Alysanne Targaryen (96 A.C. tenth moon)
Dragonstone sept
The sept of Dragonstone was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, the faint scent of salt drifting in from the nearby sea. Alysanne Targaryen sat quietly on a cushioned seat near the altar, her silver hair pinned back in intricate braids befitting her station. The ache in her hip was a constant reminder of her age, though she refused to let it mar this moment.
Gael had asked to wed here, on the Island where she spent much time in her youth. The separation from her husband caused that. She was grateful for the request; it was good for her health. She still felt pain in her hip when she had a busy day after she broke around a year ago. Traveling was more difficult, and flying much to her grief had become impossible.
Yet now, she didn't truly care. It was the fifth wedding of her own children she would attend. It could have been more if the world and gods didn't have other plans. To her right side sat Lyanna, her belly slowly growing with new life, clasping hands with her husband. Who was holding the toler Visenya, her eyes wide and scanning the sept with curiosity.
Beside them sat Aemon, his eyes always searching yet all-knowing. The boy was smarter than most children her age. Yet he was kind and probably had the most remarkable bond with a dragon in all Targaryen history.
Then her gaze swept up to the daise where her daughter's future husband stood. Baritmos Celtigar is the future lord of Crab Isle and the current wielder of Crab Piercer.
Then, her thoughts were broken as the doors of the sept were opened and her daughter and husband came walking into the sept. Then the herald announced to them, "His Grace, King Jaehaerys Targaryen, and Princess Gael Targaryen."
Gael looked, a vision of beauty and elegance. Her gown was a pristine white, shimmering like freshly fallen snow under the light. The fabric was a delicate blend of fine silks and soft velvet, flowing gracefully with every step she took. Adorning her shoulder was a striking red dragon head, crafted from intricate embroidery and adorned with gleaming ruby eyes that seemed to sparkle like living flames.
The sigil of her house, the three-headed red dragon, was masterfully embroidered across her chest in vivid scarlet thread, its wings unfurling with an almost lifelike grace.
Draped over her shoulders was her maiden cloak, a deep crimson hue edged in gold, a symbol of her family's honor and protection as she prepared to pass into her new life. The train of the cloak cascaded behind her like a river of fire, completing her wonderous appearance.
As her daughter passed by, Alysanne was momentarily lost in memories. Flashes of Jocelyn and Alyssa flitted through her mind, but she pushed them aside, offering Gael a warm smile. Her daughter returned it with a radiant one of her own, her happiness shining brightly.
Gael walked gracefully to the High Septon, where Barthimos stood waiting with composed anticipation. As custom dictated, Jaehaerys stepped forward, his hands steady as he removed Gael's maiden cloak, a gesture once done for Alysanne herself so many years ago, though not by her father. With careful reverence, he passed the cloak to a waiting servant, who whisked it away.
Jaehaerys then took his place beside Alysanne, his smile dazzling, the very same smile that had once stolen her heart. Gently, he took her hand, and she found herself comforted by his enduring warmth.
Alysanne turned her gaze back to Gael as the High Septon began to speak. "We stand here today to wed these two souls. But before we begin, my lord, you may cloak the bride under your protection."
Barthimos, now twenty-one, looked every inch the handsome young lord. His silvery curls caught the light, and his small muttonchops framed his youthful, confident smile. With steady hands, he draped a white cloak adorned with a red crab over Gael's shoulders, a symbol of her new house and protection.
The pair turned to face one another, their eyes locking in a moment of unspoken understanding and love. As tradition dictated, they spoke the sacred words together:
"With this kiss, I pledge my love." The pair said, and they kissed each other. Her daughter's face was turning a little scarlet. Then, they continue with the words. "Father, Smith, Maiden, Warrior, Crone, Stranger, I am hers, and she is mine, until this day, until the end of my days."
Gael's smile was brighter than the sun, and a small tear of joy slipped down Alysanne's cheek as she watched her daughter truly wed.
