79 AD
Sunfire Valley, Castle Osgiliath
Time always flies. It doesn't matter if it's years, months, days, or minutes. Before you know it, events follow one another, lingering in our memories like a kaleidoscope of images. Therefore, the most important thing in life is to learn to get the most out of these events. To squeeze every ounce of simple human happiness and warmth out of the moments that make up our lives.
So it happened to me. Two weeks before one of the most important events for me as a lord, a knight, and a man flew by in the blink of an eye. I spent the entire time in my office, overseeing all the processes taking place within my domain—the nearly completed construction of aqueducts, the development of mines, the selection of sites for future villages, orchards, and fields, the construction of the remaining castle buildings, Osgiliath, and a small island fortress I had already decided to name Minas Ithil. Moonrise Fortress was to serve as the main line of defense from the sea, greatly securing Sunfire Valley, accessible only from the bay or a narrow, winding mountain road.
Of course, I wasn't stuck in one place. I had to visit my family for lunches, breakfasts, and dinners, I had to help Eilis, with the support of my mother, who had taken on the role of wedding planner, and sometimes I had to travel into the city itself or beyond to supervise the sometimes incredibly dim-witted workers on the spot.
But I spent most of my time with my own son. Lyon, like any child, turned out to be a small, hyperactive bundle of joy, who in just a few days managed to endear himself to most of the serving girls, who began to smile and look at him with undisguised tenderness in his presence. Our short walks, where I held him in my arms and showed him the Red Mountains and the views of the Sea of Dorne that opened up from them, became one of my outlets, allowing me to rest not only my body but also my soul.
Additional reasons for leaving the solarium arose at the beginning of the second week—the first guests arrived. The Martells, consisting of Prince Doran, Princesses Elia and Arianne, Lady Mellario, and, naturally, Oberyn, with their daughters, were housed in one of the finest guest quarters. While Obara, Nymeria, Tyene, and Arianne, along with Lyon, fell into the grasping hands of my mother, who was doting on small children, Oberyn found a kindred spirit in Aerys (though he initially scoffed at his name, later receiving a sword blow from him during a practice sparring match). It was I who had to entertain Elia, Doran, and Mellario. Thank the gods, the sisters were very helpful with the princess, often engaging her with questions about the lives and customs of the lords of Westeros.
And the guests kept arriving. The Ironwoods' ships, bearing the current head of their house, Ormund Ironwood, with his wife Milena and son Anders, arrived the next day, after the Martells. Almost simultaneously, the Fowlers arrived via the mountain road. Franklin Fowler, with his wife Anara and twins, Jane and Jennelyn, decided to honor my wedding with their presence.
When three of Dorne's most powerful houses arrived for the wedding of a former merchant, it was a signal to many lords that they had better hurry.
The stream of guests never dwindled—the Vilies, the Manwoods, the Blackmonts, the Jordains, the Veits, the Ullers, the Quorgils, and even the Daynes… A steady stream of noble and lesser guests flowed. The ritual of Ailis and I going out together to greet the guests became something familiar and even tiresome. Particularly irritating were the lustful and undisguised glances cast by many of the lords. I even had to break the jaws and expel a few dim-witted knights who had crossed the line.
At that moment, I was incredibly happy that my future wife had received an excellent home education and was a master of good form. After all, it was she who had taken on most of the responsibilities of the ceremony and the guests' accommodations. A bored and disgruntled Dornish lord is a dangerous lord, after all. Only thanks to her, and a little help from my father and Aerys, did a fight between Anders and Oberyn, Lords Franklin and Ormund, and the Blackmonts, Waiths, and Daynes avert. These Dornishmen had hot blood, and they needed constant cooling.
But we were prepared for this, so there were no particular problems.
