Chapter Text
A loud SNAP broke me out of my thoughts as I stared out the window. I groaned. This was the third time I'd zoned out today alone. Ever since I'd come back on Vermithor, I could think of nothing but flying… yet, I'd been stuck inside for the past week, as I'd both burned and cut my arms by pressing them so hard onto Vermithor's scales. Nothing got infected, thank the gods, but it could easily have gotten bad.
Even still, my mind was called back to the sky. Though, as it stood, Grand Maester Runciter was attempting to teach me something with mathematics, involving an abacus and a chalkboard. The Valyrians had invented Roman Numerals in this world, to no real surprise; but, apparently the Westerosi had adopted them, having no numbers to use on their own, besides the crazy shorthand used by Maesters. Ugh. I could do maths with them, but it wasn't something I wanted to do. Three years of doing it in Latin Class had been enough.
"Please, Your Grace," Runciter said. "Princess Rhaenyra finished already. You can be studious when you want to be. You and Elwyn created that device that still has the Conclave chittering about, and I know you have others in your head, so why can you not do simple sums for me?" Hearing those words, something in me snapped. I grabbed the chalk and stared down at what Runciter had written on the slate.
The Sum of CDXCV and XVIII, it said. I took a breath and converted the numbers. 495 and 28. Simple stacking addition, then. Thirteen, carry the one. Twelve, carry the one again. 523. Wait, why did I need to set that up? Ugh, I'm an idiot! Overcomplicating things again! I could have just taken five from the 28 and gotten the number easily! I took a deep breath to steady myself and converted the number back. 500, that's D. 20, XX, and 3, III. DXXIII.
I slid the slate over to the Grand Maester, a shit-eating grin on my face. "Will that be all, Grand Maester?" He gave me a stiff nod, and I turned and walked out the door, mentally punching myself.
Stupid, Stupid! You shouldn't have done that! I screamed in my head. You've already screwed up several times with your dreams and your language, and now you brought out fucking Arabic Numerals! You weren't supposed to bring that out until you had a household of your own!
I tried to ignore my internal screaming at how badly I'd screwed up, I continued my way through the castle. I arrived back at the apartments and changed my clothes into my riding clothes, and then ran to where Sister Beth stayed. I simply told her that we were going to need Maester Alesander for the notes, and then I went off to where Father had told me to wait. The Citadel had sent two younger Maesters, and left Elwyn around as well; I knew they were supposed to be there to get reads on me, but I didn't really care. The entire continent could know my personality so long as what I wanted got disseminated.
I arrived, only to the fact that various guards had turned the yard into a practice area for weapons. I looked around, and stood shocked for a few moments, before just sighing and accepting it. They'd probably move when Father got back. He was probably taking Rhae out flying first.
After a few minutes, I walked over to the weapons storage and retrieved my small bow, which rested next to Rhae's. They were almost the same, bar the simple reversal. I walked up over to the archery targets, and began shooting at them. Thankfully, the others gave me a decent berth, facing the other way and all. For a time, the world seemed to vanish, there was just me, the target, and my bow.
Each shot started the same; grab one arrow, close my right eye, draw back, and attempt to hit whatever point I was aiming for. Every ten shots, I would check the wind direction and adjust accordingly. I continued to ignore everything around me, as the target became filled with more and more arrows. Finally, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I looked up to see Father, standing behind me.
"Lucerys, we must be going," he said, in a voice that welcomed no argument. I nodded and handed my bow and quiver off to one of the servants. "Your cousin is quite adept at reading what Silverwing wishes and how to fly her. Now, it is time for you to do the same."
We soon arrived at the large open-air stables where our dragons resided. In contrast, Caraxes was happily snacking on a pile of mutton. I looked about, and saw the hulking form of Vermithor away from the others, eating away at his own pile of mutton. He was already saddled, but didn't seem to mind. My great-grandfather had ridden him for nearly 60 years, after all, and he'd only died a year and a half ago. He'd probably spent most of his life with a saddle on. Silverwing was half-asleep not far away.
