Chapter Text
“How much did she take again?” Aemond sighed.
A small sneer was curled on his lips as he gently toyed with the small orb that sat atop the council table. His eyes flickered to the girl who knelt on the floor, tears streaming down her face as she wept for what was likely to happen to her.
The girl, a simple maidservant who had served the queen under the watchful eye of the Lady Genevieve, was now the subject of the King’s attention. A most ... uncomfortable attention.
The King’s gaze was intense and unforgiving, his ice blue eye clicked up, nailing the Lord Hand with a hard look. He thought he was being generous letting his wife misbehave, letting her leave the Red Keep, she would have the guards and Genevieve always watching- but no- no, Laviniya just had to take something with her.
And she was not to blame.
The Kings eye trailed across the table. His lips tightly pinched together.
The Master of Coin, Tyland Lannister shifted uncomfortably under the weight of the King’s glare, licking his lips nervously before clearing his throat and answering the question.
“Three hundred gold dragons,” he said, his voice shaking slightly. The King’s expression darkened at the words, his jaw clenched. The rest of the room was silent, everyone waiting with baited breath to see what the King would say next. He exhaled.
“Three hundred gold dragons.” Aemond repeated the number with a sharp, sarcastic edge to his voice.
“And this girl just... walked into the treasury and took this?” He fixed his gaze on Lord Tyland, waiting for an explanation.
Lord Tyland bit his lip nervously, his hands fidgeting with the edges of his sleeves as he struggled to find the right words to respond, “We trusted that Lady Doria here was acting in good faith with her Majesty.”
Aemond’s face remained impassive, but his tone took on a sharp and hissing quality as he spoke. “Lady Doria should not have been serving her Majesty in the first place,” he said, his words dripping with contempt. “And any reasonable person would have questioned the sanity of allowing someone to take such a exorbitant amount of coin be that a maid servant or the Queen herself.”
“Your Grace,” interjected Ser Martyn, the Lord Hand’s defender, “She is but a mere girl, and who is she to question the new queen’s expense budgeting?”
The King’s jaw twitched at these words, anger flashing across his face as he turned his gaze on Ser Martyn. “Are you suggesting that the queen’s spending is beyond reproach?” he challenged, his voice low and dangerous. “That no one should question the wisdom of allowing hundreds of gold dragons to go missing?”
Ser Martyn’s lips pursed tightly together as he held out his cup for the pretty bastard wearing a scarf on her head to refill with wine. “Her Majesty has often been an enigma, your grace,” he said, his tone cautious and uncertain. “Perhaps her intentions are good, but I do not recall a budget for her purse being discussed.”
Tyland Lannister shifted uncomfortably in his seat and mumbled under his breath, “It has not, my lord.”
The King’s frown deepened at these words, his irritation growing. “And yet she has seen fit to take hundreds of gold dragons without any justification?”
The Lion cowered beneath the dragons spitting rage.
Aemond felt a soft hand on his shoulder. His eyes glanced up to the beautiful lady Vivienne, enchanting and mischievous, but now devoting her time to correct her behaviour.
“Lord Lannister is loyal to you Sire, he would never defy the Targaryen name,” she dared to say.
Ser Martyn’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, his finger tapping impatiently on the rim of his chalice. However, the bald bitch had not yet refilled it with wine.
Vivienne continued, her tone suggesting an understanding of the situation, “Her Majesty still adjusts to her role,” she said. “She simply needs your wise counsel, my King, to help her see her mistake in this matter.”
A low rumble of agreement filled the room, many council members nodding in agreement with her words.
Aemond’s gaze remained fixed on the face of the woman before him, his eyes tracing every feature, studying her expression.
Aemond’s voice was low and deliberate, almost a murmur. “The consequences for her majesty will be severe,” he said. “Lord Hand,” he addressed Ser Martyn, “I trust you to attend to my matters in my absence.”
The King stood abruptly from the table and marched towards the doors. As he did so, Ser Martyn and Tyland Lannister exchanged a nervous glance, with the latter daring to ask the former in a hushed whisper, “Where is his Grace heading?”
