Chapter Four: Schemers & Dragons
Holy whatever-the-hell-stuck-me-here!
She was massive, not as large as her body-less comrade in the keep might have been but when the largest animal you have ever seen is as elephant (and part of a humpback) it takes a while to adjust to seeing a damned dragon.
Her name was something-valyrian. Look I don't have a perfect memory and Valyrian names were painfully hard to remember, fortunately this one had a nickname. The Red Queen.
An apt name because the great she dragon was deep red and not a moddled red but a sparkling scarlet as if she was a living river of rubies. The membranes of her wings a muted but warm coral pink and her horns, claws and crest were light copper.
She was beautiful and terrifying as she sized us up with vague disinterest as she sat curled up in her rock-hewn stable within the Pit. She had a great loop of steel around her neck but the great slack of the chain made it clear that she could end us if so inclined in a heartbeat. It didn't seem terribly likely as her great golden eyes seemed to communicate a shocking level of apathy to out existence.
I must have been gaping because Rhaenys laughed as she kneeled down and patted me on the back.
"She's quite the beauty isn't she lad?" She said with an ear to ear smile.
I collected myself and nodded, "pretty."
"Huh! Hear that Meleys? Our little prince thinks that you're pretty!" She shouted at the great wyrm. For the dragon's part it only opened its lidded eyes and moved just so slightly to acknowledge its rider before closing its eyes completely and dismissing the tiny intruders on her life of napping.
"Now if only she wasn't as idle as a boulder most of the time!" The disturbingly cool woman said as she roared in laughter while clapping her hands to her trim waist, I honestly suspected a bit too much Baratheon sneaked into her. She looked over to where Rhaenyra was making her best attempt to look patient despite her fidgeting.
"Now enough about this old bitch and her dragon," she said with a chuckle, "I believe the princess will be wanting to show you her dragon."
Rhaenyra lit up immediately as she clutched my arm and began dragging me away as fast as my little legs could move much to the imminent amusement of Rhaenys as she walked along with us.
"Just you wait Gaem! Syrax is great! She's not very big but she is cute, fast and smart! You will surely love her!" Honestly for all her petulance and impulsiveness I found Rhaenyra to be a pleasant child, a bit of a brat but to me at least she typically seemed well-meaning and at least tried to be kind. That did not really comfort me much because I knew very well what she had grown to be in another world and more importantly I knew that good children do not necessarily become good people.
"I gotta say princess," Rhaenys opined as she casually kept pace with us with her long legs. Not that I was looking of course, "You're taking quite the shining to your brothers."
Rhaenyra's expression soured a little at that, her entire body language changing and her tone becoming almost robotic, "Perhaps, truthfully I would say that my half-brother Aegon takes more after her grace than my royal father."
So it's already begun. Lovely.
Rhaenys noticed the change in mood as bent down and patted the princess on the back, "I wouldn't worry so much about that. Twins tend to be of the same cloth and you like this one well enough don't you?"
Rhaenyra lit up again at that as she looked back to me warmly, "Gaem is great! He is nothing like they told me a brother would be, he is not loud, he does not cry and he likes me. A Targaryen through and through, barely a drop of Hightower in him!"
"Careful girl," Rhaenys said with a suddenly calm expression as Rhaenyra realized what she said and blushed.
"Careful with what, Princess Rhaenys?" Criston Cole said, speaking for the first time in a while and with more than a drop of hostility. I was sad to hear him speak, I had rather hoped that he had fallen down a random hole into hell.
"Oh put your prick back into your pants Ser," Rhaenys said with a dramatic sigh. "You and I both know she can't be saying things like that publicly."
The kingsguard looked more than a little crossed for a moment at the comment but eventually dipped his head in acceptance, "Perhaps but we both know that the children present a problem for our princess."
"Hoh? The rumors are true then about Otto?" Rhaenys said with interest as Rhaenyra's expression grew a bit angrier and her steps became more like stomps.
"Everyday he grows more insistent," Ser Criston said with a dark expression. As interested as I was I vaguely hoped that a dragon would pop out of nowhere and eat his head.
"I wouldn't concern myself a great deal about that, if I know Viserys and I do. He will not change his mind. Man is as stubborn as an auroch when it suits him," she said casually. So, talking shit about the king in front of a kingsguard, I wondered if Rhaenys understood what fear was as a concept.
"It would be helpful if Lord Velaryon were to more visibly express his support…" Criston said leadingly.
Rhaenys sighed, "That won't be happening anytime soon, I'm afraid. He's still nursing his pride with pirate blood. I would be with him truth be told if it weren't for tradition."
Hmm, if I recalled correctly then Corlys and Daemon should be ankle deep in the Stepstones about now.
That also explains why Rhaenys was here. I remember mention that by tradition a rider always had to live in the pit and I guess that she would be the only one available with her children still not being fully grown and Daemon off stroking his ego by incinerating men that couldn't really fight back.
"Perhaps something may be done to recapture his interest?" Criston asked. For all that I hoped that a spear would emerge from the ground to impale him, I had to give the man credit for trying to aid his patron's cause. I knew he would eventually turn on her but still.
It also seemed like their politicking had finally shorn away Rhaenyra's patience.
"Can we please stop?" She asked and for just a moment her face seemed like it had gained a decade in fatigue, "I appreciate your support my dear knight but can may we just leave such matters aside for today?"
Cole's annoyingly handsome features softened a bit, "Of course princess."
Rhaenys smiled, "Good thing, there is Syrax now."
She pointed at the cavern we had just stopped before. Holy crap that place was huge, it had taken the entire conversation to move three gates down.
Rhaenyra quickly forgot the conversation as she charged into the cavern with Cole trailing her.
