"And which deed of mine was it that inspired you?"
"Several, I suppose. Even before I came to King's Landing, I had heard of your exploits. Witnessing them in person, however, is an entirely different matter. I have begun to understand why my father is so fixated on you."
"When I first hired him, I assumed he was only by my side because of the gold." I replied, sitting down on a bench to the side. "Which, in part, was true… but a man like him could find gold anywhere."
"Your gold dragons were just pocket change for him to spend on his terrible habits."
"Every man has his vices." I remarked, shrugging. "I am aware that Dorian has had his fair share of pain and suffering in all his years. Never knowing his father, sold into slavery by his own mother, having to carve a path to freedom through the fighting pits, living the life of a mercenary…"
"Dorian always spoke fondly of the fighting pits." Rhaerra mused, tilting her head slightly. "But not of slavery. It's quite strange that the very thing he despised gave him the most pleasure. Never had he ever felt so alive as he did fighting men to the death over and over, he would say…"
"I've felt the same sometimes, in battle." I admitted. "It is only when you smell the air of death that all of your needless worries wash away and all you think of is how you're going to live another second. You're living in the moment - in every sense of the word. It's strangely… serene."
"A battle - serene?" Rhaerra questioned. "You are madder than I first thought, Your Grace."
"I've come to terms with my loss of normality quite a while ago."
"That doesn't seem to concern you in the slightest." Rhaerra remarked.
"It does not."
"Oh? Elaborate, if you wish."
May as well.
"I hold the belief that all Kings can be seen as mad in one sense or the other. Their power allows them to express themselves to the fullest, in extremes that ordinary men would not dream of, whether it be with goodwill or otherwise. If a King wanted a thousand men to die, a thousand men would, more than likely, die. If an ordinary man had the same desire - he's not reaching half a dozen in most cases."
"An interesting way to see things. You would consider the likes of, say, King Jaehaerys, the First of His Name, mad?" Rhaerra questioned.
"In a good way, yes. Madness doesn't necessarily have to be of the ill kind. Jaehaerys trained rigorously until he was just an edge less formidable than his own Kingsguard; he performed royal progresses across practically every inch of land in the Seven Kingdoms and relentlessly worked on forging a stable, peaceful, prosperous Realm. Even when he would be in times of distress, he would shrug his sorrows and plunge himself into his work."
"Tell me, is that not a man who is madly driven by the pursuit to be the finest King possible? Is he not mad with diligence, an extreme kind of diligence that so very few could hope to possess?"
"So you hold the belief that madness and greatness are two sides of the same coin?"
"In essence." I shrugged. "A great man could do terrible things, as a mad man could accomplish great deeds. They are not mutually exclusive. If anything, madness and greatness compliment each other in a strange way. Of course, that's only my view."
Why do I think this way? The likes of Kobe Bryant and Michael Jordan were definitely on the crazy side yet achieved greatness few could even compare with. Sure, they were just basketball players, but that kind of madness applies to any human endeavor.
"Amusingly enough…" Rhaerra turned to her main, incomplete paintings. "That is also the theme of these two paintings. The moon, darkness, of the Storm that can sink kingdoms in terror and the other half, the radiant sun and light rain which inspires thousands and shines down a light of prosperity and peace.
"As a person, you are capable of truly terrible things… Yet the opposite is just as true. You can flip from one extreme to the other, whenever you see fit. I find it rather fascinating."
"I don't think I've done anything particularly saintly." I remarked.
"You took the mantle of King."
"... Since when was that something saintly?"
"It depends on the person." Rhaerra turned back to me. "You valued your personal freedom so greatly that you ran from King's Landing after the person you loved. Only after her unfortunate passing did you turn back. You are not the kind to seek power, yet it found you. Most of your actions are not from a personal desire but rather duty, a sense of responsibility that compels you."
"Is sacrificing yourself for the sake of the masses not a saintly action?"
"And how did you come to such a conclusion about me?" I raised an eyebrow.
