"Hold still, your Grace, this might sting a little," Duskendale's maester warned me. A second later, fire blossomed across my shoulders he rubbed some manner of foul liquid on them. I barely managed to contain a yelp of pain, succeeding only because I could dig my fingers into the aging upholstery of the cot I laid on.
"Next time, I would prefer the surprise," I hissed between clenched teeth as the burning refused to fade. If anything, it intensified, as though the skin had been scoured off and drenched in saltwater, even the smallest movement from breathing sending a new wave of agony across my shoulders.
"Oh, no worries." There was a cheery note in the maester's voice I did not like. I could hear him handling something wet somewhere behind me, and I began to tense up. For several moments, I held my position, just waiting for the inevitable, trying to shove the pain out of my mind.
When the maester did eventually add his next mad treatment, I was pleasantly surprised to find it cool and pleasant against my skin. Almost instantly, the pain of the previous treatment faded, the lingering soreness of the past few days trailing not too far behind.
A pleased sigh escaped my lips as I allowed myself to relax into the cot.
"Now, had you wanted to be informed, I would have told you about the poultice that would take a few seconds to prepare," the healer continued, his voice now clearly amused. "That poultice is doing most of the healing, you may be interested to know. The boiled wine was just to clean the skin."
Boiled wine?
Before I could ask about why the premier disinfectant of the seven kingdoms was wasted on some bruises, someone knocked on the door. Before I had a chance to rise from the cot, even before the maester had time to bid the guests enter, the door swung open.
"Vaegon!" My father's jovial tones were easily recognizable even when I was lying on my face. "My son, what a show you put on!"
Had the man not ordered me into the maester's care the moment I reached the stands, I might even have believed that. Alas, his royal business took precedence over his son's health, so I had had to wait here. Getting the skin flensed off my shoulders.
"I acted only as a prince should, father," I said instead. There were witnesses outside the family, so I kept my tongue in check. "There were innocents to protect."
"So you all but threw yourself in front of one of the largest dragons in Westeros to protect the people?" A new voice asked. Maegelle. Hardly an unexpected development. I may have given her some cause to worry. Wait a minute, she knew I had tamed the Cannibal. Why was she acting like it was a new development?
"Maester Orryn, my son's condition hardly is critical," my father addressed the maester with the iron tones of his courtly voice. The voice that brooked no arguments, the voice that proclaimed to all the world that he alone was the master of the seven kingdoms. "I'm certain his lordship will find your services more useful by his side."
Oh, right, the potential informant that was busy caking a mysterious poultice into my shoulders. Then again, it felt quite nice to be free of the soreness of the past days…
"Of course, your Grace." As was to be expected, the maester made no attempt to refuse my father. Instead, he quickly made his exit. The door closed with only the sound of creaking hinges, and I was left only with my family.
"The truth now, Vaegon." The good humor had vanished from my father's voice as I dragged myself into a seated position. Alas, I soon felt the poultice slipping, forcing me into an uncomfortable slouch. "That show with the Cannibal. Was it planned?"
"No," I denied, sighing deeply. "He was bored, as far as I could tell. He dropped in on the joust to inform me of that fact."
"Don't be foolish, Vaegon," he said. "Dragons do not get bored."
"Then your guess is as good as mine," I responded in turn, resignation coloring my words.
Father did not respond. His solemn visage merely studied me for a while, a silence which I decided to turn into a staring contest. My darker eyes met his for several seconds while the frown on his face deepened more and more. Before too long, I was forced to look away.
"I already told you the decision to tame the Cannibal was idiotic, so I won't belabor the point," father grumbled, stroking his beard. "But he is rapidly becoming an even worse mount than I originally thought."
"Look on the bright side: I still managed to win," I said, ignoring how my royal father, master diplomat that he was, had managed to contradict himself within the span of two sentences. "Does this mean I earned my knighthood?"
"All in due time, Vaegon," my father said, making to leave the cramped chamber. "Oh, and the victory feast will begin in an hour. Maegelle? Make sure he actually attends it."
"It's a feast in my honor," I called after him. "Why wouldn't I attend it?"
Alas, the door closed behind father's back before I received an answer. Quite rude, all things considered.
