I wonder what posessed Rhaekar to make a member of the house that was deposed in favour of him his spymaster. It's hardly a recipe for success...
Valyrian Steel: A Game of Thrones Mod AAR
- Thread starter Henry v. Keiper
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What I find especially ironic is that Hugh was one of the ones mocking her in the tent right along with Daemon, and yet she seems to gloss over it in her recollections of him as a hero (by whatever twisted standard passes for heroism in her brain) and pin all the blame on Daemon. What a deliciously spiteful mind...
That latest piece is a great example of how spite and envy can lead a person to dark actions. Well done!
Earlier chapters had suggested that he was showing mercy to House Darklyn after they were deposed, and many members executed. Also, he trusts in her skill as a spymaster, in the same way he tries to surround himself with others of great skill.
However, you are right, it does lead to potential... conflicts. In fairness, Annara is one of the few people in House Darklyn who actually want Rhaekar dead.
Put on your horns and grab your pitchfork, because I'm about to play devil's advocate. In her last POV chapter, it was Daemon who brought unwanted attention to her, then used it to make a comment on her weight. Hugh laughed with them all, sure, but Daemon had been the instigator, and hence the full brunt of her scorn. Hence why, when the Hammer was brought down on the Targaryens, she didn't care much - and was in fact overjoyed - that Daemon ended up dead. (In fact, if you look back at her chapter, one of the first things she thinks about when she interacts with Daemon is "I hope to see you hang for this, dragonspawn." This ended up being a prophecy.)
Thank ye. Annara will definitely have a further part to play.
Heh, fair point.
Nevertheless, I do wonder if her opinion of the man might have shifted somewhat were she to experience the Hammer's unique... appreciation of feminine charms
But of course at this stage it's all just idle speculation on a world that might have been.
Nevertheless, I do wonder if her opinion of the man might have shifted somewhat were she to experience the Hammer's unique... appreciation of feminine charms
But of course at this stage it's all just idle speculation on a world that might have been.
Heh, fair point.
Nevertheless, I do wonder if her opinion of the man might have shifted somewhat were she to experience the Hammer's unique... appreciation of feminine charms
Well, he only beat up attractive women... so she wouldn't have cared one bit. In fact, she probably would have cheered him on.
Hugh: *slaps hooker who laughed*
Girls: "GASP!"
Rhaekar: "GASP!"
Annara: "Now the other cheek!"
OK, maybe they would have been perfect for each other. Imagine what a royal couple they would have made
OK, maybe they would have been perfect for each other. Imagine what a royal couple they would have made
And so begin the fanfictions...
Chapter 18
Elonne
It had taken a while to put aside enough coin to leave King’s Landing, but she had done it. She left the city with nothing but the clothes on her back and her usual scarlet cloak, along with a few food provisions. She followed the merchants that moved along the Kingsroad, then split off towards the north through Rosby. She paid to ride on the cartons with vegetables and other supplies, trying to avoid walking as much as she could. There were a surprising number of merchants going in that direction, with most of them headed towards Maidenpool.
When she arrived at Duskendale, she was surprised to see quite a bit of activity. The entire town appeared to be moving about the streets, carrying supplies of wood, or various kinds of wheat and fruit. She walked towards one end of the town, just within sight of the Dun Fort, and saw a group of men working on the raising of several square structures. She saw two craftsmen working on the individual pieces of the buildings. One was quite old, and his skin seemed hardened and withered from work. The other was younger, but not too far behind his companion, for gray was already coating the sides of his head.
When she asked the older one what was going on, the craftsman waved his saw about towards the large, wooden structure behind him. “There has been much fillin’ of storehouses. Lord Rhaekar wants a good portion of this ‘ere harvest put aside, just in case winter should ever come.”
“‘e is a good enough lord,” another craftsman remarked. “Got a good ‘ead on ‘is shoulders, unlike many. Besides, not many can say their lord’s a kingmaker, eh?”
“Aye, we lucky enough what ‘e turned down t’ crown… Seven knows what dunderhead might ‘ave taken over Duskendale after ‘e left for t’ throne.”
“Maybe one o’ them Darklyns. Right bloomin’ nutters, ‘ey is.”
