**I managed to publish the wrong chapter, so ignore the Rhaenyra Chapter, he has yet to meet her**
I walked through the Great Gates to the Tarth Keep, flanked by a retinue of 5 guards, Daeron and 4 others, all of us were on horses as we rode through the gate, and before us. We met the host of Brandon Tarth, and his wife Alysa Tarth, aka Connington.
I got off my horse as we approached them, and my retinue did the same, before I walked up to the man on foot.
I was 14, no matter my dragon, nor my maturity. My physical body was still 14, so the man was slightly taller, and although hidden. I could almost see his arrogance, but I didn't need to feel it to know it.
Looking down on a 14-year old Lord, 20 years your junior, made almost sense. As naturally, I'd be weak, feeble and easily manipulated, and even better. Immature.
But I was no longer, nor had I ever been. A weak, feeble and immature boy, my maturity surpassed all others, and now I had the physical power to match it, even far surpass it.
I gave a sort of mental nod to Silverwing.
Surprisingly, while finding new clothes and dealing with other matters, I found that I could communicate with my dragon, Silverwing. It wasn't anything close to a conversation, but I could give some commands.
And so, Silverwing, the majestic dragon that she was, roared loud and clear, as she flew over the city 3 times, each time after the another I thought Lady Alysa Tarth would faint, and it sure as hell looked like it.
And by the third time, although I had planned a fourth, I knew the poor lady wouldn't be able to take it, and making the wife of my host faint within the first few minutes, would do nobody any good.
So with that, I gave Silverwing the command to leave, Silverwing was almost akin to a dog, in the brain sort, except smarter. But the focus point was that she rarely needed more than a single word to understand my intentions, though I doubt she could understand many more.
And as the dragon dissapeared from sight, I approached Lord Brandon, before sticking my hand out.
"Greetings, Lord Tarth, I'm Lord Clement Celtigar, my father. Lord Bartimos Celtigar recently died." I said, sounding sort of downtrodden by the death of my father, which had actually been widespread for some time.
My Maester had sent all our ravens to the different Houses and informed them of the death of my father, so me being the Lord of Celtigar likely didn't come as a shock.
"Ah, yes. Greetings, Lord Celtigar. My condolences for your father, he was a great and a wise man, truly a great tragedy what befell him." He said, and I nodded, a sad expression plastered on my face.
"You greatly honour me, but my Father was perhaps not that great, but he was still my father." I said, and the Lord looked down on me with pity, less so than his wife, still standing by his side. But still apparent.
And then and there, he seemed to remember something.
"Ah, apologies for my lack of courtesy, this is my wife, Lady Alysa Tarth, first daughter of Lord Connigton, and these are my sons, Renly Tarth, Davos Tarth and Robin Tarth." He said, his hands aiming at the 3 different sons.
The eldest, Renly was about 16 years of age, Davos was around 13-14 and Robin was 5.
He then turned to his daughters.
"These are my daughters, Lady Alysia Tarth and Lady Brienne Tarth." He said, showing me his 2 daughters. The oldest perhaps 12, and the youngest could be no more than 8.
I smiled at all of them, shakings hands with them and the Lady, before we all moved into the keep, I got my own room and my guards were directed to the servants barracks, whereas they would sleep.
Later this night, I´d be feasting with Lord Tarth and his family, but first I had to sleep, I hadn't slept this night, so I´d make sure I recovered some of it.
And with that, I went to sleep.
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I heard 3 repetitive knocks as my eyes opened, and I turned towards the door.
"Yes?" I asked sleepily.
"Milord, the feast begins in an hour." The guard said simply, it wasn't Daeron, nor any other I knew.
"Alright." Was all I said as I got up from the bed, and began preparing myself. Taking a shower, ridding my white hair of any dirt before getting clothed.
Once I was done, I exited the keep, flanked by my guard, Ser Daeron and another as we made our way towards the feast hall. Daeron had already been informed on the whereabouts of said hall, so we didn't require a servant to lead our way.
Once we reached the feast hall, we found them already waiting and I was quickly invited to sit beside the Lord, and Daeron came up on my right, standing behind me.
"Greetings." I said, to the rest of the Tarth Family, most of whom simply responded with a nod.
"Very well, let the feasting begin." Lord Brandon Tarth said with a booming laughter, before he sat down and began eating.
The feast quickly turned into a rapid succession of discussion between individuals, the family members of house Tarth began talking with each other, while I enjoyed a conversation with Lord Brandon Tarth.
And in the middle of our lively conversation about how to rule, it took a sudden turn towards formal and the true talks.
"Clement, I must admit, you shocked me with your bond of that dragon. That's no small feat. Word travels fast when dragons are involved." He said, and I smiled. He was right.
"Seems it does. I won't deny it's been... an adjustment. And she´s named Silverwing." I said, and Brandon smiled at that, he had likely heard of the dragon and suspected it.
"An adjustment that makes you a much more interesting man in the eyes of certain lords. Myself included." He said with a sly glint in his eyes.
"I imagine it does. And what exactly is it you're interested in, Brandon?" I asked him, taking a sip from my drink.
"Marriage. My daughter Alyssa is of age. A match with House Celtigar—especially now—could benefit us both. My ships, and your Dragon." He said, taking a sip of his own drink.
"Your Alyssa is a fine lady. No doubt about that. But I'll be honest, Brandon—I'm not looking to marry anytime soon." I said, halting his advancements. And Brandon saw it, this was one of the most straightforward ways of saying no, so although I could see his disappointment, he quickly recovered.
"I wasn't asking for you, Clement. Arthor and Alyssa. A fitting pair, don't you think?" He asked me, turning towards Alyssa.
My eyes widened slightly in surprise on design, I knew that if I rejected him, he would quickly ask for my brother, whom was younger by a few years, and Alyssa was 13, he likely wanted to bet on Alyssa gaining some influence over Arthor.
"Arthor? He's not much for politics or grand alliances. But I won't speak for him. If he's interested, I won't stand in the way." I said with a slight chuckle, and Brandon smiled at that.
"I'm sure he'll come around. And it keeps our houses close without you worrying about wedding bells." He said, and I nodded in agreement.
"That's the idea. You are a man with practical solutions, Brandon." I said.
"Good. Let's drink to future ties." He said, lifting his glass. And I did the same, as the feast continued.
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