The only surprise came on the last day, when at sunset a small, fast ship, bearing the Targaryen symbol, entered the harbor. It wasn't as if the arrival of a member of the royal family caused a stir, but the castle immediately came alive, turning into a stirred-up hornet's nest. Within half an hour, a small delegation had assembled at one of the piers where the royal galley was moored, half composed of Dornish lords, eager for the arrival, and guards present in case of a knife fight that could break out at any moment (we've been there, we know).
Everyone guessed who had visited my valley, well aware of the king's quirks regarding his own safety, and the status of the queen and Prince Viserys. But even so, when the Silver Prince descended the gangplank onto the concrete docks, most of those present forgot how to breathe. While my bride aroused feelings of desire in all the males, sometimes even touching the females, Prince Rhaegar had the exact opposite effect.
Having accepted my bow and gallantly kissed Eilis's outstretched palm, he, under the admiring glances of the ladies and the envious glances of the lords, said:
— Greetings, Lord Temper. Will you allow me to be a guest at your wedding?
"Of course, Your Highness," I replied, fully aware that there was no room for a negative answer. It was already a great honor to be invited to the royal family. So at that moment, one thought was running through my head:
"Where to place them?"
Especially when I saw Ser Barristan Selmy, Ser Arthur Dayne, and Prince Leven Martell disembarking from the ship after the prince. The number of high-noble guests at my wedding increased dramatically.
*
PO V Eilis
2nd day of the 5th month of the year 279 from the Conquest of Aegon
I faced the morning of the most important event in any woman's life alone. No matter how much Felix insisted on the help of the handmaidens, on a wedding day a woman is obliged to do everything herself. Such are the Volantine, and therefore Valyrian, traditions.
Throwing off my light nightgown and walking up to the human-height I-tian wall mirror, I involuntarily looked at my naked body.
"How wrong they were to think that I would live my whole life under another fat old merchant," I thought, involuntarily touching a few small stretch marks left over from Lyon's birth.
Life has never been kind to me.
Born into the Belroi clan, the main vassals of the powerful Levak clan, I was an outcast from birth. The daughter of a concubine who died after childbirth... The murderer of my mother... Human merchandise... From childhood, I was not perceived as a human being—even children like me, born to my father's other mistresses, wanted no contact with me. Too cold and distant in appearance.
My only solace was the library—a room filled with all sorts of books, a necessity for most aristocrats merely as a matter of status, not enlightenment. It was there that I met my first friend and teacher.
Listo was a middle-aged slave, enslaved by the Belroi clan two years before I was born and made the library's keeper for his vast knowledge and keen intellect. As I later learned, he had once been a student at the Citadel who had decided to visit the Free Cities to further his knowledge. But there, in Volantis, framed by the guards and unjustly accused, he was enslaved and became a servant of the Belroi clan.
It was he who taught me to read and write. It was he who first told me about the world around me and the wonders that take place in it. It was he who showed how, through books, a person can go wherever he wants without leaving his four walls.
The years passed. I grew and became more beautiful. Only my two "sisters," five years my senior, could match my beauty when they blossomed, while I was still just an awkward teenager. But the looks on those around me never changed—everyone in my family still viewed me as a valuable commodity, destined for great profit in the future. There was even a time when my two older brothers, defying my father's orders, decided to rape me. It didn't work out—the Blackguard had its day.
And so, when I turned fifteen, the clan leader called me and said it was time for me to fulfill my duty. The next day, I shared a bed with a then-promising and wealthy merchant from the Sunset Kingdoms named Felix.
I wouldn't say my life changed dramatically, but I did feel a sudden sense of… relief? Having spent my whole life expecting to be set up with an unknown aristocrat three times my age, and then ending up sharing a bed with a rather attractive peer… I was actually happy about it.
And when I found out I was pregnant, that feeling increased exponentially. Listo was right when he told me, "The feeling of being part of the creation of a new life is one of the most wonderful things in a woman's life." And when I saw that tiny pink bundle, with its fluff of yellow hair and red eyes veiled in a light haze, it became clear that those nine months had been worth it.
