sb2audiotest Chapter 1, a x-overs fanfic

Jun 27, 2019

Add bookmark

Author's note: Well, I have been asked to bring this story over to SpaceBattles. I hope that the lot of you enjoy it. Please comment on it, as your comments are an important part of the muses' dietary needs. Now, without further ado...

Prologue

"I don't understand" He spoke with an uncertain voice. Memories of a thousand lives flashing through his head as he fell to his knees. In an instant he could see it. Chariots and its warriors in an attire that would not be too out of place in the Iliad or at Kadesh, bronze-tipped spears glittering in the sun. Then the charge became one of mounted warriors, clad in mail and with iron and steel swords. Spearmen ran and were cut down, a banner with a red seven-pointed star flying on the wind as a giant of a man wearing a bronze armor killed many of the mounted warriors. He could see phalanxes in the desert, breaking charges of horsemen, he could see the banner of a wolf on a great fleet that left a bloody scar on the lands it touched. There were men with kraken and with scythe banners, burning villages and taking slaves -no, thralls- He could see it all as if he were on the first lines of the armies, and also as if he hovered above them. He saw a Red Dragon banner be raised above a hill, and many armies surrendering. He could see banners of dragons, Red and Black in opposing sides of a battlefield, he could see the banners of Stags, Wolves and Falcons in another army, but this time there were no Black Dragon banners to be seen...

Then, with a flash of light, he heard the words.

"Awake?"

"Brother? Are you well?"

His breath was shallow, but he slowly calmed down. Then he saw around himself. The room was too richly decorated to be his own. It was also a stone building -even if the stone was not bare- and that was odd, as he was sure that the room he had slept in was made of concrete and wood, not stone. But the one thing that really took him the most by surprise, was the young woman, she had to be a bit older than himself, with long hair between gold and silver and pale lavender eyes. She looked at him, worried, but there was relief in her eyes.

"Gods, you scared us all little brother"

That look was too characteristic of a specific world... and suddenly what he saw began to make more sense. Unable to utter a single word, he took a deep breath and asked for everyone to leave the room. Once they all had done so, he slowly sat on the bed, then stood. Out of the window he saw a city, on an island. The weather however was warm.

After a few minutes he finally spoke to himself.

"Shit... Oh well, at least it seems that I have nothing to do with a certain couple of exiles"

With that he laughed. Surely this was a nightmare, right?

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Jun 27, 2019

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Aethan I

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Jun 27, 2019

Add bookmark

Author's note: Well, I suppose that it is time to get this moving isn't it? Thank you for speculating, I hope to surprise you in a good manner

Driftmark, 175 A.C

It took the young man around an hour to finally see where he was, five minutes more to realize when he was, and a few seconds after that to realize who he was now. His name was Aethan Velaryon, son of Corlys Velaryon -not the Sea Snake- who was himself the son of Alyn Velaryon, known as Lord Oakenfist, survivor of the Dance, and of Daeron's Dornish War. The King was Aegon IV, and to boot, Daemon, who would take the name Blackfyre, had to be around five years old.

Oh, and his grandfather had been lost at sea, the news had reached Driftmark but two days before his own accident.

He could clearly remember two very different accidents, and he could almost see himself dying on both. One involved a very high speed collision between two horseless vehicles, the other, a storm and a sinking boat. Whatever the case, he had little choice but to go forward. Which now meant, going down to break his fast with his family.

He got dressed, noticing that his own skin was much paler than it used to be. His clothes were turquoise in colour -at least mostly- and so, dressed in what he thought was a bit over the top for taking breakfast with his family, he made his way down the halls of Driftmark. Reaching the smaller dining hall where his family awaited.

He walked into the dining hall slowly. Meeting with the rest of his family. His father and mother sat at the head of the table, there was also his grandmother, the lady Baela Targaryen. Looking every bit as willful as expected. His eldest sister Larissa and his younger sister Valaena were seated as well. And young Aethan was thankful that he was not married to either. Not that they would be terrible, but he did not share the valyrian enthusiasm for such marriages...

The meal was eaten in silence. Although the small smiles and looks that were shared among them all said more than any amount of words could. Once that was done, his father motioned for him to follow. And they walked to his solar. They sat and Lord Corlys spoke.

"I am glad to see that you are awake... I will not ask you about what happened, but you must know that the King will visit in a few days."

That took him by surprise. And in his mind he cursed. Of course something like that would happen. He did not remember that Aegon the Unworthy had sired any bastards on a Velaryon, but still...

"I... I see Father" Was all he could say. Corlys chuckled and sighed.

"You will need to rest. And see to it that you don't take a boat before the King arrives" After that the talk turned to other things.

Last edited: Jun 27, 2019

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Jun 27, 2019

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Larissa I

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Jun 28, 2019

Add bookmark

Her younger brother was acting strangely. Then again, he had always been a bit odd. However he was spending even more time than usual in the library. Then at the vaults on the lower levels of the keep. She walked towards the courtyard, where Aethan used to spend more time before his accident. However, he was there.

Aethan had never been the greatest fighter, but he was good enough, or so she figured. However he was doing something very strange, gripping his sword with one hand on the handle and the other in the middle of the blade -she had heard of knights doing so, but never saw why would anyone bother-. At first she thought it odd, but soon enough she saw that the gamble worked for him, forcing Ser Alan to yield. Once he was done, she made his way to him.

"Is something bothering you sister?" He asked her, and Larissa flashed him a smile as they walked.

"Nothing, I was just wondering if something was ailing you" Her answer got a raised eyebrow from him. Aethan shrugged and Larissa sighed at that.

"Is it about the King?" It was the only thing that came to her mind that could be so worrying. He nodded and sighed.

"I'm sure it will be nothing" He told her. He was clearly lying, even with the sudden turn and lack of a desire to sail in the last week, Larissa could tell that he was lying. Still, she did not know how to pry the truth from him. It was their grandmother who was more experienced in such matters.