"Come on now lad," Rhaenys picked me up and followed them in. "Let's not keep your sister waiting."
I really wished she hadn't picked me up because sweet god damn it was hard to focus on dragons from that position.
Seeming to remember me Rhaenyra ran back towards us, "Here she is, my Syrax!"
Sitting in the pit and eating a freshly roasted lamb is a dragon considerably smaller than Meleys with brilliant greenish-yellow scales and ivory white horns and claws. She was also more thickly built than the red queen and slightly more active in her movements than her larger peer which seemed rather in line with what scraps of information I could recall about her. Said information however did little to nothing to communicate how uncanny the resemblance was between the dragon and a certain cat eating a certain Italian dish…
"Pretty," I noted. To be fair she was actually, so far, the dragons I had seen were all gorgeous creatures. Hilariously less badass than I imagined but still pretty.
That made Rhaenyra light up happily at me.
"You want to come flying with me?" She said enthusiastically.
'Hell to the no' would have been my immediate answer but I figured an enthusiastic nod would earn me some browny points, no way in hell they'd allow that so there was no risk.
"Have you gone mad girl!" Rhaenys hissed. I internally breathed a sigh of relief.
"Why not?" Rhaenyra asked in confusion. "Syrax is harmless and I have ridden her since I was seven!"
"Seven girl, there's a bit of a difference between two and seven!" Rhaenys tried to explain to the girl.
Rhaenyra sighed in defeat and cleared her throat awkwardly.
"That is very fair, perhaps a ride would be acceptable? With me of course and just around the Pit?"
Rhaenys scratched he head for a moment and looked at Garfield-made-a-dragon. "A ride should not be an issue then."
And so, after some coaching and more than a little bit of cursing, they managed to get one of the saddles onto the dragon. I mentally took notes the entire time on the process, it took forty-plus men who seemed entirely to use to getting the gear onto a breed of creature which was renowned for its barbeque skills. The entire affair took so long that by the time the saddle was fully strapped on Syrax had already finished her meal and was eyeing the human workers with an expression best summarized as 'really?'
What was hilarious was the tall step ladder used for climbing onto the dragon. Which she climbed and settled herself onto the saddle with practiced ease and put me on her lap after I was passed to her.
She pulled some of the chains that I noticed were hanging loose around the saddle and carefully wrapped them around my belt.
"Be sure to fasten him tight," Rhaenys said as she stood beside the dragon, I noticed that Syrax edged away slightly at her approach. It was to be expected according to Barth. He noted that dragons seemed to identify a rider as its dragon on some level, he was not quite sure how but he speculated that it might either be explained by scent or perhaps some more mystical sense. Smaller dragons tended to shy away from larger dragons unless forced to engage.
"Of course," Rhaenyra said as she finished adjusting the chains.
One of the servants passed her a dragon-whip as she prepared to spur Syrax. The whips were specially designed to my understanding, they were strong enough to draw a reaction from a dragon but generally produced less of an impact than proportionately. It was never bright to hit a dragon too hard regardless of training and heel spurs were not exactly practical given the elevated nature of the saddles.
It took some prodding to get Syrax moving but when she did… It was anticlimactic.
I had ridden a camel once in my past life and I could safely say that it was a heart-pounding experience compared to the slow crawl of Syrax.
I dutifully chuckled and giggled in joy but it felt incredibly dull as she waddled her way out of her cell and begun to make her loop around the pit.
At least it as relaxing, in fact it was so slow that I began to contemplate how smoothly things had gone so far.
Unfortunately, the general ease of the day ended when we went by the ended when we passed by through the mouth of the pit.
When we did I quickly decided that it had not been a particularly bright idea to go along with Rhaenyra's impulse to come to the pit.
Waiting for us was a tall giant of a man in full plate armor with a longsword strapped to his side. He was intimidating enough on his own but I suspected that it wasn't him that had Rhaenyra stiff with fear, I strongly suspected that it had far more to do with the veritable ocean of gold-cloaked men behind him. Rhaenyra probably didn't think this through although to be fair she was twelve. Not that it boded well for her (or more importantly my) future.
I also fought hard to suppress the rage and confusion I felt boiling inside me as I starred at the man in full plate. Full plate. I really wished that Westeros could very up and decide what time period it was in because that armor looked distinctly sixteenth cent-
I shook my head, time and place, Gaemon. Time and place.
"Your Grace," the giant greeted as he began to move towards us.
"I-I-I did not think-, "She stuttered.
"No your grace," the giant said as he walked up to us. Now that I had a closer look I could see that the man was possessed of incredibly plain features with short-shorn brown hair and a light beard around a mouth that looked as if it was locked in a perpetual frown. Giant or no the man must have had balls of steel because he completely ignored the she dragon as he locked his stern eyes onto the young princess. "You did not."
"Lord Strong-," Rhaenyra stuttered as she scampered off Syrax (who lazily retreated into the Pit with minimal prodding, holy crap the records underestimated how cat-like these dragons were).
"The king has summoned you back to the Keep, immediately," He said without compromise and pointed to the litter.
That did not bode well.
Neither did the dead eyed terror etched into Rhaenyra's face as we quietly rode back to Keep in utter silence.
Not well at all.
As was my custom when cornered and terrified my brain went into overdrive, Rhaenyra was in deep shit. At the very least twenty meters deep. I was probably fine given that at my age I could probably get out of murder with a flap of the lashes and some giggles but Rhaenyra was old enough to know better (although god-damn they expected a lot). That was not good for me. While I could totally see her deserving punishment for being so damned reckless, allowing it would be directly detrimental to my survival.
