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ASOIAF Gaemon REDUX (SI)
Thread starterStrangerOrders
Start dateMar 2, 2018
Tags1: dance of dragons house hightower house targaryen i cannot be clear enough about magic less magic but still magic magic is a thing and it will come up. planetos is high fantasy sort of warning: magic z: and to be clear: magic. z: did i mention magic? there is magic
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Mar 21, 2018
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#421
TarMiniatur
I really like the new additions. The characters are more fleshed out, we see the roots of the blind loyalty of the original story and there's a sense that these are real people (and lizards) and not just imaginary characters. The reason I don't comment as much as I did on the original story is that I feel kind of weird making pretty much the same observations again, given that the re-write follows a more-or-less parallel path. Sorry about that.
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#422
lordernest26
I too would like to add my kudos to this new version, not that the old one was bad or anything, in fact it was great. I have probably never read a fan story so fast as Gaemon the Dragon-Steel. But this new one with the added features does look more polished and developed.
Although, if I may share my opinion, something that could help is begin the segments of other characters of the story earlier; they really helped the V1. Everybody acknowledged that Gaemon is an unreliable narrator but helped drive that home when we read what others though or witnessed during certain periods, besides which it clarified some aspects of the story because sometimes Gaemon wasn't there to see or because his paranoia wasn't letting him see it properly.
But, as many other here have said, that is just my humble opinion.
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Mar 22, 2018
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#423
Threadmarks Chapter Sixteen: What?
Index
StrangerOrders
Chapter Sixteen: What?
Fifteenth Day of the Second Month, 113 AC.
"This seems unwise," Ebermen commented as he pulled on one of the sets of goggles we had 'borrowed' from the alchemists. Most of the other guards and staff had already pulled theirs on out of a reasonable fear of going blind.
"So do many things," I answered brightly as I adjusted my own pair. I had been pleasantly surprised by the fact that the glorified pyromaniacs actually had something useful to contribute to the world.
The Bulwer grunted, "As you say."
It had taken quite a bit of begging but I had gotten leave to leave the city to practice, I had not even technically lied when I said that I wanted to practice a Valyrian exercise to better control my scaled friend. Given my already seemingly incredible control over my dragon they had been quite eager to allow it.
Well, sort of.
"I am about to begin!" I shouted to the party sitting at a safe distance on the beach. Apparently, I had been pushing my luck when I concluded that the family of dragonriders would not be interested in refining control over their defining feature.
Viserys himself was not terribly interested and Mom had stayed with him but Rhaenyra and Aeg had been very interested in the whole idea.
Aegon had developed something of an interest in dragons ever since I had tamed Sky and was constantly borrowing my hard stolen tomes to pour over the material. He was still only as old as my own body so it took him a few moons to dig through even one of the books while barraging me with questions about the subject.
The one whom I had not expected was that the Laenor, who had not returned with his parent's to Driftmark, and his insistence on coming to watch.
Given that he was sitting next to and chatting happily with Ser Joffrey I doubted that it had anything to do with Rhaenyra. I knew very little about the man save for his preference and lack of subtlety
Maybe he is as fond of dragons as his mother? He has one after all.
I frowned at that, I should have known better than to dismiss him just because he was not mentioned much. Hell, if anything that was infinitely more reason to get to know the man better.
At any rate, their presence meant that my private training session had turned into a freaking production event since Rhaenyra did not leave the Keep without dozens guards and Binder-of-Corners knows how many Blacks, each bringing their own retinues. This of course meant that Alicent insisted that Aegon bring his own posse of Greens and an equivalent amount of guards. Even Laenor had a band of young lords and squires around him with their own guards. It did not help that they each brought along an attending staff.
Which was to say nothing of the irksome presence of far too many irksome figures such as the Strong brothers, Crownlanders and however many other bored nobles just happened to think that it would be a decent way to pass the time.
Even worse was the fact that they were all sitting so damned close that I could not 'accidentally' roast Ser Criston without potentially harming Rhaenyra. Or light Ser Harwin on fire and steer him into the Kingsguard Lord Commander (who really should have been spending his time better than stalking my Rhae).
I sighed and shook my head before focusing on the task at hand.
Before us were five stones hauled up from the local quarry at my request and placed in a semi-circle towards the sea. Not quite the ornate arena that housed Valyria's Pillar Trial but sometimes one had to make due.
The exercise was simple enough and with two main objectives.
The first was to force the dragon to learn how to regulate temperature on command and to build up endurance. At such an early stage the expectation was merely to heat up the stones, it was not as if a young dragon could actually melt the things.
"Sky!" I shouted at the dragon which was eyeing the whole exercise with the distaste of someone who did not quite understand the purpose of all the commotion.
I pointed at the center stone and went with the most commonly known Valyrian word in my original world, "Dracarys!"
Quick as a whip she launched herself at the stone stopping only a meter away before expelling a jet of flame at the rock. She quickly turned her large head to me awaiting praise for her compliance.
I sighed instead, it really could not be helped and she was still very young after all.
"Good girl," I smiled before pointing at the far right rock, "Dracarys."
This is going to take forever, isn't it?
…
"Quite the clever idea," Laenor opined as the entirely too large party headed back towards the city.
I had sought out his company on the return trip and was speaking very loudly to avoid any misunderstandings on the subject topic.
Honestly people in Westeros were so freaking imaginative that I felt being too paranoid was something of an impossibility.
I had thought to force myself through a conversation but it proved quite the opposite, much to my surprise Laenor was indeed more than a collection of offensive gay stereotypes. Perhaps it should not surprise me that he shared his mother's near fetishistic love of their steeds but I had no way of knowing that his interest actually fell in line with my own.