"I am more worried about the Dornish Princess" Larissa admitted. Of course she was, his father and grandfather had hoped that Larissa would be married to Prince Daeron... then King Baelor had to get him betrothed to Mariah Martell. And of course, she and the Velaryons were not on quite friendly terms with one another, although that was true of most of the realm anyway...

"Ah, yes, Princess Mariah..." She noticed the small sigh from Aethan and what almost looked like a wince. "I just hope this does not come back to haunt us all, Say, what about we ride around the island?" That sounded more like the Aethan she was used to, and with a wide grin she looked at him "I was wondering if you would ask"

At least they had time to prepare, and hope that this would turn out well.

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Jun 28, 2019

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Aethan II

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Jun 30, 2019

Add bookmark

#17

He had to admit, he was thankful that he did not arrive during Baelor's reign. That idiot and his zeal would have seen him killed, that much he knew.

Discovering that the Faith of the Seven was even more distinct from medieval Catholicism than he expected was a shock. He was expected to focus his prayers on one or two aspects of the seven -which to a man that was used to a faith that emphasized the oneness of the trinity rather than the separateness of its parts was shocking- And although Aethan's memories certainly helped, it was still unsettling. Not to mention those moments when he had to fight his instincts to not cross himself...

And then there was the fact that Targaryens and Velaryons had married each other so many times that the only thing that set his mind at ease on that matter was that his Grandfather had been a bastard, and his mother was from neither house -She was actually Volantene-. So all in all, the fact that King Aegon the Unworthy would arrive in a couple of days and with him would be his wife, heir and daughter in law, was a worry, but not the only one.

Sitting on his room, he thought on the events of the day, and on the coming events as well as the past. He had managed to learn that a large portion of House Velaryon's wealth was already gone, either in the Dance or by those damn Rogares... They were still far from becoming irrelevant, but he knew that the time was running against him. Then there were the coming events. King Aegon had already screwed things up monumentally, and would only continue to do so. For example, he had already set aside his Bracken mistress and taken a Blackwood. Not that he cared about the whole mess with those two houses, but having it spill over into the Royal Household...

He was interrupted by a seashell that he had not noticed before in his room. Its shape and size were very characteristic... and a grin formed upon his face. Perhaps there was still wealth to be had for House Velaryon, without depending on costly travels to the far east.

Aethan was very much aware of what most of those whose Isekaitis led them to land in this specific world ended up doing. Usually invent gunpowder, or some other flashy thing, build a powerbase, and make a move for the Iron throne. For Aethan that was not really an option he was considering for various reasons. First, although he had a vague idea of the materials needed, he was not so wanting to add gunpowder to this specific point in time, nor wishing to associate himself with the Alchemists -who he suspected to be more competent in these affairs than the Maesters- Then there were the advances on Shipbuilding which he had barely a slight idea that could still fail miserably...

The Printing Press however is a simple concept and a relatively simple invention that should only require a couple of blacksmiths, probably a goldsmith for the more fine parts.

He also thought long and hard about the Sea Silk, he needed someone skilled because, as far as he knew, such garments were not produced at all in Westeros... With clearer ideas in mind he set out of his chambers, and headed out to dine with his family.

Dinner was also rather quiet. And it was clear that there was some sort of strife between the Lord Corlys and his wife -Serra was her name- But otherwise, things were calm. At least for now.

When he finally was able to sleep, Aethan was sorely hoping that this calm would last, but then again, in a world like this, how bad could things not be?

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Jun 30, 2019

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Serra I/Aethan III

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Jul 1, 2019

Add bookmark

#23

Author's note: Eh, I can afford to do this damnit, why the heck not?

The whole family had seen that Aethan had been acting oddly -to say the least- during the previous week. Of course it all had began before the accident. When news of Lord Alyn's dissappearance came he took to the boats for much longer than usual. And then there was his own incident. After waking, Aethan had avoided most of the family -Larissa being the exception- He had locked himself on his room and she could have sworn that she had heard sobbing, yet he remained locked for a full day and its night, only emerging to eat...

Serra had been close to forcibly break into his chambers and trying to comfort him in some manner, but on his second day awake, he had awoken very early, and she found the chambers unlocked and without him.

From then and for the rest of that week, Aethan had buried himself in books. She had never seen him so dedicated to reading, but more than once she found him absolutely engrossed on various old tomes in the libraries of Driftmark. When he was not there, She saw him take a servant and have him walk him through the vaults which had once held the riches of House Velaryon. And when he was at neither place, it was not strange to see him in the training yards...

She was taken out of her thoughts by her goodmother, Baela Targaryen was still a formidable woman. Her short stature and slim frame were still rather graceful despite the fact that she was nearing sixty name days, and she was still of a fiery temperament and quick wit.

"I see you are still troubled by the changes on Aethan" Baela told her. Serra let out a sigh, and looked out of the window of her chambers.

"Is it wrong that a mother worries about her child? He may be a man for most purposes but still..."

"It is strange, I never knew Aethan to be so much of a reader" Baela interrupted her with a dry chuckle "But at least he is now actually bothering to prepare for when he becomes Lord of the Tides"

Oh, Serra knew that her son -at least with how he was before the accident- would need a lot of help to be a good Lord, but she was still worried. She knew of very few times when men had such sudden changes, and they usually did not bode well. Her own purple eyes still on the sea -thankfully she knew that Aethan had not taken a boat yet- as she took a deep breath. Not wanting to remain silent, Baela continued.

"You worry too much, He will be fine, and we all will be better off for it" With that she stood up, leaving Serra alone with her thoughts.

