The year was 263 AC.
Rhaegar watched the sun rise over the castle; from the city to the sea, the warm light shone like gold. Every street in King's Landing was festooned with banners and lanterns.
Casinos, brothels, inns, and stables were packed to bursting. Merchants sighed, wishing the great lords would marry more often, Prince Rhaegar must grow up quickly, for the celebrations would be grander still.
When a wedding is entwined with gold, the world knows the feast will be remembered for its luxury and splendor.
Gold reacts with the human soul: it makes the rich arrogant and the poor murderous.
The common folk of King's Landing and the visiting nobility, hearing of the scale of Ser Tywin's nuptials, hailed it as a "Golden Wedding."
The ceremony would begin at noon in the Great Sept of Baelor; by dusk, the revelry would move to the Throne Room for a feast of eight hundred guests and sixty-six courses. Singers, mimes, jugglers, and puppeteers would exhaust themselves to please the bride and groom.
Rhaegar could feel it: all the gold was burning into foam for that one dazzling day.
The Iron Throne came at a high price, but it was a necessary expedient, everyone still expected House Lannister to pay the King's debts.
Most painful to Rhaegar was that neither father could be present: the bride's father had died on the battlefield, and the groom's father was still chasing pleasure across the Narrow Sea. He was not alone; the entire court felt the absence.
King Jaehaerys II granted Ser Tywin the use of the Queen's Ballroom for the breakfast fast-breaking. "Though your father does not welcome us, we shall give you double the hospitality," he said.
The Queen's Ballroom was thick with the scent of power, money, perfume, flowers, and fine food, an intoxicating atmosphere that sent the courtiers into ecstasies.
Soft music floated from flutes and harps, while comic performers danced and sang, drawing laughter from the guests.
Only those with power could dine here; everyone crossing the hall was a lord or a knight.
Laughter rose and fell like tides; the air was warm and pleasant as spring.
King Jaehaerys arranged for Prince Aerys and Rhaegar to serve the male guests, while Queen Rhaella, assisted by the Princess of Dorne and Lady Cassana, hosted the ladies.
The gathering was to congratulate the newlyweds and welcome the Lord of the Eyrie and his lady, who had traveled from afar, Jon Arryn and his wife.
House Arryn were rare guests, for like all Valemen, they were cautious, aloof, and stubborn.
The hall's most precious treasures were the Dragon of the Iron Throne, the Stag of Storm's End, the Golden Lion of the West, the Falcon of the Vale (represented by the Lord and his lady), and the Trout of the Riverlands (represented by the Lord's brother, Ser Brynden "Blackfish" Tully). The Direwolves of the North and the Roses of the Reach were absent.
King's Landing viewed the Wolves as savages who scorned courtly games; House Tyrell of the Reach had intended to come but hesitated, fearing to appear too eager. Lord Hoster Tully, perhaps too proud to curry favor with his younger peers or simply mediocre, chose to stay away, though his lands were close to the center of power.
Rhaegar had never seen a breakfast so crowded; today, every seat was filled.
He looked around the ballroom and saw only prominent nobles and their heirs.
The King and Queen, Lord and Lady Baratheon, and Lord and Lady Arryn sat at the high table with the bride and groom; Rhaegar and the other princes sat below them.
Rhaegar's gaze lingered on Lord Jon Arryn: a man past forty but still handsome, with blond hair, blue eyes, an aquiline nose, and a dimple when he smiled.
His wife, Rowena Arryn, a cousin younger than he, dressed in gold and blue, was the lord's second wife. They were affectionate, but she had failed to produce an heir, and worry always clouded her smile. King Jaehaerys, younger than she, already had grandchildren running about the Red Keep.
Whenever Rowena looked at Rhaegar and the Baratheon children, sadness washed over her face.
Jon Arryn was considered a man of integrity; though childless for years, he kept no mistresses and brought no bastards home, an honesty rare among high lords.
Fate is like a harp string, Rhaegar mused, and the Arryn note has gone low. The main line of the Eyrie had nearly been extinguished more than once, and the lord seemed resigned. Besides, Westeros revered close-kin marriage, though the dragonlords stretched blood ties further than most.
"Such fine children. It brings me joy to see you. May you be strong as mountain falcons." Lady Rowena embraced Rhaegar and the Baratheon children, placing a silver falcon pendant around each of their necks, and presenting the same gift to the bride and groom.
The menu boards were laden with delicacies: milk, golden sweet wine, hot mineral water, fried sea fish, smoked capons, fat geese, oranges, and buttered milk cakes.
Food held little appeal for Rhaegar; it was the gifts that excited him, only the finest and rarest could satisfy him.
Ser Tywin had already received a haul: a golden lion statue from his western bannermen, a magnificent saddle from one brother, a red silk marching tent from another; a gold rose set with rubies from the distant Lord Tyrell; a gem ring carved in the shape of a lion from the Princess of Dorne.
All gifts were politely accepted; every giver would receive a return gift later.
However, the climax of the morning came when the sworn brothers took the stage.
Ser Steffon presented a statue of Storm's End, depicting three young men riding side by side through the woods, their youthful faces carved in exquisite detail.
Prince Aerys presented a lion-headed sword: a gilded bronze hilt, a peach-wood scabbard wrapped in red lacquered sharkskin, the blade shining like a first kiss. It was famous, a miniature version of Brightroar.
"Let this sword make up for the loss of the one you lost," Aerys said.
Ser Tywin was too moved to speak; the three brothers embraced, and the women wept.
Rhaegar watched it all, his own emotions complex.
Blood ties, brotherly love, they were brothers once, until time and the folly of love tore them apart.
A man's heart breaks like porcelain.
Applause thundered through the hall; King Jaehaerys clapped, and every guest followed suit like trained soldiers, passing the revelry from one corner to another.
The company moved to the Great Sept of Baelor, and the Golden Wedding ceremony officially began.
The High Septon's crystal crown shimmered with multicolored light; he had no name, having given it up for the gods. Rhaegar longed to touch those gems, how wealthy the priest must be.
It was said that when the Crown was short of money, they sometimes haggled with the Faith.
The Father above, the Mother of Mercy, they received the earth's fragrance on high stone, while the couple stood below like a matched pair of pearls.
Ser Tywin and Lady Joanna were resplendent in gold brocade embroidered with roaring lions.
Crimson and ancestral gold made them shine; the wreath of golden roses on Joanna symbolized a maiden's purity.
Rhaegar glanced at Prince Aerys below the dais, seeing both restless pride and the vow he had made not to ruin this day.
Tywin's brothers scattered gold-leaf rose petals; they drifted down like golden rain.
A cheer erupted from the crowd, some of the petals were real gold.
The Golden Wedding had truly begun!
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