We waited for the dragons to finish eating before getting their attention. Father had carefully shown me the proper method. I walked a far distance from the other dragons excluding Vermithor and threw my whip up in the air, snapping it loudly. Vermithor immediately lifted his head up, and made his way over to me. I smiled at him and reached up my hand to scratch behind his neck as best as I could.
A few moments later, Father came up behind me and helped me into the saddle, helping me with the chains and showing me where to wrap them around myself and latch them, as well as tying the whip around my hand.
"All Dragon Riders have to do this when they first learn," Father explained. "You'll grow out of it, we all do eventually." I nodded and smiled. Secure in the fact that I was as safe as anyone could be whilst on the back of a living weapon of mass destruction, he made an about face and marched over to his own dragon, swiftly mounting Caraxes and directing him next to Vermithor.
"When on the ground," he called, "snap the whip in the air above his head. It will tell him to take off." I nodded and, in a swift motion, cracked the whip above Vermithor's head. The dragon pushed himself to his feet and began moving forward, jolting me about until I grabbed the front of the saddle to steady myself. With steady flaps, Vermithor lifted off the ground and took to the air. Holding my breath, I kept my eyes open this time, and couldn't help but laugh as we rose higher and higher. Caraxes soon joined, circling around and gaining air, almost forming two halves of a circle if not for the height difference.
After several minutes, I could see the Dragonmont below, still smoking, as I snapped the whip again, directing Vermithor to stop rising and instead begin flying straight ahead. Father flew up beside me and flew close enough to call to me.
"We will fly once around the Dragonmont as your first test!" he called, before ordering Caraxes to dive, speeding off toward the volcano. I laughed out loud and ordered Vermithor to dive as well. I called out to Father as Vermithor flew past Caraxes, sticking my tongue out as him, setting off a race around the Dragonmont.
I lost. Badly.
I wasn't sure if it was my lack of skill or just Caraxes' speed, but Father beat me without any question. We stayed in the air for several more practice maneuvers, ensuring I knew the different commands for Vermithor with the whip… including barrel rolls. Because those were definitely necessary. Totally. Vermithor definitely seemed to enjoy them, maybe only because they drove me insane.
Eventually, we finally landed again, and the dragons were each given another sheep, after first making sure Sheepstealer wouldn't just snatch them. Then, exhausted, we made our way back to the castle. My arms felt about ready to fall off, the bandages around them were thoroughly soaked in sweat; I'd have to ask Maester Elwyn to put new ones on.
Unfortunately, my hope of relaxing for the day was interrupted as, apparently, Grand Maester Runciter wanted to talk to me in the Chamber of the Painted Table. He also wanted Alesander, Elwyn, and Sister Beth to come with me. I prepared myself internally. I'd known this was coming since I started writing down stuff, but I didn't think it'd be this soon. I just hoped Maester Alesander had his draft together.
I entered the Chamber of the Painted Table, to find that I was the last one there. Inside, Grand Maester Runciter, Maesters Alesander and Elwyn, along with Sister Beth and… Lyonel Strong? What was he doing here?
All were seated around a small end portion of the Painted Table. I slowly made my way over and sat down, bowing my head respectfully. After a pregnant silence, I looked up at the Grand Maester.
"You summoned me, Grand Maester?" I asked. I immediately mentally slapped my forehead as Runciter looked very uncomfortable. It was extremely bad form to imply that he had summoned me, as only the King was supposed to be able to do that. Damn these Westerosi social norms.
"I asked you here, You Grace, because of the… odd numberings you gave me," he said carefully. I nodded at Maester Alesander, who pulled out his notes and placed them before the Grand Maester. He looked down at the papers and began to nod.
"They're Qaathi, Grand Maester," he began. "Qarth still uses a similar one, but I found this variant to only be speculated. How our young princeling learned of it, I can't even theorize. It's a simple tens-based system, and takes far less ink." Runciter kept reading. After several long moments, he looked back up.