Late at night, Aethan paced around his chambers. It had been his routine for the last week or so, especially with the fact that sleep did not come easy to him since arriving. The first few nights had been the worst. Especially the coming to terms with being stuck in the body of a lordling and having very little prospects of returning home. During the day he could push it out of his mind easily enough. It was just a matter of keeping himself busy enough -not that it was actually easy, considering that his choices were very much limited to reading, riding, sailing -which was very restricted for the time being- and going to the yards...

At night, in the room lit by candlelight and with little else to do but dwell on his thoughts, that was when it all hit him again. And thus he paced. He did so for some time, then he laid on his bed as every night, and as every night, sleep eluded him still...

He could feel his breath becoming quicker and shallower, the worry eating away at his mind. What to do if he was found out, How to avoid being found out... From the beginning he had ruled out trying to behave like Aethan had before his accident. old Aethan was eccentric, to say the least. He? He was calm, quiet and usually preferring to talk things out. Some would even say rather awkward. The two were very different, if the memories he had acquired were anything to go by.

That was one thing that he did not know what to make of. Usually there would still be a figment of the character in question, a voice in his head, or even a slow merger of personalities... Not so for him. There was no such voice, nor any thought not his own. A part of him was thankful that he did not have such conflicts, but at the same time it was a helpful thing -in most occasions at least- to have that someone who knows everyone around you.

His thoughts drifted to the future, the King already had his Blackwood lover, which meant that he had already set aside the Bracken girl, so the path towards the whole thing between Bittersteel and Bloodraven was already started... Now he needed to find a way to stop that from spilling into bad decisions by Daemon and Daeron.[1]

Aethan had thought about letting the Blackfyre revolts happen as they did in canon. However there were some problems with that idea. First, the outbreak of a major succession war in Westeros would screw over his own plans -and as much as he had been tempted to just say "fuck this" and live out his life in Essos, the confirmation that Pinna Nobilis could be found in the waters around Driftmark had made him abandon those ideas- And second, it just felt like the wrong thing to do. To allow a war or a series of wars to happen when he might have the power to stop them...

But, had he? What influence could he ever hope to wield with Daemon, or with Daeron? He was but the heir to an admittedly minor lordship. Not irrelevant by any means and likely to one day become Master of Ships, but not a great lordship nor a great power in the scheme of all things...

Then a thought came to him. That could work, at least in keeping the boy away from his bitter half-brother. It would be some time, and things might change and make it unworkable... But it was perhaps his best chance at stopping that chain of events.

Once he had settled on that, he found sleep claimed him more easily, but he was well aware that he had spent a long time just laying awake. Hopefully this would not come back to haunt him...

Oh, right, in this world, that is rather unlikely.

[1] One thing is thinking about it, a very different thing is putting it into practice... not to mention that having it actually work is a whole different beast. We shall see if this is an idea he will cling on to...

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Jul 1, 2019

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Corlys I New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Jul 1, 2019

Add bookmark

#26

Lord Velaryon had many things to worry about lately.

First and foremost of his worries, was his son. Aethan had been a lively lad, more than a bit wild and with a heavy spending stream. Of course, as much as Corlys had wanted to curb it, his father would coddle the lad. And things just went nowhere in that regard. In the last week, he seemed to have changed so entirely, that some of the servants even wondered if he had been replaced by a Faceless Man.

That was foolish nonsense, of course, there were some small things that were always the same. Aethan was, in a way, still Aethan even if he had changed greatly... Surely the shock of losing his grandfather, mixed with his incident could be at fault. Men who have such a close brush with the stranger do not emerge without being changed after all.

The next of his worries was money. House Velaryon was still rich. But a large portion of its wealth was deposited in the Rogare bank, not to mention that his own father, as good of a man and a leader as he was, had allowed other houses and ports to become more important than Driftmark. Already merchants docked more often at Duskendale, and although the Darklyns were not as rich as the Velaryons, they were a growing power.

It was clear that they needed a source of income. Trade had the issue that when you could dock directly on the continent, it was a good idea. He had long entertained the idea of making his own trip to the east. Of sailing as his namesake had, reaching Yi-Ti and even Asshai, and returning with great riches, gold, gems, and wares to sell... He had been preparing a ship when his father left, and now had to put those plans on hold indefinitely now that he was officially the Lord of the Tides.

His third worry was the Royal Family. His father had refused to play the game that many lords played nowadays -that of pushing daughters, nieces, and cousins into the King's bed to earn his favor- Corlys could not blame him, as power achieved this way was too fickle and fleeting -Just ask Lord Bracken about it-. Although he also knew that a large part of the reason why he had refused, was his own love for Elaena Targaryen... Corlys set aside his thoughts on the matter, such as the fact that the princess was young enough to be his own sister. What really worried him about the Royal Family, was the Crown Prince, or rather, his wife...

Unlike most in Westeros, Corlys Velaryon did not really have a personal grudge against Dorne or the Martells... But his father was not sure that the opposite was not the case. Lord Alyn had been hoping to marry one of his daughters to Prince Daeron. Instead, Baelor the Blessed had seen him married to a Martell. Considering the role that he had played in the Conquest of Dorne, Alyn knew well enough what it could mean for himself and for his house. And Corlys was just as aware of it as his father had been.

Whether it was because the King had taken no Velaryon to bed, because of the Crown Princess being a Martell, a combination of both, or something else entirely, Corlys knew that his position was quite precarious. The fact that his father had not been reinstated in his post as Master of Ships when a chance arose early in King Aegon's reign, or the fact that there were growing worries about the close relationship that the Prince of Dorne was trying to build with the Rogares...

He was taken out of his thoughts by a servant who arrived with a letter.

The King would be arriving in three days. Bringing the Queen, the Crown Prince, and his wife along.

All that was left, was to hope that it would end well.

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Jul 1, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Aethan IV New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Jul 1, 2019

Add bookmark

#33

"Of course, she has to be here" Aethan muttered to himself as he saw the figure in the gardens.

