First Day of the Second Month, 113 AC.
Once more I greeted the dirt with my face.
Hello ground my old friend.
"I would once more remind you that you are too young for this," Ser Bulwer said as he rested his wooden sword on a broad shoulder. Striped to the waist, the Bulwer sigil fit the man perfectly. Broad, barrel-chested and positively rippling with muscle.
One would think that such a large man would be slow.
I had learned to my great pain that such was a mistaken assumption.
I groaned as I pulled myself up, "As I have said before, I only have a year before the king or mother might decide that they are going to make me squire for someone."
"The objective of which is to train you," Bulwer noted.
"Which will do me little good if I end up getting my rear handed to me, you all know I have no potential," Over six months of training proved that I lacked anything resembling competence or even a great deal of potential with weapons.
But that was not really an option on Westeros, hence the training.
The bull grunted as he scratched his head with his spare hand, for some reason he had been going with a shaved head for a while now before sighing.
"It is far too early to tell," he repeated with the tired enthusiasm of someone who had been having the exact same argument daily. "Your mind can be as developed as you wish but as you are now the only thing this exercise is developing is bruises."
"Sage council as usual," I said dryly. "Now, again."
"As you say," he responded.
After more than two years stuck together every waking moment, we had developed an understanding. I let him voice his opinions and he accepted that it was better to mitigate the potential damage of my plans rather than to try to forbid them. I might never like the man but damned if he was not the closest thing to reliable that I had after Nessa and Clearsky.
I had come to trust some of my staff and guards to a very limited degree. Mostly those who were more honest and passed my little tests of loyalty without being purged. I was more sure of the staff than of the guards for the large part.
Of the nine guards, I only trusted four enough to prioritize my rear in a fight and half of that number with anything near my actual safety
Those two of them were watching our practice from either side of their other charge. The younger of the two, a dashing Westerlander named Omeld was idly scratching the dragon's chin, idly unconcerned with the rows of razor teeth facing him. I tended to get rid of those that did not get over their fear of Sky within a month (I lost track of how many around the tenth servant and thirtieth guard).
Said oversized garburator seemed quite content to curl up between the armored knights and taking in the sun while watching me get pummeled silly. Although she was still a few years away from being a suitable riding size, she was already the size of a small pony.
The staff moved about the courtyard completely unbothered by her presence, my training had worked rather well I dare say. While she was not quite as tame as Qelos was in my dreams and would probably not be for years yet, she was already far more peaceable in some respects than the other dragons of the city. I could not quite say how much of that was due to her own nature, my efforts or any magic that might been entailed in those rituals but the results had borne out well.
What I could take credit for was her disdain for the taste of burning pig (and presumably man), she could not stand it to the degree that the most aggressive I had seen her was during the last steps of the conditioning.
I could hardly fault the amusement that I sensed from her given the method I had used as an alternative to whips. It was in my opinion less of a directly cruel method than whips but perhaps I could have been kinder with the dosage of the laxatives. To be fair it was hardly my fault that I could not tell how much I could load a pig with before it became excessive, hell I was not even sure if it would work. Obviously training her to do her business at the stables came next.
In retrospect, I got a touch lost in reminiscing because I was disarmed mid-swing and knocked back down.
Ser Bulwer let a deep breath out of his wide nose and I heard him murmur, "Not how I envisioned my knighthood going."
I grunted as I pulled myself back up, "Your point is made for the day I would say, Ebermen. Let's get my lessons done with, east something and we then can wash up."
"As you say," the bull snorted with annoyance. He had a great deal of things to say about my bathing twice a day in scalding water, most were not positive.
He was even less happy that at my insistence on his joining me, it had required a profoundly graphic explanation of the many reasons what 'the Valyrians' had discovered were the detriments of not bathing daily to convince the knight to embrace proper hygiene.
I wish I could say that it was for some kind or noble reason, but it was mostly because I could not stand being followed by a pillar of armored sweat for the bulk of my day. The idea that the water had to be extremely warm was mostly because I did not trust westerosi water unless it was purged of bacteria with dragonfire, although I would not deny that it was hilarious to see the large knight curse under his breath at the feel of the burning liquid.
Amusingly enough Alicent and Rhaenyra had caught on to the notion as well, instantly making bathing in scalding water in something of a trend in court.
