It wasn't long before Rhaegar emerged from the unassuming tent. His short silver-gold hair partially obscured his eyes, but the intense light in them was unmistakable.
Orwyle, the gray-robed maester, said nothing as he handed Rhaegar a thick book —a brief history of the modern court. Each time a king ascended to the Iron Throne, a maester sent by the Citadel would meticulously record the actions of the king and his blood relatives. These records were eventually compiled into the history of House Targaryen.
The brief history recorded by Grand Maester Mellos was riddled with anomalies. Rhaegar glanced up at the afternoon sun, high in the blue sky amidst drifting white clouds, his heart heavy with the disturbing records.
Determined, he headed straight for the main tent.
...
Meanwhile, at the camp's picnic area, Aegon wandered aimlessly, his eyelids drooping. Occasionally, he would grab a bottle of red wine from the open-air tables, bite off the cork, and drink deeply. Scattered around were nobles of various ranks, busy with hunting and barbecuing, casting curious glances at the king's second son.
Following Aegon closely were the four daughters of House Baratheon, their foreheads sweaty and boots muddy.
"How much longer will you keep this up, Your Highness Aegon?" Cassandra Baratheon, the eldest, clenched her teeth and finally voiced her frustration. They were here to discuss marriage prospects, not to act as guards on patrol. After trailing Aegon for half the day, they were parched and tired, while he continued to drink aimlessly.
Aegon glanced at her, noticing their exhausted state. "What's the matter? Thirsty or tired?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.
Maris Baratheon, the second eldest, stepped forward, her not-so-pretty face twisted in a frown. "Both tired and thirsty. You should be entertaining us properly instead of dragging us around the camp," she said, trying to suppress her anger.
The two youngest Baratheon daughters, Ellyn and Floris, nodded in agreement, glaring at Aegon.
Back at Storm's End, the four sisters were collectively known as the Four Storms and were much favored by their father, Borros Baratheon. They weren't used to being slighted like this.
"If you're tired, find a place to rest, and if you're thirsty, there's plenty of good wine on the table," Aegon said dismissively. "And stop following me. You're delaying my search for a place to sleep."
Maris, furious, stomped her foot in frustration. Aegon sneered at her, "What now? Just go sit somewhere."
His eyes swept over Maris, and his disdain grew. Her face wasn't attractive, and her petite body and short legs didn't appeal to him at all. If it weren't for Borros Baratheon's defiance, he wouldn't have lost so much face. Marrying one of Borros's daughters was out of the question.
Sensing Aegon's contempt, Maris's eyes reddened with anger. She wanted to call her guards to teach him a lesson, but the prince's status and their father's precarious situation stopped her.
Cassandra, the eldest, took a deep breath and fetched a bottle of wine and some glasses from a nearby table, sharing them with her sisters. She then looked at Aegon, who seemed ready to continue his aimless wandering. "Keep wandering around until it gets dark. We'll probably be circling you until the end of the Kingswood hunt. That way, you'll have something to brag about later," she said sharply.
She had realized that Aegon had no interest in them and was merely toying with them. If tormenting him was the only option, then so be it.
...
While the heirs of the two families engaged in their tense "friendly" interactions, two pairs of keen eyes watched from a distance.
At an outdoor dining table, two round wooden piers served as benches. Otto stood on one side of the table, picking up a bottle of wine and pouring it, first offering the glass to his brother, Hobert Hightower, who stood beside him. The brothers raised their glasses, sharing a drink while keeping their eyes fixed on Aegon and the Four Storms.
"Brother, it seems my good grandson doesn't fancy the Baratheon daughters," Hobert remarked, swirling his goblet with a smug expression.
Otto's face remained indifferent. "Marriage is a matter between families; the preferences of the individuals involved are secondary."
Hobert chuckled, "Our King is known for his benevolence."
Otto sliced a piece of steak from his porcelain plate, his eyes calm. "The royal family has always favored alliances with House Arryn of the Vale and House Baratheon of Storm's End. These marriages help maintain peace in the kingdom."
The noble houses of Westeros were powerful and widely distributed, often becoming thorns in the side of the royal family. The Starks of the North, the Lannisters of the West, and the Martells of Dorne were particularly troublesome.
"The Starks are isolated in the North and could move south at any time. The Lannisters control the gold mines and Lannisport, their wealth unmatched. The Martells frequently raid our borders and remain at odds with the Iron Throne," Otto continued. "In this context, strategic alliances are essential."
