From These Beginnings

116 AC

AS LASWELL HAD WARNED, THE TOPIC OF MARRIAGE DID COME UP. Except it was not how Gael had expected. Their father had somehow been convinced to allow them to choose their own betrothed. Apparently it had Alicent's words, though Gael had no clue what she could have possibly said. The two would travel the realm. They would visit the great houses of each region, with their vassals coming to present any man they saw as a good match.

The concept thrilled Gael. The furthest she had ever gone outside of King's Landing was Dragonstone and High Tide. To see the rest of the realm was a gift, even if it was just to find a husband.

Their most recent stop was Storm's End, the seat of House Baratheon. Lord Boremund Baratheon had been quick to show them around the castle, along with sharing its history. Legends claimed it had been built by Durran Godsgrieft to spite the sea god and goddess of the wind, after they slaughtered his family during his unapproved wedding to their daughter, Elenei. He made House Durrandon, from which House Baratheon had taken their seat, sigil, and words from when their own founder — Orys Baratheon, rumored bastard half-brother of Aegon the Conqueror and the first Hand of the King — destroyed them in battle.

Gael, of course, was fascinated.

Hundreds of men had arrived. Some were not even from the Stormlands, but had traveled long distances just to meet the princesses sooner. After all, what good would waiting do if they chose someone before they even met?

Gael listened to each with a great curiosity. Most of them were mindless blustering, but often they held descriptions of what their home was like, or other interesting stories.

Rhaenyra was...less enthusiastic. She had made it clear she wished to be anywhere else. More often than not she missed half of what their suitors were saying, instead staring into space as she played with the necklace around the throat. It was made of Valyrian steel, Gael noted. She had asked where Rhaenyra got it, but her sister had snapped at her to mind her business.

Currently, Beric Dondarrion was telling them about his castle, Blackhaven. The man was older than even their father, and seemed quite fond of the build of Blackhaven. It was, in fact, all he had spoken about after he had given his name and title. He had to take a drink of wine halfway through his description.

"The view across the Marches is inspiring, so said Queen Alysanne herself, when she honored my father and I —" Lord Beric continued, clearly not even close to finished.

"And tell me, Lord Dondarrion, did you think our great-grandmother as beautiful as they say?" Rhaenyra asked.

"This...was half a century ago, Princess," Lord Beric admitted.

"Yes, it was."

Gael covered a snicker by coughing into her fist. The rest of the court was much less kind, laughing openly at Rhaenyra's jab.

"That was unseemly, Princess," Lord Boremund said as Lord Beric retreated.

"That man is older than our father," Rhaenyra retorted. "It's unseemly for him to put himself forward as a contender for my hand, let alone my sister's."

Gael kicked her legs as the next suitor approached. It was a skinny boy, perhaps a year or so younger than she was. He trembled as he bowed to them. Gael gave him a slight wave, which she hoped would comfort him some. He didn't look bad, certainly no worse than Lord Beric did attempting to woo ladies young enough to be his grandchildren.

Rhaenyra did not think so.

"And now a child," Rhaenyra blurted out.

The boy looked away.

"The Blackwoods are an ancient house with a formidable army. In the Riverlands, they once ruled as kings. The blood of the First Men still flows in their veins," Boremund said. "And I believe he is here for your sister. They are closer in age."

"House Blackwood of Raventree Hall," Gael said. She leaned forward in her seat to talk to the boy. "You're the ones with the weirwood tree and the ravens."

"Yes, that is our sigil, princess," the boy said.

Gael nodded. It was one of the few sigils she ever remembered with ease. The white weirwood tree and black ravens stood out of their blood red field. It looked far more intimidating than the scrap of a boy in front of her.

There was a weirwood tree in the garden at the Red Keep, but outside of that they were rare, having been cut down centuries ago. There were many rumors of how they had grown. Each was more gruesome than the next.

"And what is your name?" Gael asked.

"Willem," the boy answered. 

Lord Boremund motioned for him to begin his speech.

