Mid 281 False Spring
"You're a madman." Ulfric declared with his face in his hands as my kids sat around me, greatly upset by the view behind the curtain.
"Why would you want something so horrible?" Aella wept softly.
"Children. You all hear about the endless destruction of Westerosi lives and get hung up on that detail. It causes you to forget the big picture. Big piles of money." I corrected my family's wrong think.
"I know I should be excited for the big piles of money…" Galmar started then frowned, "but it feels like something is missing from this whole plan…"
"Empathy? Ethics?" Ulfric offered.
"Nah, not that… tiddies." Galmar suddenly nodded like a boy excited by his own thoughts, "Every time you go to war you come back with more tiddies, but I did not hear the words 'rape' nor 'pillage' in any of that explanation. If we aren't taking everything from the enemy, then what's the point of going to war at all?"
"Galmar, my son." I nodded as I put a hand on his shoulder, "Discretion is about as important as it gets. Something your younger brother never learned, and apparently you didn't either." I looked around at the rest of the kids, "Do any of you idiots know how important discretion is? Here's a bit of hyperbole to kind of get a feel for the concept. Discretion is seeing a shark and not sticking your cock into its mouth."
"So discretion is knowing when not to stick your cock into something?" Galmar asked and I nodded.
"That is a good starting point, but it gets even deeper. Discretion is about avoiding bad situations." I explained to the thicker than pig shit boy, "It is an offspring of discernment and wisdom, and I had hoped that I had instilled in all of you a basic understanding of the idea. This harkens back to the teaching of not shitting where you eat, but we take it a step further and not shitting where our neighbors eat."
"Okaaay…" Galmar drawled, "But if we are going to fight people, then they aren't our neighbors, they are the enemy, and so we should be able to take their women and stuff."
"I picked the wrong word to explain." I shook my head, "Discrimination. There are different types of enemies, and you treat them differently from each other. Knowing which is which is discernment. Knowing when to switch your treatment is discretion. The three D's of strategy Discernment, Discrimination, Discretion."
"Three D's, got it." Galmar nodded, "How do I apply the Three D's?"
"I'm glad you asked, son. It shows that you are capable of learning." I patted his shoulder and continued, "Take my dealings with the Wildlings for example. I discerned the nature of the enemy through my own experience, the experiences of others, and history. The Wildlings throughout history have attacked us without provocation, committing murder, rape, and the taking of thralls. This is a hated and savage enemy. Discrimination is knowing that this enemy needs to be destroyed whenever possible. Discretion is knowing you can get away with it."
"Ahhh… that's good." Galmar put on his best understanding face to trick me into believing he understood.
It failed.
"The enemy of discernment is ignorance, the enemy of discrimination is naivety, the enemy of discretion is arrogance." I explained to the wider audience, "Which of these is the most damning?"
After considering it for a while, Ulfric answered, "Discretion and arrogance."
"Very good." I complimented him for remembering the order of lethality of the capital vices, "A naïve fool can survive in the world, but arrogance will always catch up to you. Arrogance prevents you from seeing the obvious destruction awaiting you on your path. In strategy, as in all things, one of the fundamental questions is, 'Should I do this?'. That answer is only truly available to those who can wield all three D's. That's why I have pushed you all so hard in your education and training, so that you can know yourselves and your enemies. That is how I have revealed my love to you all."
It didn't take long for my children to respond.
"All those who still think Father is terrible father." Aella raised the motion.
"Aye" resounded the answer.
At least my children understand a greater unity.
Our place at the feasting hall that night shifted due to my victory in the archery contest, moving right to the high table with the royal family, by request of King Aerys. The joy in the man's eyes at the obvious discomfort of his son in my presence radiated just below the requirement to produce visible light. I reveled in that small injury to the man, he may have got the girl because of his rich and connected father, but the shadow of my cock blackens their marriage even if I should die. A phantom weight resting on his shoulder made heavier by proximity.
Feel every ounce of it, you elf looking fop.
"These are your children?" Aerys mused in confusion while looking at my pack of kids, "Are we sure they aren't your siblings?"
"I was married at eleven, your grace." I explained the issue obviously spinning the man's few remaining cognitive gears overly so.
"Hmph. Northmen." The man chuckled and then shifted as his eyes drifted down and to the left, "I have plans to build a second Wall, you know?"
"It will be all the easier since we drove all the hostile wildlings many miles from the first, and hunted many of the great beasts as well." I continued the conversation with the madman whose face lit up.
"Yes, now is the time!" he cried and turned to his white armored Kingsguard, "Write that down, young Jaime. It is finally time to achieve my great ambition in the North."
"Right away, your grace." Jaime smiled awkwardly at the man who suddenly stared at the sword hanging from Jaime's waist.
"Was your sword not supplied to you by Lord Mormont?" the man demanded with a suddenly aggressive tone, "Well?"
"It was, your grace." Jaime responded as he joined Rhaegar in the firmly discomforted group at this table.
"Well? Thank the man already!" Aerys ordered.
"Thank you, Lord Mormont." Jaime curtly obeyed.
"Like you mean it, young Jaime!" Aerys commanded the boy.
"Thank you, Lord Mormont, for supplying my sword to me. I am immensely grateful." Jaime Lannister bowed his head briefly to me as he grit his teeth in anger.
"Look at that! Manners!" the King announced in good cheer, his emotional game of musical chairs landing on happiness again.
"Tell me, Elia, was your first son not of a Northern look?" the man glowered as he once more shifted moods between sentences.
"He is, your grace." my former paramour spoke for the first time this evening.
"What's wrong with your seed, boy? That my granddaughter reeks of Dornishness." Aerys verbally came down on his son in fury.
The Crown Prince rallied his faculties and responded, "Baelor Breakspear had a Dornish mean, yet he fulfilled his duties to our family nobly."
"Well said." Aerys calmly replied.
We spent the rest of the night with front row seats to the emotional rollercoaster that brought down the last Dragon Lords.
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I'm trying to figure out a new writing schedule now that my families needs have shifted. JManM's Wife does not have sympathy for 'creative writing as the reason I can't watch one of the kids.
Sad face.
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