"If one does indeed posit that dragons are capable of controlling the heat of their flames then that opens a far greater number of potential uses for them than mere combat," he scratched his sharp, clean-shaven chin while starring off into the distance. "I cannot help but wonder if that was the trick to Valyrianfortifications, do you have a copy Merrick's Works of the Ages? He proposed a similar theory, although I have always been a touch dismissive because of his sourcing but he does argue something of the sort."
"I am afraid that I do not believe that we have a copy," I shook my head. Whereas his mother was a born fighter and his sister just liked flying, Laenor weighed heavily on the technical aspects of dragon-riding and had something of a fascination with their more esoteric aspects. He was excited enough by the possibility my exercise presented that he suggested that he might attempt the same thing with Seasmoke. That would have won him quite a few points from me but he followed it up by frowning and noting that Seasmoke's age might make that impossible if it was a learned characteristic.
I was a touch confused at first as to how he could be so sharp yet so clumsy socially but the answer became clear we talked.
"-I once tried writing to the man but he was very offended by my critique, I think that he attempted to be polite but the underlying tone was very much saying that I had no place in the argument. Very unfair as I think that I am literate on the subject-"
Laenor was simply was one of those people that lacked any sort of filter and cared little about his surroundings to the point of monomania when his interest was on something. I had little doubt he would have made a beeline for the Citadel if his father had a second son… or if his mother had a smaller dragon. Likely condition or no did not excuse him but it at least made him more likeable as a person.
He happily smiled at me while we entered the city, "I do hope that Laena sees sense, it would be quite a pleasure to discuss the subject with someone else as amused by such matters. Everyone else thinks that it is boring, they are just too polite to say, so I think?"
He finished the last as if it were a question and his eyes began to drift up in thought but I was too interested in his last words to let the man get distracted.
"Whatever do you mean Laenor? How has Lady Laena failed to see sense?" I asked curiously.
Laenor's face froze for a moment. I felt a bit guilty for putting him on the spot, but I did not want to waste the opportunity.
"My, you are a sharp one!" He patted my head good naturedly. It could not be helped given the considerable disadvantage I had in height even before one factored in Balerion's height next to his bay, the cranky black pony had not become anymore tame with age and proximity to Clearsky did not improve his mood. "Worry not, she has grown somewhat delusional in her illness I am afraid. I cannot say more of mother might keel-haul me again."
I did my best to ignore the last part since Laenor had proven to be exceedingly literal-minded and the implications of the last words were unsettling.
Heh, I chuckled darkly. The Velaryons were still sticking to their guns on that one even with most of King's Landing knew full-well that Corlys had given an iffy excuse at best.
Bullshit sold by the most charming man in the world is still bullshit.
Oh well, when in doubt steal someone else's line, "As you say."
I still had my money on her either being in or riding towards Daemon's bed, or in all likelihood his wall. Daemon did not strike me as a 'let's get to bed for some mundane stuff' kind of guy.
That she might have had a valid or sympathetic reason for her absence and would not humiliate me, my kin and her parents but that struck me as an idealistic delusion.
Call me a cynic, but there was nothing more dangerous on Westeros than someone stupid enough to believe that their idealistic fantasies were worth that much. I might despise Daemon for the threat that he presented but I gave him more credit than that at least, I did not know if he loved Laena but I would bet a pretty penny that she would be set aside or (more accurately) be put on the side as a mistress if something better came around.
Speaking of overreaching and hypocritical pricks, Ser Otto awaited us at the stables.
"Gaemon," he nodded tersely as his green minions ferried Aegon away as my twin had just about reached me while the prick just happened to opt to stand between me and where Laenor and Rhaenyra's parties were dismounting.
"Otto," I greeted back with my best smile.
I liked doing that, I did not call him grandfather, lord or ser. I called him Otto, hell I would refer to him as 'Hightower' if I did not suspect that the change would actually please him. Not to mention that any reminder that he had anything to do with my mother or even that overly optimistic fool of an uncle I had seen a few times bothered the hell out of me.
"Your presence is required," he answered with carefully hidden annoyance. I did love our game, he used to be irritated by it, but I was never alone and he could not act without consequences.
I felt emboldened as I felt Merric, Omeld, Hubert and Hubert finish dismounting and moving to form pairs at behind me and Ebermen. Each with their little pendent and their debts.
You could not touch me even if you wanted too.
I tilted my head, "by whom? I am quite busy."
"By the queen," He said with practiced stoniness.
"Oh? I would love to see mother!" I chirped happily. I knew that it would probably be a scheme of his making but I loved knocking his ego down a peg whenever I had a chance. "Let me just bid my dear sister and Laenor, farewell!"
I took just long enough to peeve him off. I hugged my sister and kissed her farewell and then got into a quick debate with Laenor about Baelon's integration of Westerosi saddle making techniques into the saddles worn by our own steeds. I genuinely found it a pleasant discussion, but it was mostly to annoy Otto.
After that, I felt that I should not keep mom waiting so I bid them farewell and muttered a quick death-curse on Criston begging for all his drinks to be converted to distilled Platypus Venom. A horrible way to die that.
As I walked down the corridors of the keep with the Otto the Great and Powerful and his band of Emerald minions I passed the time by wondering what silly plan they had in store for me after the Laena-fiasco.
Unlike Alicent who saw me as a battleground, Otto seemed under the horrendously wrong impression that I was a piece on his board. I actually felt a little bad for him if his arrogance was so severe as to allow that particular hallucination to exist.
In fairness, it was not an uncommon assumption. The royal brood was not really as politicized as I had expected outside of the nominal heads of the mint versus chocolate war, I was not sure if it was a ripple but no one seemed to give us any political weight. My own pet theory was that Rhaenyra was partial to me and my little squirrel of a sister while Aemond was understandably difficult.
So, much like the Lord Hand. We were either ignored by the two factions or assumed to be on their respective sides.