Elonne glanced from the storehouse towards the Dun Fort, then back again. Her eyes traveled along the various groups of people carrying baskets and barrels towards the castle. “Why are some of these harvests being taken to the Dun Fort, then?”
The older craftsman chuckled. “Oh, well, that be because m’lord Rhaekar is havin’ a feast. Rememberin’ ‘is old friend Nettles.”
“Nettles, the dragonrider?”
“Aye, she gone t’ the Seven now. In life she was lover o’ t’ Hammer – though whats I ‘eard, she weren’t too keen on ‘im near t’ end o’ ‘is life.”
The other craftsman lowered his voice. “They say ‘e had the Stranger for a bedmate.”
“Nah, come off it! That be ‘n insult to the Stranger!”
The two men gave a hearty laugh, then returned to their work. As sawing returned to Elonne’s ears, her eyes glanced back at the castle. She saw the people traveling towards the open portcullis, freely. There were footmen posted at the gates, glancing in barrels and baskets, but otherwise offering no resistance to the flow of people going in. After a good while, Elonne turned back to the two men. “Is there any more that needs to be delivered?”
One of the craftsman paused mid-saw. “Eh, what?”
“Is there any more of the harvest that must be delivered to the Dun Fort?”
“No, little missy, ye best be off wit-”
“Oye, yes there is.”
“Eh?”
The other craftsman pointed behind the older one. The latter turned around. His graying eyes rested on a single basket, covered in cloth, that was propped up on a table a few feet from him. His gnarled, vein-covered hand reached out and lifted up the cloth. A green bottle rested inside, a liquid of some unknown identity sloshing around. “Oye, so there is. Some wine, no doubt. Or maybe some of that Dornish stuff. Who knows.” He lifted it from the table with a grunt, then turned and stuck his arm out towards Elonne. “‘ere, love. Get on with it, then.”
Elonne’s eyes glimmered in the sunlight as she saw the basket held out for her. Her lips curled into a grin. Her grin widened into a toothy smile. Her long fingers reached out and curled around the handle of the basket. It must have been a heavy load, but her mind told it was as light as air. She gave a terse curtsy to the men, then turned and dashed away towards the line of smallfolk entering the Dun Fort.
It was quite a while before she reached gates. There were two young men wearing the light armor of footmen, and armed with spears. Tabards over the armor bore the familiar white unicorn, a sight Elonne had grown to love and admire so much. One of the foomen, a big-nosed fellow, caught sight of Elonne’s basket. He peered at the cloth over the top for a while, then, lifting up his hand, curled his fingers towards the sky. Elonne caught on to the gesture quickly, and lifted the cloth up to reveal the bottle underneath. The footman’s eyes at once lit up, then he shot Elonne a grin:
“Hey, how about sharing that? I have ten dragons for you if you let me get a swig.”
Elonne raised an eyebrow. “Uh… this is for the feast.”
“He just jokin’ with ya, love,” said the other footman, a lanky boy whose armor seemed too big for him. “Ronnel, ya know ya cannot be drinkin’ on the job. Besides, if ya had ten dragons, would ya be standin’ out here all day?”
“A harmless jest.” He shot Elonne a wink, then gave sigh. “A good swig would taste good about now, though.”
“And what if the Unicorn Prince finds out ya was drinkin’ on the job, hm?”
“You know that I know that you know that I know better than that, Lorys.” The footman cleared his throat, then lifted up a finger. “A unicorn may look noble...”
Both men finished the last part. “...but it still has a horn.” They shared a chuckle, then the first footman motioned with his thumb. “Go on, lady. Just a little mummer’s farce.”
“Yes, get goin’, or ol’ Ronnel will throw his sweet poetry your way.”
“Ah, that would be a good idea, Lorys.” The first footman took on a dramatic tone in his voice as he waved his arm towards Elonne. “May someone fetch this aching spirit of mine a glass? For I have found myself the very similitude of what one might call a tall serving of water...”
Elonne giggled nervously and waved hand. “Oh stop, you big lug.” She continued on under the open portcullis, her feet moving a little faster than before.
As she moved along the line of people still traversing towards the interior, she took notice of activity off to the sight. Her eyes peered down a way, towards a group of men sparring. One of them had long-flowing silver hair. It took only a moment for Elonne to realize who it was.