Events then raced forward—an introduction to Felix, who responded quite adequately and even fulfilled several of my requests, including creating a small castle library and buying the elderly Listo to act as its custodian. The engagement. Recognition as the family's third daughter. Daily instructions on how to behave with a husband and what benefits the clan should receive from him. And finally, arrival in Felix's lands, where I met his family, who turned out to be very pleasant people, and preparations for today's wedding.
Lost in such thoughts, I didn't even notice how I managed to take a bath with incense, put on a wedding dress, and even put on light makeup.
Knock-knock…
"Come in," I shouted, adjusting a small earring made in the shape of crystal demon violets—a rare plant that grows only in the Motley Mountains and is the symbol of our clan.
"Sorry for the intrusion, sister, but it's time for us to go." Aquinos, entering through the door, looked as impeccable as ever—his Valyrian features, long, salt-colored hair, and robust build had always attracted many female glances to the fifth-eldest son of the Belroy family. But his brown eyes were always a source of ridicule for his other brothers and the reason he could never become the heir.
Valyrian traits were valued too highly in Volantis.
"Of course," I said, putting on light sandals and taking my half-brother's arm, heading for the castle's main "garden," where the altar was set up. It was Aquinos who had the honor of giving me in marriage, as my father couldn't leave Volantis for long due to his position as triarch, and I could no longer tolerate the rest of my male relatives.
Walking slowly through the still empty corridors of my new home, I become more and more immersed in myself.
This wedding was special. After all, my groom and I were of different faiths, and most of the guests believed in completely different gods. So we chose a so-called "Silent Wedding," where no priests of the deities were called as witnesses, but ordinary people were instead. Such a wedding was not particularly popular among followers of any religion, but there was simply no choice. According to Felix, we were lucky that Dorne has such strong ties to Essos, and everyone here understands our circumstances. As he said, in other kingdoms, we would have been put on pitchforks for such disrespect for the Seven or the Old Gods.
However, later, when the guests have left, we will have to hold a traditional wedding according to the traditions of the North, otherwise the gods will not bless our marriage.
"Strange people," I thought, when suddenly my hand was sharply squeezed, forcing me to emerge from my thoughts.
"Sister, we've arrived," the brother said quietly, pointing to the red-carpeted path leading to the altar.
All the arriving nobles of Dorne lined up in two lines, starting from the lowest-born knights and ending with the Martell couple, the Fowlers, the Yronwoods, and Prince Rhaegar, who stood almost at the very edge of the platform.
And there he stood. Dressed in a snow-white silk cloak, a linen shirt, and a yellow doublet with purple markings on the sleeves, he was the only one who looked at me in a special way.
If in the eyes of the local lords I saw the usual lust, desire, admiration, and mild adoration, and in those of their wives a blaze of unadulterated envy, then Felix was something else entirely. One could drown in his green eyes, like the endless Summer Sea. They looked at me with only warm, unadulterated happiness, joy, and... love? Yes, perhaps that was it. Judging by Aquinos's slightly mocking chuckle, I wasn't much different from my fiancé.
I almost missed the moment when we stepped onto the platform and a familiar, large hand took mine. Too many emotions were swirling around in my head, and my heart was pounding too hard, trying to escape my chest.
The ceremony itself was hosted by Alexander, Felix's father, a very pleasant-looking man of a certain age, with long gray hair and pleasant features. It was immediately clear who my groom took after.
First came a lengthy invocation to all the known gods, asking them to bless our marriage or punish anyone who would break it in the future. After that came the traditional wedding hymn, sung even by the Valyrians since the time of Andalos.
Next came a simple question: "Are there any reasons why this marriage cannot take place?" At that moment, Felix glanced pointedly over his shoulder at everyone present, and the large warriors from the far north, acting as guards, immediately checked their swords to make sure they were in good order. Naturally, no one found any reasons.
At that moment, a light weight fell on my shoulders, which turned out to be a light cloak with violets embroidered on it.