I was told that the tub business was booming, had to say that I was not expecting that of all things to be my first contribution to Westeros but all things considered it was not too bad. It actually gave me the idea to prepare a book on cleanliness rooted in 'Valyrian knowledge'. It would give me an excuse to dry run the set of ink blocks I had made, still working on an actual press and I trusted Melos as far as I could throw him.
Which led amusingly enough to what I meant when I said 'lessons'.
…
"-Balerion, the One-Whose-Wings-Are-Forward. Syrax, the Ever-Kindling-Spark. Asavhar, the Doom-Drum. Virturion, the Storm-Which-Shapes. Giserex, That-Which-Binds-Corners. Vhagar…." I stopped, pressing my lips tight as I tried to remember the last of the Fourteen titles.
"The Life-Furnace, My Prince," Nessa smiled encouragingly. "You almost had them all."
I muttered something unpleasant under my breath before leaning out over the stone railing of the balcony.
Morros was a horrible teacher. The man was actually gifted in some fields but he actually worse at teaching those, he was terrible at explaining advanced subjects and never had the patience to go into detail. Other subjects he either cut out of my curriculum (largely ancient history) or minimized to the point that any primer would be an infinitely better instructor.
So, I took matters into my own hands.
"My Prince," My Wetnurse-Then-Nanny-Then-Governess smiled brightly as she looked up from the tome. "Thirteen out of Fourteen is two and ninety percent according to the tables, that is not so bad."
She is worse than mother sometimes, I shook my head. "I wrote a book on this, literally, I should not be making such a trivial mistake."
Ebermen snorted from where he leaned across from our small table, idly thumbing through a small tome in one hand while his other rested on the hilt of his dirk.
The girl gave him a dry look before smiling back at me and patting my head, "I am no learned woman, your grace. But Runciter always said that you liked customs, I do not think he ever taught you much theo-" she hesitated with the word frowning and mouthing it a few times before speaking again. "He never taught you theology, did he?"
"I should still know better," I grumbled while scratching Sky behind the ridge of her rightmost horns.
"I am sure you will," She nodded encouragingly.
Nessa had become something akin to a second mother for me, strange to admit since the girl was only twenty-three but she was also a surprisingly good teacher. It had amused Runciter to teach the girl to read and I knew for a fact that she obsessively committed every book in my collection to memory before our lessons.
I could not help but wonder whether she felt she owed it the old maester, to me or to the King.
She owed him the most after all, Nessa was as low as a noble could be and something of an orphan on top. It had only been due to Viserys having fond memories of her father that she was allowed even the dubious post of royal wet-nurse and later my own insistence that kept her in my own employ.
Anyone else would have set off every warning in my head with a background like that.
But not Nessa. I blamed my body in part, for better or worse I had imprinted on her like a damned baby duck and she had never once spoken a single word of my activities to anyone. She even lied about how I spent my coin.
So, I trusted her.
I did plan to reward her once I had some autonomy and found a bride. I would find her a good knight, some land and even one of my guard to ensure said knight always knew that the castrating butter-knife was never more than a few footsteps away.
"And now on to mathematics," She smiled eagerly as we moved on to her favorite subject.
Which also happened to be my worst nightmare.
That the dragon and the bull were quietly snickering at my quiet dread did little to help.
…
Eventually we finished with my efforts at medieval cram school for the day and I followed with my guards and
As we walked through the halls we ran into a gold cloak that had my particular attention in the same way that cats had a rat's.
"Good day, my Prince Gaemon!" The man towered an inch or two over the already massive Bulwer and was built like a brick wall. Harwin Strong had short cropped brown hair, happy hazel eyes and a cocky sort of handsomeness to him which instantly made me feel a bit of pity for any girl gullible enough to trust him.
I imagined that he had a lot in common with King Robert during his good years, especially the part where he almost literally screwed the Realm. He was a likable sort but also the kind of man who had no business lusting after my sister.
"Ser Harwin," I nodded politely. Behind me I could all but sense my annoyance resonating with my dragon and my shield.
"How does the day see you and your shield?" He was gregarious enough but I really wished that he would keep himself away from me and my sister, even if neither seemed particularly likely.
"Fine," I did not often hope that I creeped people out but I made an exception for the heir of Harrenhal.