Which was freaking idiotic because I was very much on team 'keep my limbs attached and uncooked' and a fan of mint chocolate besides
While I mused about my contempt for the black/green affair, Sky was trailing behind and delighting in snaking her head behind an unsuspecting Green or two before exhaling a nice warm breath down their necks and making them scream in terror. It made me feel the strangest form of pride that of all the dragons I ended up with one that was a troll at heart.
Omeld continued building up my respect for him by putting a hand up to cover his mouth while his fellows either rolled their eyes or snorted. Clearsky's fondness for taunting was about as interesting for them as watching paint dry after months if not years of exposure. I could even swear that Hubert the Reachman's sigh was exasperation at the cowardice of the alleged guards given the disdain on his features whenever one of them yelped.
That pleased me, I had worked hard to decensatize my 'household' to Sky even while the little dragon's fear of my governess contributed heavily to the effort.
Once, one even lost his balance and almost fell on me, but my Shield merely caught the older knight (It was easy to forget that Ebermen was actually a year Nessa's junior with his hard features) by the gorget as if he were grabbing a dog by the scruff of his neck and stood him up in two quick gestures before the man moved away quickly.
I had not quite figured out why but many of the Green knights and men-at-arms did not like to be close to my Shield and seemed eager to demure where they might have called for blood had it been one of my other guards.
"You should keep that thing in the pit with the others," Otto commented, not bothering to turn back to acknowledge the dragon which seemed quite unbothered by the nervousness she was propagating.
"Sky is harmless," I noted with my decidedly taunting smile as I beckoned her to come next to me so that I could scratch at the right spot to produce a purr. "She merely likes to play, is that not right Ser Ebermen?"
My bull snorted with what I would wager was annoyance, with the whole affair, "As you say, my prince."
I could not fault him for wanting to be more formal around my sorry excuse for a grandfather.
After that we faded into an awkward silence until we mercifully made it to the Solar that mother had confiscated for that particular round of scheming. If I ever got that Press down right, I would happily make them little membership cards. Maybe hats so Sky can pick them out when I eventually lost my patience and incinerate every irksome mint-chocolate.
I put thoughts of the impending conflagration out of my mind as I happily ran inside and threw my arms around my waiting mother, she enjoyed my habit of always meeting her with a genuine hug and a kiss on the cheek.
"You called, mother?" I asked while shooting her a bright smile. The word felt strangely natural on my lips, none of the feigned effort I had to put into sounding deferential to other titles.
I greeted her the same way at every meal I was allowed to attend and every afternoon where she would spend an hour or two with her brood. That might not sound like much but for a royal it was actually sort of amazing and she was unfailingly warm with us, it was probably why even Aemond turned into a needy puppy around her.
I knew that Aegon was her focus but I liked to think that I was second, a surprisingly petty thought but it was a hard one to shake.
And it was always rewarding to have the smile reciprocated, "Hello my darling boy. How was your venture?"
Fangirl of Valyria as she was, she had been among those that found my notion interesting. Either that or she thought that being supportive of my interests would help win me over.
Or she was genuinely just pleased to see how excited I was at the prospect, I could not be sure.
"As good as can be hoped," I shrugged sheepishly. "It was only the first day after all."
"I am sure that you and Clearsky will master it quickly," she said with motherly pride.
"My thanks," I blushed in embarrassment for a moment before I realized something peculiar. Aside from the two flavors of guards and her Kingsguard of the day (the mopey broom of a man more commonly known as Willis Fell), we were alone save for Otto.
That was, unusual. mom usually liked to keep her ladies around her.
"You called me, mother?" I tried to keep myself from frowning at the ominous change.
"Yes," she eased sat on one of the chair and patted the seat beside her. "Come, sit."
I cautiously did as she bade, pulling myself onto the seat. I could not wait to get back to a reasonable height.
"As you know Gaemon, you are at the age where it is a possibility to begin your time as a page," what?
"I thought that that was at seven namedays?" That made me somewhat nervous, I had considered squiring but a page at six was ridiculous.
"Typically," Otto said with the tone of someone that loved to correct others, the lips beneath his oaky beard twisting into a smile that I called a sneer. "It is not unheard of for particularly incapable or weak boys to wait until their eighth year or in the case of stronger or brighter boys to begin as early as six."
Oh....
Oh, you prick.
"You mean to make me a page?" My smile was as brittle as a thin tower made of nothing but the driest of coals.
Mother's smile seemed somewhere between sad and proud, "You are such a bright child, I will miss you."
Nope, no way in all the hells am I giving up my agency. I had more than enough people trying to monitor my every move without having someone I was supposed to flipping serve in addition. Not to mention that I had no interest learning more of what I already knew from the vaunted geniuses of Westeros.
"May I suggest a candidate?" I said as sweetly as I could. I will be fine if I can get Ebermen or or some nice lickspittle that will treat me like a damned saint in order to suck up to whichever faction they belonged to.
Alicent chuckled, "No, my sweet child, your father has already decided on where you will go."
Son of a Cersei! Why would you not at least consult with me on this first?
Oh ya, I'm six.
Shit.
Wait a minute, where?!?
"You are sending me away?" I was so off put by the idea that I let a bit of agitation slip into my tone. "Why? What have I done?"
"Nothing my sweet boy," Alicent said with a comforting tone but I felt the blood flowing out of my face and her words fell on deaf ears.
"Where?" I asked numbly.
"You will come to Oldtown and serve my brother," Otto said nonchalantly.
Oh screw you Otto. If you were anymore a thorn in my side, you'd be a Tyrell.
"I do not want to go," It was freaking suicide for me to leave at such a critical time.
"It will not be so bad," Mother said in reassurance. "You will be surrounded by family."
You mean Greens.
"Why do you want to get rid of me?" I wished it was a manipulation, but I was genuinely hurt. Out of all the places they could send me, they sent me as far away from King's Landing as they could within Green territory short of the Arbor.