Aemond’s response, however, was loud and clear, his white hair billowing behind him as he shouted back, “To fetch my wife!”
His face was set in a hard expression, but if you looked closely you could see a hint of a smirk lurking behind the steely mask of his features. Laviniya was proving to be quite the delightful distraction in these past few weeks. Suddenly, his thoughts returned to the three hundred gold dragons and what she could possibly be up to. Was she planning another escape? Or perhaps she was preparing to finance a coup plot?
---
Laviniya stood on the raised dais, towering over the crowd of people before her. They were a motley group, dressed in rags and covered in dirt and filth. Some were crippled, others old and weary. They all stared up at her with a mix of awe and suspicion, their faces etched with contempt and curiosity.
Her nose tried not the wrinkle at the smells and dank heat of the street. The world around her smelt of piss and shit and hot waves of salt blew in from the breeze, carrying the stench of dirty sex and animals in mud. She could hardly breathe. She never thought a city could smell worse than the sheep of the Vale whom she watched over the emerald hills.
Did they know who she was? Could they see her fathers face beneath her silver hair that peaked out from her gable hood and through her amethyst eyes. Did they see the ghost of Daemon Targaryen through her? Did they sense the cursed blood that coursed in her veins?
Did they see her crumbling sanity? Did they see her clawing and gripping at the edges of her mind to remain herself? Could they see her fighting the vomit rising in her throat.
No. None of it.
To the commoners gathered before her, she was a sight to behold. A strange and beautiful creature who seemed to have come from another world. Her dark clothes were finer than anything they could ever hope to own or even touch, a shade of cinnamon that they had never tasted. Even her very presence seemed to exude a sense of power and regality, marking her as a true lady. A lady covered in bronze chains.
Laviniya couldn’t deny that she felt quite out of place among these commoners, their gazes lingering on portions of her for far longer than was appropriate.
She could not believe it at first, how she had this harsh tugging at her chest. Laviniya was unable to admit truthfully to herself how she missed the familiar surroundings of the Red Keep, where the servants and castle folk were trained to look away after a brief glance. Here, she was a curiosity, an object of their fascination and scrutiny, and she could feel their eyes on her, making her feel even more alien and exposed.
This is what it was like in the Red Keep at first, she had to remind herself. Her isolation had brought it’s toll on her mind.
Laviniya’s eyes flicked briefly towards her silver-haired companion, Lady Genevieve, who stood behind her to the left, seemingly unbothered by the spectacle they were creating. Then she noticed that even her own trusted knights had formed a protective wall around her, their gleaming silver shields and snowy white capes creating a barrier between her and the curious gaze of the commoners. She couldn’t help but feel a mixture of both annoyance and gratitude towards them.
Lady Genevieve stood by the side of the knight Gilbar, both of them unsure of what Queen Laviniya intended to say or do.
The queen herself stood like a shining jewel amidst the filth of Flea Bottom, a lone beacon of beauty and elegance in contrast to the squalor around her. The commoners, with their dull and dirty clothes, seemed to fade into the background compared to her radiant presence.
“I am...” Laviniya began, her voice trembling slightly as she took in the sight of the curious peasants gathering around her. Looking around her, she saw tired, exhausted faces, their eyes filled with sadness and despair. She couldn’t find any trace of hope or comradery among them, only exhaustion and resignation. Her gaze shifted back towards the Red Keep in the distance, and she shook her head slowly, a mixture of frustration and helplessness filling her heart. The many ages, weathering and suffering all because her husband won the dance of dragons.
Her eyes of lilac fell upon a squealing infant in the arms of boy, no older than Jaehaera. Her chest swelled. This was wrong. This was I just.
She was disgusted by this city, she was disgusted by the men who ruled with an iron fist, strangling the people chain to it, enslaved while pretending they had a semblance of freedom.
Her lips parted, her chest deflated.
With greatness, comes the challenge to be met and a price to pay. Laviniya knew in that moment that she would not dictate a speech like her dragonlord forbears would have.