It was Lord Rhaekar himself, and he was sparring in the courtyard with other soldiers. It was undoubtedly him, for having seen him as close a hug, there was no denying him seeing him across a castle courtyard. A few older men in armor stood about him, while he spared with a wooden long sword against a man with a wooden shield and short sword. The Unicorn Prince brought the faux blade down again and again, while the man blocked. In a split second, the man swung his shield, right at Rhaekar’s chest. The lord would have been struck dead in the center had he not ducked out of the way. As he swung back, his arms improvised, and he used the swinging of his body to bring his arms down, sword hilt in his grip. As the long blade ended its arch, it struck the man in the soft side. The man groaned and winced, curling sideways as he lurched to the side.
Rhaekar turned the sword and struck the tip of it against the ground. He nodded and grinned. “Finally. I landed one.”
“M’lord may wish to rest,” one of the older men said. “You have have marked my man, but you have been marked too many times this morning. One more, and Maester Albar may have to be called.”
Rhaekar’s eyes tilted to the side in thought. “Well, we definitely do not want that. Albar found a particularly quaint cloud formation above the castle that has kept him occupied since morning. It would be rude to break his concentration.” He held up the sword, then tossed it into the air. Another older man caught it. “We shall rest, then. Until tomorrow.”
He turned to head towards the walls. Elonne immediately turned away, just before he would be able to see her face. Feeling a rush of excitement come over her, she immediately scurried along the crowd heading into the keep. She followed the trail, like a line of ants, towards the scullery, where supplies were being check-marked and counted. When it was her turn, a middle-aged gentleman glanced at her basket, tapped the bottle with his quill, and muttered under his breath as he marked something on a long scroll. “Off wit’ ya,” he remarked.
Elonne let go of the basket and curtsied, then hurried out of the scullery, passing by the other people coming in. She was nearing the entrance of the Dun Fort keep when she saw an open hallway leading even deeper into the fortress. Curiosity now overtook her. This was… where the Unicorn Prince and his family stayed. This was where they lived. This was where their family stayed, and where their daughter would grow up. Perhaps she could… entertain a curious glance or two. Just explore a hallway, here and there. Not too far, lest a guard or someone else wonder just who she was.
Throwing caution into the wind, Elonne went for it. She walked away from the line of people heading in and out of the scullery, and went down the stony hallway. As she walked, she passed by small banners hung along the walls. Some bore the familiar triple-headed dragon of House Targaryen, while others bore the familiar white unicorn of House Valzyren. As she reached the end of the hallway, it opened up into a little room. A door rested at one end, shut tight. At the other end, two banners bore the similitude of two figures. One was a tall, stern-looking man, with long white hair and dark armor. Another bore a softer, kinder looking woman, hands clasped over her lovely green dress, with long flowing hair that went down to the small of her back. Elonne recognized both of them, in some strange way: the man had the hair and demeanor of Rhaekar, while the woman’s face seemed much more like the face of the Unicorn Prince.
The door opened.
Elonne spun around, her scarlet dress whirling about her legs.
“Bother the cries,” said a white-haired woman. “Tell the nurse that Targaryens learn to ride dragons without their mothers. Albar himself said it is good the child learn to sleep without me always there.”
Elonne’s face flushed. It was a young woman – a few years younger than her – and wearing fine blue silken robes that clung to her slim figure. She was accompanied by some women in plainer clothes, who just nodded to her again and again. The woman’s hands were clasped together before her stomach, one seemingly holding the other, which lay still against her her belly. When she turned her purple eyes and caught sight of Elonne, the Riverlander girl immediately recognized her.
“Who are you?” Rhaena asked.
“I...” Elonne felt her throat choke up.
“Are you the new candidate?” Rhaena asked, her tone terse.
Elonne wasn’t sure how to respond to that – but something within her told her to say yes, so she gave a few quick nods.
Rhaena turned to the women in plain robes. “Away with you.” The bowed and left in a scuffle, like chickens scared away by the farmer. Rhaena turned her purple eyes back to Elonne, her face stone-like. Those hands at her belly remained still. “You. Come with me.”
