Part Two - A lesson in Humility
Hidden in one of the abandoned outposts by the docks, Vaegon watched as the children hustled into the room, Olyvar lighting the fireplace while Rhaenyra and Elinda fussed over the children. He turned to the ship captain, a Gawen or Gared Snow.
“Lord Gallbart Glover replaced everyone on the ship, making sure those loyal to Late Lord Rickon were escorting the young Lordling and the little miss.” The captain wringed the cap he was holding, his northern brogue quivered nervously. “We wanted to postpone the trip when we received the news about the storm but we couldn't have Lord Bennard suspect us so we had to leave, hoping to reach the islands before the worst struck us.”
“Damn Viserys!” Vaegon cursed. “To let the damned Hightowers meddle in the matter of succession?!” He then remembered the audience and tucked away both the letter from the Glovers and the officious note from Bennard Stark for the council to read later. “We can’t bring the Starks heirs to Dragon Keep, the delegates from King’s Landing are still here. I will not give Otto Hightower any opportunity to meddle with Stepstones.”
“They can stay with me.” Olyvar stood up from the fireplace. “I have space and both Eds and Kriss are staying with me now because of the storm so we can keep an eye on them till the delegates leave.” He smiled at the children who stared at him apprehensively.
“What?! Why is that man staying with you?” Vaegon does not like Edmondo Sand (he, however, is fond of little Kriss, he has such an intelligent mind and very eager to cultivate it) and his interest in his son. No, Olyvar needs a spectacular match that would make him happy and a mere bastard blacksmith does not cut it at all, hmph.
Olyvar rolled his eyes, knowing quite well his uncle’s opinion on his friend. “Their home aren’t secure enough to withstand the storm and Eds doesn’t want to stray far from his forge in case anyone needs repairs. We can hide the ship and the crew in Pryr if Grey Ghost is willing to tow the ship there.”
“We have to hurry then.” Rhaenyra looked out the window, “before more people would notice the ship.” She turned to Cregan and Sara, smiling at them. “Lord Stark, as much as I wanted to house you and your sister in my castle, there is a delegation from King’s Landing currently visiting Stepstones. We do not know if your presence here would mean and I rather not erred. Olyvar,” She grabbed Ollie close, “is my uncle, son to my late aunt Gael. He will keep you safe till the delegation leaves and you can come stay with me afterwards.”
“I have a boy currently living with me.” Ollie crouches down to the same level as the children. “His name is Kriss and he is six years old. He would be excited to show you around the islands when the storm let up. And most importantly we can go there on my dragon.”
“Dragon?” For a split second, Cregan looked very excited before smothering his expression. Olyvar chuckled, thankfully he was used to flying with Kriss on Dusk (much to Ed’s despair). “Yes. I can even take you to Felstrong so you can visit the Weirwood tree to pray.”
“You have a weirwood tree?” Cregan asked in wonder. He was worried he might be too far from his faith when he was sent away to Stepstones.
“It’s new but we do have people here who follow the Old Gods here and in Stepstones we practice religious tolerance for all.”Rhaenyra smiled.
Cregan looked at the both of them before nodding cautiously, deciding to trust them for now.
“This is a problem.” Martyn passed the letter to Prunella Celtigar. “The letter demands that the princess keep Lord Stark here as a ward and at the same time, canceling our trading agreement with the North, it seems Lord Bennard Stark is doing everything to cut ties, making it harder for Lord Cregan to return home.”
“How does this affect our wood imports from the North?” Rhaenyra, having changed into warm clothes the moment she reached the castle, called for an emergency council meeting, asking the Strong sisters to distract their guests and to make sure no one was spying on the meeting.
“Thankfully we received the latest shipments of oak trees from Bear Island last week and Ironwood from the Forresters but other than that we might have to figure out another way for our wood import.” Her steward explained. “We can try to mitigate this problem by finally exploring Serpentholm and reaching out to Vale to purchase wood from them but that would take at least a year before we can see the result.”
“Do that. Send the Pearl Cove Velaryons with our offers to Lady Jeyne.” Rhaenyra command. “I trust my cousin would accept our offer. Now, for Lord Cregan Stark and his half-sister, uncle Olyvar took them with him to Scarwood. I much rather both of them be kept hidden while our guests are here.”
