Chapter Text
Laena is a restless child. She hates to sit still and won’t without a big fuss unless it’s on Grandmother’s lap. Grandmother lets Laena pull her purple shawl over herself so it hangs over both their shoulders as if Laena were wearing it too. Purple is a poor descriptor of the shawl. It is purple silk shot through with gold thread, delicate whorls of beautiful blackwork depict scenes from a hundred different tales. Corlys has bought his mother a hundred fold gifts of greater value since but this, a gift from Grandfather on their first anniversary, remains her favorite.
It is Laena’s favorite too. She strokes the shiny silk, traces figures and shapes, and twists the tassels around her fingers while she listens.
Grandmother tells her stories, never the same one again unless Laena asks for one of her favorites. Some of the tales Grandmother tells are ones Laena’s nurse tells too though when Grandmother tells them, there’s always a distinct Grandmother flavor to them that Laena adores. Some of Grandmother’s stories are stories only she can tell.
“What was Grandfather like?” Laena asks. She only knows of her grandfathers from Grandmother’s stories and a little of what Mother tells her. Grandmother Jocelyn tells stories too but talking of Grandfather Aemon makes her sad.
“Was he like Father?” She adds, rolling a tassel around her pinky finger.
Grandmother pauses to consider. “Some might say so, I think, at first glance. But your father is uncommonly ambitious for a firstborn son. Corwyn encouraged that. He was less so for himself. When the Shivers came, both your father and I fell ill for a time and your grandfather worried greatly over us. After that, well, a brush with death will make other things seem unimportant. Though of course the Shivers also brought your grandfather unexpected gifts, most notably the expectation of Lord of the Tides in the future. He put Corlys in Prince Aemon’s retinue where he might make influential friends and connections. And wasn’t he repaid beyond his highest imaginings. I think he thought to have Jocelyn for Corlys at first though.”
Laena pulls a fistful of Grandmother’s shawl over her head. “Boring!” She declares.
Grandmother stops. Laena is not supposed to tell adults that things are boring, certainly not without prompting. Grandmother never tells on her though.
Grandmother chuckles. “You are right, my Laena. This is not a story and you asked me for a story. Forgive an old woman her ramblings. Do you still wish for a story about your grandfather or should I tell you something different?”
Laena pulls the shawl down off her head. “I want a story about me and Grandfather! Please.” She adds on.
Grandmother strokes Laena’s hair. “I can’t tell you a story about you and your grandfather but what if I told you two tales, one about your grandfather and one about you?”
Laena scrunches her face up in thought and then nods in agreement.
“And can I brush out your hair while you listen?”
“Can I wear your shawl?”
“Of course.”
“Then, yes!” Laena claps her hands. She climbs off Grandmother’s lap and settles herself on the small stool Grandmother sets out for her.
Grandmother lifts the shawl off her shoulders and drapes it carefully over Laena. On the little girl it has more the appearance of a magnificent and elaborate cloak than a shawl.
“Once upon a time, many years there was a handsome young man—”
“Grandfather!”
“Yes, it was he. A handsome young man who wished to ask for the hand of a beautiful young woman—”
“Was that you, Grandmother?” Laena asks.
“Listen and you’ll see. The handsome young man wished to ask for the hand of a beautiful young woman with whom he’d fallen deeply in love. This maiden had many suitors and so when the young man declared his love to her, she simply tossed her hair and asked him what he would do to prove it and what he would give her as a gift. The young man was dismayed for as a second son, he had very little of his own—”
“Grandfather wasn’t a second son, was he?” Laena interrupts.
“He was, sweet one. His elder brother died during the Shivers. As I was saying, as a second son, he had very little of his own to offer any potential bride. He said as much to the object of his love, having thought love would be enough to live on. Let that be a lesson to you, my Laena, love is good and well but you can’t live on love alone. The maiden shrugged one shoulder elegantly.
‘Then you shan’t be my husband. And it's no use talking to my father about it, he doesn’t want a goodson who won’t bring any advantages to the match.’
The young man went away and he thought and thought but still he could not think of anything he could do that would change the mind of his love and her father.
Presently, he went to his mother with his troubles and poured out the whole story to her welcome ear. His mother did not think much of his lady love. She did not think the young woman would be a good match for her son. Wisely she kept these thoughts to herself and laid out for her son two possibilities. Either he could give up on seeking the hand of this woman and find someone who would accept what he had to offer or he could go to seek his fortune.
