Aelyx – 05
I let out a shout of pure joy as I flew above the waters of the Narrow Sea. There was nothing in the world like soaring through the air on dragonback. I had always loved flying with my father and stepmother, but dancing on the wind atop your own dragon was incomparable. A tug on the reigns sent Vhagar banking left and downward. A wild grin split my face even as the chain dug into my waist. My blood sang as Vhagar raced towards the water. To my right, a red streak darted in the same direction, keeping pace with my descent. Another touch to the reigns sent Vhagar rocketing upwards long before we reached the water. My father however continued downwards, pulling up only at the last possible moment. Craxes's claws sent up a spray of foam as he skimmed the water. One day I would be confident enough to perform such a feat, but for now, I was content to watch.
The last three weeks since I claimed Vhagar, had been hectic. Between dealing with the fallout from that shitshow of a night and learning how to ride Vhagar I'd hardly had a moment to myself. Not that I was complaining, Vhagar was worth any amount of hassle. It had not even been two fortnights, and yet I could not imagine life without my darling girl. The immediate aftermath of my knighting had been chaotic. No one outright objected, of course, they hardly could when it was the King himself who had bestowed the honor upon me. But Queen Alicent and her cronies had obliquely questioned the dubbing. Cloaking themselves in false concern they asked if a boy of four and ten was truly capable of upholding the responsibilities that came with the spurs. At first, I had been somewhat confused. I had been granted a knighthood not a lordship, it came with no lands or incomes, nothing that could have added any power to the Blacks. However, after a bit of contemplation, I realized the Hightowers undoubtedly abhorred the idea that Aemond and by extension themselves might owe the son of the Rogue Prince a debt. The king had brushed them off assuring his wife, that his brother would guide me through all of the trials and responsibilities of knighthood. That statement did not reassure the queen in the slightest, although I could understand her there, Daemon Targaryan was no one's idea of a mentor, and the idea of his mirror image mounted atop Vhagar would be enough to unnerve even die-hard Black supporters.
The objections had been silenced by Viserys as he led the procession back to Hight Tide, for all his faults our sovereign was not one to reverse a decision once made. Upon returning to the keep we found a crowd summoned by the night's events waiting for us. Before the assembled residents and visiting courtiers, the king proceeded to recount the heroics of his nephew. While I squirmed in embarrassment, Visereys cheerfully narrated how I had boldly rushed into danger, a credit to my grandsire Baelon the Bold, and upon seeing Prince Aemond imperiled, thrown myself before the world's largest dragon. He had capped off the speech by announcing my knighthood and declaring me a true and valued member of House Targaryen.
At which point he had called his middle son forward and scolded him for his ingratitude. He had then instructed the boy to thank me for saving his life. Aemond had done so in an almost mechanical manner, I admit that I had felt a certain amount of unease at the sheer rage I had seen in the prince's eyes, and for a moment I had worried he would leap for my throat right then and there. Just when I thought the night could not get awkwarder Viserys then turned to his wife.
"Dear, don't you have anything to say to Ser Aelyx."
Despite looking almost pained she had done what she had been implicitly ordered to do.
She nodded to me "I thank you Ser Aelyx, for defending my son." The sight of Alicent Hightower being forced to give thanks to his son had been almost more than my father to bear without breaking down into hysterics as he stood to the side, a massive grin splitting his face. The strangest thing was that upon reflection do believe that Queen had been partially sincere. After all, she had no way of knowing that without my interference Aemond would have successfully claimed the dragon and she did truly believe I have saved her son's life. Unfortunately, any gratitude she may have felt was overshadowed by the trepidation that my possession of Vhagar caused.
I shook myself from thoughts of that night when I saw my father gesturing to me from Caraxes. In addition to teaching me how to ride, over the past few weeks, I had been instructed on the signals that dragon riders used to communicate with one another while in the air. This one meant that it was time to land. I followed him as we winged back to Driftmark. As we approached the island, I surprised him by soaring past Caraxes and over the Nest heading to the interior to the interior of the island. As soon as I was sure my father was following me, I began to search for a place to land. I quickly spotted a rocky little valley that appeared to be inhabited only by a few wild sheep. I settled Vhagar down onto the valley floor, and moments later Caraxes landed beside her. I dismounted from my dragon, while my father did the same.
"What's this about?" he asked.
"I needed to talk to you about something."
He arched an eyebrow. "And you had to do it here, instead of at the keep."
I shook my head. "This isn't exactly something I wanted anyone to overhear."
His face lit up with a grin. "This is about a girl, isn't it? Has some pretty little serving maid caught your eye? You are at the right age for it."
"You've visited Dragonstone six times in the past few weeks." I cut him off, my tone not quite accusatory.
His expression turned guarded. "That's not really any of your business now it."
"Will the princesses' next children be born with silver hair rather than brown?" I asked bluntly. He rocked back on his heels, surprise etched across his features.