I knew the answer as to why, they wanted me away so that I could not fall deeper under Rhaenyra's sway. They did not care about where I child might fall on politics but I would not be one forever. They might as well have gotten a green brand for all the difference it made.
"I do not want this," I said as I rested my head in my hands. I didn't think it unfair to compare the news to announcing a damned execution in the distant future.
"It is the custom boy," Otto scolded me. "You will serve the family, as is your duty."
Not the brightest of ideas because Sky was feeling my panic turning into rage.
"It was you!" I howled as I pulled myself up from my seat.
She snapped her jaws and hissed at Otto, who moved away from her with fear.
"Gaemon!" Mother shouted. "Control her, now."
I was not listening because I was seeing freaking red.
I could not leave King's Landing, if I did then I would not be able to pull the reins on the crazy pack of nutjobs to keep them from the damned cliff. They'd war and I would die. I did not want to die. It was a critical time, I had not planned to leave until I was firmly entrenched on everyone's good side and Rhaenyra's nuptials were at least mitigated.
"Gaemon!" Alicent shouted again as Sky took another step towards the soon to be dead man. To his credit, he did not shy away from her, keeping his expression studiously unfazed. Not the brightest thing he could have done but it was still ballsy.
The tension had raised slowly in the room, some of the Hightower men had their hands on their pommels while my own men mirrored the action and turned their heads away from the dragon to the Greens in an unexpected move that jarred me enough to snap me back to my senses.
I shook my head, "Sky!"
She stopped midstride and looked to me, I nodded to her and she retreated to her corner after one final growl at the prick.
"You would do well to learn restraint your beast, boy," Otto said warningly while adjusting his robes.
"Father!" Mother shouted at her father, revealing more than a little anger. Her lips pulling back and her eyes darkening in the same way they had the last time she had caught one of her ladies repeating one of the more unfortunate rumor about me. "Perhaps it is for the best you wait outside."
It became clear enough who commanded the loyalty of the guards in the room as two took a step towards Otto as he made to argue.
"Of course daughter," Otto said with a frown as he excused himself.
After he left mom signaled the other men to leave, my guard left with them save for Ebermen who merely contented himself with pretending to be furniture.
When the last had gone she took a long breath and turned back to me.
"Forgive him, my dear." Alicent said softly as she passed a hand through my hair.
"Do you wish me to go?" I asked as I felt the tension drain from my body. I let my anger get the better of me, I could not afford to do that when I had a dragon.
Gaema was whipped the few times Qelos reacted overtly to her temper, I idly considered whether I should take that up mself, it might help prevent me from becoming a kinslayer because I let my temper slip.
"I would have preferred to wait a year or perhaps two before sending you away," She seemed somewhat sad. Well it was to be expected from a helicopter mother who already only had so much time to hover.
"Then why?" I asked. Why on earth do you think this is okay?
"The king has become rather insistent that some time away from the court would do you well," Alicent smiled gently. "He had hoped to send you to Driftmark originally but since things have… changed, father suggested that Oldtown would be better for you."
…How was it that she thought I did not understand that it probably had little and less to do with me? I guessed that everyone was pissed at the Velaryons for making us look bad and decided to punish them by taking away the prestige of a royal page.
I doubted Viserys cared one wit about me in the greater scheme of things.
"So, I will not marry lady Velaryon then?" I asked hopefully. I would assume so given that I could exactly marry as empty chair.
"Of course you can," Mom consoled me. "The Velaryon's insist that lady Laena only needs a season or two to recover and then the betrothal can be announced."
No, it will not. It would take incredible ignorance to actually think it would happen. Oh, I did believe that all parties would insist on it until one flinched first and the other one played the scorned party.
"I-I will need to time to prepare," I said in defeat.
"Of course my dear," She said. "You will have three weeks at the very least. It will not be so bad, the King has already agreed to let you take your caretaker, your guards and even some of your servants. You will not be alone at all, my sweet."
Alright, time to do my best to avoid being completely cut out of the picture.
"Very well, mother," I nodded with as much contentment as I could muster.
After saying my farewells and leaving the room I walked towards my chambers with a tired pace. I had forgotten that I was still covered in sweat from the morning's efforts.
"So," I sighed. "How is Oldtown?"
"Fair," Ebermen said.
"How are the Hightowers?"
"…Numerous."
"Lovely."
Last edited: Mar 22, 2018
Have a nice day!
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Mar 22, 2018
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#424
Doragon
and from out of the shadows comes a new update. huzzah
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Mar 22, 2018
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#425
abraxasLD1
Whelp, time for Oldtown. Clearsky should have been allowed to eat Otto.
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Mar 22, 2018
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#426
Azum
That old man should've been dragon toast. Ahh the medieval ability to be spurned by the smallest thing...
Is that some more Laenor i see?
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Mar 22, 2018
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#427
Doragon
Not going to lie, I like Laenor.
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Mar 22, 2018
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#428
LuxEterna
the cultvibes intensify, so how long til gaemon menally dubs his servants as 'minions'
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Mar 22, 2018
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#429
Doragon
LuxEterna said:
the cultvibes intensify, so how long til gaemon menally dubs his servants as 'minions'
At least he gets to take his cultIMEAN SERVANTS with him
I LOVED LOVED LOVED how his guards are so casual around Clearsky and all the others are trembling at the sight of it
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Mar 22, 2018
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#430
Eboniska
I'm loving Laenor interactions at the moment!
[COMING SOON] Queen of Blood and Vengeance: A Helaena Targaryen AU (NOT SI)
[DELAYED TILL FIRE AND BLOOD RELEASED] How to make Sons of the Dragon Era even worse- An SI
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Mar 22, 2018
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#431
Garm88
So are the Hightowers the Old Money Freys?