The High Septon raised his hands, his voice resonating through the hall. "Your Grace, Your Grace, my lords, my ladies, we stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife. Princess Gael Targaryen and Lord Barthimos Celtigar are now joined as one, one flesh, one heart, one soul. May they be cursed who seek to tear them apart."
The hall erupted in applause and cheers, a chorus of joy echoing through the chamber. Alysanne squeezed Jaehaerys's hand, her heart brimming with pride and happiness as she looked upon her daughter and her new husband, standing together at the start of their shared future.
Greathall of Dragonstone
Alysanne smiled warmly as the cooks entered the hall, presenting the third course of the grand seven-course feast. Plates of roast duck glazed with raspberry sauce were placed before the guests, filling the room with a mouthwatering aroma.
"I'm grateful it's only a seven-course meal, husband," she said with a playful grin as her plate was set before her. "Do you remember our stepfather's wedding dinner to our mother?"
Jaehaerys chuckled, his expression fond. "How could I forget? The man had ordered a feast of what—thirty courses?"
"Thirty-three, if I recall," Alysanne replied with a soft laugh, cutting into her duck. "Yet, you handled it well then, just as you are now." Her gaze shifted toward Gael, who smiled as Barthimos gently fed her a piece of duck.
Jaehaerys followed her gaze, his voice thoughtful. "He made mother smile, even if only for a time. I remember her happiness when Boremund was born. Rogar had his flaws, yes, but he gave us safety when we needed it most. Without him taking us in and declaring for me, I wonder where we would be now."
Alysanne nodded, dipping a piece of duck into the rich raspberry sauce. "True. Flawed, but a good man at heart." She savored the bite, the tender meat perfectly complemented by the sweet tang of the sauce, which was a feast worthy of the occasion.
The sound of a knife striking a goblet drew her attention as Baelon rose from his seat, Lyanna beside him. The hall quieted, all eyes turning to her son.
Baelon raised his goblet high, his voice clear and commanding. "Let us toast once more to the marriage of my beautiful sister and her husband!" His smile shone with pride as he looked at Gael.
"To Princess Gael and Lord Barthimos!" Lord Garret Massey echoed, lifting his cup.
"To the Red Dragon and the Crab!" Lord Corlys Velaryon proclaimed, bowing his head respectfully.
"Fire and Blood, and We Fear No Storm!" Viserys added with a grin, his goblet raised high.
"To kinship." Rickard Stark added, smiling.
The hall erupted in cheers and well-wishes, a chorus of voices celebrating the union. Alysanne's heart swelled with pride and joy as she watched Gael and Barthimos, their smiles radiating happiness. It was a perfect moment, one she hoped her daughter would carry with her for the rest of her life.
As the day wore on and dinner concluded, the festivities shifted to dancing. The first dance, as tradition demanded, belonged to the bride and groom. Gael moved with delicate grace, her cheeks flushed with happiness as Barthimos spun her around. House Celtigar might not be among the most powerful, but Barthimos's kind demeanor and the proximity of Claw Isle to Dragonstone and King's Landing offered practical blessings. Alysanne knew her daughter to be a gentle, shy soul, devoted to her family. Now, Alysanne hoped Gael had everything she had wished for, perhaps even a child of her own, if the gods were kind. Applause brought Alysanne out of her reverie as Jaehaerys stepped onto the floor to share a dance with Gael. Others soon followed, filling the room with music and merriment.
"My queen, may I have the honor of a dance with my goodmother?" Barthimos asked, bowing slightly with a bright smile.
"You may, goodson," Alysanne replied warmly, taking his hand.
"My queen, you look beautiful tonight just like your daughter," Barthimos said as they began to dance.
"Thank you, but please, we are family now. Call me Alysanne if we are this close," she replied with a gentle smile.
"As you wish, Alysanne," Barthimos said with a grin, his tone lighthearted.
