Author's note: This is a House of Dragons fanfic, so expect R-18 themes. A fair warning to my readers.
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Even in my drunken haze, the memory of that incident in the field lingered, refusing to be drowned out by the wine in me.
"AH, AH, Ah, Yes. my Ser, have me."
"Haha."
"Fuck, Fuck, Fuck. Let me have it, Move."
"Asshole, wait for your turn."
"I am all yours, my dear Ser."
Looking at Beren and Huric fucking a whore together after their fight in the yard, I hoped all fights will be temporary like them.
"Together, let's taste the maiden's pleasure together."
"Yeah, one more drink. On my count, 3, 2. Now."
""Yessss.""
Just look at them. Huric and Beren fighting over Beren's hot mom are now sharing the same woman.
But before I could utter a word, Aeric shrugged me off and stormed away, his departure underlined by a look of resentment and betrayal
Maybe not every fight is temporary, especially in fights like mine and cousin Aeric. I don't know what Uncle is thinking, saying something drastic like that. Wars have been fought over less.
The consequences of such reasoning would lead to wars that would be remembered as tragic. Over the course of history, numerous cases of family disputes over status can be found - Greystark, Gardeners, Maegor, and others.
I couldn't help but ask myself again, What is uncle thinking?
While others drowned in curses and carnal pleasures in the corners of the Tavern, under the full moon, I couldn't shake the unease that gnawed at my gut.
As the clouds covered the moon, casting the world into darkness, chaos erupted with sudden ferocity.
BOOOM
Flames danced in the night, illuminating the horror unfolding before me as screams pierced the air, mingling with the shouts of battle.
"AHHH,"
"DIEEEE,"
CLANG
"BANG---AGH,"
"AHHHH,"
My senses sharpened, sobering me faster than any drink could. I ran out into the cold air that woke me up.
CRACKLE CRACKLE
The peaceful town that had welcomed us now lay in ruins, ravaged by attackers who showed no mercy as they plundered and pillaged.
I saw a woman being dragged out of her house, while a child's dead body hung on a spear, heads being cut to be played.
"Oh, Seven."
Madness, this is fucking madness.
NEIGH NEIGH
CLIP CLOP CLIP
CLOP
In the dim light seeping through the parting clouds, I spotted a group of horse riders thundering towards me, their meaning clear even from a distance.
My instinct kicked in, overriding any semblance of rational thought.
Without hesitation, I bolted back into the inn, the urgency of the situation cutting my haze of alcohol.
Wielding my sword with a determination born of desperation, I barged into the room where my friends slept, rousing them from their slumber with a barrage of punches and kicks.
THUCK
BANG BAM
"Get up!" I barked, the urgency in my voice cutting through the grogginess of sleep. "We're under attack!"
BANG
BANG
BANF
"Hurry, you lazy fools. I saw some soldiers go inside here."
"Fuck."
"Everyone together, 3, 2, 1."
CRACK BOOM
As the door splintered under the force of the attackers' blows. But the sight that greeted them was me with a sword gleaming in the dim light.
With a cocky grin, I called out, "Hello there!", my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Looks like you've got something there. Let me take care of that for you."
SLASH
With a swift motion, I brought my sword down on the nearest assailant, catching them off guard from the ambush, and cut through flesh and bone with brutal efficiency.
THUD
"Now there's nothing there," I declared, my tone tainted with violence. A kind I never knew I was capable of. As I stepped over the rolling head, leading the charge into the heart of the fray, "Fear our Thunder."
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As the first light of dawn broke across the horizon, I heaved with a mix of exhaustion and simmering anger. The events of the night had left me with emotions that I had trouble processing.
Looking at the crackling fire that is burning the town with many injuries, I don't know what to do in this situation.
NEIGH NEIGH
CLIP CLOP
CLIP
"I, your believer, pray for mercy on my enemy's souls, dear Seven. Because I won't."
"Hell, Yeah."
I lifted my sword and screamed out at the incoming cavalry, "Fear our thunder."
But, I got another response, "Fear our thunder."
THUD
I collapsed on the spot, looking at Lord Bracken and his reinforcements.
Uncle came down from the Horse, " Berek, take a squadron to bring the injured to an open place."