"If you could choose anyone in the world, if you were not bound by such things… would it still be Arya who you would marry?"
"..."
As much as I wanted to say yes, the answer was likely no.
In an absolutely ideal world where the past didn't matter…
I loosened my left hand.
"You do have a choice. You can be absolutely selfish but you know how that would reflect on the North. Oh… how brilliant. That would be wonderful, indeed" Rhaerra suddenly stroked her chin. "I've thought of my next idea for a painting."
"...?" I raised an eyebrow. "Glad to have helped, I suppose. Anyway, you're quite nosy - getting all into my personal business."
"These are, in part, my father's thoughts. He has been around long enough to know all about Edric Storm."
"In truth, I'm not near as selfless as you believe."
"And yet your selfishness has a way of being selfless." Rhaerra pondered. "Like how you set up this duelling tournament, for instance. It was your desire to see certain matches, yet you also did so in benefit of those who are loyal to you."
"I don't know what you are talking about." I waved my hand jestfully. "I'd never rig a tournament."
"You can't convince me like that." She laughed, shaking her head. "Nevertheless, Dorian considers you to be an anomaly of sorts. Unpredictable as a clouded sky."
"I don't know if that's a compliment or not."
"You may take it as one."
"Hm…"
I stood up from the bench and took a closer look at what she was cooking. I could tell she was back to being wholly focused on painting, despite the mask.
"Do you keep the mask on when you sleep?" I japed, breaking the sudden silence.
"Wouldn't you like to find out?" She glanced back with a playful tone. "You could come to my bed and see."
"An awful suggestion for a betrothed young man."
"Fortunately for you, I am unlike the vultures of this court who seek every piece of you."
"You do want my old armour, however."
"A souvenir to take home." Rhaerra replied, shrugging. I couldn't tell if she smiled or not thanks to the mask. "A far cry from trapping you with a child when you are far too drunk to think straight."
"Oddly specific." I remarked.
"That was your first time, wasn't it?"
"Categorically… but I don't really count it. I hardly recall anything from that night."
"I suppose a boy's maidenhood is quite inconsequential. You could do it as many times as you like, with whoever."
"That's a slight overstatement. I'm going to be a father."
"Now that is a choice that you made. Surely you've heard of moon tea before?"
"I would not kill my own blood."
"Hence the trap." Rhaerra shrugged. "I see you as the kind of person who would legitimise their bastard children as well. If I am right - the Tyrells have made the game look too easy. Especially if it were as you've personally set the precedent of a legitimised bastard being King."
"You are not wrong. Ideally, not only would I accept my bastard children, but I'd also want them to bear the same arms as me."
"Ideally?"
"I'll have to wait until I have some trueborn heirs."
"You are one strange King."
"I was never born to be one."
I remarked, looking at the painting.
"Well, it's quite late. I won't take your focus away from your work further. Enjoy yourself."
"Our talk has been insightful, Your Grace. I thank you for your time."
"I'm glad I was able to inspire you."
I gave a smile and walked away.
Strangely enough, despite her precise pokes at my character, I found talking to her… nice. It kind of reminded me of when I'd sit down with Alysanne and yap for hours about my latest historical fascination.
It wasn't love, of course… but being friends seemed more than likely. I find her to be quite interesting.
Before going sleep, I played around a little with my magic until I felt tired. Blackwater Bay had some lightning strikes here and there, some rain, a surge of wind - nothing too crazy. I also flew around in Freedom's body and tried to see if I could reach Dragonstone.
My connection cut short, unfortunately.
Instead of returning to my body, however, I was thrown into an abyss of dreams - my dreams. Just like before, Raiden Shogun had invaded them, and I began to think that it wasn't just some coincidence. Consciously, I pointed the finger at Mr Targaryen.
The first was five-year-old me running around and pretending to be a policeman at school. I thought the British metropolitan hats looked cool when I was little. The long one that kinda looked like the sort of helmet pikemen in the late middle ages would wear
Though, I eventually grew out of it and stole the usual dream boys my age in England would share; being a professional footballer. It was more of a peer-pressure thing, though. Then, my dad decided that I was too soft and threw me into a boxing club.