It suddenly struck Elonne that she could be volunteering for anything at this point. As Rhaena turned and walked down the hall, heading further away from the scullery crowd and deeper into the Dun Fort, Elonne followed behind, trying to match the lady’s swift steps. Her mind was a flurry with guesses at what she had just gotten herself into. Was she going to be nursemaid for Laena? She could think of no less worthy bosom than her own for the Unicorn Prince’s heir to suck from. Was she going to clean the pig troughs? The sort of hard work did not sound amusing to her in the least. Even less did the prospect of being a stable girl, or one of the maids to go about the castle, cleaning every nook and cranny. There was some relief, therefore, when Rhaena led her up the steps, and along what appeared to be the personal rooms of the castle officials. All the while they walked, the Targaryen girl said not a word. When they approached a door guarded by a footman, Rhaena did not even acknowledge the man as he bowed his head and stepped aside. She simply got to the door, opened it, and rushed in.
“Shut the door behind you,” came Rhaena’s voice from the open doorway.
Elonne gave the guardsman a polite smile, then entered into the room and followed her command. As soon as the door was shut, she turned… and found herself in a lady’s private chamber. On one side, near a window, was a nook. Several wooden cabinets lined the walls, finely carved so that the corners resembled the heads of dragons. A large vanity mirror rested against another wall, besides some arched doorways, leading into another section of the room. A plush chair, with a small table at its side, sat in the middle of the room. A tray rested beside the chair and table, with a series of feminine items resting atop them. Elonne noticed a brush, some bottles of what must have been perfume, and several other knickknacks.
“This is where you shall prepare me for feasts, balls, and even bed,” Rhaena said. She turned and shot her another stone-faced stair. “If you are chosen, that is.”
Elonne hesitated before providing a curtsy. It suddenly dawned on her just what she had gotten herself into: she was here to be Lady Rhaena Targaryen’s lady-in-waiting. It hadn’t quite sunken into her mind yet, but as she looked about the room, seeing it all surrounding Rhaena herself, her mind began to swirl all the more.
“I want to see how you handle yourself initially.” Rhaena walked around the chair, the blue fabric of the dress trailing behind her. When she got to the front of the chair, she flung some of the skirt past her feet, then sat down. Her pose was straight, her legs rested with their knees together, and her face stared forward. “Come here.”
Elonne approached with timid steps. As she approached, Rhaena turned her head towards her left sleeve, then lifted up her arm. Elonne noticed how the Targaryen girl seemed to keep her fingers bent slightly, pointed forward, with her thumb resting near the side of the hand. As she lifted up her arm, her other hand – which moved about perfectly fine – gripped the end of her sleeve, and tugged it back. At once she revealed a series of brown straps, going down along her arm towards her elbow. At her hand, they ended at the wrist, wrapping around like a bracelet. Her other hand curled its fingers about, untying one knot along the brown straps after the other. She kept working up towards her wrist, the straps sliding off her arm as each one swung free. Finally, she got to her wrist.
Then the hand slipped off.
There, where a hand had used to be, was a hideous stump. The flesh curled along her arm, remaining smooth until it came near the wrist. There, the flesh became gnarled and twisted. It was rough, like an aged stone, and little bumps could be seen where a the strings of a physician or a maester had done their work. When the stump rested itself on the small, round table besides the chair, Rhaena turned her eyes and stared at Elonne. Her eyes were hard, but they also seemed… curious. It was a strange mixture to be sure, and one Elonne had never seen before. Those purple eyes looked at Elonne, gazing at her face. It was a challenge… a challenge… at what? To duel? No, not to duel. To say something? Perhaps… Elonne’s face soon broke away from Rhaena’s and she looked down at the stump.
It only last a moment before her eyes returned to the lady. She held up the brush. “May I have the honor of brushing your hair, m’lady?”
Rhaena studied Elonne for a good bit longer. Suddenly, that strange light in her eyes faded. It was calmed, like a dying fire, and her lips curled into a smile. “Yes. Yes you may.” She turned her head away. The dark bristles disappeared within the silver strands. The locks straightened out as Elonne brought the brush down. “What is your name?”
“Elonne, m’lady.”
“Where are you from?”
“The Riverlands.” Rhaena went silent then, and Elonne waited a few strokes before taking the initiative. “I have heard of what happened to you, m’lady. May I say you still look beautiful, despite all you have been through.”
