Chapter 31: Home
The king's festivities passed with the sennight, though some lords and their sons would remain guests of the Red Keep for a while longer.
Lelouch was not one of them. It had been necessary for him to attend not just as a hero of the war and to receive the king's honors, but also to keep his finger on the political pulse of things. He was high in the king's esteem for now, but to rest one's fortunes on such things was to build a castle on sand. Esteem could turn with the flip of a coin.
His mother from another life lost hers to teach him that lesson, and only a fool forgot lessons so painfully bought.
Now that his family's gains from the war were secured though, it was time to go home. The gods knew it had been too long since he'd set foot on home, since he'd spoken with his sister Alarra and Mother…
Part of him wondered, however, if home would truly still feel like home after all this time, and with so many of his kin away? His father would be remaining in King's Landing as the master of ships, despite the ill airs affecting his health. He had known Corwyn would remain as well, not just because he was courting Ser Leyton Hightower's eldest daughter, but because he'd been inducted into the king's new royal order as the Knight of Bloodstone.
Twelve other men of noble stock held that honor, earned either by their own deeds or through their families. Each island of the Stepstones—barring Tyrosh itself and its colony of Pryr—had a knight tasked with its defense, and, far more importantly, invested many great lords of Westeros to the defense of those lands through kin or the kiss of marriage.
Corwyn would also be expected to assist Lord Baratheon in his campaign against the pirate holdouts, to which the Driftmark fleet had been committed.
"You do not look glad to be returning home," Corwyn said as they embraced. "Missing the glory of battle already?"
"There is only one war left I wish to fight, and it is not against sellsails," Lelouch said. "Take care of yourself, and do not get cocky just because you're a knight now. A man can gut you—"
"—just as easily with a knife as any other weapon," Corwyn finished with a smile. "It has only been a few months since we were on campaign. I remember your lessons still. Don't worry, I'll make you proud."
Lelouch sighed and clapped him on the back. "To hell with pride. Be safe."
"I will," Corwyn said solemnly.
He'd offered his warnings, and whether his brother truly took them to heart, Lelouch could not know now. He hoped that their lessons during the war had not been in vain, that the ugly truth of it had tempered his brother's rose-tinted view.
His cousin Kiren stepped forward next. "Promise me you won't spend every waking hour moping," she said. "Gods, I can only imagine how terrible a host you'll be to Princess Rhaella without any of us to keep you in check."
"The worst of it is out of me," Lelouch said. "But I'm touched by your care."
"I care that you do not hurt her. She's a sweet girl, and wholly undeserving of that," Kiren said. "Keep in mind, you may be betrothed now, but there's still a year to go before you're wed before the gods. Her Grace is a princess still, lest you forget." Left unsaid was that she had no end of suitors if things between them soured.
"I do know how to be charming when I want to," Lelouch called out.
"The problem is you want it so rarely these days," Kiren said, holding a hand up in farewell even as she walked off to join Rhaella's ladies-in-waiting bidding the princess farewell. It only made sense that she did considering she'd be the lady-in-waiting of another princess soon enough.
Then, at last, he was face to face with his cousin, and found himself without the right words. Neither did Donnall it seemed.
After several long seconds of pause, Donnall smiled awkwardly. "This may be the first time I've seen you without a quick quip."
"You may be right," Lelouch said, tilting his head.
"Gods, it feels a bit strange doesn't it?" Donnall asked. "We've been together for all these years… neither of us ever realized this day would come."
"It's only for a few months," Lelouch said. "That is, unless some Dornishwoman manages to find her way into your bed and steal you away."
He chuckled. "My mother will be hovering over me the whole time I'm there to hear Uncle Gascoyne speak of her."
"As she should. Any mother would be proud to have you for a son," Lelouch said. "And yet, she might think to help some girl along if only to rope you closer to home."
"Surely you jest. The dishonor it'd cause—"
"The Dornish take paramours, and they do not think bastardry is a stain," Lelouch answered. "It is one of the things they get right."
"You shouldn't worry regardless," Donnall said. "I can't say I enjoy sand that doesn't come from a shore. I've heard stories of Dorne's dunes, and I imagine I'll tire of them eventually."
Lelouch bobbed his head, spying Omorfia from the corner of his eye. If anyone could pry his cousin from his service, it'd probably be her, though at least he could be confident that her affections seemed real enough.