By "she" he meant none other than Elaena Targaryen. Who sat in the gardens with her twin four-year-old children. Jon and Jeyne.

Now, Princess Elaena had never been a beauty to turn heads around -that was her older sister Daena- but Aethan could not help but admit that he could understand why his grandfather had come to desire her... Of course, the knowledge that she had been his grandfather's lover, and that the twins were actually his uncle and aunt, was more than enough to thoroughly kill any thought of imitating the Oakenfist in that specific regard.

He walked away from the gardens, his hopes for a few hours of peace and quiet thoroughly spoiled as was his mood. "Gods, I may be a Velaryon, but I will not honor the Targaryen blood in me in that manner" He muttered in disgust at the notion that briefly flashed across his mind. Once that business was done, he headed down to the castle's docks and sat. Not doing anything in particular.

"Of course, I will have to marry," he told himself, then sighed in frustration. The very few characters he knew anything about during this time period that popped into his mind for such things were either too young for his comfort, or with some problematic issues of their own, and most were in both categories... Then again, most likely his father would either already have someone in mind or outline a series of acceptable candidates.

The last two days had been spent in a tiring manner, although, thankfully he was tired enough when he came to bed that he would just fall asleep without much issue. That still meant that his swordplay was less sharp than it ought to have been. After perhaps an hour, Aethan left the docks, going back to the keep proper. He had been hoping to head into the nearby town, hoping to find someone who knew how to work the byssus from the Noble Sea Pens. Alas, such plans had to be put on hold by the King's visit.

As part of the preparations, Aethan headed up to his father's solar. There was one very important matter to discuss after all...

"Father" Aethan greeted Lord Corlys. The older man gave a tired sigh and looked at his son, bidding him to sit down. Aethan did so and waited.

"Aethan, I suppose I do not need to warn you to keep your distance from the Lady Blackwood" That took the boy by surprise. Nor the warning itself, but the fact that she would come. Then again, the King had his mistresses whenever he liked, wherever he liked anyway, so perhaps it should not have been such a surprise.

"That is correct Father" He replied with a small nod. Corlys seemed satisfied and continued.

"Good, Now, about your sisters... Larissa and Valaena are to never be left alone, especially if the King is in the same room, or in a nearby one. I have already tasked some of the guards with that. But you must also be aware of it"

Of course, this is Aegon the fucking Unworthy we are talking about, of course, he would do something like that... "I understand Father, It would be better to keep him distracted rather than letting him wander about and do what he does... I suppose you also intend to keep Princess Elaena away from him"

That was a sore spot, but it had to be talked about. Lord Corlys let out a somewhat annoyed sigh and nodded slowly. "Yes, she and her children will also be kept at a distance from the King, but we cannot prevent him from seeing them... Thankfully he has not demanded that any man present him his daughters to bed, at least not that I know of."

That got Aethan to become pale, or paler than he already was. He took a deep breath and nodded. Hopefully, this meant that in the third year of his reign, King Aegon IV was not yet far enough gone to do such a thing... Not that there would be any way to stop this process, but so long as he stayed away from Driftmark once he was that far gone, things should be fine...

Once that was dealt with, Lord Velaryon had a small meal brought for both of them. As they waited, he spoke.

"Now... I see that you took an interest in the Greater Sea Pens, I admit they are good for eating, and from time to time produce good pearls, but I am not sure what else would they be good for"

With a smirk, Aethan looked at his father and told him. "But I thought that the fibers in the beard of the Greater Sea Pens were finer than even the fibers of silk... If a way to turn that into cloth can be found..." He let the thought hang, and he could see his Father's look.

"Yes, I can see what it could mean... It will have to wait until after the King leaves, but it is an interesting idea..."

That, however, did cause Aethan to worry. After all, it meant that it was likely that no one this side of the narrow sea knew how to work that thing.

Father and Son talked some more. And at some point after dusk, Aethan left his father's chambers. Deciding that perhaps this was not so bad after all... So long as he managed to survive the coming storm that is.

Author's note: No, this update does not rule out anything

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Jul 1, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Mariah I/Corlys II New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Jul 2, 2019

Add bookmark

#43

High Tide, despite not having recovered from the havoc that the Dance had brought to it, was still an impressive castle. A testament to the wealth that Corlys the Sea Snake had obtained, and to the power he once wielded. Nearby were the ruins of Spicetown. And the trading town never really recovered, its ruins in plain sight while a smaller town began to grow near the older Driftmark Castle.

Still, it was in High Tide that the Velaryons had their main residence. And so it was there that they all traveled. And for the future Queen of the Andals and the First Men -because in her mind she could not bring herself to pretend to be the queen of the Rhoynar or any people of Dorne- Mariah Martell watched as the castle came closer, as the ship docked and slowly they all disembarked. First the King and his wife. -And the King seemed to get fatter every year since he started ruling- Then she came down with her husband, and part of the Kingsguard came down along them -the rest having escorted the King to the docks-. Daeron looked at her, it was almost a knowing look, as it was a pleading one. But she could not forget the sight of the ships with the Seahorse on the Greenblood...

Formalities were soon exchanged, Bread and Salt were given -and a part of her could not help but wonder if the Lord of the Tides did not mean for her to perish regardless- and they were all led around the keep. She could also notice how the daughters of Lord Velaryon were always either with him or with their brother. At least with that, she could sympathize. After all, the excesses of the King were widely known... Not to mention the clear intent in his face when he saw the lady Larissa.

The following feast was tiresome. The King busied himself eating, drinking and molesting the serving girls. Lord Velaryon kept his daughters close, and the face of his heir showed a clear disgust at the whole scene.

After a couple of hours, she excused herself. Bringing along the dornishman who remained as her guard, she made for her chambers. Hoping to get a decent sleep on that night...