When their dance ended, Alysanne found herself in her husband's arms. "How are you feeling?" Jaehaerys asked, glancing down at her hip with concern.
"Fine," she said, though her smile hinted at her weariness. "I can likely manage one more dance after this, but even with the pain, I'm happy, Jae, happier than I have been in a long time."
"Good," Jaehaerys murmured before kissing her cheek tenderly. At that moment, Alysanne felt the old warmth of their love bloom anew. Despite the trials and differences of the years, Jaehaerys remained the love of her life.
When the dance ended, Alysanne returned to her seat and watched the others on the floor. Baelon was dancing with Lyanna, who held little Aemon in her arms. To their left, Viserys and Aemma swayed together, delighting the realm's joy, Rhaenyra, nestled between them. Gael rested her head on her husband's chest as they moved gently to the music. 'Be happy, child,' Alysanne thought with a smile.
Even Corlys seemed in good spirits, sharing a lively dance with Rhaenys. However, at the far end of the main table, Daemon sat alone, his cup heavy in his hand and a dark glower on his face. Alysanne's gaze followed his line of sight to the stairs, where Rhea Royce was dancing with Jaehaerys, her movements light and graceful. 'Even after more than a year of marriage, he still does not like her. Perhaps a child would soften his mood,' Alysanne mused, letting out a quiet sigh.
Suddenly, Daemon stood, his voice cutting through the hall. "It is late, and the hour is ripe. Shall we see them to bed?"
The music stopped abruptly, and the hall fell silent. Gael froze, her face turning crimson with embarrassment. Barthimos immediately stepped forward, his tone calm but firm.
"That will not be necessary, Prince Daemon," he said, his arm protectively around Gael's shoulders. "My wife and I will retire on our own."
He guided Gael toward the stairs, her head bowed in shy gratitude, as murmurs of discontent rippled through the crowd.
Before Daemon could react further, Baelon was at his side, his tone sharp and chastising. Crabbing Daemon's cub, and putting it away. "You've had enough for one night, son. Come with me."
Daemon glared but didn't resist as Baelon gripped his shoulder and led him from the hall. The tension slowly dissipated, and the music resumed.
Alysanne watched as Barthimos and Gael disappeared up the stairs, her heart filled with relief and hope. Her shy daughter had found a husband who valued her and shielded her from discomfort, which was a rare and precious gift in their world.
Soon, she retired to her chamber, a content woman.
Rickard Stark
Rickard Stark (96 A.C. Tenth Moon)
Three days before the wedding
Rickard Stark sighed in relief as the island of Dragonstone came into view on the horizon. The journey from White Harbor had been arduous and one he'd sooner forget. He felt it in his bones his traveling days were long behind him.
"I'm weary, Barbery," he admitted, turning to his wife. "Making these journeys isn't as easy as it once was. This might be my last. But seeing Dragonstone and the grandchildren, Lyanna gave us gives me strength."
Barbery Dustin, standing beside him, smiled softly. "You are still the strong, wandering wolf who wrapped me around his finger," she said. "I remember the tales you told me of your time with the Company of the Rose. How you earned their respect and fought beside them. So many stories…"
She leaned in, kissing him tenderly.
Rickard chuckled, his voice taking on a playful growl. "When I first saw you, I knew I wanted you as my mate."
Barbery laughed, her eyes bright with affection. "And I didn't care that you were older. I found it intriguing your strength and your wisdom."
He held her close, marveling at how time had barely touched her fierce beauty. "Soon after we wed, little Lyanna arrived," Rickard said, his voice softening with the memory.
"Not so little anymore," Barbery replied, her gaze fixed on the growing silhouette of Dragonstone ahead.