He just gave me a look and shouted, "Get up, boy! There is no time for rest."
Asshole.
I felt a pat on my back to see Aeric, who helped me up. Uncle looking at us both, " Start a fire from the other side of the fire's path. Let fire both sides fight until they die out. Aeric, you will wet the rest of the part of the Town from well water. We can't risk fire reigniting. "
I nodded at that. Better to sacrifice some part of the Town than risk a firestorm burning everything.
-
-
-
-
-
By the time the sun reached its zenith, we could contain the fires that had ravaged the town with everyone working together, though the scars of the night would linger for years to come.
Especially the scars of broken souls. Mothers with vacant eyes clutching their dead children haunted by memories of their bodies tainted under their dying screams.
This part of town will take seasons for the men to grow in number again. Bandits can 't do such senseless violence. They try to steal or kidnap. Destruction is not their primary intent.
Looking at the final embers of the night, these events are pure violent killing spree. Cruel and Barbaric, not even a hint of morals.
"May the Others take those infidels. So, Barbaric."
"I wish the Andals ended them."
The soldiers give a harsh glare towards the Blackwood territory, especially the ones doing the grim task of clearing away the debris, tending to the wounded and piling the bodies.
Poor Brener has it the worst. He had to find his Mother in -in-
ARGH
BURFF
BURFFF
The harsh scenes took away everything in my stomach and heart. Leaving me feeling empty.
The emptiness soon turned into anger.
With righteous anger, I sought Lord Bracken, my mind swirling with questions and accusations. I asked him, "When are we attacking the Blackwoods?"
To my shock and dismay, Lord Bracken denied any involvement in the attack, brushing off my accusations with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Now is not the time for such matters," he declared, his tone firm.
I bristled at his response, my frustration boiling over as I attempted to press him for more information. "Why? Everyone knows the-"
"HOSTER."
But my uncle's stern gaze silenced me with a single look, his expression leaving no room for argument.
Defeated, I glanced over at my friends, their faces mirroring my disbelief and discontent.
I was not alone in my disagreement with Lord Bracken's decision, but in the face of his authority, there was little we could do.
---
Kerith pointed out the obvious point. "You didn't listen to the order, did you?"
I nodded at that. "I didn't. Instead, I gathered my friends and went for an eye-to-eye plan. Back then, I was also young but had a lot of pride because of the constant compliments. A dangerous combination."
My apprentice bluntly said, "You were captured. It is not even a surprise, considering that Lord Blackwood must have tightened the defences in preparation."
"Yes, he did. I was foolish and got captured. I will not bore you with the minor details. The story continues after my capture."
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My mouth felt dry, my hungering stomach gnawing at me relentlessly. It had been days since I had last tasted food, and with each passing moment, my body seemed to grow weaker, consuming itself in a desperate bid for sustenance.
It was a cruel irony, one that echoed the lessons I had learned from the Maesters—how the body, deprived of nourishment, would eventually turn on itself.
CLANK CLANK
BANG
The heavy iron door of the cell swung open with a sudden burst of speed, the harsh clang echoing through the dimly lit chamber. My heart pounded in my chest as a member of the Blackwood clan strode in, his eyes glinting with something sinister as he brandished a dagger.
I braced myself for the onslaught, steeling my resolve against the pain that was sure to come.
GROAN
The blade struck home, leaving shallow wounds in its wake, but the agony was nothing compared to the torment that followed.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH,"
For days on end, the torture continued relentlessly, each fresh assault more brutal than the last.
At first, I raged against my captors, my indignation fueling my resistance.
BAM BAM
"You assholes, I will fucking kill you!"
"Fucking infidels."
SLASH
"Barbarians."
But as the days stretched into weeks, the pain wore me down, eroding my spirit until all that remained was a hollow shell of despair.
"Hey, asshole, get up. Scream some more. Ah! Scream already."
SLAP
SLAP
SLASH
Even as he cut my skin away bit by bit, I didn't scream. Because I couldn't. My throat tore away days ago.
SLAP
I felt him clutching my hair and forcing me to look at his face. "AH! I see you are already broken. Perhaps a dog eating your manhood was too much."
It was then, in the depths of my anguish, that I had a startling realization.
