Chapter 46: The Four-Sister Coterie of King's Landing
In the year 263 After Conquest, a coming golden wedding set King's Landing abuzz.
Every great house sent its representatives, and some Lords even came in person.
People said the celebration would rival the golden wedding of lord Rogar Baratheon and Queen Mother Alyssa.
Yet when Rogar and Alyssa wed, the realm had only just revived from cruel Maegor's grip; the land was far more broken than today.
Now, with the marriage of Master of Coin Tywin, House Lannister—already richer than any kingdom—would spare no expense, and the king wished to flaunt the unbreakable dragon-lion-Stag alliance; extravagance was all but assured.
The only imperfection was the absence of dragons to bless the rites… The Red Keep, realm of power, men, and strife, now carried a softer feminine touch, thick with perfume and the gleam of jewels.
Rhaegar found the Red Keep still cramped, its underbelves laced with spider-passages; rumor claimed the palaces of the Golden Dynasty covered an area greater than all King's Landing.
In the castle gardens Rhaegar watched the crowd circle the groom-to-be, Tywin, amid laughter.
King Jaehaerys II and his queen, together with Lord Ormond and his lady, represented the elder generation, the bygone age.
Ser Steffon and Lady Cassana, Prince Aerys and Princess Rhaella, and Ser Tywin and Lady Joanna stood for the sworn brothers of dragon, lion, and Stag. The Princess of Dorne, friend to Queen Rhaella and Joanna, had also journeyed from Dorne.
Prince Rhaegar, still a boy, served for the day as a makeshift page.
Ro erta and Robert, babes in arms of two wet-nurses, were already big, hungry, and sleepy—much to the nurses' present misery.
The Baratheons were famed for brawny frames and a surplus of head-long, bull-necked warriors.
The twins were so young that Cassana had meant to leave them behind, but Lord Ormond declared their bloodline hardy and their health robust; he longed to see the pretty, sturdy pair.
Rhaegar thought the greatest awkwardness was the absence of the groom's father: Tytos sulked at the thought of his son feasting in King's Landing and refused to come—more likely he was simply bewitched by a wet-nurse's ample bosom. With Tywin now ruling every affair, Tytos was happy to idle, content to be a figurehead.
Prince Aerys looked somewhat downcast, but the gain was a newfound meekness; he no longer let his roving eye run wild. Rhaegar asked for no miracle—only that his father keep to decent bounds.
Rhaegar flicked open his status panel and saw a fresh title had appeared: Born of Summer Hall, Lucky Rhaegar (Lady Luck smiles on you; lucky ones last to the end. Fortune is elusive, yet priceless.)
New achievements had also surfaced: kindling devourer (kindling, treasure of the world, legacy of House Baelarys; you have devoured River-lord Blackfish, the Rhoynar holy spring, and the Fountain of Youth) and fate changer (the woods keep forking; the path you chose has birthed a new history).
Titles ranked just below identity, a rare honor in themselves.
Rhaegar felt he was forever pushing himself into the limelight; another title now hung there—soon the string would be long enough to tangle anyone.
Castle gardens bloomed with every hue, perfumes mingling, the women's beauty outshining the flowers.
Rhaegar mused: men are tasked with conquering the world; women need only conquer men.
The ladies' gowns were dazzling, set off by gems and gold in Stag, red-dragon, or lion motifs.
Dresses of burgundy, silver, green, and gold shimmered at every turn.
Lady Joanna—silver curls, emerald eyes, slender—was said to make the kingdom's golden purse laugh. Rhaella, silver-haired with violet eyes, bore the majesty and dazzle of Valyrian dragon-Lords.
Princess Loreza Martell of Dorne, olive-skinned, black of eye and hair, looked frail and slight, yet she was older than her two friends and already mother to several children. Lady Cassana, full-figured with green eyes, had given the Baratheon children their blue gaze.
Beauties all, yet each in her own bloom.
The Dornish princess and Lady Joanna had once been Rhaella's handmaids; their bond ran deep. Though Lady Cassana's birth was humbler, she was now a Baratheon bride and part of the sister-circle.
Wags were already calling them the Four-Sister Coterie of King's Landing—the four roses.
Born to privilege, all four were tied to Rhaegar's mother and stood for Lannister, Martell, Targaryen, and Baratheon, keeping dragon, lion, Stag, and spear in lasting amity.