Lord Velaryon had been rather glad to notice that the Dornish princess left the hall. If anything because as much as the King ignored it, her presence brought tension to the whole ordeal. He laughed along with the King when he made a jest, he had the wine and food flow but stopped soon enough. He noted that his son had done the same -only staying in the halls rather than heading to the balcony that he seemed to be looking forward to go to in order to keep watch over his sisters-. And of course, he kept the King distracted from Larissa. Making sure that the prettiest serving girls -especially those who would not particularly mind this- were near the King, while keeping both Larissa and Valaena as far from His Grace as was possible...

"Father... will this last for too long?" Aethan asked him in an almost hushed tone. It was masked by the laughter of knights and other present nobles. Corlys, with a small sigh, nodded as a response.

He had instructed both of his daughters to avoid spending time close to the King. And although he was definitely more fat than he remembered him, King Aegon still seemed to have that charisma of his when dealing with women...

"I think His grace has taken some offense to the departure of Princess Mariah" Valaena finally told him. Corlys, of course, had noticed -the mood in the hall had noticeably shifted after all- but had not given it much thought... With a small sigh he nodded "I suppose he did... Whatever the case, we will not get involved in such matters"

Valaena nodded at those words, remaining on her seat. Then there was a small scandal in a nearby table. A Knight rose up, seemingly well into his cups but not yet overly drunk. He made his way to the Royal table -albeit he was unarmed- And after a few tense seconds where he looked at the King, the Queen and at one of the Kingsguard, he loudly declared.

"I accuse the Queen... of having slept with Prince Aemon." Corlys could finally -and vaguely- recall him, it was some knight from house Hastwyck, although his name eluded him... The hall fell silent, although he could see some amusement in the King's face.

"Well... shit... that escalated quickly..." He could hear Aethan mutter amidst the silence. At least this would end the feast...

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Jul 2, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Aethan V New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Jul 2, 2019

Add bookmark

#46

"I accuse the Queen... of having slept with Prince Aemon." Proclaimed loudly the knight with a fairly unremarkable coat of arms and a house name that eluded Aethan. Was it Haystick? Hastwyck? Something like that. Aethan took a deeper sip of his wine and sighed.

"Well, shit... that escalated quickly" He muttered in an almost nonchalant manner. The King was clearly amused by this all, even as the hall fell into such a silence that the slightest sound of a hairpin falling to the floor could have been heard loud and clear by everyone. Prince Aemon, that is, Aemon the freaking Dragonknight had his hand on his sword -None other than Dark Sister- but kept it sheathed...

Then the King laughed and laughed harder still. However, none dared to laugh with him.

Father and Son exchanged looks, Lord Corlys sighed in annoyance and nodded. Then he stood.

"I suppose" Corlys stated "that it would be better to settle this tomorrow in the morning when tempers are not running hot and we are all sober"

The King eyed him curiously, then thought for some moments... "Fine, Anything to say to that?" The fat King turned to look at his wife and at Aemon. The latter, visibly angry at this, replied.

"His words are treason, yet he charges us both as traitors... If her Grace will have me," And she nodded "I will face him in a trial by combat."

The King eyed them oddly, then shrugged. "Fine, a trial by combat in the morning," he said, almost grumbling as he stood from his seat. For a moment, Aethan feared that he would make his way towards his sisters, but he instead took one of the serving girls by the wrist -one with golden hair and icy blue eyes- And with that, the King abandoned the hall. Slowly the other knights and nobles trickled out of the hall. With his father having extra guards on the chambers of the Queen, and of the Hastwyck knight.

As they found themselves pretty much alone, Aethan sighed, finishing his own wine -which had been unfinished by that point- and began to walk out alongside Larissa, almost escorting her to her chambers. As they approached she sighed and looked at him.

"Huh?" Larissa was looking at him, arms crossed, Aethan was seemingly confused. "What's wrong?"

"I should be asking you that" She replied cryptically. Aethan sighed in annoyance, sure that it had something to do with the sudden change in demeanor and temperament that everyone saw. When he said nothing else, Larissa let out an annoyed huff and walked into her chambers.

Not quite looking forward to seeing that foolish knight killed -because as little as he knew of this time period, he knew that the Dragonknight was one of the best with a sword, ever- Aethan made his way to his own chambers. Tired enough to fall asleep at once. He knew that it would be a short night anyway.

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Jul 2, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Aegon I New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Jul 3, 2019

Add bookmark

#48

Author's note: Italics are thoughts

King Aegon woke up late in the morning and slowly made his way to the smaller dining hall of his hosts. He was used to have this be a surprise to his hosts, so when he saw that Lord Velaryon had prepared for this, he let himself smile. He took the head seat and waited. He could see a servant telling something to another one who was on the door. And soon enough he was joined by the hosts. He had made sure the servants would not call his wife... Mostly because he wanted to see as little of her as he could here on High Tide.

In the few minutes that it took Lord Velaryon and his family to arrive, Aegon allowed his mind to drift off to the girl. He would probably not have her go with him back to the Red Keep, but he was not entirely sure of that.

Soon enough they arrived, and he found himself flanked on one side by Lord Velaryon, and on the other by his son. An odd lad definitely, not to mention that he had turned out to be quite different from what he had heard. A bit more dour and less of a fun companion... Actually more than a bit, but still less unpleasant than some of the people he knew.

"Your Grace" Lord Velaryon greeted him with a small bow. "I admit I was not entirely sure if you were to break your fast in the great hall or if you would prefer this... But it is an honour to have you here" Aegon was no fool, it was clear enough that his platitudes were partly forced. Although he had to admit, that seemed to be the rule rather than the exception... But there was little he could do on that regard.

"Ah, don't worry, just let us eat and have some quiet before the trial."

Lord Velaryon simply nodded and right after they were all seated, the food was brought. As they ate, he could not help but think that soon enough the Lord Velaryon would excuse himself to see to the preparations for the trial. That would be interesting, especially because he could barely see young Larissa from the angle they were seated at.

