Chapter Text
I stared intently at my target as it approached. Slowly, carefully, checking for any weakness. Focus. Everything around was quiet, as I stepped forward, ensuring no way to approach me without coming right at me. Thrust up, thrust down. Hit the target's knee. Shield dropped, then, a final thrust to the throat.
"Dead!" the Master-at-Arms called. I sighed and took off the padded helmet I'd been given, before offering the poor guardsman a hand. He didn't take it, but he at least acknowledged me with a nod. I quickly handed the Master-at-Arms the prop spear and left to a small side room to remove the padding I wore. Once I was in normal clothes, I made my way up to the garden.
In the months since I'd ordered it started, the garden had been completely redone. All of the plants were in ordered sections, divided neatly by dirt pathways, and a small fence marked off where I wanted to place a godswood eventually. There were a few small trees planted, but it would take years before they would offer any shade, and it would take at least a few more months to make the arrangements for another weirwood sapling to be sent. At least when it was done, it would provide some nice shade from the summer sun.
I stretched as I sat down on the stone bench that had been placed here for quiet reading. The days were starting to get a bit shorter, so it was about halfway through the year. It didn't make any sense, but the seasons didn't seem to follow the planet's solar cycle, which seemed to be the exact same as Earth's. I wasn't positive on that, I hadn't had too much time to observe the sky, but the seasons definitely didn't change properly. It was definitely hotter or colder depending on what part of the year it was, but it never got any colder than it was on a mild spring day back home.
But, all I'd ever really known was summer. It had been summer since 99 AC, and almost 8 years of summer was already pushing it— it was nearly as long as the canon Long Summer. I'd been born near the beginning of spring, so I would see my first winter soon enough.
"Prince Lucerys!" Damn, right as I was getting to a good train of thought. I held my tongue and responded as I was trained to, turning to greet the servant with a smile.
"Yes?" I asked. The servant swiftly gave a short bow, before reporting.
"Prince Daemon has summoned you, he's in the Painted Chamber," he said. I nodded and motioned for him to be on his way. After another bow, he turned and ran. I brushed off my pants and stood, making my way to the staircase that would take me to the Stone Drum. Father doesn't summon me that often. Usually only when he wants me to be aware of something… why he still hasn't named me his cupbearer, I don't know. Does he still hold out hope that Viserys will accept me as a cupbearer, when Rhae has already been named to the position?
I climbed the stairs, my contemplation tuning me out from the entire world around me, until I finally reached the Chamber of the Painted Table. As the servant had said, Father was there, along with Maester Elwyn, who carried something covered in… leather, maybe? I didn't know.
"Lucerys," Father said, beckoning me over. I quickly moved over to him. "We have received two pieces of information. One is from the citadel," he gestured, as Elwyn removed the leather, to reveal a bird cage, containing a white raven. "Our long summer has come to an end, it seems. Autumn has begun. Your first, I believe." I nodded.
"I was born at the start of Spring," I said, before looking away. Elwyn threw the cover back over the cage, as the raven cawwed.
"Sil! Sil!" it cawwed. "Ver! Ver!" I looked up at Father, who gestured to Elwyn.
"He has a silver chain; I said the word, and the raven repeats it," he explained. That… ugh, that made sense. The mundane answers were the only ones I got recently.
"And the other piece of information?" I asked. Father picked up a letter and unfolded it.
"A signed agreement by the Prince of Pentos, affixed with his personal seal and that of the Pentoshi Council, to provide support – money and connections with sellswords and sellsails – to endeavor in the Stepstones, and to hire sellswords to harass the Disputed Lands," he said. "In exchange, of course, we'll give them favorable customs dues." I shrugged. That made sense.
"Any word from Volantis?" I asked. I'd suggested reaching out to Volantis, to distract the Three Daughters on another front, and to my shock Father had agreed.
"Nothing," Father said after a moment, walking down the Painted Table to the Broken Arm of Dorne. "And Dorne's Prince is aging, unwilling to take risks, even when given offers of dominion over Sunstone and waxing about the evils of slavery and the need to eliminate it."
"And what of support from the rest of the Seven Kingdoms?" I asked. Father seemed to smile as he ascended to the raised seat to look over the table.
"Lord Velaryon's efforts have borne fruit. Many second sons, hedge knights, and glory seekers have shown interest," he explained, as I climbed up to join him. "Sellsails have already begun mustering along the Braavosi coast, and the Shipwrights of Hull have laid down numerous new keels, and the entire Velaryon Merchant Fleet is being armed to assault the isles," he continued. "The Ironborn have also given assent to attack the Three Whores, so long as they get to keep the bounty they collect." I shuddered at the thought that their 'bounty' probably included humans.
"The Sealord has been hard about the rest of the terms of his agreement since he handed over the Bride Price. I will go to him and… correct his assumptions—" he began, before I interrupted him.
"Try not to burn Braavos to the ground, we still need them," I said. "The Volantenes would be of great help, send another letter, mayhaps with an offer of a personal meeting." I could almost sense the eye roll.
"The Volantenes have no desire for a personal meeting. What have I to offer them but what the Velaryons have already given Braavos?" Father said. "I'll move forward without them. They will make for good allies, but I suppose we must prove worthy to back—"
"And not just hot-headed idiots with dragons," I finished. "The Stepstones need to be held, and be stable, for it to be profitable to assist you." It was only at this time that I looked back down at the table, and noticed something rather obvious that I should have seen earlier.
"Father, what is that?" I said, pointing.