Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

They had been back at King’s Landing for less than a week when his father summoned him. The court was still in mourning for Baelor, everyone was still dressed in black and the halls were eerily silent.

He walked down the hall to his father's chambers, trying not to stumble. He wasn't drunk, not really, but he was pleasantly tipsy. The world had lost its sharp edges and everything was more manageable.

He found his father in his office, writing something. Father looked up at him and winced at his disheveled appearance.

“Daeron, it's not even dinner yet, how much have you had to drink?” he said.

Daeron shrugged, “Lost count.”

Father closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, “This is exactly what I brought you here to talk about, the events at Ashford Meadow have made it clear to me that changes must be made. Your behavior and that of your brothers cannot continue.”

“It was Aerion’s fault,” Daeron said, “You have to see that now.”

“And yet, if you had merely done as I had commanded, perhaps none of this would have come to pass,” Father said.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Daeron said, “If you wish to exile me as well, I will go without quarrel.”

“No,” Father shook his head, “Exile will do naught for you. Since you cannot mind yourself, your wife will do it for you.”

Daeron paled, “Father, Daella is too young, I cannot marry her.”

“Not Daella, you fool,” he swore, “You will marry Lady Elinor Tyrell, Leo Longthorn’s daughter. The Tyrells have long been loyal to the crown, it is time they were rewarded with a royal marriage. She is a comely maid of six and ten, I am told. You will marry her, get children upon her, and when I am dead, you will rule Summerhall with her.”

“She’s agreed to marry me? Knowing what I am?” he said.

“She's a gently bred lady, if she had any complaints, she would not tell her lord father,” Father said.

“When is the wedding going to take place?” he asked.

“In three months, in Baelor’s Sept,” Father said.

Daeron nodded, then left the room. His head was spinning and he needed a drink. He stumbled down the halls of the Red Keep to his room. Sitting on the table in his bedchamber was a pitcher of Arbor red waiting for him. He poured himself a goblet and drank deeply. A wife. What was he to do with a wife? He supposed she might do some of the things his mother might have done, if she was alive. Most castles had a lady, and he was certain whatever duties the lady of a castle was meant to do, were not being done at Summerhall. His sisters could use a female presence in their life that wasn't their septa. Perhaps between her duties as lady of the castle and doing ladylike things with his sisters he wouldn't have to do much of anything with her, merely share a meal and a bed from time to time.

Just as well that she would be busy as Princess of Summerhall, in all but name. Leave him to his drinking, it was better that way. Just as he was finishing up his third goblet, his door creaked open. Melony slipped in.

“Are you well, my prince?” Melony said.

“I’m to be married,” he groaned.

“Poor you, forced to deflower some highborn maiden,” she teased.

“Do not mock me,” he said, “This poor girl, she has no idea what she's saying yes to.”

“Like as not she has as much a choice in this as you, her lord father saw the message from your royal father and said yes before she could blink,” she said, crossing the room to stand behind him.

“The wedding is in three months,” he said glumly.

“Is there anything I can do to make you feel better, milord?” she said, running her hands down his arms.

He turned and kissed her arm, “I know what might cheer me up.”

He pulled her onto the floor and tumbled her there. She giggled as he kissed her, and they stumbled into bed afterwards. Fucking and wine, those were the only things that kept the dreams away, today he was lucky enough to have both. They had sex again in bed, and he fell asleep tangled in the sheets and Melony’s arms.

He woke the next morning to Maekar throwing open his bedroom door angrily.

“Your wedding is in three months and you're carrying on with the maids!” he yelled.

Daeron sat bolt upright, Melony was gone.

“Your guard brought her to me when she tried to slip out. I gave her some money for her troubles and some moon tea, and dismissed her,” Father said.

“You fired her?” Daeron said groggily.

“You think your bride will take kindly to you fucking the maids?” Father said.

“You didn't have to fire her,” Daeron said.

“I’ll not insult Leo Longthorn by parading your whores in front of him and his daughter. Nor will I suffer you to sire a bastard on that girl. She is the last, Daeron, do you hear me? Whoring while unwed is one thing, but you will not disrespect your wife with this behavior,” Father said, “You’ve been a man for two years and a knight for one, it's high time you grew up.”

His father left and slammed the door, back to his brooding no doubt. Daeron flopped back onto the pillows, and drifted back to sleep.

It was not a dreamless sleep, but fortunately, it was a more pleasant dream than most. It was one of those dreams, for sure. It had that sharp quality, as if this were real and the waking was the dream.

He was walking in a meadow, green grass beneath his feet and blue sky overhead. There were birds chirping in trees and bees buzzing among wildflowers. A pleasant breeze played with his hair. He continued walking, until he came upon a great rose bush. He heard something crying underneath the bush. He got on his hands and knees and peaked under the leaves. There were several dragon hatchlings all curled up together in a nest of rose petals. One by one, they opened their eyes and bathed him in fire.

Chapter Text

King’s Landing stunk. There was no way around it, the capital smelled awful. Unfortunately there wasn't much to distract her from the stench, it was too bumpy to embroider and trying to read in the wheelhouse gave her a headache. Her mother and septa sat on the bench across from her, but they had run out of things to talk about hours ago. There was little to do except stare out the window and think.

Her father had been thrilled when Prince Maekar wrote asking for her hand for his son Prince Daeron. “It is high time we get a royal marriage,” he said. Her mother had been happy as well, “It is a good match,” she said, “You will be Princess of Summerhall one day, your children will be princes and princesses. Since Prince Maekar has no wife, you will be expected to help manage the household and guide his daughters.”

It was her septa, Tansy, who told her the truth of it. “Prince Maekar’s son, Prince Daeron is a wayward thing. He needs the light of a woman to guide him,” she said. That seemed likely. Her brother Garth told the truth less gently, “He is a drunk, and he needs someone to manage him.”

Her father had mentioned the trouble at Ashford. She didn't know all the details nor how it had led to the untimely death of Prince Baelor, but it seemed nearly all of Prince Maekar’s sons had been involved in some way or another. Well, with the cruel one gone across the Narrow Sea, the oldest and the youngest shouldn't be too hard to manage. The youngest one probably just needed something to do. Prince Daeron though, she had no idea how to manage a man who drank too much. Perhaps the same, something to do, or a comforting word.

She had stayed at Highgarden with her brother during the tourney, and had not met Prince Maekar, but her father described him as a hard man. It did not seem to her that a man such as that would often comfort his children. It also did not escape her notice that the word manage had been used twice when discussing her duties in this marriage. She knew she had an assertive personality, but she would not consider herself managing or, as Garth would put it, bossy.

She sighed. She was sad to be leaving Highgarden and her brother, she would miss the gardens and the singers and her cousins. She would have liked to take some with her, as ladies in waiting, but her father said she would have no need of them. After the wedding, Prince Maekar was taking his household to Summerhall, which would include her and her new husband. Septa Tansy, at least, was allowed to accompany her. The wheelhouse rumbled to a halt. The door opened, and her father poked his head in.

“Ready?” he asked.

Elinor nodded. Mother stood, smoothed her golden skirts, stepped out into the late afternoon light, and took Father’s arm. Elinor followed her, and her brother offered his arm. Father and Garth had the typical Tyrell look, curly brown hair and brown eyes. Her mother’s maiden house was Oakheart of Old Oak, claiming descent from John the Oak, a son of the legendary Garth Greenhand. Her mother had golden blonde hair and green eyes. Elinor had her mother’s delicate features and her green eyes, but her father’s brown curls. She knew they made a handsome family. Her father and brother wore green doublets, and Elinor wore a simple green travelling dress. She wore her hair long and loose, her curls brushing her waist.

“Be glad you were in the wheelhouse Elinor, the smell was awful,” Garth said.

She took his arm, “We could smell it in the wheelhouse as well, though it must have been worse riding through it.”

They stood in the outer yard of the Red Keep. It was aptly named, the huge walls and towers were all made of red stone. Standing before them were two men dressed in black. Not Targaryen red and black, but mourning blacks.

Her father bowed, and her mother curtsied. Elinor and her brother did the same. A silver haired man with a beard stepped forward.

“Welcome to the Red Keep, Lord Tyrell,” Prince Maekar said, “I hope your journey was pleasant.”

“It was enjoyable,” Father said, “Allow me to present my wife, Joanna, my son and heir Ser Garth, and my lovely daughter Elinor.”

Prince Maekar fixed his iron gaze upon her.

Elinor smiled softly, and bowed her head slightly, “I am pleased to meet you, my prince.”

Prince Maekar’s face was inscrutable.

“This is my son, Daeron,” he said, “My younger children are waiting for us at Summerhall.”

Elinor looked at her betrothed, who would be her husband in less than a week. He was a slender young man, perhaps eight and ten, with fine features and sandy brown hair. What struck her most was his eyes. They were Targaryen violet, but there was a deep sadness to them. Some sadness she would expect, his uncle had died not long ago, the court was still in mourning. But she felt as if this sadness went to the very core of him. He went to kiss her hand, and she allowed it. His hands shook slightly as he pressed his lips to the back of her hand.

“You are as beautiful as they say, my lady,” Prince Daeron said.

Garth scoffed under his breath.

Elinor merely smiled softly, “It is good of you to say so, my prince.”

“You may as well call me Daeron,” Prince Daeron said.

“If it pleases you, Daeron,” she replied.

“Come inside, get settled,” Prince Maekar said to her father. He turned to his son, “Perhaps you might take your betrothed for a stroll in the gardens.”

“I am sure they pale in comparison to Highgarden, but perhaps they will remind you of home,” Daeron said.

“I would be happy to stretch my legs a little,” Elinor said.

“I would also like to see the gardens,” Garth said innocently, “To wash the stink of the city from my nose.”

“Leave your sister alone,” Mother said lightly, “Let her get to know her betrothed in peace.”

“I would be happy to accompany them, if it would set your mind at ease,” Septa Tansy said.

“Yes very well, the septa will go with them,” Prince Maekar said dismissively.

Daeron offered her his arm, she went to take it, and there was a moment where her brother would not let her go.

“Garth,” she reminded him softly.

He squeezed her hand and dropped her arm.

She and Daeron strolled arm in arm into the gardens. There were various flowers and blossoming trees in the gardens, they were nice enough, though Daeron was right, they did not compare to Highgarden.

“The flowers are beautiful,” she said, “Forgive me, I cannot recall if you have ever visited Highgarden, there is a flower that only grows in our godswood, beneath the Three Singers. It is a beautiful red color.”

“If I have visited Highgarden I cannot recall it,” he said.

“Oh you must see it someday, it is a huge white castle on a hill looking over the Mander. Its walls are covered in ivy and climbing roses, and between the outer and middle walls is a briar labyrinth. My cousins and I often played there as children. The godswood is just as beautiful, there are three weirwoods called the Three Singers, they have grown so closely together their branches are entangled. There is a pool beneath them and it is a lovely place to sit and think. And the sept, oh the sept, in all the Seven Kingdoms there are only two that are said to be its equal, the Great Sept of Baelor and the Starry Sept of Oldtown,” she looked over at him and realized she had been gushing.

She blushed, “Apologies, my prince, I did not mean to chatter on and on.”

“Highgarden does sound nice, it is clear you love your home very much,” Daeron said, “I am sorry to take you away from it.”

“I am delighted to come to King’s Landing,” she said, “And besides, it's not as if I could remain at Highgarden forever. If not you, I would be marrying someone else, and I would have to leave anyway.”

“Would you like to see the godswood? I am told there is a flower there that is rare outside of the Red Keep, it is called dragon's breath,” Daeron said.

“I would like that,” she said, “It seems that whoever named this rare flower is as creative as whoever named the one that grows in our godswood.”

“What is the flower in your godswood called?” Daeron asked.

“The Gardener rose,” she said, smiling.

For the first time since she had seen him, he cracked a brief smile.

They continued through the gardens, eventually coming to a wall with an arch in it. They passed through the arch and into the godswood. They passed under elms, alders, and cottonwoods, until they came upon the heart tree. It was a large oak, not a weirwood, and it had no face carved upon it. The tree was covered in berry vines, and around it grew dark red flowers.

“Are these the dragon’s breath? They are beautiful, an unusually vibrant color,” she said.

She cocked her head to the side in confusion as she looked at the tree, “Though it is not a typical heart tree.”

“Is it not? I rarely come here,” Daeron said. He took her hands in his own, and Septa Tansy coughed. They glanced at her and she gave them a look. Elinor was familiar with that look, tread carefully, it said. She looked back to her prince. He gave her a sorrowful look, or perhaps that was just the only look he knew how to give.

“What… What has your father told you about me?” he asked.

“My father said that a royal marriage was a great honor for our house,” she said.

He sighed, “I suppose he did not tell you about my habits.”

He did not, but my brother did. Best to feign innocence.

Elinor raised a brow, “Have you any habits I should be aware of?”

“There is no use trying to hide it, I am a drunk. In addition to that I am a terrible knight, I hate horses and swords, I will win no tourneys in your name, I will never crown you queen of love and beauty,” he said, hands still shaking.

She laughed lightly, “If I want someone to crown me queen of love and beauty, I can get my brother or one of my many cousins to do so.”

“It is not just that, I will embarrass you, I am sure of it,” he said, “I would not blame you if you wanted to call this marriage off.”

She pondered for a second. There is no world in which my father would allow me to call this marriage off. Marrying a prince, even a drunk one carries benefits, which Mother so subtly pointed out.

She shook her head, “I am not a rose without thorns, I can withstand whispers from lords and ladies with nothing else to talk about.”

“Very well, but do not say I did not warn you,” he said. He dropped her hands.

“My lady, perhaps you would like a bath after so long on the road,” Septa Tansy said.

“Yes, I would like to freshen up before the welcome feast,” Elinor said, “Enjoy the last bit of peace and quiet before the palace is overrun by my relations, my prince.”

She curtseyed and left him staring at the heart tree. She and Septa Tansy left the Godswood and entered the middle bailey. The Tower of the Hand stood before them, and a library sat off to the right. In the center of the courtyard were the other wheelhouses and carts that had come with them from Highgarden. Her mother stood in the center of the chaos directing servants and luggage as they were unloaded.

“Those three trunks are my daughter’s, put them in the room next to ours,” Mother noticed her and Septa Tansy approaching. “Ah, Elinor! They’ve put us up in the Maidenvault, fitting I should think, for we have more maidens with us than not. How was your walk with the prince?”

“It was nice, he showed me the gardens and the godswood,” Elinor replied.

“And how was the prince? He seems like an idiot, I have lost count of the fools who’ve praised your beauty, the lad couldn’t think of anything more interesting to say?” Garth asked, dodging a trunk.

“He was kind, but subdued. Not surprising given the court is still in mourning for Prince Baelor,” Elinor replied.

“It is a rather swift wedding,” Septa Tansy mused, “One would think they might have waited until the mourning period was up.”

“It would have been longer, but Father had commissioned my wedding dress at the beginning of the year, before seeking a betrothal for me,” Elinor remarked.

“He was certain he would find someone suitable, and with the dress already underway you wouldn’t have to wait so long,” Mother shrugged.

“It may also be to appease the Reach and the Stormlands, with Baelor’s death they will not have a Marcher queen. Prince Daeron is the oldest unwed Targaryen in line for a seat, though I suppose you could also have wed Prince Matarys, that might soothe those ruffled by perceived Dornish favoritism,” Garth said.

“Are you not ruffled by Dornish favoritism?” Elinor teased.

“No, it is honorable to foster closeness with your wife’s kin,” Garth said, “Still, it is better that your husband will inherit something, and not be at the mercy of his relatives.”

“Oddly wise of you, Garth, perhaps you won’t be such a terrible lord paramount one day,” Elinor said.

“That day is far enough in the future that there is enough time for me to go mad and regain my senses seven times over,” Garth said.

“Garth wins this tilt I’m afraid, your father is healthy and strong, and loved by his vassals, he will likely live another forty years at least,” Joanna said, “Now we must prepare for the feast, we must make a good impression on His Grace the King, and any other royals who rouse themselves from their mourning to attend.”

A servant showed them to their chambers in the Maidenvault, a long keep with a slate roof behind the royal sept. There was a bath waiting for her, and two maids. Septa Tansy and the servant left. The maids introduced themselves as Meg and Jeyne, two women not much older than her. Meg undid the laces of her dress and Jeyne poured the rose bath oil they had brought from Highgarden into the water. Elinor went to climb into the bath and yelped.

“That’s nearly scalding!” she cried.

Jeyne looked at Meg, “I told you it would be too hot!”

Meg shrugged, “I thought all highborn liked their baths scalding, like the Targaryens.”

“Apologies milady,” Jeyne said, “We’re used to drawing baths for the royals, they all like them hot enough to boil.”

“Even Queen Myriah Martell?” Elinor asked.

Jeyne nodded, “I’ve never served her, but the other maids say that she says a hot bath warms her up in this cold climate.”

“I suppose King’s Landing would be cold compared to Sunspear,” Elinor mused.

Silence hung in the room. Jeyne and Meg looked from her to the too hot bath, then back at each other.

“Do either of you know who these rooms belonged to when Princesses Daena, Rhaena, and Elaena lived here?” Elinor asked.

“I think it was Rhaena, the one who became a septa,” Meg said.

“Aye, that makes sense, she was the only one that didn’t want out, so she could be trusted with the window,” Jeyne agreed.

Elinor walked over to the window. It was a large pane of glass, big enough for her to stand in the windowsill and still have room. It had a beautiful view of the yards of the Red Keep, and from this vantage point, one could watch people going into and out of the sept.

“I wonder if she sat here, embroidering and wishing she could be in the sept,” Elinor mused.

“She wasn’t as unhappy here as her sisters were at least,” Jeyne said.

“Aye, Daena escaped what, half a dozen times? And Elaena chopped all her hair off to get out,” Meg said.

Elinor walked back to the tub and swished a hand through the water, it had gone from boiling hot to pleasantly warm.

“Alright, I won’t cook now,” she said, and climbed in. Meg washed her hair, combing out any tangles, while Jeyne scrubbed her from head to toe. Jeyne started to make conversation before Meg told her to be quiet so she could focus on Elinor’s hair. She climbed out and dried herself off. Meg had her sit on a chair in front of a mirror while she combed her hair out. Elinor told Jeyne which chemise and dress to pull, as well as the necklace and earrings.

“How do you want your hair milady?” Meg asked.

“There’s a style that’s popular in the Reach, where you braid half the hair and wrap it in a circle and pin it at the back of the head, so it looks almost like a rose in bloom, and the bottom half is left hanging loose, do you know it?” Elinor asked.

“I’ve seen it on ladies of the Reach before, and I’ve done similar styles, I can do it if you like,” Meg said.

“Please do,” Elinor said.

“There’s some green ribbons here, would you like those added to the braids?” Jeyne asked.

Elinor nodded. Meg began braiding Elinor’s hair with the ribbons, stopping occasionally to pull at the loops of the braids, so they would be nice and fluffy. Jeyne continued to unpack the trunks Elinor would need for King’s Landing and her wedding. When Elinor’s hair was done, Meg held up a hand mirror so she could see the back.

“It’s perfect, thank you,” Elinor said.

Jeyne helped her into her gold chemise, and pulled on the green silk dress embroidered with gold roses and thorny vines on the bodice and the skirts. The dresses sleeves were slashed to show the gold chemise underneath and the neckline kissed the tops of her breasts. Jeyne did up the laces at the back of the dress while Meg clasped her necklace. The pendant on the necklace was a gold oak leaf, two oak leaves hung from her ears as well, to honor her mother’s house. She slipped her feet into green silk slippers embroidered with golden flowers. She turned her head back and forth, she looked lovely, thanks in whole to Jeyne and Meg’s hard work and her mother’s features.

“A small amount of rouge might not be out of place,” Jeyne said.

Elinor nodded, “There should be some perfume there as well, I’d like that too.”

Jeyne dabbed a little rouge on her finger and applied it to Elinor’s cheeks and lips, “Just a little though, too much would be…unladylike.”

Elinor applied the rose scented perfume to her wrists and neck.

“Thank you both,” she said.

Jeyne and Meg curtsied to her.

“You look beautiful, milady,” Jeyne said.

“Some of our best work,” Meg said.

“I hope you’ll be preparing me on my wedding day,” Elinor said.

Jeyne and Meg exchanged a look. Meg cleared her throat, “We’re not supposed to tell you this, but the Queen is sending some of her maids for you for your wedding day.”

“That is very generous of the Queen, I shall have to remember to look surprised,” Elinor said.

Jeyne and Meg bid her farewell, and soon enough her mother was coming to collect her.

Mother was wearing a green and gold dress embroidered with oak leaves and roses, with tight sleeves and a wide skirt. Her golden hair was braided and pinned in a bun at the nape of her neck.

“You look beautiful my dear,” Mother said, smiling at her.

“Shame she’s being wasted on that drunkard,” Garth said from the doorway.

“Know that I would throw my slipper at you if it weren’t unladylike,” Elinor said imperiously.

“That’s never stopped you before,” Garth said.

“Both of you, try to behave as though someone brought you up properly tonight,” Father said. The setting sun caught the silver in his hair and beard. Garth had been joking earlier, but her father was growing older. When she pictured her father, it was still the man who had thrown her in the air in the gardens at home when she was five. She had not noticed that he had gotten older with her.

“Don’t cry Elinor, I didn’t mean it,” Garth said, “I’m sure your prince is perfectly nice.”

Elinor blinked, “I’m fine Garth, it’s nothing.”

“Even if he is not everything you imagine him to be, he is young and can be molded,” Mother said.

“Come, let us not keep this malleable prince waiting,” Father said. Mother and Father walked out arm in arm, Garth and Elinor followed in the same manner. They strode down the halls of the Maidenvault, picking up members of the family as they went. First her father’s brother joined them, Uncle Garlan, with his wife, Aunt Maris and their children, the twins Rosamund and Alys, and their son, Ryam. Then Aunt Bethany, her father’s sister, joined them, with her pointy eared husband Uncle Thaddeus, their daughter Leona and their son Alyn. Then her mother’s two brothers, Uncle Morgan and Uncle Martyn, and their wives and children.

The party left the Maidenvault and wound down the serpentine steps to the lower bailey, and crossed the dry moat into Maegor’s Holdfast. They came upon the large oak doors to the Queen’s Ballroom. There was a brief pause and all her family’s eyes rested on her. She took a deep breath. Then she nodded, “I am ready.”

The doors were pushed open, and Father and Mother walked into the ballroom. The walls were paneled in richly carved wood and the wall sconces were backed with silver mirrors. There was a troupe of musicians in the gallery above, and along the south wall, large arched windows let the last rays of the sun in as it sank below the horizon. There were long tables along the walls, the high table against the east wall where the royal family sat, against the south wall was a table filled with the lords and ladies of the court, and against the north wall was an empty table, for her family.

“Lord Leo Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden, Lord Paramount of the Mander, Defender of the Marches, High Marshal of the Reach, and Warden of the South. His wife, the Lady Joanna, of Houses Tyrell and Oakheart, their son and heir Ser Garth the Gallant, and their daughter Lady Elinor Tyrell, the Rose of the Highgarden, future Princess of Summerhall,” the herald announced.

“The herald’s earning his keep,” Garth muttered to her. She smiled, and tried to look like she wasn’t queasy after hearing herself described as a future princess. Her various aunts, uncles, and cousins were announced, though none had as much pomp heaped upon them as the four of them. Her father and mother continued to the high table, where King Daeron the Good and Queen Myriah Martell sat. The rest of her family peeled off to their table, on the left side of the ballroom.

She could see Prince Maekar and Prince Daeron to the King’s left, and a young man with mismatched eyes sitting next to a woman with pink hair to the Queen’s right. Prince Valarr and his wife, Kiera of Tyrosh, no doubt. There was no sign of Prince Valarr’s mother or brother, nor of King Daeron and Queen Myriah’s other children. The whole table was outfitted in plain black clothing. The only ornamentation amongst the group was the red gold crown atop King Daeron’s head, the sun and spear point crown Queen Myriah wore, and the Hand of the King chain on Prince Valarr’s doublet.

Father bowed deeply to the royals, and her mother curtsied.

“We are honored, Your Grace,” Father said simply.

“Be welcome,” the King said.

“Allow me to present my children, Ser Garth and Lady Elinor,” Father gestured to them.

Garth guided her forward and bowed as deeply as Father, Elinor curtsied and looked demurely at the floor as she did.

“Rise, please,” the King said.

They stood, and Elinor looked up at the King and Queen through her lashes.

“Step forward, child, let me look at you,” the Queen said.

Elinor lifted her chin and stepped off her brother’s arm. She took a few steps forward, and stopped. The Queen took her in, eyes traveling from head to toe.

“You are a beauty,” the Queen remarked, “Our herald is correct in that at least.’

“Thank you, Your Grace, that is kind of you to say,” Elinor replied.

“You wear courtesy well, like armor, but what is beneath? Are you gentle? Or cruel?” the Queen asked.

The King reached for her hand and she pulled it from his grasp.

“This family cannot take another heartbreak, I would know now what kind of lady she is,” The Queen hissed to her husband.

Elinor looked to her mother, Mother raised a brow at her and inclined her head toward the queen. Well, what kind of lady are you? she seemed to say. Elinor looked back to the Queen. The truth then, that would serve best.

“I have tried to be good to others, as the Faith teaches, though my brother will be the first to tell you that I have failed in that, from time to time. I love my family dearly, and always strive to make them proud and do my duty to them,” Elinor said.

A melancholy expression crossed Queen Myriah’s face. Elinor desperately hoped that wasn’t the wrong thing to say.

“You speak the truth,” the Queen said, “That is a mark in your favor. Fair as you are, it would be easy for you to be false.”

Elinor did not know what to say to that. She looked again to her mother and father. They did not know what to say either, apparently, as they were silent. Garth, in one of his rare displays of wisdom, kept his mouth shut. Elinor was grateful for the chatter of her relatives and the music from the gallery; she could not bear it if the hall were silent.

It was Prince Maekar who broke the stalemate. “Has she passed your test, Mother?” he said, “Is she worthy of your precious grandson?”

Queen Myriah looked away from her, and turned her head away from her youngest son.

“There is only one person who can answer that,” King Daeron said. He turned to his grandson.

“Daeron, what do you make of your bride to be?” the King asked.

Daeron looked startled. He looked down at her. Please, she pleaded with her eyes.

“She has kind eyes,” he said.

Elinor smiled at him, gratefully.

“If we are done questioning the girl, we ought to let the Tyrells find their seats, so the feast can begin,” the King said.

Elinor curtsied again, “Thank you, Your Grace.” She stepped back to take Garth’s arm again, and they followed their parents to their table.

“What in the Seven Hells was that?” Garth muttered as he pulled out her chair next to their mother.

“Grief,” Mother said, “It sharpens your edges, makes you do and say things you normally would not.”

“No parent should have to bury their child,” Father said softly, “The gods are cruel for taking Prince Baelor as they did. He could have been the greatest king since Jaehaerys, he should have died in bed, surrounded by children and grandchildren after many peaceful years on the throne.”

When they were settled, Mother leaned over to her.

“You did well,” she said, “Sometimes the best thing to say is nothing at all.”

Elinor nodded, “Thank you, Mother.”

Soon after they were all seated, the servants brought out the first course, a sweet pumpkin soup. Elinor had some, and chatted with her cousin Leona Florent. Leona was dressed in the blue and white of her house, and had her hair braided and coiled to hide the tips of her ears. Leona said that she was glad that Elinor had found a husband, and was hoping to find one for herself as well. After the pumpkin soup, a sweetgrass salad was served.

The servants cleared away the salad, and brought smoked salt fish, which Elinor tried but found too salty. Then they brought out roast duck, which both Elinor and Leona liked. When that was cleared away, a beef course was served, which Leona passed on. Her cousin had never much liked red meat. Finally it was time for dessert, and honeycake was brought out. Elinor had one, and Leona had two.