"Congratulations, little sister," Aquinos said, hugging me by the shoulders. If I hadn't known the nature of this beautiful snake, I might have believed he was genuinely happy for my happiness. But, unfortunately, there's no room for brotherly or sisterly love in the Belroi clan. Only profit.
The ceremony continued. Soon, a red cloak with a yellow sun and purple flames burning within it draped over my shoulders. It was so enormous and heavy that it was immediately clear it had been tailored for Felix, a giant who towered over many of the guests. My cloak, however, looked downright short on him, downright ridiculous. Thank the gods of Valyria, we removed it quickly, otherwise I would have collapsed under the weight of this woolen giant, and some of the guests would have died laughing.
"With this kiss, I swear my love to you and declare you my lady and wife," Felix said softly, and began to lean in to kiss me.
"With this kiss, I swear my love to you and acknowledge you as my lord and husband," I replied just as softly, lifting my chin to help him reach my lips.
"Before all gods and men, I solemnly pronounce Felix of House Temper and Eilis of House Belroy husband and wife. One destiny, one life, one faith. From now until the end of time, you are bound by unbreakable bonds, and cursed be all who dare stand in your way!" my now husband's father boomed loudly, drowning out all the sounds around us.
The applause and congratulations that followed didn't reach me. I was drowning in those beautiful green eyes, and I was happy. From now on, I'm not part of the Belroy clan, where everyone considered me practically a thing. I'm the first lady of the Temper clan. And from now on, this is my place.
*
P . O . V Felix Temper
The ceremony itself went off without a hitch. As soon as our kiss was over, loud applause followed, deafening for a moment. However, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed several lords and knights who didn't even raise their hands. They deserve to be remembered—it was in such small details that a person's true attitude was revealed.
After signing several papers that would be sent to the citadel and would serve as evidence of our marriage, all the guests were calmly escorted to the Great Hall, which, according to plans, could accommodate five hundred people. There, tables were already set, laden with delicacies.
Dorne was inherently very different from the other eight realms, and this greatly affected its cuisine. Most dishes were very spicy, more reminiscent of the earthly Middle East than medieval Europe. Vine leaves stuffed with lamb, duck in lemon sauce, tortelli with spiced pork, capon with walnuts, Dornish eel in mint sauce… All these dishes were unlikely to have been found in Europe in the 14th or 15th centuries. And let's not forget the wine—Arbor gold, local red, summer green, white from the Vale. I even managed to get hold of a rare pear brandy from Tyrosh, of which the local craftsmen only make a few dozen barrels a year.
Prepared to perfection.
Although I didn't much like that kind of food. The same capon that the Dornishmen had pounced on with such ferocity. Prepared in 23 stages, it's not only insanely expensive, but also tastes weak after 22 rounds of torture. But this is aristocracy—you have to be different from the commoners. If they'd served a simple kebab, so popular with the common folk of Dorne, I wouldn't have been understood.
For me, the wedding was also a lucky break—it was rare to see so many lords in one place. I needed to get to know each of them, talk to them, and make some agreements.
So, imperceptibly, for me the feast turned from a rest into one continuous running around, when it was necessary to go between the lords and try not only to leave a good opinion of myself, but also to conclude several agreements.
That same conversation with Lords Fowlers and Ironwoods drained all the juices out of me.
I needed fruit tree saplings from the Fowlers to establish my own orchards in the valley, supplying the population with food and some businesses with raw materials. We agreed to purchase them in several batches, with the first, smallest, being 200,000 saplings.
"But why me?" Lord Franklin asked toward the end of the conversation, taking another sip of green Letnian wine. Of medium height, with an aquiline nose and lightly grayed blond hair, he closely resembled the heraldic animal of his house, leading most lords to call him simply "Hawk." "Lord Temper, you are known for your business acumen and your ability to earn and spend money. I'm sure there's some catch to buying the seedlings that I'm unaware of. Care to share?"