Her son chose the second. He sought out a ship leaving for Pentos and signed on as the second mate. He kissed his mother and sisters goodbye and promised he would return.
The young man was gone for several years. He rose up to become first mate and then eventually captained his own ship. He acquired wealth too—”
“That is like Father!” Laena bursts out.
“Yes, it is like your father but Corwyn never went as far as your father nor amassed as much wealth as your father. It’s vulgar to discuss money in crude terms like that but I suppose it’s alright if it stays just between us.”
“Well...Grandfather won’t know!” Laena says, tilting her head back to look up at Grandmother.
Grandmother blinks. “That is true. In any event, the young man did not know he would someday have a son who would outstrip all his accomplishments for he was not yet wed. To be wed to the lady of his choosing was the impetus of his journey. When he returned home, he brought with him gold, other treasure, and many gifts for all his family and for the woman he hoped would be his bride.
He discovered that in the time that he had been gone his intended had married another. All was not lost, however, for the young maiden had not been married a year before she had become a widow.
The man did not even let the sun set on his first day back home before he set sail in his ship and sailed through Blackwater Bay and up the Wendwater to dock just below her castle.
Night was falling and at first when the young man and his crew trumpeted their arrival, there was no response.
The men had to yell and shout at the top of their lungs and make a noisy racket. Finally they had to send the cabin boy up to the castle bearing a message scrawled in the captain’s own hand before the castle doors were unbarred for them.
When the young man entered the castle, his lady love greeted him clad in mourning black from head to toe.
By her side, her goodsister was dressed in black as well, though on her the look was somehow less austere even though she was plainer than the lady of the manor.
The widow was as courteous as custom demanded but not one inch more.
She offered them bread and salt and ale. Once they had eaten, she asked them why they had asked for her hospitality.
The captain doffed his hat and swept a gallant bow. ‘Once’, he said, ‘I counted myself amongst your suitors but had little but my name to offer you. I come to you now after having won my fortune. If you will have me.’
‘You were one of my suitors,’ the widow agreed. ‘But now I am a woman wed, bed, and widowed. Why have you come to me now?’
‘The choice to wed again is yours, my lady. It is my hope that you might choose to wed for love. I am still a second son but I have the wealth now to support a bride of your station.’
‘What will you give me?’ She asked again, preparing to rise and leave her guests.
‘Sister, let him speak his piece,’ the goodsister said, placing her hand on the arm of the widow.
The young man produced an exquisite golden bracelet of rubies and black opals worked in the Tyroshi style.
The widow fastened the bracelet to her wrist.
‘How lovely!’ Her sister exclaimed.
‘It is beautiful,’ the widow allowed. ‘But it is not enough to win my love.’
She bade them all goodnight and hastened out of the hall.
The goodsister expressed her apologies on the part of the lady of the house and bade them not hesitate to send for her if there was something she could do to improve their stay. Then she too strode from the hall.
The young man stayed for three fortnights and every night the same production. He came no closer to obtaining the hand of his love.
His love too was sorely tested. Although she accepted his gifts, the widow showed no interest in learning more of the man who would be her husband nor did she share her character with him. She spent her days in her rooms as much as she could manage. Her goodsister played the role of hostess so well that the young man and his men wanted for nothing but this could not conceal that she did not play the part she ought.
She spent her time walking and talking along the ramparts, in the gardens, and along the Wendwater with the young man.
He found her to be sweet and clever. From her mother she had learned to keep a household and accounts and from her brother she had learned to ride like a centaur. She loved her saltwater river and dreamed of travelling far. She listened to his tales of far away parts and told him stories in turn though she had never gone far from her home.”
“Oh!” Laena bounces on her little stool. “I know! You’re the goodsister!”
Grandmother looks down at her, hair brush in one hand. She puts the other hand on her hip. “Now how could you possibly know that?” She asks but she is smiling.
Laena claps her hands, delighted. “I’m a good listener!”
“Yes, you are.” Her grandmother agrees. “Soon it will be your turn to tell me tales. Shall I finish this one?”
“Oh yes!” Laena says. “You haven’t married Grandfather yet and he hasn’t given you this shawl yet. The tale isn’t over until then.”