"I believe I see where you are coming from," the Grand Maester began slowly. "And I laud you for your creativity. However, I do not see what this offers us that we cannot do already." Alesander looked at me and I smiled. He then produced a short letter.
"I presented it to Archmaester Vaegon when I was summoned to Oldtown," he said. "Prince Lucerys gave me the idea, and I crafted it finely." Good lie. I thought. I completely created it for this world and he agreed to spread it. Glad Uncle Vaegon liked it. "He stated that while he personally disliked how it looked compared to our own Valyrian Numbers, it could be written much faster and with less ink, as well as being simpler to keep track of. Unlike the shorthand we use for ravens, it would require no conversion, saving even more time."
Runciter continued reading the thesis and went quiet as the hulking form of Lyonel Strong approached Alesander and me.
"Prince Lucerys," he said, crossing his arms down at me. I gulped and looked up at him. This man was terrifying. Even knowing that he was actually a nice guy, he certainly didn't mind turning on the intimidation.
"Yes, Lord Strong?" I asked. He walked closer, and stopped just short of putting a hand on my shoulder. Touching a member of the royal family is punishable with the removal of that hand… I swiftly remembered.
"I've seen that look many times when my son says something," he explained, leaning back on the Painted Table. "Tell me the truth; it wasn't just an idea of yours, you made it. I still have friends at the Citadel who tell me about your 'forceps,' after all." My heart started pounding in my ears. Oh no… no, no, no, no no! I was so stupid. Lyonel had studied at the Citadel and presumably still had friends there. And despite his brutish looks, he was one of the smartest minds of this era— three links of steel, one of iron, one of yellow gold, and one of copper. Law, War, Economics, and History. And he'd figured me out with just a look. My mind was bouncing about, no one thought able to take hold—
I suddenly felt a hand touch my shoulder.
"Breath, young one," I heard the Master of Laws say calmly. I looked up at him and realized I was trembling. I gave a hiccup and looked away from him. These are people, not just words on a page. I reminded myself. He's a father of four children. It dawned on me that he just saw a scared child. I guess… I guess I was one. Even with all my memories… I was still a child.
Holding my breath, I nodded.
"Yes… I made it… Maester Alesander made it look nice; Uncle Vaegon knows, but no others," I said, taking deep breaths to stop the shaking. "They truly are made from Qaathi numbers, but… I saw them in my head. It wasn't my dreams. I don't know how or why," I said. "Please, don't tell anyone, some look away or look scared, I don't wanna be alone!" Worst part was, that wasn't even false. I'd seen the worried looks people gave while talking to me, or that many tried to avoid talking to me if they could. All were adults, of course. Kids loved being around me, because I could run and play and had all kinds of random games from Earth with me. It's mostly hopscotch… not sure why most of the kids liked that.
I suddenly realized my mind was running again. Why, why did that have to come with me? I hoped the autism hadn't come as well; that would be hell to explain, considering that it was seen as mental sickness before the 1980s. Finally, Lord Lyonel snapped me out of my thoughts.
"Calm yourself. Your House possesses a great many gifts, none of which should be borne by a child. You bear no blame," he said, as softly as a man like him could. I nodded, making sure the tears didn't come. I already heard whispers that I cried far too much at court, but it was hard to do; the emotions came naturally, and came even harder now, far more than they ever had back home. I breathed deeply again, before looking at the Master of Laws.
"What would you have me do?" I asked. "I can't… I can't claim these, not yet." Lord Strong ruffled my hair and then backed away. He thought for several moments before answering
"Be on guard, and start smaller. Items that might be said to be accidents," he said. "You may leave now, Prince Lucerys, we'll do the rest." I nodded, almost in a daze. I was almost on autopilot, leaving the room and making my way to my rooms, and eventually just collapsing on to my bed, not knowing what the next day would bring.
Of course, the night wouldn't be so merciful. I dreamt of a great titan standing on a cliffside, hiding within his hands three dragon eggs encased in rock. Within his hands, they began to crack and hatch, bursting forth three dragons as a star lit up bright red in the sky. And I awoke with a yelp.