"He's not here, Lord Fowler," I replied, and seeing his distrustful, sly look, I continued, "I could buy all this from the Merryweathers, the Carons, or the Tyrells, but it would be a waste of money."
In response to his interested look, I said only one word.
"The soil." Seeing the understanding in my companion's eyes, as well as the owner of some of the largest and most extensive orchards in all of Dorne (on par with the Daynes), I continued. "My lands are poor in water and very rocky. The delicate plants of the vast plains simply won't thrive here. So I had to turn to you, as the owner of the finest orchards in all of Westeros."
Leaving the hawk to enjoy such a small flattery, without mentioning that I had had a similar conversation with Altrim Dain and Wieland Vil, I headed to my next target.
Ironwoods.
They were both harder and easier to deal with. Ormund Ironwood was a real idiot, fixated on extracting vengeance from Oberyn for the murder of his father. And he didn't much like me, the man who had helped the Dornish prince escape to Essos five years ago. On the other hand, he was far more practical than the Lords Fowlers, Viles, Blackmonts, and the rest, immediately agreeing to my request. I needed escort ships from House Ironwood to protect my vessels. Perhaps thanks to the werewolves, the risk of encountering pirates was low, but the gods protect those who are careful. Considering that most of the goods I trade are very expensive, the loss of a single vessel could be a very unpleasant prick.
As a result, the entire Great Hall could watch for half an hour the scene of two stubborn rams haggling over every copper, unwilling to give up a single coin.
But there were also some pleasant moments.
Eilis, my treasure, gracefully circled the hall, her mere presence stopping fights and lifting the spirits of those around her. By the end of the evening, when I'd finished all my chores, she'd barely left my side. She'd top up my wine, give me the most delicious piece of pie, gently stroke my head… she'd do everything to ensure the evening ended on a pleasant note.
I had a very interesting conversation with Prince Rhaegar. The heir to the throne proved to be a very well-read and gentle man, trying to communicate with his interlocutor as an equal, rather than as a vassal overlord. The topic of our conversation was his great-grandfather, Aegon V the Incredible, and his life. The prince himself recounted how, as a child, he wanted to emulate his great-grandfather's feat and temporarily become "the second egg from which a dragon would hatch, but two old blockheads got in his way." At that moment, he looked so pointedly at Barristan, sitting in the next chair, that Barristan even looked a little embarrassed.
A unique custom among all worlds was also observed: a fight at a wedding. Aerys and Arthur Dayne, whom he had drawn into a wine-drinking contest, had a disagreement and began publicly punching each other. It ended up being up to me, the prince, Selmy, and my father to pull them apart. The cause of the fight was never discovered, and since only fists were used, the incident was quickly forgotten.
The wine flowed freely, the elegant and high-class fare served at the very beginning was replaced by simple dishes like pork chops or slices of fresh garlic bread. The lords and knights grew drunk, their ladies, keeping pace with their husbands, grew ever more flushed, the minstrels sang their finest songs, and the servants, mostly men, couldn't keep up with the fresh kegs of booze. The only place of peace was our dais, where the more sedate and less inclined to drink sat—me, my wife, Prince Doran and his wife, and my father and mother. Even Prince Rhaegar and Ser Barristan had already gotten drunk and were belting out a song in another corner of the hall, drawing a storm of applause.
"Prince Doran, have you brought what I asked for?" I asked, realizing the celebration would soon be over and I had one last task to complete.
"Ah, yes. Of course." Although he'd drunk the least, but still a little groggy, the Grandlord of Dorne pulled a small scroll of sealed paper from his bosom, sealed with a sun pierced by a spear. "As you requested."
"Thank you," I replied, placing the scroll in a small box brought by a helpful servant.
"What is it, dear?" Eilis asked, resting her head on my shoulder, her mere presence dispelling the smell of alcohol that hung in the chamber, despite the open windows. In its place came the faint scent of violets and hydrangeas, very calming and relaxing.