“Is that right?” Grandmother laughs. “At the end of the three fortnights, the widow ended the night’s feast by saying, ‘You have been a most gallant and patient guest. Tell me true, is it still your dearest wish to have me for a wife?’
The young man hesitated and then declared, ‘Never let it be said that I am not a man of my word. I have pledged my suit and would have you for my bride—”
“No!” Laena gasps.
‘Stop,’ his lady love commanded. ‘Stop before you speak words you cannot unsay. As for myself, I have no desire to wed again. If it is still your dearest wish that we be wed, I will consent. But if there is any other to whom your heart might belong, I release you of your promise.’
The young man let out a deep sigh of relief. Bowing, he said, ‘I would not like to be thought inconstant, my lady, but it is true that another has become very dear to my heart.’
He knelt before the goodsister and said, ‘If it please you, I would have you for my bride. I will love no other while either of us walks the earth and I will spend my days
The goodsister cried and said—”
“How come she cried? I thought she was happy.” Laena interrupts.
“People cry sometimes when they are very happy, tears of happiness.” Her grandmother explains. “The goodsister cried and said it was her dearest wish too to be his bride should that not displease her goodsister.
The widow smiled, the first true smile that any had seen from her whilst under her roof, showing she was still as beautiful as ever when she was happy. ‘That is my dearest wish also!’ She exclaimed. ‘How lovely that we shall all have our wish.’
And so the young man and his bride were wed twice, once in a simple ceremony in the godswood beside the Wendswater with only the widow and the septon in attendance and once more in the young man’s family seat on an island in a beautiful ceremony.
The bride was not perhaps the choice her goodparents would have chosen. In her character they found no fault but the Wendwaters were not a particularly wealthy nor aged house. But then, the groom was a second son and a more advantageous match could be arranged for their firstborn.”
“Did Grandfather’s parents really think that?” Laena asks.
“They did.” Grandmother informs her. “The Velaryons are a proud, old house. They boast of their origin in Old Valyria and their close familial connection to the dragonlords. Corwyn’s father was sister to Queen Alyssa and their grandmother had been a Targaryen.”
“I’m glad you are my grandmother. I wouldn’t like anyone else half as much.” Laena says with great feeling.
Grandmother drops a kiss on her head. “Thank you, my Laena. That is lovely to hear.
The bride and groom set sail on their honeymoon voyage. They traveled to Pentos, to Tyrosh, and to Myr, where they saw many extraordinary things and where the young man bought many beautiful gifts for his wife. Gifts which were chosen not for the desire to please with extravagance and wealth but with the simple desire of expressing love.
The wife saw a beautiful purple shawl in one of the marketplaces they visited. It had beautiful designs done in black and was woven with golden thread. She wanted it dearly and asked the merchant who was selling it how much it would cost for him to be parted with it.
The price was so incredible she could not believe her ears and vowed not to mention it to her husband.
When he came up beside her moments later, she smiled at him and directed his attention to the next stall.
They returned to live with the husband’s family after a few months and cherished their new life together.
A year to the day of their marriage, that is, the first one in the godswood, the husband presented his wife with a wrapped parcel.
‘What is it?’ She exclaimed, surprised but happy.
‘Open it and see.’ He returned.
When she tore open the wrapping, she found folded carefully a most familiar object, a beautiful purple shawl with beautiful designs done in black and woven with golden thread.
She jumped up and embraced him. ‘Oh, I love it! I love it!’ She cried. ‘But how did you know? I never said. I was careful to never say! Oh, this is too much for just a shawl which will fade away with time! Even though it is the most beautiful garment I have ever seen. You shouldn’t have spent so much!’
‘I know you never said. You were too good to ask for such a thing but I saw your eyes shining as you looked at it, how long you lingered over it. As to the cost being too much, well, I assert my rights as your husband to spoil you as I please. May I remind you that I promised your goodsister that I would when I asked for your hand?’”
“And it was all true!” Laena says happily.
“Of course it was! My tales are always true.
Yes, not long after their anniversary the wife had the happy joy of sharing with her husband that she was pregnant. That babe was a son, the first of their children together, and they lived happily for the rest of their lives together but the important thing, Laena, is that they lived.