“Damn Viserys!” Daemon cursed. “He shamed our family and the Crown by letting the damned Hightowers interfere with the North! To name a second son over a male son?!! What precedent is he trying to prove to Westeros?!”
“He already showed everyone his spinelessness by disinheriting the Princess from the crown. And now with the king letting Otto Hightower intervene with the Northern succession, what’s stopping him from meddling with Stepstones?” Martyn points out, everyone looking at each other in fear.
“He already is.” Rhaella pointed out. “By sending his own son, Gwayne to court Rhaenyra. What would stop him from manipulating Viserys into marrying the boy off to Rhaenyra?”
Vaegon, who was staring out the window and at the storm brewing outside, muttered loudly. “I’ll feed the damned boy to Grey Ghost and then burn the Iron Throne with that stupid boy in it, Kinslaying be damned.”
“UNCLE!!” “LORD VAEGON!!” “I’LL HELP!”
Daemon then yelped when Rhaella whacked him on the chest. “Don’t encourage him Daemon!” The elder hissed. “No, Vaegon, you will do no such thing, remember the guest rites.”
“But the damned boy is harassing Rhaenyra!” Vaegon did not whine. “And now there’s that Velaryon boy we have to worry about, I do not like this at all.” He harrumphed loudly.
“Viserys will honor the agreement made when Rhaenyra took over Stepstones. And if he doesn’t, we will figure out a way to protect her.” Rhaella soothed the men in her family. Rhaenyra smiled tentatively at her great grandaunt, thankful there was someone who was sane in the meeting.
Harwin, forced to take the day off after half-drowned during last night’s flight, was wandering around the castle. Thanks to the hot stew the princess sent to him for breakfast, warm clothes and Alys’s tincture, the knight was feeling less like death warmed over and more like his usual self.
He was looking for one of his siblings (or young Daeron Velaryon, the young squire he and Joffrey Arryn co-shared while Ser Aemon Celtigar, sorry, Darke, was away on paternity leave) when someone accosted him loudly.
He turned to see Ser Gwayne Hightower stepped out from one of the alcoves, sneering at him. Noticing that he was once again without his escorts, Harwin signaled one of the maids walking past him to get reinforcement.
“Ser Gwayne.” He said with a bland tone. “Skipping out on your escort. Again.”
“I don’t need to be escorted like a criminal when I’m here to court the Princess.” Gwayne hissed at him. “What kind of guard dog are you, letting the princess go on a dangerous outing last night?”
“Princess Rhaenyra is an accomplished dragon rider and an independent woman with her own mind. If she wants to take a flight in the middle of the night, I would be there to keep her safe as her sworn shield and not stop her like I’m her gaoler.”
“When we are married, all this nonsense about flying will stop. She won’t have time as it is as she would need to spend them on our children. And you won’t even be here as I will take over as her protector and regent.” Gwayne gloated.
Harwin took a deep breath, reminding himself that Rhaenyra would not like it if he broke Ser Gwayne’s bones to defend her honor. Though, come to think of it….
“Then you don’t mind demonstrating that determination of yours?” His smile was ferocious.
Gwayne let out a loud yelp as he fell down to the floor yet again.
Harwin had cleverly tricked him into a bout down at the training hall (as the training yard was currently flooded) and cheerfully trounced the arrogant knight much to the squires and pages delight. Even now, more people were crowding in to watch the Princess’s shield teaching the annoying man a lesson.
“Again, Ser Gwayne?” Harwin suppressed his smile, happy he had a chance to exercise that day. (And the fact the man was currently in bruises from his attacks. He was lucky Harwin insisted on using practice swords and not real steels but again, he really does not want to disappoint his beloved princess.)
Gwayne stabbed forward with his wooden sword, looking for an opening, cursing loudly as his feint failed, opening himself to an attack that had his right arm quacking from the whacking he received from Harwin.
“I yield.” He hissed before storming off, the audiences cheering for the victor. Ser Harwin smiled as he passed his weapon to one of the pages before leaving the hall with a smile on his face.
He wonders if the Princess would let him lurk around her so he can bask in her presence.
Later that night, Rhaenyra tilted her head in confusion as she stared at Ser Gwayne trying to eat his dinner without agitating his obvious bruises.
“Did something happen while I was sleeping?” She asked in bemusement as her ladies giggled and Harwin smothered a smile.