"You—you're usually as stiff as a block of wood, not much better than that Hoffa guy. Why are you so diligent today?"
Diana reclined on a chair by the window as a handmaiden fanned her. She had once been a heroine like Sansa Tarly, capable of drawing a bow and hunting deer on horseback, as well as managing household accounts with precision. No, she still was. She remained the steward of House Vaelarys, no less competent than Yamor. Though now, her battlefield was the birthing bed.
"Mother, because you are here," Rhaegor blew on the hot soup brought from the kitchen, watching as his mother sipped it slowly.
"Your father is not pleased with your behavior, Rhaegor."
Diana set the half-finished bowl of thick soup aside. She gazed at her eldest son with a calm expression. The boy had followed his father for many years—dutiful, obedient, but far too naïve. Or to put it bluntly, childish. More bluntly, foolish. He believed that oaths and rules were absolute, blindly mimicking Hoffa Lawkeeper, who adhered strictly to laws and vows.
But Hoffa was a vassal of Draezell. He only needed to obey Draezell's laws and commands. Rhaegor, however, was Draezell's heir—the future head of House Vaelarys. What vows was he so determined to uphold?
"I heard from your father about what you said to Prince Viserys before you left," Diana said as she rested a hand on her belly. "Prince Viserys came to Dragon's Nest as a cupbearer and squire when he was much younger than you. At your age, he would never have spoken those words. And I also know what you did when Samantha and King Aegon consummated their marriage. Rhaegor, as your mother, I approve of you protecting your sister. But as the lady of House Vaelarys, I am very disappointed in you. Think about it—if your father were not at the Red Keep, how would the Kingsguard and the nobles have treated you?"
"Mother... but—"
Diana shook her head. "If oaths held any true power, that war would never have happened. The Tarly would not have switched allegiance. If rules were absolute, we would not have faced so many obstacles. Rhaegor, your father is right. We have spoiled you too much all these years."
Rhaegor could not refute his mother. Deep down, he believed he was right. But everything he had been taught told him he was completely wrong.
He was not ignorant of what his father had done as Hand of the King in King's Landing. Viserys' petty schemes had not gone unnoticed by Draezell. Lord Royce Caron of Nightsong had recently retired to the Purple Palace, leaving his son and heir, Byran Caron, to take up his lordship. Prince Quentyn Dayne had sent his heir to serve as Valar's squire. Even Lor Thaddeus Rowan, Redwyne, Fossoway, and Tarth had all traveled to Summerfield to attend Ray's summer feast.
He now realized how childish and foolish he had been. Shame crept into his heart. His father was not pleased with him, yet he still allowed him to handle governance and took the time to teach him about various aspects of rule.
Rhaegor believed in oaths and rules, but the woman before him, his father, his siblings—they were all important too. Perhaps even more important than laws and vows.
Then why was it so difficult to control his own mind?
"Rhaegor, this is your father's order. "Diana brushed her son's hair gently. "Once your brothers are born, take your sword and armor and journey to the princes' lands in the bordelands. Travel across Westeros and reflect on what you must truly do." Her voice softened. "I have secured a fine warhorse for you, my child. Go and see the world beyond our lands."
"Yes, Mother."
To his surprise, Rhaegor felt a thrill of excitement. His father had not spoken to him once since returning to Dragon's Nest, which had already put him on edge. Now, he finally understood his father's intentions.
So, this was to be his "expedition" across Westeros.
Rhaegor believed he would prove himself worthy.
As she watched her son leave, Diana sighed. Would this journey finally make him grow up?
"Take me to Rhaena," she said, calling for her handmaiden. "It's her first time giving birth. I must be by her side."
---
Meanwhile, in the Five Fingers Hall.
Hoffa stood beside Draezell, bowing his head. "Your Highness, this is my failure. I should take responsibility for Rhaegor's foolishness."
Draezell sighed and shook his head. "It is not your fault. Rhaegor has simply failed to learn your most admirable qualities."
"Your Highness, should I assign someone to accompany him?"
Draezell smiled. "If he has a guard protecting him at all times, what would be the point of an expedition?"
"I understand, Your Highness," Hoffa nodded, refraining from pressing the matter further.
The people of Summerfield gathered once again in the square before the Great Sept of the Seven Dragons. A sea of countless individuals stretched as far as the eye could see, all praying for Lady Diana and Lady Rhaena, beseeching the gods for their safe delivery.
This had long been a tradition in Summerfield.
Whenever the women of House Vaelarys gave birth, the people would come together to offer their blessings.
The hymn of the Mother resounded like waves crashing upon the shore, one after another, sweeping over all of Summerfield as the city became immersed in solemn reverence.
The bells of the sept tolled.
Inside the Purple Palace, the envoy from the Iron Bank lifted his head from tending to his plants. Though he was well-traveled, even by Braavosi standards, the sight before him never failed to leave him in awe.
Countless people.
Countless voices in prayer.
And the earth-shaking roars of dragons.
Every element of the scene carried its own kind of majesty.
"Truly worthy of House Vaelarys," the envoy murmured, squinting toward the blazing sun.
His ears were filled with the songs that reverberated throughout the city.
Dragonstone seemed to tremble. Roar after roar of dragons echoed in the distance, still distinct and clear even within the Purple Palace. He could hear Vermithor's thunderous bellow, the melodic cry of Starsong, and the piercing screech of Shadowmare.
"Uncle High Hat! Uncle High Hat!"
A group of children raised in the Purple Palace came running toward him, their eyes gleaming with excitement.
"The bells rang! That means it's time for candy!"
"Yes, yes," the envoy chuckled. This was a little game he played with them—whenever news arrived that the children had been safely delivered, he would reward them with rare sweets from Braavos. Though confections were not uncommon in the Purple Palace, the children still found joy in the ritual.
And truth be told, so did he.
It also meant that House Rogare would likely withdraw its investments soon, turning its focus to its ventures in King's Landing.
The Iron Bank's opportunity was at hand.
The children had been born safely.
Diana and Rhaena had both successfully given birth to sons.
Diana's third son was yet another beautiful boy with silver hair and Purple eyes. Though wrinkled as all newborns were, he was stronger than his elder brothers had been at birth.
Rhaena's firstborn, however, was an exceptionally robust child. His cries nearly shook the rafters of the birthing chamber—though, of course, such a thing was impossible.
Draezell bestowed names upon them both.
Dan Vaelarys—the name of a legendary figure in Valyrian history. "The Pathfinder" Dan, the man who led the first Valyrian shepherds to discover the great dragons slumbering within the Fourteen Flames. He was the first to climb upon a dragon's back.
Though the Valyrian records stated that the courageous Dan perished in dragonfire, his actions had ushered in the golden age of Valyria.
The second child was named Orion Vaelarys, the firstborn son of Rhaena and Rey. He was the eleventh to bear that name in the annals of House Vaelarys.
The ten before him—aside from that fool who once styled himself an emperor—had all been among the greatest warriors Valyria had ever seen.
It was a warrior's name.