When the dessert plates were cleared away, couples headed to the ballroom floor to dance. Elinor saw King Daeron and Queen Myriah and Prince Valarr and Kiera of Tyrosh among them. Her mother and father got up to dance as well. Elinor sat and sipped her wine, Arbor gold of course, and waited for Daeron to ask her to dance. She had never excelled at dancing, but she was decent at it. Unless her partner was Garth, then she could be somewhat clumsy, depending on how nice he’d been to her that day. Garth came to stand between her chair and Leona’s.

“Thank you brother, but traditionally the first dance goes to one’s betrothed,” Elinor said.

“Who said I was going to ask you?” Garth said, “Leona, would you like to dance?”

Leona smiled, “Yes Garth, I would like that.”

Leona and Garth walked out onto the ballroom floor, and Elinor looked at the high table. Daeron was drinking a glass of wine. Prince Maekar elbowed his son, and whispered something to him. Daeron looked out into the room, somewhat bewildered. He got shakily to his feet and walked over to her.

“Lady Elinor, would you like to dance with me?” Daeron asked, fiddling with the hem of his doublet.

“I would,” she said. She stood, and he offered her his arm. She took it, and they walked to the ballroom floor. There were couples moving all across the room, ladies skirts swishing as they spun. The sun had truly set by now, and the ballroom was bathed in silvery light from the sconces. It gave everything a dreamy quality. Daeron took her right hand in his left, and settled his other hand on her waist. She rested her left hand on his shoulder, and he guided her as they glided across the floor. There were mere inches between them, if she were to lean forward she could rest her head on his shoulder, or kiss him, if she were feeling particularly bold. He was at least six inches taller than her, which she had not noticed before. Then she realized, this was the first time he was standing up straight.

“My apologies for my tardiness in asking you to dance,” he said, “Truly, I had not noticed the dancing had begun. My father forbade me any wine until the feast tonight, and they of course, served me last.”

Elinor nodded, “Do you prefer Arbor gold or Arbor red, or perhaps some Dornish wine I am not familiar with?”

“Arbor red, like a good Targaryen,” he said.

Elinor smiled, “I’m partial to Arbor gold, like any good Tyrell.”

“I had forgotten House Tyrell had so many titles,” Daeron said as he spun her.

When they had returned to their closed position, Elinor said, “The most of any lord paramount, most of them we inherited from House Gardener when we claimed their seat. Or rather, when we were awarded their seat by Aegon the Conqueror. Though Longthorn is the title my father likes best, to me, he is just Father.”

“That must be nice,” Daeron muttered under his breath.

Elinor decided not to acknowledge that comment, as it seemed Daeron was not aware he had spoken out loud.

“Still, the Florents like to call us upjumped stewards. They groan and complain that their claim to Highgarden is better, even though we both descend from the female line, so every few generations a Tyrell marries a Florent to mollify them. The duty fell to my father’s sister Bethany this time,” Elinor said.

Daeron hummed in response, but made no other reply.

“Apologies my prince, I do not mean to bore you with tales of my family’s squabbles,” Elinor said.

“You do not bore me, my lady. I am not a very good dancer, and must devote my attention to that, lest we find ourselves in a pile on the floor,” he said.

“It may lift the court’s mood,” she said, “My family’s spirits are high enough already, of course.”

“The lords and ladies of the court would certainly like it, but my father will be most disappointed,” Daeron said, “And there is nothing that will lift my grandparents’ spirits, nor my cousins.”

“Thank you, by the way,” Elinor said.

Daeron looked confused, “For what?”

“For complimenting me, your grandmother’s scrutiny is a heavy thing to bear,” Elinor said.

“It is true, you have kind eyes. It was the first thing I noticed about you,” Daeron said. He fixed his gaze on her, those sad purple eyes, and her breath hitched.

“I noticed your eyes too,” she said, almost involuntarily, “Your eyes are so sad.”

They stared at each other, neither speaking. Elinor wracked her mind for something to say, then the song ended. The troupe took up a familiar tune, not a slow song meant for partnered dance, but a rousing tune, meant for a circle dance.

“Oh! I love this one! Do you know it, Daeron?” she asked, eyes lighting up.

“No, I cannot say I do,” he shook his head.

Rosamund, Alys, Leona, and Garth appeared to their left.

“It is simple, my prince, we can teach you,” Leona said.

“We need more men,” Rosamund declared, “Where are your cousins?”

“Likely avoiding the ladies of the court,” Alys said, scanning the crowd for them.

“It really is a simple dance, we hold hands and form a circle, alternating men and women, you hop onto your left foot and then bring your right foot to meet it,” Elinor said.

“Yes, even Elinor can manage it,” Garth said.

“It is a difficult problem when one’s gallant brother is annoying you, as you cannot get him to beat himself,” Elinor said.

Garth spotted their Oakheart cousins first, “You could get Lucas or Desmond to do it, but they like me more than you.”

“Lucas! Desmond! Care for a dance in the round?” Garth called.

“Sure, may as well,” Lucas said, and Desmond nodded.

They formed a circle, Daeron to her left and Garth to her right. They began dancing, Elinor’s curls bouncing as they went. Garth whispered some joke to Leona and set her to laughing, and every time Leona tried to repeat it she burst out laughing anew, and eventually all the girls were laughing. Her face was beginning to hurt when she saw Daeron looking at her. He had a slight smile on his face, and the sadness was briefly gone from his eyes. It caught her off guard, and her eyes were so glued to his that she missed her next step and stumbled into him. Garth righted her before she could bring them to the floor, but their eyes were still locked together.

When the final notes of the song played, the girls broke from the circle and stepped into the center. They all linked hands and spun wildly, technically they were supposed to spin gracefully and slowly, so the men could get a good look at them, but Rosamund and Alys had always thought it more fun to go as fast as they could to make themselves dizzy. Then the song was finished and Elinor and Leona stumbled dizzily back towards her prince and her brother.

“I distinctly recall Mother telling you not to do that anymore, since Alys got so dizzy she vomited in the briar maze last time,” Garth said.

“We’re fine,” Leona protested.

“I feel sick just watching you,” Daeron muttered, “I think I need to go sit down.”

“Thank you for the dance, Daeron,” Elinor said, giving a wobbly curtsey.

He smiled at her, and made his way back to the high table.

“I told you he was a drunk,” Garth said.

“But he’s gentle,” Leona said, “And he likes you, I can tell.”

“I’d rather have a gentle drunk than a cruel husband who never touched a drop,” Elinor said.

“Aye, I’d rather you have someone gentle,” Garth said, “Care to dance with me now that your betrothed has retreated?”

“Yes, I’d like that,” Elinor said. After dancing with Garth, she danced with her father, and then all four of her uncles, and then Lucas and Desmond. Whenever she caught a glimpse of the high table, she saw Daeron, drinking and occasionally watching her. When her dance with Desmond was finished, her mother found her.

“We ought to get some sleep,” she said, “We are to have tea with the Queen and her ladies tomorrow afternoon.”

Mother and Elinor walked back to the Maidenvault, where Meg helped her out of her dress and took her hair down. When Elinor was in her nightgown, Meg brushed her hair out while Elinor looked out her window. She could see little flames flickering as the denizens of the Red Keep went about their night. Like little stars against the night sky, she thought. She bid Meg goodnight and said her evening prayers before climbing into bed. Elinor drifted off to sleep, thinking of Daeron and his purple eyes.

Chapter Text

Elinor and her family walked from the Maidenvault to the royal sept for morning prayers. The seven sided building was much the same as many other septs she had been in, though it was not as grand as the one at Highgarden. There were pale marble altars for each of the Seven, with fragrant candles burning on them. The crystals in the high windows turned the late morning light into rainbows shining down on the congregation. They sat in one of the benches towards the front of the sept, a few rows behind the royal family. The King and Queen were present, as well as Prince Valarr and Kiera of Tyrosh. With Prince Valarr sat a woman dressed all in black, her face and hair covered by a veil and a young man, perhaps a little younger than Elinor, with red hair. That must be Lady Jena Dondarrion and Prince Matarys, Elinor thought, Lady Jena is quite young to be a widow. Also with them was a blonde woman wearing a sapphire hairnet. Two children sat next to her, a boy and a girl. The last person sitting in their row was a woman wearing a modest dress and white veil. The woman with the twins is surely Lady Alys Arryn, Elinor mused, so the other one is Lady Aelinor Penrose. Prince Maekar and Prince Daeron were not attending, neither were Lady Alys and Lady Aelinor’s husbands, Prince Rhaegel and Prince Aerys respectively.

The septon was a thin man with a droning voice and Elinor struggled to remain awake through his sermon. He preached from the Seven Pointed Star, after which the congregation sang a hymn in the name of the Father. They were then left to their individual prayers. Father lit a candle for the Father and the Smith, while her brother knelt before the altar of the Warrior. Elinor and her mother stopped first at the altar of the Maiden, to light a candle in thanks for her betrothal. Then they prayed at the altar of the Mother Above, where they prayed that Elinor would be blessed with a child sooner rather than later. Also praying at the Mother’s feet were Lady Aelinor Penrose and Kiera of Tyrosh, who asked for the same, as well as Lady Alys Arryn, who was pregnant again, and was praying for an easy birth and a healthy child. Elinor smiled and curtsied to the other women, and left her own mother there. Elinor lit a candle for the Crone, and asked for the wisdom to be a good wife and mother. Prince Valarr was there as well, praying for guidance. Elinor rose to leave, when she spotted Queen Myriah, Lady Jena, and Prince Matarys praying by themselves at the altar of the Stranger, in silence.

She picked her way through the crowd, and knelt beside them. Prince Matarys was the only one to acknowledge her, nodding when she knelt. She picked up a match and one of the candles, setting it on the altar. She struck the match and lit the candle. For Prince Baelor, she prayed silently, May the Stranger guide him to his rightful place in the Seven Heavens. She stood, and curtsied deeply to the group, before she found her mother waiting for her by the door to the middle bailey.

“I assume you lit a candle at the Stranger’s altar for Prince Baelor,” Mother said, “That was kind of you.”

“I thought it wrong that only the Queen, his widow and the prince were brave enough to face the Stranger to pray for him,” Elinor said.

“The realm mourns for him, in their own way. I am sure that in the North they kneel in front of their heart trees and the Ironborn do whatever it is their Drowned God commands of them,” Mother said, “Come, let us return to the Maidenvault, the Queen has sent her dressmaker to ensure your dress fits, and I would like to be there when she arrives.”

They crossed the courtyard and climbed the stairs to Elinor’s room. Well, it would only be her room for one more night, as she would be wed at noon the next day. Tomorrow evening she would sleep in her husband’s chambers for the first time. They would spend one day in King’s Landing as husband and wife, and then they would be leaving for Summerhall with Prince Maekar. Had circumstances been different, her father might have pushed for a larger wedding and a tourney to celebrate. But it did no good to think about what might have been.

When they arrived in her bedchamber, Mother summoned Septa Tansy and had Elinor sit down. When Septa Tansy arrived, Mother took a deep breath.

“Elinor, you are to be wedded and bedded on the morrow. We ought to go over what will be expected of you,” Mother said, “We Tyrell women will break our fast here in the Maidenvault tomorrow, and you will receive gifts from our kin, then we will ready you and travel to the Great Sept of Baelor in the wheelhouse.”

“The ceremony will be conducted by the High Septon, you will make seven vows, the High Septon will bestow seven blessings upon you, you will exchange seven promises, the wedding song shall be sung, and the challenge shall be made, and go unanswered. Then your lord father will remove your maiden cloak, and your husband will cloak you in the bride’s cloak of House Targaryen. Lastly you will pledge your love to each other and seal your vows with a kiss, and the High Septon will pronounce you married,” Septa Tansy said.

“Then we will return here, where you will change into your feast dress,” Mother said, “The feast will not be so different from those you are used to, except for the wedding pie, you and the prince will cut it together and share a piece.”

“Then someone will call for the bedding and the men in attendance will attempt to undress you, though I suspect Garth may interfere. The women will do the same for the prince, and many in attendance will shout bawdy jokes and suggestions as you are carried to the prince’s bedchamber,” Mother said. Her mother took another deep breath.

“Elinor,” she paused, “What do you know of lovemaking?”

Elinor flushed, “I have seen dogs in the yard of course, and occasionally saw servants in the briar maze.”

Septa Tansy frowned, “They ought not be doing that in the briar maze. The Faith teaches that sex is reserved for a man and a woman wed in the light of the Seven. It is a private thing. Though I know many young men struggle with this teaching.”

“When you consummate your marriage with your husband,” Mother said, not quite making eye contact with Elinor, “He will insert his manhood into your womanly parts, where your moonblood comes from. He will find his pleasure, and spill his seed within you. If you are lucky, you will become pregnant, and nine or so moons later, bring forth a child. There will likely be some pain the first few times, but it can eventually be pleasurable for you as well.”

“Oh,” Elinor said. She did not particularly want to ask any follow up questions, as she did not want to think about how her mother would know the answers. She very vaguely remembered when Aunt Maris gave birth to her cousin Ryam, though she had only been six at the time. She spent much time in the sept praying with Septa Tansy, though she did recall hearing some screaming coming from her aunt’s room.

“How will I know when I am pregnant?” Elinor asked.

“An upset stomach is often the first sign, but the only way to know for sure is when your courses cease. If a few moons have gone by and your blood has not come, inform the maester. He will examine you and confirm a pregnancy,” Mother said, “When you give birth, it will be painful, as the babe must come out the same way it got in.”

Elinor did not like the sound of that. If a man’s cock would be painful going in, how painful would a babe be coming out? But she remembered Aunt Maris afterwards, when they had been allowed to visit. Her aunt had been in tears from joy, and Elinor had loved visiting baby Ryam. She felt a tug in her heart and knew that it would be worth any amount of pain to hold a child of her own in her arms. Perhaps she might even nurse them at her own breast once or twice before giving them up to the wet nurse.

“When you get pregnant, write to me as soon as the maester confirms it, and I will gather up all our best relatives and come to your side. I will be there for you, no matter what,” Mother said, grasping her hand tightly.

“What if… what if I get pregnant and lose the baby? Or it is born dead, like Kiera’s children?” Elinor asked nervously.

“I will be there for you all the same. Losing a pregnancy is terrible, as is a stillbirth, but it is not the end of the world, no matter how much it feels like it at the time,” Mother said, tears in her eyes.

“Mother,” Elinor said softly.

“I know sweetling, but just because it happened to me, does not mean it will happen to you,” Mother said, “And if it does, I will guide you through it.”

Elinor threw her arms around her mother, and they held each other. Mother stroked her hair and rubbed her back. When they parted, Mother wiped at her eyes, and brushed a few tears from Elinor’s face.

“We must pull ourselves together,” Mother joked, “What will the dressmaker think if she finds us weeping?”

“Thank you,” Elinor said, “I feel prepared now, I think.”

Septa Tansy poured them both a goblet of water. Not long after they had drained their cups, there came a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Mother said.

The dressmaker entered with an assistant. The dressmaker was a woman in her thirties with black hair.

“My name is Ellyn,” she said, “If you would not mind, I believe we should start with the ceremony dress.”

The assistant helped Elinor change into her wedding gown. Ellyn had her stand with her arms out to the sides and then walk back and forth across the room.

“The fit is good, if you have no last minute alterations, we can move on to the feast dress,” Ellyn said.

Elinor changed once again, and repeated the process.

Ellyn cocked her head to the side, “This one needs to be hemmed, we don’t want you to trip while dancing.”

Ellyn had her stand still while they measured and pinned the hem. When they were done, she changed back into her pink and purple butterfly gown.

“We will finish the hem tonight, and have both gowns laundered for the morrow,” Ellyn declared.

By the time the process was finished, it was nearly time for tea with the Queen and her ladies.

“We must gather your aunts and cousins, and perhaps bid your father and brother farewell. The King is taking the men hunting,” Mother said.

Elinor doubted that Prince Daeron would have chosen to have a hunt before his wedding, if he did not like horses and swords, hunting was likely only a little better than a tourney. They collected Aunt Maris, Rosamund and Alys first, then Aunt Bethany and Leona, then their Oakheart kin, Aunt Lya and her daughters Delena and Florence, and Aunt Meredyth and her daughter Melara. The group exited the Maidenvault into the middle bailey, where the men of the castle and any women not invited to tea were preparing to leave for the hunt. There were a number of horses milling around, and nobles mounting them, as well as dogs underfoot. Elinor spotted Father and Garth about to mount coursers, as well as the King, Prince Maekar, and Prince Daeron. Elinor and Mother picked their way through the chaos, and Mother gave Father a kiss. They smiled at each other and whispered something.

“Mm, gross,” Garth said.

“I think it’s sweet,” Elinor said.

“It was nice of you to come see me off,” Garth said, “I know you must be busy today.”

“I would wish you good fortune, but you do not need it. So I shall tell you to have fun instead,” Elinor said.

“I shall, though I should have more fun if there was to be a tourney. Then I could crown you queen of love and beauty,” Garth said.

“Only if you won,” Elinor said. Before Garth could retort, she continued, “I do not think Daeron enjoys hunting. Would you look in on him? Keep him from having a terrible time, if you can?”

Garth grimaced slightly, “I do not think we have much in common, but as I have promised Father to be on my best behavior, I will try.”

“How very gallant of you,” Elinor said.

“Yes, I shall expect you to set aside time to sing my virtues later, now go see to your betrothed, he looks as if he’s going to be sick,” Garth said.

She walked over to Prince Daeron, where he was leaning against his horse, a chestnut courser. He was wearing black riding leathers, his hair was partially tied back. He was sweating slightly, and looked pale. When he pulled on his gloves, his hands shook.

She furrowed her brow, “My prince, are you well? You look feverish.” She went to press a hand to his forehead, but he caught it.

He shook his head, “I am not sick, though I do feel awful. My father instructed the servants to refuse me wine. I have not had a drop to drink since last night at the feast.”

“Forgive me, Daeron, but I do not understand,” she said confused.

“You are not familiar with drunks I see. If I go too long without drinking, this happens. The only thing that makes it better is more wine,” he explained.

“How can something be the cause of a sickness and also its cure?” she said.

“I do not know, but it is, at least in my case,” Daeron said.

“Is there nothing to be done?” Elinor asked.

“No, well, there is nothing I can do at least,” he said forlornly.

“Is there something I could do?” Elinor asked.

“I suppose if you were coming on the hunt, you might be able to slip me some wine, but you are having tea with my grandmother, are you not?” he said.

“I am, but my brother is joining you on the hunt, how much would you need to stop this?” Elinor asked.

“More than a flask ideally,” he said, “Perhaps a wineskin.”

Elinor nodded, “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you,” he said, kissing her hand, “I cannot thank you enough.”

“Thank me after I succeed,” she said. She curtsied to him, and hurried back over to Garth. Daeron did look sick, though she was skeptical as to the method of cure. The sickness and the desperation was real, at least. She was sure Garth would know what to do.

“Garth,” she hissed, “I need your help.”

“What is it? What did he say to you?” Garth said quietly.

“Prince Maekar has restricted him from drinking, and it has caused him to be sick. He says the only thing that makes it better is more wine. I know I must sound like a fool, but I do not know what to do,” she whispered.

“Elinor, a drunk will say anything to get his hands on more wine. Likely Prince Maekar forbade it because it is exceedingly dangerous to go hunting while drunk,” Garth said in a hushed tone.

“I suspected that might be the case, but look at him, his condition is real,” Elinor said.

They looked over in unison. Daeron was breathing very slowly, and had closed his eyes. They turned back to each other.

“He does look quite unwell. I’ll help, what do you suggest?” Garth said.

“He said he needs more than a flask of wine, do you think you could sneak to the kitchens and procure a glass of something less strong?” Elinor asked.

Garth thought for a moment, “I’ll get him a flask of beer, it won’t be enough to get him drunk, but hopefully it will keep him from being sick on himself.”

“Thank you, Garth,” Elinor said, kissing him on the cheek.

“Well there’s no need for that,” Garth said, “Enjoy having tea with the Queen and her ladies.”

Garth called over a groom to hold his horse’s reins, and slipped into the crowd. Elinor rejoined her mother, and they collected the rest of their ladies. They wound down the serpentine steps, and across the dry moat into Maegor’s as they had done last night. The herald was waiting for them, and guided the group to the queen’s solar. It was a room brightly lit by the afternoon sun. There were several plus carpets on the stone floor, and rich tapestries hung on the walls. They depicted scenes from Nymeria’s War, from her landing 10,000 ships at the mouth of the Greenblood, her wedding to Mors Martell, the burning of the ships, the Battle of the Boneway, and Nymeria sending six kings to the Wall in chains. In the corner, there was a young woman playing the harp. There were four large tables in the solar. The Queen, Lady Jena Dondarrion and Kiera of Tyrosh sat at the one closest to the large north facing windows. Lady Alys Arryn and a lady bearing the golden hand of House Allyrion on a brooch sat at another table, Lady Aelinor Penrose sat with a lady wearing the leopard of House Santagar on her belt at another table, and at the last table a lady wore silks painted with the golden quill of House Jordayne.

Mother steered her towards the Queen’s table, while Aunt Maris, Rosamund, and Alys joined Lady Alys Arryn and Lady Allyrion. The Oakheart women sat with Lady Jordayne, and Aunt Bethany took Leona to sit with Lady Aelinor Penrose and Lady Santagar.

Queen Myriah Martell was beautiful, Elinor had been so nervous last night at the feast she had barely noticed. Her olive skin glowed in the sun, and her long black hair had streaks of grey running through it. Lady Jena Dondarrion had red hair that was bound beneath a veil, though the veil did not cover her face as it had in the sept that morning, and piercing blue eyes. Kiera of Tyrosh had her pink hair braided in a crown at the back of her head. All three women were still in their mourning blacks. Mother and Elinor curtsied before taking their seats. Queen Myriah sat facing the solar with her back to the window, Lady Jena to her left and Kiera of Tyrosh to her right. Mother sat next to Lady Jena, and Elinor sat between her and Kiera.

Once they had all sat down, tea was served, with biscuits, jam, and cheeses. Elinor poured herself a cup. There was soft chatter at the other tables as the ladies introduced themselves. At their table, Queen Myriah poured herself a cup of tea, and then spoke.

“Thank you for joining us for tea, I know the day before one’s wedding is a busy one, but we wanted to welcome you to the family,” Queen Myriah said. If Elinor strained her ears, she could detect the faintest hint of a lilting accent. She must have lost her accent after so many years in the capital.

“Thank you for inviting us,” Mother said, “It has been a busy day, tending to the final details. Thank you for sending Ellyn to tend to us, if not for her, Elinor might have been tripping over her hem at the feast tomorrow.”

“I remember what it was like when I first came to the capital,” Kiera of Tyrosh said in an almost musical accent, “You are fortunate to have so much of your family with you.”

“I am, having my cousins with me is like having a little piece of Highgarden here,” Elinor said.

“I hope the men are enjoying the hunt,” Kiera said, “It will have to serve as their entertainment since there will be no tourney.”

“My son gave me such a fright last time there was a tourney in King’s Landing, I am almost glad there will not be one,” Mother said.

“I do not believe I was in King’s Landing the last time there was a tourney held, what did he do?” Kiera asked.

“Garth took it upon himself to enter the lists as a mystery knight, he was missing for most of the opening day,” Elinor said.

“I remember that,” Queen Myriah said, “It was the tourney celebrating my husband's twentieth year on the throne. The mystery knight bore a rainbow arc on his shield, and entered as the Knight of the Rainbows. He was a favorite of the smallfolk.”

“He actually did quite well until he came up against Ser Gwayne Corbray of the Kingsguard. They broke seven lances before Ser Gwayne unhorsed him. Leo trained him well, and Garth put up a good fight, but he was no match for Ser Gwayne with Lady Forlorn,” Mother said.

“And yet, he impressed Ser Gwayne. When Garth yielded, Gwayne unmasked him, and offered to knight him. Ser Garth won his spurs that day, and after standing vigil, was dubbed on the steps of the Great Sept. It was really quite something,” Queen Myriah recalled.

“I am sorry to have missed it,” Kiera said.

“He was so proud to win his spurs,” Elinor recalled, “And to be knighted by Ser Gwayne, he would not stop talking about it for months.”

“Do you remember the first thing he said to you when you came off the field?” Mother asked.

Elinor laughed, “Yes, he said he was sorry he lost the tourney. He had wanted to unmask himself as the champion and crown me queen of love and beauty.”

“Did you know that it was him? I cannot imagine one of my siblings getting into mischief and not knowing,” Kiera asked.

“No, but I did grant him my favor. He told me at the welcome feast the first night that I ought to give my favor to the mystery knight if he asked. At the time, I thought it was one of his fellow squires,” Elinor said. Elinor took a sip of her tea.

“How many siblings do you have?” Elinor asked.

“I have a sister called Anye and a brother called Kahal,” Kiera said, “I have not seen them in nearly four years. I suppose whatever mischief they are in, I have no knowledge of now.”

There was a lull in the conversation then, during which the soft chatter of the other tables and the ethereal music of the harp drifted in. Then Lady Jena Dondarrion spoke.

“My son says you lit a candle with us today,” Lady Jena said, voice rough from disuse.

Queen Myriah looked startled, “You did?”

“I lit a candle at the altar of the Stranger for Prince Baelor,” Elinor said softly, “I apologize for not paying my respects, only, I did not want to intrude or burden you with speaking to me if you would rather have remained silent.”

“I fear we were so deep in our prayers that we did not notice,” Queen Myriah said, voice thick with unshed tears.

“What did you pray for?” Lady Jena asked.

“I- I prayed that the Stranger guided Prince Baelor to his rightful place in the seven heavens,” Elinor said.

“It is what we all pray for,” Mother said softly, “From the Wall to the Stepstones, we mourn him.”

“Though not all are brave enough to face the Stranger to do it,” Queen Myriah said.

“I was not trying to be brave,” Elinor said, “I just, I thought it was the right thing to do.”

“It was,” Queen Myriah said, “I am glad that you have come to us, in this trying time. I hope you and my grandson will be happy together and that you will bring out the best in each other.”

“You honor me,” Elinor said, “Prince Daeron is a gentle soul, I have no doubt that our marriage will be a happy one.” It will not be hard to be happy with him, he has been kind thus far, and he does not seem to have the energy to pretend to be someone he is not.

The rest of the tea passed in a similar manner, with Kiera, Mother, and Elinor making conversation and Queen Myriah chiming in occasionally. Elinor and Kiera spent most of the time comparing growing up in Highgarden to growing up in her father's manse in Tyrosh. It ended with them each promising to take the other to their childhood homes one day. Lady Jena Dondarrion did not speak another word. When the afternoon grew late, the herald announced the return of the hunt. Queen Myriah led them over the dry moat, up the serpentine steps, and into the outer bailey to meet them.

King Daeron rode in first, followed by Prince Valarr, Prince Maekar, Prince Daeron, and then Father and Garth. King Daeron dismounted and kissed Queen Myriah. Prince Valarr did the same with Kiera, and wrapped an arm around her waist. Garth nodded to Elinor after his feet hit the ground. Prince Daeron did look better, there was some color back in his face and he did not look as though he was on the verge of being sick.

“Kiera, I’d like you to meet my brother Garth,” Elinor said.

“Ah, the Knight of the Rainbows! It is good to put a face to a name, curious that they did not announce you as such at the feast last night,” Kiera said.

Garth smiled and bowed to her, “I am called Garth the Gallant now. It is the name Ser Gwayne gave me when he dubbed me, and I would not disrespect him by not using it.”

“I remember that tourney, though I do not remember why Ser Gwayne named you the Gallant,” Prince Valarr said.

“I was freshly six and ten, and stupid enough to ask him for a favor. I asked that if he won, he name Elinor queen of love and beauty in my stead,” Garth said, “The point was moot however, as Prince Baelor won the joust.”

“That was for the best, Lady Jena made a better queen of love and beauty than I would've,” Elinor said.

