“Isn’t that the Lord Baelin Lannister?” Emma said, looking to her left into the distance.
Visenya’s head jerked over to look at her sister, just in time to notice Silya flash Emma a look that told her the two hags had planned this together. She really really hated her family sometimes. So maybe she had been sticking to Silya and volunteering to represent her at various celebrations in the past year. Did they really have to notice everything? Violette didn’t seem surprised or confused, either, though a few of their brothers did.
Visenya shot her sisters dirty looks. This did a little explain why they had chosen to do their family reunion in King’s Landing this time, instead of Driftmark. Violette had told her it was for a change of pace. Emma had told her it was to set off more whispers that something had changed among the Velaryons. Looking at them now, she guessed it was so they could tease her about Lord Baelin. But she wouldn’t be fooled, there was no reason for him to be-
“Lady Visenya!” A familiar voice calling her name drew her eyes to the boy some distance from them, green-brown eyes zeroing in on her.
She squeaked and ducked behind her father, gripping his shirt and not daring to peek her head around him lest he really catch sight of her. She found herself shaking, hardly able to breathe. Why was he here? Surrounded by all her siblings and even her father and mother, he could hardly mistake her identity now.
He certainly did not.
Baelin approached the group of Velaryons. He’d recognized Princess Emma and Princess Silya almost immediately, and it hadn’t taken long for several of the others to register as well, Lady Violette Baratheon, Lady Isabel Greyjoy, Lord Aenor Velaryon, and of course the current Lord and Lady of the Tides. Lady Seraya looked somewhat amused by the proceedings, or at least thoughtfully interested. Lord Nikolaus, on the other hand, looked rather as if he was already planning Baelin’s funeral, but the young Lannister took a deep breath and forged on.
When he’d discovered that “Visenya Targaryen” didn’t exist, he’d been angry at first, but then he recalled that he had been the first to assume that she was a Targaryen. And once his anger had cooled, the rising question was, if she wasn’t a Targaryen… who was she?
He had written to Prince Kassian Martell as soon as possible, hoping he would share Princess Silya’s apparent desire to pay forward his good will. He’d been a little disappointed with reply, nothing more than a short, unsigned note by crow saying, “Lady Visenya will be in King’s Landing in precisely a fortnight.” He hadn’t been sure how the Master of Whisperers was supposed to know something like this, and if it was at all reliable, but it was the only information he’d been able to have, so he’d taken it.
Now that he saw her among her family, everything seemed to fall into place, even her discomfort about discussing her family, and especially her older siblings, who were the main subjects of the fight between their families.
He tried to look around the man who he now understood was her father, just to make sure he hadn’t imagined her there, but Lord Velaryon took one step forward, forcing himself into Baelin’s line of vision. Baelin had met the Lord of the Tides before, and he’d always been a physically imposing man, but he’d always thought it was the sort of imposing that one got used to as one got older and taller. But then, Lord Velaryon had clearly never bothered trying to scare him before.
Although the two of them were nearly the same height, something about the older man’s posture and expression got Baelin to back away. And once he’d backed away, he’d had enough space to see that Lord Velaryon had placed his left hand casually on the hilt of a long, wicked hunting dagger that would no doubt be easy to withdraw in a single movement to slash across Baelin’s face if he got too close. He blanched, slightly, and had to resist the urge to back up further, or reach fruitlessly for his own weapon. He was not here to fight anyone, he reminded himself.
“Do you have some business with me, my Lord?” Lord Velaryon asked quietly, hand never leaving the hilt of his knife.
“Erhm.” He had just made a beeline for the other man, it was a reasonable assumption. “No. Or, that is. Yes, eventually, I hope, but I was first hoping to speak to the lady behind you.” Baelin tried to explain, trying to look around Lord Velaryon again.
The grey-haired man just shifted slightly to more firmly block his view, then glanced behind himself, as if checking. “You appear to be confused. There is no one behind me, and even if there was, it would only be one of my daughters. What business could the heir of House Lannister have with a Velaryon?”
Baelin looked straight at Lord Velaryon to be outraged at the blatant lie, and then found himself taking another couple steps back. Those were extremely unfriendly eyes. He cleared his throat, and said, “I bear neither you nor any of your house any ill-will, my Lord.”
He heard a snort from one of the group, and turned his head in time to note the Lady Greyjoy muttering loudly enough for him to hear, “As if it matters if he bears anyone ill-will. It’d be easy enough to crush him if he tried anything.” He wrinkled his brow and gave an awkward laugh under his breath, unsure if he was supposed to pretend not to have heard anything.