Would you like the second tale now?”
“Yes, please.” Laena says primly and crosses her hands together in her lap in a fairly good impression of her nurse.
Grandmother pinches her cheek. “Bad girl, it isn’t nice to make fun. Alright, how do we begin...ah, yes, once upon a time there was a very special little girl called Laena.”
“That’s me!” Laena squeals.
“Yes indeed. The little girl called Laena came from a very proud and important family but she was special even taking this into account. Her mother was a princess and her father was a sailor and she and her little brother were to be dragon riders even though they did not come from the dragon riding house.”
“Is that so special? In my lessons, there were other dragon riding houses.” Laena wants to know.
“Quite special. The rest of the dragon riding houses died with the Doom of Valyria and the Velaryons were never counted among them. Not even all of the King’s children were given dragon eggs. Princess Daella, who was mother to Lady Aemma who wed her cousin, Prince Viserys, was never given a dragon egg. Prince Vaegon who went to the Citadel is called the Dragonless.
You and your brother have dragon eggs of your own, note that none of your Velaryon cousins do and be sure they note and resent it too, thanks to your grandfather Prince Aemon who was meant to succeed the King.
Aemon meant Princess Rhaenys, your mother, to succeed him in turn and when she wed his friend, your father, he wrung from his father a promise that his daughter’s two eldest children would be granted dragon eggs of their own although they would not carry the name ‘Targaryen.’
I don’t doubt he would have done more if he’d known what was to come but his death was very sudden.
The gods like to poke fun at human planning, sometimes. But shall I continue with the story about you?” Grandmother asks.
“Yes!” Laena begs.
“The little girl became a dragon rider when she was little more than a girl when her dragon egg hatched. She loved to fly as she loved to ride and swim. She loved to ride with her brother and she loved to ride with her mother but she also loved to ride all by herself with her dragon. When she was old enough she flew on her dragon and she explored the world, going further than her grandfather and further than her father had ever gone. She saw incredible sights impossible to describe, strange people, odd creatures, fabulous plants. And someday maybe she wed and had children of her own but most importantly, she lived. She lived a rich, full life to a ripe old age. The end.”
“That story’s even better than the last because it’s about me and it’s true!” Laena says, dreamily.
After a few moments, she asks,“I’ve been good, haven’t I?”
“You have. You’re always good with me, my Laena.” Grandmother agrees.
“Could I have just one more story then?” Laena pleads.
“Just the one?” Grandmother asks.
“Only one!” Laena promises.
“Very well.” Grandmother begins. “Once upon a time.”
That’s how Nurse finds them, some time later, and she exclaims over Laena sitting still without fidgeting and letting her hair be brushed without screaming.
* * *
Laena is walking back to her room from her harp lesson when she comes across her brother sitting on the top of the stairs.
This is behavior very unlike her brother. Laenor is as placid and well behaved as Nurse would like Laena to be.
She would never expect to see him sitting on the stairs like some kind of street urchin.
“Why are you sitting there?” She asks, not hesitating to sit down beside him. “What is the matter?”
Laenor looks miserable. He hands her a glass object and indicates that she should hold it against the floor and put her ear to the other end.
Puzzled, Laena does. Muffled voices come into hearing. She can’t make out what they’re saying but they sound angry. A loud crash makes Laena jump and she realizes that she can hear the crash perfectly well with her own ears.
Laenor begins to cry. “I know not all marriages are happy.” He sobs. “But I thought Mother and Father loved each other! If they stop loving each other, maybe they’ll stop loving me!”
Laena reaches out and pulls her brother close. “Don’t worry.” She promises. “Mother and Father could never stop loving you. They love each other still, I think. It’s adult things that make them fight.”
She corrects herself. “Argues. That makes them argue, I mean. But Mother and Father and Grandmother and I will never stop loving you no matter what.”
Laenor sniffs. “If they have to fight, I wish they would do it quietly.” He complains.
Laena laughs. “That would not be very much like either of them!” She points out.
Laenor lets out a watery chuckle. “I suppose.”
“Come,” Laena coaxes. “Cook made apple cakes. You know you’re her favorite, if you ask she’ll let us have some and afterwards we can ask Grandmother for a story.”
“Okay.” Laenor acquiesces, wiping his eyes and nose on his sister’s sleeve.