Rhaena lifted her chin up. The fabric of her skirt shifted as her legs crossed. “Jelmamza.”
Scurrying came from a nearby corner. When Elonne lifted her head, she almost couldn’t believe what she saw. A huge lizard, perhaps as large as a medium-sized dog, curled its upper around the entryway. It was an ugly, strange-looking creature. Elonne might have screamed, except that she recognized the beast from before. Yes, she could see the resemblance in that wretched, misshaped face. Back then, the beast had been the size of a kitten, and had rested snugly on Lady Rhaena’s shoulders. Now, however, it was big enough to bite a man’s head off. It looked at Rhaena and dropped its maw, a large, moist tongue hanging out. It panted a few times, then snapped its mouth shut when it caught sight of Elonne. It tilted its head, then blinked twice.
“Her name is Elonne, of the Riverlands,” Rhaena said. “Come here, Jem-Jem, my darling. Come to your mother.”
The creature dropped its mouth again. Saliva and spit dripped onto the stone floor. It waddled over towards the Lady of Duskendale, the tail swaying behind it. Its wings were folded at its side, and the beast seemed to know better than to try and spread it out indoors – nonetheless, Elonne was absolutely certain if it did try, she and Rhaena would be squished against the wall. For now the creature seemed content to be moving on all fours. It came up to Rhaena and then rested its ugly face upon the lady’s lap. She lifted her hand and ran her slender fingers between the creature’s horns. The dark eyes that stared up from the reptilian sockets gleamed with adoration.
“Is Jem-Jem its name?” Elonne asked.
“Her full name is Jelmamza,” Rhaena explained, “but Jem-Jem is what I call her. She answers only to me. You should not be worried, however. She is friendly enough… to those I like.”
A sense of courage came from within Elonne as she stared at the creature, its head cradled on her master’s lap like a wolfhound enjoying its master’s company after a hunt. She held out her hand, extending her arm across Rhaena and towards the beast. Jelmamza stared at the hand as it approached. When it was quite close, the dragon actually tilted its head, and offered the space between the horns to this new woman. It closed its eyes as Elonne began to gently brush along the top of its head. The scales felt smooth, and warm.
“Oh, forgive me.”
Elonne jumped a little and turned. There, at the doorway, was Rhaekar. Sweat rolled down the sides of his head, and parts of his tunic clung to his form. A single strand of silver hair lay before his face. He looked back and forth, between Elonne and Rhaena and back again. “I did not realize you were with company, my lady.”
Rhaena only shot her husband a cursory glance before turning her face away. “Lord husband...” Her voice was low, and spoke only out of politeness.
Elonne realized then her entire face and most of her hair was exposed. Her hands lunged up to grab her cowl, but froze when she realized that would be far too obvious. She dropped her hands again and curtsied, turning her face towards the ground. “Good afternoon, m’lord.” Silence. Elonne became aware that Rhaekar was staring at her. She looked up at him, then turned away. She feigned the need to continue brushing the lady’s hair in order to avoid looking directly at the lord.
Rhaekar spoke again. “Have we… met before?”
“N-no, m’lord,” came the words from Elonne’s throat.
“Lord husband,” Rhaena said. She didn’t turn her head as Elonne brushed. “This is Elonne of the Riverlands. I wish to hire her as my personal attendant.”
“Do you? Has she performed well?”
“Yes. She is not afraid of Jem-Jem...” She turned her purple eyes, giving her husband a sideways glance. “And, unlike the others, she did not scream at me.”
A smile came over Rhaekar’s lips. He turned to Elonne and nodded. “Very well. I will speak with Tristifer, our steward, and he will see to it that you are granted your own quarters with the other ladies.” He cleared his throat. “In the meantime, I wished to inform you, my wife, that the cooks have alerted me that they are close to their full supplies. They suggest having the feast a bit earlier so… that is most likely what we will do.”
“Very well, my lord husband,” said Rhaena. She still stared forward. Rhaekar stood there, staring at her. Elonne could see, out of the corner of her eye, that the lord frowned at his wife. His violet eyes glimmered as the silence lingered in the room. At last, he bowed and left the room.
“Your lord husband is a noble man.” Elonne said. She continued to send the dark brush down along the silver, soft hair. She felt like she was handling the finest fabric from Essos.