"You have hardly, been subtle in your actions, and already many speak of the attention you once paid to the princess before her marriage."
"As I said boy, it hardly your business. Did you bring me out here to lecture me on respecting Laena's memory? Because I assure you the dead care naught for the actions of the living. Or perhaps you mean to speak on the sanctity of marriage, if so, you would do well to remember your very existence owes itself to my lack of respect for those vows." I flinched slightly; it was rare for my father to throw my bastardry in my face.
Regardless I pressed on. "And what of Ser Laenor?"
At that, my father sneered. "The man is a cuckold, all the realm knows it, even if they don't dare speak it. He has cowered from confronting Breakbones, do you think he would dare raise an objection to me." And you will be content, I wondered, serving as Rhaenrya's clandestine lover, seeing another man styled as her husband and eventual Prince-Consort. Knowing that any future children you may have with her would be called Velaryon. No, I knew my father and knew his pride. At that moment I became absolutely certain that he had been behind Qarl Correy's murder of Laenor.
"Ser Laenor is not Marrano Brenaar. He is not the destitute son of a dead Sealord. You cannot simply needle him into challenging you to a duel and then cut him down"
"Can't I?"
"Well, you probably could." I conceded. My father could get under a person's skin simply by breathing, when he was actually trying, he could easily piss someone off so badly that they would fly into a rage and challenge him to a fight they could never win.
"But you shouldn't. If you marry Rhaenyra after killing Laenor it could cost her the support of the Velaryon fleet, Velaryon gold, and of Princes Rhaenys atop the Red Queen." At last, my father looked contemplative. I knew of course that he had never planned on cutting Laenor down himself, but hopefully, a recitation of the potential consequences would be enough to sway him from organizing an assassination. Moral reasonings would not reach him, but pragmatic ones might. He reached out and ruffled my hair.
"No need to look so grim son, it's not as though I'm actually planning on killing the sword swallower." I nodded uncertainly, unsure of the effect of my words.
"Now, let us get back to High Tide." He turned back to remount Caraxe, ending the conversation.
Aelyx - 06
"Aelyx, I am going to head towards the wharf, are you finished here?" The call came, interrupting my conversation with the merchant. I turned from the man to glance over my shoulder at my companion.
"Not quite, go on without me," I replied. Laenor gave a wave of acknowledgment, before spinning on his heel to stroll down the sloping street toward the docks. I returned my attention to the merchant who attempted to hide his annoyance at the disruption.
"Now, where were we?"
"I believe ser that we had settled on twenty stags a yard." He prompted.
I narrowed my eyes. "I don't believe we had settled at all. I think five and ten stags a yard is more than fair."
"I would not make a profit if I sold it so low. Eight and ten is the lowest I can go"
"One hundred for all six yards" I countered
"Deal." I frowned, I suspected I had been slightly bilked, but the last few years on Driftmark had given me a fairly good sense of the average price of most of the goods moving through the markets of Spicetown, so I knew I had not been outrageously cheated.
"I will have the silk packaged and delivered to High Tide, immediately ser."
"And I will see to it that payment is sent to you." While he may have insisted on immediate payment from a member of his class or even some of the lower nobility, I was now an undisputed member of the royal house and a close associate of his liege lord, my credit was not in question. After straitening out the last few details I departed the fabrics stall and wandered down towards the water. Aside from the Nest, Spicetown was my favorite place on the island. A dozen different cultures converged in this burgeoning trade port, creating an atmosphere of beautiful chaos. Ships from as far north as Ibben and as far south as the Summer Isles docked here. A merchant might hawk Tyroshi brandy next to another selling Westerlands jewelry, who was in turn flanked by a man extolling the virtue of Braavosi dyes. Of course, what was displayed by the street vendors represented only a small fraction of the merchandise that passed through the town. The rest of the business on the island was primarily the result of wholesalers who bought the entire contents of the ship's holds before transferring the cargo to departing vessels and onto its final destination. Driftmark, I had long since learned, was a trading hub rather than a final destination and ninety-nine percent of the cargo that passed through its ports was headed somewhere else. There was a certain energy to the whole place and if you asked any passerby on the street, they would assuredly tell you that Spicetown was well on its way to becoming one of the great trading centers of the known world. And yet if nothing changed, a decade from now Spicetown would be destroyed. The Triarchy would burn the town, loot the wealth and enslave large segments of the populace. I gritted my teeth; I was well aware that the Dance itself was most likely inevitable. As long as Aegon, Aemond, and Daeron drew breath there would be people willing to try and put them on the throne. But that did not mean that the course of the war itself was set in stone. I was fairly confident that between my foreknowledge and Vhagar I would be able to significantly tip events in favor of the Blacks. Worse came to worse, I would just make sure that I remained close enough to the bay to intercept the fleet, it is not as though it would be the first time that Vhagar has burned an armada.
