Chapter 28: The Old and the New - 112 AC

The journey to Crab's Return proceeded quietly, albeit with some jostling as the carriage lacked proper suspensions. Princess Rhaenyra occupied the seat's far end, seated across from Lady Laena, her gaze fixed upon the passing scenery from the outset until their near arrival at their destination. The landscape, while lacking the picturesque charm of bygone eras, held its own appeal depending on one's perspective. Six years prior, it had been characterized by barren fields, dirt-paved thoroughfares, and the rugged beauty of beaches and cliffs adorned with massive boulders. However, a transformation is now underway; much of the once-empty expanse now hosts a partition of construction sites, gradually reshaping the island. Though many structures remained unfinished—walls, towers, and even some pathways transitioning from dirt to stone—Princess Rhaenyra found solace in the stark contrast to the overcrowdedness of King's Landing. The relative openness, diminished crowds, and the absence of pungent odors offered a refreshing change, particularly given her limited excursions beyond the confines of the Red Keep. Thus, any unfamiliar sight held a sense of welcome novelty for the princess. Of course, she's used to watching it from afar from dragonback, but not this close.

"Claw Isle presents itself in its finest attire this season," remarked Laena, her smile warm as she cast her gaze upon the same scenery as the princess. "However, one must acknowledge the capricious nature of its beauty. More often than not, skies here are veiled in clouds or swept by the storm."

The princess nodded in agreement, her eyes lingering on the scenery beyond. "Lord Celtigar has chosen an opportune moment for the tournament. While I've flown near Claw Isle on numerous occasions with Syrax, the firsthand view is quite distinct, more pleasant." Rhaenyra shifted her attention from the window to the two gentlemen seated beside Lady Laena, then back to the lady herself with a curious expression. "I presume your husband, then, will extend greetings to my father upon his arrival at the port?"

"Yes, alongside his father, the lord," confirmed Laena with a nod. "It's a great honor that His Grace has accepted our invitation, especially with you joining in, Princess."

"I... am here at my father's behest," replied Rhaenyra, her tone tinged with uncertainty. Laena noticed the princess's subtle glance toward Laenor, a gesture not lost on her.

"I see," Laena acknowledged with a soft hum, turning her attention to Prince Daemon, who had been observing the proceedings with keen interest. His intense gaze seemed to unsettle Arthor, drawing an amused reaction from the prince. "And what of you, my prince? Shall we see your name grace the tourney's list?"

"I am unsure, my lady. My days of tourneys have long since passed," the prince responded calmly, a hint of distraction in his demeanor. "Will your husband partake?"

Laena chuckled lightly. "My husband is a man of unpredictable whims, one might say. While he hasn't mentioned participating himself, I wouldn't rule it out entirely."

The prince merely acknowledged it with a nod before directing his gaze towards Laenor, who had remained silent throughout. "And what of you, Laenor? Shall we see your name gracing the tourney's list?"

"I am not yet dubbed a knight, my prince," Laenor replied calmly.

"You are a dragonrider, and being not a knight yet is no reason you can't partake," Daemon interjected. "Your good brother entered one at four and ten. How many years grace you now?"

"Eight and ten," Laenor replied, avoiding direct eye contact. "But I am not cut from the same cloth as my good brother."

Daemon chuckled softly, a touch of mockery in his tone, then shifted his gaze toward the window. "Quite so," he murmured. "You are indeed not your good brother."

Hearing this exchange, Laena's brow furrowed slightly. "Is something amiss, my prince?" she inquired.

"Not in the least, my lady," Daemon replied, turning to her with a slight smile. "I shall await to see if your husband deems the grounds worthy of his attendance. Should he, perhaps I shall grace the tourney grounds once more."

Laena returned the smile, while Laenor seemed inclined to avoid further discourse with the Targaryens. "It would indeed be a pleasure to witness your prowess in battle once more."

Following that, the journey fell into a silence, albeit slightly strained by the prince's gentle mockery. Nonetheless, it proved bearable, as the carriage now approached the gates of Crab's Return. As the gates parted, granting entry to the castle, the group beheld a flurry of activity within the courtyard. Noble lords and ladies bustled about, attending to their belongings, while others awaited the king's arrival. At the sight of a carriage bearing the Celtigar insignia, many tensed momentarily, mistaking it for the king's approach.

Halting precisely at the castle's entrance, a guard unlatched the carriage door, allowing the princess to alight first, followed by the prince and their companions. Observing the princess and prince, the gathered nobility relaxed somewhat, though they still bowed respectfully to the royal family before returning to their tasks.

