The Garden of the King
Posted on Mon Aug 30th, 2021 @ 2:49pm by King Aethan Velaryon & Ser Renn Baratheon
Edited on on Mon Aug 30th, 2021 @ 3:02pm
Mission:
The Iron Price
Location: The Red Keep
Timeline: Evening, 5th Day of the 12th Moon,404 AC
Having begun to settle into his new surroundings in the Red Keep, or as settled as one could be after a day, Aethan sent word to Ser Renn Baratheon to join him at the castle to celebrate. The pair hadn’t seen one another in a day or so and Aethan was eager to see his fawn.
The Red Keep offered more privacy for the two meant than Seasmoke Hold had. In addition, Stevron and Shireen had retired to the Velaryon manse. Aethan sent word via a member of his household guard, Tristor Celtigar, and had been waiting with bated breath for Renn’a response or his appearance.
*Thunk*
There was the slow sing of wood drawn across wood and then the stretched twang of bowstring.
*Thunk*
Renn Baratheon's mouth was a grim line of concentration while he drew the fletchings of his arrow to his cheek. He breathed out. He remembered the Braavosi tutor teaching him of the Dothraki way of archery- which was quite different than the Westerosi way. Renn's lean muscles strained at the longbow's pull and he loosed his third arrow.
*Thunk*
"Fuck..." He breathed out irritation, lowering his bow to rest a tip against the ground. He studied his target, a mute and visual testament to the ill-ease he was feeling. None had struck home as closely to center as he'd have preferred. They'd have left an animal- or a man- lame and likely dying. But they were not clean shots.
"Milord," a young voice said. behind him. The tall, lean one turned to an apple-faced boy with a black pageboy-like cut- save that his hair was so wavy and curly. "A dispatch from the Red Keep milord."
"Who, Fionn?" Renn asked. Gritted teeth bore as Renn pressed upon his bow and unlooped its cat gut string. The bow went slack. Renn took it up with a few careful winds of the string around itself. And he shouldered his quiver.
"A lord Celtigar?" The page said. Renn was vaguely familiar.
"I'll meet him in a moment. Go tell him." The page nodded, turned and bolted back the way he came. Renn was soon behind the youth, stepping into the manse's warm, humid silence. Brannis was likely feeling quite full of himself with his favorites. Renn did not wish to join them. He passed through to the opening yard to meet Celtigar. The exchange was brief: come to the Red Keep, if it please you. Renn sent word that he'd be there presently.
Renn secured his favorite mount and made way through the streets of King's Landing. The smallfolk were already making ready: the seahorse of Velaryon on banners were being hung or painted and from the brief snippets of conversation he picked up, Renn learned that already, the avant garde-leaning whores- and assuming the ladies too- were talking about bleaching their hair, "Of a Velaryon Pale." Renn shook his head at this. He arrived at the Red Keep.
He presented himself to the guards, "Ser Renn Baratheon. I am expected." But the Guards already seemed to well-know that as he was ushered inside the imposing fortress. It was not necessarily the largest or most ostentatious of fortresses and it felt odd to come to Aethan not at Seasmoke. This was a bastion of Kings, and the some of the walls of last resort in the event of a siege. Renn followed another page in silence. Renn gave no comment and the page asked no questions of why a younger son of a Lord would have any business whatsoever with a King, anointed or not.
The page knocked on the door and stepped back. Renn put his hands behind his back and smiled his modest smile.
"Come." Came the voice from within. Aethan had found his way to the Royal apartments and was making decisions about how he might live in the space, particularly once he was married. He knew that Ser Renn was going to be part of his life going forward, but it was still undetermined in what capacity that might be.
The Page entered and knelt with reverence, "Your Grace, Ser Renn Baratheon," he said in his high voice. Then he rose, head still bowed, and back-walked his way to the door. The long and lean body of Renn Baratheon stepped inside, clad in his somber blacks with touches of blue peeking through slashes and joints. Renn bowed gracefully, his eyes low and staring at Aethan's feet. "Your Grace," he rumbled.