If she got burned now that might encourage her to distance herself from me or worse they might forbid her from going anywhere near me and if I could gleam one thing from the sources it was that neither Rhaenyra nor Aegon were hard to antagonize. The moment I took my eye of either they could be quickly turned to feeding me to a dragon and given what happened originally, there was no reason to assume that they would hesitate.
I needed to go into full damage-control mode or this could seriously be grounds for some problems later on (and in Westeros could cause trouble always meant would cause trouble) if I let her take the brunt of the Alicent or worse, Viserys.
Just one problem, a big problem. In was two, what the hell could I reasonably do in a situation like this?
As we arrived and got down from the litter I saw the Master of Laws signal to two of his goldcloaks.
"Take the prince back to his rooms," He said dismissively.
That was not his brightest move in retrospect because it gave me something of an epiphany.
I latched onto Rhaenyra's leg like my life depended on it. Which to be fair it probably did.
When they reached for my I shook off the hand that clasped onto my shoulder.
"No," I hissed. My epiphany was rather simple. I was two, I didn't have to be reasonable.
"Come along now my lord," one of them tried to grab me again.
"No," I shook the hand off my shoulder.
"Come now you-bra-" One lost his patience as he reached towards me perfect
"Touch me again and you will lose that hand," I snarled. Fun little legal tidbit, laying hands on a royal without the express consent of the king was not exactly good for your health. At least I hoped.
My threat seemed to have worked as the two men froze completely. I wasn't quite sure if it was because my threat had any wait or if it was because I forgot to distort my speech well enough to sound like a two-year-old.
They looked at the Strong in askance, no doubt concerned that what I said might have any weight. Given how easy it was to get killed for something in this world I didn't fault them. I was relieved internally, that had been an empty threat (probably), I was not exactly going to go about lopping hands off for fun but my life very much felt on the line here.
The Strong for his part looked at me with one brow ever so slightly raised. Crap, I forgot that he quick on the uptake.
"Very well, bring the Prince with us. His grace stressed expedience," I had gotten my way but I suspected that I had just added more to the 'something is wrong with that child camp.'
I looked up at Rhaenyra as we followed the men and much to my pleasure saw that she was smiling down at me even if she was still pale.
"Coming along to protect me?" She asked.
I nodded up at her.
Rhaenys chuckled a little as she strolled next to us, "Well girl. It seems that you have yourself a brave little knight."
Brave, taking calculated risks to save my hide down the road, synonyms really.
"My little knight then," Rhaenyra beamed down at me. I noticed that Cole stiffened at her words. Now if only he had missed a step, tripped and broken his neck, I could write today off as a win regardless of what may happen.
Much to my relief we weren't led to the throne room (of doom) and were instead led to a smaller chamber. What I saw within however quickly led me to reevaluate that relief.
Four figures were seated along a long table. The king, my mother, Ser Otto 'the dick' Hightower and Runciter.
The old man just looked relief when he saw that I was still in one piece instead of many burned and partially digested bits.
Ser Otto was eyeing Rhaenyra like a lion eyeing a particularly dimwitted baby covered in grease. I was fairly sure that I saw him licking his teeth.
Alicent was (most understandably) looking like it was only her heavily pregnant belly keeping her from leaping over the table to strangle the life out of Rhaenyra.
Frankly those were all expected reactions, it was the last one that concerned me.
Viscerys was to my knowledge a hedonistic, lazy, jelly-spined excuse for a king that knew about as much about child-rearing as a particularly neglectful panda. Frankly I expected him to let this go the most easily dealt with of all the actors present. I seemed to have been mistaken.
I was fairly sure that all-consuming rage was a rare expression on him.
I might have miscalculated.Chapter Five: Maximum Cluster-cluck and Aftermath.
The tension was thick in the room, like knife-cutting thick. It was as if the universe was daring someone to have the balls to try to have the balls and speak. Regrettably I did not have said balls and was currently crushing Rhaenyra's hand with my own, a favor she was returning. I didn't need to look to know both our knuckles were bone white.
Finally Rhaenyra worked herself up enough to speak, "Father I-"
"You took your brother to the Dragon Pit," Viserys cut her off. Holy shit, that was the voice of the man that had an entire family's tongues ripped out. Every syllable was said slowly, growled out and layered with mounting, restrained anger.
"Father I can expl-" Rhaenyra was cut off again.
"You took your brother to the Dragon Pit," Viserys repeated in the same tone. At this point I am surprised he isn't letting smoke out of his nostrils and spitting fire. "Why?"
To her credit, Rhaenyra did not shy away from the baleful glare she was being subjected to, "I wanted to show him the dragons."
"You wanted to show him the dragons?" Alicent hissed. "You wanted to show a boy of little more than two years dragons? Do you expect us to-"
She was cut off when Viserys raised a hand to silence her. He looked over to her and softened his features ever so slightly.
"My queen, our child," he softly reached over and patted her pregnant belly. She looked at him and nodded before taking a deep breath and very deliberately softening her features.
Some might consider the exchange charming, I found it infuriating. He had a spine. He had a spire and could scare the hell out of both of them. Where is that spine when it matters? Did he miraculously survive an encounter with the Predator?
"Now," he turned back to Rhaenyra with his face rapidly hardening again. "Explain to me why you thought taking a child to the Dragon Pit was acceptable?"
"H-he likes dragons," she said, although the twitch in her expression made it clear that she was well aware that she had screwed up.
"He has barely more than two years," the King said slowly.
"But-" Rhaenyra said.
"Do not speak again unless you have something reasonable to say," the King growled.
"I would never allow harm to come to Gaemon!" Rhaenyra said with certainty.
