GOT : All Left Behind

"Help will only come if you request it."​

Braxton Beesbury was many things. A fine knight. A good man. A man who was secure enough in his view of himself to take a jest and join in on the fun. A man who was willing to learn and better himself.

But all that which gave the heir to a less than a significant lordship in the heart of the Reach the dignity and grace that had made him deserving of soon being called my brother was little more than a memory when we landed at the Red Keep.

After no small amount of coaxing, the great black dragon had finally managed to alight in the training yard, holding still and ceasing his fidgeting just long enough for me to undo the chain that kept us safe.

I managed to dismount easily, managing to stay on my feet with tenacity if not with grace. Even with a few years of experience, it was still quite the drop that rattled my teeth on impact. At least in Dorne, the hellish sandy parts of it, the ground was soft.

Braxton, by contrast, all but collapsed onto the hard-packed ground. Certainly would have collapsed, had I not managed to catch him. Even fully armored, it was an easy task. Though Braxton was a large man himself, I was larger. And had been expecting this kind of trouble.

Whatever words I would have spoken next were drowned out by the Cannibal taking flight, forcing me to wait a little while longer. The dirt ground was packed hard from decades of foot traffic, sparing me the fate of being peppered by little bits of earth. Once the tempest of takeoff subsided, I was able to pay a bit more attention to my charge.

"Come now, Braxton," I said lightly, a smile coloring my words as the man seemingly tried to go limp even as I held him up. "My newborn nephews complained less after their first flights."

Then again, they had not yet been able to talk. Or had any experience of life to know what was happening to them.

"Vaegon, my friend, please…" he said with all the dignity a grown man could muster. "It has been so long, please… oh, solid ground! I have nearly forgotten what it feels like!"

"The sands of Dorne have left you mad," I commented, but assenting to the man's wishes. With a gentle clatter, he came to rest upon the hard-packed ground. Face-first. But he quickly rolled on his back, clearly remembering where the newborn dragons' latrine had been. And some of the larger dragons, for that matter.

"I never actually got to see the desert," he commented idly. "His Grace kept us to the Shadowtown and then on the banks of the Greenblood. Not a single grain of sand to be seen, only dirt, clay, and about a hundred different grasses."

"Then why are you still down there?"

"Because I know we both need a moment to not be so serious," he said. "And what better place to not be serious than the place where little dragons are taken to shit?"

That brought a smile to my face.

Then a chuckle.

"Finally," Braxton said encouragingly, bringing himself up into a seated position. "Laughter. A moment of levity, none of the pressures of war."

"That did not count," I said, quickly forcing the amusement down. Or trying to, at least. "A chuckle, not a proper laugh."

"Excuses, excuses," Braxton dismissed my objections. He paused, briefly, looking around the training yard that the Cannibal had so swiftly vacated. "This won't be easy."

"What won't be?" I asked, confused at the sudden turn the conversation had taken.

"The wedding," he said. "She always wanted it to be perfect, the most glamorous of all the royal weddings. Now… it's going to take a lot of work just to match the last one."

"It is hardly ideal," I agreed, finally taking off my own helmet. With the dragon, and the infernal heat he radiated from every last scale of his being, having departed, I could actually enjoy the cool afternoon air. Cool compared to Dorne, at least. It was still warm, but in contrast to the brutal heat of the desert, it was as sweet as dunking one's head in a cold pool of water. But blessedly less wet. "We are still at war. A war that killed Baelon. And the last wedding was earlier this year. Those details will dampen things somewhat."

"An understatement," he muttered, letting out a sigh so deep he must have held in since he had left for Dorne. "Do you think it's even possible?"

"Not without difficulty," I observed. "And since we are not the ones organizing the wedding, there is little we can do."

That was work for my parents, which was hardly a recipe for success. Father was not in the right state of mind to plan a wedding. He was probably still consumed by the war. Even this wedding would no doubt just be used to plan the next phase of his master strategy.

"Little I can do," he corrected. "You still have that mountain of treasure you are hoarding. I am certain you can find no shortage of entertainers and ideas to make this a memorable occasion. Mayhaps an actual fountain of wine?"

And Mother? Even if she had recovered from Baelon's death, she would still be the one doing most of the work. Far more work than for previous weddings, especially since half of the Small Council was occupied by war-making.

"And you are my sister's betrothed," I reminded him. "It will be up to you to make her feel as important as she is."

No, this wedding would need an extra pair of hands. Or six.

Luckily, I had known this might be an issue and had prepared accordingly. "On your feet. We have work to do," I said, extending a hand toward the man on the ground.

"You have a plan?" he asked, but still took the hand and let himself be hauled to his feet. "Or is it a scheme?"

"You make it sound ominous," I said and set off for the interior of the Red Keep. The sun was still high in the sky, the pale red stone vibrant in the light. Vibrant enough that it was too early in the day for Father's advisors to have stopped working. "We shall simply be offering our help in planning the wedding."

"Help?"

"Yes, help," I repeated, leading Braxton to one of the corners of the Red Keep. One of the corners hosting a rather large spiraling staircase all the up a very certain tower. "That labor which pleases The Maiden, The Mother, and The Smith at once."

"Fair enough," he said. "Dare I ask how you intend to do that?"

"Simply enough," I said, pausing as we arrived at the desired staircase. Although, judging by the absence of the most important participant, we were a bit early. No matter, that just meant I could spend some halfway private time with a friend. "We ask."

"Who?" he asked, only for his eyes to widen in realization. "And why do you keep saying we?"

"Barth will know, presumably," I said. "He will likely point us towards my mother. And given how arranging a wedding is no small task, we may be doing a lot of it."

"Care to say what you mean by we?" he asked. "I am willing to help, I really am. I would fight at your side in battle, would guard your family with my life, but planning a wedding? That is just not something I know how to do."

"Which is why I have arranged for some help." Just as soon as she got here. And assuming the Raven from occupied Sunspear could outspeed a dragon.

"You arranged for someone to help us help someone else?" Braxton asked, clearly not understanding how intermediaries worked. And also several of my enterprises. "That is a new one."

"You want Vaegon to act without consulting anybody else?" a new voice asked, melodious to the ears and revitalizing to the heart. For me, at least. And why should it not, when the voice belonged to my wife? "You are a braver man than most, Ser Braxton."

With a serene smile on her face, Maegelle Targaryen was there to join us.

"Oh no, even worse," I said. "How long do you think I have been teaching Braxton? It would be like having another of me to confirm all my decisions."

"You have been teaching our siblings for even longer," Maegelle pointed out, her smile growing sly. "And may the Seven be praised, The Crone raises her lamp for all of them."

"So now I act rashly, yet instill wisdom in others?" I asked. "Does that make me wiser for helping others become better than myself or more foolish for disregarding my own lessons? "

"Yes."

It was good to be home again.

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