"Welcome to Crab's Return, my prince, princess," Laena greeted with a graceful smile. "Forgive my abrupt departure, but I must see to your dragon's needs. My good cousin, Arthor, will escort you through the castle."

Young Arthor bowed somewhat clumsily to the two. "My prince, princess, allow me to lead you to your chambers."

Rhaenyra simply nodded to the boy before addressing Laena. "Thank you, Laena. Perhaps we shall reconvene in the evening?"

Laena chuckled softly. "Of course, Princess. It would be an honor."

======

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the hosts of the tourney convened within the dining halls of Crab's Return, accompanied by the newly arrived Targaryens. The atmosphere was one of tranquility as the room was bathed in the gentle glow of candlelight nestled in its corners, while vigilant guards stationed themselves at the thresholds. Arrayed before the assembled guests were an abundance of culinary delights, sourced predominantly from the bountiful lands of Claw Isle and beyond. Among them were succulent crabs, luscious lobsters, delectable prawns, and exquisite oysters, each prepared in its own unique fashion, ensuring a variety to cater to all palates and preferences.

The table stretched long and wide, with the king himself positioned at the middle, symbolizing his status. Bartimos, lord of the land, sat opposite him. Alongside them sat their families, alongside the Velaryons. They dined in tranquility, particularly the king, who had a rather arduous journey here.

"Is the fare to your liking, your grace?" Bartimos inquired with a smile. "We have assembled the finest offerings from Claw Isle for this evening."

"It is the most delectable meal I've had in quite some time, Lord Bartimos," the king remarked eagerly, his eating uninterrupted. "I would ask that you provide my attendants with the recipes for these dishes, so that I may relish them within mine own home. However, these ingredients seem so fresh; it is doubtful they will taste the same within the confines of the Red Keep."

Bartimos chuckled softly. "Certainly, your grace. I shall instruct my cooks to dispatch the recipes to your own."

With a crisp crack of the crab's shell, the king posed his question, addressing Lord Bartimos with regal intrigue. "The lords are converging upon your isle like flies, Lord Bartimos. I understand the tourney is set to commence in a few days' time?"

"Indeed, your grace," Bartimos responded serenely. "We are awaiting the finalization of the tourney's roster, and some lords have sent word of their late arrival. Truth be told, hosting such festivities for the first time proves quite taxing."

"I recall the strain of organizing a tourney of this magnitude myself," chuckled the king, his hand lightly brushing the queen's shoulder to his left. "It was for my anniversary with my wife. Fear not, Lord Bartimos, you shall manage admirably."

"Thank you, your grace," Bartimos replied with a smile.

"Speaking of the tournaments, Ser Clement, do you intend to inscribe your name upon the list?" the king diverted the conversation. "It has been some time since you graced the tourney grounds. It would be a pleasure to witness your skill once more."

Ser Clement glanced at Laena, who was engrossed in conversation with the princess, before returning his attention to the king. "I had not planned to, your grace, given my role as the tourney's host. However, if you wish, I shall gladly write my name."

The king chuckled at the response but made no further comment, turning instead to Daemon. "My brother joined the tourneys that I was hosting all the time, you ponder the etiquettes too deeply, ser."

Clement smiled faintly. "Very well, your grace, I shall add my name to the list."

"Include mine as well," Daemon interjected suddenly, causing Clement to turn towards him.

Clement raised an eyebrow. "As you wish, my prince."

The king hummed in apparent satisfaction with the exchange but was interrupted by the queen, who discreetly touched his hand, prompting his attention.

"Husband," she whispered, seemingly triggering a recollection from the king.

"Ah, yes," the king exclaimed, refocusing on the matter at hand. "Lord Corlys, Lord Bartimos, I would like to converse with you both privately. Perhaps we could arrange a meeting just before the tourney begins?"

Corlys appeared intrigued, exchanging a knowing glance with Bartimos, who nodded in agreement. "Of course your grace, we would be honored," Corlys replied, a smile gracing his face.

======

In the depths of night, Clement traversed the stone passageways of Crab's Return, making his way towards his father's chambers. Silence enveloped the air, though faint murmurs occasionally drifted from the lords and ladies lodging within the castle. Dimly lit by sparse candles, the corridors cast shifting shadows.

A lone sentinel stood before the chamber door, poised and watchful. Upon Clement's approach, he straightened, acknowledging the son of the lord with a respectful nod.

"Milord," he greeted.

Halting before the chamber entrance, Clement inquired, "Is my father inside?"

"He has yet to return, milord," the guard replied.

Clement arched a quizzical brow. "And where might he be, then?"