That softened the king's features slightly, I guess any point towards family cooperation was a positive in his book.
"It is not issue of your intention, my girl," He smiled just a little. "There are thing's that you should know not to do."
"But Gaem loves dragons! Grand Maester Runciter said so."
Wait what?
"Unlikely," the Hand said, speaking for the first time. "The boy has never even left the Keep, he would never have seen a dragon before, much less have an opinion about them."
"Actually, my lord," Runciter said with a cough. "The boy shows an uncanny fascination with them."
"Grand Maester?" The king asked slowly.
"The prince… I am not sure how to describe it. He is brilliant your grace," the Grand Maester said as he shot me a pleased look. Oh hell no, leave me out of this Runciter. Don't throw me under the metaphorical bus. Ser Criston! Throw him under the bus! Wait buses don't exist here. Defenestration! Talk about how he should volunteer to test the virtues of defenestration!
"Explain," the King asked again, tapping a figure impatiently on the armrest of his chair. Shit no, focus on Rhaenyra!
"Well your grace he is learning quickly," Runciter said graspingly as he struggled for the right words. No, no, no.
"He is a child," Otto said dryly. "They've been known to learn quickly."
"No my lord," Runciter corrected but his face grew more animate as he went on. "His nannies report that they have never heard him cry, he deliberately signals for attention and he can read."
"What?" The king asked with concern. "The lad can read?"
No, no, no. Quick Ser Criston! Kill yourself and draw attention before we arrive into devil child territory.
"Yes your grace, and has been attempting to do so for at least a year prior if his caretakers are to be believed. At a year old he understood enough to request Barth's work." Runciter was the only one that seemed pleased with the revelation because the rest looked more than a little concerned.
"He has read Barth's history?" Otto asked with interest.
"No Lord Hightower," Runciter said quickly. "But did gesture towards it and seems to greatly enjoy my reading to him. He is also abnormally receptive to new words, I would wager that he can understand a great deal of our words at this very moment."
And like that all eyes turned towards me, bright side. Rhaenyra's hand eased up quite a bit in relief.
"He threatened to have a hand taken from the guard that attempted to separate him from the princess," Lord Strong added. Screw you buddy, not as severely as Cole perhaps but pretty deeply.
"What?" the King's head whipped up to the Master of Laws. "Are you certain?"
"He said so quite clearly, your grace," Lord Strong confirmed.
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.
"What is wrong with the child?" The king asked no one in particular.
Alright damage control, quick. Need a bullshit excuse. Umm, umm.
"Am I strange?" I asked as innocently and as clearly as I could.
The room went dead silent for a moment. Felt at least a dozen and a half sets of eyes burning into me from several directions. I portrayed myself as innocently nervous as I could.
I had to demurely pretend to be as confused as possible to play this off correctly.
"No," a voice said beside me. I looked up and saw Rhaenyra smiling down at me.
She reached down and hugged me, "No my little knight. Your just perfect."
As she was passing her hand through my hair three things became apparent.
One: either Rhaenyra had built up some genuine affection towards my or was trying to turn the situation to her advantage by playing the loving big sister. Hell if I knew which.
Second: Cole looked as if he would gladly castrate himself in exchange for the ability to smash my face in. To be fair, I would not mind doing the same to him.
Third: It was actually kind of nice to be patted like this which being somewhat of an old man, was an uncomfortable thing to say.
"Indeed," Alicent added with a… strange expression. She looked quite frankly like she felt that Rhaenyra had stolen her role in this little tableau. "You are fine as you are my little boy. A bit of strangeness is surely not the worst thing is that not right your grace?"
Viserys looked at Alicent and Rhaenyra before nodding, "You are correct my love."
It looked like the man would happily hug a meatgrinder if it meant finding a point of agreement between his wife and daughter.
"However," Ser Otto said. "That the boy is strange remains an issue."
The man looked at me with his full attention. "Tell me boy, why do you care so much about dragons?"
I looked at him as innocently as I could while internally wanting to throw him into a pit of snakes (along with Ser Criston). "I wanted to know more about the dreams."
"What dreams my boy?" The Grand Maester asked.
"The dreams," I repeated. When no one spoke again I tilted my head in askance. "You know, the ones with the dragons and the strange people and the fire?"
That left them more confused, perfect. Just needed to give them a few more bread crumbs and they'll arrive at the right conclusion.
"Hmm," the grand maester murmured as he began scratching his beard. "I suspect I have a notion of what might be occurring your grace."
"I would hope so Runciter," Viserys spoke through his left hand which he had long since brought up to massage his forehead.
"There are tales of some in Valyria who were gifted with dreams of strange sort," Runciter eyed me with fascination. As he did I noticed his spare hand was holding a link in his chain, one of a dark and smoky metal.
"Like Daenys the Dreamer?" Alicent commented with a curious look on her face. Well that was unexpected, I never read any mention that she had any interest in the Targaryen lineage. Still if it put her on the right track then more power to her. "The gods play a cruel joke on us then."
I… I didn't get that reference.
"Hardly, your grace. It was her dreams that saved House Targaryen from the Doom," Runciter noted. "However, if it is the case that the young prince is gifted to such a degree as to speed up his development. I could only speculate at what he might be able to achieve. It is quite fascinating."
"Fascinating is one word for it, Grand Maester," Otto noted. "Worrisome is another. I do not put much stock in the legends of old Valyria but there is no denying that the boy is odd."
"I agree, Lord Strong," Viserys looked to his Master of Laws. "I do not wish for word of the incident to spread. Am I understood?"
"Yes, you grace," the lord of Harenhal nodded. "I already had the men in question put in holding until they can be reminded that they misheard the prince."