Instead, she wanted to speak like her mother would have, to channel her wisdom and compassion. And as she thought of her mother, she could almost hear her words: “We Remember.”
Laviniya was not just a Targaryen, but also a Royce, and those words held a deep significance to her.
Take their house words however you desire, dear reader, but in that moment as she looked at the sea of poor and putrid peasants, she remembered that the lowest class was the strongest of all. And that they had never experienced the privileged life of comforts she had in the Runestones.
She remembered that despite being kidnapped and forced to marry a man, a tyrant who her heart leaped for against all odds- she could show mercy.
“My name matters not, but that I have seen the people of Kings Landing and felt grief in my heart for your loss and misery since the dance of the Dragons. Know that you have not been forgotten by those on high.”
The people’s heads tilted and some of their brows raised, Laviniya waved her hand to the chest beside her feet. She unlocked the chest and walked down from the dais to the people. She was glowing. In no need off a hand to escort her. She pushed through the knights guarding her.
She beckoned with soft strength, “Bring forth the little children, the babes and young of our flock. A gift has come to them from the Crown.”
The first child to approach was a little girl, clutching a tattered rag doll in one hand and her thumb in her mouth. Laviniya was struck by how frail and thin she looked, much thinner than any child she had ever seen in the Vale. Her sunken cheeks and sharp cheekbones were a stark contrast to the healthy children she was used to seeing. The girl’s red hair was caked in dirt and grime, and her mother stood nearby, heavily pregnant and looking equally weary and worn.
“Thankyou, my lady,” said the woman with a tired smile, “Whoever sent you is kindest. Who do we owe thanks?”
The queen, who was glad her identity was still concealed stepped forward and grabbed the woman’s shoulders.
“His majesty, Aemond Targaryen is to be blessed. I am merely his servant as you are.”
The pregnant woman broke out into a weeping grin. And to the people’s amazement, Laviniya hugged with wailing mother. Her skirts and bodice rubbed with the filth of the people, her pale writs marred black by the mud on the woman’s clothes.
They parted with joy, Laviniya had given this woman gentle love. She and her daughter departed through the crowd with smiles. None dared rob them, the innocence, lest face the wrath of numbers from their own people.
As Laviniya knelt by each tiny hand and pressed a coin into their grasp, to the poor and starving, her heart ached at the sight of their emaciated bodies and the desperation in their eyes. But each left with a glimmer in their lifeless gazes.
How could her husband, the King, or any other monarch or lord allow such extreme poverty to exist in their realm? Her desire to bring charity and relief to these poor, weak, and desperate people increased with each coin she handed out, her compassion for their plight growing stronger every moment.
Some had shared their worries, many could not pay their taxes and meet their rents.
Laviniya spent her entire afternoon at the bottom of the dais, dispensing coins one by one to the children who reached her. When all was said and done, she had handed out one gold dragon to three hundred children who had not yet reached their fourteenth summer. The children’s eyes sparkled as they clutched their newly acquired wealth, their joy at having been granted money by a pretty lady with white hair making them forget their hunger and their wretched lives for a short while.
As the last gold dragon was given away, Laviniya couldn’t help but feel a pang of desperation. Not because she felt sad at parting with the gold – on the contrary, she felt a deep sense of satisfaction in their giving – but because the wealth was spent and there were still children who had not gained anything.
She removed her rings.
“My lady,” Genevieve lightly protested, pressing towards her, her hand grinned Laviniyas shoulder tightly, “You mustn’t,” she whispered, “These rings are-”
“Mine,” said the young queen, “To do as I wish with them, and I will gladly grant these forsaken with mercy that they’ve not seen or perhaps even met before.” She held up her hand with one last ring on one finger, “A ring cannot serve me, cannot help me, cannot protect me, unlike the loyalty and love of a servant who devotes themselves at the mercy of their masters.” Her lilac eyes burned with fierce sternness.
Laviniya turned her face to the people struck in awe by her words. She smiled. She knew what her lady in waiting was warning- she knew that when she returned to the Red Keep, consequences would be awaiting her, sharp, stinging, biting consequences.
