I: The Prince of Summer and the Maid of Quills

ACT WELL YOUR PART, THERE ALL THE HONOUR LIES

I: THE PRINCE OF SUMMER AND THE MAID OF QUILLS

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Aerys was to marry, and to a girl he had never seen once in his life. He knew of her, but not her. He knew that if the world had proceeded as it should have proceeded, if Aerys was the same Aerys that should have been, possessed of a different soul - that the marriage of Aelinor Penrose to Aerys, son of Daeron would be a miserable one.

It was written in the words of the one that had made this world that Aerys Targaryen was so bookish a man, that he shunned even his wife's bed, absorbed by dusty scrolls and ancient prophecies under the light of a candle, deep in the night.

But he was not that Aerys, for whatever force had brought him here years ago had left him his soul, but encased him into another prison of flesh and blood and bone. So, even if he knew her not, he doubted he could be a worse husband to her even if he tried.

She was to arrive today, from the castle of Parchments in the Stormlands, where she had lived all her years, even if her father, her stepmother, and her half-siblings had been long settled at court.

But she would not arrive until the afternoon, and they were to be presented to each other before the evening feast. And now it was morning, and there were hours still before that came to be.

He had thought to spend his idle hours in the library, with the scrolls and books that were so familiar with him. And he had wasted mayhap an hour in this delectable pursuit, when he was summoned to his father's solar. He did not particularly wish to attend his father, but it was always better than mother's summons.

So he took the ancient scroll that was laid out on the table, which he had barely started reading, written in High Valyrian about dragons returning and promised princes, stuffed it in his coat, and rose to obey his father's orders. It was one he had sought for some time, in the Red Keep's library and in Dragonstone, and he had found it.

His father was sat at his ornate desk in the king's solar and he looked up at him with a kindly face:

"Sit down, Aerys. As you well know, today you shall meet your bride before court."

"I am well aware of it, Your Grace." answered Aerys. "Or has my father, the king, forgotten he told me of this more than a few moons ago?"

King Daeron sighed, exasperation evident on his face: "That's what I wished to discuss with you. I'll have none of your sharp tongue today. When you shall meet your future bride, you shall be all courtesy. None of your witty words or your cruelties, not with her, and not at the feast. You need to make a fine impression before the realm for your a prince, and a son of the king."

Aerys laughed: "There's no need to worry about this, father. After all, there's nothing Dornish about cousin Aelinor."

The king banged his fist on the table, and yelled at him: "That is precisely the kind of talk I do not wish to hear, not today of all days, and nor from this day hence, if you can help yourself."

"Do you know that your mother had tried even yesterday to convince me that you'd be better suited for the Citadel than a life as a prince? That you'd be happier as a future Archmaester of History than with life at court?"

He had another jest at the ready, but he knew when he had pushed his father's buttons too far, so he kept it for himself. But his mother's intention were most abhorrent to him, and he would not be silent about that:

"Mother might look and see me bookish, and while I love to learn of what I know not, I loath to teach another. The links of the Citadel are a chain that will imprison me, and that is not a prison I will ever seek willingly."

His father chuckled, despite the seriousness of the discussion: "Fear not, I will not order you to become a maester. But you're soon to be a man wed, so you must act like one. I've had Summerhall built in the Dornish Marches, to bridge the divide between Dorne and my subjects. I mean to name you Prince of Summerhall and I need a man to rule it, not a boy who can't seem to keep his disdain for all things Dornish silent. Do you understand?"

"You know well that my disdain is not unreasonable. I just think that you have too many Dornish at court and you're making too many concessions to uncle Maron…"

His father interrupted him: "I've heard your arguments a hundred times. I would not hear them again. It is I that am king, and you are not even my heir. The gods require a son to obey his father, so heed my words and theirs, boy. You are dismissed."

Aerys saw the futility of another argument, so he turned to leave, though not before he took that old scroll he hid before and threw it in the hearth in the room, watching it dissolve into embers. He knew what it said, that it spoke of dragons returning and promised of princes born amidst salt and smoke.

For all it pained him to burn ancient knowledge, he had also future knowledge - and knew of Targaryens that tried and failed to bring into truth these prophecies, obsessed over it. It was better for this knowledge to burn, to perish with him than to bring his house to destruction if it pursues in vain this road. After all, if this is the decree of fate, it shall find a way to make it true, even if man knows not of it. If it was not a self fulfilled prophecy, it did not need a man to make it true.