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Mar 22, 2018
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#432
RichardWhereat
Yes. Cregan should have punished the Hightowers far more harshly than he did in canon. They used to be Kings in their own right before the Gardener took them.
General Snippets - D&D Snippets - Mechanic of Ottery HP SI
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Mar 23, 2018
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#433
Valin Arcadius
And once again Otto pisses me the hell off...
Tact is the ability to tell someone to go to hell in such a way that they look forward to the trip. - Winston Churchill
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Mar 23, 2018
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#434
LuxEterna
Valin Arcadius said:
And once again Otto pisses me the hell off...
there is a reason that even as a baby gaemon knew to put him on the 'asshole' pile 
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Mar 23, 2018
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#435
Garm88
Valin Arcadius said:
And once again Otto pisses me the hell off...
He should call him Grampy Otty just for the lulz.
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Mar 23, 2018
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#436
LuxEterna
Garm88 said:
He should call him Grampy Otty just for the lulz.
but that would acknowledging the relation between them 
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Mar 23, 2018
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#437
Doragon
LuxEterna said:
but that would acknowledging the relation between them 
Which would anger him more
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Mar 23, 2018
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#438
Threadmarks Chapter Seventeen: Voted Best Oldtown Eight Millennia Running.
Index
StrangerOrders
Chapter Seventeen: Voted Best Oldtown Eight Millennia Running.
First Day of the Fourth Month, 113 AC.
Unsurprisingly the Hightower was the first things we saw, a great spire jutting out in the distance against the green of the ever-expanding plains and the blue of the sea.
Or, put another way, like the very encapsulation of the core concepts at the heart of every human culture's monuments. A bloated, half-insane and utterly ridiculous waste of money that no rational being would build because there was no possible reason to actually make such a monstrosity aside from stroking its ego.
Plus, the overcompensation metaphor, which seemed oddly applicable to almost everyone in that world.
…Now I do admit that I was making these observations after a few weeks' worth of listening to every damned lord and landed knight along the Roseroad braying about whatever they had to brag about. So I might have been a bit uncharitable in my initial impressions of my maternal home.
Not long after we saw the stone-prick, there began to appear the many vassal towers and domes of the Citadel, City Knights, merchant clans and the faith behind the tall walls of the city. Last was the sprawl of the outer city which extended farther than the city walls could reasonably reach as was to be expected of a city so massive.
After all, not every city could be a hellish abomination born of no city planning or good reasoning like King's Landing.
As our little caravan made its way towards the gates of Oldtown proper I sighed in more than a little relief.
It's finally almost over.
"We made it," I smiled.
"I do not understand your worry," snorted Bulwer next to me. "The Roseroad is one of the safest paths in the whole Westeros."
"Your point?" I shot back. "The safest road in Westeros is like the smallest dragon, still entirely too dangerous."
"As you say," He acknowledged.
"Good thing we have the smallest dragon, right sire?" Omeld chuckled as he rode close to us. His long blonde locks flowing behind his roguish looks as he breathed in the air.
"Helmet, Omeld," Bulwer ordered with a pointed look at the knight who had the decency to pull his helmet back on.
For all his words of assurance, Ebermen was tyrannical about helmets and readiness.
Which was ironically more reassuring to me than the words.
Say what you will, but roads in Europe during a similar era were not exactly safe and when were things ever better in Westeros save for inexplicably resilient dentistry?
Still. We had a surprisingly pleasant journey from King's Landing to Oldtown, made more pleasant by the fact that Otto had opted to stay in the capital to pester my poor mother. Little good could come of that, but Strong was still alive, the keen-eyed Hand would likely not let that imbecile cause too much damage.
I imagined that he would have more than enough time to do so as he no longer had to pester me.
Unfortunately, my criteria for 'surprisingly pleasant' was not getting kidnapped, stabbed, poisoned or eaten.
So by most other metrics, it had not been a far from ideal trip.
A prince, even a young thirdborn child (or secondborn son, depending on whom you asked), could not travel across one of the most populated kingdoms without being intercepted by just about every noble worth their salt on the way.
Caswell, Merryweather, Fossoway, not-Tyrell, Florent, Beesbury, to just list the major ones and three times that number in lesser lords and landed knights. Many of which I had actively tried to avoid only to be waylaid by their knights with their 'greetings' and invitations to sup at their keeps.
I had seriously considered abandoning my men and attempting to escape more than once but Balerion was not exactly suited to outrunning rouncey's and pettiness aside it would have left everyone looking bad.
More often than not I had resorted to feigning childishness and making my guards take the bulk of the misery.
Ebermen had been quite clever in foisting that particular duty on the most unwelcomed member of our party.
It was not that I had any particular dislike for Ser Rickard Thorne aside from his sharing the name of a very distant relative. The knight of seven and twenty was certainly capable enough and not the worst company even if he was a touch demeaning to everyone 'beneath' him. He simply had the misfortune of both being the perceived leader of the caravan and lacking a pendant.
Our caravan was not especially large, a half-dozen wagons with three times that number in horse. I had been allowed to bring about twenty of my household along with my nine guards so we were able to move at a relatively brisk pace from keep to keep without really being worthwhile targets for traditional bandits.
Although, I would say the living flamethrower lazily napping on the back of one of the wagons was probably a key part of the reason why we were not bothered. The fact that she would habitually took flight to make lazy circuits around us probably sending any trouble doer with a half-league running in the opposite direction.
The logistics of getting a young dragon from one side of Westeros to the other had boiled down to a sizable purse of gold and paying as we went for whatever cattle Sky decided to call dibs on. I made a point to overshoot the value of whatever she ate, might as well so good will and get some smallfolk speaking positively about me I reasoned.
It also won me some good will that Sky was good with people and fond of worship, I had left a trail of children in my wake that would probably be speaking about the time that they petted a dragon until their dying breath. The only mishap had been the one time I did not notice that we were approaching some farmers who were roasting a butchered pig… ya, that did not go great.