“My brother said you lit a candle for our father today,” Prince Valarr said.

“Did Matarys tell everyone in the castle?” Kiera asked.

“He did not tell me,” Daeron said, as he joined them.

“How was the hunt, my prince?” Elinor asked.

“Better than I expected,” Daeron said, “Thank you.”

“Septa Tansy would be proud to hear you lit a candle for Prince Baelor,” Garth said.

“She would tell me that some believe that praying to the Stranger draws his eye,” Elinor said.

“Aye some do, and I am not so sure they are wrong. Only the mad go looking for death,” Garth said.

Elinor blinked at him, “Honestly Garth, why would you say something so ominous on the eve of my wedding?”

“Oh should I stop being your brother because you are to be wed tomorrow? Should I cease to care for your well-being? You’ll be singing a different tune come the bedding tomorrow,” Garth said.

Kiera giggled and Valarr smiled.

“If you ever get married, I'll trip you at your bedding,” Elinor said.

“That might be sooner rather than later, I noticed you dancing with a lady in blue and white at the feast last night,” Kiera said.

“That was our cousin, Leona,” Garth said, “She's nice, but we grew up together, and unfortunately I cannot marry any of my Highgarden cousins. They'll always be the little girls who played ring around the rosie in the gardens to me.”

“Aw, how sweet,” Kiera said, “I hope our children will be that close with their cousins someday.”

“Matarys is not even betrothed yet,” Prince Valarr said, “It may be many years before he has children.”

“But Lady Elinor and Daeron could have a child in as soon as a year, if the gods are kind,” Kiera said.

Elinor flushed, “The gods have been cruel as of late, I think you are due for their kindness first. And as much as I want to be a mother, I would not mind a year or two to get used to the prospect.”

“You want to be a mother?” Daeron asked, a strange, faraway look across his face.

“Of course, doesn't everyone want children?” Elinor said.

“I had not thought of it until recently,” Daeron said, reaching for her hand, “I… I suppose I do.”

He took her hand, and squeezed it. She smiled and squeezed back. Garth looked at her with slight disapproval.

“They are to be wed in less than a day, Ser Garth the Gallant. Surely they can hold hands today, when tomorrow night they will be as close as two people can be,” Kiera teased.

Elinor’s heart fluttered in her chest, and she looked up from their joined hands to meet Daeron’s eyes. She thought she might drown in their purple depths. Her eyes drifted to his lips, and she felt that if she did not kiss him she might die. His lips parted slightly, and she knew he must be thinking along the same lines.

“Today is today, and tomorrow is tomorrow, though I would rather Elinor never be undressed by a crowd of strange men and delivered to a husband she has known for less than a week,” Garth said.

“She has nothing to fear from me,” Valarr said, “I know better. Though I may make some joke about deflowering, it’s simply too easy.”

“You don't need to be afraid of me either,” Daeron said quietly, “I know the bedding can be daunting, to say the least.”

“I'm not afraid,” Elinor said, “I know you won't hurt me.”

“We caught a deer, if anyone is interested,” Garth said.

“Not particularly,” Elinor muttered.

“I imagine they’ll serve it for dinner tonight,” Valarr said.

“Shame we won’t get to have any,” Garth said, “Father and I put quite a bit of work into catching it.”

“You aren’t dining with us tonight?” Kiera asked.

“We dine in the Maidenvault with our uncles, aunts, and cousins tonight,” Elinor said.

“She spends her last night as a Tyrell with us,” Garth said, “Although we Tyrell men will be breaking our fast with you Targaryens on the morrow, so we may present Daeron with his gifts.”

“Gifts?” Daeron asked, confused.

“Did no one tell you? It is tradition in the Reach to give gifts to a bride and groom on the morning of their wedding. The day after we give you gifts as a couple,” Garth said.

“My grandmother may have mentioned it, though I have had little to do with planning the wedding,” Daeron said.

“The only thing I was allowed to express my opinion on was the dress,” Elinor said.

“And it turned out beautifully,” Mother said, appearing behind her. She curtsied to the princes. “Forgive me for interrupting, but Garth and Elinor are needed for dinner,” she said.

Daeron squeezed her hand once before letting go and fiddling with the edge of his cloak. Elinor looked around the courtyard. While they had been chatting, most of the hunt had cleared out, and most people were heading to either the Maidenvault or Maegor’s Holdfast.

“Of course my lady, we did not mean to keep them,” Valarr said.

“It is quite alright, I normally would not interrupt, but we must eat early tonight so we may be well rested for the morrow,” Mother said.

Elinor turned to Daeron, “I must bid you goodnight then,” she said.

“Goodnight,” he said, “I hope you sleep well.”

“I normally do, but I think I shall be tossing and turning tonight,” Elinor said.

“As shall I,” Daeron muttered.

The group said their goodbyes, and Garth and Elinor followed their mother back into the Maidenvault. After everyone had prepared for the meal, they made their way to the small dining hall, where people were sitting down at a long table. Father sat at the head, and there were empty seats to his left and right. Mother sat to his right, and Elinor sat to his left. Garth sat to Elinor’s left, and dinner was served. They supped on suckling pig that night, served with roast vegetables and sweet wine. As they ate she leaned over to Garth.

“Thank you,” she said, “I know you did not want to help, but thank you.”

“It is not that I did not want to help,” Garth said, “Merely that I thought he might be playing us for fools.”

“His sickness was real, you saw that,” she said.

“Aye, that it was. He looked as if he wanted to complain about the beer, but he perked right up after he drank it,” her brother responded.

Father stood then, and raised his cup.

“A toast! To my daughter on the eve of her wedding! May her marriage be happy and long!” Father said.

The rest of the table raised their cups, and drank. When Father sat, he turned to her.

“You know as well as I do the practical benefits this marriage will bring, prestige to our house, closer ties to the throne, and that you will one day be Princess of Summerhall, that your sons and daughters will be princes and princesses. But I chose Prince Daeron with care for you as well. There were other men who wrote to me for your hand, some old, some young, lords of castles and second sons. I had not met any of them, not taken their measure. I saw Prince Daeron at the Tourney at Ashford and I knew what to make of him. He may be a drunk, as they say, but he will never raise a hand to you. True, he is not like to be able to protect you himself, but often the man most dangerous to a woman is her husband,” Father took a drink, “Whilst Prince Maekar and I live, few would be mad enough to touch you. Still, I am not as young as I once was. When we return to Highgarden, Garth is taking Ryam to squire. When Garth deems him ready, Ryam will be knighted and be your sworn shield.”

“Father, I… I do not know what to say. Have Ryam and Garth agreed to this?” Elinor asked.

“Ryam wants to be a Kingsguard, as all boys his age do. When he realises he may want a wife instead, he can be your knight and make us all proud,” Father said, “Garth needed no convincing when I suggested it. Rest assured, your Uncle Garlan approves as well. This way his son may serve our house, the realm, win great glory, and still marry and hold a child of his own in his arms, if he so chooses.”

“Thank you, Father,” Elinor said.

“Think nothing of it,” Father said, waving his hand through the air.

But she would. This was more than his duty to her. As her father, all he needed to do was find her a husband. He found her a gentle one, who would not harm her, and made arrangements for her protection as well. Some lords just shipped their daughters off to the highest bidder, be he cruel or kind. Father had made her a good match, and seen to her safety too. She thought she would be happy with Daeron, and perhaps love him as well, given time. She was smiling softly to herself when the servants brought out deserts. Little apple cakes, cut in the shape of roses. She laughed and plopped one in her mouth. The tops had been dusted with cinnamon and sugar, and they were delicious. Elinor had two more before she bid her family goodnight and headed up to bed. Her hair was brushed and loosely braided, and she changed into her nightgown.

When she knelt by the bed to pray that night, she prayed for all the things she had prayed for that morning, thanking the Maiden for a good match, asking the Mother to bless her with a child, praying the Crone would grant her wisdom. She had never been one to pray to the male faces of the Seven, except for during the Rebellion, when she asked the Father to dispense justice, the Warrior to lend his strength to her father, and the Smith to keep the walls of Highgarden strong. Tonight she prayed to the Smith again. Please, let us build a good marriage, a happy marriage, a strong marriage. She climbed into bed and made herself comfortable. Elinor spent several hours staring at the ceiling, picturing herself standing in front of Daeron, in front of the crowd at the Great Sept of Baelor. Over and over again, she saw him cloak her in his colors and kiss her.

Chapter Text

Elinor picked at her breakfast. It wasn’t that the food was displeasing to her, rather that her appetite had deserted her.

“You ought to get something in you, else you are likely to faint in the sept,” Mother said.

Elinor nodded, and managed to get down a slice of bread and some fruit, which she washed down with some tea. Once she had filled her belly as much as she could, her mother had the plates cleared away, and it was time for her bride gifts. Aunt Lya and her cousins Delena and Florence went first. Aunt Lya gifted her with a bolt of Myrish lace, and Delena and Florence presented her with a set of embroidery needles of varying sizes and spools of fine silk thread in every color. Aunt Meredyth and Melara gave her a new pair of riding boots and new travelling cloak. Aunt Maris and Rosamund and Alys presented their gifts next, a set of haircombs wrought with golden roses, with a matching necklace and earrings. Then Aunt Bethany presented her with two books, Dragonkin, Being a History of House Targaryen from Exile to Apotheosis, with a Consideration of the Life and Death of Dragons written by Maester Thomax, and When Women Ruled: Ladies of the Aftermath written by Archmaester Abelon.

“I hope you will find them useful,” Aunt Bethany said, “Perhaps you might find a baby name in the first. The second is an accounting of hundreds of women across the Seven Kingdoms who ruled in the place of dead husbands, fathers, and brothers or were regents for infant sons after the Dance. Many of them ruled wisely, some of them did not. There is much to be learned from both.”

“Thank you very much,” Elinor replied, “I shall make good use of them.”

“When you are done studying perhaps you might unwind with these,” Leona said. Leona’s gifts were another two books. Wonders Made by Man written by famous traveller Lomas Longstrider, and Jade Compendium, a collection of legends and stories from Essos, written by Colloquo Votar.

“Thank you, Leona,” Elinor smiled, “I love them.”

Her mother’s gifts came last. First, a golden locket, with portraits of Mother and Father in it. “Oh, Mother, I shall treasure it always,” she said. Then a book, In the Steps of the Mother written by Archmaester Dake and Septa Violet.

“It is a guide to pregnancy, childbirth, and childrearing,” Mother said.

Then Mother presented her last gift, a green velvet cloak glittering with emeralds, with a golden rose embroidered in the center. It was her maiden’s cloak.

“Thank you, Mother,” Elinor said softly.

“Best go and get ready, that cloak needs to be put to use,” Aunt Bethany said.

Elinor finished her cup of tea, and headed back up the stairs to her room. Nearly all of her things had been moved out, likely to Daeron’s apartments in Maegor’s Holdfast. All that remained was the clothing she would need for the wedding and the feast. There was a large steaming bath by the window, and two maids waiting for her. The maids were older than Jeyne and Meg had been, perhaps in their mid thirties. They curtsied and helped her get undressed and into the bath. She was scrubbed from head to toe, and her hair washed and combed. Once she was out of the bath, her fingernails were shaped while the other maid wound her curls around her fingers. Next, Elinor applied the same rose perfume she had for the welcome feast. Then the seamstress Ellyn arrived, to help her dress. Her smallclothes were silk, as was the dress. It was a beautiful thing, ivory silk and Myrish lace with long sheer, flowing sleeves and a neckline that swept just below her collarbones. Her skirts were heavy and full, and embroidered with golden vines. The bodice was tightly fitted, and glittered with threads of cloth-of-gold. Ellyn laced her in, and then the maids helped her into her shoes, golden velvet slippers. The finishing touches were emerald earrings and a bit of rouge dabbed on her lips and cheeks. There came a knock at the door when they were finished, and her father stepped in, carrying her maiden’s cloak.

“You look beautiful,” he said. She beamed at him, and Father stepped behind her to sweep the cloak around her shoulders, and fastened it with a thin golden chain.

“Are you ready?” Father asked.

Elinor took a deep breath.

“Yes, I am,” she said. He took her arm and they walked down the steps of the Maidenvault and out through the middle bailey into the outer yard of the Red Keep. They were the last of the nobles leaving for the Sept. Father helped her up into their wheelhouse, and they set off out of the castle and down the King’s Way, towards the Great Sept of Baelor. Elinor drew back the curtains and saw countless people lining the streets of King’s Landing, waving at their wheelhouse and cheering.

“They do not know me, and yet they cheer,” Elinor said, “The people must be desperate for some happiness after Prince Baelor’s death.”

“That, and you are my daughter,” Father said, “Much has been made of my efforts during the Rebellion. For over ten years, the singers have been saying the Pretender would have won if not for Prince Baelor, Prince Maekar, and myself. In truth, no one man can take the credit, though I did my part. The people are happy to see the Longthorn’s daughter and the Anvil’s son wed. They are happy for a royal wedding, with a Westerosi bride who keeps the Seven, not a foreigner whose customs and gods they do not know.”

“Kiera seems lovely, I am sure she will make a good queen,” Elinor said.

“She may be Good Queen Alysanne come again, but the last time a foreign woman wed a Targaryen prince, it did not end well, and nobody thought Larra Rogare would be queen,” Father said.

“Kiera is not Larra, she speaks the Common Tongue and she prays in the sept with everyone else,” Elinor said.

“I hope that is enough to make a difference, Prince Valarr will make a good king someday, and I would rather his reign not be marred by an incident similar to the Lysene Spring,” Father said. He sighed and looked out the window of the wheelhouse, “I do hate traveling this way, I would much rather be riding.”

“Unfortunately, I cannot ride in this dress,” Elinor said, “Nor would I want to go to my groom smelling like a horse.” They came to the Great Square in the center of the city and the wheelhouse turned left, climbing up Visenya’s Hill to the Great Sept of Baelor. The crowds were thicker here and it took longer to get to the steps of the Sept. When they finally did arrive, her father opened the door and stepped out to a wave of applause. Father helped her down and took her arm while an attendant helped her with her skirts. Elinor smiled and waved to the crowd as they climbed the white marble steps. The Great Sept was named for King Baelor the Blessed, who ended the last Dornish war, before starving himself to death when his sister became pregnant out of wedlock. Elinor had always thought it a bit silly to starve yourself to death over such a thing, but she would never say it out loud.

The Sept was a massive building carved out of white marble, with seven tall crystal towers and a huge dome wrought of glass, gold, and crystal. The doors to the Hall of Lamps were already open, and Father and Elinor passed beneath dozens of globes of colored glass before stepping into the Sept proper. The benches were filled with people, most of whom Elinor did not know. At the far end of the Sept, standing beneath the statue of the Father, was Daeron. Next to him stood Prince Maekar, and the High Septon stood at the altar between the statues of the Mother and the Father. The midday sun caught the dome and the hanging crystals, sending rainbows through the space. As they drew towards the end of the aisle, Elinor recognized more faces. Her own kin sat together, in the front row, all her aunts and uncles and cousins, and she spotted Mother and Garth as well. They were a sea of green and gold, only slightly broken up by Aunt Bethany, Uncle Thaddeus, and Leona and Alyn in Florent blue and white. It is convenient that the Oakheart colors are the same as ours, it makes it much easier to present a united front.

The other side of the aisle was populated with the royal family, King Daeron and Queen Myriah, Lady Jena and Prince Matarys, Prince Valarr and Kiera, Prince Aerys and Lady Aelinor, and Prince Rhaegel and Lady Alys. Lady Alys’s children sat next to her, and it looked like they were just barely sitting still. The family still wore black, though there were a few flashes of red fabric among them.

Elinor’s family beamed at her as they walked past, and the royal family managed a number of melancholy smiles, except for Prince Rhaegel, who seemed in a daze, and Lady Jena, who barely turned her head. Kiera of Tyrosh caught her eye, and her smile was genuine. Elinor’s smile deepened, and she held Kiera’s gaze for a second before turning back to the altar.

Daeron stood beneath the gilded statue of Our Father Above, wearing a black and red doublet and black breeches. His sandy hair was tied back, displaying a faint scar on his left cheek, and his purple eyes were fixed on her. Daeron looked at her with something she could not place in his eyes, it might have been desire, it might have been sorrow. Prince Maekar stood to his right, dressed similarly, jaw slightly clenched. They reached the altar, and Elinor stepped off Father’s arm to stand under the statue of Our Mother Above. Daeron reached out, and she took his hands in hers. She felt her father move to stand behind her, ready to remove her maiden’s cloak when the time came.

The High Septon wore long white robes and a crystal crown, which threw more rainbows around the sept whenever he moved. The Father of the Faithful began with the traditional prayers. When that was finished, he moved on to the vows, the ones they would make to the gods. He turned to Daeron first.

When Daeron had vowed to keep all aspects of the Seven, Elinor did the same. After that, they received their blessings, one from each face of the Seven. Then it was time to exchange promises. As before, Daeron went first and Elinor followed. They promised to be faithful, to love one another, to protect one another, to guide one another, to honor one another, to care for one another, and to do so until death parted them. Elinor’s legs were beginning to feel quite stiff as the crowd stood to sing the wedding song, and Daeron looked like he was having trouble focusing. She squeezed his hand, and he smiled at her slightly.

When the song was finished, the High Septon called out, “Are there any who would challenge this marriage?”

The sept was silent. Elinor’s father removed her maiden’s cloak, and Prince Maekar handed Daeron the bride’s cloak. It was black sable with a red three headed dragon embroidered on it. Daeron swept the cloak over her shoulders, and clasped the chain around her neck. Just like that, she passed from her father’s protection to her husband’s. Daeron took her hands again. Elinor’s heart beat rapidly, and she felt butterfly wings brush against her stomach.

“With this kiss I pledge my love, and take you for my lady and wife,” Daeron said.

“With this kiss I pledge my love, and take you for my lord and husband,” Elinor replied.

Elinor lifted her face, and Daeron leaned down. Her lips parted slightly, and when Daeron kissed her, a spark raced down her spine and her heart leapt. She had been kissed before, but never like this. They parted, and Elinor smiled up at him. He was smiling too, though perhaps not as widely as she was.

The High Septon raised a crystal high above, bathing them in even more rainbows. “Here in the sight of gods and men,” he said, “I proclaim Daeron of House Targaryen and Elinor of House Tyrell to be man and wife, one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever, and cursed be the one who comes between them.”

Daeron linked his arm with hers, and the procession took them out of the sept. Two white cloaks went first, followed by Princess Aelora throwing rose petals, and then Daeron and Elinor. They passed back through the Hall of Lamps and down the marble steps. The crowd was cheering for them again.

“They have never cheered for me before,” Daeron said.

“Father says it is because they love our fathers for their heroic actions during the Rebellion. I think they love spectacle,” Elinor said.

“Perhaps it is both,” Daeron said.

They stood below the statue of Baelor the Blessed, and the gold cloaks held the crowd back. Person after person offered their congratulations and the faces began to blur together. When the last guests filed into wheelhouses or mounted horses, Daeron helped Elinor into the royal wheelhouse. Daeron sat across from her.

“This is the closest we have come to being alone,” Elinor said, “Strange that it should happen for the first time while we are surrounded by people.”

Daeron nodded.

“I wish the wedding had not been so quickly after we arrived, I would have liked more time to get to know you,” she said.

“In normal circumstances we might have had weeks or months, Kiera was here for a year before she and Valarr wed. But with the embarrassment at Ashford and Baelor’s death, my father is eager to get back to Summerhall,” he replied.

“Embarrassment?” she asked.

“Did your father not tell you what happened at Ashford?”

Elinor shook her head, “He said there was some trouble, that you, Prince Aerion, and Prince Aegon were involved, and that it led to Prince Baelor’s death. I tried pressing him on it, but he had said all he was going to.”

Daeron sighed, “Likely trying to protect my honor, or perhaps he simply did not want you to try and break the betrothal.”

“So what happened?” she asked.

“It started when my father commanded me to enter the lists. I didn't particularly want to, as I mentioned I hate horses and swords, so I took Aegon, who was my squire, and stole away from the group,” he said, “I shaved his head so he wouldn't be recognized, and we hid out at an inn near Ashford where I spent several days getting marvelously drunk. At some point, Egg slipped away. Then my father turned up and demanded to know where Egg was. I said a robber knight had stolen him, and that I had been looking for him. Apparently Egg had attached himself to a hedge knight, Ser Duncan the Tall. There was a puppet show, and the puppeteers did Serwyn of the Mirror Shield slaying the dragon Urrax.”

“Oh, the smallfolk love that tale,” Elinor cut in.

“They probably loved the performance too, right up until Aerion began breaking the puppeteer’s fingers,” Daeron said.

“What? Why would he do that?” Elinor gasped.

“He thinks he is a dragon in human form,” Daeron shrugged, “Why he thinks that I have no idea.”

“Awful as that is, I don't see how it could have led to Prince Baelor’s death,” Elinor said.

“Egg was at the puppet show, and ran to get Ser Duncan to stop Aerion, which he did. Ser Duncan beat him soundly, and was then arrested, for kidnapping Egg and striking Aerion. Ser Duncan demanded a trial by combat, and Aerion demanded a trial of seven. My father commanded me and the kingsguard to serve with him as Aerion’s champions. Prince Baelor took Ser Duncan’s side, and died after the trial from a blow by my father's mace,” Daeron said.

Elinor blinked.

“You must have questions,” Daeron said.

“Why did you lie to your father about where Egg was?” Elinor said.

Daeron chuckled. Then when Elinor looked at him in confusion, he said, “Well, he had my feet whipped when I told him Egg had been stolen, I shudder to think what he would have done if I had told the truth, that I was too drunk to notice Egg had run off.”

Elinor frowned, “That seems extreme.”

“What, your father never put you over his knee?” Daeron said.

Elinor shook her head, “No, the worst I ever got was being sent to bed without supper.”

“What a charmed life you must have led,” Daeron said.

“I have never had any cause to complain,” Elinor responded.

“Ever since we got back from Ashford, Grandmother can barely look at Father. That's why he wants to get back to Summerhall, so she can grieve in peace,” Daeron said.

“So why the hasty marriage? Why not wait until later in the year when the wounds are not so fresh?” Elinor asked.

“My father said I cannot be trusted to mind myself, so he was going to find a wife to do it for me. Good luck, by the way,” Daeron said.

Elinor looked him up and down, “You don't seem too difficult to mind.”

Daeron laughed, “I have been on my best behavior since you got here, under threat of foot whipping.”

“Asking me to get my brother to sneak you wine is your best behavior?” Elinor raised a brow.

“It's certainly not my worst, and your brother gave me beer, not wine” Daeron wrinkled his nose.

“He pointed out that it is very dangerous to be drunk while hunting, so I asked him to get you something less strong,” Elinor smiled.

“Perhaps being minded by you won't be so bad,” Daeron said, "Though please, wine next time. A cup of wine is not enough to get me drunk anymore, and it is so much more pleasant than beer.”

“Perhaps if I’m feeling generous,” Elinor said, “So you hate horses and swords, and you don't like hunting or tourneys, what do you enjoy?”

“Drinking,” Daeron said, “And whatever entertainment is at the tavern or inn I've found myself at.”

“There must be more than that,” Elinor said.

Daeron thought for a minute, “I suppose I like plays, and cards and tiles. When I was a child, I used to like fishing with my father and Aerion. It's not as much fun by yourself. And well, I've been expressly forbidden from my favorite pastime.”

“Which was?” Elinor asked.

Daeron grinned slyly, “It's ah, not a polite topic of conversation for a highborn maiden.”

“Then I suppose I shall have to wait until tonight to hear it, when I am no longer a maiden,” Elinor said.

“What about you, what do you do to pass the time?” Daeron asked.

“I like to embroider, I'm fond of reading, and I like riding or being outdoors in general,” Elinor said, “If you do not mind me saying, you seem in better spirits today.”

“I am,” Daeron said, “There was wine at breakfast, and the only thing that is expected of me tonight is to make merry at the feast.”

“That should not be so hard,” Elinor said.

“No, it shouldn’t,” Daeron replied. As he finished speaking, the wheelhouse rolled to halt in the Red Keep’s outer yard. The door was opened and Daeron helped her down. They walked arm in arm past the small hall and into the middle bailey. Daeron made for the serpentine steps, when Elinor stopped him.

“My feast dress is in my chambers in the Maidenvault,” she said.

“Of course, I suppose I’ll meet you in Maegor’s for the feast then?” Daeron said.

“Yes, I’ll see you then,” she said. And then, before her courage could desert her, she kissed him. Their lips brushed for little more than a second, but Daeron looked surprised. Before he could react, she scurried back into the Maidenvault and up the stairs to her chambers. Ellyn was waiting for her again, ready to help her change. First, Ellyn and the maids took off her bride’s cloak, then her gown, and then her chemise. Then they slipped her into her feast dress, green silk with a neckline that bore her shoulders and the tops of her breasts. The bodice was tightly laced, and the skirts clung to her hips before flowing to the floor.

“We’ll get the dress and cloak packed away safely,” Ellyn said, while the maids fussed with her hair. Once her curls had been arranged to their liking and her hair flowed long and loose down her back, Elinor was escorted to Maegor’s Holdfast. The guests were already in the Queen’s Ballroom, and Daeron was waiting for her outside the doors. He had changed into a red doublet over a black shirt, and when he saw her, his eyes traced her form.

“You could not wear this in the sept,” Daeron said.

“No, I could not,” Elinor said, holding out her arm for him to take. He did, pulling her close to his side. She smiled up at him, and he kissed her.

“For the kiss you stole earlier,” he said, when they parted.

“Stole?” she said, “I am your wife, I hardly think a parting gesture counts as stealing.”

“Not much of a gesture to kiss me and run off,” he said.

“I had to get changed, or would you rather I attended the feast in my sept dress and left this one in the Maidenvault?” Elinor said.

“No, I much prefer you in this,” Daeron said. He gestured towards the door, “Shall we?”

Elinor nodded, and the huge doors were pulled open. Everyone else had already found their seats, but for two that sat empty, between the King and Prince Maekar. Daeron guided her up to the high table as music floated down from the gallery. Before they took their seats, King Daeron called for a toast.

“To my grandson and his wife, may they know every happiness!” the King said. The room lifted their goblets in their direction, and someone shouted, “To the dragon and the rose!” The cry echoed around the ballroom. Elinor and Daeron sat, and the first course was brought out, a creamy vegetable soup. Elinor thought it was delicious, and would have asked for a second bowl had it been served at Highgarden. The next dish served was hot peppers stuffed with cheese, apparently a favorite of the Queen. Elinor took a bite, and her tongue was immediately set on fire. She gulped down her wine in an attempt to stop the burning.

“Not fond of spicy food?” Daeron asked. Elinor shook her head no.

“Neither is my father, though my mother loved the spicy Dornish dishes she grew up with, and had them served often at Summerhall,” Daeron said.

“Did your siblings like them as much as your mother did?” Elinor asked.

“We liked them well enough, but not nearly as much as she did,” he replied, “I think she liked them in part because my father could not stand them, she often teased him about it.”

“Your mother had a teasing sense of humor,” Prince Maekar remarked. Elinor looked to her left. He had not even touched the peppers on his plate. The song changed then, and Elinor recognized the familiar strains of “A Rose of Gold”. Prince Maekar scoffed.

“How obvious of the musicians, no doubt we will have to sit through a version of ‘the Hammer and the Anvil’ next,” Prince Maekar said.

“Perhaps if we are lucky they’ll play ‘The Dornishman’s Wife’,” Daeron said.

“They’d be foolish to do so, your grandmother hates that song,” Prince Maekar said, “Though all musicians are fools.”

The peppers were cleared away, and a spring salad was served next. Then the musicians did play “The Hammer and the Anvil" and Prince Maekar rolled his eyes. While they dined on partridge, they played “My Lady Wife” and as venison was served, they sang “Two Hearts That Beat as One”. By this point Elinor was feeling quite full, and only managed about half her portion of lamb. She sipped at her wine, her second glass, as they brought out the last course, salmon in a lemon sauce. Elinor nibbled at her fish, it really was a shame she couldn’t have more, but there was still the wedding pie to come. Daeron ate some of most of the courses, though he was far more interested in his wine cup.

