Mid 281 False Spring
They say there is a dignity to royalty, a majesty, that precludes the likelihood of assassination. If you were to point a weapon at a king or a queen your hands would shake as though palsied. That the sight of royalty would cause you to dismiss all thoughts of bloodshed and you would stand in awe. The Crown Prince had some of this shine and used it to gain friends and influence people throughout the evening.
All the stability Rhaegar bought the dynasty with this performance crumbled the moment Aerys II Targaryen entered the halls to the sound of trumpets. With just his wretched appearance, Aerys sealed the fate of the ruling house of Westeros. The conditioning of three hundred years of occupation fell away like scales from the eyes of the assembled lords at the vision of a man with uncut hair and nails, like the man was released from imprisonment just this evening, and not four years ago. They didn't even need his to open his mouth and reveal his rapid manic depressive psychotic mood swings to know that this was a man unconscionable to follow, though throughout the night the man put that on display enough to make my uncouth performance look like a passing fart in the wind compared to an explosive shit in the bedsheets.
The King's contribution to the evening came with the formal induction ceremony of Ser Jaime Lannister into the Kingsguard. Each Lord present wondered at the spectacle 'If Tywin Lannister could lose his son and heir like this, how easy would it be for me to lose mine?'
Though no one had yet put their feelings into conscious thought, the rebellion was on.
While all around felt a deep dread at the sight of the sovereign, I didn't bother with concern for the state of the union, and instead focused on making sure that whoever paid for this event - something I am not actually certain of - pays out the nose for it. At the high tables wine and food appeared as fast as it could disappear, and between myself, Bobby B, and my four sons by Alyssa, we downed enough resources to starve out a northern noble house in Winter.
Despite how seamlessly our future king seemed to mingle with my family, I had to watch the man like a hawk. Not for his own misconduct, no, but for his virtue. Aella, my only surviving daughter from my marriage, possessed all the precociousness common in this setting, and looked at Bobby B like she wanted to hogtie the poor man and make him squeal like a pig. What's left of the American in me should clutch his pearls at the idea of my twelve year old daughter looking at a man like that, but the Westerosi in me was more concerned for the man's welfare. Bobby B may think he's a big dick boy, but Aella grew up around Maege and her brood. As such I intervened.
With great decisiveness I stood so suddenly it attracted the gazes of all around, and with hands quick like a rattlesnake I snatched Aella's ear and walked her out of the great hall. Some public humiliation will teach her to mess with the inputs for my war. Aella finally pulled away from me and the girl looked at me with a face of pure hatred. Coming from a girl nearing her mother's height and with the customary Mormont thickness it was far more intimidating than anything I'd seen before from a woman without a gun in hand. Unfortunately for her, I have a lot in common physically with silverback gorillas and thus the intimidation check failed.
"Control your frothing loins, girl." I chastised, "You know not what you endanger."
"Afraid all your important friends won't think you're so great if your daughter's a whore?" the girl spat with all the tonal venom of a cobra.
"If you desire to ruin your life with promiscuity, then do so." I growled down at her, "Live your life as you wish, but know that I brought you into this world, and if I must I will take you out of it. You will not foil my plans."
"Plans? Plans!" Aella screamed at me, trying to push me with all her force, "Your only plan for me is to get rid of me as soon as you can! Sell me off to that baby whale of a Manderly so you can pat yourself on the back while you sail off and ignore all the other little girls you never were a father too!"
"And you seem to be interested in making that harder for me to do." I accused the girl causing her eyes to go wide.
"You admit it. That we mean nothing to you other than what you can get for us! Another product to sell!" she shrieked and pounded her fists on my chest.
Her outburst was swiftly settled by the back of my hand and as Aella picked herself up off the ground I addressed her through clenched teeth, "What do you think I receive from a closer relationship with a House on the other side of the continent from me, girl? Nothing. I chose the Manderley's for you because they are the only house in the North that has the means to keep you in the lifestyle you are accustomed to. If you wish for something different, then you will wait until I say the time is right. On my time, girl! Not yours!"
Aella was too tough to break down into sobbing, but she now knew fear of me and nodded her head in acceptance while saying, "Yes, father."
They say raising girls is easier, and tonight I discovered that for myself. I beat the crap out of my sons regularly and they are still stupid. One little slap and the girl gets with the program. If raising boys was this easy I'd be in charge of a company of all-stars, legends walking the earth. Instead I have to spend my days wondering about what fresh fuck up I'll have to fix next. I put my arm around Aella's shoulder and thanked God for her as I led us back to our tent to sleep on this good talk.
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In one of the innumerable dark nooks of Harrenhal far away from anyone else, the vigorous sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and barely bit back moans drowned out the echoes of the long dead as yet another amorous couple went at it like animals. The young man looked remarkably like Jorah Mormont at fourteen except his long swept back hair sported the two stupid looking side braids that marked him as Kodlak Mormont, the quiet and unassuming brother of the four, the Ned of the bunch.
Ned he be in the streets, but Brandon he be in the sheets as the brick shithouse of a young man delivered thunderous thrusts to the young woman whom he kept from collapsing with his steely arms. Turning in his embrace, the young woman revealed herself to be…
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A fury of aneurism inducing intensity awakened me at the sight of Lyanna Stark's face, broking me free of the green dream and I rose from my bedding with my hands extended as if to wring the neck of the idiot boy foiling my plans.
Kodlak? Really? That's the boy that gets it in with the snow princess? Is this some kind of incest thing with the similarities to her brother, Ned? My mind raced with questions, while at the same time another train of thought dragged at a crawl from excess rage. The mix of the two prevented me from truly thinking about anything at all, just leaving me on my ass wondering what just happened.
After all, it's the punches you don't see coming that knock you out.
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I'm having fun here at Harrenhal.
In other news, I've come to the decision to rewrite my Naruto story at some point in the future. I could deliver the planned bad end, but honestly don't want too. I'd rather restart, narrow down Kiba's focus, shonen him up a bit, and make something less cynical about the setting.
That story was ultimately a palate cleanser for me while dealing with the frustrations of 'Actually Invincible', and it shouldn't have been written in the spirit that it was. I think fanfiction should be written from a place of love for the fandom. Seasons 3 and 4 of Young Justice were so awful that it actually derailed my plans for the 'Actually Invincible' final arc and I had to lateral to Justice League content to get me back in saddle. It was a rough time and 'Son of Jiraiya' came off the lesser for it.
So I will be rewriting that one, possibly condensing the first version of the story into a really long Auxiliary chapter.
More pressing is my need to revise the chapters for 'Lizard Daddy Primarch'. On a reread it feels like the flow is more fucked than a pornstar, and on top of that I need to make some shifts in Angron's narration to show the influence of the Emperor coming through. There are also wild inconsistencies between Angron's first two chapters, and I need to scale down the size of the Nucerian city states considering they spent years trying to put down Angron's rebellion. Sounds like I should scale them to actual historical Rome size rather than space Rome size.
But those will have to wait as I keep working on ASoIaF.
You can support me and my family at
ko - fi . com / jmanm