( FOURTEEN FIRES )

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chapter 4: the eve of union.

SUPPER was seemingly pleasant for all but Vaella. Amongst the glow of the torches and candles illuminating the dining hall of Dragonstone, her displeasure could not be hidden within it's shadows as she picked away at a dish of sea fish and roasted vegetables. Entering the keep to find its halls dark and unwelcoming had been the beginning of her displeasure of her new home since arriving to Dragonstone, but she found the food might be a close second to her marriage in terms of misfortune. Her love for savoury food and delectable wines might be neglected in the foreign land she would be calling home now.

Already, she yearned for the warm climate of the capital. The Fourteen Fires offered warmth regardless of season, the rivers of lava illuminating the city from its foundation and allowing its glowing light to refract in the beautiful glass accents of the famous Valyrian architecture. Dragonstone, with its craggy rocks, salt, wind, and grass, was bleak in comparison. Yet, a volcanoe stood as a reminder to her home in the form of the Dragonmont where Opalia was currently residing in her new nesting grounds.

"We do apologize for the lack of variety in meats, Lord Vaeron," Aenar said from where he sat at the head of the long table. Behind him, a fire blazed in its hearth, offering a glow against his sharp features. "The island only offers mutton or fish in its typical yield. We have not established strong trading ties with the people of the mainland to facilitate a regular supply of other goods."

As to why they hadn't bothered looking toward the mainland, Vaella didn't know. All who sat at the table were of Valyria, the indomitable empire that had seen to the fall of the Ghiscari. Established colonies in lands far and wide. Why had they not sought to establish their own empire in the western mainland? Westeros, she'd heard it called before.

Perhaps they had not sought to reap what they could sow because they were nothing but lesser lords. 

"It is of no consequence of your hospitality," Vaeron replied as he lowered his chalice of wine from his lips. "Though this land does not offer the spices or delicacies that the Freehold and it's colonies have to offer, we accept your kind service regardless."

Vaella was disgusted with how desperately Aenar was clinging to the chances to appease her father. What he stood to gain. It was obvious since the moment they'd entered the keep that Aenar was trying his damndest to impress her father. He had went as far as showing them the Paethorys winter dragon on a tapestry he'd had commissioned in honor of her joining their house, a gesture her mother had found quite endearing.

Alas, Aenar's hospitality would never suffice to what the Freehold had to offer, with its luxuries and technology. Or what Maegon was meant to give her in her lifetime. The Targaryen's were trying their best to claw their way to rhe top, to a more prestigious position, but for whatever reason she could not determine. What else would he have to gain after earning her hand for his second son?

"We imported the best wine from the capital," Valaena told them from where she sat at Aenar's side with a pleasant expression. "For your arrival, and in celebration of the ceremony on the morrow." 

The ceremony had prodded at Vaella incessantly since she'd learned of its looming imminence on the prairie. Never had she heard of a marriage carrying out so quickly, nor would she have expected her father to accept it. Were the Targaryen's so desperate to secure their alliance with her house that they would rush such a formal thing? These people were seemingly saw no limits to their efforts.

"It is much appreciated," Vaeron said, swirling the chalice and it's contents before taking a sniff of the crimson liquid. "We would hope only for the best for our Vaella. She is indeed finding herself in less befitting accommodations to the capital," he glanced to Vaella momentarily before focusing back on Aenar. "But she will grow to love Dragonstone. With everything it has to offer."

It was obvious Aenar did not appreciate that slight.

"She has brought three eggs with her on the ship bearing her belongings and slave girl," Daevera told the Targaryen's with a shift in conversation. "As a token of good faith. She wishes for them to hatch to the children we will see from this frutiful union."

She was growing restless. Ready to retire to her new chambers and forget the day happened with some fitful slumber. But she could not leave, not without upsetting her father.

For the first time since sitting for supper, Vaella's gaze shifted to Gaemon. He was quiet and reserved, it seemed, silent as he allowed his father and brother carry on with her father and mother. He was a handsome man indeed, she finally admitted to herself, but she didn't know him yet. What sort of man he might be to her, this stranger she would soon share a bed with. Her loyalty to Maegon and everything they stood for seemingly held a knife to her back, daring her to back away from him and his memory in favor of moving on.

Whether she was the one holding the knife or not, she was unsure.

"As I am sure you are aware," Aenar sighed. "That we have released our slaves to their freedom on the island. Those that chose to stay have been enlisted as servants and guards." He sighed. "I have been told the elite in the Freehold sneer upon my decision to do so."

"We have heard," Vaeron replied. "I must admit I find it an odd practice, but this is your holdfast. I am not here to judge."

"We are not as prestigious as your house, Lord Vaeron," Monterys spoke from where he was seated. Vaella noticed how proper he seemed, with his straight stature and proper edicate. Likely meticulously groomed by Aenar from a young age. He filled the role of heir to his house well, and sadly reminded her of Maegon."So we are unfortunately not safe from the scrupulous opinions of the other lords at your side."