I did not like any of the Strong's truth be told. The entire house had an annoying tendency of behaving in less than ideal way. The daughter's in Rhaenyra's company were utterly terrified of dragons and bought into the less charitable rumors about me like addled fools, the younger son asked about me if Mushroom could be trusted and was prone to picking up on things entirely too frequently. The worst one was the father, the Lord Hand kept a closer eye on me than most of the court and every now and then he had the annoying tendency of asking questions, trying to cut my stipend or to try and interrogate my staff.
Honestly, the annoying man before me was the least irksome member of an irksome house.
"And you, Ser Ebermen?" He ignored the obvious curtness in my tone and my nonplussed expression.
Ebermen however sensed my mood as well as he usually did, "Perfectly well Ser Harwin but I do apologize, we are in something of a hurry."
"Oh?" Please go away, "Has something happened?"
It would not be your business if it were. I often found myself noting that while 'Breakbones' was renowned for his strength, I had seen him fight often enough to know that he was not a horribly skilled man. In fact, after I had begun my training I had come to slowly realize that a surprising number of the knight's at court were subpar warriors with sloppy technique.
The wonders of nepotism.
"Nothing of the sort, the young prince is eager to bathe after another day," Bulwer answered curtly. I envied that the man had a near permanent scowl etched into his hard features, it gave him a great poker face. That Omeld and Hubert the Westerlander (I had two Huberts in my guard oddly enough) moved closer to his flanks probably helped with the intimidation factor.
"Ah! Yes, I am quite eager to go take my own bath today," the weirdest thing about the ripple is that quite a few nobles had taken the up the habit of mentioning their desire for or frequency of bathing as the newest dimension of dick-measuring in the court. Amusingly enough, I could smell that this was not one of the cases where they actually followed through with their claims.
"Then we should not keep you," I nodded politely before continuing on my way. I wished that he was an exception, but ever since men started going after Rhaenyra like dogs after a bitch in heat, they had concluded that being close to her favorite brother was a good way to win points with her.
Joy of joys.
Not that being her favorite brother was difficult, she and Aeg got along like an Aquaphobic cat and artic water and she rarely gave my younger siblings the time of day.
Well, that was not completely true. Helaena was more a squirrel than a dragon and anyone that could be bothered to pick her up seemed to instantly garner the girl's puppy-love and Rhaenyra seemed exceptionally bad at resisting that sort of affection. Although it was somewhat stymied by Aeg being loathe to let his younger sister out of his sight.
In retrospect, I should have at least tried to get them to cooperate better but you know what they say about spilled milk, I would not have wanted to risk their opinion of me at any rate.
I entered my apartments with a deep and happy sigh, it had been a half a year since I gained apartments of my own and I had finally got them to my liking. Namely in that they resembled an eldritch maze of scattered books, notes and half-finished ideas that would not make a lick of sense to anyone in Westeros. It suited my tastes to keep things in line with my admittedly odd sense of organization, the stacks were straight, the notes sorted by date and concept and most of all my neatly made bed.
It was the closest thing to home that I had felt since arriving in Westeros.
As was my custom, I stripped off my training gear before heading towards the room I had insisted be specifically set aside for bathing, my schedule was like clockwork so the servants had already filled it with sufficiently scalding water and bathing salts. It was no shower but it was still heaven to get in there and wash away at least some of the manifold breeds of homicidal bacteria that riddled Westeros. Sky curled up in her corner of the room as was her custom, at the rate she was growing doors were already proving an issue. I would need to remedy that sooner rather than later. Later. Moving from my tub seemed like the worst sort of crime at the moment.
I got so entranced by the warmth that I did not notice the noise beyond the door until Rhaenyra, Criston 'not dead yet' Cole, and some of her ladies barged while Bulwer shouted, "He asked not to be disturbed!"
"This is madness!" She hissed as she entered only to find me with my eyes shut wide open and trying to preserve my dignity, before she and he five-woman entourage had the decency to look embarrassed. Sky made a croaking sound from her corner that sounded an awful lot like a chuckle.
"I am sure it is, Rhae," It took a herculean effort to force a smile. "Almost as mad as intruding on man when he is bathing, I would be quite eager to hear of your circumstances after I had made myself decent. Ser Bulwer?"
"Yes, prince?" The Bull looked annoyed as only trespassing on his jurisdiction could make him.
"Could you please have someone take my dear sister and her fellows to the sitting room?"