“A little too noble for his own good, at times,” Rhaena remarked. She held the deformed stump of her hand towards her dragon. The beast opened its mouth, revealing rows of sharp teeth. The wet, moist tongue stuck out, and made contact with the stump. It moistened and wet every bump and scar that rested there. “When we are done here, I will choose my perfume and dress. I will need your assistance in dressing. In the meantime...” She closed her eyes, and leaned her head back slightly. “That is most relaxing...”
As she continued to brush, at her lady’s behest, a smile came over the Riverlander’s lips. A smile she had not given since long, long ago, before the war, before Hugh the Hammer, before the whorehouse… but now she was giving it. It came from this simple fact: Elonne had just became Rhaena Targaryen’s personal attendant.
Hours later, Rhaena and Elonne made their way down into the dining hall. Rhaena had decked a black dress with red trimmings. Her dragon rested on her shoulders, wrapped around it like a kitten on its beloved master. Elonne had been given a red dress to wear – it was a plain one, but was still far greater than any she had worn in her lifetime. It felt comfortable against her skin, and Elonne, for the first time in a long while, felt legitimately beautiful on the inside. Rhaena had even granted Elonne a scarlet thread to tie her hair together with into a ponytail. As they entered the hall, Elonne noticed a few of those inside shoot her double glances: the first to see that Rhaena had arrived, the second to see that Rhaena had arrived with a new woman. It struck Elonne that she was now someone important, for she now attended a Targaryen woman – the last Targaryen in all of Westeros, in fact. What a chance this was, to go from a girl born to smallfolk in the Riverlands, and now with one of the most esteemed bloodlines in the world.
Rhaekar was seated there, at the top of the dais, along a long table. Many other members of his council were there, most of whom Elonne did not recognize. Beside Rhaekar himself was a man with a chain around his neck, who must have been the maester the lord had mentioned earlier. He had already placed a large amount of food on his plate, though he had not eaten it. Elonne pondered how a man as thin as him could eat so much, without a concern for weight. If he gained weight, would he choke on his own maester chain? The thought caused her lips to smile, as she imagined some bulbous-headed maester in the Citadel turning purple from too much eating.
When Rhaena got to her chair, Elonne pulled it out for her, and helped her to sit. An empty chair rested beside her lady, which she offered to Elonne. It felt quite strange sitting there, staring down at all the guests down in the common area of the room. Once again, it was strange to ponder how far she had come.
“We waited for you, before eating,” Rhaekar remarked to Rhaena with a slight smile.
“How kind of you,” Rhaena murmured.
Rhaekar frowned, but said no more as he turned his head away. Instead, he focused on the man seated to his right. “You know, Albar, I never did thank you properly for the service you did, in Kings Landing.”
The maestar turned and considered the Unicorn Prince a moment. “My lord?”
“I mean during Hugh Hammer’s siege, Albar. While defenses crumbled, walls fell, and chaos engulfed the city, you took a young girl pregnant with my child and made certain she was whisked to safety.” He held up his goblet, then nodded his head. “I know few knights who could show such clear thinking under those circumstances.”
Albar shrugged. “It was much for concern over my neck as theirs, my lord.”
“All the same, it has meant a lot to me. As has your companionship. You have made trips to the cliffs far less dull.”
The maester leaned back in his chair and grinned. He held up his goblet. “To many trips to the cliffs, then.”
Rhaekar lifted up his own goblet and tapped the maester’s. The metal cups made little clinks. “To the white cliffs of Duskendale.”
The feast continued on as normal. Elonne felt that she might have eaten too much as well, though in consideration she ate far less than some in the room. Rhaena excused herself as many of the top officials were heading for bed. Elonne accompanied her close to her room, then was told that she would no longer be needed. Rhaena asked Elonne to meet her in her private chambers in the morning, and they would begin their first day together. Elonne curtsied and began to leave her lady.
She hadn’t gone too far before she saw Lord Rhaekar coming the other way. He was heading towards his room, and rubbing his eyes as he walked. When he looked up, his violet eyes were half-open, and his boots stepped only at half-a-pace. When he saw Elonne, he grinned and nodded his head. “Is my wife treating you kindly?”
“Very kindly, m’lord.”
“Very good. Have a good night.”