My annoyance at our travel delays aside, I was pleased to have made it safely and deaf (once more, those lordlings had really tested my patience).
As we got closer I noticed that our arrival was being expected given that the Hightowers had likely been receiving ravens nonstop from every castle, keep and towerhouse with a rookery and maester since I had started my trip.
An entire formation of courtiers and riders awaited us on the road, flying the incredibly unimaginative sigil of my maternal house. A grey lighthouse on white, which I supposed was better than including the chthonic structure right below the actual tower which I intended to avoid like the plague since I had no interest in fighting tentacle monsters until I was burly, bearded, heavily scarred and dressed in full plate over a chastity belt because reasons.
Fears of the Fisherman's Wife aside, it was a fairly impressive welcoming party, managing to out-bling even the more excessive lords which had delayed me. Most of them were dressed in silks, light furs and other absurdly expensive things.
At the head of the formation was a man atop a great white destrier and shining silvered plate draped with white and grey woven in a grid pattern. His armor was filigreed with gold, inlaid gems and flared with stonework themes and crested by flame-like pattern to invoke the imagery of his house.
Well someone's fancy, I chuckled internally. Seriously, what could be more excessive than to ride the most expensive horse possible while decked out in armor so ornate that you might as well have equip a dozen knights and it would have been cheaper.
"Either that is Lord Hightower or my mother's house is fond of wastefulness," I muttered.
That got a rare smile from Ebermen or at least the vague movement on the corners of his mouth that passed for one as he.
"As you say," the bull commented. I envied how easily the man walked around clad in full armor the whole day without seeming to be bothered or even encumbered by it, hell the white palfrey he rode seemed more bothered by the load than he did.
"Well, let us go greet him before he roasts to death trying to impress us," I laughed as I gently spurred my miniature black dread onwards. Years later and it only took my pony the slightest bit of encouragement to launch at the speed of an irritable rocket.
Sky must have sensed the ruckus because she uncoiled and launched herself from her wagon.
I had not planned for it but hearing her roar and fly over me was probably pretty good for effect. At least they probably thought it was a roar, it actually took a great bit of practice to differentiate a dragon's roar from a dragon's yawn. The creatures were built from the ground up to be effortlessly intimidating.
As my caravan scurried to catch up I rode up to greet my host for my next few years with Ebermen and two of my men at my back… it was not the best moment for my or my pony's ego because they were able to keep up with a light pace while Balerion worked himself half to death.
After recovering from the shock of seeing a live dragon pop out of nowhere the Lord of the Hightower urged his steed to move forward to meet me. I'd wager he had seen dragons before because the rest of his party took a bit longer to recover and follow their living meal-ticket.
As he came closer I reassessed my earlier conclusion that the man was the lord of the Hightower. He looked entirely too young for it, if I recalled my lessons then Ser Otto's brother Lymon should have been about six and forty whereas the man in front of me at most nine and twenty.
He had the same slightly rounded but otherwise regal features that I saw on most Hightowers with shoulder-length chestnut hair and a carefully trimmed beard to match.
"Greetings cousin!" the Hightower greeted as we met, his loud voice made him sound like the sort of man who spent his entire life in a good mood.
"Greetings cousin!" I smiled back while trying to unclench my jaw.
'I would rather try to skin a wolverine with rabies than be here,' would not have been a great greeting. I had tried to worm my way out of coming to Oldtown, I even went as far as suggesting other great seats instead but unsurprisingly my opinion was not exactly a high priority. I was also not stupid or cruel enough to slight my mother by suggesting that her home was specifically the place I did not want to go to.
We rode back to the main party before making our way towards the main gates of the city, an unsurprisingly oversized monstrosity of oak and iron flanked by two colossi that passed for gatehouses in typical Westerosi notions of proportion.
I was a touch overwhelmed by the throngs of people on either side of the street cheering maniacally. In retrospect I should not have been surprised, the Hightowers had an insanely tight grasp over their city if my memory served so they might well be trying not to draw the proverbial eye of Sauron by making their liege look bad… huh, was not expecting them to get this carried away about my arrival-
Then Sky landed next to me and I realized why the crowd had been so hyped, Oh right. Dragon. I guess you do not see those every day.
I rode slowly down the streets waving at the people shouting their greetings as the Hightower spoke to me through the throng.
"We have not had a chance to meet, I am your cousin Ormund," He commented with a smile that was not directed at me so much as his pride at who he was. Not the best indicator but still, I felt like that name rung a bell.
Ormund, Ormund, hmm. Oh right! The Lord Hightower during the Dance! The one that got killed by Roddy the Face-wrecker, the ASOIAF version of Pelinal Whitestrike or a T-800.
I felt bad for my cousin. It would really suck to learn that the most awesome moment of your life was defined by how awesome your killer was.
Which got me thinking that I had to look up the monster of a man when the chance presented itself.
"Ah, of course cousin," I smiled brightly as I scanned the crowd. I made a point to make eye-contact as much as possible and nod, every smallfolk I make a good impression on is one less pitchfork after all. "It is a pleasure to meet you."
"You will have to pardon my father for sending myself in his stead," Ormund said casually, if he was unnerved by my diction, he was hiding it well. "You might know that he is not a terribly vital man."
I lifted a brow, no I do not. "I did know that Lord Lymon was infirm."
"Not as such," Ormund responded with a quick laugh. "He is prone to a bit of sickness but with a mind sharper than the sharpest blade of Valyria, I assure you."
My eyes went immediately to the blade he tapped as he said that. Vigilance perhaps? I would have to ask later, the chance to study a Valyrian steel sword would make this entire trip worthwhile as Blackfyre was kept locked up tight and I had not been allowed to 'play' with it. To say nothing of Darksister and my having very desire have Daemon with naked steel be within a hundred leagues of me.
