Mid 281 False Spring
"High in the halls of the kings who are gone, Jenny would dance with her ghosts …"
I'll hand it to Rhaegar, the man knew how to format his songs so that they drew the female audience into the protagonist role. Every girl who heard them easily slipped into the role of Jenny of Oldstone, that fantasy that was reality in the form of a smallfolk girl taming the heart of the crown prince. The fact that the singer himself is another crown prince greatly enhanced the illusion.
Lyanna Stark wasn't the only wet eye in view, as many of the women and a small number of men felt the tone of the song resonate with their tear ducts. Or perhaps it is simply due to the otherworldly appearance of the man. After seeing Rhaegar with my own eyes the Doctrine of Exceptionalism seems less like some legalese to allow royal incest and more like common sense. Not like other men indeed, but perhaps if he was like other men, like me specifically, Elia wouldn't look so haggard carrying his next child.
They say the best vengeance is living your life well. I find that revenge is the best revenge, but that sudden rush of schadenfreude when you see your ex struggling is a competing form of satisfaction. Absolutely petty of me, but this world operates on petty logic and separating oneself from that invites disaster.
In the spirit of pettiness, when the applause for the prince's performance finally began to die down, I replaced the methodical and demanding plucking of the high harp with low twang of my large six string. The jarring transition took my audience by surprise, little did they know I would be breaking all the rules of high society music tonight, not only assailing their ears with the low class sounds of guitar, but singing a song about personal feelings and subjective experience rather than a poetic lease on history. Absurd.
"Used to spend my nights out in a taproom
Liquor was the only love I've ever known…"
Though my song of alcoholism and love stung the sensibilities of my audience, I saw a number of faces that got behind the idea.
"You're as smooth as Arbor Gold
You're as sweet as strawberry wine
You're as warm as a cup of mulled red…"
A cry of 'What a woman!' came from Robert Baratheon and with the final discordant note, the man had tears in his eyes as he pounded his meaty palms together. 'What a woman!' he shouted again as most people stared at him. I choose to believe they were in awe of the only man intelligent enough to appreciate the song so vocally.
Despite the general silence of the listeners I raised my guitar in triumph and announced, "Thank you Westeros, I'll be here all week!"
After a victory lap around our small section of this massive hall I sat down to a champion's reception of people looking at me like I've lost my mind.
"You've been working on that… for three years." Ulfric grimaced and looked away from me, flinching away from the cringe, "And that's all you had."
"Took big balls to get up there and do that, Dad." Galmar added with a nod of solidarity, "To go up after arguably the most highly trained harpist and vocalist in the Seven Kingdoms and put on such a pedestrian performance. I don't think I could have done that even if I had the skills to do that. Incredible."
"That was incredible!" shouted Bobby B as he muscled in on our table, putting two cups down on the table and filling them with wine before grabbing both, "Was she really… all that?"
If my performance pulled a pall over the local celebration, Robert's loud voice asking if the Crown Prince's wife is really all that put the festivities on ice. I could feel every ear in range turning for this juicy piece of drama, the kind that gets a man the lethal enmity of the royal family.
"She came into my life at a time when I wasn't afraid to feel." I answered with a nod.
"Oh wow." Robert nodded drunkenly, "What does that mean?"
"It means timing is everything." I told him as I poured two cups for myself taking them in hand, "And I say it's time to party!" I foisted my cups into the air and yelled, "Wubba lubba dub-dub!"
My seemingly festive battle cry roused the spirits of the nearby revelers and the drinking and dancing resumed. I partook in both, often at the same time, as it takes a significant load of alcohol to keep a four hundred pound man buzzed. Eventually I took a break, sitting with Brandon and Eddard Stark.
The huddled conversation between the brothers opened up when I neared and Brandon motioned for me to sit closer to them.
"Jorah, my brother and I are of two minds on something." Brandon declared slightly louder than he should have, going well with his flushed face and slightly slowed tongue, "Help us solve this problem."
"Ask her to dance." I headed them off causing both brothers to raise their eyebrows in disguise.
"Were we speaking that loud?" Eddard sighed and put a hand on his face.
"No." I shrugged, "But what else could a notable extroverted brother and his notable introverted brother be split on at such an event."
"Obviously we were discussing naming my first son after my beloved little brother." Brandon smiled widely, smugly even, at his contrarian statement.
"Pretty sure some Wintertown whore beat you to it." I chuckled and Eddard's mouth pulled down into a frown.
"Have a care, Lord Mormont, such things are not to be discussed in polite company." Ned leaned forward with a face hewn from stone, reminding me of his father greatly in appearance.
"Ack, lad." I spat, "Marvelous trick there. Your Northman mouth opened and Valeman words came out. Remember that being a Lord of the North is about more than praying in front of trees."
"Peace, peace." Brandon mediated between us, "Let us return to the matter at hand. More like the lady at hand as you rightly guessed."
"Ashara Dayne."
"Alright, now I know you were eaves dropping." Brandon crossed his arms over his chest in a huff.
"You and every other group of huddled up lads in this hall are all talking the same conversation." I rebuffed him, "All wanting to be the man who sweeps the most beautiful woman in Westeros off her feet."
"And all have been rejected so far." Ned dismissed his chances due to the wave of rejected suitors Ashara sent away this evening.
"Not all." Brandon denied his brother's dismissal.
"All men close in relationship with her brother." I informed the slightly inebriated brother.
"Aye, she'll want nothing from me." Ned once again dismissed his chances.
"Wrong." I denied his dismissal, "If you think she wants nothing from you, then you know nothing, Ned Stark."
Both brothers looked upon me in shock at that statement.
"What could Ashara Dayne possibly want from a second son of the North?" Ned scoffed, an obvious sign of a man knowing nothing.
"You forget just how influential your father has become these last few years." I informed the naïve young man, "The Starks have close ties with three Great Houses currently. She's tied deeply to the Crown Prince, and that man wants that influence at his side."
The basic level politics left the pair confused, and I shook my head in disappointment, "Go over to her and ask to dance. She will say yes."
"Well, what are you waiting for?" Brandon wheedled his brother to get into the game.
Ned looked at the pair of us like we were enjoying a joke at his expense, but the peer pressure carried the day and he rose to his feet, slowly walking to the most beautiful woman in Westeros like she stood at the execution block sword in hand. Brandon and I both cheered loudly when he took her to the dance floor.
We all made merry that evening until the announcement of the arrival of King Aerys II Targaryen.
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