Chapter 48: Rhaegar's Gift
Under a sky of golden rain, Lord Tywin Lannister and his bride spoke their vows, received blessings, exchanged promises, while sacred songs soared.
Rhaegar noticed that inside the sept the crimson lion of House Lannister hung high—yet today the banners showed a pair of lions, a lion and lioness facing each other in tender regard.
To honor the king, Tywin had further paired the lions with many dragon banners, gold and crimson mirrored perfectly.
Dazzling scarlet answered the golden lion; Rhaegar saw young men and women, all fair-haired and blue-eyed, young and in their prime. The newlyweds were keen as razors yet bright as the new moon.
Every guest was arrayed in eye-catching finery, famed for splendor, intricacy, and excess.
More than that, Rhaegar spied guests from across the Narrow Sea—Braavosi, Tyroshi, Pentoshi, Lyseni; none wished to miss the chance to curry favor with the Iron Throne's golden lion and the Lord of Casterly Rock, and to gauge the throne's strength.
Today Rhaegar too was a courtly prince of King's Landing, arriving in brocade. He wore a doublet of black velvet dotted with rubies and diamonds that formed a three-headed dragon, blood and fire as one, gleaming.
Rhaegar had wanted no such grandeur, but the great lords reveled in rivalry; only magnificence could awe the realm, and folk nursed deep grievance over rank. Besides, the Old King had entrusted him with a special task.
Rhaegar sat in the front row, watching the Queen drape the bride's cloak upon Lady Joanna Lannister, while Lord Tywin received the groom's cloak from King Jaehaerys II Targaryen and fastened it about his bride.
Rhaegar saw Tywin kiss his bride with deep affection—the girl he had loved since his teens. One flesh, one heart, one soul.
Applause surged again and again like the tide.
Below the dais women began to weep; the couple were so happy it hurt to watch.
"Our brother shines today, yet Mother cannot see. Since she died Father barely troubles with us," young Tyggett Lannister murmured, downcast. Kevan Lannister quickly hushed him.
Rhaegar glanced at the golden-haired boys—the Laughing Lion had left Tywin brothers loyal and able, content to live in their great brother's shadow, faithful yet resigned.
Great houses never reckon kin too many: the eldest becomes lord, the younger brothers may serve as councillors or knightly captains, marry or be wed for alliances; there is always a place. The risk is quarrels and feuds, but that beats swift extinction.
Speaking of failing lines, Rhaegar saw Lady Rowena Arryn dab her eyes; if a high lady breeds few sons, whispers will fly. Lord Jon Arryn remained stern.
The dragons too were short of heirs; something would have to be done, Rhaegar mused. King Jaehaerys II seemed frail, unlikely to reign long.
Presently Grand Maester Pycelle slipped to Rhaegar's side and passed him a folded note.
The sparrow is caught.
Without a flicker, Rhaegar read the words and burned the paper.
Gold and night must wield violence to keep the peace.
Rhaegar saw the chatter boil like a pot; the rite was all but done.
The wedding ended; all now looked to the evening feast.
Tywin's brothers donned lion-helms and armor, red cloaks over white, and with the Kingsguard in white cloaks escorted the couple away.
King Jaehaerys II and Queen Shaera led, Rhaegar beside the Old King; next Lord and Lady Baratheon, Lord and Lady Arryn, Prince Aerys Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone, and Princess Rhaella Targaryen, then Princess Lorenza Nymeros Martell of Dorne, escorted by Ser Lewyn Martell of the Kingsguard; after them came Lord Steffon Baratheon and his wife.
Outside, the crowds roared like surf, commoners shouting the names of bride, groom, and king. Some who spied the silver-haired prince pressed forward for a touch of luck, only to be hauled back by the Gold Cloaks.
Rhaegar saw faces of every sort, mostly in plain wool, thin of muscle and cheek. Water bears the boat yet can also overturn it; fed, they are gentle—starved, they riot. King's Landing must be provisioned—he must feed the city, not rely on Lannister and Tyrell alone.
The commons loved peace and spectacle; Lannister sweetmeats, cakes, smoked meats, loaves, and roast fowl had won their hearts. A full belly made for loud cheers.
Rhaegar took the royal couple's hands, feeling how King Jaehaerys II had labored to honor Tywin.
Gold Cloaks held the outer ring; within them two hundred Baratheon men and two hundred Lannister men under Ser Kevan Lannister, while the Kingsguard ringed the king.
Tywin and his bride descended with the king and queen to receive cheers, then retired to the Lannister manse for the evening feast.
"Will you join the bedding, Aerys?" Lord Steffon asked Prince Aerys quietly.
Rhaegar thought the foul custom universal.
He glanced back: Aerys's eyes darted; Princess Rhaella's violet ones flared—Aerys had already made her life a torment. King Jaehaerys II and Queen Shaera turned as well.
"No—wine brings me headaches," Aerys said at once.
"Very well. I'll look in. Lucky my little stags are behaving." Lord Steffon clapped Aerys on the shoulder.
Torches blazed in the throne room for the night.
Perfume drifted, heady as wine; roast meats, fresh bread, and free ale flowed.
Rhaegar found King's Landing tolerable save for the cloying food—he would found a private kitchen.
Guests poured in, smiles wide; in their eyes Rhaegar read envy, jealousy, hunger.
Courtyard tables were laid for the commons, fare and drink far humbler.
A tide of silk, satin, velvet, and jeweled chains surged around him, scented with rose and peony.
Musicians crowded the gallery—drummers, pipers, fiddlers, horn-blowers, harpers, and bagpipers playing full tilt.
The throne room had become a moving feast.
Lords and ladies proudly announced their names and titles to heralds and swept to their seats; to dine at a royal wedding was honor itself. Pages in royal livery guided them.
Rhaegar sat before the king; Prince Aerys and Lord Steffon served as chief heralds, free to court every lord and wealthy merchant.
"Rhaegar, the turn is yours," King Jaehaerys II said, smiling at his grandson.
"Gladly."
"Fill the cups! First, to my lady wife—though I dare not drink too deep tonight." Lord Tywin raised the royal dragon-headed cup, its ruby eyes priceless, and toasted Lady Joanna.
"Long live King Jaehaerys II!"
"Hail the union of Lord Tywin Lannister and Lady Joanna Lannister!"
The hall thundered; cups rang as thousands clashed together—wine need not intoxicate when pride did.
Rhaegar lifted his own cup and sipped milk.
"Next, a small gift," King Jaehaerys II declared, and the hall fell silent.
"Prince Rhaegar Targaryen will play for the happiness of Lord Tywin Lannister and Lady Joanna."
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