As I looked into the eyes of my tormentor, I saw not only hatred and cruelty but also a profound sense of desperation—a desperate need to lash out, to inflict pain upon another, to vent his suffering.
That realization crushed me, leaving me adrift in a sea of despair. For if such overwhelming despair consumed even my captors, what is the chance of them having any kindness towards me?
But just as I reached the brink of despair, a glimmer of hope appeared on the horizon. For the first time since my captivity began, my chains were unlocked.
"You think this is despair?" he taunted, his words dripping with venom. "You will understand despair after today."
With that ominous warning, he doused me in a foul-smelling liquid; the stench clinging to my raw skin.
I watched as he left the cell wide open, essentially releasing me from my captivity.
Confusion and fear gripped me as I stumbled out of the cell, my mind reeling from the things I had endured. But amidst the chaos and uncertainty, one thing was clear—I had survived, I was free and I would not let despair consume me.
----
"Despair consumed me," I confessed to my apprentice, my voice heavy with the weight of the memories that haunted me. "Even after I safely reached my home, Despair was the only thing I knew. Why do you think so?"
Kerith fell silent, his brow furrowing in deep concentration as he pondered my question. I could see the gears turning in his mind, dissecting the story I had recounted thus far.
To guide him, I offered a hint. "The reason is quite famous throughout the world," I prompted. "How about this? I'll allow you to ask or refer to whomever you wish. When your answer is correct, I'll continue the story."
But even as I spoke, I knew that Kerith's intellect would surpass my expectations. He was perceptive and quick-witted like that, with a knack for memorizing dry information.
And true to form, his answer was spot-on, sending me hurtling back into the depths of my past.
"Teacher, I am sorry," he began, his voice tinged with empathy. "Then it would be—"
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I don't know how or why I survived. Days blurred into nights as I stumbled through the wilderness. My only sustenance was the meagre plants and roots I could scrounge from the earth.
Some I recognized from my lessons with the Maester, but others were unfamiliar, leaving me to curse my ignorance in the days to come.
Each step was agony, hunger and exhaustion weakened my body. I walked on, driven by a desperate need to reach the safety of Bracken territory.
THUD
But even as I pressed forward, my strength waned, until finally, I collapsed beside a creek, my parched lips seeking solace in the cool water.
In my desperation, I ignored the proper precautions for consuming water after dehydration, a mistake that would haunt me in the days to come.
GULP GULP
GULP
I don't know how long I lay there, the world spinning in a blur around me. But eventually, I felt movement around me, hands lifting me gently from the ground.
"----Lord — Ho—er---Bracken--"
I felt disoriented as I was tossed around.
BUZZ
In a single blink, I saw my room at the Bracken keep. The familiar surroundings were a contrast to the harsh wilderness I had just endured.
As the afterimages of my parents, relatives, and friends danced before my eyes, I couldn't help myself from thanking the Seven.
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I screamed out in vehement hatred, scaring my acolyte, " I hate them. I hate their cruelty. I hate them a lot." Hoping they heard me, I screamed out, "If I ever find them, I will strangle the air out of them."
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Some unknown amount of time later, it was the rays of sunlight that broke through the window that woke me up, my body heavy with exhaustion.
Slowly, I got up and checked myself, and the sight that greeted me was my body bearing the signs of my experiences.
As I surveyed my weakened form, a bitter laugh escaped my lips. "I feel like a eunuch from Qarth or an unsullied," I admitted, the harshness of my voice driving me to seek water.
GULP GULP
With trembling hands, I lifted the jug of water, the cool liquid providing some relief to my parched throat. But even as I drank, I could feel my body shaking with pain and exhaustion, threatening to overwhelm me once more.
THUD
CRACK CRACKLE
And then, without warning, I collapsed, the sound of the earthen jug shattering against the floor reverberating through the room.
I heard the door opening and shouts ringing out, but instead of aid, I received only the news of my condition being spread.
"Lord Hoster has woken up."
"Is that true?"
"..Yes, he..."
"....woke up.."
Inwardly cursing the fool who had informed others rather than offer help, I couldn't help but understand their motivations.
In my family, we would reward such news with gold dragons, a token of appreciation for bringing joyous tidings. Symbolizing the kindness of Mother.