But soon enough, once the rest of his current companions were sated, an awkward silence fell upon the room. Lord Velaryon simply waited, and there seemed to be some odd looks to be exchanged between her and her brother... Shrugging things off, Aegon continued to eat, until he decided that it was time to see to the trial. He finished the last dish, and stood up. At that the Velaryons stood.

"Your Grace" Once more it was Lord Velaryon, the King could see from the corner of his eye that Lady Velaryon and the boy Aethan escorted the two girls out. "If you will, the courtyard is set up, it is only a matter of going there and summoning everyone to it before we can start.

"clever bastard" He thought "He must have done the preparations earlier" The King nodded, then looked at Lord Velaryon.

"Let's get on with it then" he told him in a somewhat annoyed tone. The sooner he could do so, the sooner he would find a way to do what he wanted.

Jul 3, 2019

Add bookmark

#50

It had been a decision that he agreed with wholeheartedly, Next to the King would be the Queen, the Prince of Dragonstone, and his father. Aethan was thus left to be seated in another place, alongside his mother, grandmother and sisters. Thus as the combatants finally approached the courtyard along with Septon Haegon, the crowd went silent.

Aethan did not pay too much attention to the beginning of the ordeal. His mind was busy.

He came to the conclusion that he loathed the Aethan that had been here before he nearly drowned. Not so much for his drinking or his general oafishness, nor was it for his general lack of care for at least how to preserve the wealth of House Velaryon...

It was because Aethan, the original Aethan that is, had been carelessly playing with the fact that his older sister seemed to have a sweet spot for him, to say the least.

Managing to ignore his thoughts on that specific matter, He watched with seeming calm as the Septon said his words, and the two combatants finally entered the designated fighting area. Prince Aemon looked every bit the knight. He did not carry Dark Sister, carrying instead a regular sword. Ser Morgil Hastwyck -so that was his name- Was clad in full plate, and carried what could only be described as a Zweihander...

The King barked a laugh and then had them begin.

The fight was over quickly, anticlimactically so. Ser Morgil was a decent swordsman, but it only took three movements for Prince Aemon to disarm him. Hastwyck took up his sword again, determined to see to things... And once more, it only took three movements, but this time Prince Aemon did not hold back.

As quickly as it had began, Prince Aemon had his sword on the neck of Ser Morgil, going through the gap in the armor and killing him as effectively as cutting his throat would have.

The courtyard fell silent, the Septon and the Maester both checked on Ser Morgil's corpse, then the Septon did his thing once more. Proclaiming how the gods had seen to it that the innocence of Prince Aemon and Queen Naerys was proven for all to see... King Aegon was clearly annoyed, but there was little else he could -or cared to- do.

And so, with such grim business dealt with, it was agreed that there would be more feasting that night. Which irked Aethan to no end.

Aegon knew full well that the trial by combat would end with his annoying brother winning. However he had hoped for something more... impressive... Thus, annoyed by this all he set out to find something to eat, probably some more wine, and to seek out his chances. A few plans formed on his head, but most of them he discarded, they were either too forceful for his taste -or his survival- or simply not good enough. The damned King of the damned Seven Kingdoms ought to do better in such regards than just flaunting his size!

With that conundrum in mind he set out to eat something, as his host had been knowing enough to set a luncheon for the King and his family -and even more annoyingly, he could not quite avoid his wife this time around.

He remained closer to some of the courtiers that had traveled along, and the luncheon extended more and more as they jested, laughed and seduced various ladies and serving girls that were nearby... He could see his dour bore of a son -if he was even his- doting on that dornish whore he called a wife, he could see his wife, demurely and slowly eating as she made sure that she remained closer to Daeron than to the tables where he was.

And admittedly, he could not bring himself to care.

Then a thought came to mind. That would do... That would do nicely, even if it failed to get the young Larissa for him, it could be a good idea... a first step in the right direction for the realm, if you will.

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Jul 3, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Aethan VII/Daeron I New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Jul 4, 2019

Add bookmark

#54

The Luncheon was not a particularly appealing one. Aethan ate slowly, not quite hungry in contrast to the King -who seemed to be possessed by ravenous hunger, then again, all of his appetites seemed ravenous, hunger, lust, desire for luxury, no matter how much he got, the needed more.

Aethan, the new Aethan that is, found himself disgusted by this. But there was little he could do. Thus he sipped his Arbor Gold and tried to think.

Of course, the likelihood of him being in any kind of situation where he could avoid that particular screw-up, especially at this point in time, was so ridiculously small that he would be better served by just watching the storm unfold while fending off the mess that he was sure the Dornish were hoping to cause.

"Ah, Lord Aethan would you join us?" It was the Crown Prince.

Aethan was not entirely sure of what to make of the Prince of Dragonstone. He himself was a rather pleasant man. A complete bookworm who, perhaps, with a different queen, would have been able to steer the Targaryens into a dominant position only matched by Jaehaerys the Conciliator, and do so without Dragons at that.

Instead, he was saddled with a Dornish queen, one who was clearly wanting to screw the Reach, the Stormlands and of course, House Velaryon.

Still, an invitation from the Crown Prince was an invitation from the Crown Prince, and somewhat reluctantly, Aethan sat near him, there was the Queen, and his wife nearby. Said Dornish Princess was almost glaring at him, and at Daeron.

"Is there anything you'd wish to discuss, Your Grace?" Of course, technically it was the Crown Prince who was his father's liege lord, but in the current circumstances, things were rather confusing. As it was, in most occasions the Prince of Dragonstone and the Crown were not in what amounted to a Cold War. And it could only get worse in the following years...

This seemed to surprise Daeron, which left Aethan to wonder if perhaps the political genius behind the successes of Daeron was actually his wife -and oh boy was that a frightening prospect-

"I see..." Aethan muttered before continuing his meal. For now, he said nothing.

