Under a sky of golden rain, Tywin and his bride spoke their vows, received blessings, and exchanged promises, while sacred hymns echoed to the clouds.
Rhaegar noticed that inside the Sept, the crimson lion banners of House Lannister hung high, but today, the banners displayed a pair of lions, one male and one female, gazing deeply into each other's eyes.
To honor the King, Tywin had also paired the lions with many dragon banners, the gold and crimson complementing each other perfectly.
Dazzling crimson answered the golden lions; Rhaegar saw a host of young men and women, blond and blue-eyed, in the prime of their youth. The newlyweds were sharp as knives, bright as a crescent moon.
Every guest wore strikingly magnificent attire, renowned for its splendor, refinement, and luxury.
Moreover, Rhaegar saw guests from across the Narrow Sea, Braavosi, Tyroshi, Pentoshi, Lyseni; no one wanted to miss the chance to curry favor with the Golden Boy of the Iron Throne and Heir to Casterly Rock, nor the opportunity to gauge the strength of the Crown.
Today, Rhaegar also came dressed in brocade like a courtly prince of King's Landing. He wore a black velvet doublet studded with rubies and diamonds forming a three-headed dragon, blood and fire melding into brilliance.
Rhaegar had not originally wanted such majesty, but the great lords thrived on power games; only evident grandeur could awe the realm, and the populace held deep resentment toward the hierarchy. Besides, the old King had entrusted him with a special task.
Rhaegar sat in the front row, watching the Queen drape the bride's cloak over Lady Joanna, while Ser Tywin took the groom's cloak from King Jaehaerys and placed it around his bride's shoulders.
Rhaegar witnessed Tywin kiss his bride with deep affection, the girl he had adored since boyhood, my love. Blood connected, hearts aligned, souls intertwined.
Applause surged like waves, one after another.
Below the dais, women began to weep; the couple was so happy it made hearts ache to watch.
"Brother shines so bright today, yet Mother cannot see it. Since she died, Father has barely cared for us," young Tygett whispered, looking dejected. Kevan quickly hushed him.
Rhaegar glanced at the blond boy, Tywin, the Laughing Lion (no, Tywin never laughs, likely referring to the future "Laughing Lion" nickname of Jaime or just the family sigil), had left behind loyal and capable brothers willing to live in the shadow of their great sibling, loyal yet resigned.
A prominent house can never have too many kin: the eldest inherits the lordship, younger brothers serve as advisors or captains of the guard, or marry for alliances; there is always a place. The risk lies in quarrels and feuds, but that is better than swift extinction.
Speaking of broken lines, Rhaegar saw Lady Arryn wiping tears from her eyes; if a highborn lady had few children, rumors would fly. Lord Arryn's expression remained solemn.
The dragons also lacked heirs; action must be taken, Rhaegar thought. Father Aerys seemed exhausted, unlikely to revive his vigor.
Just then, Grand Maester Sessa quietly approached Rhaegar and handed him a folded note.
"The sparrow has been caught!" Rhaegar read the words without hesitation, then burned the paper.
Gold and night must resort to violence to maintain peace.
Rhaegar saw the discussion bubbling like a boiling pot; the ceremony was nearly complete.
The wedding ended, and everyone looked forward to the evening ball.
Tywin's brothers, wearing lion helms and white armor over red cloaks, escorted the newlyweds out alongside the white-armored Kingsguard.
King Jaehaerys II and his Queen led the way, with Rhaegar beside the old King; next came Lord and Lady Baratheon, Lord and Lady Arryn, Prince Aerys and Princess Rhaella, the Princess of Dorne on the arm of the Blackfish, who looked uncomfortable, and finally Ser Steffon and his wife.
Outside, the crowd roared like the sea, commoners shouting the names of the bride, groom, and King. Some caught a glimpse of the gold-cloaked prince and stepped forward to try their luck, only to be pulled back by the Gold Cloaks.
Rhaegar saw faces of all kinds, mostly dressed in plain wool, gaunt and slack-muscled. Water can float a boat or capsize it; the fed are docile, the hungry riot. King's Landing must be supplied, he had to feed the whole city, not rely solely on the Lannisters and Tyrells.
The common folk loved peace and feasts; Lannister sweets, cakes, smoked meats, bread, and roast fowl won their hearts. Fed and watered, cheers rose one after another.
Rhaegar held the hands of the royal couple, feeling the labor House Targaryen had spent to honor Tywin.
The City Watch held the outer perimeter, while two hundred Baratheon soldiers and two hundred Lannister soldiers, all commanded by Ser Kevan, held the inner circle, and the Kingsguard surrounded the King.
Tywin and his bride went down with the King and Queen to accept the cheers, then proceeded to the Casterly Rock manse for the evening banquet.
"Do you wish to join the bedding, Aerys?" Ser Steffon asked Prince Aerys softly.
Rhaegar considered this ugly custom ubiquitous.
He glanced back: Aerys's eyes flickered uncertainly, while Queen Rhaella's violet eyes burned with fury, Aerys had once turned her lady into a whore in his mind. King Jaehaerys and the Queen also turned around. "No, wine gives me a headache," Aerys said immediately.
"Very well, I shall see to it. Luckily my little stags are well-behaved." Steffon patted Aerys on the shoulder.
In the Throne Room, torches burned through the night.
Perfume wafted, rich as wine; tonight, roast meat, fresh bread, and free ale were plentiful.
Rhaegar found King's Landing tolerable, except the food was too greasy, he decided to establish his own private kitchen.
Guests poured in, smiles on every face; Rhaegar read jealousy, envy, and hunger in their eyes.
Tables for the common folk were set in the courtyard, with simpler food and drink.
Silk, satin, velvet, and jeweled necklaces surged in like a tide, carrying the scent of roses and peonies.
Musicians packed the gallery, drummers, pipers, fiddlers, hornblowers, harpists, and bagpipers played with all their might.
The Throne Room had become a moving feast.
Nobles proudly announced their names and titles to the heralds before taking their seats; attending a royal wedding was an honor in itself. Squires in royal livery guided them.
Rhaegar sat before the King; Prince Aerys and Uncle Steffon acted as chief hosts, freely presenting themselves to every lord and wealthy merchant.
"Rhaegar, it is your turn," King Jaehaerys II said to his grandson with a smile.
"With pleasure." Rank bred confidence; blood and titles honed his will.
"Fill the cups! A toast to my lady first, though I dare not drink too much tonight." Ser Tywin raised a priceless royal dragon-headed goblet with ruby eyes, toasting Lady Joanna.
"Long live King Jaehaerys II!" "Long live the union of Ser Tywin and Lady Joanna!" Thunderous cheers echoed through the hall; thousands of cups clashed, clinking together, pride alone does not intoxicate, but wine is enough to drown the senses.
Rhaegar raised his own cup and sipped his milk. A royal wedding set the standard; now it was his turn.
"Next, a small gift," King Jaehaerys II announced, and the hall fell silent.
"Prince Rhaegar shall pray for the happiness of Ser Tywin and Lady Joanna." The King pointed to his grandson, who, though young, seemed two seasons more mature than his age. Dragon blood was precious, and only dragonlords could care for their heirs with such devotion.
The guests applauded; Ser Tywin's eyes shone.
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