“What is that, your third glass?” she asked.

“Fourth,” he said.

“How much do you usually have?” she asked.

He shrugged, “I have no idea, I usually drink until I pass out, or stumble back to my chambers.”

“That cannot possibly be good for you,” she frowned.

“It is better than the alternative,” he said.

“The sickness?” she asked.

“Or worse,” Daeron muttered. She was about to ask what he meant, when they brought in the wedding pie. The crust was golden brown, and the pie was big enough to feed the whole ballroom. If Elinor listened closely, she could hear the faint beating of wings. She and Daeron stood, and the rest of the room followed. They made their way around the table, to stand before the pie. Prince Maekar drew his blade, a longsword with a dragon’s head carved on the hilt, and pressed it into his son’s hand. She stepped closer to stand face to face with her husband. Elinor wrapped her hand around both the hilt and Daeron’s hand. His hands were not shaking this time. He kissed her quickly, before slicing into the pie and freeing the doves trapped inside. The birds went flying every which way, and the crowd cheered. Elinor smiled at Daeron, and kissed him again before letting go of his hand and the sword. Daeron passed the blade back to his father, and they returned to their seats for the pie.

“You know your way around a sword,” Daeron remarked.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Elinor said, raising a brow.

Daeron chuckled, “That is not what I meant, only that, well whatever I say is going to sound indecent now, but you have held a blade before?”

“I have, my brother showed me when I asked him what he did in the training yard all day. I offered to show him how to hold a needle, but he did not seem interested,” Elinor said.

“He doesn’t seem the type to be interested in sewing,” Daeron said.

“Are you?” Elinor asked.

“No, but my sister Daella is. She loves to embroider clothes for me and Father. I might have worn one tonight, but she’s not very good,” Daeron said. Slices of hot pigeon pie were placed in front of them. Elinor took a bite, the crust was flaky and the filling was moist and tender. As it was ill luck not to eat the pie at a wedding, Elinor finished it and washed it down with yet another cup or Arbor gold. The pie was cleared away and the troupe began playing songs for dancing, rather than background music. Elinor looked at Daeron, and all eyes in the hall fell on them.

“It is tradition for the bride and groom to open the dancing,” she said.

“Give me one moment,” he said, and drained his cup. He stood and offered her his hand. She took it, and they descended the dais to the floor. He settled his other hand on her waist, and Elinor put her hand on his shoulder. They moved across the floor together. Elinor smiled up at him.

“You look very handsome,” she said.

“Thank you, you look lovely as well,” he said with a small smile.

“I think my feet shall be numb tomorrow,” Elinor said, “They are already aching from the sept, and the dancing has just begun.”

“Mine never truly recovered from being whipped by my father at Ashford and then ridden over by my horse,” Daeron said.

“That is an ordeal, how did you manage to walk around the next day?” Elinor asked.

Daeron smiled, “Ungodly amounts of wine, of course.”

“I might have guessed,” she said.

“Do you think we will be expected to dance all night?” Daeron said, “It has been a long day.”

“At some point someone will call for the bedding,” Elinor said, reddening slightly.

“At least you’ll be off your feet then,” Daeron said.

“Will you not be?” the words slipped out before she could think better of them. That's what you get for drinking three cups of wine.

He gave her a sly, lopsided grin, “I’ll likely be on my knees.”

“Oh,” she flushed. Elinor realized that while her mother had explained what consummation was, she had not detailed exactly how things were meant to fit together. She tried to think back to the couples she had seen in the briar maze, obviously she had not lingered once she realized what she was seeing, so she only had flashes of images to work with. It seemed that men at arms would often take serving girls, or sometimes each other, on their hands and knees. That made sense, but she did not think she would like it. She wouldn't be able to see Daeron’s face like that.

She opened her mouth to ask him… something, and then closed it when she realized she had no idea what to ask him. He raised a brow at her, mirth in his eyes.

“You are enjoying this,” she accused.

“I cannot help it, someone has told you something, but clearly not enough. You look very cute trying to figure it out,” Daeron said.

“I don’t suppose you’d just tell me?” she asked.

“If you are so keen to find out, you could call for the bedding yourself,” Daeron said.

“I most certainly could not, I am the daughter of a great lord, not a barmaid,” Elinor said.

“Then I suppose you’ll have to wait,” Daeron said, “It likely won’t be long now, my grandsire was generous with the wine, and in a few songs some lord will decide he’d rather see that dress on the floor than on you.”

Then the song ended, and Prince Maekar offered a hand to her. She would be expected to dance with all of the lords of note, it was not surprising that her good father wanted to get his dance out of the way. They joined hands, and Prince Maekar rested his free hand gingerly on her waist, while Elinor’s hand found his shoulder. Elinor was about to try and strike up a conversation with Prince Maekar, when she saw her mother hold out a hand to Daeron. She watched out of the corner of her eye as he awkwardly took it.

She could see her mother talking to him, but couldn't quite make out what she was saying. Daeron made eye contact over her mother's shoulder. Help, his eyes said. Elinor smiled apologetically.

Prince Maekar frowned down at her, “What are you craning your neck at?”

Elinor snapped back into place, “Apologies my prince, I did not mean to be rude. It is just that my mother has ensnared Prince Daeron and he looks quite uncomfortable.”

Prince Maekar nodded, “He would be, my son has grown unaccustomed to mothers, as have all my children.”

“What are your younger children like?” Elinor asked.

“Daella is quite sweet, Rhae is spirited, and Aegon is too clever for his own good,” Maekar said.

“They sound lovely, it's a shame they couldn't come for the wedding,” Elinor said.

When she had finished her dance with her good father, she danced with King Daeron, and then her father, then her brother, then a number of cousins, both hers and Daeron’s, and by that point she had given up trying to keep track and merely made conversation with whoever she was next on the arm of.

After she realized she was dancing with a man whose sigil she did not recognize, the King called for the bedding.

“My grandson and his bride have been joined in the sight of gods and men, but they are not yet man and wife. If the court is ready, I think it may be time for a bedding,” King Daeron said.

A cry went up from the ballroom, “To bed! To bed! To bed with them!”

The musicians began playing “The Queen Took Off Her Sandal, the King Took Off His Crown” and various men of the court approached her. One of them reached out to tug at her dress when Elinor was swept off her feet.

“Absolutely not,” Garth said, as he hitched her knees into his elbow.

“Thank you,” Elinor said, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Garth set a brisk pace, dancing out of the way of grasping hands as they were jeered by the crowd. Elinor saw Prince Valarr suppressing a smile as Garth sidestepped Manfred Dondarrion. Not far behind them, she saw various ladies of the court accosting Daeron, though he did not seem too upset.

“I heard the prince has a dragon between his legs instead of a cock!” Lucas shouted.

“And I suppose your cousin has a rose betwixt her thighs?” Manfred Dondarrion replied.

“Aye, though her garden is closed to the likes of you!” Leona said.

The hall burst into laughter at that, and as Garth carried her towards the doors of the ballroom, a crowd of drunken men trailed them. A few tried to grab at her, but Garth stayed a few steps ahead of them. A chorus of disappointed groans erupted from the group. Elinor reached down and slid her slipper off before throwing it over Garth’s shoulder to the crowd. It was quickly followed by her other slipper and both of her stockings. The men seemed placated by that, and cheer went up once they had the silk in their hands.

The doors were thrown open and Garth stepped out into the halls of Maegor’s Holdfast. He paused then, and Valarr appeared.

“Need a guide?” he asked.

“Yes,” Elinor said, “Neither of us know where the bedchamber is.”

Valarr smiled, “Follow me.” He led them to the end of the hall and up a winding staircase. They followed him down another hall before stopping in front of an oak door. Valarr pushed it open and Garth carried her over the threshold into the bedchamber. In the center of the room was a large canopied bed, with red velvet curtains. There was a fire in the hearth, and moonlight streaming through the window.

“You can let me down now,” Elinor said. Garth set her down, and the stone floor was cold beneath her bare feet.

“If he hurts you…” Garth trailed off.

“He won't,” Elinor said.

“Daeron is a good man, despite his quirks,” Valarr said, clapping a hand on Garth’s shoulder, “Let's get back to the ballroom, you don't want to be here when it starts.”

Garth grimaced, “Right you are.” The two men walked back out into the hall, where the crowd had caught up with them.

Daeron was shoved, half naked into the bedchamber and the door was closed behind him. He was surprisingly well-muscled for a man who disliked riding and fighting. Toned was the best word, perhaps, though there was a softness to him as well.

She could hear muffled suggestions through the door as the guests wandered back to the ballroom. “Take her flower!” someone called, another voice shouted for Daeron to “Bloody your sword!”

“What happened to your doublet?” Elinor asked.

“The ladies of the court,” Daeron said, “Though they did not manage to undo my breeches.”

He looked her up and down, “How are you still clothed? I saw half a dozen men undressing you with their eyes during the feast.”

“They tried. Garth was faster,” Elinor shrugged.

“I’m surprised he brought you here and not back to the Maidenvault,” Daeron said.

“You are my husband, and these are your chambers. My place is here, with you,” she said.

“Are you so eager to be bedded?” Daeron asked, half teasing.

“Why wouldn't I be? You are handsome and kind, and you have promised that I have nothing to fear from you,” Elinor said.

“What did your mother tell you?” he asked.

“She explained the basics,” Elinor said, blushing slightly.

“I’ll be as gentle as I can be, but the first time is often painful for women, I'm told,” Daeron said.

“I’m told it can be pleasurable,” Elinor said.

Daeron smiled, “It is, in my experience.”

He took her hand, and pulled her to him. Elinor reached up to cup his cheek in her hand, and kissed him. She felt that same spark she had felt in the sept, and she ran her hands over his shoulders, feeling the muscle there. Daeron slid his hands around her back, and fumbled with the laces on her bodice before untying the knot that held them. He pulled the laces loose, and broke their kisses to watch her dress slide down her body. The fabric caught about her hips for a moment before pooling at her feet. Elinor pushed her smallclothes down, and stepped out of the dress.

“No chemise?” Daeron asked, eyes tracing her bare body.

“The cut of the dress wouldn't allow for it,” Elinor said.

“Lucky me,” he murmured. Elinor trailed her hands from his shoulders down over his stomach before coming to rest at the front of his breeches. She could feel him straining at the laces under her fingertips.

“Your turn,” she whispered. Elinor deftly undid his laces, and gently pushed his breeches down. He wore no smallclothes beneath them. Daeron stripped naked and took a step toward her. Elinor found herself glancing at his cock. It was large, she thought, though she had nothing to compare it to. She did not understand how Daeron could be gentle with it, but she trusted him to do his best.

“You’re staring,” he said.

“So are you,” she said, “And I have never seen a naked man before, but I am sure I am not the first woman you’ve seen unclothed.”

“You are the first highborn maiden,” he said, “My father says it will be different with you.”

“Why would it be different with me?” she asked.

“He said I would need to guide you, to prepare you, so I wouldn’t hurt you,” Daeron said.

“Prepare me how?” Elinor asked.

“You ask a lot of questions,” Daeron said.

“Wouldn’t you, if you were in my situation?” she said.

“I didn’t ask many questions when I first came face to face with a naked woman,” Daeron smiled, “I just wanted to touch her. To feel her skin on mine, to quiet my mind.” He reached out and took her hand again, “Come to bed with me, you will be more comfortable there.” He pulled her to the bed, and pulled back the covers for her. Elinor climbed in, the mattress was plush beneath her and the sheets were soft against her skin. Daeron slid in next to her. Elinor felt as though her heart might beat out of her chest, she was not afraid, but excited and nervous and aroused. Daeron was beautiful, and she wanted him, even though she did not know exactly what it was she wanted to do with him.

“Kiss me,” she said. Daeron smiled at her and pressed his mouth to hers. His lips were soft, and he tasted of the dry Arbor red he had been drinking all night. She felt his lips part against hers and his tongue flicking against her mouth. Elinor opened her mouth to let him in, and her tongue danced with his. Elinor pulled away to take a breath, feeling drunk, though she could not say if it was the wine or his mouth that did it.

“Can I touch you?” Daeron asked. Elinor nodded breathlessly. Daeron gently rolled her onto her back, and spread her legs. He knelt between her thighs, and ran his hands over them. His thumbs rubbed circles against her skin. He ran one hand up over her hip and her waist to gently cup her breast. The other trailed up towards the apex of her thighs, his fingers dragging through the wetness there. He fumbled for a moment, before his fingers found her pearl and began rubbing circles there, sending pleasure licking up her spine. She gasped, and fisted her hands in the sheets.

“Do you know what this is?” Daeron asked.

“Yes,” she nodded, “I am not completely unfamiliar with my own body.”

“Oh? I thought highborn maidens were discouraged from self-exploration?” he said, raising a brow.

“Perhaps in the Vale where maids are made of stone they follow that advice, but in the Reach we are made of summer sunlight,” Elinor smiled.

Daeron laughed at that, “So you are.” He moved the hand at her breast to her face, and ran his thumb over her lower lip, “You taste like sunshine too.” He tucked her hair behind her ear. He continued touching her, and a pleasant warmth began building in her lower belly. Daeron’s fingers felt better than hers ever had, it felt better with someone else. Daeron moved his hand, so his thumb was on her pearl and two of his fingers teased her entrance. Daeron paused, and looked at her with a question in his eyes. Elinor nodded. He began to push a finger into her, and then stopped.

“You still have your maidenhead?” he asked.

“Of course,” she replied.

“I do not mean to imply anything, only I know that some ladies lose their maidenhead in the saddle,” Daeron said.

“It is possible to avoid, with the proper saddle, riding clothes, and posture,” Elinor said. “Would it please you to hear that I kept it safe for you, my prince?” she teased. Daeron groaned. Elinor took that as a sign to continue. “It is true, in a sense. As my husband, my maidenhead belongs to you,” she said. Daeron kissed her again, and slid his finger past that barrier. It was an odd feeling, but not an unpleasant one. When she had adjusted, he added a second finger. Daeron began curling his fingers inside her, before using them to work her open. Elinor let out a moan, breathing heavily.

“That feels… incredible,” she said.

“You look incredible, trembling and moaning on my fingers,” Daeron said, his eyes darkened with desire, “Do you want more?”

“I want you inside me,” Elinor said, “Take me. Make me your wife.”

With one last twist, Daeron withdrew his fingers. He wrapped his hand around his cock, and began to stroke himself with her wetness. The head of his cock was red and leaking, and Elinor felt her mouth water looking at him. Daeron shifted, slotting his hips between her thighs and leaning over her so they were face to face, breathing each other's air. He teased her entrance with his tip, slicking himself in her wetness.

“This part will hurt a little, I think,” he said, “Are you ready?”

Elinor nodded, “Just, slowly, please.”

“Of course, anything you wish,” Daeron said. He eased into her, and kissed her. Elinor’s hands went to his shoulders, clinging to him. One of his hands was braced by her head, and the other returned to her pearl, gently stroking her. There was a slight resistance as he came upon her maidenhead and pressed through. Elinor gasped into his mouth, and Daeron moaned. There was a brief sharp pain, and then a sort of dull ache as Daeron took her maidenhead. The dull ache was quickly overtaken by that same warm feeling.

“Gods above, you're tight,” Daeron said in a low voice, “Are you alright?”

“I think so, it is a sweet pain,” Elinor said.

“I can make it feel good,” Daeron said as he rolled his hips into hers. Elinor let out a moan, and gripped his shoulders tighter. He filled her completely. I have been empty my whole life, and never knew it. He rolled his hips against hers again and again, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in her belly, until she snapped. Elinor felt herself squeezing around him, and her head went fuzzy. Daeron’s mouth fell open in a moan and she felt him spill himself inside her. Daeron’s cock twitched within her, as the last of his seed filled her. Daeron kissed her again, and pulled his softening cock from her. She spotted a small amount of blood on his cock as he rolled to lay next to her.

“I am a maiden no more,” she said.

“How do you feel?” Daeron asked.

“Sated, but strangely sad. I will never enter the sept on Maiden’s Day again. I might have appreciated it more this year if I knew it would be the last time,” Elinor said wistfully, “I suppose the Mother is my god now.”

“It seems an unfair bargain,” Daeron mused, “I have your maidenhead and I have given you nothing in return.”

“You gave me seven promises earlier, and you cloaked me in your colors,” Elinor said, turning her head so they were face to face, “My maiden’s blood is merely the seal on our marriage.”

“And besides,” Elinor continued, “I would rather you have it than some old, ugly, lecherous lord.”

“I am not old and ugly at least, though they could just as easily call me Daeron the Lecher as Daeron the Drunken, except that it isn’t as alliterative,” Daeron said.

“Why?”

“You remember I mentioned I had been forbidden from my favorite pastime?”

Elinor nodded.

“I frequent brothels, the whores on the Street of Silk know me well,” Daeron said.

“Do you intend to continue such activities?” Elinor asked carefully. She would rather he did not, but it was not her place to command him. Convincing, however, was well within her rights as a wife.

“My father says it is fine to dally when one is unwed, but it is disrespectful to one’s wife to keep a mistress or visit brothels,” he replied, “I like fucking, I will miss doing it as often as I used to.”

“I have no intention of keeping a cold bed, if that is something that worries you,” Elinor said, “How often are you used to?”

“Nearly every night,” he said.

Elinor’s eyes widened, “I think that might be a bit much for me.”

Daeron laughed, “I will not take you every night unless you ask for it.”

“Will it hurt less next time?” she asked.

“I do not know, I have never taken someone's maidenhead before,” Daeron said, “It must, otherwise the brothels would be out of business.”

“So I am a first for you as well?” Elinor said.

“I suppose you are.”

“So, no more whores, do you have any bastards I need to look out for?” Elinor asked.

“None that I know of,” Daeron said.

“I suppose that is good enough,” Elinor said.

“Good enough?” He raised a brow.

“I would rather you knew with certainty that you did not have any.”

“If any turn up, I will not ask you to raise them.”

“It is selfish of me, I know, but I want to be the only one to have your children,” Elinor said, “I want to be the only one in your bed. I do not want to share you.”

Daeron smiled, “You are… different than I expected.”

“What did you expect?” Elinor asked.

“I don't know, certainly not you. Your parents must be very proud, why they agreed to give you to me I have no idea,” Daeron said.

“Obviously there is the power and prestige that marrying a prince comes with, but my father said it was because he saw you at Ashford. He said he knew you would never hurt me,” Elinor said.

“I will never raise a hand to you, it is true, but I will inevitably disappoint you. I’ll embarrass you by getting drunk and acting like a fool.”

“You could always drink less, or perhaps not at all,” Elinor offered.

“I have never successfully cut back on my drinking, despite my father's efforts. And I cannot stop, I’ll go mad if I do,” he said. He said it with such certainty, and such sadness that Elinor could not help but wrap her arms around him. He looked slightly startled as she reached one hand up to stroke his hair. Daeron relaxed into her touch, and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“I am sure your father did his best, but you need a soft touch,” Elinor said, “We can figure something out together, I promise.”

“You are too good for me,” Daeron murmured.

They stayed like that for a long while, Daeron holding her and Elinor stroking his hair. She could not say how long it took to fall asleep, it had been an eventful day, and she had not slept well the night before. But she must have drifted off at some point, because she woke to her husband screaming.

She sat bolt upright in bed, and quickly realized she was still naked. She turned to him. Daeron was still asleep. She shook him, hard.

He jolted awake, “They're dying, they're all dying!”

“Daeron!” she said, “Nothing is wrong, we are safe, everyone is fine!”

He sat on the edge of the bed, head in his hands and breathing heavily, “For now, but I saw the pyres, I saw the silent sisters, I saw King’s Landing burn. Soon we’ll all die, the Stranger will carry us all away.”

“Daeron, it was just a nightmare,” she said, moving to kneel at his side and rub his back.

“No, it wasn't, my dreams come true,” he said, “They always come true, no matter how much I pray.”

“What are you talking about?” Elinor asked.

“Before the tourney, I dreamt of a dead dragon over the field, and then Uncle Baelor died. When my mother was pregnant with Rhae, I dreamt of a bleeding star, and then she died. They always come true,” he said, shaking under her hands.

Elinor knew she should say something, but she had no idea what. She was familiar with the concept of prophecy, that some people knew the future, but she had always believed those were people attempting to make a living in this world with theatrics. When she was little, a woods witch had read her and Garth’s fortune. She had told Garth he would become a great knight and bring glory to their house and she had told Elinor she would grow into a beautiful lady and marry a prince. Elinor had laughed at the time, assuming she said the same thing to all highborn boys and girls seeking to know their futures.

But she was right. Garth was nearly as skilled as their father, and had already distinguished himself in tourneys. She had never been ugly, though she’d gone through an awkward phase before she’d learned to tame the frizz in her hair and smile so her crooked teeth wouldn’t show, but she was truly beautiful now, everyone said so, even people who had no reason to lie. And here she sat, married to a prince. She felt slightly sick to her stomach. Lucky guess, she thought, if you tell everyone the same thing, it's no surprise when you're right eventually.

“Daeron,” she said softly, “Only the gods know for sure what is in store for us. It is not surprising that before a trial of seven and a birth you dreamed of death. It does not necessarily mean all your dreams will come to pass.”

“I wish that were true,” he sniffed.

She pulled his head to her shoulder, and gently stroked his hair.

“Is this why you drink so much?” she asked.

“Yes, it's the only thing that makes the dreams go away,” he nodded.

“Oh Daeron, I'm so sorry,” she said.

He curled tighter into her, “I wasn't going to tell you. I was sure you’d think I was mad.”

“I don't think you're mad,” she said.

“You don't believe me,” he said, shivering in her arms.

“I believe that you dream these things, and I believe that in hindsight, it seems like prophecy,” she said carefully.

He shrugged, “You’ll see, I wish you wouldn't but, you’ll see.”

“It’ll be alright,” she said. She wished she believed it.

Chapter Text

Elinor sat gingerly at the high table. Daeron sat to the left of the king, and Elinor sat to his left. Kiera smiled and leaned in to whisper to her.

“Sore?” Kiera said.

Elinor’s mouth twisted into a smirk before she wrestled it back into place.

“You are, aren't you?” Kiera teased.

“Oh, hush,” Elinor said.

“Take a hot bath later, that helps,” Kiera said, “And getting back in the saddle doesn't hurt either.”

Elinor shot her a look out of the corner of her eye.

Kiera shrugged, “What? The more you do it, the less it hurts and the better it is.”

“Any more advice?” Elinor asked.

“If he tries to taste you, let him,” Kiera said.

“Whatever do you mean?” Elinor asked. Kiera might have responded but the dishes were brought out then. There was bacon and fresh bread and fruit and all the other things one might expect at breakfast, as well as a Dornish dish of onions, cheese, eggs, and fiery looking peppers. Elinor knew enough to stay away from the last, and filled her plate with bread and berries. There was wine as well, and mead and fresh squeezed orange juice. Elinor reached for the orange juice, and Daeron reached for the wine. It was not unusual to have a cup of wine at breakfast, Father and Garth often did, as it was not always safe to drink water. But Daeron drained his cup before Elinor was even half finished with her breakfast, and had finished another by the time the plates were cleared away.

The first gifts were given to them by the King and Queen, a pair of brooches. Queen Myriah presented Elinor’s to her, a strange symbol wrought in a dark-grey metal with a rippled pattern to it. When Elinor lifted the brooch from its velvet box, she was startled by how light it was, as if it were carved of wood, not worked from metal. Daeron’s brooch was a different symbol, but made of the same material.

King Daeron smiled at them, “In Valyrian wedding ceremonies, the groom would paint the glyph for fire on his bride’s forehead, and the bride would paint the glyph for blood on her groom’s. They are an heirloom of sorts, almost certainly forged in Valyria before the Doom, though we have no record of their wearers.”

Valyrian steel. Elinor had only seen it a few times in her life. Once, when visiting her father’s cousins in Oldtown, Lord Quenton Hightower had shown her Vigilance, the longsword wielded by Lord Ormund Hightower during the Dance. On a visit to Horn Hill, Lord Tarly had shown them Heartsbane, a massive two-handed greatsword nearly as long as she was tall. Lord Tarly had boasted that Savage Sam Tarly had cut down dozens of Dornishmen during the Vulture Hunt over a hundred years ago.

Elinor smiled and thanked the King, and then Queen Myriah bestowed upon them two long, loose, layered robes in a vibrant red.

“Sandsilk,” she said, “Never forget, you are as much Dornish as you are Valyrian.”

Prince Maekar gifted them a cradle carved from oak, with carved dragons dancing around the sides.

“How subtle,” Elinor whispered to Daeron.

Prince Valarr and Kiera went next, giving them a book of plays by Ser William Stackspear.

“I know his comedies are a favorite of yours, lēkia,” Valarr said. Daeron smiled, and flipped through the pages.

“Thank you very much, valonqar,” Daeron replied.

“Many of his plays are quite good, they even perform some of them at the playhouses in Tyrosh. Though you can tell by how he writes them that he’s never been to the Free Cities,” Kiera said.

Prince Aerys and Lady Aelinor gave them a number of scrolls in High Valyrian, which Elinor could not read, and illuminated copies of The Seven-Pointed Star and The Book of Holy Prayer. After they had thanked them, Elinor whispered to Daeron, “Do you read High Valyrian?”

“I speak it better than I read it,” he said.

Prince Rhaegel and Lady Alys gave them two large birdcages and one smaller one, Prince Rhaegel’s smaller cage held a songbird, and Lady Alys’s larger ones held two magnificent falcons.

“Thank you very much, they’re beautiful birds,” Elinor said.

“Shame I’m not fond of hawking,” Daeron whispered.

“Still, the songbird was a nice touch,” Elinor said.

“And one only Uncle Rhaegel would think of,” Daeron said.

Mother and Father went next, unfurling a huge tapestry depicting Harlan Tyrell yielding Highgarden to Aegon the Conqueror. The two men clasped arms as equals, against the backdrop of the Reach. Her aunts and uncles heaped gifts upon them as well, a copper tub big enough for two from Uncle Garlan and Aunt Maris, plush matching chairs and a set of books from Aunt Bethany and Uncle Thaddeus, matching saddles and bridles from Uncle Morgan and Aunt Lya, matching cloakpins and a few casks of Arbor gold from Uncle Martyn and Aunt Meredyth, and gilded cups and jewels and furs from the various lords and ladies at court. Enough gifts that they would need extra carts for their journey to Summerhall.

Daeron had a gift for her too, producing a small velvet box from somewhere on his person.

“To compensate for the loss of your maidenhead,” he said.

She opened it, revealing a gold cuff with the faces of the Seven carved into gems. Elinor slid it on, and admired the way the gems caught the morning light.

“It's beautiful, how did you get it on such short notice?” Elinor asked.

“It belonged to Princess Rhaena, she left it behind when she became a septa. I thought you might like it,” Daeron said.

“I do,” Elinor said, kissing his cheek.

After breakfast, she went to the sept for morning prayers with all the members of court that felt like attending. The King and Queen came, as did Lady Jena, Prince Valarr and Kiera, and Prince Matarys. Prince Aerys excused himself and Prince Rhaegel merely wandered off in the direction of the gardens. Their wives did attend, as did Prince Aelor and Princess Aelora. Prince Maekar did not attend, though Daeron did. Elinor’s family came as well, or so she assumed, she couldn’t actually see them. She sat in the front of the sept now, with the rest of the royal family. She and Daeron were squished in between Kiera and Lady Alys Arryn. The septon said a special prayer for them before beginning his sermon, asking that the Mother Above bless them with a child. I suppose I should not be surprised, my womb is a matter of state now. The septon went on in that same droning voice, and Elinor noticed Daeron nod off more than once. She knew she should wake him, but he had not slept well after his nightmare last night, so she only nudged him if his head started to droop. When the septon finally finished his sermon, Elinor stood, and lit a candle for the Maiden, in thanks for all her years of protection. Then she joined the crowd of women at the feet of the Mother.