The King waited for the door to close and latch completely. "My fawn." He said, his mouth growing into smile. "I'm so happy you came." Aethan sat at a table near an open window. "Join me?"
The gravity of their environment was hard to ignore. And in all frankness, it intimidated. But Renn rose beyond the intimidation. This was reality not fantasy. Aethan was a King to be. Westeros was his. He edged his own subtle smile and nodded at the Velaryon. He sat down at the table and peered out at the window. And it was so... metaphorical. The entirety of King's Landing was well under their noses. There were hints of its smell- the unwashed, yes. But also the heavy incenses of the Septs and the smell of cooking fires burning their fuel.
"How does it feel to wake up and realize you are living in a dream?" He asked with a glance at the young King, mood more contemplative than excited.
"Well you've said it, it really does feel like the most surreal of dreams." Aethan reached for a pitcher of wine and poured two glasses. "Only unlike my dreams I have a tremendous amount of work to do as well." He lifted a glass to his lips and took a long sip.
Renn nodded once, "You will need a strong Council. But not too strong," Renn mused with a weight on his shoulders. "Have you any idea who you wish to serve you?" He asked. For the moment Renn did not touch the wine.
"I believe that my council is decided. " Aethan reached for a parchment on the table. " Your Lord Grandfather, Lord Garth will serve as my Hand. I ask that Lord Jonah serve as Master of Coin. Lord Myles Lannister will serve as my Master of Laws." Aethan paused. "I asked that your brother serve as my Master of Ships, and that the Martell boy be my Master of Whisperers. As a consolation for my dear uncle, I've named him Lord Admiral. " Aethan sighed, hoping his decisions were right.
Renn nodded with a slow, taking it in air. It felt wrong to somehow countermand a King and his choice of Council. "It is good that you tried to include Dorne," he said simply. "And Riverrun." He raised a brow, "But not the Ironmen?"
"I was on that particular dilemma for some time." The young King admitted. "Though I couldn't find a suitable solution for what to do with them."
Renn smiled his small, reserved smile. "They are, at the best of times, hard to be around. At worst, one feels like they should be watched at all times." Renn finally went for his goblet. "I hope their Lady won't look at Dorne and Riverrun being awarded voices in the Council, while they get nothing for supporting our bloc."
"My uncle promised their independence from the throne." Aethan said solemnly. "And an Island in the Crownlands." He took a sip from his goblet. "Bloody idiot." He said, shallowly. "How can I renege on that kind of agreement without starting a war?"
Visibly, Renn winced- a rarity for him. "What... was he thinking? How could you honor that and not offend half the houses in Westeros? And give half of those the same idea..." Renn, troubled, sipped.
"I have no intention of honouring it, but how can I not without risking the safety of my people?" Aethan was clearly distressed at this problem.
"You cannot, My King," Renn said gently. "But if you wish a military perspective on the matter..."
"Please." Aethan was desperate for any opinion outside of his family.
Renn pursed his lips with a furrow of consideration. "The Ironborn are powerful on the sea. On land, they are fierce but individualistic. You said they wished an Isle in the Crownlands." Renn set his wine down. "Give it to them. It will buy time. Meanwhile send ravens to the Arbor," he gestured with a roll of long fingers, "Inform Your Hand, and put the Redwyne fleet into motion. I will raven my stepbrother to meet with my sister and organize the Baratheon fleet. Once the Ironborn have landed on their isle, use the Royal Fleet to blockade it. Send parlay to reiterate the Iron Islanders remain vassals of the King of Westeros. But let them keep their isle if they agree. If they refuse, they face the brunt of the Royal Fleet on their isle. Even if they set to sail and breakthrough they must contend with the Baratheon fleet. Meanwhile, Lord Redwyne and perhaps Lord Tully can move to pacify the waters of the Iron Islands." Renn sipped his wine again, "Lord Tully is an excellent warrior and I suspect he would enjoy putting the Ironborn in their place."