"I mean to ask, Lord Aethan." Speak of the Devil... "I have heard that the Rogares have found themselves in the losing side of a dispute in Lys"

The look on Princess Mariah Martell's face was somewhere between a smug smirk, a devilish grin and a look of "I will make you suffer and I will enjoy it without anyone being able to stop me"

In that moment, Aethan decided that he loathed the woman.

"Ah, unfortunate indeed. I pray that they recover from this." Of course, they would not, The Rogares would lose their bank and leave the monopoly to the Braavosi... but with a bit of luck, House Velaryon would manage to get through it without falling into obscurity...

Daeron almost glared at his wife. What was she thinking! Antagonizing his hosts like that by trying to goad the heir into a fight of some sort?

At least the young man had the sense to not let himself be goaded. He could see his wife's face passing from that smirk of hers to annoyance as she returned to her food.

"You will have to excuse my wife, She has been... unwell since our arrival" And was that an understatement. Lord Aethan gave a small nod, while his wife turned to look at him, even more annoyed than before.

"Worry not, Your Grace, I can see why would that be" He replied simply. Strangely he seemed more interested in the meal and his own thoughts than on actually talking.

Slowly the luncheon was brought to an end. And he noted that some men were preparing for a ride around the island. Daeron got up and was met by the heir.

"I suppose that Your Grace would prefer to remain in High Tide, or would you like to join the riding party?"

"I am afraid I must decline your invitation, Lord Aethan" The Prince of Dragonstone replied. He knew that save for his hosts, it would be composed mostly by his father and his father's men. Not the crowd he'd choose to pass his time with.

"Very well, in that case" and with that did Lord Aethan stood up, "We shall meet at the feast, by your leave."

Daeron nodded, and the young man left. Daeron was left with the nagging feeling on the back of his head that he would regret having brought his wife.

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Jul 4, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Aethan VIII New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Jul 5, 2019

Add bookmark

#61

Riding was one of the few joys that King Aegon had, that were not taxing upon his health, then again, he was a robust man, so he saw no problem with most of his pastimes.

Aethan Velaryon for his own part enjoyed riding. And Driftmark was just big enough for that pastime, so he found himself roped into joining the King and most of his companions in a ride across the island. Of course, there are only so many variants of the typical stories about cajoling women into bed that one can before having heard them all.

One of the knights was entertaining the party with his exploits, apparently, he had bedded a girl from every single kingdom -save for Dorne, go figure- And was currently retelling the story about the girl from the Iron Islands...

"You see, most of you would say that the Ironborn are nothing to look at, but let me tell you one thing, Helya had the prettiest face in those damn rocks, I'd dare say she was prettier than many blushing maidens in the Reach," The knight chuckled, "and gods she had a pair of..."

With a small eye roll, Aethan kept riding. Thinking...

That damn Dornish Princess had not outright admitted that the Martells were involved in the downfall of the Rogare Bank... But her knowledge of the matter was too great for it to have been a mere coincidence.

Now, the Rogare Bank had already suffered a massive blow some decades earlier, with all and the deal about Lysandro Rogare. Apparently, his youngest son had, through martial prowess, redeemed himself in the eyes of the city, and thus Moredo Rogare had managed to keep the Bank from going under entirely... But he was now an old man, and the remaining Rogares seemed unable to keep the Bank running. Then there were their rivals, the Iron Bank at Braavos, the Hightower's own bank in Oldtown, and the upstart one founded by the Vaelaros in Volantis...

Why did his grandfather keep faith in the damn Rogare Bank even after their first collapse was something that baffled Aethan.

Thus he had to think. On the one hand, his father seemed slightly less inclined to put all his eggs in the Rogare basket, on the other hand, if he managed to pull it off, the Sea Silk would get House Velaryon a source of revenue...

He would need to look up how to benefit from this whole mess. Let the Martells try and expedite the death of the Rogare Bank, if Aethan had his way, that would only strengthen House Velaryon.

Oh his mother would push for House Velaryon to throw their lot behind the Volantene bank, and if the situation was different, that might even be just enough to change history wildly and keep the Iron Bank as a second place...

With things as they were however, the best plan was to go over to the Braavosi, or even better, put some money into the Iron Bank, but not go all out for either. And focus on other sources of wealth...

The Party eventually returned to High Tide, there were still some three hours or so before sunset, which left him that much time before yet another feast...

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Jul 5, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Aegon III/Aethan IX New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Jul 6, 2019

Add bookmark

#62

Author's Note: Yes, I skipped the feast itself, we can assume that it was fairly unremarkable.

Mornings were always slow and spent with a headache for the King of the Seven Kingdoms.

The sunlight lazily entered the chambers, and on the bed, she was, the same blonde serving girl on his bed. He had to admit, despite her being lowborn, he was fascinated with her. There was something to her. A fire that, while not matching Daena's, was beyond that of many of his usual bedmates. Of course, he would swear that it was matched by that of her current mistress, whom he did not bring to Driftmark because she was visiting her family. Still, Melissa's character was different, and he was fairly sure that he loved her.

However, that voice on the back of his head, the same voice that he usually drowned out with wine and wenches whispered quietly.

"You said the same about Barba, and about all the others as well" it whispered. Aegon tried -and for the most part, managed- to pay it no mind.

Once the girl had awoken -he had been too deep in thought to wake her up, besides, he had to admit that he was just as addicted to the feeling of a woman's warm body in the morning as he was to sex itself- he had her get dressed and return to her duties. Leaving him alone in the chambers.

Another servant, a young boy, brought him wine and hurried out. Aegon drank it eagerly -even if it was watered- and got himself dressed. Then he noted that the boy had left a small raven-carried letter on his desk. Aegon picked it up, gave it a quick read, and with a smile on his face he pocketed the small piece of parchment.