"My Princesses..." Willem started nervously. Gael's comment seemed to have given him some confidence, but not much. "Ours is a bond that has long endured, since Lucas Blackwood, the grandsire of my grandsire, aided the Dragon in his war of conquest —"

"Aye," a voice droned from the crowd. "The Blackwoods truly turned the tide on that one."

The rest of the crowd chuckled at the comment. Gael squinted at the boy who had spoken. He looked around the same age as Rhaenyra. She didn't recognize the sigil well, but she could only assume from context that he was a Bracken. The Brackens and the Blackwoods had a notorious rivalry, which went back so far it was hard to tell how it began.

In Willem's defense, he did make a valiant effort to ignore the heckling.

"Coursed with the blood of the First Men, our history is deeply rooted in this land, which your house has made its home," Willem said. "If chosen as your match, your days shall be easy and nights safe under my protection."

"'Protection?'" the Bracken boy interrupted again. "The princesses have dragons, you dumb cunt."

Once again the crowd laughed. Gael shot to her feet.

"And you will silence yourself unless you wish to see that dragon up close," Gael snapped. The Bracken seemed stunned by the sudden admonishment, especially as Rhaenyra had seemed amused by his quips. "No, we do not need protection, but might I remind you we need disrespectful swine even less."

"Relax, Gael," Rhaenya scolded. She chuckled as she added, "I could learn to like that one."

Gael sat back in her seat, but seethed nonetheless. It was true Willem's offer of protection was a tad pathetic — Gael was certain even she could beat him in a fight — but she was put off by the Bracken boy's taunting. Too many times had boys like him thought themselves clever for mocking her friends, especially Rosey, the same way.

"Ugh, let us have the next. So we may go to supper," Rhaenyra said. 

Shamed, Willem hurried to leave.

"Craven," the Bracken boy called after him.

To Gael's surprise, Willem turned back to him, pulling the blade sheathed at his side. The Bracken boy responded with only a dagger. Perhaps he assumed his larger stature would have made up for his disadvantage in reach.

Rhaenyra stood, leaving Lord Boremund and Gael behind. Despite Lord Boremund's attempt to stop the two, it soon exploded into a fight. One which ended when the Bracken boy took a sword to the gut. A man Gael assumed was his father ran to his side, cradling him as he died. Willem stumbled backwards. Stunned, he could only stand there and gag.

"You should go, Princess," Lord Boremund instructed.

Instead Gael hurried to Willem's side. While everyone was distracted, she led him out of the room.

˱ 𓈒 𓈊 ┈ 𓈒 ˲

THE STORM OUTSIDE HAD BEGUN TO DIE DOWN. When Willem finally managed to calm his nerves, the two sat in silence and watched the rain. Gael swung her legs absentmindedly. In the distance, she could still hear the chaos that came from the Bracken boy's death. His name was Jerrel. Had been Jerrel, as he died soon after they left.

Lord Boremund tried to smooth everything over, but it seemed that would not happen. The Brackens and the Blackwoods were Riverland houses. So, despite being in Lord Boremund's castle and on his lands, they seemed to believe that excluded them from following his orders. Moreover, the houses' conflicts ran deep. Anything could explode into a war. This death certainly would.

"I am sorry," Gael said.

"Sorry?" Willem's low lip trembled miserably. "I was the one who ruined everything."

"It was our fault he felt free to mock you," Gael pointed out.

That seemed obvious now, despite Gael not realizing it at the time. The two had joked about Lord Beric and various other ridiculous suitors. More likely than not, Jarrel believed that would be the trick to their affection.

It had failed. Gael had scolded him. Rhaenyra had found him humorous, but had been happy to abandon him to his death.

It would not be fair for Gael to judge the boy for lashing out to protect his honor. Not when the smile she gave him was still crooked from the scar she had earned in her own fight. How often had her father scolded her for her temper? It was different, of course, as Gael was a maiden and Willem nearly a man grown, but the consequences held just as strong.