As I approached the docks, I began to search for Laenor. This was the fourth such excursion on which I had accompanied him. For all that my father had assured me that he had no intention's on Laenor's life, the simple truth was that I didn't trust the Rogue Prince. And so, I had resolved to join the Velaryon heir on his frequent trips to Spicetown. I hoped that my presence would dissuade any agents of my father from attempting any assassination. However, after the last three uneventful visits, I had begun to relax. The one thing that kept me wary was the well-known disintegration of Laenor's relationship with Qarl Correy. The two men's romance had been something of an open secret around the island and over the past few weeks Qarl had been stomping around like a jilted lover. I had honestly begun to wonder if Laenor's death really resulted from a domestic dispute. It did make a certain degree of sense; lover's quarrels had been resulting in murders since time immemorial. Over the millennia far more people had died at the hands of a romantic partner than as a result of some elaborate assassination plot.
I finally caught sight of Laenor standing by a docked ship. He was conversing, with a man whom I assumed was the ship's captain. I had not known Laenor, particularly well before Laena's death, but over the last few weeks, I had come to genuinely enjoy his company. He was hardly the typical Westrosi idea of masculinity, having absolutely no interest in martial pursuits. But, he was well educated and urbane with a clever mind for trade. Oh, he had flaws, he absolutely refused to put effort into anything that he did not enjoy or at least possess a talent for, and his preference for passive-aggressive sniping instead of confronting his issues could be grating.
He noticed me out of the corner of his eye and gave a nod of acknowledgment, but continued the conversation. As he did not indicate that I was to join him, I stood back and watched the unloading process. The cargo was hoisted from the hold by a treadwheel crane and then swung over the docks, to waiting wagons. Suddenly I heard a crack emanating from within the crane. I watched with horror as the rope went slack, sending its cargo plunging onto the docks below.
"Look out!" I shouted dashing forward, my voice echoed by a dozen similar cries. Our calls alerted two men speaking in the shadow of the ship. They turned as one. I had a brief moment to see the confusion written across their faces before several hundred pounds of crates were crushed into the docks' wooden planks.
I stumbled to stop as the pier shook and splintered. It was a testament to the sturdiness of the construction that half of us weren't pitched into the sea. I moved forward cautiously, no longer in a hurry I had no illusion about anyone's ability to survive that. Laenor Velaryon was dead.
Realizing the crowd gathering around me, I raised my voice.
"That is Ser Laenor under there, someone needs to go to High Tide and tell them what happened." Immediately a few men peeled away from the group and sprinted towards the keep.
"The rest you help me move this." Maybe it was the fine cut of my clothes marking me as highborn, or maybe they were just reacting to the only person issuing commands in this mess, but they followed me."
We began to haul the debris away. It was hard punishing work, in addition to the weight the shattered crates had left sharp fragments of wood and massive splinters strewn throughout the pile. At some point, someone handed me a pair of gloves to stop me from cutting my hands into ribbons. When we finally cleared the ruble the sight we found was grotesque, even in a world used to sudden and violent death. The two men had been turned into a paste by the weight o the crates. It was only through the coloring of the clothes and hair that I was able to tell the two corpses apart. I fought down a surge of nausea. Around me, several of the sailors and dockhands were not so strong and began to heave. The smell of vomit tipped me over the edge and I stumbled to the side of the dock to let loose my breakfast.
"Out of the way!"
"Move!" Two voices shouted through the din, as their owners shoved their way through the milling crowds. I recognized the tones of Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand I moved to intercept them. They knew what had occurred as soon as they saw my face.
"You don't want to see this." I tried to tell them. They did not heed my warning.
Aelyx – 07
I had imagined my first visit to my family's ancestral home more times than I could count. Until a few months ago I never would have considered that the first time I would set foot on the island would be for a wedding. But it was a wedding I was here for. More specifically I was here for my father and cousin's marriage. Although I had known that this was inevitable the moment that Laenor perished on that dock, I had hoped to convince my father to delay the marriage for at least a year. Unfortunately, when I approached him about the potential optics of marrying Rhaenyra when both were still in their morning periods, I was rebuffed. I carefully shoved aside my suspicions about their eagerness to marry, the wedding would already create enough of a scandal as it was, and there was no need for the groom's son to make it worse by accidentally insinuating something.
Craning my neck, I looked down at the island below me. Unlike the depiction I vaguely remembered from the show, Dragonstone was far from barren. The volcanic soil had created a swathe of highly arable farmland than ran around the island resting between the coastal fishing villages and the foothills of the volcano. Swooping low I scattered one of the many flocks of sheep doting the landscape. Unlike the Dragonpit in King's Landing or the Nest on Driftmark, Dragonstone did not possess a dedicated structure for housing dragons. Instead, the riders tended to simply turn their dragons loose on the island, allowing them to make their lairs where they choose. The wild dragons tended to make their homes deep in the interior of the island along the slopes of the dragonmount, while those who had a rider typically settled near the keep.