“Would you like to lay your hand on my belly? Some say it helps with fertility, though really we ought to have had a babe to put in your arms at the wedding feast,” Lady Alys said.

“If you do not mind,” Elinor said.

Lady Alys guided her hand to her belly.

“How far along are you?” Elinor asked.

“Around five moons, the babe has started kicking now,” Lady Alys said. As she spoke Elinor felt a little flutter.

“Oh! Was that it?” Elinor said.

“Yes, she always does that after I have a meal,” Lady Alys said.

“How do you know the babe is a girl?” Elinor said.

“Just a feeling, I suppose,” Lady Alys said, “You get a feel for these things once you’re a mother. Though it felt different with the twins.” Elinor caught Kiera looking at them sadly from her place at the Mother’s altar.

“Perhaps we ought to pray with Lady Aelinor and Kiera,” Elinor said.

“Oh! Of course,” Lady Alys said, as if she had forgotten they were in the middle of the sept. They knelt, and lit candles, and prayed for healthy children and easy births. When Elinor finished her prayer, she stood, and gently squeezed Kiera’s shoulder before moving to the god she needed the most. There were a few people beneath the statue of the Crone, most notably Prince Valarr. Elinor knelt, and lit a candle. Please, lift your golden lamp and show me the path forward. Bless me with the knowledge to help Daeron. Let me not falter, nor stumble. When she felt she could beg no more from the Crone, she stood, and made her way out of the sept and into the castle’s yard.

She crossed into the godswood. She needed to think, and the sept was full of people. She came upon the heart tree, and was surprised to see someone standing there. It was a tall, hooded man, with long white hair, dressed all in scarlet and smoke. He turned to her, and she knew at once who he was. Milk white skin, one red eye, and a wine colored birthmark on his right cheek. She had managed to chance upon Lord Brynden Rivers, more commonly called Bloodraven.

“Lady Elinor, I did not expect to have company,” Lord Rivers said.

“Nor did I,” she said, “I apologize if I am interrupting you, I only came looking for a quiet place to think.”

“You do not interrupt,” Lord Rivers said, “I am merely used to having my gods to myself.”

“I did not know you kept the old gods,” Elinor said.

“I do, as my mother did,” Lord Rivers said. He fixed his remaining eye on her.

“What was it you came here to think about?” Lord Rivers asked.

The hair on the back of her neck stood up, and Elinor suddenly felt uncomfortable, as if he could see right through her, into the very heart of her. He would know if she lied to him, Elinor realized.

“Daeron, he is troubled by his dreams,” Elinor said.

“Dreams?” Lord Rivers said sharply, “What dreams?”

“He dreamt of death, of pyres and silent sisters,” she said.

“Ah,” Lord Rivers said, “That is concerning.”

“Are you familiar with these dreams?” Elinor asked.

“Many in our line have dreamt of things yet to come, it is how our house escaped the Doom. Daenys’s dream saved us, and Aenar the Exile moved House Targaryen to Dragonstone twelve years before the fires of the Doom consumed Valyria,” Lord Rivers said.

“So what does this mean? Is what he saw going to happen?” Elinor said, seizing desperately upon Lord Rivers' explanation.

“It may, or it may not. Or it may not come to pass for many years, or it may not come to pass as he dreamed it. The interpretation of such dreams is tricky, more of an art than anything the maesters study at the Citadel. We are fortunate that Aenar and Daenys interpreted her dream correctly,” Lord Rivers said.

“What do I do? How do I help him?” Elinor asked.

“There is nothing you can do to prevent the dreams from coming. As for how you can help him, I have no idea. Each person is different,” Lord Rivers said.

“Thank you, Lord Rivers, for your counsel,” Elinor said.

“I am glad to be of help. If I didn’t know better, I would say it was strange that a follower of the new gods should seek solace in a godswood, but that was your habit at Highgarden. You would find peace and quiet beneath the Three Singers,” Lord Rivers said.

Elinor paled, “How- how could you know that?”

“A thousand eyes and one, Lady Elinor, a thousand eyes and one,” Lord Rivers smiled knowingly at her.

Elinor would have liked to have said that she faced the idea of being spied upon with bravery, that she retorted with some clever quip and got the last word. She did not. Instead, she curtsied with as much grace as she could muster, and fled.

As she exited the godswood, she ran into Daeron.

“Valarr said he saw you come this way, what were you doing in the godswood?” Daeron asked, catching her arms in his hands.

“I wanted a quiet place to think about your dream last night, but I ran into Lord Rivers,” Elinor said.

“Unsettling bastard, isn’t he?” Daeron said, “He’s only gotten worse since he lost that eye. But he’s loyal to my grandfather, so I doubt you have anything to fear from him.”

“He must have spies at Highgarden, he told me- well I suppose it doesn’t really matter what he said,” Elinor said, shaking her head.

“My father says he has spies in every castle in the Seven Kingdoms,” Daeron said, “Even Summerhall. What did he say to you?”

“He said he knew I would go to the godswood in Highgarden for peace and quiet. I don’t know how he could know that, the only people that came to the godswood were people I brought,” Elinor said.

“He’s good at ferreting out secrets, it’s uncanny. Certainly he knows everyone’s here,” Daeron said.

“Even yours?” Elinor asked.

“I don’t have many secrets. Except maybe the dreams, and even then Bloodraven could root that out easily if he wanted to,” Daeron shrugged.

“Oh,” Elinor said. Married less than a day, and already I’ve made a mistake. “Daeron, when he asked me why I went to the godswood, I told him the truth. I told him about your dream. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have.”

Daeron sighed, “If it were anyone but Bloodraven, I might be upset. Like as not, he already knew. Though in the future, please, keep my dreams to yourself, I don’t need any more pitying stares. It’s bad enough being known as a drunk, but at least that is of my choosing.”

“Who knows?” Elinor asked.

“My father, which means Baelor knew, and my grandfather does. I'm sure my father told Rhaegel, but whether he remembers is another matter. Aerion also knows, though he never wanted to hear them, and the hedge knight at Ashford, Ser Duncan. I wouldn’t have told him except I thought he was going to kill me, and he nearly did,” Daeron said.

“He tried to kill you? Why?” Elinor asked, brows furrowed.

“Well, I did lie and say he had kidnapped Egg. I could have gotten him killed. When Egg and I went to warn him that the Kingsguard were joining the trial, he put a knife to my throat. Not that I blame him, of course,” Daeron said.

“The gods are just, they would never have let an innocent man die,” Elinor said.

“Oh? Then why is my uncle dead? What was his crime?” Daeron said. Elinor opened her mouth and then closed it. What is wrong with me? Has my sense fled with my maidenhead?

“He was not on trial,” she said, lamely.

“Did Bloodraven say anything else? After you told him about my dream?” Daeron asked.

“He told me about Daenys and her dream. I’d heard it before of course, but I did not think it was real. The founding legends of all the houses are more myth than truth, I thought yours was the same,” Elinor said.

“Oh, that. I suppose her dream was real, though how she made sense of it, I have no idea,” Daeron said.

“I could help,” Elinor offered, “We could try and make sense of them together.”

“I do not wish to dwell on them,” Daeron said, “It is bad enough my nights are plagued by them, I will not ruin my days with them either.”

“There are some who might call such dreams a gift,” Elinor said carefully.

“Gift?” he scoffed, “Curse, more like.”

“Very well, I shall pry no more,” Elinor said. For now.

“It is not even mid day, how shall we pass the time before the feast tonight?” Elinor asked.

“Usually I am just waking up around now,” Daeron said, “I think there might be a small council meeting today.”

“Will you join them?” Elinor asked.

“Not if I can help it,” Daeron said.

“Perhaps we might keep Kiera company while Valarr attends,” Elinor offered.

“Trying to get me into a sewing circle, are you?” Daeron said teasingly.

“We could play tiles, or cards, if you’d prefer,” Elinor said.

“Cards, though it won’t be terribly fun with only three people,” Daeron said.

“I could get some of my cousins to play with us, though I warn you, any game with Leona and Rosamund at the table quickly devolves into a match between them,” Elinor said.

“They’ve never played with me,” Daeron said.

After gathering everyone up, they met in Kiera and Valarr’s solar. It was a cozy room, six plush chairs around a round table, and sunlight streaming in through pink drapes by the windows. Kiera had a musician playing, and had sent for various snacks, cheeses and berries and grapes. There was a floral tea, and wine as well, both red and gold, though Daeron made the servant who brought it bring up extra pitchers of red. Rosamund and Alys sat next to each other, as they always did, and Elinor was given a seat to Kiera’s right. There was a brief moment of awkwardness, when both Daeron and Leona went for the chair to Elinor’s right. Leona acquiesced quickly, and sat to Kiera’s left.

“Apologies, my prince, I am used to sitting at Elinor’s right when we play at Highgarden,” Leona said.

“No matter,” Daeron said, pouring himself a glass of wine.

“Does everyone know how to play one and thirty?” Rosamund asked, shuffling the deck.

Everyone nodded, though Alys rolled her eyes. “The rest of us may as well just quit now. Leona or Rosamund will win, they always do,” she complained.

“Daeron’s decent enough at cards, when he’s sober,” Kiera said.

“So all I have to do to beat him is get him drunk?” Rosamund raised a brow, “Elinor, be a good cousin and help me out.”

“No,” Elinor said, “And even if I did, that still wouldn’t help you with Leona.”

Rosamund dealt three cards and three pennies for each of them and then discarded and drew her first card. Elinor’s hand wasn’t too bad, a queen, a five, and a three. All different suits though, she held the queen of weirwoods, the five of bells, and the three of hearts.

“I hear there’s a version of bluff played in Flea Bottom where they bet items of clothing instead of money,” Rosamund said conspiratorially.

“Ridiculous,” Alys said, “What if you lost all your clothes?”

Kiera looked at Daeron and bit back a smile. Elinor whipped her head around at him.

“I’ve never lost all my clothes,” he said with a smile, “Just most of them. And they play it elsewhere in the city too. I once played a game at a tavern on the Street of the Sisters where a gold cloak came dressed in plate armor.”

“That seems like cheating,” Leona said.

“It was a very long game,” Daeron replied. As they chatted, play passed to Elinor. She discarded the three of hearts and picked up the ten of acorns. She frowned slightly.

“Bad luck, Elinor?” Leona asked.

“For now,” Elinor said. After Kiera took her turn, Rosamund spoke up again.

“So,” she drawled, “How was the bedding, cousin?”

Daeron nearly choked on his wine.

“It was… surprisingly pleasant,” Elinor said.

“Care to elaborate?” Kiera teased.

“As someone once told me, it is not a polite topic of conversation for highborn maidens,” Elinor said.

Daeron did laugh then, and Rosamund seemed to realize there were two other married people she could bully for details.

“All three of you know,” she said, pointing a finger accusingly across the table.

“Yes, but they are not going to tell you,” Leona said, rearranging her cards.

“Mother won’t tell me anything, not what it is, nor what it’s like,” Rosamund said.

“She says it’s not for proper young ladies to know, that men like an innocent bride,” Alys said.

“Innocent, maybe, but not clueless,” Daeron said.

“Oh? You would not have cared if Elinor wasn’t a maiden?” Leona asked.

“He’s half-Dornish, he would have taken her anyway,” Rosamund said.

“Rosamund!” Elinor scolded, “Don’t be so rude!”

“What? Everyone knows the Dornish have queer customs. I heard Jon Costayne say they do not care if a child is born a bastard, or if men lay with other men,” Rosamund shrugged.

“Jon Costayne is a hostage, to ensure his father’s good behavior. Most of what he says is rebel nonsense,” Leona said.

“Besides, you only listen to him because you think he’s pretty,” Alys said.

Rosamund smirked, “Maybe so.”

“Rosamund,” Elinor sighed, “Please tell me you haven’t been doing anything with Jon Costayne.”

“I kissed him once, that is all. I’m reckless, not stupid,” Rosamund said, “Besides, it’s not like I’m the only one to kiss one of Uncle Leo’s wards.”

“That’s not the same at all! Joffrey Caswell was not a hostage,” Elinor said.

“Uncle Leo might have married you to him, if he were lord of a better castle,” Leona said.

“Aye, Bitterbridge is no Summerhall, and Joffrey Caswell is no prince,” Alys laughed.

Elinor snuck a glance at Daeron. He was drinking his wine again, and did not seem perturbed by Rosamund’s comment, thank the Seven. Or if he was, he’d heard similar so many times it had lost its sting. To her left, Kiera did look troubled, though Elinor did not know her well enough to say why.

“Still, he wasn’t a bad first kiss,” Elinor said. She turned to Kiera then. “Was Valarr your first kiss? Or do they play kissing games in Tyrosh like they do here?”

Kiera smiled, “They do, but I never did. I was too nervous. My first kiss was Valarr, in the sept at our wedding.”

“How sweet,” Leona said, “Mine was Lucas, when last he visited Highgarden.” Elinor let out a little laugh in shock, and Leona smiled, “What? He isn’t my cousin.”

Alys said, “I’m sure it comes as no surprise to you that I have yet to be kissed.”

“Daeron?” Kiera prompted, “Who was your first kiss?”

Daeron swirled the wine in his cup, “Oh, it was a girl called Lysa Shawney. She was one of the hostages. I think she joined the Faith a few years ago.”

By then it was Daeron’s turn again, and after discarding and drawing a card, he laid his hand flat on the table. Daeron had the king of weirwoods, the knight of weirwoods, and the star of weirwoods. Everyone else showed their hand as well, though Daeron had the best one, totaling exactly to one and thirty, and all in the same suit. Leona and Rosamund both had two cards of the same suit, and totalled high enough to avoid losing one of their pennies. Alys had the lowest score this round, none of her cards were of the same suit and her highest card was an eight, and so she lost a penny. Elinor’s queen and Kiera’s knight saved them from the same fate. They played until it was time to ready themselves for the feast that night, and as predicted, it came down to Leona and Rosamund, though Daeron did well before the wine got the better of him.

The feast that night was their farewell feast, since they were to depart in the morning. Daeron had been drinking heavily all day, and was well in his cups by the time the servants began bringing out the food. They didn’t serve quite as many courses as they had at her wedding feast, another spring salad and vegetable soup, followed by roast venison and neeps with butter. Lastly, they brought out strawberry tarts. As she was finishing her dessert, she heard a thunk next to her.

“Pardon me,” she said to Kiera before turning to her other side. Daeron was laying with his head on the table. King Daeron was sitting on the other side of his grandson and smiled politely at her. She brushed Daeron's hair away from his forehead before leaning down to whisper in his ear.

“Are you alright?” she whispered.

He groaned.

Prince Maekar stalked over to them and grabbed his son by the collar before hauling him upright.

“Do not embarrass your lady wife in front of the court,” he whispered harshly.

“We are all still grieving, Maekar, there's no need to be so harsh on the boy,” King Daeron said.

Elinor cupped the side of Daeron’s face, “Have you a headache, my love? Perhaps we ought to go see the maester.”

Daeron kissed her palm, “My beautiful wife, my lovely rose…”

Kiera stifled a giggle next to her.

“The girl’s cunt must be good to have bewitched the boy so quickly, shame we didn't get to see it last night,” a voice called from one of the other tables.

King Daeron sighed, and Prince Maekar clenched his jaw so tightly she thought his teeth might shatter. She heard the scraping of a chair against the stone floor and footsteps and she turned her head just in time to see Garth punch Manfred Dondarrion across the face.

At her family's table, her father smiled into his goblet and her mother looked exasperated. Lucas and Desmond leaped to their feet to assist Garth, and Delena and Florence gasped in perfect affected ladylike shock. Rosamund smirked, Alys sighed, and Leona didn't even blink, merely continuing eating her dessert. Her brother drew back his fist to punch Ser Manfred again.

Prince Valarr leaned past his wife, “I must apologize for my uncle, he never learned when to hold his tongue.”

“There’s no need for you to apologize. He may finally learn, now that Garth’s got a hold of him,” she said.

Her mother nudged her father, and looked across the room pointedly. He smirked and took another long drink from his cup. Mother rolled her eyes, and stood. The high table watched with mild interest as Lady Joanna Tyrell waded through the crowd and grabbed her son’s arm. Garth paused and turned to look at Mother as she whispered something harshly to him.

Kiera leaned over and whispered, “What is she saying to him?”

Elinor leaned back, “She's probably telling him that he's not too old for her to grab him by the ear and drag him out of this hall.”

Kiera giggled again. Mother and Garth came up to the high table.

Garth bowed deeply to the King, “My deepest apologies, Your Grace, I did not mean to cause a scene in your halls, only to defend my sister's honor.”

“No apology is needed, young man, though I would request you settle any further grievances in the training yard, or perhaps on a tourney field,” King Daeron said.

“Oh I will,” Garth said darkly, before Mother ushered him back to the Tyrell table.

She looked at Ser Manfred. He was holding one of his eyes, it would surely be blackened in the morning. He looked bewildered, as if he didn't understand what he had done to incur Garth’s wrath.

She turned back to Daeron, who was now rubbing his cheek into her palm and cradling her hand. She blinked at him.

“Ah, perhaps we ought to turn in for the evening,” she said, “We set out tomorrow morning, and we shall need our rest.”

“Not a bad idea,” Prince Maekar said.

She stood, and Daeron stood with her, wrapping an arm around her waist. They bid goodnight to Kiera and Valarr, King Daeron and Queen Myriah, and Prince Aerys and Lady Aelinor. Elinor and Daeron stopped by the Tyrell table, and said goodnight to her family. Her father still looked very smug as he bid her goodnight. Mother told her to rest well. Garth still looked as though he wanted to wallop Manfred Dondarrion, and was only halfway paying attention when he said goodnight to them.

After they exited the hall, Prince Maekar caught up to them and slung his son’s arm over his shoulder.

“Thank you,” she said.

“You’ve done well so far, but carrying my son to bed is probably beyond you,” Prince Maekar said.

“Yes, I’d have to enlist my brother,” Elinor said.

Daeron rested his head against his father’s shoulder, and mumbled something that sounded vaguely like a protest.

“I know you can walk, the problem is that you won’t go where you are supposed to. You and Rhaegel, always wandering off,” Prince Maekar grumbled. Elinor stifled a giggle. Evidently this was not uncommon.They came to Daeron’s bechambers, her bedchambers now. Prince Maekar nodded to the door, and Elinor opened it. Prince Maekar deposited his son in bed. Daeron lay flat on the mattress. Prince Maekar went to remove his son’s boots when Elinor stopped him.

“I can do it, he’s my husband,” Elinor said.

Prince Maekar nodded, and went to leave.

“Wait, Prince Maekar, would you ask the maester to send some dreamwine for him? Daeron had a terrible nightmare last night,” Elinor asked.

“The dreams again?” Prince Maekar asked.

Elinor nodded.

“They’ve plagued him since he was a boy, I’d hoped he had grown out of it,” Prince Maekar shook his head, “I’ll have the dreamwine sent. And you are my good daughter now, you do not need to call me ‘Prince’. Maekar will suffice.” He took his leave then.

Elinor tugged Daeron’s boots off his feet, and then undid the laces on her dress. She changed into her nightgown and then sat next to Daeron on the bed.

“I’ve sent for some dreamwine, hopefully that will help tonight,” she said.

“Dreamwine helps, drinking helps more, and sweetsleep is best,” he mumbled. Before she could tell him that sweetsleep was very dangerous, deadly in most cases, he shook his head.

“Wait, no, don't want dreamwine, want you instead,” he said.

“Once the dreamwine gets here you can have me, then you'll drink the dreamwine and sleep peacefully,” she said.

“Mm, but why wait for the maester when I could have you now?” Daeron said.

“Because I don't want the maester to see us having sex- oh!”

He pounced on her while she was finishing her sentence. He flipped her onto her back and pulled her nightgown down to expose her breasts.

“I’ll stop when the maester knocks, just please let me play with these until he gets here,” Daeron said, looking up at her with huge, violet eyes.

“You get needy when you're drunk,” she observed.

Daeron nodded, eyes still huge.

“Go on then, take what you need,” Elinor said. He smiled at her and ducked his head down. He took a breast in each hand and ran his thumbs over her nipples, sending a shiver down her spine. When her nipples were hard, he attached his mouth to one. She gasped, and he began licking and sucking at her.

“Oh! That feels good, Daeron,” she cried out.

“You smell like roses,” he groaned.

“I know it is unoriginal, but it reminds me of home,” Elinor said.

One of his hands grabbed her knee, pulling it up and over his hip. He pressed his hips into hers and ground them into her. He switched his mouth to her other breast, suckling at her. She moaned and bucked her hips against his. She was about to open her mouth and ask him, more like beg him, to touch her, when there came a knock at the door. Daeron pushed himself off her body, “Damn him, and damn you for asking for the dreamwine.”

“Pardon me for thinking of your well being,” Elinor said. She pulled her nightgown up over her chest, and smoothed her curls down, hoping she looked decent. Daeron strode to the door doing nothing to hide his erection. Daeron opened the door, and Grand Maester Malleon stood on the other side, holding a goblet.

“Prince Maekar said you required dreamwine, Prince Daeron, my apologies for interrupting,” Malleon said, noting her appearance. Damn him indeed.

“Thank you for the wine, now please leave, I must get back to my wife,” Daeron said, taking the goblet.

Malleon bowed, and closed the door as he left. Daeron downed the wine in one gulp and put the empty goblet on the bedside table.

“Daeron, you might as well have just told him to leave so you could take me!” Elinor said, laughing.

“Perhaps I will next time,” Daeron said. He pushed her to lay back on the bed again, and spread her legs. She was sure he was going to take her as he did last night, when he flipped her skirt up and ran his hands up her thighs. He ducked his head between her legs.

“Daeron, what are you -oh!”

Daeron had begun kissing her cunt.

“My sweet wife, there is so much I have to show you,” he said between kisses. Then he began licking her, and her mind went blank. This must be what Kiera meant. She looked down, when her mind had returned to her, and saw Daeron burying his face in her cunt. His eyes were closed in bliss, and his hands had wrapped around her thighs, holding her in place. The entire lower half of his face was wet with her, and when she tangled a hand in his hair, he moaned. He found the spot he had paid so much attention to the night before and began circling his tongue around it. Elinor gasped and arched her back off the bed, bucking her hips into his face. He moaned and gripped her tighter.

“Oh gods, Daeron, your mouth feels so good,” she moaned.

Daeron whined into her cunt, and began flicking his tongue over her pearl. She heard herself moaning and making all sorts of unholy noises. She felt that familiar heat rising in her belly, and soon she was writhing beneath Daeron’s mouth as she found her peak. Daeron licked her through it and once she had come back to herself, she had to pull his head away from her cunt.

He pouted at her, “I wasn't done!”

“Too much, far too much,” Elinor panted.

He gave her one last lick, which sent a spasm through her. He sat up on his knees and undid his breeches. His cock was hard and weeping. He stroked it once.

“Gods, I’m close,” he moaned.

Elinor frowned, “But you haven't been inside me yet?”

“I was rutting into the mattress,” he said sheepishly.

She reached out to touch him, running a finger over the tip. His cock jumped under her touch and he groaned.

“Elinor, please, you could make me finish just like that,” he said.

“It will be hard to get me with child if you spill your seed on the mattress,” Elinor said.

“Tell me what to do,” he begged, “Tell me what you want.”

A rush of heat went to her center. They barely knew each other and already he spoke to her so intimately.

“I want your cock inside me, I want you to spill your seed in me, I want a baby, I want your baby,” she said, words spilling out of her like an undammed river.

He sheathed himself in her with one thrust, “I’ll give you a baby,” he said into her shoulder, “I promise, I promise I will.”

A few thrusts later and he was spilling inside her. He slipped from her and pulled a pillow under her hips.

“Valarr told me this helps with conception,” Daeron said. He laid his head on her stomach, and Elinor began running her fingers through his hair. She blinked, and felt as though she had splashed cold water over her face.

“You’ll have to forgive me,” she said, “I'm not sure why I said those things about wanting you inside me, it wasn't very ladylike.”

“I do not mind, I quite liked it,” Daeron said. He began tracing his fingers over her womb.

“The day my father told me I was to marry you, I dreamt of a nest of dragons in a rose bush,” Daeron said.

“What do you think that means?” she asked.

“I think they were our children, though I hope they take after you, I don't want any of our children to suffer like I have,” Daeron said.

“If they have the dreams as well, we’ll figure something out,” Elinor said.

They rose early the next morning and the royal family and the Tyrell contingent all piled into wheelhouses after breakfast and morning prayers. They said their goodbyes to the royal family in the harbor, while Elinor’s family was being ferried across the Blackwater. The Tyrells would accompany them south until the roseroad diverged from the kingsroad. Prince Rhaegel and Lady Alys Arryn were departing as well, sailing for the Vale with their children to spend some time in the Eyrie with Lady Alys’s family before Lady Alys had to enter her confinement.

King Daeron bid goodbye to Prince Rhaegel first, hugging him and the twins before kissing Lady Alys on the cheek. Queen Myriah did the same, although she hugged her good daughter as well. Valarr and Kiera also said their goodbyes before Lady Alys and her children boarded the ship that would take them to Gulltown. Elinor decided to follow Daeron’s lead, and waited for some indication of how to bid his uncle’s family goodbye. None came. Daeron just fiddled with the edge of his cloak. Elinor grabbed his other hand with hers and squeezed it gently, before inclining her head to his aunt and cousins, who were already halfway up the gangplank.

Daeron dropped his cloak, and waved to his cousins. Elinor did the same, and nodded to Lady Alys, who gave her a little smile as she ushered her children onto the deck.

Then Prince Rhaegel pulled Prince Maekar into a hug, and the Anvil stiffened, before wrapping his arms around his older brother. Rhaegel whispered something in Maekar’s ear, and smiled dreamily at him when they parted. Maekar looked slightly defeated.

Rhaegel turned to them next, “Be happy. Enjoy the first days when love takes root. And don't worry too much about Maekar, he’ll feel better when Baelor gets back.” Rhaegel hugged them both, and then took Lady Alys’s hand and disappeared somewhere into the bustle of the ship departing.

“He has good days and bad days,” Daeron said, “We stopped trying to tell him Baelor was dead weeks ago. If he doesn't remember, he just won't believe it. He seems happy enough though. If I ever go mad I hope it's like that.”

Queen Myriah approached them first, "Farewell, Lady Elinor.”

Elinor curtsied as best she could while holding Daeron’s hand, “Thank you for the hospitality you have shown my family and myself, you are a most gracious host.”

Queen Myriah smiled softly, “There's no need to curtsy to me, you are married to my grandson.”

“You are still the Queen,” Elinor said.

“Whoever taught you your manners did an exemplary job,” Queen Myriah remarked. She turned her attention to Daeron now.

“My first grandchild,” she said, tucking his hair behind his ear, “We were so happy when you were born. I wish your wedding was as happy an occasion. I wish your mother could have been here to see you get married. I wish for a lot of things in my old age. I love you, give your sisters my love and tell them that I miss them very much.” Queen Myriah stood on her toes, and pulled Daeron’s head down to press a kiss to his forehead.

“I love you too, Grandmother,” he said.

Queen Myriah looked at Prince Maekar.

“Mother,” he started. She turned away, and climbed back into the royal wheelhouse, brow furrowed and jaw clenched.

“She just needs time,” King Daeron said to his son, “She loves you, she's just in pain right now.”

Prince Maekar clenched his fist and nodded.

King Daeron hugged his son close, “I love you, and nothing you have done or could ever do would change that. Take some time at Summerhall, perhaps until the year ends, and then come back to us.”

Maekar awkwardly returned his father's hug.

King Daeron turned to them, and before Elinor could curtsy, Daeron had dropped her hand and wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her in place against his side.