They'd shared some words already, right after his father had declared the regents unnecessary with Lelouch's return to Driftmark. He'd not forgotten he owed her for keeping an eye on the alchemist's purchases—still just great quantities of lead and charcoal since Summerhall it turned out. Lelouch did not know all their secrets, but he was fairly sure those weren't the ingredients for wildfire.
Omorfia still had not decided on how she'd prefer to be repaid, though promised an answer within a year's time. Perhaps she was waiting for him to rise higher to collect interest? He wouldn't begrudge her that.
"Take care of yourself," Lelouch said to Donnall.
Donnall grinned. "Shouldn't I be saying that to you?"
There were a few more well-wishers to see off. The Baratheons had told him to take care of Rhaella, while Aerys had come along to express his utmost confidence that he would. Tywin had offered a stoic nod, and wishes of good fortune. Joanna Lannister and Myriah Martell wished him safe travels and begged him to ask his sister Alarra to write back to them when convenient. His cousin Selwyn, now the Lord of Tarth, told him that his Uncle Stephas' funeral would be held in a sennight, and Lelouch promised he and his mother would attend. There was a babble of other lords and ladies, mostly from the crownlands, too.
Then, at last, Rhaella drew closer, clutching a handful of parchment in one hand. Lelouch offered her his arm. "Shall we depart, Your Grace?"
She linked her arms with his, and together they boarded the Seafyre.
About a quarter of the ships sworn to Driftmark, especially those which required repair and refitting, were already docked at Hull and Spicetown. Another quarter, a little over a score of ships all in all, were acting as an escort.
The remaining half staying at King's Landing would answer to Captain Bluebeard of the Season of Tides, though nominally they'd all be under his brother's command to soothe the protests of any lords having to take orders from "an upjumped Tyroshi sellsail". Bluebeard had proven himself a competent right hand to Uncle Adamm for many years, and Lelouch had witnessed his skill at the helm many times during the war. No one sworn to House Velaryon knew the narrow sea as well as he did.
The homeward fleet caught a steady south easterly wind, departing without trouble from sea or shore. It was a hot wind for spring, Lelouch idly noted, which meant a sweltering summer in about a year's time. Cotton and Dornish silk were always in high demand, but linen merchants would make a respectable profit if the coming summer dragged on long enough.
"I heard she was in Myr," Rhaella said from beside him at last, arm still entwined with his like a creeping vine. "For a few months at least, or so I'm told."
She did not have to specify who, of course. There was only one woman in Essos the princess would be interested in speaking of to him. "I regret to inform you that your news is outdated, Your Grace," Lelouch said with a touch of her wrist. Her pulse was racing. "Cici is in Lys now."
"You are remarkably well informed of her travels for someone you sent away, my lord," Rhaella said.
Was that jealousy? From her? "I have already lost family to Essos. I would not lose a friend to it too."
"Is that all she is to you?" Rhaella pressed. "A friend?"
"A very good friend," Lelouch said. "The best of friends even, but in the end, just a friend." It was not wholly the truth, but perhaps that was the only truth Rhaella might understand for now. "She has never been my mistress, and will never be my wife. That honor is yours and yours alone."
The princess smiled at him, though her hands left his. "Then as your future wife, I must claim grievance."
"Oh? Do tell."
"Might I remind you that you spent most of that year adventuring in Essos with my brother with nary a thought spared on me," Rhaella said. "Why, I almost thought you'd forgotten I existed until I received your gift!" The standing mirror he'd liberated from Lys' Seraglio was currently stored below the deck alongside Rhaella's personal effects.
"I had my mind on the war, I will admit," Lelouch said. "But I had not forgotten you, not even for a moment."
"Yet you did not write."
"How many lordlings wrote to you during the war? Dozens at the very least, I imagine. Would my words have found any purchase with you among them?" Lelouch asked.
Rhaella tilted her head. "I have observed you capable of speaking at great length, and most eloquently."
"A minstrel's words make the sweetest sounds, but like him they are soon forgotten."
A thoughtful look crossed the princess' face. "You hold words in such contempt when you are so gifted with them."
"It is not the words I hate," Lelouch said in a quieter tone. "Only those who speak them without thought. Worthless are the words which are empty."
"And what," Rhaella asked, "gives words worth?"
"Action," Lelouch answered, steady as the rhythm of dipping oars. "Many are those who will say what they'll do, but how many do what they say? Since we met, I have not lied to you once."