Points for competence. It makes you a potential problem but points nonetheless.
"Thank you," The king nodded before addressing the room at large. "Word of my son's… gift will not leave this room, is that understood?"
Everyone in the room nodded at the command, although I noted that some did so with noticeably more hesitance than others.
"Might I suggest the boy begins his lessons with me soon, you grace?" Runciter suggested with enthusiasm.
"I have no objections," the king said before refocusing on Rhaenyra who stiffened once more. "Regardless of your brother's condition Rhaenyra, it does not excuse what you have done. An interest in dragons is not the same as facing one much less placing a small infant on one."
Fortunately, it seems that the whole affair had largely drained the room of the tension and rage about Rhaenyra's indiscretion since instead of angry growls, VIserys had adopted a more lecturing tone.
I noticed the Hightowers were notably less mollified, Otto more than Alicent whom was somewhat busy still burning into me with her concerned stare. That was the look of a mother about to go into full helicopter mode, great.
"I have no excuses father," Rhaenyra dipped her head down in apology. "I was recklass and short-sighted."
"You will succeed me someday," the king noted firmly. Interestingly Otto bristled a more than Alicent did. He had probably hoped to use this whole mess to keep pushing for a change in the succession. "A ruler may not be subject to their baser instinct."
"It cannot be helped your grace," Ser Otto said. "Women are rather unable to restrain themselves."
Holy father of misogyny! Who the actual hell would say something like that? With their own daughter in the room? No way in hell am I letting that crap past the radar.
"Regardless," Viserys reaffirmed. "You are forbidden from taking your brother out of the Keep. I will not forbid you from seeing him given your clear attachment but be warned that should you engage in such foolishness again. Some matters will be revisited."
On one hand I was glad I didn't get my bridge burned but on the other it is kind of ironic that Viserys would talk about restraint considering his entire life's story.
Life got complicated after that in both positive and problematic ways. On the positive, I could now largely avoid the more apparent dangers of being too advanced for my age.
I was now undergoing basic lessons under Runciter as well which was, well it was certainly interesting. The old Maester opted to start testing me in every subject on an advanced level to clarify how rapidly I had 'advanced' in different areas such as history, language, mathematics, etc.
I still tried to make a few mistakes here and there but I still weighed in enough to move passed most of what I already knew. Which saw me end up being lectured on fluff about 'Planetos' for hours on end, which of course made me more than a little happy to say the least.
Sadly, my life was not a complete fan-gasm. I still had a problematic reputation in the Red Keep. I honestly wondered if Viserys was naïve beyond recognition or if he was just trying to mitigate the damage. Servants gossip and sooner or later I became one of the many topics of discussion in and around the castle. By and large it seemed that the previous divide was still there, the less I interacted with a servant the more they were unnerved by me.
Case in point my nannies seemed to be bordering on worshipping me for example. In fact I started to strongly suspected that they believed me capable of walking on water. Meanwhile the few times I saw a servant from the kitchens they sped up their pace to move away from me as fast as they could without drawing attention and refused to make eye contact.
To mitigate this I adopted a name-collecting campaign in addition to trying to be as friendly as possible, being one of the most helpful nobles around would hopefully aid me in building up a positive reputation.
On a far more positive note was that Otto 'the dick' Hightower was not around anymore. Sadly he and Ser Criston had not opted for double-suicide but at least he was gone. It was far from a surprise however given that he was an even bigger annoyance than in the canon I would wager with Alicent being a little bit distracted and not as able to provide support. Which fortunately resulted in things following canon and him heckling Viserys one time too many.
Not that I was crazy about his replacement mind you. My predictions were right about the new hand, the man was too canny by half. Every time I saw him I felt as if the man was giving me a full physical with his eyes which unnerved me in the extreme. If I took one step out of line I knew that word would reach him and by him the king.
The king who had been quite happy to resume his ignoring my existence once I was no longer interrupting his endless parties (honestly it spoke volumes of how much of a wastrel Robert was in canon if he had driven the Realm to ruin while it could shrug this off without harm). He did seem marginally interested in me, asking after my progress whenever he happened upon me to whomever I was with. He was much more interested in his never-ending quest to avoid the potential catastrophe that his reign was building towards.
Speaking of said catastrophe however I seemed to have become a sticking point for Alicent and Rhaenyra in the worst possible way. I seemed to have become a new theatre in their little war of influence. Alicent seemed to have precieved my closeness with Rhaenyra as a challenge, that or she took it as a sign of her drifting too from one of her children. Regardless of which it was she had ended up going full helicopter as I had guessed. My guards were her creatures, I was sure of that beyond a doubt. I ate with her at every meal and she carefully spoke to me, she lectured me on Valyria oddly enough, more oddly was that most of what she said seemed in line with what I knew already but it still impresses on me what I already knew. Alicent was very far from a stupid woman, morally dubious perhaps but not stupid.
Then there was the case of my new sister. Oh and I guess I had sisters, a plural now. Helaena had been born right on schedule and with minimal complications, joy. Wait that sounded wrong. I do not mean to say that I am unhappy about her being born or that Alicent (who for better or worse was my mother now) came through it without issue but it did have concerning implications.
From a genetic point of view the slightest change should have completely rerolled the dice and changed who was born. That was still possible at this point and the name was just a coincidence. If it stuck however that meant 'fate' (for lack of a better word) needed to be actively pushed against to change. That meant that it would be difficult to mitigate the eventual war without taking a very active footing and if I did that could mean a worse fate for Westeros. Worse yet, it could impact my chances for survival.
