"I wish to buy his forgiveness, not lease it."
I had to give it to Corlys, he had chosen his architect well.
Where some lords might have chosen to replace their small, damp castle with a larger, slightly less damp castle, my friend had gone in a completely different direction. As in, Essosi. Because the new seat of House Velaryon was not a castle at all, but a proper palace.
No thick curtain walls to keep out invaders, only a sprawling garden containing flowers from each of the Seven Kingdoms, from Dorne to the Wall. No stout keep to house the lord, only a sprawling white manor whose walls were contained more glass than brick or timber, surrounded by a ring of servants' quarters. And a sept, of course. There always had to be a sept.
Still, the new seat of House Velaryon lacked the cramped nature of a castle, instead opting for a beautiful wide-open layout. On an island like Driftmark, so close to the heartland of Targaryen power, there was really no need for a highly fortified center of government for a vassal. If there truly was a danger, Dragonstone was a lot closer to any potential pirates, and King's Landing was only a few hours away by ship. And even closer by dragon.
In short, it was perfect for a vassal. Beautiful to behold, poorly defensible, and reliant on the king for safety.
And, as I sat in a secluded corner of the vast gardens, I realized it may well be more splendid than the Red Keep itself. It might not rise into the sky like my father's castle, but it was truly beautiful. The roof of the manor and the servants' quarters were a vivid riot of color. The gardens were host to no small collection of sculptures from around the world. Even the footpath that wound its way through the garden was immaculate, the gravel kept out of the flowers by an artfully decorated liner.
"You did not need to join me for this," I said softly to the woman who was busy using me as a glorified headrest. Maegelle had decided that the children could be trusted to themselves for a little while, and decided to tag along on my little errand. Or she did not trust me to muck it up.
"And miss out on a moment to ourselves?" she asked, preferring to enjoy her position instead of twisting her neck to look me in the eye.
"How dare you make a good point," I said, leaning into her. Raising children had been rather detrimental to enjoying even a brief moment alone.
"One of us must bear the Crone's wisdom," she said in turn. "And it might as well be me."
"You sell me short," I complained without heat. "Does it not require wisdom to earn as much coin as I have?"
"Cleverness and wisdom are not the same," she chided me. "Else you would not be in this situation."
The sound of gravel shifting underfoot to draw my focus, causing me to rapidly sit up. Maeglle muttered a complaint as I shifted into a less comfortable position (for her), but our little moment would have come to an end, nonetheless.
Aemon Targaryen, the Prince of Dragonstone, had arrived. With company. His wife, Jocelyn Baratheon, looked as cold as ever, but little Rhaenys seemed more silly than anything as she tried to cut a serious figure. Unfortunately, she was a girl of… eight? Nine? The exact number escaped me, but she was still too small to be properly intimidating.
"Brother," I rose to my feet as I greeted Aemon, preparing to choose my words carefully. "Good-sister. Dear niece. I am glad you found the time to see me."
"Your man's invitation was rather clear." My brother wasted little time on pleasantries. It appeared he held a grudge. Not that I could blame him, I had left him with some rather disfiguring… injuries…
Wait, where were his injuries?
I had flattened his nose! I had expected a prosthetic or a mask, not this… this… this prize-fighter's nose! It looked as though it had been broken in a brawl and healed crookedly, not painstakingly reconstructed from crushed cartilage!
A sense of shame brought that line of thought to a halt. I had grievously wounded my brother. It was unworthy of me to question why his injuries had not left a more severe mark. Thankfully, it seemed he had recovered quite well.
I thanked the Crone for the Maesters and their sorcerous healing arts. First they healed a bruise with a pumice and then then they reconstructed a man's nose. It was incredible what healers could do with access to the collected knowledge of the wisest men to ever walk the Seven Kingdoms.
"I never did thank you properly for sending my children their eggs," I said, reaching for the wooden box resting on the bench. Reconciling with Aemon was never going to be easy. Luckily, throwing money at a problem seemed to work most of the time. And I knew some very talented jewelers and goldsmiths. "No matter how fine the vintage, a wine could never convey my appreciation. This seemed like the perfect opportunity to correct that mistake."