The Targaryen's departure from the capital had been quite an uproar, she'd be told. Vaella had only been a girl then, but the gossip had spread amongst the elite like wildfire. Whispers of their sudden uphevel from the Freehold had left many confused and even disgruntled, for what better place was there to be than the pinnacle of civilization? Having left nine years ago, they'd built Dragonstone with haste and planted themselves into the roots of the island they now called home. All driven by a foreboding dream had by their daughter, Daenys.

"Verily, I presume you find a sort of peace with the Narrow Sea between your keep and the capital, no?" Daevara asked them.

"We have," Valaena replied. "Though sometimes dreary here, there is a charm about the island. The dragons thrive in the Dragonmont's depths and there is endless land to the west unchartered to us. It is quite beautiful and accessible on dragonback."

"My dragon has finally reached rideable age within the last few moons," Daenys chimed in with her mother's words from where she sat next to her. She had not said much since their introduction at the commencement of supper, but she was kind enough it seemed. "If you would join me for a flight, I could show you the far reaches of the island."

"I would be be delighted," Vaella replied with as much kindness as she could muster. Daenys seemed to be a gentle young woman, and she had nothing to do with the marriage between Vaella and her brother. Perhaps she would suffice as another companion once Marlaena arrived.

As the conversation carried on without her, Vaella's gaze wandered the room the longer her parents spoke with the Targaryen's on pleasantries. She needed rest and seclusion if she were to arise on the morrow ready to bind herself to Gaemon for the rest of her days. As she found anything in the hall to distract herself with, she felt eyes on her. It formed an uncomfortable feeling in gut her that drew her attention to Gaemon. There, his indigo gaze locked with her own, and she froze.

"If it please you, my lady, I would take you on a tour of the grounds. The view from the battlemonts over the sea is quite beautiful."

The room fell silent almost instantly with Gaemon speaking his first words since supper had commenced. The excited looks of Valaena and Aenar almost convinced Vaella to deny his offer as soon as it was offered, but she fought her urge. If only to preserve her mother and father's image in front of the Targaryen's.

She could not look away from him as his offer hung in the air. Only the crackling of the fire managed to drown out some to silence, until she finally broke her inability to answer. Try as she might, she could not decipher his intentions. They were both being thrust into this union, but surely he had thought on what would become of it once everything was said and done?

"I would like that," Vaella replied with as much reserved composure she could.

"Fantastic!" Aenar exclaimed.

"Don't let him bore you with his talk of the sunset and stars," Monterys lightly jested from his seat. "He'll talk until your ears bleeding before he lathers his words onto canvas with his paint."

"Hush now, Monterys. You know your brother is quite skilled with a brush," Valaena criticized her eldest son.

"All is well, mother," Gaemon replied as he looked to her. Vaella could help but notice his sharp jawline, or the fact that the intruding thought of running her tongue along it flitted into her thoughts—

By Tyraxes, what was she thinking? The goddess of reason, wisdom, and intelligence herself would frown upon Vaella's intrusive thoughts and shame washed over her. Soon enough, her ears and cheeks burned and she wanted nothing more than to flee the room.

"How about a toast?" Aenar suggested, lifting his chalice and looking around the table.

Just as the others did, Vaella lifted her cup while trying yo stifle the grimace on her features.

"To the union of Gaemon and Vaella," Aenar exclaimed. Those seated at table clinked glasses together.

GAEMON had been telling the truth, Vaella realized, when they'd made their way up the battlemonts to watch the sun set. The view of the mainland from it's peaks was quite a site as the sun sunk  behind the cliffs, silloutetting the scene into an inky mass. Blush colors hung in the sky, mirroring against the rippling tide of the channel. Sea water crashed against the rocky shore of Dragonstone, contributing to the cacophony of noise.

Gaemon had shown her through the main halls and chambers of the keep, it's seemingly endless expanse of stone with no hint of the typical Valyrian accents of blown glass or vibrant colors. She'd been shown a walkway that led out into a cave so cavernous one would be able to land their dragon within it and dismount on the stone pathway that led inside the keep.

So far, her betrothed was quiet. Unsure of how to gauge him still, Vaella guarded herself in her words and her demeanor. The possibility of him being like the husbands she'd heard of in the capital truly terrified her. Privy in caving to their grotesque inner desires and liberal treatment of wives and daughters, the men of the capital were not simply just imperialists in the workings of the empire— but also their bed. Whoever may be lying in it.

Vaella prayed within everything she had in her that he proved to be like her father. That Gaemon may see her as an equal and never lie a hand on her.

"I am already well aware of your disdain for my house," Gaemon murmured as they both overlooked the channel. A soft breeze flowed passed them, tossing the loose strands of her hair. "I cannot blame you. I'm sure leaving the capital was quite a sacrifice."

Vaella sneered in response, taken aback by his words. "A sacrifice I did not commit willingly."

Gaemon hummed a slight laugh. She looked up to him with a glare, but her eyes could not ignore the sharp jawline she'd been so focused on before.