As we rode on I took a closer look at the city that everyone in the books had practically been tripping over themselves to praise.
It was pretty enough I would say, I did remind me of a cobblestone fetishist's idea of city planning but then again, any planning at all was exceptional by Westerosi standards. It was also fairly clean by my sadly diminished standards because I did not see that much excrement from the various members of the animal kingdom including humanity literally everywhere, which made it better than large swathes of King's Landing.
Honestly, it was as if the moment Barth died everyone shouted, 'all clear!' and proceeded to do unspeakable things in the street.
"Oldtown is truly lovely," I noted half-heartedly. I idly wondered after what the population of the city would be like if it had an accurate census, the sheer scale I had seen on the approach seemed more in line with an unusually large city by my modern standards and King's Landing was similarly atrocious in scale. Many medieval European cities were atrociously big if they were larger than fifty thousand, but the capital was more than ten times that and Oldtown was only supposed to be only a bit behind that.
My token praise got a proud smile from Ormund, "Indeed, we pride ourselves on it. The loveliest city in the kingdoms if I do say so myself!"
His booming voice only exacerbated the man's bragging. Yet it was not as irksome as Otto's for some reason, maybe because he managed to not come across as condescending with every single breath?
Clearsky must have agreed with my sentiment because she snorted in amusement. I wished that she would take to the sky so that we could move more quickly but she insisted on crawling along beside me, which had the effect of slowing us down considerably.
I could also swear that she was strutting.
"Your dragon is a beautiful creature," Ormund noted merrily. "I did not believe the rumours at first but she does seem extraordinarily obedient."
"Heh," I smiled. "Lazy and proud are better words Ormund. She just enjoys worship and the smallfolk fawning over her more than burning them to crisps."
He did not seem to know what to say to that. In fact, his smile faltered a little at my answer…
Shit, I've been letting Rickard do too much of the talking, I forgot how to moderate between myself and feigning to be completely childish. For his part the Kingsguard had fallen back to speak with some of the other knights which had been accompanying my cousin.
Ormund himself seemed fairly dumbstruck by my poor choice of words and was not quick to pick up conversation again, it was entirely possible that he was trying to puzzle out how to restart it himself but were both mute.
As neither of us seemed sure how to continue, I decided that there was really only one good way to approach it.
Steer into the skid and hope for the best.
"You will forgive me cousin," I said with a laugh as I scratched the back of my head. "I had forgotten that most do tend to find me odd, I feared that if I did not stay quiet at feasts they might have been unnerved so my manners suffered a bit, you will forgive my strangeness I hope?"
I was not expecting what followed.
"Well I imagine that most would!" Ormund said quickly as he straightened himself on his destrier and stuck out his chest a bit with a broad smile, "It is quite fortunate that we Hightowers are not such simple creatures."
Huh.
I guess phrasing things as a challenge are the best way to approach you.
"Then it seems that the better choice was indeed the Hightower over the High Tide!" I said with an equally broad smile. That was sort of true in its own fashion, certainly fewer reminders that I was technically being cuckolded while awaiting my impending doom.
Regrettably, the news of my being sent as a page was not enough to convince the Velaryons that they should try marrying their daughter to someone else. Laenor had even gifted me a rare tome from his collection as a congratulatory gift, which I had unfortunately yet to be able to read.
The only one reading it was Nessa from where she sat on the main wagon, idly flipping through the pages, my governess seemed to have developed the notion that she had to read every book I owned to be a competent instructor. I had almost had Mellos cut into ribbons for forbidding the girl access to the royal library which Runciter had always allowed all servants to access so long as they did not remove a book.
I forced the irritating memory back to the back of my mind so as to pay attention to my host.
"Indeed cousin!" I was certain that if I stroked his ego a bit more, he might have literally exploded. "You will find the Hightower as welcoming to you as the Red Keep. No! Better in fact for you will only find kin within the tower's walls!"
And there it is. It had not been lost on me, or any of the court in fact, that I had more or less been sent there for the sole purpose of getting me so green that I would have to sing a modified cover of a certain Eiffel 65 song.
Rhaenyra had in particular been less than pleased about the whole venture, in fact 'bloody flipping angry' might be a more apt way of describing her reaction to the news.
That had been of use to me, I had convinced her to come visit me at least once every two months. It was a short enough trip on dragon-back and I hoped that it might get her into the habit of traveling more. One of the things that really hurt her in the original timeline was her lack of connection.
Viserys was after all the genius that had broken one of the better ideas that Aegon and his successors had by stopping the regular processions across the Kingdoms.
We also agreed to write weekly, in fact I told her explicitly that I would assume something horrible had befallen her if she failed to write and to do the same vice versa.
I did not know how that would last but anything that allowed me at least some chance as at preventing her from trying to hop into bed with that brainless idiot that she was screwing for the better part of two decades in the otl was worth it. I would also need to camp out in front of her quarters when I returned in a year for the wedding, but I could only do so much at a given time.
I was expecting two more sets of letters on a regular basis.
Obviously, Mother had promised to write to me twice a week which was good. I did not think that any Black would try to poison my mother or younger siblings, but I needed to be sure. I had grown to love them as hard as it was to admit, and I needed to know exactly when and if something happened to them so that I could take vengeance on-erm, that is to say that I needed to keep on eye on the Greens.
The last writer I was expecting to hear from was Mushroom.
I had enough favors in court to get Mushroom a scribe on a bi-weekly basis and had left a payment mechanism among the few pendants that had stayed in the Keep to ensure that he would be paid as long as he fed me my due… along with a small number of pendant wearing guards which would beat him half-to-death on command.