Was I not even allowed my dignity?
…
"So," I asked sitting in one the chairs of the sitting room allotted to my apartment. My hair was still damp and unbrushed which did not improve my mood. "Madness?"
I glared at the party of six, they technically outnumbered me but between my dragon, my bull and the three guards… well, it certainly did not have me feeling in a weaker position.
Rhaenyra cleared her throat, "Father has decided I should marry."
That explains it, her nameday is a few weeks away, it would certainly explain the influx of vultu-knights, I corrected myself, lords and knights with pointy Pieces of metal. Far more dangerous than mere vultures.
"It is his prerogative," I answered. I raise my hand quickly as I see her features begin to redden. "Do not mistake my stating a fact for agreement, he will do the same to me and the others."
I only did it in private but I knew it stroked her ego when I associated myself as her brother and distanced myself from my full-blooded siblings. I did the same with Aeg, gods I hated family politics.
What irked me the most was that no one seemed to understand what privacy was.
Viserys was always with guests or his council. Mother and her entourage. Aeg, Aem and Hel had started amassing other children and Rhaenyra with her 'companions'.
Said companions were the Lord Commander, who apparently thought stalking the princess was somehow more important than commanding. The two Strong girls who were so lanky and short that I was not sure where they got their genetics from. The homely Darklyn, the quiet Stokeworth and the daughter of some minor knight whose house I could never be bothered to recall.
Granted…
Nessa, Omeld, Hubert the Westerlander, Hubert the Reachman, Lambert, Edric, Floryn, Ashur, Milton… I idly counted the members of my staff and guard who were always somewhere near me. To say nothing of the dragon and Shield who literally never left my side…
Alright, I conceded. Maybe I am not one to talk about privacy, but at least I can trust them not to blab damn it!
"It is unjust!" She scowled, oblivious to my mental debate.
I raised a brow, "If you recall our lessons sister then you know well enough that you will have to do a number of unjust things when you sit the throne."
She snorted to that.
"As for me, I will be lucky if I get anything resembling a good match. Royal or not, a third son with no prospects is not exactly going to get a number of offers," That was a bold-faced lie but I needed to make it clear that I was on her side.
Heck, a fifth prince would still make most lesser houses positively cream themselves in anticipation but my actual plans depended on if I could get that steel right. If I could, then I could probably score a much better match on my terms.
"Do not fear brother, when I sit the throne I will make sure that you have land and title," She smiled and winked. "I will even make sure to find you a fair girl."
I snorted, Mom had said much the same thing about when Aeg took the throne. "I looked forward to the day, but surely this cannot be what so upset you. We were born to this fate."
"It is less a matter of what needs be done as much as who he desires for me," she frowned and resisted the urge to chuckle at the pouting princess.
Rhaenyra was not incapable of being intimidating but all she could ever manage with me was an adorable sort of petulance.
"Oh? You will have to be more specific, half the Realm is chasing after you like a wolf after a wounded doe," That got a few awkward laughs from the ladies and I saw one of my guards, Omeld, quickly raise a mailed hand to cover his mouth to hide his smile. "You yourself seemed plenty pleased when you had those river-boys killing each other for your approval."
She looked somewhat abashed at that and it earned me a chuckle from her peanut gallery of ladies (alright three ladies but the dramatics of the court were beginning to stick), they were all Blacks through and through. Her little gang of mind-slaves. The only one who did not react was Cole, who was taking the entire conversation like a bullet to the heart, shame I could not make that a literal bullet.
Their laughter meant little though, mindslaves were only useful as long as they were not usurpted by a different power.
"I would have no complaints were it some dashing knight," her eyes flickered to her protector. Subtle as a thermonuclear blast, my sister. I have seen men in the Sahara less thirsty. "But father lusts after Velaryon gold more than my happiness."
Huh, I guess that I had not done anything to make the Velaryons less angry or less insanely wealthy. I had not even managed to ripple them into cutting ties with Daemon, I guessed Rhaenys had not told her snake the whole truth after all.
It was for the best in retrospect, it would have been a shame for such a man to be roasted by a dragon.
Still…
"Laenor then?" Well that sucked for Rhae.
"That damned sword-swallower!" She hissed, all the pleasantness of the moment replaced with reignited fury. Why did every Targaryen overreact so dramatically but me? Alright, including me. "How am I supposed to be a wife much less a queen to… to… that!"