It was this concern that also led to actively seeking to influence Aegon. We were twins after all and he was still very inclined to stick to me even if my treatment and his were drastically different. It seemed to be to the relief of those aware in the court that Aegon was a normal child even if he seemed a bit slothful and temperamental. I did my best to attempt to curb those habits of course given the amount of time we had to ourselves. I was failing as of yet but damned if I was going to give up.
Lastly were my ever-increasing visits to the Dragon Pit with the Grand Maester and several dozen goldcloaks. Apparently the king (oh who am I kidding it was probably Alicent) reasoned that he might as well give me a more gradual exposure to them, I didn't mind since it gave me more time to try and win over Rhaenys. The Queen Who Never was seemed to take everything about me in stride so I might as well try to get on her good side as best I could. Fortunately no one let me within a close proximity to one of the giant fire-cat-lizards of doom.
I was very much of the mind that any moment in which I let my guard down was the moment that I would be screwed beyond all sanity and recognition. I refused to become dragon chow. Or be poisoned. Or burned. Or cut to pieces. Or some twisted combination of all of the above.
So I studied. I worked to win people over. I meticulously made note of what I could gleam from my dreams. And I tried to steer my new family from laying the foundations for events that could eventually doom Westeros and more importantly me.
And so days, gave way to weeks which yielded to months and before I knew it two years had passed. Then came my forth nameday.
Bright side, plague had yet to kill me.Chapter Six: There is no Peace, Only Preludes.
I took a deep breath, then another, then another.
Then I grabbed onto my knees and tried to not start wheezing.
I hated being back to square one on the whole fitness thing.
Go ahead and say what you will about it being unhealthy for a child as young as me to be doing heavy exercise but you know what else is not healthy? Being stabbed because I was not in fighting shape and given the body type I had inherited I could not afford to not start early. Bright side I was not alone in my suffering.
"Gaaaem, wait!" Little (well my size) Aegon whined as he caught up to me breathlessly, don't look at me because I didn't tell him to join in, honestly for all he ignored my attempts to fix him he was still incredibly attached. If nothing else he had picked up my speech patterns easily enough.
"Come Aegon, a little pain will not kill you!" I smiled back at him. Show weakness and they will slaughter me after all.
"It's hard," he responded as if that was a full-proof argument. "And I'm hungry!"
"Only a little bit longer Gaem, come on now," I said happily before taking a breath and launching myself again. I was not terribly worried about Aegon since the veritable swarm of Hightower guardsmen assigned to protect us should not be trailing too far behind.
They were a bit of an annoyance to me because the green-clad men seemed to rotate on a constant basis, to the degree that I never managed to pick up the name of one before they were rotated out. I loathed not being able to build up personal loyalty but I suspected that I understood Alicent's reasoning to a degree, she was trying to keep the men from getting familiar enough to get suspicious.
At least that was my theory, given that she never rotated out any of the other servants I interacted with it might not be true reason.
I shook my head to cast away such concerns. Today was not a day to be glum after all what with it being my birthday tomorrow, well name-day but hey a party in my honor was still a party in my honor. Even if I usually ended up playing a distant second fiddle to Aegon.
I took it as a good sign that the weather was lovely today, bright and sunny with a strong eastern wind pushing away the scent of the city in favor of the salty breeze of the sea.
Perhaps my mood got the better of me because I did not pay much attention as I weaved the halls of the Red Keep. So turning around a corner I did not see the glimmer of metal and ended up crashing face-first into a wall of steel and collapsing to the ground.
"Apologies my prince," Ser Criston informed me politely. I mentally made a note to entomb him in a sceptic tank, wait were sceptic tanks things here? Never mind I will invent one if needed.
"Greetings, Ser Criston," I respond dryly as I rubbed my poor face.
"Gaem!" A young woman's voice rings in alarm as Rhaenyra comes running down the hall in worry. Curse that silly assed nickname, it was endearing on a twelve-year-old but sweet space-bat it got grating when it spread like wildfire. Oh well, let the milking begin.
"Rhae!" I said while scrunching up my face, "I'm sorry, I wasn't looking and I ran into Ser Criston!"
She reached down and hugged me, "No Gaem, do not worry it is not your fault! Ser Criston!" She looked up at her protector who looked like he was trying to desperately to suppress the need to facepalm. "Please be more careful in the future!"
And like that I felt all exhaustion drain from my body as my nemesis got Reputation (Rhaenyra) -1. Only a few more centuries and I might get it down a rating or two. She patted my head before standing up.
"In any case my little knight," She kissed my brow. "Happy are you excited for your nameday?"
I smiled up at her, "Yes, Rhae."
"Gaem!" I heard Aegon shout behind me. I turned around and saw that our guards had just opted to carry the little prince and look for me. Sweet bat, Aegon. Must you make my life difficult.
And on cue the hall got tense. Great. Sure, I'm scared of dying in the coming war (and trust me it's coming) but it was miserable to live in a constant state of tension and drama.
"Princess Rhaenyra," the head guard nodded in a terse greeting.
I noticed the corners of Rhaenyra's mouth twitched a little. Great start it with a slight, why not.
"Your grace, Ser Eberman," Ser Criston corrected the knight. "I think you meant to say, 'Your Grace'."
Hmm, he was protecting Rhaenyra… perhaps he could die heroically getting stabbed in the face by all the guards at once? I was not completely petty. I would even say something nice at his funeral (and maybe only spit on it once or twice).
"Of course, apologies your grace," the newly identified Ser Eberman said with what might be called politeness. "We were looking for the young prince."
In another life I would inquire if they were done comparing their dicks but sadly I was still a few years away from being able to get away with that.
I cannot wait to have a dragon.