"He went to the crypts, my lord, accompanied by Lord Manderly," the guard continued. "It occurred approximately an hour ago, as I recall."

"Understood," Clement mused. "Thank you, ser. Carry on."

The guard merely nodded, and Clement turned away, not towards the crypts, but toward his own chambers. He intended to discuss the king's arrival and their forthcoming conversation with his father. However, upon learning of his father's current engagement, he decided it could wait until the morrow.

As he traversed the corridor once more, his footsteps reverberated through the area. Initially, only his own were audible, but soon he discerned the approach of two more sets. From the shadows emerged his father and Lord Demond Manderly. Upon encountering each other, the trio paused, and Clement noticed Lord Manderly's smile directed at him.

"The golden child of Claw Isle," remarked Lord Desmond Manderly. "It has been years since I have last seen you, at the Maidenpool tourney, if memory serves. You left quite the impression, lad."

"Uncle," Clement responded with a faint smile. "It is a pleasure to meet you. I do not recall conversing with you during the tourney."

"So you are aware that I am your mother's brother," chuckled the man, his laughter resonating in the corridor. "Indeed, we have not exchanged words then, now that I reflect upon it. My last visit to this island was..."

An abrupt hush fell over the surroundings, and the previously jovial demeanor of Desmond turned somber. He sighed. "Let us cease dwelling on somber matters anymore this evening. Will you be participating in the tourney once more?"

"I shall," nodded Clement.

Desmond enthusiastically patted Clement's shoulder. "Then I eagerly anticipate it."

Lord Manderly's gaze shifted to Bartimos, who had been smiling throughout the exchange. "What say you, Bartimos, shall we bring your son along?"

"You ought to inquire of him," Bartimos replied, entertained.

"And where might you be going?" inquired Clement with curiosity.

"We are convening for a drink, we're to fetch your father's brother now." Desmond grinned. "So, what say you, lad?"

Clement shook his head with amusement. "I regret to decline, uncle, as my wife awaits me in our chambers."

"Ah, you are a grown man now," Desmond laughed heartily. "Very well, let the old drunk themselves to a stupor while the youth enjoy themselves. Until we meet again, nephew."

Clement chuckled as Desmond passed by. He glanced at his father, who also chuckled at the antics of the Lord of White Harbor, and followed suit. It seemed Clement's decision to postpone his discussion with his father was prudent. He resolved to allow his father to savor the evening with his old friend...

Finally, Clement proceeded onward through the darkness, towards his chambers.

======

As the guard stationed before his chamber graciously opening the door for him, Clement entered the quiet respite of his and his wife's chambers. Within, silence reigned, yet faint murmurs emanated from his study, distinctly feminine in nature. A curious occurrence, he mused, presuming it to be Laena and the household servants engaging with their children. Approaching a table adjacent to his study's threshold, which afforded a vantage of the chamber's sleeping quarters, Clement poured himself a measure of wine.

"Laena?" he inquired, projecting his voice, while leisurely imbibing the crimson liquid. "Are you in my study?"

"Yes," came the response, unmistakably Laena's.

Armed with his goblet, Clement traversed the intervening space toward his study and eased the door open. Prepared to remark on the lateness of the hour, he instead beheld a scene unexpected. Rather than finding his wife doting upon their children, he found her accompanied by another, scarcely a woman at that—the Princess Rhaenyra. They stood before the mount that showcased his favored weapon, the Pincer.

"Princess?" Clement exclaimed, taken aback. "Forgive my surprise, I hadn't anticipated your presence, particularly at such a late hour."

"All is well, Ser," the princess reassured with composure. "It is I who should apologize for encroaching upon your private quarters."

"Well, my lady wife is in your company," Clement remarked with a genial smile, directing his gaze to Laena, positioned beside the princess.

"I was merely exhibiting to the princess your trophies from the Stepstones," Laena explained.

"I see," Clement murmured, setting his goblet upon the nearest surface. "You are most welcome to peruse them, princess. I confess, it may seem rather selfish of me to display them here rather than within the castle's hall."

The princess gestured toward the axe mounted upon the wall. "Is this not your ancestral Valyrian steel weapon, Ser? The one you wielded during the tourney years ago?"

"I am surprised that you still remember that week," Clement chuckled. "Indeed, that is 'The Pincer,' the ancestral weapon of House Celtigar."

"I have seen Valyrian steel swords and daggers," the princess remarked, her curiosity piqued. "My father possesses one, Blackfyre, alongside his favored cat's-paw dagger, which accompanies him everywhere. But an axe? It is a curious sight."