I was scared shitless of being punched and even more scared of punching someone. For a time, I did 'hate' my dad for dragging me in there, but I ended up liking it. I was terrible at boxing... but it was fun.
Later on, I'd sink countless hours into the likes of video games, books and anime. Honestly - I had the bad habit of picking up hobbies whenever. I could find joy in almost anything... except some shit like cricket. That was never for me.
But the most prominent of them all came before even that. I was eight or so, and some chinese lady was going around the local Mcdonalds asking if people wanted DVD's. My parents were rolling their eyes at the sight but I was a curious young boy, so when she came around, I had a look at her wares.
One of them captivated me; the NBA 2009-2010 Finals.
"That's the man from the poster." Raiden Shogun remarked.
"Yeah... sure is."
I asked my parents oh so very cutely for it, and they relented.
When I got home, I played it immediately and felt nothing short of awe. I went game by game until the entire series came to a close, and Kobe Bryant claimed his fifth championship. I was lowkey supporting the Lakers already because I thought green was a lame colour and I wanted the best player on the court to win.
When the entire team came together and celebrated like they just cured world hunger, little me was jumping with them as if I had been there.
Safe to say, I picked up a basketball and went to do my best Kobe Bryant impression. Years would go by, and it was the same thing. I kept shooting and having fun seeing what I could hit. I didn't get much better, but I kept shooting. Shooters gotta shoot... except I was more of a professional bricklayer. Or, maybe, a sadistic torturer with how I had the rim and backboard crying out with my shots.
To add to my sheer audacity and shamelessness, I played a song called 'Let it Fly' by Dribble2Much.
"Pull up like I'm in the drive-through." Old me sang along with the song as I let it fly, though it was more of a mutter. I didn't want anyone to hear me (even if the cage was empty). "Pull up again like I gotta bad order. I might just shoot this from half court..."
I mean...
Brick.
Brick.
Brick.
I wasn't hitting shit, but I felt like a basketball demon...
"I grind every summer, so it's going in now..."
From deep...
Swish. Right through the net.
Oh, I made that one?
All three of us were surprised, including Raiden.
"Don't let me get one..."
The ball bounced back to me, and I fired again from long-range after performing a sidestep.
Swish.
Two in a row.
It bounced right back again, and you know what I was doing. This time, I stepped back before letting it fly again.
Another swish - three in a row. You know, young blood, if I wasn't 5'8, I could've made the league. Definitely... I would've been the next Stephen Curry.
Now, I was really feeling myself and dribbled back a few feet. This was 1000% a heatcheck because of the sudden overwhelming sense of confidence I had in myself to shoot it from 40 feet.
That confidence dissipated as swiftly as it emerged once I hit nothing but air... and not in a good way.
Looking back on it, I smiled.
Old me was living his best life.
"Is this where your joy in archery came from?" Raiden Shogun questioned.
"Aye, pretty much... it's the closest thing to it, after all. You have to measure distance, angles and strength depending on the target and how far it is. Though, nothing quite compares to the sound of a swish."
"I see."
After that dream faded, I was thrown back into the abyss, and a red door appeared before me. I raised an eyebrow. These dreams were always so trippy...
I've never been high, but I'd imagine it's something like this. Random shit happening without much explanation.
The door practically stared at me as if I had no choice but to open it.
Fine...
I sighed, pushing it open.
The next thing I saw was a truly brilliant sight. I stood on the balcony of an absolutely huge pyramid that had to be nearing a thousand feet in height from top to bottom. The city below was a breathtaking, foreign, land that hypnotised me into wanting to see more. My adventurous side wanted to slide off the Pyramid and get to exploring from bottom to top.
I gathered myself.
This is Meereen - it has to be.
It's rather strange, though... why would I be here?
I turned back and my question was immediately answered when a pair of beautiful yet guarded violet eyes met my own.
I knew exactly who she was, even if I had never met her in person.