Corlys Velaryon was many things. A brilliant captain by reputation. An adequate sailor from my own personal experience. A man with an incredible mind for trade, if his desire to journey to Yi Ti was an indication. Far too ambitious for the good of the realm, that much was beyond doubt, and a passably skilled knight of no great renown.
A theologian, however, he was not.
"You've lost me," the heir to Driftmark commented, staring blankly at the book in his hands. Unlike our previous sessions, this was not our copy of the Seven-Pointed Star. Instead, this far slimmer tome was a discussion of Ironborn religious traditions. "How does the story of the Grey King relate to the Faith of the Seven?"
There was a good reason why I was introducing content about other faiths. Mostly, it was to acclimate my sisters to the existence of the other religions of Westeros. I did not want to raise zealots, not in a world where not all worshipped the same gods.
"Read and find out," I said simply, a grin on my face. Corlys had expressed an interest in joining my little study group, no doubt to get closer to one of my sisters. Some might have considered it foolish to have Corlys' first day at our study group to be something slightly more complicated than reading and discussing the stories of the Seven, but this was a test for sisters, too. The younger ones, at any rate.
"I did," he said defensively. Snappishly, almost, frustrated at being stuck in a situation that he did not know how to handle. That he had not left yet spoke in his favor.
"Can you find something similar to our own Faith?" I asked. At his blank look, I turned to my younger sisters. Saera looked interested, as always, as did Viserra, though Daella seemed a bit distracted. "Any of you?"
"I see it," Maegelle commented. I had told her my plan for selecting this particular book, at least the vague plan of it. The exact details, however, she had refused. "Oh, that is interesting. Think of the qualities in other words. Many sons, a crown gifted by his god, a kingdom across the sea…" she trailed off, inviting our sisters to connect the dots.
Saera's brow scrunched in a way that would have given our parents a fit had she done so at court. Viserra's look was blank, not comprehending. Daella I had the least hope for, until for her eyes to widen incrementally.
"It's like Hugor!" She exclaimed, grasping the truth surprisingly quickly. "A lot of this story is like what was in the Book of Hugor!" A troubled look fell over her features at that revelation. "But isn't that blasph… blas…"
"The word you're thinking of blasphemy, Daella," Maegelle said, resting a reassuring hand on her little sister's shoulder. Seated next to me, Corlys looked more than a little surprised. This was just a bit more complex than what I usually covered. "But this is simply pointing out the similarities between two different faiths. Rest assured, this is not blasphemy."
"Can any of you expand on Daella's observation?" I asked, and Viserra shook her head. Saera, however, looked just a bit more studious. Sharing a look, Maegelle and I allowed her a few moments to think.
"It's like someone took the story of Hugor and changed the details," she said slowly, cautiously looking to Maegelle and me for confirmation before continuing. "A crown of driftwood instead of stars, both given by their gods. A kingdom surrounded by the sea instead of across the sea. Lots of sons that fought over who would be the next king."
"Are you suggesting Hugor of the Hill and this Grey King were the same person?" Corlys asked, somehow more flabbergasted than a girl more than half his age. It was unworthy of me to take such enjoyment from his misfortune, I knew, but I should have hired painters to capture this moment.
"That's blasphemy, Corlys," I warned. "Rather, the Grey King might be how the Ironborn perceived the story of Hugor, but theirs is of the sea below instead of the Seven Above."
The existence of those parallels between two faiths that had developed a continent apart, one in Essos and the other on the Iron Islands, had no doubt convinced many that the Iron Islands could be converted to the Faith of the Seven. History had shown that belief to be a delusion, as the numerous attempted conversions of the Islands attested, but it did leave the option for syncretism.
My mind drifted to the unfinished manuscript I had hidden away in my chambers. The translation could easily be repurposed into a grand theogony that tied every westerosi religion into one grand faith with the Valyrians, and by extension my family, at the top. But could I do that?
Could I use what had allowed my sisters and me to grow closer as a family in such a cynical way?
Could I betray what had let me forge those bonds?
No.
No, I could not.
A knock on the door disrupted my thoughts.
"Your Graces, Ser Velaryon," Ser Pate opened the door to poke his head into the room. He had once been the youngest member of my father's Kingsguard, but now his face was nearly as lined as father's, his neatly trimmed beard liberally streaked with ashen grey. "His Grace the King is about to hold court. You are to join him in the Great Hall at your earliest convenience."
"Of course, Ser Pate, thank you," Maegelle said, the very picture of courtesy while I was busy pondering my current ethical dilemma. She shot me a questioning glance as I remained seated.
"I'll join you in the Great Hall, Ser Corlys and I have business to discuss," I said. "Will that be a problem, Ser Pate?"
"Ten minutes, Your Grace, no more," the knight allowed, stepping back to hold open the door for my sisters. "We will wait for you without." Maegelle shot me a questioning glance as she shepherded our sisters out of the room but said nothing. The door swung shut noiselessly, leaving me alone with the heir to Driftmark.
"So… business?" the man asked, still in his seat and looking just a bit uncomfortable. In all fairness, that was probably justified. I had, after all, invited to what had a discussion of theological matters far beyond what any westerosi noble was normally expected to encounter in their life. Hells, most septons did not encounter theology that complex in their lives.
"In part," I said. "My apologies for the… difficult subject for today. My sisters need the challenge lest their wits go dull."
At least, Saera did. Given time, so would Viserra. Daella did not, but the occasional success in the face of adversity would be good for her.