"Gael!"

The two raised their heads to see Rhaenyra approach. Willem hurried to his feet so he could bow. Gael stood as well.

"May I speak with my sister alone?" Rhaenyra asked.

Willem nodded and hurried to leave. Gael suspected he was scared to be around her sister, lest he be insulted again.

"We are leaving for King's Landing in an hour," Rheanyra said, once the boy was gone.

"An hour?" Gael frowned. "I thought there were two months left."

Rhaenyra sighed. She turned to look around the passage way. No one was around. Either they were focused on the events in the hall or had fled to avoid being dragged into them.

"You know as well as I do that this is a farce, and I tire of it," Rheanyra said.

"I have enjoyed it," Gael insisted. Rhaenyra started walking as she spoke, and so Gael had to hurry to keep up. "We have yet to see the Vale, and I wish to meet Lady Arryn."

Lady Jeyne Arryn was the current lady of the Eyrie. Despite the attempts of her cousin to steal her inheritance, she had ruled in her own name for years. She was also their mother's cousin. If one asked Gael for one house she wished to visit, it would have always been House Arryn, at least to meet her mother's family.

"Father didn't send us to visit," Rhaenyra said. "He sent us to find some lord to be married off to."

"I suppose we could find that as well."

Rhaenyra gave her a sharp look. Gael only shrugged. She despised the prospect of forced marriage as much as her sister, but struggled to see why Rhaenyra refused to even consider a marriage of choice. In truth Gael had met plenty of suitors she wouldn't mind marrying. Willem had not been too bad, for example. Perhaps not as a  love, but at least a friend.

And what was their other option?

"You know if we return without a suitor, Father will find one for us," Gael pointed out. Rhaenyra did not answer. "Perhaps we could stop at Runestone on the way, and finally meet our aunt and cousin. I hear Lady Rhea is good with horses and a talented hunter."

Rhaenyra only shook her head.

"You may continue if you wish. I will leave Ser Criston with you," Rhaenyra said. "But I refuse to entertain this any longer."

"Father will not be pleased," Gael warned.

"Since when do you care what pleases him?"

Gael had no argument to that. Ultimately, Rhaenyra did return to King's Landing, leaving Gael to continue on her own. A guard was left with her as Ser Criston returned with her sister. Part of Gael was disappointed by that. Rhaenyra may have disagreed, but spending time together had been part of the reason Gael had come in the first place. The two had rarely seen each other, what with Rhaenyra hiding away every chance she had gotten.

Still, Rhaenyra could not be stopped, and Gael would not allow that to weigh on her.

˱ 𓈒 𓈊 ┈ 𓈒 ˲

GAEL MOVED ON FROM STORM'S END QUICKLY. Lord Baratheon had raged throughout the night and, while he never said it to their faces, Gael suspected their welcome had come to an end. The next stop was Riverrun, the seat of House Tully.

The entourage was accepted tentatively. A letter had arrived ahead of them. It was mainly to inform the Tullys that Rhaenyra would not be joining them, but happened to include what had happened to Jerrel Bracken. Gael suspected the rivermen were afraid of another fight starting among their suitors.

It was not Lord Grover Tully that welcomed them, but his son, Elmo. Lord Tully sent his regards, but he was bedridden and doubted Gael wished to see him in such a manner. At least it wasn't because he was offended by only receiving one princess instead of two. Gael didn't think she had the energy for another lord angry with her. It was surprisingly obnoxious.

Riverrun was settled at the intersection of the Tumblestone and Red Fork rivers. This meant that the castle was guarded on two of its three sides. It was curiously built. On the smaller side, the castle was made of red sandstone, and its doors were heavy redwood.

The first few days were just for settling in. Their maester, who was lord in all but name, needed to contact their vassals to let them know Rhaenyra was no longer appearing.

Gael spent most of the time with Elmo and his brothers, ranging from her age to a few years younger. They were considered possible suitors, and at the beginning they took that role very seriously. But quickly it became clear she was not interested, and instead they amused themselves playing monsters–and–maidens.

