The Blackwood Manse

The servant led the way to the manse. "Here it is, m'lady. The staff is already in residence." Guards stood posted close by to guard the manse from would-be looters. It was, also, a reminder that Vira's future husband was the son of the late Aenar Targaryen.

Maekar carefully helpd Vira down from her horse, his hand lingering on the bump at her midsection as he gently set her on the ground. He smiled down at her as they approached the steward, and allowed her to take the lead; this was to be her house after all.

It certainly did not seem a small staff to Vira, who had grown up with the men and women who became maids and manservants in great homes. It was strange to think that she'd have her own staff, and Vira had a sudden moment of anxiety that some of them might be her old friends, or kin of people she knew. How mortifying if they recognized her! But no - why should it be mortifying? she reasoned. My old friends already work for me, and if my new servants have any connection to my old life, that can only be a good thing. She resolved to be a kindly mistress, one who would never make the mistakes that had often made Vira's friends grumble and complain when they came home to Lower Crinkley for holidays and village festivals.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Vira asked Maekar, as they followed the king's steward through the black gates. She had her arm linked through Maekar's. Walking was oddly more comfortable than riding. Vira wore a gown of extremely soft and fine blue wool, richly embroidered at the collar and sleeves.

"You're going to spoil me rotten if you keep this up," she laughed, as they entered the house. It was still in the process of being furnished, with two days to go to Vira and Rhaegar's wedding. "You should visit often. I plan to tell my lord husband what the nature of our marriage shall be."

Though Vira had a suspicion that him calling her "Lady Targaryen" was the wrong form of address, she was pleased by it. She kissed him playfully and pushed him into a wooden chair upholstered in leather, with dragons as its armrests. "Well, Lord Rhaegar might be a very sweet, gentle, kind and nice man, and if he is, I wouldn't want to shame or insult him too much," she said, kissing Maekar. "But I will bring you here, perhaps, when he is not at home."

"Don't be cruel," Vira giggled. "Maybe he has friends to visit, or a nice mistress of his own?"    

Vira read the skepticism on his face and chuckled. She was inclined to think quite kindly of Rhaegar herself, having had no cause to feel unfriendly towards him yet. And besides, it was always better to have an amiable farce of a marriage than an unpleasant, unfriendly one. Vira did not doubt that Rhaegar likely had his own women, and felt sure she could get along with him well. She got along with everyone.

Vira stroked Maekar's hair. "In my village, we always thought a new home needed a blessing," she said with a sly smile. "And the most auspicious blessing comes from a man's loins."

///

After her trip to the riverlands, Vira returned to King's Landing and stabled Aegerys at the Dragonpit. She almost rode a horse to her manse, but remembered her promise to Ser Axell and ordered a sedan chair, citing her frail condition. Vira had sent word to Ser Axell that he would be free to join her in King's Landing, but she had not flown him back with her. It would likely be some weeks before he could ride back to the city.

When her sedan chair deposited her outside her manse, Vira gave herself over to the attentions of her handmaid Yara, and retired gratefully inside her house.

After a while, a grey-haired man in a bloodstained apron showed up. He nodded politely to Vira and set his bag of implements on the ground. It clinked ominously.

"Sit down and open your mouth," he said, very brusquely.

"The tooth is too big for your mouth," he said. "We get extra teeth when we reach your age, my lady, but you have a small jaw and your mouth cannot bear it. A growing tooth is often painful, and especially now, when you do not have room for it to grow properly. It must come out."

"The pain will grow much worse," he said. "It may affect your ability to eat and will certainly make you uncomfortable. I would not recommend leaving the tooth in. Strongwine will dull the pain in the meantime. Fetch me a glass."

He took a small bottle out of his bag. "There will be pain, I'm afraid, but it can't be helped."

He strapped her in as requested. "Try to move your arms," he instructed. "I want to be sure you can't move too much. I've had patients thrash about before, if they're not restrained. They can cause themselves more pain than they need to."

He turned to Yara. "Boil a pan of water water, girl, and a small one of wine."

Yara hurried to obey.