Sweet mother of the first half of the twentieth century these people hated homosexuality. I mean, I could fully support her not wanting to get herself into that situation but going as far as to call him a 'thing' seemed rather cruel.
"An outrage indeed," Which sadly did not mean I was willing to stick my neck out for him. I was already considered odd enough without showing him open sympathy. I did not care to make myself an even greater target.
"Something must be done!" Rhaenyra spit (metaphorically, my views on spitting were made clear after I had Ebermen manhandle the last knight to do so in my presence).
"Such as?" I asked.
She got stumped there, did she expect I had some sort of answer?
"I am always glad to listen Rhae, but I am only six. Surely you have people more knowledgeable on such matter than I?" And interrupting bath-time is just in poor taste.
Rhaenyra mirrored my look, "Gaem, my beloved little knight. I wanted to ask you for a boon."
I raised a brow, "A boon? Rhaenyra I am six. My 'boons' are very much limited at the moment."
"I want you to make it unnecessary for me to wed the Laenor," I did not like the look in her eyes. My eyes shot wide open when an idea occurred.
"Rhae, I love you but I am not willing to go that far," I was willing to go far to preserve my hide but I drew the line at incest.
"What?" Rhaenyra looked confused before cracking up into a smile, "Oh! The Queen already suggested that, Father refused."
I nodded dumbly, well that did not make me look great. I cleared my throat, "Then what would you ask of me, sister?"
"I want to offer you to house Velaryon in my place!" She smiled as if that had been a masterstroke.
That made my brains stop in terror for a moment, "Rhae if you are suggesting to offer me the Laenor I swear that I will-"
I was cut off by the room filling with laughter as my brain caught up with what my damned mouth had said.
I cleared my throat awkwardly, this was not my best day. "You gave me quite a fright there."
"In any case," Rhaenyra said while trying to contain her humor. "I actually want to offer you to Laena."
Hello mental screaming, how have you been doing?
"L-lae-Laena!" I stuttered.
"I know that she is a number of years your senior but she is still a fair maiden and will not be beyond her childbearing age when you are a bit older," she continued when I didn't answer.
She wanted me to engage myself to Laena?
She wanted me to freaking engage myself to a woman that Daemon specifically killed a fiancé to get to otl? What the hell?
"-And of course once I am on the throne I can annul the marriage and find you a better bride-" She probably did not notice how pale I was.
I would be a dead man. I would be dead beyond comprehension.
"H-have you made mention of this plan to father?" I hoped not, I really did not want to die.
"Of course!" She smiled, "He took it under consideration but I feel if you express your support then it is sure to succeed!"
Was I hyperventilating? I felt like I was hyperventilating.
Then a thought occurred that I reached for like my life depended on it because it did.
"She is engaged!" I shouted like a man that had spotted land after a century at sea. Ya! She had been engaged since she was twelve! I remembered specifically, Laena had for some reason been engaged to the son of the oligarchic and non-hereditary head of Braavos for some insane reason!
"Do not worry!" She said, mistaking my desperation for enthusiasm. "I am told that Lord Velaryon revealed her dishonor to her fiancé, understandably the Lord Velaryon insisted on breaking off the agreement to save face."
Damn you Daemon! You provided the Seasnake with an excuse to honourably break off the bargain with the wastrel!
Something, something! I needed something!
Sadly, I failed to take not of the room getting darker as my panic grew until I felt myself slipping off into a faint.
Hello unconsciousness my old friend.
…
As it turned out both Alicent and Viserys had liked the idea, so much so that they had added it as another layer to their offer to the Seasnake. Alicent had been overjoyed at the opportunity to potentially subvert the addition of the Seahorse to the Blacks and Viserys was glad to rectify the dishonor of Daemon's actions.
And so I ended up engaged to a woman who was not just thirteen-ish years my senior but also made me into a walking dead man.
And Rhaenyra still got engaged to Laenor.
I hate you Murphy.
Last edited: May 12, 2018
Have a nice day!
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Mar 19, 2018
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abraxasLD1
I really like Nessa. She seems so sweet.
StrangerOrders said:
"What?" Rhaenyra looked confused before cracking up into a smile, "Oh! The Queen already suggested that, Father refused."
I however hate you Viserys.
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