Rhaegar gossiped inwardly: the Iron Islands and The North never join such courtly games, House Tully keeps a low profile, and the mountain eagles cloister themselves away.
Perhaps someone from House Tyrell could rival them, yet because Lord and Lady Tyrell had once been jilted by the Dragonlords and then married each other, they now found it too awkward to face the dragons.
Rhaegar studied Lady Joanna—lovely, gentle, almost fragile—and wondered how on earth her future children would turn out so muddle-headed.
"Come, little lordling, come meet your baby sister and the tiny warrior." Lady Cassana beckoned Rhaegar with a wave.
Rhaegar stepped over and looked at the little girl—the doe of Storm's End. Rhaella's skin was pale, her black hair as thick as raven feathers, her eyes deep-ocean blue, pretty and sweet. The girl noticed Rhaegar and smiled at him.
"I swear you swallowed candles and books while carrying him—he's far too serious." Lady Cassana said to Rhaella.
"Not at all. He's a good child—never cries or fusses; he pours his fire into spears, swords, and studies. Ser Barristan and Grand Maester Cesar say he's a born fighter. He loves the Red Keep's library and the training yard." Rhaella answered with a smile.
"Look how fated these two are," Lady Cassana remarked to Rhaella.
At those words, both the Princess of Dorne and Lady Joanna's expressions shifted. They might be a sister-circle, yet the crown of queenship has only one seat. The garland of love and beauty lasts a day; the queen's garland lasts a lifetime.
The Princess of Dorne's eldest daughter was sickly and rarely traveled. Given Baratheon dragon-blood, their odds seemed slim.
Ignoring the women's mental storms, Rhaegar simply gazed at the adorable fawn-girl—so quiet and sweet.
Just then baby Robert grew hungry and wailed at his wet-nurse. The little girl reached out, actually trying to pinch Robert's cheek.
"Don't, my sweet. The doe is fiercer than her baby brother. If we blink, she'll clobber him." Ser Steffon called back with a laugh.
Rhaegar felt a chill—outwardly a doll, inwardly a spitfire sister.
"Ser Tywin has surely guessed what gift he'll receive, yet House Lannister is so wealthy nothing ordinary could tempt you." Ser Steffon said.
Ser Tywin smiled but offered no reply.
It was the Princess of Dorne who spoke up. "A valyrian steel sword is what you most desire, ser!"
"A pleasant dream, but unlikely to come true," Tywin replied. With lightbringer lost, even the Lion King felt the sting. Rich in gold, he still could not obtain a valyrian greatsword.
When the talk turned to valyrian steel blades, both Tywin and King Jaehaerys II looked uncomfortable.
valyrian steel swords are now vanishingly rare. After the Lannister family's great blade lightbringer was lost on an expedition, the lions offered fortunes to buy another; yet high or low, no lord will sell an heirloom.
The dragon house winced at the mention of valyrian blades: Blackfyre gone without trace, dark sister carried off by Bloodraven.
At present the only Targaryen long weapon might be Rhaegar's own shadow cleaver.
Rhaegar watched the disappointment on Tywin and Jaehaerys II. Westeros, after all, is a realm of noble houses that prizes martial prowess; owning a valyrian greatsword is a badge of honor—yet such swords are almost impossible to find. The price House Lannister once paid for a great blade could have funded an army.
I still need a sword, Rhaegar thought.
Blackfyre stands for kingship, dark sister for warriors—I need a sword that stands only for me. To fish out a valyrian blade I must go to Essos, the ruins of Valyria, or rely on my dragon kings ring; Westeros holds few such blades, save by force or theft.
"Enough of that. You men always harp on horses, lances, and fights. Let's speak of the children instead," said the Princess of Dorne.
"Indeed, we've decided that when the children grow up they may wed one another," Lady Cassana added with a smile; her lovely blue eyes evoked the sea.
"Impossible—House Martell's children are older than ours. Crafty Dornish as ever," joked Lord Ormond, armor cracking, iceberg melting.
Laughter merged into a river, flowing through the garden.
The women's voices were delicate threads, the men's bright as steel.
Flowers bloomed, people were young—power had not yet reshaped their faces.
Rhaegar watched their laughing faces and wished time could freeze this moment forever.
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