“The king in his generosity, has commanded my merciful generosity at all costs,” she lied, “Giving all my precious jewels and metals be that of his kindness and thoughtfulness that has often gone forgotten and misplaced.”
So this she removed the necklaces, bangles and earrings. Giving them to each child before she stripped herself of her shawl, her gablehood and her hairnet and jewel crowned hairpins.
Her long, white mane cascaded down her back. At the sight of her, the people gasped in awe, for they now had seen her true form for the very first time.
“She’s a Valyrian,” she heard them whisper and others saying, “I knew that, her eyes your idiot, they’re full of magic, purple.”
She appeared bare to the clueless. A dull woman; pretty, but nothing of flourish importance. Yet to the smallfolk who had just borne witness to the hour of her charity, she was heavenly- an angel of the seven. And after seeing her hair, undoubtedly she would fill their prayers at night along with the lonely early morning thoughts.
Ser Gilbar stood closer to her, his voice soft yet firm as he leaned in to whisper in her ear. “My Lady,” he said, “I must insist that it is time for us to depart. Any longer stays, and I fear that unsavory individuals will welcome you.”
His blunt words took Laviniya aback, and she found herself hesitating to agree with him. How could she leave behind these poor, starving souls knowing that she could help them with more of her possessions?
She shook her head, “No, no, I will walk among them, I will talk among them,” she held her finger up and wagged, “I will hear their plights. They will be heard. And I will not return back to his majesty until it is right.”
Her head snapped back to the crowds, “You shall be heard!”
They looked perplexed. Their silence worried her.
“How has this great city fought and won for by a great king fall into great turmoil? Please, dear people of Kings Landing, let me hear your voices, let me listen and learn and understand. His majesty yearns to help his citizen whom he cherishes dearly.”
Many stared at the knights, their presence was too intimidating. Laviniya now saw the subtle power her husband held even over the people of Flea Bottom. They couldn’t even share their discomfort openly without fear. One wrong word could take their life or the lives of their families.
Fear breeds fear, but it can ferment and fester over time. Aemond no longer had a dragon, and he was losing the faith of the people and he didn’t even know it- who would fight against a mob when the soldiers, the fighters and even king’s guard were of the mob?
She shook her head. She moved forward, she pushed herself through the people who stood around her, protests came from the Ser Gilbar and Lady Genevieve.
Very little did the queen care for the disruption she was starting. The knight and lady missed each time they attempted to grab her arm or hand.
Laviniya strutted through the people as they unconsciously moved as not to dirty her any further.
She glared at them, she snarled, no longer the pretty kind angel, but an angry woman. She paused in front of a grand fountain. It was cracked, stained and dry, it was entrapped with dead vines, covering the beautiful stone dragon masterpiece at its centre. She climbed inside, the people were shocked.
“She’s gone mad,” one man laughed to another.
Her nails dug into stone, tearing away at the loose dirt and weeds about the mouth and snout. She huffed, the water spout was long dried up. She looked across the walls, more dry spouts. The ground beneath was caked in mud, unmoving, blocked, with nowhere to go. Her slippers were ruined. The drains and funneling water had been blocked up. Not gutters could perform their crafted duty.
“Ho-how long has this fountain been dry?” she panted.
They continued their silence until one; a man with a pig tethered to a rope leash cleared his throat, “The waters stopped the day Aegon the Idle took the throne, my lady.”
Laviniya could not believe her ears. Fury consumed her. Aemond should have fixed this. Someone at that stupid table of nobles should have fixed this. She was angry. Thirsty for justice.
“Rents, taxes and feed all at an economic high, and where is the gold to show for it? Where is the returns to be made to better the people!?” she shouted at the top of her lungs.
The Lady Genevieve gasped with horror.
It was then that silence had been broken, gossip truly returned to the air. Men nodded, agreeing with the question. Their arms folded over their chest.
White tendrils from Laviniya’s head flew like a flag in the wind.