“When your grandmother and I wed, we were strangers. Not dissimilar to the two of you now, but we fell in love all the same. Take time to get to know one another away from the prying eyes of court, and it can be the same for you. I hope to see you both on my nameday at year’s end,” the King said, before embracing them both.

“What does one get a King for his nameday?” Elinor murmured to Daeron as his grandsire turned back to the wheelhouse.

“An heir for Summerhall would not be amiss,” Prince Maekar said.

“But then what would I get you for your nameday?” Elinor said, smiling.

Maekar just looked at her.

“Perhaps twins,” Daeron said, “They do run in the family.”

Valarr and Kiera approached them next.

“Enjoy Summerhall, it's beautiful there in the spring,” Valarr said, “Hopefully my uncle doesn't make any more trouble for you on the road.”

“Promise you’ll write, it's been so long since I had a friend my own age,” Kiera said.

“Of course I’ll write, as soon as we get settled in the castle,” Elinor said.

“Oh gods, it's the four of us now, isn't it? When people talk about the future of the realm, they'll talk about us,” Daeron groaned.

“Best think about which small council seat you want now, it'll take you the next ten or so years to prepare,” Kiera teased.

“Don't worry cousin, I won't ask you to be my Hand,” Valarr reassured, “That burden is one Matarys shall have to bear. Fortunately Grandfather is still quite healthy, and may live as long as the Conciliator did.”

“They made Princess Elaena’s husband master of coin, right? So she could carry out his duties?” Daeron said, “We’ll do that, just pick something Elinor is good at.”

“Not master of coin, I’ve no great head for sums. Laws I could do, or perhaps ships if no one better could be found,” Elinor said.

Daeron looked at her quizzically.

“I received the same education as Garth,” Elinor said.

“Ah, I see,” Valarr said, “You were brought up as your father's spare, prepared to be a ruling lady, just in case.”

“Exactly,” Elinor said.

“That explains laws, why ships? So far as I know Highgarden is not famed for seafaring,” Kiera said.

“But Oldtown and Lannisport are, my father's cousin is Lord Lyonel Hightower, Lord of Oldtown and my mother's cousin is Lord Tybolt Lannister, Lord of Lannisport. Both have great fleets at their disposal,” Elinor said.

“Ships remains Velaryon’s I’m afraid, it's tradition,” Valarr said.

“Very well, laws will suit well enough,” Elinor said.

“I don't think the realm is quite ready for women to hold their own seats on the council, but everyone was happy enough to let Princess Elaena do the work while Lord Ronnel Penrose took the credit,” Valarr said.

“Mayhaps when our son is king things will be different,” Kiera said.

Valarr brushed a thumb over her hand, “I hope so.” They shared a smile, sad and sweet and full of hope. Elinor felt as though she was intruding on a private moment. She slid her hand up Daeron’s back, under his cloak. He looked down at her, and she smiled up at him. For a moment they just looked into each other's eyes, and she was certain he was going to kiss her, when the ferry returned. Prince Maekar’s wheelhouse was rolled onto it, horses whinnying, and it was time to go.

Kiera hugged her, “Perhaps next time we meet, we’ll have matching bellies.”

Elinor smiled, “That would be nice.”

Valarr and Daeron said their goodbyes, speaking in that ancient tongue that Elinor could not understand. Valarr went to kiss her hand, and Elinor pulled him into a hug instead.

“Be good to him, please,” Valarr said.

“Look after yourself, while you're looking out for everyone else,” Elinor said.

Valarr’s mouth twisted into a brief smile, and then he moved on, to bid goodbye to Prince Maekar.

“He’ll be alright,” Daeron said, “He’ll grieve in private, once we’re all gone, and then he’ll be alright.”

“I hope you're right,” Kiera said, she kissed Daeron’s cheek and then followed her husband into the royal wheelhouse.

Prince Maekar beckoned them onto the ferry, “It's a long road to Summerhall.”

“What is it like there?” Elinor asked, gathering her skirts up as she crossed the gangplank onto the ferry.

“Quiet and peaceful,” Daeron said.

“It sounds lovely,” she replied.

They stood leaning on the railing of the ferry, Daeron’s hand brushing against hers. She looped her fingers in his, and when their eyes met again, she kissed him. Her heart fluttered in her chest when their lips met.

“You are so happy,” Daeron said when they parted.

“Should I not be?” Elinor said.

“I’m sure I’ll ruin that too,” Daeron murmured.

Elinor rested her head on his shoulder and watched the bustling harbor recede, as the ferry moved across the river. A ship pulled past them, making for the spot left open by Prince Rhaegel’s departure. It bore the Hightower of Oldtown, and as the sailors heaved the ship to dock, Elinor heard a wet, hacking cough from the deck of the ship.

Chapter Text

A day south of King’s Landing, the roseroad split off from the kingsroad. Her family would follow the roseroad west to Highgarden, with the Oakhearts continuing on the ocean road back to Old Oak. Elinor bid goodbye to her Oakheart relations first, and then kissed Rosamund and Alys on the cheeks. She gave Ryam a hug as well, and her Uncle Garlan and Aunt Maris. Elinor did tear up a bit when hugging Leona.

“I’ll miss you,” she said.

“Don’t forget to write, I know you’ll be busy, but don’t forget your favorite cousin,” Leona said.

Aunt Bethany tapped Elinor’s chin with her fan, “Chin up girl, you’ve a castle waiting for you.”

Elinor smiled. No doubt when mother promises to bring our best relatives, she means Aunt Bethany and Leona.

With the rest of her relatives packed up in wheelhouses and mounted on horses, Elinor turned to her family. Mother and Father and Garth all stood proud in green and gold. Mother and Father wrapped their arms around her.

“Do not forget,” Father said as he cupped her face, “You are the blood of kings as well, kings and heroes. You are the blood of King Uthor of the High Tower, and Maris the Maid, of Garth Greenhand, of John the Oak, and of Lann the Clever, who stole gold from the sun to brighten his hair.”

“You are the blood of the Andals, who crossed the sea and brought the Faith, the Common Tongue, and knighthood to these lands, and the First Men, who drove out the giants and far worse besides,” Mother said, “My darling girl.”

Elinor buried her face between her parents’ shoulders, “I don’t want to go, or rather, I do not want to leave you.”

“I know,” Mother said, “I was just as scared and sad when I left Old Oak. But Highgarden became my home, in time. Summerhall will be the same for you. And it is not so far from Summerhall to Highgarden, only a few weeks.”

“You can visit whenever you like,” Father said, “You need only tell us when you are coming.”

Her parents released her. She turned to Garth, and her brother lifted her into his arms.

“You are just as good as any of that lot,” he said fiercely, “Do not let any of those spoiled princes and princesses make you feel less than. You are still one of us, still a Tyrell.”

He set her down, and they all exchanged ‘I love yous’ before they parted. Elinor furtively wiped away tears, before turning back to where Septa Tansy waited. Her childhood septa was all she had left of home. Septa Tansy might not seem much, compared to Highgarden, but she drew Elinor into a hug, a warm smile on her lightly lined face.

“You are not the first young woman to leave home, and you are stronger than many highborn maidens,” Septa Tansy said.

“I am a wife now,” Elinor said, almost reflexively.

“So you are, and you will always have a piece of Highgarden in your heart,” Septa Tansy said.

“And near my heart,” Elinor said, touching the locket her mother had given her.

Septa Tansy helped her back into Prince Maekar’s wheelhouse, and with a signal to the driver, they rattled south down the kingsroad.

After the travelling for the day was done, they stopped for dinner at an inn on the Kingsroad. While they were eating Manfred Dondarrion approached her, and gave a sort of half hearted bow.

“Apologies my lady, I did not know my jape would so incense your brother. I did not mean to besmirch your honor, everyone knows you were a maiden when you went to your wedding bed, we all saw the bloody sheet the next morning,” he said.

“If there were any injury to me, I believe my brother has more than made up for it,” Elinor said, putting on her best smile.

“He’s got a fucking arm on him,” Manfred said, gingerly touching his eye.

“Very well, you've made your apologies,” Maekar said, dismissing him with a wave.

“May the Mother smile on you both, though I doubt she needs to, I hear maidens are especially fruitful in the Reach and we all know of your father's virility. No doubt your seed is the same, and will bloom in your wife’s fertile womb before long,” Manfred said to Daeron. He bowed again, and wandered back to his table, and his whores.

Elinor cringed, “He almost made a decent apology too, shame he ruined it at the end.”

“How the fuck does Manfred Dondarrion know what our bedsheet looked like?” Daeron said.

“Some fucking stableboys took it off a launderess and ran with it through the Red Keep. Word would have spread anyway, servants love to gossip, but the visual proof was unnecessary,” Maekar said. Elinor grimaced, deeply uncomfortable at the idea of her maiden’s blood being paraded around court.

“How long will Manfred Dondarrion be traveling with us?” Elinor asked, doing her best to sound casual.

“He’ll be with us til Storm’s End at least, he’ll probably linger there longer than we do, he and Baratheon are good friends. He’ll likely stop at Summerhall for a few nights on his way back to Blackhaven,” Daeron said.

“Fucking disgraceful that he behaves that way, he’ll be lord of Blackhaven and a king’s uncle someday,” Maekar grumbled.

Elinor resisted the urge to tease Maekar by asking if he was upset to share Valarr with Manfred.

That night, when they lay down in their rented room, Elinor had something very important to ask Daeron.

“Do you remember the night after our wedding? What you did to me?” Elinor asked.

“Hm, let me think, yes, I remember licking your sweet cunt until you finished on my face, why do you ask?” Daeron teased.

“Is that- Is that something I can do to you?” Elinor asked, blushing.

“You can use your mouth on me, I just didn't think you would want to,” Daeron said.

“You seem to enjoy using your mouth on me.”

“I'm strange that way, most men do not do that to their ladies, or so I’m told.”

“Then how did you learn?”

“There is a brothel on the Street of Silk, where they’ll have two whores fuck on a stage so men can watch. That's where I saw it the first time, then I paid one of the whores there to teach me how.”

“She must have been a very good teacher.”

“She was, and I was a very eager student.”

“Can you teach me?”

“You want to learn to make a woman finish with your mouth?” Daeron asked playfully.

“Daeron! Why must you tease me so?” Elinor said.

“Because you look so pretty when your cheeks turn red like that,” he said, poking her cheek.

“I’m serious, will you please teach me to use my mouth on you?” Elinor asked, bringing her hands up to cover her cheeks.

“Since you asked so nicely, yes sweet wife, I’ll teach you to suck my cock. Though I’ll say again, you might not like it, few women do. Some whores charge even more for that than they do for sex,” Daeron said.

Elinor felt her cheeks might burn off her face, though she couldn't deny that when he spoke like that it stirred something in her. Daeron pulled his smallclothes off, and sat on the edge of the bed, cock half hard. He pulled one of the pillows off the bed, and put it on the floor between his legs.

“Kneel there,” he said. Elinor did, smoothing her nightgown over her thighs. She’d never been so close to Daeron’s manhood before. It was nearly as intimidating as it had been on her wedding night, assuaged only slightly by the fact that she knew it would fit inside her. She rested her hands on his thighs, and looked up at him. His cock twitched when she did and he groaned.

“Seven Above, you already look sinful,” he said.

“How do I- What do I do first?” she asked.

“Touch me, you've seen me stroke myself, start with that.”

Elinor tentatively ran her hands up his thighs, as he had done to her a few nights ago. There was a bit of light brown hair dusting the base of his cock and lower stomach, which Elinor had not noted before, likely because her face was only inches away now, whereas Daeron’s pelvis had remained thoroughly between her thighs for most of their lovemaking, except for when his face was there. Elinor wrapped her hand around the base of him, and slowly stroked him, like he said.

“Tighter,” he said, “Tighter and faster, please.”

“Won't that hurt?” she asked.

“Only if you squeeze too hard, and move your hand too fast.”

Elinor tightened her grip, and stroked him a little faster, carefully studying his face, trying to figure out what he liked. Daeron leaned back on his hands, and made eye contact with her. His pupils were blown wide, and she felt him stiffen as she stroked him. He reached down and moved her left hand to his balls.

“Gentle with these, unless you no longer want me to spill my seed in you,” Daeron said. Elinor gingerly cupped them, and ran her thumb gently over the skin there. Daeron shivered under her, and his cock jumped again.

“You could finish me like this, if you wanted, just keep stroking me, and pay extra attention to the tip. That's where I’m most sensitive,” Daeron said. Elinor tightened her hand slightly when she stroked over the tip, and Daeron bucked his hips into her hand. Elinor shifted her hips, and felt warmth flood her nether regions. She was sure that if she were to snake a hand between her legs, she would find herself wet, just from watching Daeron’s face.

“You said you’d teach me to use my mouth on you, so far all you’ve done is teach me how you like to be stroked,” Elinor said.

“You’ll find that useful, when I’m too drunk to move without the world spinning, you can stroke me until I’m hard enough for you to use,” Daeron said. Elinor wasn't entirely sure what he meant by using him, but it sounded obscene.

“Alright, I really will finish like this if you keep going,” Daeron said. Elinor pulled her hands from him, and rested them back on his thighs. Daeron reached a hand down and cupped her head, bringing her closer to him, so her warm breath brushed over his fully hard cock. Elinor’s tongue darted out to wet her lips, and Daeron’s mouth parted.

“What now?” she whispered.

“Your tongue,” Daeron breathed, “You can lick me just about anywhere.”

Elinor cautiously ran her tongue over his tip, and Daeron gasped. He tasted slightly salty, but not unpleasant.

“Good, like that,” he gasped. She licked over him again and again, starting lower on his cock every time, until she was licking a stripe up the underside of his cock. She watched his breath hitch as she licked his tip again, more sure this time.

“I want to feel your mouth around me,” Daeron panted.

“How? How do I…” Elinor asked.

“Open your mouth, wider than that,” he said, guiding his tip between her lips. Elinor let him rest on her tongue, heavy and hard.

“Close your lips and suck, and be careful with your teeth please,” Daeron said. Elinor did, taking him slightly further into her mouth. “Gods your mouth feels good, just as warm and wet as your cunt,” he moaned, hand stroking her hair, “Work your way down, slowly, don't want you to choke.”

Elinor’s stomach flipped at his words, and she ground down against nothing as a moan escaped her throat. Daeron noticed.

“Touch yourself for me, please,” he said. Elinor nodded as best she could, and wound a hand between her legs to rub at her pearl. She bobbed her head over his tip, and Daeron bucked his hips into her mouth.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn't mean to- unh!”

Elinor cut him off by sucking him deeper than she had before, working her way down his shaft as she did. When he hit the back of her throat, she gagged, and Daeron twitched in her mouth before he pulled her head off him. Her fingers stilled beneath her as she caught her breath.

“That’s why I said to go slowly, are you okay?” he said.

“I think so,” she rasped, “Did you… like that? I felt you, uh, twitch.”

“I mean, yes and no? It felt good I guess, but you looked scared and hurt. I’ve never seen the appeal of hurting someone during sex. Unlike some people I could name…” Daeron trailed off.

Elinor looked at him in confusion.

Daeron shook his head, “Don't worry about it, it's in the past. You were doing well though, you looked so pretty sucking me while you touched yourself. Will you take your nightgown off? I want to see you naked.”

Elinor nodded, and pulled her nightgown off over her head. I’ll ask him more about what he said later, maybe when he's drunk. Daeron smiled down at her.

“I still have no idea why your father gave you to me, you're so pretty and so sweet. Surely there were better options,” Daeron said, running a thumb over her cheek.

“I'm glad he did, I'm quite happy where I am,” Elinor smiled, tracing circles over his thighs.

“You’d find a way to be happy anywhere, they could have married you to Aegon the Unworthy, fat, bloated, and rotting and you would have found a way to be happy,” Daeron said.

“Don't be so gross while I'm naked at your feet,” Elinor frowned, “It puts me off.”

Daeron laughed and gently bounced his finger off the tip of her nose. “It's hard to take you seriously like this, you do look adorable,” he said.

Elinor grinned up at him, “Oh? Do go on.”

He opened his mouth to sing her praises, and Elinor wrapped her lips around him again. Whatever compliments he was going to shower on her died in a choked gasp as his hand tangled in her hair again.

“Don't choke yourself again,” he said in a strangled tone, “Use your other hand for what won't fit.” Elinor hummed, and brought her left hand up to wrap around the base of his cock. It was much easier to suck him like this, lips meeting her fingers when she bobbed her head. She resumed rubbing her pearl with her right hand, and she was so slick she was sure there would be a wet spot on the pillow when she stood.

Lost in the feelings, in the sensation of Daeron’s cock in her mouth, in his hand in her hair, in the pleasure building in her belly, Elinor’s teeth grazed Daeron’s tip.

He let out a hiss, “Careful, dear wife.”

Elinor drew her head back, “Sorry.” She pressed a kiss over the spot she had skimmed before taking him back into her mouth. She swirled her tongue around the tip this time, licking up a salty substance, and watched as Daeron’s mouth fell open and his head tipped back. She smiled, and continued her ministrations, though her knees began feeling stiff and her jaw began to ache.

“Fuck, I'm close,” Daeron moved his hand to cup her jaw, and gently moved her off him. “My lovely rose, I don't think you want me to spill my seed in your mouth.”

She shook her head, “And waste it? No, I can think of a better place for it.”

“You talk as if my seed is some precious thing, as if there is not an inexhaustible supply of it,” Daeron smiled at her.

“Every drop is a child that might be,” Elinor said, “So every drop must be inside me, where it might take root.”

Daeron pulled her from her knees and into his arms, rolling them onto the bed. He kissed her, jaw working against hers as she tried to break away from his mouth.

“I just had you in my mouth, surely you’d like me to rinse first,” she said, when she did manage to pull away from his lips.

“I don't care,” he said, “I want you, and I think you'll let me have you.”

Elinor giggled, “My prince can have me whenever he likes, so long as he’s gentle with me.” Daeron grinned, and kissed her again. He had her flat on her back, and spread her thighs open for him. Elinor rested her hands against the back of his neck.

“Look at you, dripping for me,” he said softly. Daeron ran his fingers over her slit, and up to her pearl, a few quick strokes made sure she was ready, and then he slid himself inside her. Daeron groaned into her shoulder, and buried his face in the crook of her neck. He wrapped his arms around her waist and began thrusting into her. Elinor wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him in deeper. They clung to each other as Daeron plunged into her, moaning and gasping in each other's ears. He rubbed over her pearl with every slow, lazy thrust, and Elinor shuddered underneath him as she found her peak. Daeron moved to bury his face in her tits as he thrust sloppily into her. Elinor moved one hand to stroke through his messy blonde hair, and the other rubbed circles on the back of his neck.

Daeron spilled in her, warm and thick with a muffled moan. He lay there for a time, face in her breasts and cock softening inside her as she held him. They rolled to their sides, and slept tangled in each other.

They shared a bed often on their journey south, when there was an inn or a castle to stay in. When there wasn't, she and Septa Tansy slept in the wheelhouse, and Daeron and Maekar slept in a tent. She much preferred sleeping next to him, naked against him. The sting of her first time rapidly faded, and she found she quite enjoyed it.

It took them a little over a fortnight to reach Storm’s End. The kingsroad ran due south towards the castle, and they would be on it within the hour. Elinor had chosen to ride today, rather than rattle around the wheelhouse in boredom. Maekar would not allow his son to ride in the wheelhouse when Elinor did not, so Daeron was miserably riding beside her. It was a lovely day for riding, and the stormlands were beautiful, if a bit wet. Even better, Ser Manfred had fallen behind them, choosing to linger at Brozengate with Lord Buckler. Elinor could not say she missed his company, although she gathered that his repeated missteps were the result of a sort of ignorance rather than malice.

Before them, the single massive drum tower of Storm’s End rose like a fist against the sky. The castle was huge, its outer wall at least a hundred feet high, and as they drew closer, Elinor saw it was nearly as thick on the side that faced the sea. The stones were so closely joined it looked as if the whole wall was one thick rock, dropped from the heavens to encircle the castle.

They rode into the yard, where an old man and three younger men awaited them. They dismounted, and the old man bowed to Prince Maekar.

“My prince, it is an honor to host you, your son, and his new bride,” he said. The old man was Orryn Baratheon, Lord of Storm’s End. Strange, Elinor thought, Father did not make him sound quite so old in his stories.

The three younger men with him must be his sons. She picked out Ser Lyonel Baratheon immediately, he was favoring his left leg, where Father said he had been injured during the trial of seven. The other two were harder to parse, both Baratheons obviously, by both their dress and their presence in the yard, but little differentiated them. They did not seem too far apart in age, so that was little help. She knew Lord Orryn’s second and third sons were named Rogar and Gowen, respectively, but there was not much to tell her which was which.

“I must apologize, my younger sons' wives are unavailable,” Lord Orryn said, “We have precious few noblewomen in the castle since my wife passed, so I fear Lady Elinor will be poorly entertained.”

“My wife Mara is visiting her father, he is ailing,” one man said, who must be Rogar. Elinor remembered a few years back her mother and father had attended Rogar’s wedding to Lady Mara Morrigen. Which meant the other man must be Gowen Baratheon, wed to Lady Tya Lannister.

“Is Lady Tya well?” Elinor asked.

“As well as a woman can be in her confinement,” Gowen said.

“Congratulations, I shall be sure to pray on her behalf,” Elinor said, smiling, “In any case, do not worry yourself about my entertainment. I shall be more than happy to accompany Daeron on whatever hunt I am certain you have planned for the afternoon.”

“Your father was always happy to join one of my hunts,” Lord Orryn said, "Unfortunately, my bones can no longer tolerate riding, shame I shall not have the honor of hunting with the Longthorn’s daughter.”

“I am surprised you want to join us, my good sisters cannot tolerate the gore of the hunt,” Ser Lyonel said.

“The only game I will not join for is boar, I have no wish to meet an early grave,” Elinor said.

“Wise of you,” Maekar said.

“Today we hunt deer, obviously, there is a stag my huntsmen have been tracking,” Ser Lyonel said, “We ride out after luncheon.”

They were escorted into the Round Hall, near the top of the single tower of Storm’s End. Luncheon was fish, baked and salted, served on a bed of greens. There was wine as well, and Elinor slipped a servant a gold coin to refill Daeron’s cup slower. She wanted him sober enough to stay safe on the hunt that afternoon. It worked, though Daeron did grumble a bit, he had a much more reasonable amount of wine than he normally did. Elinor was glad for it, she did not want him injuring himself in drunken clumsiness.

“Do you know the story of this castle, Lady Elinor?” Ser Lyonel asked.

“I do, but I should like to hear you tell it,” Elinor said.

“The first Storm King built it, Durran Godsgrief was his name. He took to wife the beautiful Elenei, daughter of the sea god and the goddess of the wind. When she gave him her maidenhead, she doomed herself to die a mortal death with him. Her godly parents were so wroth, they destroyed the castle and killed all the wedding guests. They would surely have killed Durran too, but fair Elenei shielded him. Well, Durran’s wrath was great too. He declared war upon the gods and they sent him fierce storms in reply. His lords pleaded with him to move inland, his priests said he must give up Elenei, even his smallfolk begged him to relent. He would not, each time the gods tore down his castle, he rebuilt it, bigger and stronger. He did so seven times, and no matter what the gods threw at him, they could not tear down his seventh castle, for the children of the forest had shaped the stones with magic,” Ser Lyonel said.

“How lovely for Elenei, to be loved so much Durran defied the gods for her,” Elinor remarked.

Daeron looped his fingers in hers, as she had done on the ferry when they left King’s Landing.

“How did they fall in love?” Daeron asked.

“It is only said that he won her love, the songs do not set down how,” Ser Lyonel said.

“I do not think love is something to be won,” Elinor said, “Rather, it is given freely.” Daeron smiled at her softly. She smiled back at him, heart fluttering.

The able bodied men of the castle, and Elinor, were led back out into the yard. A lovely chestnut mare was led out for her. The horse’s nose was soft as velvet when Elinor stroked it. The horse snuffled at her fingers.

“Sorry, sweetling, I don’t have any treats for you,” Elinor said. She put her left foot in the stirrup, and swung her right leg over the saddle. She adjusted her right foot in the stirrup, and picked up the reins. The rest of their party had mounted up as well, Daeron not too far from her on a grey mare.

When Ser Lyonel led them out, Daeron rode abreast with her into the woods, hounds wagging tails as they sought the scent of stag.

“I'm sure Ser Lyonel meant to insult me by giving me a mare, but she's quite sweet,” Daeron said.

“Mine is too, though I doubt Ser Lyonel was attempting to insult me,” Elinor said.

They picked their way through green soldier pines, ferns and other greenery clustered around their trunks. It was colder under the trees, and Elinor was glad of her new cloak. The forest was serene, birds chirping in the canopy, dogs by their horses hooves, low voices of the nobles mingling. Shame there were no noble ladies for Elinor to talk to, she could always make conversation better with women than with men. Although, perhaps that might be different now that she was wed. She would no longer need to choose her words so carefully. She had a husband, and her virtue was safely with him, and no longer in need of protection.

The few highborn women of the castle were likely with their ladies, in confinement with Lady Tya or visiting Lord Morrigen with Lady Mara. So Elinor was with the men. Perhaps at Highgarden she might have conversed with the servants, but in public she must comport herself as befit a prince’s wife. She smiled to herself, the novelty had not worn off yet. There were few prince’s wives in the realm, and to be married to one who would inherit a castle was a great boon indeed. I really ought to light another candle for the Maiden. She looked over at Daeron. He looked slightly less miserable than this morning.

“Enjoying the mare more than your palfrey?” Elinor asked.

“Yes, though I like the palfrey better than my courser. I know men are meant to ride stallions, but they've such a terrible attitude,” Daeron said.

“The master-of-horse at Highgarden was known to say a stallion would make a fine gelding if they became too temperamental,” Elinor said.

“Your master-of-horse would have hated Aerion,” Daeron remarked.

“How long is his exile to be?” Elinor asked.

“At least a few years,” Daeron said, “Father thinks a bit of time in the Free Cities will change him for the better. Aerion was always careful to hide his cruelty from Father before now, but I still do not know how he can look at the events of Ashford and conclude Lys is where Aerion will learn kindness.”

Elinor’s brows shot up, “He sent Aerion to Lys?”

Daeron laughed, “Did I not mention it? Brilliant of my father, isn’t it? He sent him with a fair amount of gold too, though I am certain Aerion will spend it all at pillow houses before the year is out.”

“I might have sent him to Lorath, or someplace equally as miserable,” Elinor said, “Mayhaps a few years at the Wall might change him for the better, though the Night’s Watch is not in the habit of accepting partial sentences.”

“Thank you, imagining Aerion at the Wall will entertain me for days,” Daeron said.

“I am happy to be of service,” Elinor said.

Daeron raised a brow, “That you are. Do you think anyone would notice if we snuck off?”

“Here?”

“Why not?”

Elinor could think of a million reasons why not, it would not be appropriate, she did not want anyone to catch them naked, they would certainly be missed, and not least of all, they were in the middle of the woods. But she also had one very good reason to do so, to steer their horses from the path and find a place where they could know one another. She wanted him.

“People would notice,” Elinor said, “Then they would come looking, and the last thing I want is for your father to catch us in the act.”

“It would not be the first time he has caught one of his sons in a compromising position,” Daeron said.

“Not here,” Elinor said, “Far too public.”

“I know some secluded spots near Summerhall, if you're willing,” Daeron offered.

“Maybe,” Elinor said, “I still do not enjoy the idea of someone stumbling upon us.”

“You do- That is to say, it is not a duty to you? I know you enjoy it, that it is pleasurable for you, but I do not want you to feel as though you must,” Daeron said, fiddling with his reins.

Elinor flushed a little, “No, I- I like it. I was not expecting it to be, fun, I guess is the word. And I must say, my mother vastly undersold how good it would feel.”