"This, my dear, is the document that legitimizes all our children, conceived and born before marriage." Her pupils dilated slightly at my words, indicating she was in mild shock.
- You mean?..
"Yes. Lyon is now officially Temper," I replied, before being buried in my wife's soft, joyful breast.
She was well versed in the laws and customs of the Seven Kingdoms thanks to her mentor, and she clearly understood what Lyon's life would have been like had he remained branded a bastard. The fact that he was her first child placed even more pressure on the loving mother, who wanted him to have a happy life.
Now all the work for today is done.
"Just look at all the passion!" a drunken and slurred voice suddenly rang out, apparently belonging to Lord Jordain. "Isn't it time to have a send-off?"
"Your mother!" I thought, quickly tearing my wife away from me and scanning the crowd for Aerys, Joen, Piper, Rick, Jack, and the rest of my men, who had been ordered not to get drunk and remain able to stand by the end of the party. Only three of them were still conscious and in the Great Hall. "I'll give them what for tomorrow!"
One of the minstrels began playing "The King Took Off His Crown, the Queen Her Slipper," which was joined by all the other bards. And the guests, obeying drunken reflexes, rushed toward us to perform the traditional farewell ceremony.
The ceremony itself consists of escorting the newlyweds to their bedchamber. It's an ancient and frivolous custom of this world—the female guests surround the groom, and the male guests the bride, carrying them in their arms, stripping them of their clothing, making crude jokes, and groping them. I didn't like this custom at all, so I prepared a support group for Ailis in advance, knowing that tipsy Dornishmen can get a bit carried away, and ending a wedding with a duel isn't a good idea.
But nothing happened. My "friends" were either making out with women elsewhere in the castle or lying slumped over in a drunken stupor among the other bodies. I was about to raise my fist to slam it on the table and declare that this ritual would not be performed, but my father stopped me. He said with a single glance that everything was fine and pointed to the cordon that had formed in front of the crowd.
Aerys, Oberyn, Doran, Prince Leven, Ser Barristan, Ser Arthur, Aquinos, my wife's brother, and Prince Rhaegar stood like a wall in the other lords' path, preventing them from laying a finger on Aelys. And soon, their father joined them.
So, in the bedroom, we found ourselves in very different positions—while they only managed to pull off Eilis's outer cloak during this journey, leaving her fully dressed, the ladies didn't spare me. I entered the room wearing only my pants.
"The Sunset Kingdoms have some interesting traditions," my wife said with a grin, sitting at a small vanity table and removing some small jewelry.
"Yes," I answered thoughtfully, lying down on the bed. "Only when you're not involved. I swear, if the same thing happens at my sisters' wedding, I'll break everyone's arms."
"You're so scary," Eilis cooed, laughing and standing up from the small ottoman, throwing her dress off her shoulders. For a moment, I stood frozen in shock.
In the moonlight streaming through the balcony arch, she was incredibly beautiful. Like a moon goddess, she was bathed in silver light, outlining every feature, every curve of her perfect, alluring body. I was so captivated by this picture that I didn't even notice how she had landed on the bed and was crawling toward me.
"What if they're daughters?" she asked slyly, kissing me lightly on the cheek, fueling my desire.
"I'll kill everyone there," I replied, pushing her onto her back and pinning her to the bed. "And now we'll make sure I have one daughter."
Even though Aelys and I consummated our marriage… prematurely, I remember the night after the wedding as the best. It seemed nothing could ruin my mood (not even the lewd jokes of a certain Dornishman at my door). Life seemed peaceful and carefree.
*
Alas, circumstances don't always agree with our plans. The next day, at breakfast, when most of the guests were recovering from their hangovers and preparing for their imminent departure home, Robin brought a letter sent from Storm's End.
Grandlord of the Stormlands, Steffon Baratheon, and his wife, Cassana, née Estermont, died drowning in Shipwreck Bay.
Their eldest son, Robert Baratheon, became the new Lord of Storm's End.