The Maiden and the Drowning Boy

Chapter 12 - Bastard On the Burning Sea

High Valyrian Translations (the longer sentences are within the text)
Mittys - Fool
laodijes peldios - Thieving Snake
Sparos bonus issa - Who is she?
Kepus issa - My Uncle
hāedus - niece
Trēsys - nephew
Muñus - aunt

-

Viserys looked small sitting next to the stone miniature of the Valyrian Freehold. Even when it had only taken up the center of the solar, it had still dwarfed him. In the nearly two decades of their marriage, Alicent had watched it grow, encroaching upon the free space bit by bit, like the empire itself had centuries ago. He kept to his alcove with his books and research piled around him and Eddard, the stone mason, loyally by his side with carved pieces placed precisely where they needed to go.

It was Alicent who sat at her husband's long abandoned desk, fingers trailing over the delicate, rosewood knotwork along the top edge where the inkwell securely sat and dipped her pen, fingers smoothing over the parchment before her.

"Have the plans for the dais been completed?" she asked the young scribe who had come bearing updates on the wedding preparations.

"Yes, my queen." He unfurled the parchment to show the diagram of the dragon pit, and the structure that was being commissioned where it would go in the center, the seating for the nobility of the realm ringed around it so all could view her son's nuptials unimpeded. None could claim insult if all had a relatively equal view around the ritual, and the small folk could fill the risers that lined the pit, spectators to see the king's first born son make his marriage vows. While rumors had ripped through the city and the realm in regards to Rhaenyra's first marriage - brutally cut short in the wake of the riot in the throne room, the murder of Ser Joffrey at Ser Criston's hands - and then her secretive, second marriage to The Rogue Prince, there would be no hiding, no rumor mongering when it came to Aegon's marriage. There would be no doubt to his bride, no implied underhandedness and scheming behind closed doors.

Her son would be given his due, the honor he was entitled to as the long prayed for son of their blessed King Viserys. Her son was a Targaryen, named for the Conqueror himself. The River Lords could see it, and Alicent would ensure the small folk saw it, that the realm saw it.

Her son was the prince Viserys had longed for. Her son that she had nearly died for, frightened and alone in the childbed. Her son was who she had been sacrificed for, and she would not let him be denied, to be cast aside so cruelly, so publicly, as Aemond had been. None of her children deserved this disdain, this neglect. Not when they rode dragons and bore the coloring of their father's house. When they were so Targaryen she could not recognize them half the time.

Then, perhaps, her father would be satisfied. Then, perhaps, Otto Hightower might be content.

Alicent absently rubbed her wrist, the pain a phantom twinge now.

Her eyes scanned the sketch before her, nodding in approval. "Good. Keeping the small folk contained to the risers will be critical."

"The guild master has expressed concern in regards to so many in proximity of the dragon pit, your grace." Alicent pursed her lips in thought, a slight nod.

"Plenty of people live and work in proximity of the pit-"

"Are you looking to set a feast for the dragons, Alicent?" Viserys' rasping voice interrupted and she looked over to her husband who was focused upon the statue in his hand.

"I'm looking at seating arrangements for our son's wedding, husband." A tight smile crossed her face and normally, that would be enough to send him back along to caring about anything else but their children.

'My children', she thought possessively, protectively. Viserys had forfeited the right to call them his in private when he had done nothing, made no overture, symbolic or otherwise, for Aemond's maiming.