Daeron gave her that small lopsided grin she was coming to love. “There's so much more,” he said, “We’ve barely scratched the surface.”

They rode on in pleasant silence for the most part, sneaking glances at one another or pointing out something interesting in the woods, a bird or other small animal.

A hound barked, and then another, and then another. Soon all the hounds were barking, and Ser Lyonel pointed through the trees.

“There!” he called. There was a red deer, proud heavy antlers swinging as it turned tail and ran. It was a hart of ten, at least, Elinor had not been able to count all the points on its antlers before it fled. The hounds were off into the brush, and the horses followed, hot on their heels. Elinor turned to Daeron.

“Ready?” Elinor asked.

“Gods no,” Daeron said.

Elinor laughed, and gave her mare her heels. The chestnut mare was sure-footed, and Elinor leaned forward, ducking under branches as they surged through the forest. The slight breeze became a strong wind as they chased the deer, and Elinor’s hair was blown back as they went. Her horse’s ears swiveled forward, catching the baying of the hounds just before she did. There was a clearing just up ahead, and Elinor could see the rest of the hunt reined up. Elinor pulled on her reins, and leaned back, and her chestnut stopped. She heard Daeron rein up behind her.

The hounds had encircled the deer, and the stag was ready to fight back. He was already bleeding from a few places on his hind legs, and Ser Lyonel whistled, both to the dogs and the kennelmasters. The dogs were corralled, and Elinor got a better look at the beast. He was well and truly cornered now, and one of his legs was bent at a sickening angle. One lucky dog had managed a bite nasty enough to break its leg. The stag was cornered, all that was left now was to make an end to its suffering.

“Prince Maekar,” Ser Lyonel called, “The right is yours.”

Maekar dismounted, drew his sword, and dispatched the animal quickly and cleanly. Elinor had seen her father do much the same, and he had always said it was important to make it quick and as painless as possible for the animal. There was no honor in inflicting undue pain, he said.

“Well struck,” Elinor said, as Maekar cleaned his sword and sheathed it.

Ser Lyonel looked around in surprise at her, “You kept up with us? You must have an excellent seat, my lady.”

“Thank you, Ser,” Elinor said.

“You must be enjoying your new mount, my prince,” Ser Lyonel said, looking over Elinor’s shoulder to Daeron.

“Finely bred and with a sweet temperament, far better than those stots you must be used to,” he continued, “Shame, I had heard mixed things about your skills as a rider.”

Elinor did not enjoy being likened to a horse. Nor did Maekar enjoy the topic of conversation, if his scowl was anything to go by. Though it was hard to differentiate between a reaction to something, or his natural baseline grumpiness.

Daeron patted his mare’s neck, “If she has any complaints, she's kept them to herself.”

Elinor changed the subject, “You have very fine dogs, Ser. It is unusual for a dog to break a stag’s leg, is it not?”

“It is,” Ser Lyonel said, “How do you propose we reward him?”

“Let him keep his prize,” Elinor said, “If you can identify which dog it was.”

They rode back to the castle, and Elinor excused herself to freshen up and change for the feast, into a fine damask green gown, the floral patterns woven through in gold thread. She found Septa Tansy embroidering something in a room adjacent to the chambers Elinor and Daeron had been given. When she entered, Septa Tansy shoved her hoop under a cloak.

“My lady, did you enjoy the hunt?” Septa Tansy said.

“I did, I thought we might visit Lady Tya, if that would be appropriate. She is in her confinement,” Elinor said.

“We may, and a visit to the sept for a few prayers would be prudent as well,” Septa Tansy said.

Elinor nodded, and they left, bidding a maid to escort them to Lady Tya’s chambers. They made an interesting pair, she knew. Elinor in her finery and Septa Tansy in her white robes and rainbow belt. Septa Tansy’s only ornamentation was a crystal pendant around her neck. Elinor wore her locket, and the cuff Daeron had given her the morning after their wedding. Elinor’s curls were held back with the golden hair combs Aunt Maris had given her, and the matching earrings from Alys hung from her ears. Septa Tansy’s hair was light blonde, and streaked through with grey. She did not wear a hood as some septas did, merely tied half her hair back out of her face.

The maid took them to Lady Tya’s chambers, and knocked.

“My lady, the Lady Elinor Tyrell and her septa to see you,” the maid said when the door opened.

They were quickly ushered in, and Elinor blinked, eyes adjusting to the darkened room.The fire was lit, and the room was nearly stifling with the heat. All the windows had been closed and covered with tapestries depicting serene forest scenes, little woodland creatures clustered around pools under trees and suchlike. In a large bed, lay a woman in her twenties, with golden hair, green eyes, and a swollen belly. At her bedside, a septa was leading three women in a prayer. She recognized the seashells of House Westerling, the burning tree of House Marbrand, and the yellow sun of House Lefford. They rose when she was announced and all four women curtsied to her.

Elinor dipped her head to them politely, less than a month ago she would have curtsied as well, but there were few people in Westeros a prince’s wife did not outrank.

“Lady Tya, Lady Westerling, Lady Marbrand, Lady Lefford, thank you for allowing us to pay you a visit. Septa Tansy and I wished to offer our congratulations and prayers for you,” Elinor said, “You must forgive me, the happy news did not make its way to me in all the commotion of the wedding, I have no gift to offer you.”

Lady Tya smiled, “There is nothing to forgive, weddings make fools of us all. It is kind of you to visit me. Am I correct in remembering that you have a bit of Lannister blood in you?”

“Yes,” Elinor said, “My mother’s mother was Lady Ceryse Lannister of Lannisport before her marriage to my grandsire, Jon Oakheart.”

Lady Tya nodded, “You have the Lannister eyes, mayhaps you will pass those on to your children.”

“The blood of the dragon runs thick in Prince Maekar and his sons,” Lady Westerling remarked, “Sons do so often look like their fathers.”

“I expect this child shall look exactly like Gowen,” Lady Tya said, “It was thirty or so years ago, or so the maesters say, that a Baratheon maid wed a Lannister, and all their children had black hair.”

“Should we expect to hear of your confinement soon, Lady Elinor?” Lady Marbrand asked slyly.

“Leave our lady alone, Dalessa,” Lady Lefford said, “They’ve been married for less than a month.”

Elinor smiled, and felt her cheeks pink a little, “My husband and I have been enjoying our marriage, but as you say, it has been less than a month.”

“The prince is good to you?” Lady Tya asked.

“He is,” Elinor nodded.

“That is good, we heard…disturbing rumors about Prince Aerion, after Ashford. Lyonel has been particularly stormy since then,” Lady Lefford said.

“Daeron is not his brother,” Elinor said, “He has been nothing but kind to me.”

“Aye,” Septa Tansy said, “The cuff on her wrist was a gift from him, the morning after their wedding.”

Elinor lifted her wrist, so the women might see. The gems glowed in the firelight, and set the gold of the cuff to gleaming.

“It was Princess Rhaena’s once, before she became a septa,” Elinor said.

“It is beautiful,” Lady Westerling said, “How kind of him to give it to you.”

They made conversation a little longer, guessing whether Lady Tya’s child would be a boy or a girl, before Lady Tya’s septa led them in a prayer, and Elinor and Septa Tansy took their leave. They made their way to sept, and Elinor lit another candle for the Maiden, before they knelt at the Mother’s feet and prayed. Elinor prayed for Lady Tya and Lady Alys, and then asked the Mother to bless Kiera and herself. When she rose, it was time for the feast. Septa Tansy delivered her to Daeron in their chambers, and excused herself.

“Where did you get to?” Daeron asked.

“We visited Lady Tya, and then the sept,” Elinor said, “And you?”

“Made conversation with Lord Orryn, he’s not so bad, but I am certain now that Ser Lyonel meant to insult me,” Daeron shrugged, “Shame it worked out so well for me, I’m sure he’s not happy to be foiled.”

Daeron took her arm, and they returned to the Round Hall, where they took their places to the left of Ser Lyonel Baratheon. Elinor would have questioned the judgment of putting Daeron next to Lyonel, but she was nearly certain Ser Lyonel had arranged the seating. Lord Orryn opened the feast with a toast to Daeron and Elinor, and the now-familiar cry of “The dragon and the rose!” went up around the hall, carried by Lord Orryn’s household knights.

The first course was a seafood soup, followed by a sweetgrass salad. The main course was venison, the stag their hunt had brought down. They had cooked him slowly, over several hours, braised in spices and butter. Lord Orryn made a gift of the stag’s antlers to Prince Maekar, who accepted. Flaky fruit pastries were served for desserts, and Elinor washed down her meal with a cup or two of Arbor gold. Daeron seemed pleased enough with the food, but was more pleased with his wine cup, since Elinor had not bribed a servant to fill it slower this time. The only danger Daeron was in now was falling over while drunk and bruising himself, which she was decently sure he would survive.

When the plates had been cleared away, Lord Orryn stood again, “These old bones are not fit to escort such a lovely young woman, so I would ask my son and heir, Ser Lyonel, to open the dancing with Lady Elinor.”

Ser Lyonel stood, candlelight glinting off the silver in his hair, and offered her his hand. She took it and he whirled her out across the floor as the musicians struck up a lively tune. Lyonel was a better dancer than her, she could already tell, and Elinor had to focus very carefully to avoid bringing her slippered foot down onto Ser Lyonel’s boot. As they danced, his hand drifted south from her waist to rest at the small of her back, and he pulled her so close there was only a few inches between their chests. He still smelled of the woods they had been hunting in earlier.

“Ser Lyonel, perhaps you mistake me for your wife,” she said.

“I have no wife,” he said, “Though rest assured my intention is not to get in your skirts, it is merely to rile your husband and good father.”

“Is that wise?” Elinor asked.

“Oh almost certainly not, but I try to make a habit of unwise decisions,” Ser Lyonel said.

She looked up to the dais where Maekar and Daeron sat. Maekar’s jaw was clenched tightly again, and Daeron was looking at them in confusion. The song ended, and Daeron made his way down to her.

Ser Lyonel passed her off to him, “Keep her warm for me, I mean to take another turn later.” Lyonel went back to his cup.

“What in the hells was that about?” Daeron asked.

“I am being used to needle you and your father,” Elinor replied.

“Ah,” Daeron said, “Well, he certainly picked the right way to go about it. I'm almost certain this is about Ashford, though it could be I’ve offended him in some other way and simply forgotten. Or Aerion offended him, and we are simply close enough. Does Baratheon have any sisters? If Aerion despoiled them that would explain it.”

“Is that something Aerion would do?”

Daeron laughed, “That you managed to avoid hearing about his exploits is truly impressive. Yes, that is something Aerion would do.”

“Baratheon has no sisters, at least none still living,” Elinor said, “You know, my father briefly considered marrying me to him. I might have been Lady of Storm’s End someday.”

Daeron pulled her closer, “I am glad you will be Princess of Summerhall. I do not think you would like Ser Lyonel, or this dreary castle. What changed your father's mind?”

“He said Lyonel was too old. Apparently he only really considered a few men before you, Ser Lyonel, the heir to Casterly Rock, the heir to Riverrun, and the heir to the Eyrie. Then your father wrote and that was that,” Elinor said.

“Only princes and lords paramount for you,” Daeron quipped, “Your father must love you very much.”

“He does,” Elinor smiled, “We all care about each other quite a bit.”

“I cannot wait to get back to Summerhall,” Daeron said, “And see Daella and Rhae, they must be so lonely without the rest of us. Aemon left for the Citadel little more than a year ago, and now with Aerion and Aegon gone, things are going to be so quiet.”

“Are you suggesting we fill Summerhall with enough children to make up for the brothers who’ve gone astray?” Elinor teased.

“That would certainly be one way to pass the time,” Daeron said, “I hadn’t really thought about children before we wed. I knew on some level I’d be expected to have them. Three is a good number, would you agree? A son for Summerhall, a brother for him, and a little girl.”

“Our daughter doesn’t get a sister?”

“See how you feel after three. I think Aemon lulled my parents into a false sense of security, everyone said he was such an easy babe, they had no way of knowing what was coming next.”

“Three is a good number to start with, and then perhaps a few more, but I do not feel the need to challenge Jaehaerys and Alysanne for number of children,” Elinor said, “Although it is really up to the Mother how many we have.”

“I like to think we have a little say in it,” Daeron said. He spun her around, and kissed her gently when she returned to his arms.

“Aegon will come back someday,” Daeron said, “That hedge knight of his will knight him, and he’ll come back. He’s better served away from us for now. Ser Duncan is a good man, perhaps he can make sure Egg becomes a good man too.”

“There is a good man in you as well,” Elinor said, “Even if you insist on drowning him in wine.”

“You are the only one who thinks so.”

“You are though. You have been gentle with me, and kind,” Elinor said.

Daeron smiled, but said, “You barely know me.”

“Then let me know you,” she said. Let me love you, she thought, and love me in return.

After she danced with Daeron, she danced with Maekar, and both of Ser Lyonel’s brothers. Her dances with Maekar and Rogar were nearly silent. Maekar also wanted to know what Ser Lyonel was playing at, and ground his teeth when she told him. Elinor and Rogar exchanged pleasantries, but not much else. Gowen, however, wanted to know how his wife was.

“The fucking septa will not let me in,” Gowen said, “Tya could make her let me, but she will not.”

“She seems well, perhaps a bit tired, but I think that is to be expected,” Elinor said, “Her ladies and I are of the opinion she is carrying a boy.”

“You think so?” Gowen said, “That would be splendid.”

After a few dances with noble knights, it became clear there were not enough women to sustain a formal dance, so the musicians switched to a bawdier tune, one that might be played in a tavern or tourney pavilion. Maekar and Lord Orryn promptly left. Ser Lyonel leaped back down, and soon the floor was a mix of knights and servants spinning about wildly. A group of women Elinor was nearly certain were laundresses offered to show her the steps, and after a quick look around Elinor agreed. She danced with them until her feet hurt, and when she looked around the hall had all but cleared out, it was just Lyonel and Daeron drinking at the high table now.

Elinor slid into her husband's lap, and leaned in to whisper in his ear, “I am meant to be minding you. If you cannot be trusted with your own cup, I will wield it for you.”

“You are a cruel woman,” he said, smiling up at her, “Very well, do as you must.”

Elinor took his cup, and filled it from the flagon. She brought the cup to his lips, and once he had taken a few sips, put it back on the table. Daeron pouted dramatically, and she was sure he would have whined, had she not silenced him with a kiss.

“Is she your wife or your mother?” Ser Lyonel said, “Poor girl, some man ought to take you to bed tonight, and show you what it is to be fucked by a man you don't have to nurse afterwards.”

“Careful Ser, a good woman could take offense to your jests,” Elinor said.

Daeron brought a hand up to fiddle with the tie at the front of her dress.

“It is a good thing my wife is so forgiving,” Daeron said.

“Aye, you are almost certainly undeserving of her,” Lyonel looked at Daeron. “Beesbury and Hardyng died because of you. Ser Duncan would not swear his sword to me because of you,” he said.

“Rest assured my lord, the gods will punish me for my part in it, in this life and in the next, no doubt,” Daeron said.

“The apple boy had it right, the only honorable thing a Targaryen can do for the realm is finish on his wife's tits,” Lyonel said, nodding at her breasts.

Elinor frowned, and resisted the urge to cross her arms over her chest.

“Will you do the same when you finally take a wife, ser? As I recall you have a drop of the dragon blood yourself,” Elinor said.

Lyonel looked startled, then laughed.

“Aye, that I do. The Conqueror's bastard brother gave it to me. Nonetheless, when I take a wife, I shall finish inside her, and hope that the blood of the Storm Kings wins out,” he said.

“What will you do?” Lyonel continued, “Will you finish on her tits as is honorable? Or will you spill your seed inside her and hope her rosy womb will counteract the madness in your blood?”

“I will give my wife the child she so desires, and hope that they are nothing like me. Better another Longthorn than a drunkard, or worse, a Brightflame,” Daeron said.

Lyonel clapped him on the shoulder, “Good lad, at least you’ve some sense.”

“Not really, fortunately my wife has enough sense for the both of us,” Daeron said.

“Is that what this is?” Lyonel gestured between the two of them, “Father can't watch you all hours of the day, so he gets you a wife to do it for him?”

“Is it that obvious?” Elinor said.

“You were feeding him his wine,” Lyonel said, mirth in his voice.

“It is a sweet thing, to be minded by one so lovely,” Daeron said.

Elinor kissed him again, for a few moments longer than was proper. When they parted, Elinor looked to Lyonel Baratheon, who was watching them almost wistfully.

“Apologies, good Ser, such behavior is not appropriate for your halls,” Elinor said.

“You could ride him in that chair or slit his throat and I would not care, so long as it broke the boredom here,” Lyonel said.

Elinor tilted her head to the side, “Have you ever met my brother? You two will either be the best of friends or the bitterest of enemies, and I cannot tell which.”

Lyonel seemed to perk up at that.

“Well hold on, if riding me in this chair is on the table I’d like to discuss that further,” Daeron said.

“Which is it?” Lyonel cut in, “Is she riding you in the chair or are you taking her on the table?”

“Neither, Daeron and I will go back to the rooms you have so generously provided us with,” Elinor said.

Daeron took that as permission, or perhaps a command, because the next thing he did was wrap his arms around her waist and stand. Elinor rested her hands behind his neck.

Elinor laughed. “Goodnight, Ser Lyonel,” she called.

Lyonel lifted a cup in their direction, and Daeron carried her back to their rooms, kissing her all the way, while she ran her fingers through his hair. When he had kicked the door shut behind them, Elinor broke their kissing.

“What did he mean when he talked about me riding you?” Elinor asked.

Daeron grinned in the low light, “Oh you’ll like this, almost as much as I will.”

He set her down, and stripped them both bare before pulling her into bed. Daeron lay flat on his back, and maneuvered Elinor to straddle his hips. His fingers went to her pearl, and rubbed circles there while he stroked himself. He notched the tip of his cock in her entrance and gently lowered her hips.

“Oh!” Elinor exclaimed, “I think I understand.”

She sank onto him slowly, with a slight sting as he stretched her. He felt impossibly huge in this position, and Elinor felt she might break open around him. Her hips met his, and Daeron groaned beneath her. She looked down at him, dirty blonde hair splayed out on the pillow, lips parted in bliss. His eyes gleamed in the fire light, and his hands came to rest at her hips. Elinor ran her hands over his bare chest, watching Daeron shiver beneath her.

“Ride me,” he said, “Use me to get yourself off.”

Elinor rolled her hips experimentally, and gasped.

“It feels… oh gods, Daeron,” she moaned.

“I know, I know,” he said, tracing circles on her hips with his thumbs, “Just, keep going, please. Whatever you want, whatever feels good, just please, don’t stop.”

Elinor rolled her hips again, lightning arcing through her veins. She braced her hands on Daeron’s chest, and started to rock her hips against his. She could see why they referred to it as ‘riding’; it was similar to the movement of one’s hips while on horseback. Daeron’s tip rubbed deliciously against a spot within her, and she increased her pace. Daeron moaned, and squeezed her hips in his hands.

Daeron moved her hips up slightly, and then brought them back down to meet his. The motion made Elinor feel something, deep in her belly. Daeron looked up at her, and licked his lips. Elinor did the same thing again, sliding herself up and down on his cock. It was too much, but it felt incredible, and when she looked down at Daeron he was just… gone, eyes glazed over and mouth open, letting out little breathless moans as she rode him.

“You look beautiful like this,” she whispered, “So pretty.”

Daeron whined and thrust his hips up into her, “Fuck, fuck, that’s-”

Elinor felt a thrill rush up her spine, at how undone he was by her, though she was sure the wine had helped. She rode him slowly and gently, savoring every movement, drawing it out as long as possible. The room was heady, and Elinor’s whole body felt hot, as she felt the now-familiar sensation of her peak approaching. A few thrusts later, Elinor seated herself on him fully, throwing her head back as her body shook.

“More,” Daeron gasped, “Keep going, please.”

“I- but I already-” Elinor stuttered.

“You can have another, as many as you want, just please, keep riding me,” Daeron said.

So she did, grinding her hips against his in circles, and her second peak came upon her fast and intense, and left her gasping, slumped forward against his chest. Daeron slid his hands up her back, and held her against him. He thrust lazily up into her a few times and spilled. Elinor let all the tension go out of her limbs, and laid herself fully on him. They lay there, breathing heavily, Daeron’s chest rising and falling beneath her cheek.

Daeron spoke first, “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I am. That was, uh, good to say the least, but it was a lot,” Elinor said.

Daeron smiled, “That’s how I prefer it, I like being left mindless.”

“So the dreams will not bother you as much?” Elinor asked.

“Exactly.”

Chapter Text

The wheelhouse rattled through Summertown, as the village around Summerhall had been dubbed. How creative. Surely they could have thought of something better to call it. The people of the village had come to watch them roll by, not cheering as they had in King’s Landing, but just watching, curiously. Maekar had made Daeron ride with him, so it was just Elinor and Septa Tansy in the wheelhouse. All in all, it had taken nearly a month to travel from King’s Landing to Summerhall, and Elinor was looking forward to not being on the road anymore. Their wheelhouse climbed the hill and passed through the gates of the castle.

Daeron helped Elinor out of the wheelhouse. Summerhall was lightly fortified, built of unremarkable pale grey stone and encircled by a dry moat and a single curtain wall half the width of even Highgarden’s slimmest wall. Two guard towers rose up from the wall, one facing north and one facing south. Past the gatehouse was the courtyard, across which the keep stood. Elinor spied a number of buildings hugging the curtain wall, a kitchen, a bakehouse, a storehouse, an armory, stables, and separate from the wall, a seven sided sept and a well. There was a cordoned off area to the right that Elinor suspected might be a garden.

In the yard stood a number of people, men and women, household knights and servants, and in front of them all, a septa and two little girls, both with purple eyes. One looked to be about ten, and the other perhaps a few years younger, maybe seven. The younger girl had Prince Maekar’s silver hair, and the older had brown hair a shade darker than Elinor’s own.

“Elinor, allow me to introduce my daughters,” Maekar said, “This is Daella,” he gestured to the brownhaired girl, “And this is my youngest, Rhae,” he pointed at the silverhaired girl.

Daella stepped forward, “It’s very lovely to meet you Elinor.”

Elinor smiled, “It's lovely to meet you as well.”

The septa pushed at her other charge, “Rhae.”

Rhae folded her arms petulantly, “I don't want a new sister. I have one already.”

“I do, I want an older sister for a change,” Daella said.

“Apologies, my lady, I am Septa Mycella. I have done my best with the girls, but Rhae is…” she trailed off.

“Spirited?” Elinor supplied, raising a brow at Maekar.

Daeron chuckled, “A menace, more like.”

Rhae ran to Daeron and threw her arms around him. He picked her up and spun her around a few times, until she fell to giggles. When he set Rhae down, the girl gave her a triumphant look. She does not want a new sister, and she does not want to lose Daeron to me. If she had married into any other house, she might have thought it very silly. A wife was not a sister, and one could not take the other's place in a man's heart. But this was House Targaryen, so Elinor only thought it a little silly.

She smiled warmly at Rhae. I can love a motherless little girl, no matter how much trouble she makes.

A man approached Maekar, “No major upsets in your absence, only a few disputes over farming boundaries that I thought to leave to you.”

“Very good,” Maekar nodded, “Elinor, this is Summerhall’s steward, and castellan in my absence, Ser Gyles Caron.”

Elinor dipped her head to him. She and the steward would be spending a decent amount of time together, keeping Summerhall running, so it was better to be on good terms with him if possible.

A maid approached her then, curtseying.

“My name is Cass, milady. I'm to be your maid,” she said.

“Lovely to meet you, Cass,” Elinor said. Cass had brown hair and brown eyes, and looked to be in her mid-twenties.

“Would you please have my things brought to Daeron’s chambers?” Elinor asked. Cass dipped her head and scurried off to get her trunks unloaded and placed in her new chambers.

“You don't want to keep separate chambers?” Daeron asked.

“Why would we?” Elinor said, “I quite like sleeping beside you.”

Daeron grinned slyly, “Among other things.”

Elinor fought a smile, and failed. Daeron reached for her, when Daella popped up between them.

“Can we give Elinor a tour?” she asked her older brother.

“If that's alright,” Daeron looked at Maekar.

“Yes, Elinor can make her own schedule,” Maekar said.

“A tour would be lovely, then I’d like to look at our rooms, meet with Ser Caron, and observe Daella and Rhae’s lessons,” Elinor said.

Daella took her hand, and showed her first to the stables, a wooden building filled with the soft sounds of horses at rest. Daella pointed out her horse, a little dappled grey pony she named Moonlight. Moonlight’s nose was velvety soft as Daella and Elinor fed him carrots. They went next to the kitchens, with their great stone ovens and large wooden tables, pots and pans hanging from the rafters. The cooks bowed and curtsied before continuing with their work. Connected to the kitchens was a large storehouse, dark and chilly, shelves filled with food.

“It always stays cool here, even in summer,” Daella said, “Rhae and I hide in here sometimes, when we don’t want to go to our lessons.”

“Daella, don’t tell her that!” Rhae said.

“This was my hiding spot once,” Daeron said, “Aerion and I would come here instead of doing histories with Master Melaquin.”

“You passed it down?” Elinor asked.

“I guess, though Aemon never needed it, he was always happy to go to his lessons,” Daeron said.

Then Daella took them to the bakehouse, the heavenly smell of bread baking filled the building.

“Sometimes, if we ask nicely, the baker will give us pastries before dinner,” Daella said.

Daella showed them the sept after that. It wasn’t nearly as grand as the one at Highgarden, a small seven sided building with pews in the center and seven altars for the seven gods. The statues on the altars were simple, and the windows were clear instead of the elaborate stained glass honoring Garth Greenhand and the Seven that Elinor had prayed under her whole life. It was still a sept though, and Elinor could feel her gods here. The septon was a man in his forties, wearing white robes and a rainbow belt with a crystal around his neck, who introduced himself as Septon Mervyn.

He smiled and bowed to her, and smiled a little wider when he saw Septa Tansy trailing them.

“Tansy, is that you?” Septon Mervyn said.

Septa Tansy laughed, “It is. Elinor, Septon Mervyn and I knew each other at the Starry Sept. We were both novices there.”

“How lovely to see an old friend after all this time,” Septon Mervyn said, “It’s been nearly twenty years now, since we said our vows.”

“Lovely indeed,” Septa Tansy said, “I should be happy to catch up later, after my lady is settled.”

“Of course, of course,” Septon Mervyn said.

Daella took them to the armory then, where the blacksmith kept his forge.

“Prince Daeron, your father said your armor needed to be fixed,” the smith said, “Come by tomorrow afternoon and we’ll sort it.”

“Do you really need me for that, Jasper?” Daeron asked.

“Only if you want it to fit correctly,” Jasper said.

“I’d rather not have it at all,” Daeron replied.

“Let Jasper do his job,” Elinor said, “Then the next time your father makes you enter a tourney, you will not have ill-fitting armor to add to your wounds.”

Daella took them back outside. Tucked between the garden wall and the armory, was a training yard. Wooden dummies and archery targets lined the walls, and there was an open sandy space for drills and sparring. Daeron grimaced at the sight of the dummies, and quickly ushered them into the gardens.

Daella led Elinor under an arch in the garden wall. Summerhall’s garden wasn’t quite as lovely as Highgarden’s, though few were. There was a little path, with a stone bench off to one side. The garden was full of flowering plants, little blue flowers shaped like stars, purple flowers with curving petals, as well as buttercups, daisies, and heather. Elinor could hear the babbling of water flowing over stone somewhere in the garden. Likely a fountain, or a stream perhaps.

“I don’t see any roses,” Elinor said.

“They won’t grow here,” Daella said, “The gardener, Simon, says that the climate is wrong for them.”

“Shame,” Elinor said, “It’s hardly a proper garden without roses.”

There was a hill at one end of the gardens, rising above the rest of the greenery. A large oak tree crowned the hill, throwing shadows on its head.

