In the Red Keep, they had to endure yet another wedding feast, which, however, was slightly stricter, but still rich and rakish to the necessary degree—after all, the marriage of the heir to the throne is an important event for the realm. Houses from all Seven Kingdoms gathered in the capital again for festivities and tourneys: the Starks from the North were represented by Lord Rickon's brother Bennard, who had ridden two horses to death on the road to make it to the celebrations; the Tullys arrived with their entire not-small family, as did the Tyrells; the Lannisters sent Lord Tymond's twin sons, Ser Jason and Ser Tyland; even the eternally frowning Lord Baratheon arrived. Against the background of such guests, the absence of Lady Jeyne Arryn was noticeable, though explainable; the Vale was represented in her name by Lord Grafton, master of Gulltown, and several of his neighbors and vassals of lesser rank.
When the festivities died down and the guests, satisfied with the truly royal scale of the wedding, departed for their homes, the King and two of his brothers decided to recall childhood, which now seemed very distant, and break their fast, as was the custom before, in the old chambers of their late father. At the table, which now did not seem dimensionlessly large, they, without conspiring, sat in the old way, leaving an empty place for Prince Baelon. When the servants, having set dishes with quails, cheeses, sausages, stuffed eggs, still-steaming bread, and other viands, withdrew, Viserys inquired as if in passing:
"Well, Daemon, are you satisfied with your wife now?"
"It is hard to be unsatisfied after marriage to the Bronze Bitch," the other answered and, unashamed, yawned. "Calla at least can be looked at without disgust."
"That is, you like her?"
"She is pleasant to tup," shrugged the Prince and sipped wine.
Viserys frowned condemningly and wanted to say something, but Aegon forestalled him:
"Before you utter something boringly proper, my brother, look at this from another side. Daemon at least does not evade his marital duty, as before."
"Well, at least that."
"Calla is good," continued Daemon. "Soft where needed, obedient, furthermore, she likes it when I take her."
"Did she tell you this herself?"
"A woman cannot lie in bed, Aegon."
"To my mind, only therein can she."
"Let us leave this topic," grimaced Viserys.
"Saint," snorted the middle brother.
They fell upon the quails and eggs, and for a time the conversation ceased of itself. Having paid tribute to the cooks' skill, Viserys carefully dabbed his lips with a scarlet napkin and asked again:
"Well, but if speaking generally? Leaving aside the bed?"
"Not that we often conversed privately outside the bed," chuckled Daemon. "But it seems to me she is a fool."
Aegon exchanged bewildered glances with his brother-King; he had not expected such an assessment.
"In what sense?"
"No, not such a fool as Aunt Gael. Just... just she is not too clever."
"And have you begun to like clever women?" asked Aegon maliciously.
"Mayhaps it is not visible by me," Daemon was almost offended. "But I would like my wife not to be an empty-headed doll interested in nothing save saccharine ballads, fashions for silk, velvet, and lace, and for whom the choice of a dress in which to come down to supper is the greatest of the universe's problems."
Viserys leaned back in his chair and looked point-blank at his heir.
"I do not understand something. When you had a wife of noble birth, a Lady in her own right, who engaged in managing her lands, you ran from her like a Dornish woman's lover from her cuckolded husband. Now you complain that your new wife is empty-headed and boring. Have you a conscience at all?"
"I am not complaining," snapped Daemon. "But neither will I renounce my words. Calla is a beautiful fool, but even this beautiful fool is better than the Bronze Bitch, may all her horses tup her."
Aegon intentionally awkwardly clinked his fork against the crystal goblet, distracting his brothers, and said with habitual malice:
"Well, at least you know where to find a woman capable of talking about politics and art when you tire of your Calla."
"Truly?"
"In your old fief, on the Street of Silk," explained the younger Prince. "Mysaria will be glad. Want to go together and cry to her?"
"Not before I get Calla with child," grinned Daemon.
After this, the conversation somehow flowed of itself to children in general, then Viserys began to tell some cute nonsense about Rhaenyra, such as proud parents always tell kin and friends, and Aegon listened with half an ear, chewed, and thought: is everything truly as Daemon describes?
Unfortunately, yes, decided the Prince. In his first visit to Pentos, at the very beginning of the journey, Callio introduced him to his entire family: wife, sons, and sister. Calla, who was only three or four years older than the Prince's firstborn, seemed pretty to Aegon then, but dim-witted. Neat facial features, soft light-brown curls could not compensate for the periodically flashing lack of understanding in the gaze of bright blue eyes.
Calla, naturally, knew that her elder brother was Prince of Pentos, but could not say what he did: only "rules and trades." She knew much about Pentos, but her knowledge of history did not go beyond the limits of family mansions and estates. She loved music, but could not play a single musical instrument and, as Aegon established, could not understand music; everything that sounded melodic was to her liking—thus, she equally liked the trills of birds and the modulations of harp strings, but she could not abide the clatter of castanets. She was perfectly versed in fashions, dresses, and fabrics from which they were sewn, and even roughly understood their cost, but she could scarce have conducted trade in them, as wives and daughters of some Pentoshi Magisters did. She liked needlework, but not the process itself, in which she preferred not to participate, but its result.
