GOT : All Left Behind

"Incur the cost now and reap the rewards later? I pray your faith is well rewarded."

I was beginning to grasp just how much coin my dear friend had spent on this palace of his. One would have thought the massive gardens host to flowers from across the Seven Kingdoms or the walls built from the beautiful marble of Tarth or the vast quantities of fine Myrish glass that had been used in the windows would have been a dead giveaway.

But the sept had managed to outshine them all.

Though small, no sane mind would have ever seen fit to describe it as modest.

The walls were liberally covered in silver, masterfully wrought into depictions of scenes from the Seven-Pointed Star. The luster of silver was interspersed with the polished gleam of ivory, carved into more abstract shapes that directed attention to the most magnificent of the silver behind the septon's pulpit.

Even the statues of the Seven Themselves had been artfully crafted, each a towering golden sculpture that seemed to erupt from each of the seven corners, hands reaching up towards the domed ceiling as though to support the heavens themselves.

And like the heavens the ceiling was decorated, studded with gemstones set in the shape of the stars, from the ice dragon to the north to the galley to the south, from the stallion to the west to the sword of the morning to the east, each constellation of the heavens was accounted for and masterfully replicated.

The beauty of the sept had made the wait more than tolerable. Even the children, preemptively bribed to ensure they did not cause a scene, sat slack-jawed in awe at what they saw. The other guests were only slightly more reserved in their admiration. The only one who could not enjoy the wonders of the sept was poor Corlys Velaryon, standing before the septon with a bride cloak in his hands, trying and very nearly succeeding in hiding his nerves.

It was the deafening roar of a dragon that caused the hushed murmurs of the impressed crowd of guests to die down. Immediately, doors large enough to allow a pair of knights to ride through side by side were thrown open.

And Father brought in Daella.

He did not walk in, as a sane man would have. No, that would have been too simple, not sufficiently symbolic. No, my father rode in.

On Dragonback.

Vermithor the Bronze Fury slowly, carefully, stretched his neck into the sept. His head towered over the seated guests as it crept through the aisle, only coming to a stop before the altar. It was rather impressive that the dragon had been able to move so delicately.

Father slid off his mount, clad in his black and red royal finery, and paused to look at the man who would become his good-son. To his credit, Corlys met the king's gaze without flinching or hesitation. Pure grandstanding it was, a bit of theater for the audience, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. After a moment, Father inclined his head and turned to the second person who sat upon the dragon's neck.

Daella Targaryen looked small compared to the veritable giants around her. Well, she had always been small. But surrounded by a massive dragon, our towering father, and the nearly-as-tall Corlys, she looked doubly the child.

Not wanting to dwell on any of those implications, I turned my attention as Father gave his daughter his full attention, whispering some words into her ear as I beheld Corlys' reaction. Clad in the silver and sea-green of his house, he cut a handsome figure, but his usually guarded face was easy to read.

He looked as I had felt five years ago.

To him, the bride clad in a combination of Targaryen and Velaryon iconography was the most beautiful thing in the world.

The memory of my own wedding brought a smile to my face. My hand found Maegelle's as Father withdrew, taking a strategically left-empty seat as his dragon carefully extricated himself from the sept. My hand received a squeeze in return as the lucky couple took up position before the septon.

He began his speech of how the pair before him was to become one soul in two bodies, a reflection of the Seven-Who-Are-One, and I heard the words of the rote speech in my mind before the septon spoke them. I knew them well, having attended my fair share of weddings. First Aemon's, then Baelon's and Alyssa's, Mine and Maegelle's, Martyn's, Damon's… truth be told, I rather liked my chances of being able to perform the ceremony myself.

Silently replaying the speeches from past weddings in my mind, the ceremony passed quickly.

As the sept was filled with the cheers of the guests as Corlys and Daella sealed their marriage with a kiss, I began to brace myself for the greatest challenge of my day: the feast.

"You're nervous," Maegelle said, reading my mind as we filed out of the sept. As among the most senior nobles in attendance, we were only a few paces behind the happy couple- our sister and our newest brother.

"Of course I am," I answered softly. "The feast approaches."

"The man who would sneak off to tame a dragon at four and ten is afraid of a simple feast," she said teasingly as we entered the central courtyard.

"The man is about to eat a meal with his eldest brother for the first time in five years," I reminded her, taking care not to let my apprehension show.

"You made peace with him, did you not?" she asked as if she had not been there to ensure I did not foul it up a second time.

"So we did," I said evenly. While I would not go so far as to say that Aemon and I had fully abandoned all of our differences, an exchange of apologies and telling him everything I knew about the Dorne situation had done wonders to reduce tensions. Even so, the first meal I would share with Aemon in half a decade being a very public feast…

I was nervous. I felt no shame in admitting it.

Especially since the one topic which we both no doubt wanted to discuss was not for the ears of the public.

Best not to talk to him. There were plenty of other guests.

"Then stop worrying," she said, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze as we made our way into the main hall of the manor. Trestle tables had been laid out, covered in fine dishes making up the first of many courses. Nothing too large, some small delicacies more designed to whet the appetite than fill the stomach.

Fine tapestries lined the walls of the manor's main hall, and I was able to appreciate each scene of Velaryon glory as we were guided to our seats on the far side of the hall. A dais had been constructed, large enough to seat the immediate families of both the bride and the groom.

Meaning mostly House Targaryen. Oh, Corlys had brothers, brothers with children of their own, but they were outnumbered by the veritable brood of my parents. At the foot of the table, occupied by the youngest of both houses, the Velaryons were outnumbered near two-to-one. Among the adults? It was closer, but we still had half again as many as they did.

Which meant that conversation quickly became lopsided.

The first course went well enough. Introductions were made where necessary, with polite inquiries into everyone's endeavors. Unsurprisingly, the younger brothers Velaryon were captains on some of Corlys' ships. Rather successful captains, too.

The second went even better, granting me the opportunity to extract some details from the Velaryon beside me about some of Corlys' more recent trading ventures in the Shivering Sea.

By the third course, however, things got a bit more fun. Under ordinary circumstances, Braxton was excellent company. Quick of wit, sharp of tongue, and reasonably capable of discussing the Seven with most lords, he was the kind of man I could proudly call a friend.

Unfortunately, he had been given a seat close to Mother.

Who was far more curious about him than I would have ever expected. Mayhaps I should have prepared him better for this meeting.

Then again, where was the fun in that?

...

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