"Oh, by the old gods," Rickard exclaimed as a giant black dragon appeared in the sky. "Rickard, is that the dragon our grandson rides?" Barbery asked, her voice slightly trembling. "It's she wrote that Aemon somehow snuck out of the castle and made it to the dragonpit. Then, the boy rode the thing at four. It was also then that she knew she was with child with her third babe." He replied. 'Seeing Balerion in the flesh, how could Aemon have ridden that thing? Was the boy truly a warg, like Lyanna claimed? Otherwise, he couldn't truly explain how Aemon had ridden such a beast.' Rickard mused in awe as he looked at the black dragon.
A few moments later.
Dragonstone Harbor
As the ship drew closer to the dock, Rickard Stark's eyes caught sight of his daughter waiting for him. Lyanna stood at the edge of the pier, cradling a small child in her arms. Even from this distance, he knew it was his granddaughter, Visenya. Beside her was Baelon, his goodson. Time had etched its lines on Baelon's face, yet his Targaryen beauty remained undiminished, matched only by the radiant grace of Lyanna at his side.
To Lyanna's left stood a boy who was a tall child of only four namedays. Rickard's gaze locked on the boy's striking eyes, and his heart stirred with familiarity. Those were Lyanna's eyes, his eyes, Stark eyes the same steel-gray hue as their ancestral blade, Ice.
"Hm," Rickard murmured to Della as they prepared to disembark. "He's a fine mix of them both."
"He is," Barbery agreed with a warm smile.
The gangplank lowered, creaking under its weight, and the Starks descended to the dock. Baelon stepped forward to greet them, his demeanor formal yet welcoming.
"Lord Stark, by the honor of His Grace, King Jaehaerys, we welcome you to Dragonstone Isle," Baelon said, his voice carrying the same regal authority Rickard remembered from their first meeting years ago.
Rickard smiled, clasping Baelon's offered hand in a firm grip. "Prince Baelon, the honor is mine. The journey was long, but I am eager to see my grandchildren, my daughter, and," his smile broadened, a glint of mischief in his eyes, "even my goodson."
Baelon chuckled softly at the jest, his handshake strong and steady. "Your daughter speaks often of you, my lord. It pleases me to see her joy reflected in your presence."
"Father, Mother," Lyanna's voice broke through, bright and filled with pride. She stepped forward, her dark hair glinting in the sunlight. "Meet Aemon," she said, gesturing to the boy.
The child wasted no time, sprinting forward with an exuberant cry of, "Grandfather! Grandmother!"
Rickard knelt just in time to catch him, laughing as the boy wrapped his arms around him. "Hm, spirited, aren't you?" Rickard said, ruffling the boy's silver-golden streaked hair. "Takes after me, no doubt."
Barbery crouched beside him, wrapping her arms around the boy as well. "A fine lad," she said warmly, her eyes shining with affection.
Lyanna approached, her soft smile brimming with joy. "And this," she said, gently bouncing the child in her arms, "is Visenya. She'll will be turning two soon. Come, little one, say hello."
Visenya peeked shyly at her grandparents, her violet eyes wide with curiosity. "Hi," she murmured, her voice small and sweet, before burying her face in Lyanna's chest. Her hair was as dark as Lyanna's.
He stood, his heart swelling as he gazed at his daughter and her family. "They are a perfect blend of you and Baelon," Barbery said, embracing Lyanna tightly.
"Just as it should be," Rickard added, his voice rough with emotion. He reached out to cup Lyanna's cheek, his calloused hand gentle against her soft skin. "You've done well, my wolf."
Lyanna smiled, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "And I see you in Aemon," she whispered. "Thank you for coming, Father. It means the world to me."
"Of course, it's more than five years since I saw you. This wedding of your goodsister was the perfect opportunity." He replied, smiling and embracing his daughter again.
"Now, let's get into the carriage, and my grandson can tell me all about how he flew on that giant dragon I saw flying before," Rickard said as he smiled at Aemon. "I will. It was amazing." Aemon said quickly, 'yet there was something in Aemon's eyes, a wisdom you never saw in children that age. He only saw it before in Lyanna.' He waved the thought away, and they walked toward the carriage.
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