On the ground, I spotted a large dragon of red lounging beside a smaller beast of gold. Caraxes and Syrax curled up beside one another. I angled Vhagar downward towards the two. Both looked up at the approach but neither stirred beyond that. I set Vhagar down a hundred feet or so from Caraxes and Syrax. I unchained myself from the saddle and clambered down the side of the dragon. Upon reaching the ground, I gave Vhagar a reassuring pat before I began the short trek toward the castle. I had barely made it a tenth of the distance when I saw a group of riders headed toward me. As they got closer, I noted that the front rider was leading another horse beside his mount. I patiently waited for their approach and they soon reached me and reigned to a stop. Their leader raised a hand in welcome.
"Ser Aelyx, I am Ser Mychal Brune, I serve in Princess Rhaenyra's household guard. I have been ordered to escort you to the castle."
I nodded, returning the greeting. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ser Mychal. I take it this horse is for me." I indicated the riderless equine.
"Indeed, it is Ser." The knight from Cracklaw Point responded. So, saying he maneuvered himself and his horse my mount was freed from the small clump of horsemen. Stepping forward, I placed a foot in the stirrup and swung up into the saddle. Once settled I glanced at my escort curiously.
"The horses aren't bothered by the dragons?"
"Most of the horses from the Princess's stables have become used to the smell of dragons. Although I still wouldn't bring them closer than a hundred yards." He graciously replied. As we rode toward the castle, I engaged the man in idle conversation and found him a pleasant companion. The small talk allowed my mind to wander and as it had often done over the past month my thoughts turned to Laenor Velaryon. Or more specifically his death. A closer investigation of the crane had revealed that the cracking sound I'd heard was the result of a broken pully, the shattering of which sent the load of crates plummeting towards the dock. As for the crane operators, they were nowhere to be found. Multiple witnesses had seen several men sprinting from the area and the harbor master gave the names of those who'd been working the crane that day. Their flight was not an indication of guilt, they might have run upon realizing who it was they had accidentally killed, rightly fearful that accident or not the Lord of Driftmark would have made them pay for his son's death with their lives. Lord Corlys had placed a bounty of a thousand dragons per head, but I doubted the men would ever be found. Between Spicetown and Hull, over a dozen ships had departed the island that day. They could have jumped on any one of them and quietly slipped into the semi-transitory population of a hundred different ports.
In the days following Laenor's death, I had repeatedly turned the events over in my head, trying to come to grips with what had occurred. In the end, I had come up with three different explanations for the events. The first possibility was that Laenor's death was a genuine accident. Indeed, had I not known that in another life Laenor would have been murdered by Qarl Correy, this is what I would have believed. The second and third possibilities both revolved around my father organizing his death. While I doubted, he could have engineered the exact sequence of events that I witnessed, he could have arranged for his more disreputable acquaintances to shadow Laenor with the goal of arranging an accident. Those hypothetical assassins could have bribed the dockworkers to sabotage the crane, with the men unaware of whom they were killing until it was too late. Alternatively, he could have stuck a deal with a magical practitioner to cast some sort of blood curse on Laenor that had resulted in the accident. I found the last explanation the most dubious.
The simple truth was that I did not know, and I would likely never know. I had not confronted my father beyond casting him a few suspicious and accusatory looks. There was no real point to it, if he had arranged the death, he would never admit it, not even to me. And if he hadn't, well there was nothing quite so awkward as falsely accusing your father of murder. In a twisted way, I almost needed to believe that Laenor's death had been at my father's hand. If it wasn't the implications were almost too terrifying to contemplate. Both Laenor and Laena had died on schedule as it were. Laena I could begrudgingly accept as I now lived in a time and place where childbirth was a leading cause of death for women. No amount of foreknowledge could change the fact that beyond knowing the importance of sterilization I had no idea how to safely deliver a baby. On the other hand, if I had truly prevented my father from organizing Laenor's murder only for him to perish in an accident, did that mean that the universe was somehow correcting itself? That everyone had an appointed time to die and nothing I did would change that?
I shook off the thought. No, my father had murdered Laenor to clear the way for his marriage to Rhaenyra I was certain of it. This of course uncomfortable realization that I was no longer comfortable around my father. I had long know known that he was a ruthless killer. A man who would destroy whatever and whoever stood between him and his desires. But it was different when he murdered someone I knew and liked. As I rode through the gates of Dragonstone, I came to a final resolution. I would stay for the wedding and long enough to see my sisters settled in their new home, but after that, I would leave. I would depart the island and take up King Visery's offer to visit King's Landing. I'd been born on Lys before my father moved me to Driftmark, then to Bloodstone, then to Pentos, and finally back to Driftmark. It was time for me to explore the mainland of Westeros. After King's Landing, I intended to tour the continent. In my previous life, I had participated in many a discussion about the systematic inability of the Black's to properly cultivate allies. Perhaps Vhagar landing on their front lawns, when the Greens could only boast of Sunfyre, would remind a few people of the oaths they had sworn.
