“But I don’t see why you have to get married at all.” Ellabette said.
“Hah, as if Senny wanted to stay and take care of your messes for the rest of her life.” Janvier retorted, practically pushing Mariseine up the walkway of the boat.
Mariseine Celtigar didn’t let herself get pushed all the way up, leaning back against her third sister’s hands to smile at them, all 13 of her younger sisters, in various states of emotions at her leaving. They were acting as though she was about to die, when it wasn’t as though she wouldn’t see them again as soon as the wedding started. Her father had simply thought, with a 2 year old boy as a part of their entourage, that it’d be best the bride go a day earlier than the rest of them. She was grateful for it, really. The entire affair had been arranged in the space of a few months between Lord Celtigar and Lord Velaryon, and this would be her first chance to meet her future husband and his family. She didn’t want her sisters to see her struggling, if there was any struggling to be done.
“Well fine.” Ellabette went on. “But a Velaryon.” It was all the girls had talked about since their father had announced the marriage a week ago. Mariseine had known as soon as the talks had begun, but they’d thought – and been quite right, too – that it would be best not to tell her sisters until the last possible moment. Sen had known the second her brother was born that her only job now was to marry, and as soon as possible before she got too old to find a decent home, but her sisters had barely thought about what Varys’ birth would change about their sister’s place as caretaker of the family. “Velaryons are crazy. I heard Violette Velaryon almost poked a lord’s eyes out for looking at her sideways.”
Mariseine laughed, pushing her salt-and-pepper curls away from her face, dark blue eyes twinkling at their absurdities. She would miss them, whatever the Velaryons were like. Over Janvier’s continued pushing, she assured them, “I’m sure I’ll be fine, Ella. And I’ll see you all soon!” She called, before finally conceding to make her way all the way onto the boat. She waved at all of them from the deck of the ship, blowing kisses and holding back tears, and then went below deck, hoping to get a little rest as the ship set off, determined not to be daunted by the stories. Her father had only her best interests in mind. Surely he would not marry her off to anyone so very bad.
When she arrived at Driftmark’s port, she wondered perhaps if she’d misjudged the situation.
She was greeted almost as soon as she stepped off the ship, by the sight of what appeared to be Lord Velaryon and every single one of his children, unmistakable with their variety of grey hair and purple eyes. The first thing she noted, was that several of the women in the party looked displeased, but then she drew actually closer to them, and realized that, much more importantly, a number of them quite towered over her. Sen had never been the daintiest of women, her frame most kindly described as perhaps matronly, and while a few of the people present, particularly the younger ones, were her height or shorter, Lord Velaryon’s bulk had clearly been inherited by a couple of the men, and even to some extent a woman staring daggers at her, arms folded across her chest, but a sword strapped to her side.
Lord Velaryon approached her first, voice grave and almost cold. “Welcome to Driftmark, Lady Mariseine. Your things are being directed to Driftmark castle, but you shall ride with us the rest of the way.”
She curtsied, doing her best to look unfazed. “Thank you, my lord. You’re very generous.” Generous indeed. She’d been able to see High Tide and Driftmark castle as the ship had arrived, and while neither were mere steps away, it certainly would not have been a very difficult distance to make her walk. As large and intimidating as Lord Velaryon seemed, perhaps he was a nice person after all.
He only nodded, as if it was the obvious thing to state about him, and then stepped a little to the side. “If I might present my first son, Aenor Velaryon.” He almost seemed to sigh just a little, not with his breath, but his whole body, when he caught sight of the angry-looking sturdy woman with the sword on her hip, determined to come with Sen’s betrothed. “And my eldest, Violette Velaryon.”
As Aenor and Violette Velaryon stepped forward, Mariseine found herself leaning back slightly, head tilting just a little farther up than she was quite used to. Aenor Velaryon was much like his father, perhaps even just a little taller, with a strong, bulky frame and sturdy features, but he seemed softer somehow, almost shy. With his black hair and eyes that lovely lilac color, she almost thought he could have been described as pretty. He was fidgeting his hands just ever so slightly, but his bow was very proper, voice quiet but sure, as he said, “It’s lovely to meet you, my lady.”
“And I, you.” Mariseine said, finding herself smiling slightly as she curtsied back.
Violette Velaryon, on the other hand, while neither as tall nor as explicitly vast as her brother or father, held herself solidly, strength seeming to emanate from every pore, obvious even more from her stance than the muscles of her bared arms. Despite her name, she was very grey, if Sen had to describe her. Steel grey hair, pale grey eyes, a frosty manner that made it clear that Sen had not at all been joyfully anticipated. Her arms still folded across her chest, she seemed to intentionally pull herself upward, as if to make it more obvious that she was taller than Sen and would be very happy to squash her like a bug. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She said, not at all sounding like she meant it, and not deciding to curtsey or bow in greeting as her brother had.
Mariseine smiled anyways, and curtsied exactly as she had with her future betrothed. “Much more my pleasure than yours, I’m sure, my lady.”
The other woman scowled at her, but the response didn’t seem to have been fully expected, and it seemed to stop her long enough from drawing her sword and beheading her right there, for her father to intervene and make the rest of the introductions. She barely had a moment to speak to them all, but while the men seemed entirely neutral towards her, the young twin girls (and even a bit their slight elder with the pale violet eyes) looked at her like they might stab her just to see what she was made of on the inside. They were nothing like her family. As rambunctious as the Celtigar brood was, none of them felt dangerous. But just as Sen was starting to resign herself to feeling on guard for the rest of her life, she found herself crouching in front of a five-year-old girl, a strange silvery sheen to her brown hair, mildly purple grey eyes. The little thing looked nervous, and did not offer an introduction at all.
Instead, after staring at her with big eyes for a bit, she whispered loudly, “Are you coming to take my brother away?” There was a pout to her lips, but her eyes were quite dry and quite serious, as if getting ready to slap her if she said the wrong thing.
And right then and there Sen felt right at home. Her eyes crinkled with the sort of joy she only ever felt around her sisters, and without thinking she said, “Why, I should never dream of it, lady. If anything, my sisters should feel he’s taking me away.”
The little girl – Visenya, was her name, if she’d heard correctly from her father – scrunched up her lips sympathetically. “Oh. You have sisters, too. All my sisters are annoying.”
Ignoring the coughs of laughter around her, Sen took her little hand and said, “Well then, what say we agree, that I shall be as little annoying as I can, and in turn, I get to become your favorite sister.” She tilted her head up ever so slightly at a slight gasp of outrage whose owner she couldn’t quite identify, and for just a half second, a mischievous twinkle entered her eye.
But then, little Visenya, with an oddly blasé manner, waved her hand as if dismissing Mariseine, and just said, “Sure.” Before focusing her attention back on a piece of rather sticky candy Sen had not previously noticed had been clutched in her other hand. Sen just gave the little girl’s hand a quick kiss, greeted the last kid – a boy who seemed entirely uninterested in her altogether – before standing again, and giving them all one last curtsey. See? Hadn’t she been right, after all? These Velaryons didn’t seem so very bad at all.