“What’s that?” Elinor asked.

All three Targaryens went quiet, and somber.

“My mother is buried up there,” Daeron said quietly, “It was her favorite place in the castle.”

“Oh,” Elinor said. She decided to change the subject, since Daella had seemed so happy to tow Elinor around the castle. “Are there kennels? I didn’t see any out in the yard.”

“Yes, one of the dogs just had puppies,” Daella nodded enthusiastically, “Would you like to see?”

“I would love to,” Elinor said.

Daella took Elinor’s hand again and pulled her up the garden path to the end away from Lady Dyanna’s resting place.

At the base of one of the guardtowers, lay the kennels. Within the enclosed wooden yard were several puppies, perhaps a few months old, running around and biting at each other’s tails.

“If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times, leave the dogs alone during the day,” a man said from within the little yard, “The dogs have their lessons and you have yours.”

Daella and Rhae did not listen, rushing to the fence to stick their hands out for the puppies. The little things came trotting up to the princesses, licking their hands and wagging their tails. The girls giggled, and pet the puppies heads. Elinor smiled.

“Is it really so bad to let them pet the puppies, Harwin?” Daeron asked.

“They’re meant to be hunting dogs, not ladies lapwarmers,” Harwin grumbled.

“Good thing we’re princesses then,” Rhae said.

“I’ve yet to see the keep,” Elinor said.

“We should show you the mews first,” Daella said, “Father said Uncle Rhaegel and Aunt Alys gave you falcons for a wedding present, that’s where they’ll be kept.”

“Uncle Rhaegel gave us a songbird, I don’t know if they can keep it in the mews with the other birds,” Daeron said.

“Mayhaps we can keep it in our solar,” Elinor suggested.

The mews were on the other side of the tower, a two story wooden building filled with chambers for the birds, likely housing falcons, hawks, and perhaps even an eagle or two. Maekar seemed the type of man to hunt with an eagle. Daella pointed them out as they walked back into the main yard and up to the keep.

The keep was a three story building made of the same pale grey stone as the rest of the castle. It had four towers, and large glass windows big enough to sit in. Two guards stood before large oaken doors, and nodded to Daeron as they passed. One of them gave Elinor an appreciative look, and raised his eyebrows at Daeron.

“Friends of yours?” Elinor asked.

“After a fashion,” Daeron said.

The guards laughed.

Daella brought them first to the Great Hall, a large stone room with a few hearths that took up much of the first floor. At the far end of the room, was a simple seat, carved from stone. As Elinor drew closer, she could pick out scales carved into the surface of the stone. That would be Daeron’s seat one day, if he ever bothered to use it, and their son’s after him. Elinor wondered whether she would live to see her son become Prince of Summerhall. She smiled, such things were so far in the future they did not bear thinking about.

Daella took them up to the second floor, where there was a great library and several guest rooms, as well as Ser Caron’s apartments and some of the other servants. The third floor was for the family. Daella pointed out her father’s chambers as they passed, as well as the old nursery. There was a portrait of a woman hanging on the wall in the middle of the hallway. She had light brown skin, and brown hair, and violet eyes Elinor had become quite familiar with. The woman was wearing purple robes streaked with stars, and she had a knowing smile.

“That’s our mother,” Rhae said, “She’s the most beautiful woman in the world, ever.”

“You all have her eyes,” Elinor said.

The last stop on their little tour was the room Daella and Rhae currently shared. Their room looked exactly as one would expect the room of two little girls to look, beds unmade, dolls and books strewn about.

“I’ll take Elinor to my rooms, well, our rooms now,” Daeron said, “You two can go back to whatever it is you do when you’re running away from Septa Mycella.”

“I’ll take them back to Septa Mycella’s quarters,” Septa Tansy offered.

“And then catch up with an old friend?” Elinor asked playfully.

Septa Tansy smiled, “Yes, I believe I shall.” Septa Tansy ushered the princesses away, and Daeron took Elinor by the arm and guided her down the hall.

“I did not know Tansy and Mervyn knew each other,” Daeron said.

“Nor did I, though it sounds as if it were a lifetime ago, for both of them,” Elinor said.

“Do you suppose they ever…” Daeron trailed off.

Elinor laughed, “I doubt it. Septa Tansy’s always been staunch in her faith, she’d never betray her vows.”

“Maybe so, but before they had vows to keep, it might have been different,” Daeron said. He stopped, in front of a plain oak door, much like the others they’d passed. “Welcome home, I suppose. I doubt it compares to Highgarden.” Daeron pushed the door open, and they stepped in.

Elinor took in Daeron’s solar. It was a bit of a mess, which was not unexpected. The chairs and couch were faded and mismatched, the rug was similarly worn down. It was clean at least, no clothes strewn about or old wine goblets. The small tables were scratched and dusty. Elinor looked through the door to the bedchamber and saw it was in a similar state.

She looked at him, “It's a bit, uh, neglected, and somewhat out of fashion.”

“Change anything you like, except the tapestries, my mother picked them,” Daeron said. There was one large tapestry in the solar, it depicted a white castle, ivory towers like outstretched fingers reaching for a dawn-streaked sky.

“Is that Starfall?” Elinor asked.

“Yes,” Daeron said, “We all have one like it.”

Elinor wandered into the bedroom, there was a smaller tapestry there, white stars against a black night sky. The Sword of the Morning, Elinor knew her constellations as well as any highborn maiden. Though I am a wife now, not a maiden. She was becoming familiar with the rhythms of the bedchamber now, her maidenhead long gone.

Elinor walked back out into the solar over to the bookshelf. She ran her hand over the spines of the books, fingers stopping over a title she did not recognize, A Wanton’s Tale: A Caution for Young Girls. It looked well worn, and Elinor made a mental note to ask Daeron about it later.

“Would it be alright if we moved the Starfall tapestry into the bedchamber, and put the tapestry my parents gave us up in the solar?” Elinor asked, “Starfall and the Sword of the Morning go together better.”

“That’s fine, I just did not want them removed,” Daeron said.

“Why would I remove them?” Elinor said.

“I don't know, but they were from my mother,” Daeron said.

“I understand,” Elinor said, though she didn't, not really. How could she understand when her own mother still walked the earth? Joanna Tyrell had decades left, and would live to see grandchildren, and perhaps even great-grandchildren, if the gods were kind.

Elinor turned to Daeron, and saw a strange, covered brazier by the hearth. She walked up to it.

“What's this?” Elinor asked, reaching for the lid.

“Wait, don't-” Daeron’s warning came too late, as white hot pain lanced through Elinor’s hand. She yelped as she pulled her hand back, and cradled it against her chest.

Daeron pulled her into his side, “I tried to tell you. It's too hot for anyone but us to touch. Let me see.”

Elinor showed him her hand. The palm of her hand was red where it had touched the metal.

“It's not too bad, though we should probably see the maester anyway,” he said.

“What's in there? What needs to be kept that hot?” Elinor asked.

“My egg,” Daeron said, he lifted the cover with ease. Elinor looked down, and saw a large egg, covered in blue and gold scales. The egg shone like a gem and was nestled in a hot bed of embers.

“You have to keep them warm,” Daeron said, “Otherwise they won't hatch.”

“The dragons are gone,” Elinor said, almost in a daze, “The last one died before my grandfather was born.” She could not tear her eyes from the egg. She felt strangely dizzy, imagining a world where it would crack open and some strange, fire-breathing creature would crawl out. What must it have been like, when dragons ruled the skies? She imagined people must have spent an inordinate amount of time looking up.

“The dragons will return one day, I’ve dreamed of it,” Daeron said, “It's one of the few good dreams I have.”

“How can you tell the difference? When is a dream just a dream?” Elinor asked.

“My other dreams are fuzzy, but if it's one of those dreams, it feels sharp, it feels more real than you do,” Daeron said.

“But I am real,” Elinor said, pressing herself against his chest.

“So you are,” he said, “Very real, but so are my dreams.”

“If I close my eyes, I can see it now,” he continued, “A great fire, and three hatchlings, and purple eyes. It might be my egg that hatches. My father placed it in my cradle the day I was born.”

“It's beautiful,” Elinor said.

“The egg or the dream?” Daeron asked.

“The egg. The dream is terrifying,” Elinor said.

“If my egg had hatched, if I had a dragon, I would take you flying,” Daeron said, “I’d take you up above the clouds.”

“Would a dragon even let me on?” Elinor asked, “I’m not like you, that cover burned me, and you picked it up like it was nothing. You dream of things that have not happened yet, your great-great-great-grandparents were dragonriders.”

“The dragons would carry passengers, so long as their riders were there as well,” Daeron said, “The bond between rider and dragon was so deep, any dragon of mine would know you were my wife. And you forgot one other quirk of ours. We do not get sick.”

“What?” Elinor laughed, “You’ve never gotten a cold?”

“Never,” Daeron said, “I've made myself sick plenty of times, but I've never gotten sick.” He brushed a thumb over her hot skin, “Come, you’ll need to meet Maester Melaquin anyway.”

Daeron brought her to one of the four towers, where the maester kept his chambers. A man in grey robes with a chain around his neck opened the door.

“Prince Daeron, Lady Elinor, forgive me, I had lost myself in a book,” Maester Melaquin said. Elinor would put him in his late forties, if she had to guess, based on the streaks of grey in his dark hair. His chain had links denoting proficiency in ravenry, astronomy, history, money and accounts, and warcraft. Maester Melaquin’s chain also had two silver links. He must be an expert in healing. Maester Haroth, Highgarden’s maester, also had two silver links.

“No apologies necessary,” Elinor said, “Would you be so kind as to take a look at my hand? I burned it on a brazier.”

“One of the egg warming ones? It is not the first time I’ve seen such an injury in these halls. Follow me,” Maester Melaquin said. He led them past a room with one large table and a smaller one painted green. He took them into a room with a metal table in the center and workbenches laden with herbs and poultices. He bid Elinor sit down, and then spread a poultice that sapped the heat from her burn before wrapping her palm in a linen bandage.

“Please try to flex your fingers, my lady,” Maester Melaquin said. Elinor was able to, somewhat stiffly though.

“It should be healed in a week or two,” Maester Melaquin said, “Please, feel free to come to me if you have any questions about anything. Being lady of a castle presents unique challenges and if any concerns come up for you, I would like to know, to better assist you. Which reminds me, I have something for you.”

Maester Melaquin disappeared into a connected room. Elinor looked at Daeron questioningly. He shrugged. Maester Melaquin returned, carrying a small little booklet. It was stamped with the current year on the front, 209 AC, and when Elinor flipped through she found pages corresponding to the months, with little boxes for each of the days.

“It is for keeping track,” Maester Melaquin said, “I will give you another for next year, if you like.”

“Thank you,” Elinor said. If her mother used such a thing to track the coming and going of her moonblood, she had not mentioned it.

Elinor found herself with Ser Caron then, he plopped several ledgers in front of her and walked her through the ins and outs of the castle's finances. Elinor’s head swam with numbers, but it was clear to her that the servants were being paid well, and there was more money coming in than going out, even before accounting for her dowry. There were a few letters that Elinor and Ser Caron deemed worthy of Maekar’s attention that would be passed on. Elinor took lunch with him as well, and then Septa Tansy came to fetch her to observe the princesses' lessons.

Septa Tansy and Elinor joined Daella and Rhae in Maester Melaquin’s chambers. Elinor and Septa Tansy sat quietly in the corner as Maester Melaquin first spent time recounting the tensions prior to the Dance of the Dragons, and then they worked on maths for at least an hour. Daella could recall details about the various lords and ladies of King Viserys’s court with ease, but Rhae finished her sums well before her sister.

After that, the four of them met with Septa Mycella in her solar, and after a quick reading from the Maiden’s Book, Septa Mycella sat with them and observed their needlework. Daella’s stitches were crooked, just as Daeron had said, though Rhae’s were neat and tidy. Both girls were working on three-headed dragons, though Daella’s was under a falling star, and Rhae had incorporated a sun and spear in hers. Elinor also noticed that Rhae was using more complicated stitches compared to Daella’s relatively simple ones.

After needlework, Septa Mycella gave them harp lessons. While neither girl excelled, nor would they embarrass themselves if asked to play. When the lessons were done for the day, Daella and Rhae traipsed back off to their room to play with their toys.

Elinor went up to Septa Mycella afterwards, “Are you and Maester Melaquin the princesses only tutors?”

“Yes, it’s just the two of us,” Septa Mycella said, “I believe Maester Melaquin often tutors them in other subjects, such as astrology and language. He cycles through subjects to keep them interested. I also teach them dancing, though I myself am no great dancer.”

Elinor nodded, “Thank you. You have given me much to ponder.”

Elinor and Septa Tansy left and when they were in the hall, Septa Tansy gave her a look.

“I know,” Elinor said, “This will not do at all.”

Septa Tansy nodded, “You do not need me to remind you that their education is as much your responsibility as Prince Maekar’s.”

“I will speak to him after dinner,” Elinor said.

Dinner was a veritable feast that night, to celebrate the Prince of Summerhall’s return. The food was well done, and the Great Hall was filled with the castle’s inhabitants. Prince Maekar sat in front of his high seat, Daeron to his left, and Elinor at Daeron’s left. The Great Hall was decorated with two large tapestries, one depicting the coronation of King Daeron and Queen Myriah, and another the marriage of Princess Daenerys and Prince Maron Martell. A smaller tapestry had Baelor the Blessed walking barefoot down the Boneway to return Dornish hostages after Daeron the Young Dragon’s conquest of Dorne. Though the Young Dragon had conquered Dorne, he could not hold it, as Elinor’s grandfather could attest. Highgarden had only passed to him because his cousin had perished in the Dornish rebellion. It was ill-done, to murder a man in his bed, though the Dornish had never been famous for honor in combat.

All in all, the tapestries painted a picture of unity, a realm finally under one banner, as Aegon the Conqueror had dreamed so many years ago. When dinner had finished, Prince Maekar stood to leave. Elinor kissed Daeron on the cheek, and followed him out into the hall.

“Maekar, I would like to speak with you about Daella and Rhae, if you have a moment,” Elinor said.

“What have they done now?” Maekar said.

“Nothing, as far as I know. It is about their education. I am sure Septa Mycella and Maester Melaquin are excellent tutors, but young ladies need to know more than just history, maths, prayers, and the womanly arts. Are they taking lessons with your master of horse? Are they learning to hawk?” Elinor asked, “They could even take up archery if they wanted, my own cousin Rosamund is an excellent shot.”

“They can take lessons with the master of horse and my falconer,” Maekar said, “If they wish to practice archery, they are welcome to do so.”

“There is another, more personal matter,” Elinor said, “Daella is ten, and likely to flower in the next few years. Has Septa Mycella prepared her?”

“If she has, she has not spoken of it to me.”

Elinor nodded and went to find the septa. She was, unsurprisingly, in the sept. Elinor took her aside and asked her what Daella knew of the change that would come upon her.

“I do not know, I myself have not told her anything. Whatever she has learned will come from the women of the castle,” Septa Mycella said.

“Why have you not told her anything? She is your charge,” Elinor said.

“It is not my place. Such things should come from…” Septa Mycella trailed off.

“From her mother?” Elinor finished, “Aye, they should. But her mother is in the grave now, and has been for seven years. Were you planning to wait until she came to you crying, bleeding, and in pain? Or did you think Prince Maekar would remarry and such things would be for his wife to deal with?”

“I… I didn’t think anything. I’m sorry my lady, please don’t send me away,” Septa Mycella pleaded.

“I will not. I have no wish to change so many things for the girls so soon. I will speak with Daella in the morning,” Elinor said.

When Elinor went back to her chambers, Daeron was there awaiting her.

“Where did you go?” Daeron asked.

“I needed to speak with your father about Daella and Rhae’s tutoring, it ought to be more well rounded,” Elinor said, “And Septa Mycella has not told Daella about flowering.”

“Well, you’ll sort it out, I’m sure,” Daeron said.

Elinor changed into one of her new nightgowns, a pale blue silk edged with lace. It was much lower cut than anything she’d worn as a maiden, and it clung to her waist and hips. It was also much shorter than even her other new nightgowns, the hem hit her at about mid thigh.

Daeron looked at her lustfully, “You said your mother had these made for you? I’ve seen whores more covered up than this.”

“She wants a grandchild,” Elinor said, “She said my nightgowns needed to be enticing now.”

“She could have given you no nightgowns, you coming to our bed naked every night would be just as enticing, if not more,” Daeron said.

“I think she was worried you might continue your activities in brothels, and that I might need to steal you away from them,” Elinor said.

“Perhaps before I met you,” Daeron said, “I thought briefly after our wedding that I might continue as I had before.”

“What changed your mind?” Elinor asked.

“That first night, after my dream. You listened, you didn’t tell me to forget about it or brush it off. You might not believe that it will come true, but you listened. That, and you came so happily to bed every night after our wedding,” Daeron said.

“It feels good and I like being that close to you,” Elinor shrugged.

“Is it too much to hope you want it tonight?” Daeron asked.

Elinor opened her mouth, and a yawn escaped instead of an answer.

“Perhaps in the morning,” she said, pulling back the covers and sliding under them. Daeron changed into a pair of breeches that ended above his knee, and climbed into bed beside her. She turned to him, “You aren't naked. Every other time we've shared a bed, you have slept naked.”

“Daella and Rhae have a habit of climbing into my bed when they have a nightmare, regardless of whether or not I am in it,” Daeron said, “I cannot tell you how many times I stumbled in from a night at the tavern to find one or both of them here. After it became clear they were not going to stop, I started wearing these to sleep when under the same roof as my sisters.”

Elinor frowned, “Will they still do it now that you have a wife? Should I change into something more modest?”

“They probably will, and don't you dare change,” Daeron said, “It's not so often anymore, now that they're older. Mayhaps once a moon or so, one of them wanders in.”

They climbed into bed, and tangled themselves around each other. When Elinor’s head was tucked against Daeron’s shoulder and sleep began to tug at her, she spoke up. “What would you have named your dragon, if your egg had hatched?”

“Onqēlos”, he said, “It means morning star in High Valyrian.”

“It's beautiful,” Elinor said, tracing her fingers over the lines of his bare chest. Daeron did not need to tell her where the name had come from.

“I didn't think I would like it,” Daeron said, “Sleeping next to someone, but I do. It's nice having someone warm and soft beside me.”

“Leona and I slept in the same bed sometimes, especially during winter,” Elinor said, “She’d basically move into my room for those years, our maids would have to drag us out of bed in the morning. We were so warm and toasty under the covers.”

“I suppose that's different than having pesky little sisters turn up in your bed,” Daeron said.

“I think it's sweet,” Elinor said.

“I did too, until the first time I woke up hard and one of them was in bed with me,” Daeron said, “Don’t look so scandalized, I had been having a very pleasant dream for once.”

“What did you do?” Elinor asked.

“I snuck out into the solar and took care of it,” Daeron said, “Shame to waste such a lovely dream.”

“What did you dream of?” Elinor asked.

“A beautiful woman, riding me like the Lord of the Seven Hells was after her,” Daeron said. Elinor giggled.

“I don't know if I rode you that hard,” Elinor said.

“No, you were gentle and sweet and wonderful. Perhaps in the morning you can try riding me like the woman in my dream, if you want,” Daeron said, smiling serenely, “That would be a lovely way to wake up, already inside you, sun streaming through your hair.”

Elinor’s eyelids felt heavy, and she struggled to keep them open. She nosed at the line of his jaw, and pressed her mouth to his. Their lips moved slowly, lazily against each other. Elinor lay her head back down, nuzzling into Daeron’s shoulder contentedly, and let sleep claim her.

Elinor woke, her head pillowed on Daeron’s chest. In her sleep, she had draped a leg over his and her hand was resting on his stomach. As her vision came into focus, she felt as though someone had dumped cold water over her when she realized there was someone else in bed with them. Daeron’s arm kept her place, and Elinor calmed enough to realize that his other arm was draped over Daella. She had curled up into his other side, and was whimpering in her sleep.

Elinor reached out, almost without thinking, and stroked her hair. Daella relaxed under her touch, and after a little bit, her nightmare passed. Elinor drifted off too, hand still in Daella’s hair. When Elinor woke again, her hand was on Daeron’s chest, and Daella was already awake, big purple eyes staring at her. Daeron was still asleep between them, bare chest rising and falling as his soft breaths filled the room.

“Good morning,” Elinor whispered.

“Good morning,” Daella whispered back.

“Do you want to have tea with me?” Elinor whispered. Daella nodded, and they carefully extricated themselves from Daeron’s arms. Elinor wrapped a robe around herself, trying to hide the nightgown from Daella. She was not successful.

“Aren't you cold in that?” Daella said as they crept out of the bedroom.

“I'm married,” Elinor said, “I have Daeron to keep me warm.”

Daella sat on one of the faded plush chairs in the solar, and Elinor asked one of the guards out in the hall to fetch them some tea and biscuits. It was early enough that the sun was just rising over the horizon. The servants would be up by now, and the cooks would be preparing breakfast. The door opened again, and a maid came in, with a tea tray laden with biscuits and sweets and a steaming teapot.

Elinor thanked her, and sent her back to her duties. She poured for both Daella and herself, as the girl munched on one of the biscuits.

“You seem nice,” Daella said.

“I try to be,” Elinor replied.

“Rhae thinks you're here to replace our mother,” Daella said.

Elinor sighed, “I thought that might be the case.”

“I’m here because I'm Daeron’s wife. I'm supposed to love him, take care of him, and have his children. Because your father has no wife, I'm supposed to take care of Summerhall too. That includes looking after you and Rhae, to a certain extent,” Elinor said, “But I'm not here to replace your mother. I’d like to be your older sister, if I could.”

“I’d like that too,” Daella said, “Do you love Daeron?”

“I don't think we know each other well enough yet. But I think I will. He doesn't seem hard to love.”

“Do you know when Egg is coming back?”

“No, and I don't know when Aerion is coming back either.”

“Rhae doesn't want you to have a baby. She's used to being the youngest, and if you have a baby then she won't be anymore.”

“Rhae will always be the youngest of your father's children. Do you know how babies are made, Daella?” Elinor asked.

“No, are you going to tell me?” she asked.

“Not today. You know that men and women have different parts between their legs, right?” Elinor asked.

Daella nodded, “I’ve seen Daeron naked a few times. Sometimes he gets too drunk and forgets to put his breeches on before bed.” Elinor was suddenly struck with an image of herself wrestling a pair of breeches onto Daeron, drunk and splayed out on their bed. It would be funnier if she wasn't nearly certain that it would come to pass.

“Women also have a special part of their body inside of them, called a womb. That is where babes grow. They come out of your body through your womanly parts,” Elinor said, it was a version of the talk her mother had given her when she was about Daella’s age, “When your body is grown up enough to grow a child, your moonblood will come. You will bleed once a month for about a week or so, from that place between your legs. I’ll show you how to wear a rag in your smallclothes to catch it. Your moonblood is a sign that you are able to bear children, though the maesters believe it is good to wait a few years for the body to settle before marriage. The moonblood is often accompanied by cramping, and other afflictions. Your first moonblood is called your flowering, and it is likely to happen in the next few years.”

“Will it hurt?” Daella asked.

“Yes, but there are things you can do to lessen it, hot stones, milk of the poppy in extreme cases,” Elinor said.

“When did you flower?” she asked.

“I was twelve,” Elinor replied, “My marriage was not even discussed until this year, and I will turn seven and ten next month. You have plenty of time.”

“I'm supposed to marry Egg. We're not officially betrothed or anything, but everyone says that we will be,” Daella said.

“Do you want to marry Egg?”

“Not really, he’s gross and he wants to be a Kingsguard anyway. Did you want to marry Daeron?”

“Yes, I did.”

Daella smiled at that, “That's good.”

“I see you’ve stolen my bride,” Daeron said. He kissed Elinor on the cheek, and ruffled Daella’s hair.

“Just borrowing her,” Daella said.

“All of you are always borrowing my things,” Daeron said.

“I bring them back, most of the time,” Daella said.

There was a knock at the door, and Elinor called for whoever it was to come in. Septa Mycella appeared, already dressed for the day.

“My prince, my lady, I’m so sorry for the intrusion. Daella, we must get you dressed for breakfast,” Septa Mycella said. Daella hopped off the couch, and stole another biscuit before taking her septa’s hand and walking back down the hall.

“What do you think?” Daeron asked.

“Of what?”

“Everything.”

Elinor pondered for a moment, “I think we could all be happy here, someday.”

After breakfast and morning prayers, Elinor sat down in the solar to write some letters while Maekar met with Ser Caron. She would need to get a proper desk, but the low table in front of the couch would do for now. After rummaging through her still-packed trunks, Elinor found the little box with her quill, ink, scrolls, and her green sealing wax and rose signet ring. She placed the warmer over the candle, slotted the spoon in place, and filled it with wax. First she wrote to her mother.

We made it to Summerhall safely, the castle is lovely and everyone here has been quite welcoming. I did meet a distant relation of ours, Lady Tya Lannister at Storm’s End. She and her husband Gowen are expecting their first child. Daeron and I are getting along well. His youngest sister Rhae reminds me a little of Rosamund, both very rambunctious. I miss you dearly, give Father and Garth my love.

She rolled up the paper, wrote her mother’s name on the outside, and poured a little wax to seal it, pressing her ring into the molten green. While that cooled, she wrote her second letter, to Leona.

Summerhall is nice enough, but it’s no Highgarden. They don’t even have any roses in their garden! There’s no godswood either, and the sept is positively plain compared to the one at home. I did learn something that might interest you, the septon here is named Mervyn, and apparently he and Septa Tansy knew each other at Oldtown. Daeron made a rather lewd suggestion about how well they might have known each other, but Septa Tansy would never. Daeron’s sisters are darling, but I know I’ll have my hands full with them. Rhae seems determined to not like me and Daella crawled into bed with us last night. I suspect their septa isn’t very clever, Daella is ten and the woman hadn’t told her about flowering. They also weren’t taking any riding or hawking lessons. Anyway, I am happy enough, though I miss you all. Mayhaps in a few months I can convince Maekar to let me take on some ladies in waiting…

With the first letter sealed, Elinor poured another dollop of wax onto Leona’s letter and sealed that one as well. The last letter was the one she was least sure about, but she had promised.

Lady Kiera, it was so lovely to meet you in King’s Landing. I must thank you for being so kind to me. Coming to court at such a time was more nerve-wracking than I expected, but your company made it easier. The journey south was not so bad, the weather was kind to us more often than not. Daeron and I hunted with Ser Lyonel Baratheon at Storm’s End, the man has the soul of a mummer. Although he seems like he may have a decent heart underneath the flamboyance. I must also thank you for your advice the morning after my wedding, it has been quite helpful. How are things at the Red Keep? I hope you and Valarr are well.

Elinor sealed her last letter and once they were all properly addressed, she took them to the rookery above Maester Melaquin’s chambers and added them to the letters to be sent. Then, she went out into the gardens, and picked a few of the flowers, just enough to make a bouquet. There was still one person she had yet to meet.

Elinor climbed the little hill in the garden, up to the oak tree, flowers in hand. Beneath the tree, there was a gravestone, grey and little weathered. HERE LIES LADY DYANNA OF HOUSE DAYNE, it said. The sword and falling star of House Dayne graced her stone, as did six little dragons. Elinor knelt, and laid the flowers on the grave.

“Good morning, Lady Dyanna,” Elinor started, “My name is Elinor Tyrell. I’m married to Daeron. I suppose you already know that, from watching over your children. I am sorry we could not meet in person. I would have liked to know you, to learn from you. I know you’ll always watch over them, but I’m going to do my best to take care of Daella and Rhae. I don’t think there’s anything I can do to help Aemon or Aegon, not while they’re so far away. I’ll be a good wife to Daeron, I promise. I’ll love him, and I’ll ease his burden however I can.” Elinor hoped that wherever Lady Dyanna was in the seven heavens, she could hear her.