"I agree," Clement concurred. "One might deem it a waste. From blade to hilt, all components are forged of Valyrian steel. Ultimately, such weapons serve as potent symbols, albeit expensive ones. Effective in battle? Undoubtedly. But their true efficiency lies in their symbolism."

"I see," the princess remarked, comprehension dawning upon her, before gracefully exploring the room, admiring other trophies. "Please, ser, pay me no mind. Whatever inquiries you had for your wife earlier, you may now direct them to her."

Observing the princess's departure, Clement turned to Laena, who was discreetly observing the girl. "What of our children?" he inquired.

The lady rolled her eyes. "What do you speculate they're engaged in at this late hour, my love? Sleeping."

"The hour of the wolf draws near," Clement mused. "I assumed you had gone to bed."

"The princess sought company," Laena shrugged. "Forgive me for not seeking your consent prior."

Clement simply sighed. "It is of no consequence."

"And where were you?" Laena inquired.

"I sought my father," Clement responded. "He was in conversation with Lord Manderly in the crypts, hence I thought I should postpone our discussion until tomorrow. I met with them on the way here. Lord Manderly asked me to drink together, but I declined."

"The crypts?" Laena arched her brow.

"My, uh... mother's tomb, Lord Manderly's sister."

"Oh," Laena restrained her words. "I see..."

Suddenly, Clement overheard the princess posing another question. "And what is this, Ser? It bears an unfamiliar carving for a horn."

"Do not touch that, princess," Clement interjected sharply, causing her to flinch.

"I apologize," the princess stammered, stepping back from the horn.

Clement sighed with remorse. "No, I should apologize for my outburst. Might you care for a cup of wine?"

"No, I believe it's time for me to depart," the princess straightened her posture. "I have lingered in your chambers and intruded on your privacy long enough."

"You are welcome to stay as long as you desire, princess," Laena offered serenely.

"No, I must take my leave. Perhaps I could visit you on the morrow, Laena?" the princess inquired.

Laena nodded. "Certainly. Allow me to escort you to the door."

As the two women departed, Clement found himself once more ensconced in solitude, with only the gentle flicker of candles and the faint whisper of wind through the windows for company. In this fleeting moment, a wave of weariness washed over him, compelling the man to reach for the goblet he had brought earlier and drain its contents in a single gulp. Perhaps he had devoted too much thought to the upcoming tourneys in recent days, and now craved respite.

Taking a nearby seat and leaning back against it, Clement closed his eyes, massaging his temples before releasing a deep sigh. Barely a moment passed before the sound of the door opening drew his attention, and upon opening his eyes, he beheld Laena's entrance.

"Are you well?" she inquired. "I've instructed the guard to escort the princess to her chambers."

Clement offered a noncommittal hum in response, acknowledging Laena's update before addressing her query. "I am fine, my dear."

Laena seated herself beside her husband, confessing, "I attempted to glean from her the reason for the king's desire to speak privately with our fathers."

Clement chuckled softly. "Isn't it obvious?"

"I am no seer, husband," she retorted with a slight roll of her eyes. "Are you?"

"Of course not," Clement laughed. "The king seeks to mend relations between Targaryens and Velaryons. Having reconciled with his brother and honored my house, it remains only Corlys he has yet to appease."

"And what does the king intend to offer my father?" Laena inquired, arching a brow.

"You know what your father desires," Clement murmured, gently clasping Laena's hand.

Confusion clouded Laena's expression. "My father seeks a legacy. I fail to see the connection."

"Marriage, my dear," Clement explained, his touch tender. "Marriage."

"Marriage?" Laena echoed, surprise evident in her tone. "To my brother, the princess? I'm astonished the king would consider it, given my brother's—"

"I may not favor vegetables, but I eat it when served, at least that's what their thinking is." Clement interjected. "Likewise, it seems the small council may view this union as a necessary step."

Understanding dawned in Laena's eyes, though skepticism lingered. "And what of the private audience with your father? Will he grant your request?"

"Time will tell," Clement replied with a shrug. "I do not see dragon eggs arriving aboard the king's ship, but the outcome remains uncertain. We shall know in due course."

Suddenly rising, Clement pressed a soft kiss to Laena's forehead. "You need not concern yourself with the weight of politics. Simply revel in the festivities; leave the rest to me. After all, you've blessed me with a daughter."

Offering his hand to his wife, a weary smile graced Clement's lips. "Come, let us retire for the night."

Observing his gesture, Laena chuckled softly, shaking her head in amusement before accepting his hand, and together they made their way toward their chambers.