Aelyx - 08
I stalked along the Street of Silk, a scowl on my face. Yesterday had been an object lesson in the way that even little details were important. Despite the King's effusive insistence that I visit King's Landing months prior in the aftermath of the Vhagar incident, the reception I received upon arrival had been decidedly chilly. It was unsurprisingly my father's fault. I'd completely forgotten that Visery's had been most displeased with Rhaenyra and my father's marriage and as such he and my father were currently on the outs. It wouldn't last of course; this incident was just another turn on the revolving door of the two brothers' endlessly masochistic relationship. Unfortunately, it did mean that I was not entirely welcome at court at the moment, and would likely be cutting my visit to King's Landing shorter than I originally intended. While I was here though, I planned on seeing a woman I had not spoken with in half a decade.
Stopping in front of one of the numerous richly appointed buildings that lined the road, I scanned the sign to ensure I was in the right place. It read The Silken Serpent; this was it. I pushed inside and found myself in a lavish parlor. Men whose clothes spoke of wealth were scattered across half a dozen settees while being tended to by a flock of scantily clad women. Upon my entrance one of the whores, noted me and sashayed in my direction. Dark brown hair fell in waves across bare shoulders and a smirk played at her lips as she looked me up and down. I knew what she saw, an inexperienced lordling barely on the cusp of manhood, they would take me for everything I had if I gave them half a chance.
"And, what can we do for you?" She drawled with the faintest hint of a Stormlander accent.
I fought to keep my eyes on her face rather than the interesting cut of her dress. "I am here to see my mother."
Her brow furrowed in confusion as she gave me another examination. She had undoubtedly noted my short-cropped silver hair and purple eyes when she approached, but such features were not as uncommon as one might think in King's Landing. But, when you took those features together my age and statement, the conclusion was inescapable.
"Your, Lady Myssaria's son." She breathed; eyes wide.
"Indeed, I am…" I trailed off expectantly.
"Thea, my prince." She supplied. "I'll take you to her right away." So, saying she awkwardly turned and began to walk toward the stairway at the back of the room. During the brief journey, she glanced over her shoulder several times, clearly unsure how to interact with me. I caught her eye and gave a reassuring smile.
"Your mother should be in her solar." She explained as we ascended the stairs. Upon reaching the second floor she led me through the narrow corridors, unfortunately not all the doors had been fully shut and I caught glimpses of a few things I could have done without seeing. When we arrived at a closed door, Thea gave three sharp knocks.
"Enter" A familiar voice came through the wood. Thea pushed open the door, before stepping aside to let me enter. I entered the solar and saw a beautiful Valyrian-featured woman in her early thirties seated behind a desk piled high with ledgers.
"Mother" I greeted. A massive grin splitting my face.
"Aelyx" she breathed. Her violet eyes widened in surprise. Surging to her feet, she hurried around the desk and engulfed me in a hug, a gesture I gladly returned. She cupped my face with her hand, looking up at me, and with a jolt, I realized I was now taller than her.
"Oh, my beautiful boy, look how big you've gotten, almost a man grown."
We stepped back, drinking in the sight of one another. It had been five years since I had seen my mother. We had parted on Bloodstone in 115 when my father had taken me to Pentos to meet his new bride. I would later learn that my mother had departed the island just days later, well aware that the king's former paramour would be a tempting target following his de facto abdication.
"And you're as beautiful as I remember mother." She graced me with a soft smile at the compliment, before sinking into one of the two chairs that sat in front of her desk. I took the other.
"Tell me everything, how have been these last few years." She requested.
"I'm sure you already know most of it, we lived in Pentos for a year before we returned to Driftmark."
"And the Velaryons" she cut in. "Did they treat you well?"
"Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys treated me as well as could be expected, the fact that they knew me as heir to the Stepstones before I was their step-grandson probably helped."
"And Lady Laena, I have heard that the two of you are quite close."
I paused, understanding what she was really asking. Leaning, over I took one over her hands in my own. "Laena was very kind to me; she was the mother of sisters and I loved her dearly. But you are my mother and nothing will ever change that." Tension that I hadn't noticed drained from her body, and I quickly sought to change the subject.
"I am certain you heard that I claimed Vhagar."
"I think all of Westeros has heard that news." She informed me. "My son, a dragon rider." There was an undisguised note of triumph in her voice. She had long been bitter about the events surrounding my birth and Viserys' order to return the dragon egg my father had procured for my cradle.
"And you mother, how have you been." I paused unsure how to phrase my question. "Are you..." I trailed off and vaguely waved at the closed door and brothel beyond.
"No," she said, smiling with amusement. "Daemon was quite generous during the course of our relationship. By the time we parted ways I had entire chests of jewels and I will never have to earn a living in that manner again."
"Then why the brothel?"