"I fear I will have to temporarily relieve you of your charge," Rhaenyra said with a smile. Huh, I am pretty sure she uses that smile when she stabs people.
"We are under orders to retrieve them so that they might be prepared for the feast."
"My good ser, even I have not begun preparations yet," Rhaenyra said sweetly, "You can be assured that I will return my brother to his chamber with enough time to spare. Besides our lessons with the Grand Maester will start soon."
Yap, it had gotten to the point that I was comfortable ahead of Rhaenyra in our schooling. Truthfully, I held back quite a bit in order to ensure we always had at least this time together, it was helpful for building up bonds after all. Although it would only last a year or two more before she was dubbed a woman proper and be deemed sufficiently educated. Which said some terrifying things about the culture.
Ser Eberman seemed to think for a moment, I'd wager that he was weighing if he could force the issue. Fortunately, he eventually opted to give in.
"Of course, good day… your grace."
…
"So the records are clear in that the house Targaryen as part of its transformation in the wake of the doom opted to abandon their three-part naming system in favor of the more common two-part naming system used by the Westerosi." Runciter's lectures were a bit dry at times but I happily scribbled along as he went on. Well attempted to anyway. I hated quills so very much. "And so Maegon Targaryen Litsen became Maegon Targaryen."
Perhaps he had chosen this subject due to it being my Nameday tomorrow but I took it as a gift in any case. It seemed that the Valyrians were more roman-like than the sources had initially pointed at, a fact that my dreams seemed to reaffirm.
I always enjoyed these lessons in the old Maester's chamber although for all her enthusiasm Rhaenyra often lost interest fairly quickly. Even now she eyed the window in a manner that screamed 'just maybe I could survive the fall'. It annoyed me that my nemesis seemed much more content as he looked almost as enthralled by the Maester as I was, damn it all I could claim that he was an idiot. Maybe I could get him burned as a witch?
"Is there any indication of why Maegon opted to do this?" I quarried.
"Ah, now that has been a matter of debate amongst the citadel for a few years," Runciter smiled. "A common hypothesis is that the Targaryens much like the lesser branches across Free Cities sought to strengthen the legitimacy of their claim to the clan with their rival families having been extinguished by the fall."
"My own thought on the matter however," Runciter continued. "Is that the conquest of Westeros was a long held goal of House Targaryen and that this was merely one of many steps towards the realization of this goal."
That made sense to a degree although if he did it on purpose it seemed in line with GRRMs unreliable-narrator fetish to have the Targaryen's attempt to bury any trace of their being a lesser family within the greater Targaryen clan after the Doom.
"So we are to believe ourselves descended from a mere cadet house? Such a theory sounds difficult to believe Grand Maester," Rhaenyra opined. "We had two Valyrian Steel swords did we not? Why would a 'lesser' house have such treasures?"
"Ah, well there we do have an answer in Barth's uncompleted work on the Forty Great Houses," Runciter stopped to clear his throat before continuing. "By compiling the records of the citadel and the libraries of Dragonstone he concluded that Valyrian Steel was rewarded for mighty deeds and acts of great service to the Freehold. While severely weakened by the time of their self-exile from the Lands of the Long Summer, the BLANK family seems to have been one with weighty history. Much like many houses within Westeros today."
He frowned after a moment and focused on Rhaenyra, "Your grace, I do believe that we have covered this material before."
Rhaenyra smiled sweetly, "Apologies Grand Maester, I fear that such things escape me on occasion."
"You are going to be king someday Rhae," I was never one to miss an opportunity. "You should know this."
Rhaenyra blushed a bit at that and began to play with her rings. For the time being at least she seemed to love to play the part of the big sister and it gave me a good way to hopefully prodding her into being a better monarch if it came to it. Or one that would not kill me at least. The trick is always butter her up before lecturing her.
"Queen, prince Gaemon. The term is queen," Runciter corrected with a sigh.
Thank you Runciter. I tilted my head in confusion, "but the one on the throne is a king, isn't it?"
"Not necessarily prince Gaemon," Runciter said with a sigh.
"Regardless Grand Maester," Rhaenyra said while straightening her back and trying to look regal. "I apologize for my distraction, I shall endeavor to be more attentive."
It made me sort of sad that this was probably not going to last.
…
I was still thinking of the lesson after I parted from Rhaenyra with a hug, a kiss and a mental threat to figure out how to give Ser Criston super-dysentery.
It never failed to surprise me how complete Runciter's understanding of House Targaryen and Valyria was. It seemed to me that either Westeros underwent some serious purging of that knowledge specifically or all of the characters (Maesters included) were incredibly ignorant, it was probably the former. I even had an inkling of where those records went. It was easy to say that they were simply lost but in my paranoid mind it seemed perfectly logical that the records were either defamed, burned or hidden to fit any number of agendas over the centuries. Viserys II, the Maesters, the Faith, they all seemed like the kind of people that would incinerate babies when it suits them.
It was a large part of why I was insisting on writing everything down (well that and the fact that I had always struggled to learn without taking notes), I wanted to preserve every scrap of knowledge I could. Of course, my plan was to copy them all over more formally once my hand writing had improved. I was taking much the same philosophy to my dreams, beginning my mornings with ample notes in what I refused to call a dream journal.
Not that there was much to write mind you, far from cliff notes I was getting a first-row seat to an entire damned apprenticeship. A day by day breakdown. So most days I woke up with pitiably little to write aside from some quick notes on the lessons, I would need to smith myself if I wanted to work the steel and any leg up on accelerating my learning would be helpful.
That was not to say that I picked up nothing of interest.