He left after it had burned, though his father was curious about it:

"What did you throw in the heart, Aerys?"

"Nothing important. Just a parchment where some fool counselled others towards folly."

"It is a good thing you burned it then. It is time to abandon your follies."

Aerys would have laughed out loud at his father's ignorance, but that would ignite his father's curiosity once more. So he left.

Cousin Aelinor had arrived at last, in the company of her grandfather, the old lord Erich Penrose. She had rather the look of a Targaryen, with silver-gold hair and purple eyes, inherited from her mother and from her grandmother Rhaena, the daughter of the Rogue Prince.

She was beautiful, though he was not such a great beauty that the realm entire would sing songs and tell tales about it. But he could not fault her for that - he himself was spindly, with a long and thin face - hardly a maiden's dream. She looked shy and unassuming, and he would call her pretty or cute rather than stunning - which more than suited him, as he found this kind of beauty more approachable. Though he hoped the exterior did not hide an entirely different character.

He did as he was expected of him, and came forward to kiss his cousin's hand and exchanged greetings, he more bold, she mumbling.

Lord Penrose spoke: "Let's leave the young ones to know each other before the feast, shall we not? I myself am most tired from the road and in need of refreshments."

So it was this how they came to be in the godswood, their chaperones a fair distance away. They were to know each other but neither were eager to start a conversation. Aerys would have rather just look at her, but that would gotten awkward fast, so he tried to start the conversation, but he could not, for she spoke before him:

"Do you find me pleasing, cousin? Or I am less beautiful than others you have… known?"

Aerys was startled: "Others I have known? I assure you, my lady, that I am not that kind of man."

"Oh!" she exclaimed. " I assumed, that being half-Dornish, the Dornish being how they are, that you would have kept a paramour. I am glad to know I am wrong."

He laughed, and would have laughed even more, were it not for the expression on his betrothed's face. He was quick to assuage her though:

"I do not laugh at you, milady. But it is amusing that you would conceive of me so Dornish of morals, when all at court know that I shun most things Dornish. It is true that the gods have cruelly cursed me to be born half-Dornish, but I have done my best to spite them every day of my life and prove that there's nothing Dornish of my mind and soul, only of my flesh."

"But let's not speak of such things, now that we have cleared away such misconceptions. I assure you, my lady, that I find you most pleasing. The question is now, if you find me so?"

Aelinor tried to find the right words that were expected of a maiden and meekly spoke: " I do indeed cousin. You look most knightly."

Aerys laughed again, though he spoke quickly, as to not bring dismay again to her face: "I am afraid, cousin, that I am not much of a warrior. I have always preferred books to a blade, and I am to be found more often in the library than in the training yard."

Aelinor laughed, for the first time since they started talking: "I had feared that you would find such things boring. I am myself more fond of the library than the training yard, though this is not so hard to do for a lady."

"Can you tell me what kind of books there are in it? Parchments has a very good library, though maybe not as great as that of the Red Keep, for we have always been a house dedicated to such pursuits - as our name, and sigil, and castle, and words betray. But I can hardly find any books about the flora of the rests of the kingdoms, for our past maesters have only written about the flowers of the Stormlands, and not much about that of the other realms."

It seemed she was closer in character and pursuits to him than Aerys had dared to hope, though she was more inclined towards botany than his studies of history. But botany was not at the level of a science that his previous world's biology was, so Aerys could still find it interesting beyond the boring technical stuff of modern science.

So he gladly and quickly stepped up to her aid: "Do you prefer to gather some of the flowers of the Crownlands from the gardens first and then try to look them up? But I must admit I'm hardly familiar with the flowers specific to this kingdom, so maybe we should get a book first, and then try to identify the flowers?"

Aelinor scratched her head, then suggested: "Maybe we should get the flowers first, and ask the gardeners their names, and then we can find them in the books?

Aerys had a sudden burst of inspiration: "Did you know that in a faraway kingdom, the learned men have made a language of flowers?"

As they went through the gardens, Aerys picked all sorts of flowers and explained them to his betrothed: "This one is supposed to mean love… and that one beauty… and that other one devotion… this one means a happy marriage…"

In the middle of it, he realised that the first meanings that came to him were rather romantic in nature, but he could not be bothered to care. But he thought that their chaperones seeing him hand a bunch of flowers to Aelinor might consider he was trying too hard to win her affections.

When the time for the feast came, the servants who came to summon them found them in the library, engrossed into an old and heavy tome of botany.