"Oh, the brothel is but a small part of what I do. From here my reach spreads from the Red Keep to the Gate of the Gods, to Crownlands beyond. One day my network will reach across all of Westeros and the Free Cities. The secrets that pass through these walls bring me more gold in a week than most landed knights will see in a year."
"And the City Watch, they don't give you any trouble?"
"Oh, there are many in the Goldcloaks who still remember your father fondly. I pay a fraction of the normal protection fees and I have entered into profitable business arrangements with several of the captains."
I sighed so my father was a murderous former warlord, while my mother was a madame and information broker with ties to organized crime. I paused as a thought occurred.
"Have you ever considered deepening that relationship? If you put some of the Guard directly on your payroll, you could probably be running the district by the end of the year."
My mother examined me thoughtfully. "You really aren't a child anymore, are you? It is definitely a thought. I normally prefer subtler forms of power, but I cannot deny that ruling the streets has a certain degree of allure." She drummed her fingers thoughtfully.
"Enough, of that though" She dismissed the topic with a flick of her wrist. "How long will you be in King's Landing?"
"I had planned on spending a few moons here, but given the current climate, I believe that I will depart within a sennight."
"Where will you go?"
"I intend, to tour the realm. I'll go south first through the Stormlands, then up through the Reach, Westerlands, and into the North itself, before returning down through the Vale."
"An ambitious journey."
"Vhagar in a day what would take others weeks of travel. I have no lands, no responsibilities, why shouldn't I see the world."
"Indeed, why shouldn't you? But until you leave, I hope you will make time to visit me."
"Of course, mother, we have years to make up for. I intend to spend as much time here as I can." Her face lit up at my response and we spoke until the sun was low in the sky.
Aelyx – 09
I rode beside Borros Baratheon at the head of a small column of hunters. We were ten miles from Storm's End, picking our way through an increasingly dense forest. A few dozen feet ahead of us a group of men tramped forward, each holding a dog on a lead. A half mile ahead of them another line of men and dogs advanced through the brush. We were on the hunt for a boar that had been spotted near our location, several days prior.
This was my sixth day at Storm's End, and to my surprise, I was enjoying my stay. Storm's End itself was and I was very much enjoying the opportunity to explore one of the oldest castles in Westeros. It was clear that the fortress had not been designed to awe or flaunt its owner's wealth in the same manner as High Tide or the Red Keep, no this was a castle built to command to landscape and withstand a siege. But there was a certain beauty in that pragmatic functionality. As for the lord of the castle, Borros was not someone whom I would have normally sought out to spend time with, but he was fairly tolerable in small doses especially if you had earned his respect, which saving your cousin from a rampaging dragon was apparently enough to do. To put it bluntly, he was an egotistical asshole, but a lifetime of experience with Daemon Targaryen had taught me how to manage such people. As for his wife Elenda Baratheon, she was what I imagined my mother would have been like if she had been born a noble of Westeros rather than a Lysenni slave. Which meant she scared the shit out of me. Every time we talked, I had the uncomfortable feeling that she was weighing exactly how much I could benefit her family.
As we rode Borros and I conversed.
"What was it like growing up on Bloodstone?" He asked.
"It was chaotic," I responded. "My father was constantly flying off to deal with one crisis or another. If it wasn't Tetrarchy backed pirates it was one of his lords refusing to hand over taxes, and if it wasn't that, the Dornish could always be counted on to make trouble."
Borros snorted "Making trouble is the only thing the Dornish are good for." He paused. "You said he had trouble getting his lords to hand over taxes. My lords know exactly what would happen to them if they try and cheat me and I don't even need a dragon to make them obey."
I was somewhat skeptical of that claim. Tax evasion was the national hobby of the Westerosi nobility. But I was hardly going to contradict my host.
"The thing to understand about the Kingdom of the Stepstones is that it was not a particularly stable entity. My father and Lord Velaryon showed up with an army and seized the islands, they controlled them, but they never really ruled them in the same manner you rule Stormlands."
"Oh?" Lord Borros arched his eyebrow.
"My father is a man of action at heart." I continued. "He has little patience with the day-to-day minutia of governance. That would have been fine if the systems to rule were already in place, but when it came to building an entire administration brick by brick," I snorted. "In the end, he found it easier to just appoint his favorite sell sword commanders to control different islands and let them do as they pleased."
"Let them do as they pleased?" Borros questioned; his interest sparked. It was not hard to see why, as many in Westeros now believed that if Rhaenyra ascended it would be the Rogue Prince who ruled in truth.
I shrugged "So long as they provided money and men for war, he cared naught what they did in their lands." I doubted a single conversation insinuating that he might have a large degree of autonomy under Rhaenyra would be enough to tip the proud Stormlander into the Black camp, but it couldn't possibly hurt to plant those seeds.
Before we could continue our conversation, a hunting horn rang out.
"They've spotted it," Borros exclaimed his eyes alight with excitement.