For one thing, I could already gleam clues from her time training her Qelos. Namely an exercise they called 'the Pillars.' Hours spent commanding the young dragon to expel his breath onto pillars of different metals for a very interesting reason. Dragons could be taught to control the temperature of their flames.
For some reason the Order placed an insane emphasis on this, hotter and cooler, for hours they would make her practice on the great pillars. When a flame was too cold to warm a pillar or too hot and begun to melt it she would be struck. I could not understand the why for the life of me but I doubted they did it without cause. I would need a clever dragon that could be effectively taught.
I found the other parts of the dreams far more fascinating, the scraps and hints of Valyrian culture beyond even what the Grand Maester or even old Barth himself seemed to know.
I was aiding Runciter in his compilation of Valyrian culture with my dreams which were given context by the veritable wall of sources the old Maester had gathered. Most of them were complete bull and the good ones were iffy but you take what you can get. Runciter mostly just cannibalized the notes from Barth's incomplete work to get it done.
I had voiced an objection to that, plagiarism was distasteful. Sure I planned to rip-off a number of people from my old world but it was another thing entirely when it was the world I currently lived in. Runciter's answer had disturbed me greatly.
"Do not worry my boy, neither Barth nor even I will be alive to see this done," The old Maester had said it with a smile. "Just be sure to give us some of the credit, better it be read than go unread for the sake of pride."
It was surprisingly crushing to hear that. We were only a year away from his death in canon and I saw it in his hunched and grey frame that the old man did not have a lot of time left. Damn it I had gotten attached, it was my own damned fault given what I knew this would happen.
Honestly it was for the sake of the old man that I was also doodling notes in one of the many studies within the Keep. I had no idea what a printing press would bring to Westeros but I figured it was the least I could do for my mentor to ensure his work was circulated widely among the Maesters and nobility.
"Ah, here you are Gaemon," I heard mothe-Alicent's voice behind me. I shook my head slightly before looking up. I was really sucking at not attaching myself to these people, they would all be dead, insane or be trying to kill me before long.
Alicent smiled at me from atop the stairs which I was seated on. She looked remarkably good for a woman that seemed to be trying to outdo a rabbit in her white dress which while modest clearly highlighted her lithe figure. Proof of said tendency was in her arms as she walked down.
The little blue-eyed child was only a few months old but her already gave me a bad, almost Cole-Not-Suffering feeling. Aemond did not look like a monster, in fact he was the cutest baby I had ever seen and not particularly grumpy or prone to crying but then again no one was born a monster.
"Your guards were looking for you, you know better than to leave the Maesters tower without escort," for all her lecturing I heard a mix of resignation and amusement in her tone. She knew that I liked to troll my guards since I had given up on winning them over, an amusing side-effect of the rotation was that they very rarely knew the labyrinthine halls of the Keep as well as the servants and residents do. Honestly at this point it was more like a comment than a recrimination.
"What are you doing my dear?" She asked sweetly as she sat next to me. It did not take much to see that she was not the sort to sully herself by sitting on a staircase, she was doing it to identify with me. She had been much more active with Hela and Aemond than she had initially been with me and Aegon. I guess she took my closeness with Rhaenyra as a challenge and wanted to ensure that her other children were firmly anchored to her.
"Just clearing up my notes from the Grand Maester, mother," she coped surprisingly well with my oddity.
She eyed me for a moment before I sighed, "Just clearing up my notes, Mom."
It was something she had latched onto as soon as she noted that I had somehow picked up Rhaenyra's fondness for nicknames and informality. Say what you will about Alicent Hightower but a disinterested mother she arguably was not. Just a terrible caretaker, it probably did wonders for us that I was essentially pre-raised.
"And what was today's subject?" She asked as she poked little Aemond's cheek.
"Our deciding to abandon our family name," I said cheerfully. Hard to say but for all my misgivings about her future action, Alicent was easy to talk to.
"Oh? That occurred under Maegon if I recall," she noted with a slight frown in thought. There it was, she was wickedly intelligent and I didn't mean in a scheming way (well not just in a scheming way), she was a perhaps unsurprisingly a complete Valyrian fangirl and generally knowledgeable besides. No clue how she squared that with her thoughts on inheritance but it would hardly be the first time a person made no sense.
"Yes, it was very interesting to-" I was interrupted by a maid rushing down the hall.
"Your grace!" She said breathlessly.
Allicent had an interesting little tell, when she was annoyed the rightmost corner of her right eye twitched just a little.
"Yes?" She asked with a smile thin enough to cut.
The servant had the froze for a moment before collecting herself, "Apologies your grace but it would seem Lords Blackwood and Braken arrived at the Keep at the same time."
"What?" Alicent said standing up quickly while passing Aemond to the nanny behind me. Wait had the nanny been here the entire time? Holy crap I thought we were having a private moment! "I had thought that they were arriving for the feast separately? The ravens had been clear."
And with that she ran off to prevent their feud from ruining my feast and more importantly making her look bad. Not that I blamed her there, a bad feast was a PR nightmare and it was solidly the domain the lady of the castle. Rhaenyra would be doing summersaults if she found out that Alicent had screwed up a feast even indirectly.
Left to my own devices I finished up my notes and with a pinch of mercy made my way to where I suspected my Hightower guards were looking for me. I was not one hundred percent a dick after all.
The Keep was rather busy preparing for tomorrow's feast what with all the nobles streaming into the city in preparation for this and next week's anniversary feast.
I was not sure how long my parents had been married but it seemed that there was a lot of spectacle around this one in particular, I wondered why… oh no. Alicent got pregnant not long after they wed. I was about a year younger than their relationship, I was turning four. That meant that the feast would be commemorate their fifth year which meant…
I wondered if I could build a bomb shelter to hide in for the next few months.