"Surely we would have both been married to those that which we were originally intended."

Vaella's anger flared. "What do you know of my intended?" This brute had said but a few sentences to her, and now wished to throw about subjects that were still very much raw to her heart?

"Yes. We were both intended for another. You, to yout brother, as I was told. And I, to my sister."

"Daenys?" Vaella muttered. Was she meant to fight for his loyalty in her own household, then? In favor of his married sister?

"No. Her name was Kaela," Vaella's features softened as realization washed over her. "Younger than me, but my father had betrothed us. We lost her when we were children. With Monterys as heir to our house, my father would not marry Daenys to anyone but him."

Guilt clung to Vaella as she stared out into the evening. The lull of the waves and cry of the gulls were not enough to shake the feeling uneasy feeling she'd set upon herself, much to her chagrin.

"Did you love her?"

Gaemon didn't answer for a moment, his gaze focused on the distance. "I think I did, perhaps. As much as children might be able to." He turned to look at her. "But that was years ago. Before we even left the Freehold. I have moved on. I only thought a bit of relation between us might do some good."

Vaella felt herself begin to relax. Perhaps she could allow herself to be alright with this arrangement... at least enough to not hate him with all she had. He was being forced into this just as much as she, she tried remind herself.

"I expect you to be my wife and perform your duties," Gaemon went on, his words a stark change from before. "Beyond that, you can do as you wish. If something becomes of us, so be it. Otherwise, I will not doom you into fighting for a loveless marriage."

Vaella's temper once against simmered. Her lip curled in anger and the urge to swipe him a cross the face was strong. "I am no prized brood mare for you Targaryen's to coddle and display."

She turned to leave in a fit of anger, but Gaemon's grip was suddenly on her hips, holding the bone like an anchor in sand. As she struggled, she found his strength infallible. She would not be able to move even if she tried.

"You're a fiery one," Gaemon murmured, their faces but inches apart. Her eyes made the path of a triangle as they darted from his eyes to his lips and back.

Regrettably, her body agreed all too well with what he had done. Her racing heart and pooling warmth told her enough. His actions were unsettling to be sure, but some part of her like his aggression. His straight forwardness. She could smell the sweetness of his breath, whatever soap he'd used to wash his hair that day.

"I will never harm you," he vowed in sincerity even as he held a firm grip on her. "You are a beautiful woman. That I cannot deny. Perhaps in this strife, we will find balance with one another."

"You dare lay a hand on me," Vaella uttered with venom with no regard to his words.

He smirked slightly. "It was a test.  It appears that you passed."

Letting go of her, Vaella was left with her pounding heart and roaring desire. Had she been touched starved so long that she was craving this stranger before her?

"And I did not harm you. I merely gripped the suppleness thereof."

Lost in confusion, she straightened herself and flattened the skirts of her dress. She cleared her throat, saying, "You wished to gauge my willingness to fight?" A tinge of horror washed over her as she expected he might be a vile lecher bent on seeing the suffering of women for his entertainment. "I daresay I will never love a man with such tendency for cruelty."

Gaemon shook his head. "No, I was not set on seeing your suffering. I needed to ensure you had a fight in you," he said. "My house is not as strong and mighty as yours. I needed to ensure that my wife would be the pillar to stand us for greatness. And fend against whatever ruin we might face." He gestured to her with a nod of his head. "You not only fight with your whit, but also your muscle. I admire that."

Though an aggresive way of going about it, Vaella strangely understood him. With the added benefit that she had discovered something about herself with this stranger,

"You wanted to determine if I met your standard," she stated matterfactly.

Gaemon shrugged. "Perhaps I did. My father is the one who arranged this union. Not I," he turned to rest he elbows on the stone of the battlemonts. "As much as I might have expected you to do the same, I wished to gauge the woman I will be binding myself to on the morrow."

Some part of her agreed with what he said. Though she'd analyzed that he would suffice in the way of his appearance, she'd wanted to determine if he would ever manage to level himself with the memory of Maegon and the person he was. She never expected to truly move on from him... but Gaemon may have found a way to begin by weaseling into her interests.

Perhaps they would find some common ground as time passed.

"Look," he pointed in the distance, to a dragon that was soaring over the water. The black dragon couldn't have been much larger than a horse. Vaella joined him on the battlemont, looking out.

"It's Balerion. Daenys's mount. Our youngest dragon."

Vaella watched the dragon glide over the channel, the tip of his tail trail over the surface of the water ans creating a ripple in his wake.

The Paethorys woman had a choice. She could maintain her vow to never give up on the memory of Maegon, living her life in quiet silence. Or she could join with the house she would soon be apart of, and see to the destruction of those that had taken him. To those that would come for the Targaryen's and Paethorys.

"If we find ourselves in an agreeable union," Vaella sighed as she watched Balerion fly. "We will see to it that the Freehold no longer looks down on us. We shall build our of strength in the west. Be damned those that sit under the Fourteen Fires," she murmured, forsaking the oath to never find love for her new house.