Amidst the chaos, I heard the familiar voice of the Maester as he rushed to my side, helping me back into bed. With a wry smile, he joked about my newfound taste for violence.
"I had you craved for some revenge."
"I did."
Maester just snorted and said, "Well, it poked you back. That's the reason I told you to learn from my history lessons."
Remembering our previous conversations about my reluctance to my studies, I couldn't resist a retort. "I am your best student," I quipped, the words laced with playful defiance.
He chuckled in response, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Yes, you are," he agreed, a hint of pride colouring his tone.
And in that moment, as I lay bedridden and weak, I couldn't help but feel relief in the safety of my home.
---------------------------------
"It has been days of rest and therapy that followed my getting back to my feet," I recounted, the memories still fresh in my mind. "Occasional visits from my parents, uncle, cousin Aeric and even some friends provided some comfort during those long days. But slowly the visits grew less until only Aeric visited me once in a while."
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As I reflected on the occasional flashes of Aeric's visits, I couldn't help but admire the bonds that the worship of the Sevens forged within our family and society.
Contrary to the claims of the Heathen Blackwoods, I believed that our adherence to their teachings brought us closer together, fostering a sense of unity and kinship.
But one thought continued to plague my mind: why had my parents and uncle not come to see me? Each passing day only deepened the doubt in my heart, fueling my fears of a potential war with the Blackwoods. Or worse, their absence altogether.
Unable to bear the weight of uncertainty any longer, I turned to the Maester for answers. Yet, to my frustration, he always avoided the topic with vague assurances of explanations to come. "Not now," he would say. "I will explain tomorrow."
But my patience wore thin, and in a moment of desperation, I threatened him with violence, my emotions raw and unstable from the trauma I had endured.
"AGH! Control yourself little Hoster," I envy the maester for being so collected even when being strangled.
BAM
It was then that my cousin intervened, delivering a swift punch to my face that saved him.
As the Maester heaved a sigh of relief, Aeric spoke, "It seems you become ungrateful in your time with torture."
"Lord Bracken," Maester addressed Aeric about me with a note of sadness in his voice. "He is still unstable."
I couldn't help but feel a pang of confusion at his words. Not about me being stable. I am unstable and I know that. Having your manhood eaten by a dog does that, especially when I had to rely on eating the same dog to fill my hunger.
The confusion comes from Maester's addressing. Aeric was the heir, not the Lord. But as Aeric dragged me away, I realized with a sinking feeling that things had changed in my absence.
"Lord Bracken."
"My Lord."
"Lord."
A sense of foreboding settled over me as we made our way through the halls, the greetings of servants and occasional looks of resentment casting a shadow over our path.
It was only when we reached the expanded cemetery that the truth became clear.
Aeric pointed towards the graves of my uncle, my parents, and even a few friends and acquaintances. The realization hit me like a tidal wave, shattering the fragile hope that had sustained me.
THUD
I collapsed to my knees, the weight of grief and loss crashing down upon me as I hugged their graves, tears streaming down my face.
"I will kill those blackwoods and end every single one of them for this," I declared, my words laced with venom and hatred.
Aeric sighed wearily, his expression pained as he attempted to reason with me. "It is not them," he insisted, his voice tinged with sorrow.
"Then who is it?" I demanded, my frustration boiling over. "Is it the weasel Freys?"
"No," Aeric replied firmly, his tone brooking no argument.
"Damn it, who is the bastard responsible for this?" I seethed, my hands trembling with rage. "I will butcher him."
But Aeric's next words stopped me in my tracks, the truth hitting me like a blow to the gut. "Don't, my cousin," he pleaded, his eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and resentment. "Suicide is a sin. You killing the murderer would be a case of suicide. Because you are the one responsible."
The accusation hung heavy in the air, leaving me reeling in disbelief. "W-What do you mean?" I stammered, my mind struggling to comprehend his words.
Aeric's anger flared, and he threw the bottle in a fit of frustration. "Have you wondered whether Blackwood ordered the attackers themselves?" he demanded, his voice rising with each word.
"Why do you think Father, who hated the Blackwoods to the core, didn't agree to attack them despite the chance of falling into his lap?" he continued, his gaze piercing through me with accusation.