"The Arryns of the Vale can block the Starks from moving south, and with the support of the Tullys of the Riverlands, they can keep the battlefield away from King's Landing. The Baratheons at Storm's End are close to King's Landing, crucial for its defense and the protection of the Boneway and the Dornish Marches."
Hobert laughed, "Let's see which of the Four Storms my nephew and grandson will choose."
Otto forked another piece of steak, chewing thoughtfully. "You have something to say, Hobert."
Hobert sipped his wine, then glanced towards a corner, not bothering to hide his thoughts. "The king's health is failing. Our family should establish a new alliance with the royal family."
"A marriage alliance?" Otto frowned, following his brother's gaze.
Under a modest awning, three silver-haired siblings sat together: Helaena in the center, with Aemond and Daeron on either side. They were enjoying fruits and desserts, occasionally glancing at Aegon and the Baratheon girls.
Daeron, with a piece of cake in his mouth, mumbled, "Aegon likes girls, so why is he avoiding them?"
"Maybe the older girls aren't pretty enough," Aemond replied casually.
Suddenly, Aegon slapped Cassandra Baratheon, knocking her to the ground. Aemond's eyes widened in shock. "Oh shit, Aegon hit someone."
Helaena and Daeron quickly got up and rushed towards the commotion.
Otto and Hobert froze, watching the scene unfold. Hobert grinned, "It seems our nephews and grandsons are still the best candidates for marriage."
Otto's expression darkened. He left without a word, realizing the situation was veering off course and needing immediate intervention to salvage their plans.
...
Inside the women's tent, the warm glow of lanterns illuminated the space. Several coffee tables were artfully separated by screens, each surrounded by ornate chairs.
In the center, noble ladies and young women from various houses gathered around a prominent coffee table. Alicent sat next to Lady Elenda on one side, opposite Rhaenyra and Laena, who were accompanied by a pair of twin girls. Near a corner, Larys Strong sat alone on a round bench, indulging his hobby of eavesdropping on the women's gossip and news. His presence was tolerated due to his lameness.
Despite the tent being designated for women, several male family members, including the second son of the Hand of the King, mingled among them. The chatter around the tables was incessant. Alicent and Rhaenyra, holding their respective statuses, listened more than they spoke, occasionally interjecting.
As the conversation progressed, the topics grew more pointed. An elderly woman, her black hair streaked with white, took a sip of tea before speaking sharply, "The Targaryen Princes are restless, eager for war, it seems."
Alicent, Rhaenyra, and Laena froze, surprised by the bluntness of the statement. Each of them had close ties to the Targaryen princes and were taken aback by the old woman's attitude.
"Lady Swann, what do you mean by that?" Alicent, the oldest and highest-ranking among them, inquired with a courteous smile.
"Just speaking the truth." Lady Swann's gaze flicked over Rhaenyra and Laena. "Prince Daemon has been plundering the ships of the Triarchy since he became the Commander of the Narrow Sea."
Laena's face tightened, and she opened her mouth to retort, but Lady Swann continued, turning her attention to Rhaenyra. "And Prince Rhaegar recently rode his dragon to invade Volantis, executed two Triarchs, and nearly sparked a war between Westeros and the Free Cities."
Rhaenyra, defensive of her brother, responded coldly, "Lady Swann, you can't speak such accusations lightly."
"Did I say anything untrue?" Lady Swann retorted, her tone haughty. "What Prince Daemon and Prince Rhaegar did is well known."
Rhaenyra's eyes narrowed as she noticed the gold jewelry on Lady Swann's lapel, engraved with the family crest of two swans facing each other. The Swann family, based in Stonehelm in the Stormlands, had long overseen the sea routes along the Dornish coast.
Along with Lady Elenda's maternal family, the Carons of Nightsong, they were among the oldest and strongest families in the Stormlands.
Understanding dawned on Rhaenyra. The Swann House, reliant on seafaring for their wealth, was undoubtedly suffering due to the royal family's actions against House Baratheon and the disruptions along the Narrow Sea caused by Daemon and Rhaegar. Lady Swann was here to voice her grievances.
Alicent and Laena quickly grasped the underlying motive as well. As Rhaenyra's stepmother, Alicent tried to mediate with a diplomatic smile. However, Laena, unable to hold back, spoke up first. "Lady Swann, the Triarchy has always been hostile to the kingdom. Daemon fulfilling his duties is no excuse for you to spread such falsehoods."
(Word count: 1.605)