A great howling arose from the forest as the first line of men released the bay dogs to corner boar. We quikly dismounted and continued forward on foot. The forest was too dense to make out what was happening so far in front of us, but the howls of the dogs were easy to follow.
"We got him cornered." Came the shout from up ahead. After a few more minutes of jogging, we caught up to the bay dogs and saw they had trapped the boar in a hollow. The beast was massive, two hundred pounds easily, covered with bristle and sporting a pair of razor-sharp tusks. The dogs were not attacking it directly, but instead were harrying and corralling it. At a sharp command from Borros, the catch dogs were let slip and dashed into the fray. They shoved their way past the smaller bay dogs and attacked to boar. One came in from the side and leaped up behind the boar's head grabbing it by its ear and dragging its head down toward the ground.
The moment he saw the boar go down Borros dashed forward, while I followed closely behind. He drew his boar knife with the ease of long practice. He came to a stop just behind the struggling dog and boar, bringing his arm up. But, before he could drive the dagger home, the boar bucked to the side, shaking the dog off.
"Oh no, you don't" Borros snarled. Dropping his knife, the Baratheon grabbed the boar's hind leg. He yanked the leg up, throwing the boar off balance, it twisted unsteadily in his grip trying to escape.
"Aelyx now!" he shouted, arms straining with the effort of keeping the pig from escaping. Moving around his side, I gripped my knife and brought it down into the boar's back between the shoulder blades. The metal slid smoothly through flesh until it was halted by the cross-guard. Hot blood spurted over my hand and forearm. The boar collapsed as the steel punctured its heart. I went down with the animal, yanked by my death grip on the knife embedded in its back. It was only when the boar ceased thrashing that I released my grip on the hilt and got shakily to my feet. Borros slapped me on the shoulder and laughed.
"That's a big one Ser Aelyx." He leaned over and pulled the dagger from the boar with a mighty tug. He pressed the blade into my hands.
"You'll want to keep this, a memento of your first hunt." I looked from the knife to Borros Baratheon's smiling face. I gave him a grin of my own. The rest of the party crowded around me offering similar congratulations. While I doubted hunting would ever be my favorite activity, I couldn't deny that I was enjoying the friendly atmosphere and sense of camaraderie. On our way back to the horses I received several invitations to the holdfasts of various lords throughout the Stormlands. It appeared as though my voyage would last for longer than I had anticipated.
Cregan - 01
The sword was wrenched from hands and sent skittering across the dirt of the training yard. Cregan growled in frustration, glaring up at his opponent. The Targaryen prince only grinned back.
"You lasted longer this time Cregan." Aelyx offered.
"I still wasn't even close to beating you." He crumbled.
Aelyx rolled his eyes. "I am three years older and a lot closer to being full-grown than you. I would have to be staggeringly incompetent for you to win."
"Ser Aelyx is correct Lord Cregan." The Winterfell's Master of Arms spoke up. "You are very skilled, but you are also at an age where a few years make a world of difference. It will be a far more even match later in life."
Cregan grimaced knowing the older boy and Master Beron were right. No matter what he tried, Aelyx was just too strong, too fast for him to gain the upper hand. That didn't make the fact that the Targaryen barely appeared to be flushed while Cregan was soaked with sweat any easier to swallow.
Seeming to sense his discontent, Aelyx turned to Master Beron.
"I think we are finished for today."
The Master at Arms looked from Aelyx to Cregan.
"Aye, I think you are. Lord Cregan, tomorrow I shall show you some tricks for getting inside the guard of an opponent with a longer reach."
So, saying he nodded at the lordlings, and wandered off across the training yard, barking criticisms and corrections to the sparring pairs as he went.
Cregan followed Aelyx to the corner of the yard where they passed their training swords off to a waiting servant, while other attendants helped them strip out of their padding.
Over the past several days he had come to enjoy the time he spent with Aelyx. All of the other children in Winterfell treated him with a large degree of deference, which made it hard to tell if they really wanted to be friends or were just humoring the heir of the North. Aelyx was always polite, but his words and manner made it clear that a lord's son, no matter how highly placed, did not outrank the nephew of a king. It was nice to be able to spend time with someone close to being his equal.
If he was being truthful, the older boy intimidated him a little. Cregan had never been further than a few days' ride from Winterfell, but his new companion had traveled all across Westeros and Essos. He had never really thought of himself as unworldly, living in the political and cultural center of the North, but compared to Aelyx he felt a little provincial.
On top of that Aelyx was the son of the Daemon Targaryen. He like every boy his age idolized the man. The long peace of Jaehaerys and Viserys' reigns meant that there had been little opportunity for warriors to distinguish themselves on the battlefield, as such the adventures of the Sea Snake and the Rogue Prince in the Stepstones had captured imaginations all across the kingdoms.
As the two prepared to return to keep, Cregan remembered the instructions that his father had given him the night before.
"Last night my father requested that he join him in his solar when we finished sparing."
Aelyx turned, arching an eyebrow.
"Did he say what he wished to speak of?"