The King nodded. It was a plan indeed, but he feared that mobilizing fleets around the realm so early in his reign might send the wrong message to the people. "I shall have to raise the point with the Small Council, but it is a predicament I wish I didn't have so early in my reign."
Renn understood. "Some would-be ruler always challenges the new authority," he lamented.
Aethan shook his head. "Enough of the gloom of my early reign. How are the Baratheon's taking life under Velaryon rule?"
Renn smiled at that, "Ecstatic. Brannis is insufferable." Renn attested with amusement. "My mother is pleased but concerned... transfers of authority always send her into a tizz. With my father's illness lingering, that is paramount on her mind." Renn looked the Velaryon in his blue eyes. "Brien likely hasn't heard the news yet." His eyes tracked to Aethan's neck. "And I am pleased."
Aethan watched Renn closely. "Would it please you more to have a place in my Kingsguard?"
Renn tried to steel his countenance. But it was what he wanted. He nodded. "That would be ideal."
"You don't sound very excited?" Aethan said. "I admit the thought of you vowing to take no wife and father no children makes me quite happy."
Renn glanced at Aethan, sensing he was being teased. He was trying to school his face again, but he smiled into a cheek. "You're teasing me...." His green met Aethan's violets. "I was always built to serve, not to father children." He believed out loud. "And as Kingsguard I would have a reason to stay in King's Landing. One my brother couldn't counter." His finger brushed Aethan's wrist.
"And you would be by my side." Aethan offered. "Which I hope you wouldn't take exception too."
Renn nibbled a smile. "Well, there's a perk in the mix..." He said, touching Aethan's hand.
Aethan looked down at Renn's thin hand touching his. "Your uncle, Ser Colin, has also been named to my Kingsguard. So you'll be in good company." He took his Fawn's hand and held it tightly. "Tell me yes. Honour your King."
Renn smiled and gave Aethan's hand a squeeze. "Yes, it is an honor to serve my King." He said with rare bemusement.
Aethan smiled. There was something about getting his way that made him feel warm. "Be sure to see Ser Thommas, he'll see you're properly outfitted. " Aethan picked up his wine and took a shallow sip."Tell me, have you ever spent the night in the Red Keep?"
Renn looked at the overarching buttresses. "I have not." He said with a tickle of a smile. "How is it so far?"
"I've spent the entire day here and I think I've only seen six or seven rooms." Aethan admitted, putting his goblet to his lips. "And the gardens."
Renn nodded once, "I'd like to take a trip into your gardens," Renn played with a glance over his own wine cup.
Aethan smiled. "Why don't you?"
Renn raised his chin a little, "Well, I believe I need consent, My King. It is your garden."
Aethan's smile grew. "You have it." He spoke earnestly. "Perhaps we can make something of this night."
Renn agreed with a slow nod, his green Baratheon eyes on the lilac across from him. "It would please me, if it pleases you, My King."
Extending his hand to Renn, Aethan smirked.
Renn took Aethan's hand and lifted up. And with rise of his hand, he indicated for the King to follow.
Aethan took a final sip from his wine and got up to follow Renn. "And where are you leading your King, Ser Renn?"
The Baratheon, looked back at the King in the evening light. His black hair had a glossy reflection and the setting sun cast over the shape of his face. His fingers tugged to bring the King closer. And when Aethan was in his arms, Renn hovered lips near Aethan's. His hands passed over the King's hips and- for the first time- he used them to cup and lift Velaryon cheeks to bring Aethan flush against him.
Aethan vibrated at the touch of Renn's hands. He licked his lips and leaned in to press his lips to those of his fawn.
Renn smiled a small, melancholic smile and felt a moment of comfort. They were always fleeting moments but he embraced this one with conscious awareness. "To bed, My King," he finally answered softly. "By way of your garden." The knight picked up the thin man and carried him into his bed chambers. He laid him out on it's mattress and, standing before him, he undid the strings of his shirt.