"I should have expected as much," Corlys said, leaning back in his seat and sighing deeply. "They are your sisters, after all."
"Are you regretting trying to court Daella, yet?" I asked lightheartedly, and Corlys sat up with a start, his sea-green eyes wide. It seemed 'plotter' and 'smooth operator' were two more descriptions that did not apply to my friend. At least, not yet. "You are hardly subtle. Were my father to learn of it, he would not approve, so try not to be too obvious. Or just be exceedingly chivalrous."
"He really does not care for me, does he?" Corlys sagged back into his chair. "So much for the ties of kinship. Perhaps the profits from my next voyage will change his tune."
"Unlikely." It felt cruel to be so direct, but it had to be said. Anything else, and he might act with the belief that my father might be convinced. That would only guarantee failure, and thus resentment. "He fears your ambition. A trip to Yi Ti would only validate his suspicions, as would your desire for a royal marriage."
"Then what do you suggest?" he asked.
"Court my sister, but be chivalrous about it," I said simply. "He would hardly deny a marriage if my sister truly loved somebody, as long as the man is not lowborn."
"And if he fears my ambition, then I cannot go to Yi Ti," he said, his eyes meeting mine before a wolfish grin grew on his face. "At least not of my volition. But perhaps as an agent of a wealthy benefactor."
"Lucky for you, I can expect to acquire some coin in the not-too-distant future," I said easily, rising to my feet. My sisters had been forced to wait for long enough. "Wedding gifts for royalty tend towards extravagance, do they not?"
Corlys merely chuckled and joined me in leaving the small room.
True to his word, Ser Pate had waited patiently outside the door, my sisters in tow. Luckily, the door was thick enough to block most of the sound, and I was not in the habit of shouting as part of polite conversation. Not that the topic of conversation had been particularly secret, but I did like my privacy.
"Ready?" Maegelle asked by way of greeting.
"Would I be here were I not?" I asked in response, taking my place by her side as Ser Pate led the way. Our siblings were around us while Corlys was invited by Ser Pate to walk with him in front of the rest of us. Clearly, he took his task quite seriously even in the depths of the Red Keep.
We did not speak as we crossed the drawbridge from Maegor's into the keep proper. Once past the spike-filled moat, Saera butted in between Maegelle and me to grasp at our hands. Little Viserra went for Maegelle, leaving Daella to claim my free hand.
It was hardly a courtly or proper way of walking to the Great Hall to listen to father hold court, but it kept them happy. Children needed all the love they could get, after all.
And I was legally still a child.
When we made it to the Great Hall, it was filled to near capacity. The Iron Throne and its bed of somehow unrusting swords sat above the heads of the gathered nobles. The Small Council sat at a long table on the raised dais below the throne, all its members in attendance save one: Aemon.
Instead of my eldest brother, it was Baelon that sat at the table.
Oh, this was interesting.
But not quite as interesting as the pair seated on either side of the throne. On the right, what was by any reasonable measure pride of place, sat my mother. Almost fully recovered from the birth, Queen Alysanne was proudly clad in red and black, carrying a small bundle swaddled in a dragon banner. Her smile was experienced, her posture regal yet relaxed.
On the left was my sister Alyssa, looking like a younger version of my mother. Her dress was black and red, though the babe in her hands was swaddled identically to his uncle. Compared to our mother, however, Alyssa wore her joy and pride openly and without shame. Her smile was wide, her love for her child unrestrained.
Ser Pate guided us through the crowd until we stood just before the dais, at the front of the crowd and to the right of the crowd. The Kingsguard knight that had escorted us joined his sworn brothers standing guard between the councilors and the throne, while my father smiled benignly from his seat.
He had time to do little else but nod a greeting before the heralds called for silence. Their staves pounded on the stone floors, the sounds reverberating through the crowded hall and the murmurs of the crowd rapidly faded.
"My dearest subjects," my father called out, his voice carrying easily through the crowded hall, commanding their silence with three words as easily as the heralds had with pounding staves. "It is a wondrous age we live in, from the lowliest peasant to the greatest lord. But today, it is exceptionally wondrous for me, for I have not one, but four announcements to make."
Wait, four announcements? There were the two newborns, the betrothal, and… and what else? What else could there be to announce?
I really did not like my father's habit of keeping me in the dark.
"First is the resignation of my son Aemon from his post as Master of Laws," Oh, that was first. That wasn't too bad, actually. Especially if it kept him away from me. "He has since returned to Dragonstone to handle pressing matters there. My son Baelon will take his place on the Small Council."
A polite round of applause met the announcement as Baelon rose in acknowledgment.
"I also wish to announce the birth of my first grandson, to my son Baelon and my daughter Alyssa. I present to the court Prince Viserys Targaryen!"
My sister rose to her feet, raising the bundled form of my nephew to a general round of cheers. Enthusiastic, genuine cheers. At least, that's what it sounded like. I was too busy cheering to verify.
"I also present my youngest son, Prince Aelys Targaryen!" What? Aelys? My knowledge of this time from my life before this one was hazy, it was true, but I could have sworn he was due to be named Valerion. "For her long years as my closest confidant and dearest advisor, I know of no better way than to honor her by naming this final child of my body after his mother!"
Once again, loud cheers met the announcement, even louder than for the previous announcement.
"And finally, it is my great honor to announce the betrothal of my son Vaegon and my daughter Maegelle, to be wed on the first day of the 78th year after the conquest!"
This time, the cheers were for me.
And they sounded all the louder for it.
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AN: There will be a time-skip of about five years after the wedding, just warning you now.
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