If it was not for the fact that Pert the castle Bladesmith wore one himself, I would feel poorly for having him commission so many of the damned things. Precisely forty-two pendants had entered existence and each was worn around a neck that I mostly trusted to scratch my back as long as I scratched theirs and continued offering the small pittances that no one else could be bothered with.
By the time I returned to paying attention Ormund was still talking about the glories of House Hightower. He would have made a good PR guy in another world.
…
As I had noted from afar, the Hightower looked big.
From up close? It stopped being big and started being 'how the bloody hell did you make this?'
As we got off of the first of the ferries and made our way up the massive stair from the main dock to the tower proper I was struck by the sheer scale of it.
The Hightower was about eight hundred and fifty feet from the top of its base (for some reason the lords of the castle did not take kindly to Maesters who measured it as part of the structure) to the top lighthouse built at its very edge. All of which did nothing to account for the fact that battle isle was essentially a tall rock in the first place. Both of which would have given it about another hundred feet.
In total, the whole thing was two Lighthouses of Alexandria stacked vertically atop each other in seven vast tiers like a god's birthday cake with literally hundreds if not thousands of windows and balconies.
I had seen taller structures in the travels of my first life, even the Burj Khalifa, that abominable flower of steel blooming in a desert, piercing the heavens.
But those were metal, those were rooted in reason and logic and science.
The Hightower was striking because it was impossible, stone and wood. It should have buckled or collapsed under its construction.
In fact I was so struck that it was not until we were a fair ways up the steps that I managed to tear my eyes away from the massive monument to overcompensation to notice the small army of Hightower servants and Hightowers proper awaiting us atop it in the wide courtyard.
Once again it was not hard to pick out the head Hightower.
Lymon was a thinner version of Ormund and honestly had more grey in his hair and lines on his face than a man of his age should. I supposed that it was to be expected given that Ormund would be the lord in sixteen years at the very most.
I went to my default and smiled brightly as I reached the top step.
"Greetings Lord Hightower," I made as polite a bow as etiquette suggested, a royal is only allowed to bow so low after all.
"Greetings my prince," his voice was reedier than his son's but still had that same weirdly gregarious quality to it. Huh, maybe Otto was the sole inheritor of the 'Imperious Asshole' gene? Fascinating.
"My thanks for taking me on as your page," I smiled.
Lord Hightower smiled. "Nonsense, my prince Gaemon. I thank you for letting this old man pass on chivalry another future knight."
That got way too many approving gestures from the crowd which made sense given the Reach's hard on for chivalry. Which was sort of hilarious given the rest of the world (and even the Reachmen in practice).
Which was a lot like taking a vow of celibacy in a brothel really.
Actually, that sounded far too benign. It was more like swearing off drugs before taking a dive into a sea composed of concentrated hallucinogens tailored to induce a propensity for incest and pedophilia.
Introductions led to a veritable barrage of introductions and later feasting which I would hazard a guess had absolutely nothing to do with becoming a page.
As it turns out there were about thirty plus living Hightowers along with two cadet houses and a dozen or so representatives of their seven vassal lordly houses in addition to more knightly houses than I cared to recall.
It was unnerving how accepting they all were with my nature, probably jockeying for favor with Lymon who was in turn jockeying for the Green's. Not that I could really appreciated it as exhaustion began to catch up with me and one too many feasts had me at my wit's end.
It felt like an eternity before they remembered that I was bone-tired and wanted to find my new rooms.
I finished penning my first letter to Rhaenyra not long after I thanked my hosts and turned in for the night. They had been gracious enough to provide me with rooms that I suspected had been explicitly prepared for me.
They were a large set of apartments located right atop the fifth of the seven segments of the tower (I was exceedingly relieved to hear that they had something akin to an oxen-powered elevator system to get around the hundreds of floors) with a ramp leading to the top which would suit Sky very well for at least a few years. It's presence along with the style of the walls and the proportions of the furniture made me suspect that they renovated an old barracks for my use.
I was sort of flattered but also kind of embarrassed because I was fairly certain that I would not be able to do what they expected me to do, namely stab my sister in the back and paint myself green. No more than I would accept turning on my own mother for a Black.
I smiled as I looked over the other letters I had prepared for my family, one for Mother and a far simpler one for little Aegon, along with quick messages to my younger siblings. I had promised them all that I would write at least once a week and I was not one to break promises when possible. It was too dangerous to write to Mushroom directly after all, his missives were to come through Nessa.
My governess had come with a letter of introduction signed by his royal laziness for the sake of certainty and Lymon had not argued her duties as she began setting up my luggage throughout the apartments and the adjoining servant's quarters. I suspected that the poor girl would be working my entire household well into the night.
I chuckled before making sure that everything was in order while Clearsky curled up next to the bed.
Nodding to myself once I was certain that all was in order, I dug through my pack a dug up two of my last acquisitions before leaving King's Landing. A touch unusual for a child but so worth the trouble.
I heated the ivory-coloured wax stick over the candle a dripped some judiciously on each folded-up letter before stamping them with my seal.
I smiled with a bit too much pride at seeing my own seal, a white dragon's head with its teeth bared. It had seemed appropriate to make use of the pendants as the basis for my seal, a quiet reaffirmation of the identity I was constructing for myself.
Before turning in for the night I made the mistake of flipping over the first few pages of Laenor's gift. A detailed discussion on Valyrian Theology which was apparently quite the rare piece, written by some old Maester.
A mistake in retrospect since my dreams that night went into full 'apocalypto' mode.
Last edited: Mar 23, 2018
Have a nice day!
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#439
Tirion
I wonder about Nessa. If she was a wetnurse, she must have been pregnant once, yet she is unmarried and no kid is mentioned.
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Mar 23, 2018
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#440
sxeron10
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Tirion said:
I wonder about Nessa. If she was a wetnurse, she must have been pregnant once, yet she is unmarried and no kid is mentioned.
Medieval health standards aren't really... suited for childbirth.
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