"Did you bring gifts?" That seemed to distract Rhaenys for a moment as curiosity dominated her features. She approached eagerly as I lowered myself to a knee. Pride could take a back seat, just this once, there were more important things at hand.
"Indeed," I confirmed, opening the box, and lifting out a small silver circlet. It would have almost been plain, were it not for the single amethyst the size of a child's fist, set in an artfully wrought flower of silver. The little girl's eyes shone as they beheld what was clearly a crown, though one sized for a child. "I do hope they are worthy."
Placing it gingerly on her head, I gave a pleased smile at the contrasting colors. Silver metal on black hair stood out magnificently and made it hard to ignore the crown. As fine a statement to make as any.
"Good-sister." Once more, I reached into the case, this time retrieving a golden circlet sized for a grown adult. Made of fine gold, it had been shaped to look like a dragon, with tiny shards of black onyx for eyes. A Targaryen dragon in the colors of House Baratheon. "I have something for you as well."
She seemed taken aback at that but offered a small smile as I set the crown on her head. Though far more subdued than her daughter, I could tell she was pleased. Good to know she enjoyed it.
"Aemon." I retrieved the final object from its case, this time a circlet made of red gold, also shaped like a dragon. At least, its core was red gold. On the outside, it was covered from nose to tail in tiny flakes of ruby, each glittering with its own inner fire as the light struck it. It had cost a fortune, to be true, but Father had commanded we reconcile. And you could hardly put a price on that. "I suspect you will have need of a crown when the time comes."
Aemon, to his credit, managed to avoid impersonating a fish out of water, though his eyes went as wide as saucers. His jaw did not quite drop, but it notably slackened, and I could not blame him. It was not every day that a younger brother offered his elder a crown, after all.
For a moment we simply stood there. He, looking completely caught off-guard. Me, holding a very expensive crown.
"I dare say he likes it." Maegelle broke the awkward silence, joining me by my side. No, not joining me, walking past me to our good-sister and crouching in front of our niece. "Rhaenys, the other children are playing in the inner gardens. Would you care to join them?"
"Other children?" Rhaenys asked, looking more than a little interested, and my sister exploited that to the hilt.
"Your cousins and your uncle Aelys," Maegelle elaborated. Judging by her expression, she knew she had her little niece's attention. "You have not met them before, have you? Would you like to meet them?"
"Can I?" Her eyes were wide as she turned to face her mother. "Please?"
It was Aemon who answered.
"Go on," he said with an indulgent smile. "I will not keep you from family. You too, Jocelyn. Vaegon and I need to have a little talk, just the two of us."
My niece rushed off, Maegelle and Jocelyn slightly behind her, as I refocused my attention on my brother. I still had his crown in my hands as I waited for the other to make the first move. Eventually, I decided to put an end to the waiting game and deposited the golden circlet on my brother's head.
"Did Father put you up to this?" he asked once our wives were out of earshot. An odd decision. Jocelyn was no stranger to the troubles between her husband and me. Mayhaps it was for the sake of his daughter? But Rhaenys would have seen Aemon's injuries when he returned to Dragonstone. Had she not been told?
Or mayhaps he simply wanted some privacy?
"You wound me, Aemon," I said, shaking my head. "Can I not want to properly thank my brother?"
"Do not try to play me for a fool, Vaegon," he said, his gaze refusing to soften. "I know Father wants us to reconcile. That bit with the crowns; Was that your idea or his?"
"Mine," I answered calmly. It appeared I had been wrong to assume that his delivery of the eggs was a symbol of forgiveness. A shame, that, but one I could work with. "Father wants us to reconcile, true, but publicly. This... you gave my children dragon eggs that hatched, Aemon. It is because of you that they got to experience a joy you and I were never able to. Giving you my full support is the least I can do."
"What?" He seemed taken aback by that, his eyes narrowing as he tried to find the lie, the ulterior motive, the deception.
Unfortunately for him, he was wasting his time.
"You helped my children, I will help yours," I explained. To be honest, it felt a bit like I was teaching Daella again. "Is that so hard to understand?"
"What?" He asked again, the suspicion in his face giving way to confusion, as though he could not understand something as simple as that. It was as if he had spent the past five years stewing in his frustration and grudges.
This was going to take a while, wasn't it?
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