Elmo had insisted that Gael was to be the maiden, on account of being the only girl. That lasted until she shoved him into the Red Fork in the name of "defending herself from the beast." Thankfully he knew how to swim, as all Tully children did, and it turned into giving Gael lessons.

On the third day there, the morning the suitors were meant to arrive, Gael received a letter from Rhaenyra. It was an update from King's Landing. Daemon had returned from the Stepstones. Having been named the King of the Narrow Sea while there, he surrendered his crown to the king.

Gael scoffed when she read that. He wanted something, she was certain of that.

The suitors were presented in the Great Hall. Lord Grover was well enough to oversee the event, the first time Gael had met him.

They started with Myles Frey, the son of Lord Forrest Frey of the Twins. He had to promptly leave as he had, apparently, not been made aware Rhaenyra had left. Gael figured it was for the best. He seemed like the sort they would end up whispering about, which she had sworn to no longer do.

After that they went through houses Butterwall, Paege, and Vypren. Gael knew because they announced themselves – and also because House Vypren's sigil was a frog on a lillypad. Quite easy to remember. There was House Shawney, which had been Septa Marlow's former family. It wasn't too bad. Gael even found herself listening to the lords with genuine interests. Apparently it helps when you listen to what they are saying instead of making comments about them.

Gael had been wondering if Valethar could land on top of a castle or if he was finally too large when the next person stepped forward. He was her age, perhaps a little older, but surrounded by lords twice his age made him look practically childish. He was short, and his clothes didn't seem to quite fit him.

"Are those acorns?" Gael asked.

The boy tugged at the front of his surcoat. It was a bright yellow, indeed dotted with acorns.

"House Smallwood," he said. Gael snorted despite herself and his face reddened. "My name is Merlon, your grace. My father is lord of Acorn Hall."

"Hence the acorns."

"Correct."

Merlon folded his hands behind his back and scuffed the toe of his boot against the floor. For a moment it looked like he planned to flee back into the crowd.

Then he took a deep breath and raised his head to meet her gaze. "Perhaps we are a small house, but we are a loyal one. Smallwoods helped King Aenys Targaryen fight Harren the Red and put down the Faith Militant uprising. We supported Aegon the Uncrowned against his usurper uncle, and Lord Myles Smallwood served as your great grandsire's hand."

"Wasn't he also removed as hand?" Gael asked. Yet, she had to admit, he had gotten her attention. "You're fond of histories, my lord?"

"I suppose," Merlon said, sheepish. "My mother, she is of the North, the First Men. She would tell my brother and me their histories, when I was a child, so I would not only know half of my lineage. I...simply continued to study after."

Gael studied him for a moment. Yes, she could see northern blood in him. He was long–faced, with dark eyes and hair. She had not guessed it at first, because riverlanders could be a mixed lot, but he must have taken more after his mother.

"You have a brother?" Gael prompted.

"One younger, Joseth," he confirmed.

So he was the heir. That would explain why he was sent.

"Are you close?"

"It would be hard not to be, princess. We're only a year apart."

There was something off about his voice. He was being snide, she realized, a contrast to his anxious demeanor. Gael laughed.

"I like him," she announced. To Merlon, she added, "I'm afraid there are others who need to speak, my lord, but I do hope to speak with you again. Truly."

Merlon looked like he was going to faint, and Gael realized he likely hadn't expected a positive response. Still, he nodded and returned to the crowd.

Author's note: A big part of this chapter has been about showing some of Gael's growth. It's been a bit hard, because the show rushes so quickly, but I tried to show it in both large (Gael at the Tourney not understanding why Barra was upset about Daemon's cheating vs Gael during the hunt realizing the unfairness of kill the stag when it had no chance of escape) and small (her realizing the consequences of her words over the course of this chapter) ways.

Also, Muppet Tullys my beloved!! Those are their actual names, by the way.