"No, but I believe he wishes to discuss the reasons for your visit."
"Oh, he doesn't believe that seeing the kingdoms is the sole motivation for my journey."
"No, and neither do I."
Aelyx let out a laugh at Cregan's rebuttal.
"Well in that case lead the way."
Cregan wound through the halls of Winterfell with Aelyx following close behind. As he walked, he wondered what his father wanted with their guest. The Lord of Winterfell had not been very specific when he had spoken with his son the previous night. Merely saying he needed to discuss important matters with the young Targaryen and that he hoped he could parlay the dragon rider's visit into a boon for both House Stark and the North.
When they reached his father's solar, he halted and rapped sharply on the door. Permission the enter came immediately and he pushed open the door and stepped into the room, Aelyx on his heels. Seeing the stern expression on his father's face, he bowed slightly at the waist.
"Lord Father, I have brought Ser Aelyx as instructed." He had long since learned to tell at a glance what level of decorum his father expected in any given situation.
"Please, Ser Aleyx take a seat." The Lord of the North waved indicating to their guest an ornately carved chair of ironwood. As soon as Aelyx settled in the seat Cregan turned to leave, but was stopped by a command from his father.
"No son, I think it's best that you stay for this meeting."
Cregan's eyes widened, His father had never before allowed him to sit in on a meeting when he was conducting his duties. He quickly shut the door and settled into a chair beside Aelyx. The solar was quiet for a long moment before Rickon leaned forward steepling his fingers and addressed the Targaryen.
"I know why you are here."
Aelyx cocked an eyebrow "Oh."
"Since the day that Prince Aegon was born, there have been those who whisper that he should be his father's heir. And now just weeks after your father wed Princess Rheanyra, you began a journey that reminded all of Westeros where exactly the allegiance of Vhagar and her rider lay."
"King Viserys has decreed Princess Rhaenyra his heir, any who question that decision question the authority of the crown and in doing so court treason."
"And yet here you are."
"And yet here I am."
Cregan shifted nervously as his father and Aelyx held each other's gaze, each waiting for the other to look away first. In the end, the older man won, as Aelyx leaned back with a sigh.
"I will not deny that concerns have circulated on both Driftmark and Dragonstone about the increasing power of the Greens. However, let's not overstate matters Otto Hightower is banished from court and Aegon is a boy of three and ten."
"As opposed to your mature five and ten."
"Fair enough. Truthfully, I have not been empowered by my Father or the Princess to strike any bargains, but should you wish to open relations with the Houses of the Narrow Sea, I would be happy to facilitate such talks."
Cregan frowned as the incongruity of Aelyx's word choice struck him. He had said the Houses of the Narrow Sea, not Prince Daemon, Princess Rhaenyra, or even Dragonstone. That was not an accident.
Rickard tilted his head slightly, narrowing his eyes.
"And by the Narrow Sea Houses, you mean Driftmark?"
"Once again, I cannot promise anything, but that island was my home for half my life. If House Stark has an interest in deepening its relations with the Velaryon trading empire I could surely be of assistance. Although I will admit that I am not particularly familiar with the primary imports and exports of the North"
His father turned to him.
"Enlighten the prince."
"We export amber, ivory, timber, and furs in large numbers. We import textiles, metals, glass, wine, and in bad years grain." Cregan rattled off. The list was far from complete, but it covered the basics.
"What about whale?" Aelyx queried. "I know the Ibenese hunt it in the Shivering Sea, which I believe has a similar latitude to your lands."
Rickard shrugged slightly I know the Skagosi and the Umbers have dabbled in the practice, but most people in the area prefer to hunt walrus."
Cregan watched with interest as Aelyx drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair, deep in thought. After a few moments of contemplation, he spoke.
"When I return south a will speak to Lord Corlys on your behalf. The North is hardly lacking in riches and I am certain that he could be induced into expanding his network to include White Harbor and all the wealth that flows into it. But if you truly wish to enrich the North, beyond the benefits of a lucrative trade deal, I would recommend taking advantage of the shipyards of Hull. Lord Corlys has gathered shipwrights from across the known world there. I am confident that with half a description they could build a proper whaler. When I said the Ibenesse hunt in the Shivering Sea, I meant that they have based half their economy on whaling. I know the North has little in the way of navel traditions but if large-scale whaling is indeed viable off your eastern coast, you would be able to exploit an untapped market in Westeros."
Cregan looked at his father wondering how he would react to an outsider giving him advice on how to rule the North.
"I am unsure if such an endeavor would be profitable." Rickard began. "But it would be foolish to disregard advice on how to exploit the bounty of the sea, from someone who has spent their entire life living on islands."
Aelyx shrugged. "As I said I have no idea if it's even possible, but it certainly seems to be an avenue worth exploring."
For the next several hours the conversation continued as the two Northerns questioned their guest on the inner workings of the Narrow Sea trade and the intricacies of the Southern markets.