Rhaella nodded. "This I cannot deny. You have been honest with me, even when it was to your benefit to do otherwise. Why is that, Lelouch?"
"Is there any sense in promising what I cannot or will not do? The comfort of a lie is brief, and turns bitter before long."
She looked away, turning her gaze to Spicetown. The island was not far off now by Lelouch's estimates. Most of the newly chartered city's wooden residences were finished already, ensuring the mix of Essosi craftsmen would be housed. He knew from Hughes' reports that there were tensions bubbling beneath the surface—there always were in cases like this, but the one-handed knight had done well leading a cohort of armed men and keeping the violence from breaking out.
A better answer would have to be found though, if Spicetown was to last.
"My father tells me the revenues of that city are to be my dowry, to be held for me and my children in perpetuity," Rhaella said. "It does not seem like much."
"Valyria wasn't built in a day," Lelouch said. "Spicetown will become the jewel of the narrow sea as it was in days past."
"How many do what they say," she repeated softly, but there was no mockery in her tone. It was a reminder and a gentle one. "Do you know when Cici shall return?"
"Who can say?" Lelouch said. "Cici is like the very winds and waves, coming and going of her own volition. The best one can do is keep an eye on her movements, and try to predict her intent."
"Some say even those forces of nature obey your will," Rhaella said. "They call you the Stormcaller, do they not?"
"An epithet from the war, not proof of some divine power," Lelouch said. "Unless you believe in seamen's superstitions that is, but you don't strike me as the type."
"We've hardly known each other long enough for you to know that."
"We were introduced over a year ago, Your Grace. We're hardly recent acquaintances," Lelouch said.
"Is time the sum of relationships?" She threw his own words back at him from a feast not long ago.
"It certainly helps," Lelouch said, replying as she had.
Rhaella nodded. "I'd hear your best guess then, as to when Cici might return."
Lelouch made a show of thinking, before answering, "Some months at the earliest before Essos settles down from all the recent excitement."
"But she will return one day," Rhaella said with more firmness.
Lelouch nodded slowly.
"I should like to meet her upon her return, I think," Rhaella declared, "to take her measure. It is only right that I do."
"You will be the Lady of Driftmark," Lelouch said. "It would be her honor to meet you."
"You place a great deal of trust in that woman, to let her go as she pleases and to act in your name." Rhaella said as she turned to part. "I hope you will extend such a courtesy to me one day."
—Zero Requiem—
They disembarked at the port of Spicetown to great fanfare, not just from the Essosi majority that lived in the town, but also from Driftmark's natives—many of whom had traveled just to see Lelouch and Rhaella's arrival.
"Even the Essosi adore you," Rhaella said.
"I gave them a home," Lelouch said. "I gave them their freedom, and a future for their children that would not see them bound in chains."
"So I've heard," Rhaella said as he led her down the ramp, from ship to shore. "But what I've never been able to figure out is why? You do not strike many as a particularly pious man to go to such lengths."
"I'm not," Lelouch said. "Pious, that is."
"Oh." The disappointment was unmistakable in her tone. "Then you did it to further the industry of Driftmark then?"
Lelouch gave her the ghost of a smile. "You sound displeased by the thought, Your Grace. I promised it would be the jewel of the narrow sea, and such things do not come to be by happenstance."
"I know that," she said irritably. "It's just…"
"It's just you thought there would be more meaning to it than that," Lelouch finished for her. Ever the romantic, he thought.
She pinched his arm subtly, even as she smiled and waved for the crowds. "You're teasing me." After a moment, she added, "You also promised not to lie to me."
"I did." Rhaella had clearly spent her time in King's Landing talking to a great deal of his allies. "You are not wrong. There is more to my motives than what I've said," Lelouch said as the carriage prepared for her arrived before them.
Her eyes snapped onto his for a second, then shifted between the carriage and his silver-grey destrier, Seasmoke. "Seeing as Spicetown's profits are promised to me, I would prefer to have an unobstructed view."
"Should I call for another horse then?" Lelouch asked. He leaned closer to her, whispering, "Or would you prefer to ride with me?"
The tips of her ears flushed. She chose to ride with him, of course. How could she bear to leave their conversation be after he'd dangled a prize bait before her? They looked like something from a story on Seasmoke, his arms circling her lithe body as they reached for the reins.