"Why didn't we go to war even when they captured you?" Aeric pressed on, his words cutting deep. Aeric pressed on, his words cutting deep. "I mean, as much as I am angry at you now, I would have gladly taken to the battlefield for your sake if I could."
"Why I haven't brought your torturers to justice?" he challenged, his tone heavy with disappointment. "Well, I can't."
SIGH
" Because they are dead. They were dying men from the start."
Each question struck me like a hammer blow, forcing me to see the harsh reality of my actions—or lack thereof.
My mind raced, piecing together the events from the start to the bitter end, including the despair of my torture that seemed to permeate every aspect of my life.
That foul-smelling liquid, my shivering days in the wilderness, my family and people disappearing after meeting me, my post-rescue. They were dying because of breathing the same air as me.
They were dying because an insane man wanted to inflict the same pain he felt on his enemies.
And then, I uttered the cause of this agony, "Shivers," I whispered, the word felt so heavy.
Aeric nodded while coughing up blood into his hand. " Yes, quite the apt name for the disease. It sends shivers down the spine of those who experience its impact. I heard even the proud dragon riders felt these shives crippling the house in its entirety."
I remembered his haunting words.
"You think this is despair?" he taunted, his words dripping with venom. "You will understand despair after today."
That madman.
The new lord Bracken said, "Father didn't intend to attack house Blackwood because it is no longer there. Except for one babe and a widow. But, alas, our past hatreds clouded you."
I understand despair now.
"HAHAHA, So Cruel, hahaha, AHHHHH, HAHAHA."
I cried and laughed in bouts of the cruel irony by the Seven, "HAHA, I am kinslayer. I killed my entire house and my people by breathing. AHHHHHHH,"
It was at that moment, as the sun set, that my cries and laughter subsided, leaving me a hollow and numb husk.
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" Shivers, the plague that had terrorized the world back then."
GULP GULP
I drank the soothing tea from Yi-Ti, calming myself. I proceeded with a detachment. "It kept plunging everyone into despair. Just when you think it's over, it comes back over and over."
"Shivers had made the bandits act in desperation that rose from the side effects of the plague- death and food shortage. It was not just them. There were also my captors from Blackwood's guards, and my family—my parents, and my uncle. It was at the last point that I realized my cousin's resentment. I am the sinner who carried that disease to my family."
Kerith tried to console me by saying, "Teacher, it is not your fault. It was--"
I cut him off with a wave of my hand and said, "While it wasn't my fault, I share a responsibility. You see, my family did not throw me away. Even when they knew that I Shivers, they never stopped caring for me. Especially my cousin Aeric, even when coughing and shivering from it. He controlled the small folk by blaming me. When small folk blame something for their misery, they tear it apart."
Even a fucking dragon was torn apart, let alone me. But, my cousin did the impossible. He controlled the rioting small folk and calm them. Protected me from their wrath. Me, a half-dead ignorant man-child recovering peacefully in Maester's chambers.
Though Aeric was never perfect as he never looked at smallfolk as people, he treated me as a family. A family that had shivers due to me.
As the truth sank in for Kerith. I could only hang my head in shame, haunted by the echoes of my captors' parting words.
"You think this is despair?" he taunted, his words dripping with venom. "You will understand genuine despair after today."
"I felt genuine despair as my captor said," I confessed, my voice heavy with emotion. "Such despair that it broke me beyond words. Did you realize the loophole in my story, my dear student?"
Kerith nodded earnestly, his eyes reflecting understanding towards me. "It is you, Teacher. You healed from shivers," he replied, his voice soft with realization.
"That's right, I did," I confirmed, my mind drifting back to those desperate days. "It was this realization that had me grasping at straws, as the plague continued to spread. I backtracked my path, scouring the land for every herb, root, and even patch of dirt I had encountered on my journey home. I hoped that one of them might hold the cure for Aeric."
"After moons of searching, I returned with everything I had gathered," I continued, the memory still vivid in my mind. "But the sight that greeted me was the grave of the Maester."
I could feel the weight of despair settling over me once more than I recounted the moment of realization—that genuine despair knows no bounds, and there is always more in wait.