Elonne curtsied, then continued on. She passed by him without making eye contact again. She had gone towards the end of the hallway when she heard a voice:
“One more thing, Elonne.”
Elonne turned and bowed her head. “Yes, m’lord?”
Rhaekar took a few steps towards her. He tilted his head, some of the locks of his silver hair falling down to the side as he did so. His violet eyes rested on the girl. Elonne sensed that he seemed to be… studying her. No, not studying… waiting. She at last lifted her gaze, and met him. Their eyes lingered on one another for quite some time. At last, Rhaekar spoke:
“I am most happy to see your bruises have healed. Mine always do.”
Elonne’s eyes widened. She could feel the warmth flood her cheeks, despite herself. Rhaekar just gave a warm, father-like smile, then turned and walked away. Elonne stared at his back as he moved further and further down the hall. Even after Rhaekar had disappeared around a corner, Elonne continued to stand there, within the walls of the Dun Fort, dumbstruck.
Gorgeous writing as always. I particularily liked your attention to detail even towards minor characters. I suppose Rheaker is lucky that his wife's closest attendant is someone who is so devoted to him. I wonder if Jemamza will be the dragon that Rhaena is finally able to tame and how House Valzyren will deal with the upcoming winter.
Elonne certainly seems to go from one chance encounter to another -- though, reading between the lines, with her fortitude, initiative, and determination it can certainly be argued that she makes her own luck. Either way, going from a common whore to the right hand of one of the most prestigious women in the Seven Kingdoms is no mean feat, and Elonne's own rise can be described as no less than meteoric.
What I think I like most about this update is how restrained it is. There is a lot of glance and small motions of head and hand. Little words, small questions, and comments about bruises.
It makes the update more powerful by far.
It makes the update more powerful by far.
Well, I just marathoned this whole thread. Damn good read.
Also, remember me? I was among the first (if not THE first) to compare you to GRRM.
Also, remember me? I was among the first (if not THE first) to compare you to GRRM.
Luck and courage really helped Elonne however
You know, the fact that a single bottle of wine was sent to the castle sounds fishy, usually one would expect at least a bunch. And maybe I am reading too much between the lines but isn't green also the color of wildfire?
You know, the fact that a single bottle of wine was sent to the castle sounds fishy, usually one would expect at least a bunch. And maybe I am reading too much between the lines but isn't green also the color of wildfire?
It wouldn't be all that unusual if, perhaps, Lord Rhaekar had specifically ordered a single bottle of a particular vintage for his own personal use or for another particular reason, which does happen fairly often among connoisseurs (or so I am told).
Minor characters are important, I feel. It gives more life and flavor to the writing. That was something I always thought Victor Hugo did well (and Stephen King... not so well). Though I'm surprised nobody noticed the tiny reference I made to two other AARs with two specific minor characters.
Also no worries about Jelmamza. If any readers are worried that Rhaena is about to lose her OTHER hand, I can promise she will not.
Elonne has been a fun character to write, especially since she didn't actually make an appearance in the gameplay until the "new handmaiden" event. I wrote her back into the Hugh Hammer story arc to make things tied into it so that her character would be a little more developed and engaging than just "OH HAI NEW COURTIER."
Thanks for the kind words! I try to remind myself of the old rule "show, don't tell" for things like emotions or character thoughts. Especially in the scene between Elonne and Rhaena, everything is obviously important in how the characters relate to each other, such as in how Elonne reads and interprets Rhaena's actions.
Of course I remember you! And you just might have been. (Though I've mentioned before my wife has bad feelings about that.)
As for "marathoning" through the thread, good on you! I've done before a few times, and it's no easy feat.
MAYBE. MAYBE NOT. MAYBE IT'LL BE SUBPLOT #4052 THAT WILL NEVER GET RESOLVED! (Then I really will be like GRRM.)
I actually didn't mean that one bottle to mean anything, but I'm amused people are now pondering what it means. Maybe I'll make it mean something now. Reader opinion did influence Hugh Hammer's death, after all.
Or Albar needs it because the clouds proved to be disappointing.
I see Rhaena is still pissed about the lack of a crown on her head. Perhaps it's a sign for her to earn it. I also see that Elonne is a master thief, seeing how she infiltrated the Dun Fort.