Besides Pentoshi, she spoke a little Valyrian, and now had mastered Common; however, there was no merit of hers in that, since mentors had drummed the High Tongue into her, and Andal turned out quite similar to Pentoshi. As a result, finding herself in Westeros, she spoke with Andal words, observing Valyrian grammar, and in case of a lack of words or misunderstanding, switched to her native speech. This rather amused court ladies, furthermore, the Princess, like any curiosity, aroused interest by her very person; her explanations regarding Pentoshi costume, customs, and gossip of the high society of the young kingdom gave food to highborn gossips and formed a circle of enthusiastic hangers-on around her, nodding and fawning before the future Queen. At first, Aegon feared that various factions and groupings at court would use her in their interests, but soon realized his fears were groundless: Calla Carlarys was too dim-witted to be used in intrigues, and too guileless to arrange them herself.
If one looked into it, said Aegon to himself, there was no one's fault that Calla Carlarys grew up as she became. Magisters conduct business among themselves, and women of their estate do not often seize the reins of government, limiting themselves to preserving the family hearth—in this they were quite similar to Andal wives. Furthermore, when the current Princess was growing up, her parents had already died, her brother was fighting his way to the top, and his wife was engaged in supporting her spouse and raising their children along the way. No one cared for Calla until she became a bargaining chip in a game whose rules she did not understand.
In the end, the Prince decided that Daemon could be understood: this is not the worst wife possible, if only because Calla Carlarys is not Rhea Royce. Viserys's question tore him from his reflections:
"...think?"
"What, pardon?"
"I say that I want to send Rhaenyra to Lady Jeyne. She is her cousin-aunt, ties between Houses must be maintained," repeated his brother and shrank a little. "In the end, she is growing up, and there are things a girl needs to learn from women, not from fathers."
"If you mean that she has already flowered, do not worry, the septas have already told her everything necessary," answered Aegon absently.
"How do you know this? And why do I not know about this?"
"I know not. Perhaps because it was I who argued with the septas about the fact that pious young ladies do not fly astride dragons and do not curse in Valyrian."
"What?" marveled Viserys.
"You taught her to curse in Valyrian?" Daemon's surprise was no less than that of the venerable parent himself.
"On purpose—no. But, perhaps, I allow that she heard me cursing with Dennis, or with Baelor, or with my leg. Children love to repeat, after all."
"This is..." began the King.
"This is wonderful!" admired the Heir to the Iron Throne. "Let her fly to the Vale and shower Runestone with curses on the way."
"I shall not let my only daughter go alone on a journey across the Mountains of the Moon! Syrax simply will not fly over them!"
"Allow me to judge dragons, my brother. Syrax, like her rider, is young and full of energy; with rest, she will overcome the Mountains of the Moon too. You are right, the Arryns need reminding that we are still kin to them. But to make you calmer, I am ready to fly with her."
However, it is one thing to voice a desire, and quite another to carry it out. Like many of Aegon's plans, the proposal to set off for the Vale as soon as possible and light, that is on dragons accompanied only by Dennis, was met with hostility. Viserys, as always, hesitated, waiting for something when everything was already decided; cautious voices were also heard in the Small Council:
"If you set off only on dragons, you will liken yourselves to Queen Visenya, who conquered the Vale," said Lord Massey. "You will appear uninvited, and this against the background of current relations may be perceived by the Arryns as a threat."
Other members of the Council spoke in a similar vein; an outstretched hand, not a slap in the face, a greeting, not a curse, peace, not war—so courtiers spoke in various ways and Viserys agreed with them. Aegon had to reconcile himself to the fact that a small family trip had become a complex political game, which, moreover, was not organized by him. He managed, however, to defend the very principle of travel on dragons for himself and his niece, but he had to reconcile himself to her retinue.
Together with them, Rhaenyra's court ladies set off for the Eyrie: Lady Alicent Hightower, the Chamberlain's daughter Lady Iolante Massey, the Master of Coin's niece Lady Ellyn Beesbury. Of course, among other confidantes, the Hand's daughter, being a childhood friend, received somewhat more attention from the Princess than others, but Lady Iolante and Lady Ellyn managed to find their way to the King's only child. In the end, both were roughly of the same age as Rhaenyra, while Alicent was three years older than them; for Aegon and other adults, these were "only three years," but for the girls themselves, these were "whole three years."
Besides servants, four septas also set off with them, called to watch over piety, propriety, and general grace on the journey, as well as Ser Criston Cole, the new Kingsguard who received his white cloak at the tourney in honor of the wedding of the Prince of Dragonstone. The Coles were a petty knightly house in service to the Dondarrions, and Ser Criston himself was but a younger son, so his career was truly dizzying. The new guard was young, black-haired and dark-skinned like a Dornishman, and green-eyed like Aegon himself; many young ladies at court considered him handsome, gallant, and a true model of chivalry; the older ones generally agreed with them, but considered him too young for a white cloak.
Aegon did not protest against his niece's ladies-in-waiting, did not protest against the septas, did not protest against the Kingsguard either, but only said to his sworn shield:
"I do not understand, Dennis. Why do they send a white cloak to escort a carriage with noble maidens?"
"Do you think they will hang on him?"
"I think they will lay themselves in stacks before him. Could they not appoint someone older?"
"Well, septas will be with them," Dennis scratched his piebald head. "Perhaps Ser Harrold wants to test this Cole."
"A test by temptation," drawled Aegon. "Truly, I would even ride by land to look at such a thing."
"And be tempted yourself?" the sworn shield could not restrain himself.
"Let a Rhoynar snake into my bed? Have mercy, Meraxes! Better the Bronze Bitch."
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