The crowd loved it.
"If you'll look to your right, Your Grace, you'll see the makings of a school," Lelouch began.
"A school?" Rhaella asked.
"A building where the peasants may learn their letters and sums," Lelouch said. "Many of the Essosi do not speak our language, while many Westerosi do not know how to count or have the skills to take up the eastern trades. If they're ever to think of themselves as one people one day, this is a necessary step." It would also get the children used to each other. Neighbors might still quarrel, but rarely would they see each other as the other.
It would be a ruinous luxury for most other houses to provide such welfare for their peasants, but Driftmark's coffers were filled to the brim with Lyseni gold and treasures captured from Old Mother's captive fleets. In a fit of irony, those very same ships of the pirate queen were now being repurposed by Driftmark to keep the Stepstones clear of their own ilk and ensuring the trade routes Driftmark would come to rely on remained open.
"As for those buildings too large to be houses," Lelouch continued, purposefully drawing out his words, "they will be the foundations of many guilds. The Essosi know their trades well, and with two of the Three Daughters ravaged, opportunities abound."
Myr was well known for its finished goods—carpets and lace and lenses, and even their tapestries would not lose to those of Qohorik make. They had a vivid style of painting and making miniatures too, as well as wines fiery and pale green. As for Lys, he had their alchemists who knew the secrets of turning water sweet or sour or deadly.
He wouldn't delude himself into thinking Driftmark could come to dominate all of these crafts. It was still, in the end, an island of a hundred thousand souls competing against the hundreds of thousands that resided in the Free Cities. But carving out a niche in a handful was well within the realm of possibilities.
"You know that this is not why I asked to ride with you," Rhaella said, interrupting his guided tour.
Lelouch laughed. "I beg for the princess' pardon then."
"I would hear your motives before the sun sets," Rhaella pressed. "And if you tease me any longer I shall… I shall push you off your horse!"
"Would you really?" Lelouch asked. That would be most bold of her.
He imagined her eyes narrowing. "Would you like to test me?"
"I dare not," Lelouch said. "As for my motives… it is not a lie to say I wished to better Driftmark, but it would not be the whole truth either." His grip on the reins tightened, and Rhaella seemed to shrink. I have seen oppression in my time, and seen enough of it for two lives, Lelouch thought.
But that wasn't the whole truth either, was it? How much had he really cared about the sufferings of people in the beginning?
How much had been for his own vengeance?
"The truth is they shackled my uncle." He breathed out. "And I would rather the world burn than abide by such a vile thing."
"How many do what they say," Rhaella said softly, not to him, but to the wind. "You care deeply for him."
"I would trade away all of my wealth and glory to have him back," Lelouch said. "Would that the world be so simple?"
"Your… friend, Cici, was enslaved as well, was she not?"
"Briefly," Lelouch said. Had Lashare not beaten him to it, he would have burned Myr to the ground to see her freed if necessary.
"I suppose I find it curious that you care a great deal for her too, yet it is not her enslavement, but your uncle's that drives you to such lengths," Rhaella said.
Because you didn't fail with her, his treacherous mind whispered, like you failed with your uncle.
"I would speak of more pleasant things now," Lelouch said, turning his head to the side. "The construction of High Tide is coming along well." Its outline could be seen rising in the distance. It was still a few years from finishing, but Lelouch suspected at least the main keep would be fit for living before he and Rhaella were wed. It would be an auspicious start to the castle's story.
"As you say," Rhaella said in a tone subdued.
When they arrived at the gates of Castle Driftmark, the whole household was waiting. Mother stood as regal as ever, but her eyes were warm and welcoming at the sight of them. And Alarra had grown beautiful once more.
Lelouch ran forward to embrace the pair of them.
He was home.
AN: Yeah Covid didn't get to me.
As for what I've been up to since last time, well I finally went public with my Original Fiction "The Lady's Handbook of Intrigue and Murder", available on both RoyalRoad and Spacebattles. Story links avaialble on my profile (or you can just google it).
If like me, you've ever wondered what Cersei would be like if she wasn't a moron, or if you're just craving good political intrigue (or want to see cool pegasi knights throwing magic javelins at peasants), then you might like this. It's the politics of GoT with the magic of Harry Potter.
If anyone wants to hang out, I made a discord server for all of my stories. discord. gg/awaRh4baQv (remove the space between discord. and gg)