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I found myself at Aeric's bedside, the air heavy with the scent of sickness and death. He lay there, weakened and in pain, unable to even see his son, who cried outside the door. Otherwise, the child might share the same fate.
He made a joke in the face of his impending demise, calling me "the Seven Blessed assholes who beat the Other's curse—the Shivers."
I scoffed at the idea, knowing the truth behind my miraculous recovery. "As if," I retorted bitterly. "I am the lucky idiot who ate the unknown magical herb in the forest. Only if I knew of it."
SMACK SMACK
SMACK
SLAP
"ENOUGH!" Aeric's wheezing shout broke me from my self-punishment. I wish I knew more.
I could only matter out, " Maester always wanted me to study, saying it was a good path for me. Now, even the Maester is dead; otherwise, he might have recognized it. I wish there were more Maesters."
Aeric chuckled softly, his eyes filled with resignation. "Such is the way of Father's work," he murmured to me. "I can feel the Stranger's gaze, cousin. Please take care of my son."
COUGH
COUGH
COUGH
Looking at my cousin's blood-soaked mouth, I didn't know what to do. There isn't another healer in the entire Bracken territory.
In this territory.
The realization had me stand up and shout, "Wait for a few more days, cousin. Even if I have to -to -to."
Taking a deep breath, I said, "Even if I have to beg the Blackwoods, I will bring their maester here."
I looked at him with excitement while I clutched the collected herbs, hoping that the Maester could recognise the right herb.
All I found was an unmoving chest of my cousin.
------
--------Kerith's POV---------
"As I sent him off with honours befitting his station, I made a solemn vow to my dead cousin, promising to ensure that his son would grow to be a worthy lord."
As I looked towards the teacher, I could see the weight of his experiences reflected in his eyes. "I fulfilled the vow," he explained, "and I ensured my nephew was well trained and gave him the lordship duties when he came of age."
He snorted as while looking out of the window, "That got me too many titles. Righteous Knight, Knight of seven virtues. Ideal Regent. So much bullshit for my atonement."
CREAK CREAK
Teacher Hoster had got down from the carriage since the Harbour arrived. "But the series incidents made me realize many things and pushed me towards the Citadel."
"It was in the Citadel that I achieved the Maester status in a short time," Teacher Bracken reminisced, his voice carrying the weight of years of dedication. "Perhaps because of my fervent pursuit of knowledge to heal my family back then."
"So I thought of ways to avoid such misery in the future," Teacher Bracken continued, his eyes reflecting the depth of his resolve. "We might train more Maesters, even women," Teacher Bracken suggested. "That essentially doubles the prospective healers. We can propagate basic knowledge. If the lords themselves were mindful of this knowledge, they could govern better, especially in times of distress like shivers."
As I listened intently to my mentor's words, I couldn't help but admire his insight and foresight.
Here was a man who had endured unimaginable hardships, yet instead of succumbing to despair, he had dedicated his life to finding reforms that would prevent others from suffering the same fate.
At that moment, I realized the true genius status of my mentor.
He wasn't just a talented healer or a scholar—he was a visionary, a man driven by a singular purpose: to ease the suffering caused by disease and ignorance.
He is a great man, there is no doubt about it.
But even as I admired his accomplishments, I couldn't help but feel the truth. I knew I could never act like him, especially after his circumstances.
As Teacher Bracken continued to speak, his words filled with a rare sincerity, I hung on to every letter. "So wealth or fame, even power, no longer matters to me," he confessed, his voice tinged with a sense of resignation. "It is pushing these reforms, the goal of my life."
He turned to me then, his gaze penetrating. "It was at this time that you came into my life, little Kerith," he said, his tone soft yet filled with conviction. "You possess intellect and knowledge seen only once in a generation. So, rather than me, I prefer you to have them."
He spread his arms as if to show, "Because every single one of them has ties attached to them. I can no longer bear the social ties in my life. Rather, my heart yearns for this research or knowledge advancements. If you want to help me, perhaps help me in my war against diseases."
I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of my next actions. But, I wanted to do this. What's the point of life if you can't act on your thoughts or emotions?
"Teacher," I began, my voice filled with uncertainty, "have you ever observed a mould on bread? It repels other moulds or..."