“Isabel!” The Princess of Dorne snapped, quietly, before flashing him an all-too-innocent smile he imagined she might use on someone she was planning to politically disembowel as painfully and publicly as possible.
Princess Silya was the first to really address him, moving closer to her father, as well. “I apologize, my Lord. Not all of us got your letter detailing your desire to make amends.” She shot her father a reproachful look that Baelin was now certain was completely for show, and which the Lord Velaryon ignored altogether. “What brings you to King’s Landing?”
He stared at her in disbelief. “Do you pretend not to know?” This whole damn family was playing some kind of joke on him. “I have come in search of Lady Visenya, whom I wrote to you about a little over two weeks ago.”
She didn’t answer his first question, which was basically an answer in and of itself, “Was Prince Kassian helpful?”
Princess Emma jammed an elbow into her sister’s ribs, causing the other princess to wince slightly, but she otherwise seemed unapologetic about the potential slight to the Prince of Dorne. Baelin would have been amused, if he wasn’t growing so frustrated.
“His highness was very helpful and directed me here to King’s Landing.” A tiny noise of outrage came from behind Lord Velaryon about this betrayal, which surprisingly hurt. She’d really wanted to keep the truth from him as long as possible, had she? He took control of his temper, trying to remember what he’d been planning to say. “Please, I only wish to speak to her.”
Princess Emma regarded him with a polite confusion that he didn’t trust for a second. “Who, my Lord? This ‘Lady Visenya’ is not here.”
One of the men there leaned over to another and whispered, “What are they talking about? Visenya is right there.” The man he’d spoken to shrugged as if it wasn’t really important, but the man who’d asked received a very solid and noticeable foot to the shin from a lady Baelin didn’t recognize, with a shock of almost white, silver hair and dark, stormy grey eyes. Speaking to the Velaryons as a unit was exhausting and overwhelming, he had to admit.
Princess Emma’s eyes had flickered to the man who had spoken, and then she’d looked back at him and asked, “What could you have to say to this woman even if you did find her?”
Baelin shifted uneasily. “That is for her ears alone.”
The princess smiled and nodded, but seemed a bit disappointed, “Of course, my Lord. I didn’t mean to pry. I wish you luck on your search. I’m afraid we had plans today, and cannot continue to just stand here and converse with you all day.”
This seemed to be some kind of cue for the whole party to leave, because they began walking away as a unit. Baelin wanted to try and stop them, but what would be the point? They would all just act like a politely confused stone wall again and leave him with nothing.
He stared after them in frustration, hands balled into fists, and that was when he saw her again, a flash of her long brown hair glinting in the sun, as she looked back at him anxiously, clinging to her father’s shirt. Baelin took a step towards the group again, but she seemed to notice, and dashed again behind the safety of Lord Velaryon’s bulk.
For a moment, he wasn’t sure what to do, but then Baelin planted his feet and yelled at all of them, “VISENYA.” That got them to stop, alright, and Baelin thought one or two of them might be glaring at him, but there was only one person there whose reaction he really cared about. “Don’t you understand?! I don’t care that you’re a Velaryon! I don’t care that you pretended to be a Targaryen, and I don’t care what Aunt Margaery thinks about you or any of your siblings! All I care about, is you.”
He still couldn’t see her, but Lord Velaryon looked behind his own back, and was slowly shoved closer, still being used as a shield. She was listening, so he dropped to one knee and asked, “Lord Velaryon. I have been remiss for not contacting you sooner. Please give me your daughter, Lady Visenya, for my wife.”
There was a gasp from behind the other man, and Baelin had a moment’s satisfaction, as even most of the other women in the party looked rather shocked at that direct plea, but he’d had enough of games.
Visenya didn’t say anything, and after a moment’s glaring down at him, Lord Velaryon apparently decided he’d also had enough of games. “It seems House Lannister does not value the life of their heir.” The Lord withdrew his knife with his right hand, looking very prepared to genuinely gut him right there in public. “You should know before you die, that none of my daughters’ husbands have failed to secure their blessings before asking for mine, and yet you have the arrogance to, boy.”