---
Among the cramped space filled with a wide array of glass jars, wooden crates, and woven baskets a woman of nearly a centuries age stood.
Hanging from the low ceiling were bundles of drying herbs and flowers, their scent infusing the air.
The shelves lining the walls were brimming with an assortment of fragrant herbs, dried roots, and minerals.
A long wooden counter separated the shopkeeper from Madam Mara.
“Watcha want then, eh?” asked the shopkeeper gruffly.
The ancient eyes shifted about the shelves, her wrinkled lips curling up, “Wild carrot and red clover. If you’ve got it.”
They tilted their head at her, “Ain’t you a bit old for them?”
Her smirk fell. Her loose skin beneath her chin wiggled. “It isn’t any of your business what I do with it. Mind your manners!”
As the shopkeeper scoffed before gathering the ingredients, a commotion of shouts caught Mara’s attention behind the front door that led out to the putrid streets.
---
“I say, enough is enough! His grace will hear your cries!”
“Yea! He will!”
“He better!”
There was shouting and clapping and cheering to the young lady who stood up beside the dragon fountain, covered in dirt and pink in the face.
Laviniya looked down across them and the kingsguard who now appeared uncomfortable, their tense expressions copied each other. Peaking out between the squalor was a old familiar face.
Madam Mara was smiling beneath a dark hooded cloak, holding a basket, she waved to the queen, beckoning her down.
Leaping from the sculpture to the bottom of the fountain, she climbed over the lip of the stone bed and leant down to offer her ear to her wise and strong willed elder.
What she heard however gave her recoil.
“Do you wish to start an insurrection, child? Enough of this now. Return to the Red Keep.”
The queen shook her head in disbelief. Mara slowly turned on her heel and left, weaving away through the sea of people gathered.
Before Laviniya could even make an unwise decision to remain further and goad the mobs, a noise startled the pigeons to take flight into the air.
The loud honking of a rams horn filled the street, followed quickly by the clacking sound of horses' hooves against the cobblestones.
Aemond arrived, astride a white mare, and the commoners who had been gathering around Laviniya immediately bowed their heads in reverence to him. They all began to loudly praise and pray to the "dragon king" in their own way, their voices blending together in a chorus of adoration and devotion.
The King paid no heed to his subjects, his eye was hard on his bride. He jumped from the horses back onto the fountain edge, grabbing her roughly by the arm and forced her up to climb onto the same saddle. He glared over at Lady Genevieve and the queen’s knight.
“Ser Gilbar, return the Lady Genevieve back to the red Keep, make sure she reports to the Lord Hand.”
Laviniyas eyes widened, her head snapped back to see Genevieve escorted by her guard. The other white cloak kingguards climbed their horses.
The people of fleabottom followed and declared their love and praise to the king for the mercy shown to their children. The space was too crowded for the pair to move before the knights began clearing and yelling for a path to be made for the horses.
As the unorganised procession proceeded forward, his hot lips hissed into her pink ear, “What stunt are you playing today my sweet? Trying to buy their love?”
Laviniya dug her nails into his gloves hand and grit her teeth into a smile, “I am giving their children the chance to not starve. You said it yourself Aemond ‘the small folk really are only loyal to things like money and power.’”
Her husband glanced across the wave of peasants that the horse sailed slowly through like a bobbing boat. They were glad to see him. Did they even know her name? Not once did he hear them call out to his sweet Laviniya.
His lips grew tight, “You give them stolen coin and they lack the courtesy to thank you?”
That is when she giggled, “I gave them gold and jewellery and you’re displeased they’re happily praising you?”
He grew silent. Unable to reply to her. All he could think of was that laughter, how he had not heard it for a time. He wanted to hear it again soon.
He smiled. Raising his hand he waved to the people that passed. The crowd grew boisterous and excited, their volumes increased and cheering exalted him.
The people had shown him their love and favour before but never had he witnessed them carrying on as joyfully as this. He knew in his heart, Laviniya was to be thanked and not punished. But she had still stolen from the crown. What was he meant to do with her?