"Vaegon, your judgement has hardly been sound these past few days," Maegelle remarked. "Lying to your family, sneaking to Dragonstone, taming the Cannibal, entering a tourney as a mystery knight…" She began to list off a view examples, forcing me to suppress a cringe, before trailing off. "It even seems like you drew the ire of Sers Darklyn and Rosby."
"Fair," I ceded the point. All of that idiocy within two or three days at most. I was really going to need to take it easy back at the city, or I'd give mother a fit. "Ser Darklyn did not like me using his cousin's big day for what he considered a lark. And Rosby was a sore loser."
"A bit of an overreaction." Maegelle paused before extending a hand. "Come now, the servants should be done drawing your bath. Can't have you attending a feast still dirty from the joust, can we?"
"Of course not," I said, taking the proffered hand to drag myself to my feet, causing the poultice to drop to the floor with a soft plop. Man, that maester knew his healing; my shoulders felt as good as new. My legs, unfortunately, were another story, and all but folded beneath me. Luckily, Maegelle was too kind a person to let me join the remnants of the poultice on the ground.
"Careful now," Maegelle said, a sly note in her voice, keeping me stable while I found my footing. "It would not do the collect more injuries after the joust has finished."
"I make no promises," I grumbled, casting about for the padded doublet that had hastily been discarded. Going about the keep bare-chested was no way to treat your host, so I shrugged it on, to the heavily disguised disappointment of my sister. Oh, I could read those facial twitches just fine.
"Try not to drown in the tub, Vaegon," she warned me, following me out. Clearly, she did trust me to find my way to my chambers… which I had never been to. Or been informed that they existed. On second thought, her presence was a welcome one. "I will not fish you out."
"I'm quite capable of remaining upright," I said, rolling my shoulders experimentally as we trundled down one of the many narrow corridors. The maester was going to be receiving some visitors about that ointment later, this stuff was fantastic!
Oddly enough, Maegelle did not seem terribly inclined to continue our playful arguing, leaving us to walk in a silence that did not quite feel comfortable. There was something missing, replaced by a tension lurking somewhere beneath the surface. Figuring out what it was would have been difficult without doing some digging, and I was short on time.
I found my chambers, bathed, and got changed. Mayhaps I had been lied to about how much time I had available because the feast was in full swing by the time I arrived in the great hall of the Dun Fort.
The trestle tables were filled to the brim with nobles and knights and the wealthier merchants, while servants carted out the first courses. Off in the corners, musicians plied their trade, filling the air with soft music that was tragically smothered by the boisterous conversations and murmured talks of the hall.
"Prince Vaegon of House Targaryen!" The herald's announcement went the way of the music, ignored by all. A few guests, those seated closest to the entrance did notice, but little came of it beyond a cup raised in a toast.
"Prince Vaegon!"
"Your Grace!"
"Prince Vaegon!"
Quite a lot of toasts, actually.
I managed to make my way to the dais without too much hassle, answering each toast with a respectful nod. Sliding into the only open seat remaining, one awfully close to the seat of honor than I was used to, I was ready to enjoy the feast in dutiful silence.
Being seated close to the young heir to the house of Darklyn spoiled that plan a bit.
"Prince Vaegon! Prince Vaegon!" The lad was nearly breathless with excitement, restless in his seat. Had he arranged for me to be seated here? He did seem excited enough to meet me… "The dragon- you scared it off- incredible!"
Even though the lad was stumbling over his words, the sheer joy and excitement on display had a smile growing on my face in no time. He reminded me of my younger siblings, if a bit less restrained. And without the crippling character deficiencies that I was trying to fix.
"You praise me too much, young lord Darklyn," I said with an easy smile. Was my diplomatic smile wasted on a boy of six name days? Perhaps. Did that stop me? Of course not. "Any of my family could have done the same. I was merely in the right place at the right time."
Or rather, the Cannibal was in the right place at the right time. Without him, I would have been eliminated quickly. With him, I got to play the brave princeling. Not the worst turn of events. And a turn I was able to use to my advantage.
My blessed father, however, had other ideas.
"A toast!" He declared, rising to his feet with that unreadable smile of his. "To my son, Vaegon! To his victory, and his bravery in chasing off the dragon! And to his future efforts in catching it!"
Oh.
Clever bastard.
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