Baelin looked at the other Velaryons, but none of them seemed inclined to help, or even looked particularly worried. A couple of them actually looked fairly amused. The Lord Velaryon raised his knife, and Baelin squeezed his eyes shut. A million thoughts ran through his head. That he wished he’d been able to secure her blessing before asking, and why had she had to lie to him? He wouldn’t have treated her any differently for being a Velaryon. And wouldn’t this cause trouble for House Velaryon, to so publicly execute a member of another house? Especially the Lannisters. Aunt Margaery was going to get them all killed, including Visenya. How stupid he’d been to so boldly challenge a man like the Master of Ships.
“Father, stop.”
Baelin opened his eyes to see Visenya standing in front of him, holding her father’s arm. He gently extricated himself from her grip and sheathed his knife, but said nothing, simply looking at his daughter. The corner of one mouth twitched slightly. The old snake! No wonder he hadn’t struck him down quickly. No wonder no one had looked worried. He’d threatened his life just to bring Visenya out of hiding.
At once, Baelin was angered and grateful. He took the opportunity he’d been given and sprang upwards, wrapping his arms around the girl’s shoulders so she couldn’t run away. A couple of her family members did jerk forward then, the silver-haired woman from earlier and Lady Greyjoy looking particularly outraged, but he ignored them. “Visenya. Stop making me chase you.” He whispered into her ear. “You can tell me the truth. It changes nothing. I’ll still want to be with you. I will still love you.”
Her eyes widened slightly, and then the smallest of tears seemed to well up in them. He reached up to wipe them away, but found himself ripped away from her and thrown to the ground, a sword at his throat. Baelin’s eyes widened, and he was about to stammer “L-Lord Velary-” except he realized the Lord Velaryon was crouching in front of Visenya, comforting her tears. He was currently being threatened by Lady Greyjoy. Why in the world did the women of this family wield swords?!
“What did you say to her?” The silver-haired woman said, also looming over him and looking absolutely furious.
“What does it matter what he said?” Lady Grejoy said, viciously. “He’s dead, either way.”
“Isabel, Jasmyne, leave him alone!” Came a very watery shout, and moments later, she was pushing them aside and helping him up, though she still looked a bit near tears. Gripping his hand tightly, she looked to Lord Velaryon. “Father. Would you mind terribly, if I- I would like to accept his- his proposal, or at least be allowed openly to spend time with him. Even though he is a Lannister, he’s not- he’s lovely.”
The older man’s face seemed to relax slightly, and his deep voice seemed touched with a smile, or perhaps Baelin was imagining that. “I’m afraid it is your sisters who have more stakes in this game than I.”
“Absolutely not!” Lady Greyjoy said, before whispering loudly, “He made her cry, we’re definitely killing him.”
“I don’t see the harm.” Lady Baratheon said, taking a step closer and rolling her eyes. “The best loves bring tears to one’s eyes. Besides, look at him. He’s like a forest bird. Hardly a threat.” Baelin had always thought himself decently tall and well-built, and was somewhat offended by that description, but he didn’t get a chance to voice that.
“It’s better to have a Lannister on our side, anyways.” Princess Silya said, with a shrug, offering her input, but not looking as if she cared much, either way.
Princess Emma, on the other hand, half-scowled, half-grinned, “It does make things less interesting, but if his aunt still opposes us, we might as well have a man on the inside. If he makes you happy, Visenya, I don’t see why you should feel you need father’s or our blessing to claim him. And if his aunt upsets you, you may as well just poison her and be done with it.” Baelin stared at all of them. Madmen, the lot of them.
But Visenya just laughed and then turned to him and said, “I accept your proposal, Lord Lannister.” Then she yanked on his lapel to bring him closer, and kissed him on the mouth.
He was too surprised to take advantage of it, and before he could do more than raise his hands to press her closer, she was pulled away from him, this time actually by her father, who did not look even a little bit amused as he declared, “That is enough.” He thought he might have heard for a moment, the Lord mutter to himself, “How can all of you take after your mother that way?”
The older man, still holding his daughter protectively, seemed to look down at Baelin, despite their relatively similar heights, but had put away his threatening demeanor and returned to the imposing, but quiet man Baelin remembered, “You may visit Driftmark castle if you wish to see your betrothed, or meet at occasions with an escort. You have shown some spirit, my Lord, and I will not punish it.” The other Velaryons left his side to join their father, as he moved away to wherever they had originally been going, but the Ladies Isabel and Jasmyne gave him identical threatening looks before moving off, and when they were all gone, Baelin felt his knees wobble slightly. One part of him hoped none of them would be invited to the wedding; he’d never felt so threatened in his life. But that meant there would be a wedding, and Visenya would be his, and that thought brought a smile to his mouth.