He would have to return soon to King's Landing. Oh, he was already sure that he would regret not getting the young Larissa, but at the very least he had a very happy reason to hurry his return.

The remaining hours of the morning passed by lazily. Bored out of his mind, the King managed to gather his companions to him -and the heir to High Tide joined as well, albeit he did not seem too keen on doing so- grabbed a spear, and headed out into the island.

During the ride on the previous day, he had seen some game on the island. Dwarf deers and smaller game. Nothing too impressive, but he should be able to get one or two before dusk.

Aethan was not too happy about this. Still, it appeared that his Father needed someone to keep an eye on the King -he could not go himself, as he apparently needed to speak with the Prince of Dragonstone... perhaps it would have something to do with Aethan's account of what little interaction he had with the Dornish Princess, or most likely, it was some other issue.- And so he followed the ever so annoying group as they made themselves out to be some sort of great hunters while clumsily attempting to kill a couple of dwarf deers.

Aethan carried a crossbow. He had to admit that, not even Old Aethan was good with the bow, and using a spear for one of the very agile and sneaky dwarf deers was as useful as using a peashooter to fish.

He informed the King and his party that he would not be with the main body of hunters, but that instead he would go and take position nearby with his crossbow. It was not one of the massive monsters, but it was good enough to get a deer if he managed to get close enough.

Admittedly, he spent most of the time watching the rest of the so-called hunters. They were busy drinking and chatting so loudly that he was sure they had scared all the game on the island.

He still managed to get enough quiet to be content, however, so he saw no problem with it... Then he saw something move in the bushes.

A couple of hours later, Aethan returned to the camp where no one seemed to remember that they were out hunting, dragging an adult dwarf doe. He had to admit, it was a very lucky shot, but that did not stop it from feeling good. Not the killing part, but the actually doing something, anything, while not focusing on one of the many things that kept his mind working even at times when it ought to not be working.

Aegon had been speaking with one of the knights. Then heads turned to the entrance of the camp. And lo and behold, the heir to High Tide came in, dragging one of the buggers. A wide smile painted itself on his face before he spoke.

"Hah! It seems that the boy is a good hunter! Or at least good with that thing" He had tried earlier, but once the damn buggers proved too agile to take down with a spear -or perhaps he was getting old... no, they were definitely too agile- he had given up, as had most of the knights and lordlings.

The boy in question -or rather the young man in question- shrugged nonchalantly before stating. "T'was only a lucky shot, Your Grace, and some knowledge of the terrain. I am sure any of these men would be better than me in their own lands."

With that, he went into one of the hastily put together tents and started skinning the deer.

An hour or so later, the deer was skinned and its meat was atop the flames to roast. To some, this would seem inconsequential, but to Aegon, Fourth of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Name, this deserved some reward. And to the seven hells with those who disagreed, he was the damn King! He could reward whoever he wanted!

All he had to do, was to think of some way to do so...

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Jul 6, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Corlys III/Aethan X New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Jul 6, 2019

Add bookmark

#73

Lord Velaryon walked through the halls. Thankful that the King apparently had the good sense to warn him about it... What in the seven hells was he thinking! Sitting in his solar he saw his son coming in.

"You called for me Father?"

Corlys nodded as his son sat down, then he spoke.

"Did you do anything in special when the King was out hunting?"

Aethan took a deep breath and shrugged.

"Well... I did catch a dwarf deer, I was watching over the King and his men and it crossed on my line of sight so I took it down with a crossbow..." He stopped suddenly, looking at Corlys, seemingly worried. "I brought too much attention to myself didn't I?" Aethan asked, clearly worried now. Corlys nodded and Aethan sighed.

"Damn... Well, better to keep him focused on me than on trying to bed Larissa" He noted with a small chuckle.

"The King intends to have you join him at court... apparently it is also because it is clear enough that you and Princess Mariah do not get along"

That got Aethan to worry even more. Himself? At Court? What in the seven hells! He had no idea of how to navigate that mess, and most importantly, it might force him to delay his plans with the sea silk. Delay them dangerously. Unlike anywhere in Aerys' reign, he had not even a decent timetable of events that he would need to take into account other than the death of the King in around ten years, and then the First Blackfyre Rebellion sometime after that, and even then, that was vague!

"I suppose he would like me to depart with him to King's Landing, which if I recall correctly should be soon," He told his Father who just nodded

"Yes, His Grace will announce it in a couple of hours, during the feast. And, thinking about it more clearly, You will accept... House Velaryon needs a presence at court, especially with the potential of a Hostile Queen in the future."

Aethan thought about that. He could see the logic. Even if house Velaryon remained loyal in the Blackfyre Rebellions -and he was fairly sure that in the timeline that now laid shattered to pieces, that was the case- They needed someone at court, and this was the least problematic way of doing so...

"Very well Father, but I think we need to talk of something I mentioned to you a few days past, and that might be the first step to keep our family from depending too heavily on the Rogare Bank" He figured that it was his only choice, or at least the only one that would not force him to wait until it was too late.

His father raised an eyebrow, and Aethan sighed.

"Two things, One, can we get anyone who knows how to work with silk, even wild silk? I believe that the fibers of the Greater Sea Pens could be used to create a cloth very much like that of Silk, and if that is true, then that cloth would be well worth more than its weight in gold... And is there some way to start slowly shifting away from the Rogare Bank? I am not sure about why, but I think that House Martell is placing itself in a manner where they can hurt those they perceive as having aided the Young Dragon..."

Aethan had hoped to do things differently, to try out the whole thing with the Sea Pens and present something successful to his father, and then also speak about the bank... But if he had to go to court... No, there was nothing else he could do now.

That confused Corlys, although it did make sense, and explained some things about what Aethan was doing before the King arrived.

Sighing, Corlys nodded and shrugged. "We will speak of it tomorrow in the morning."

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Jul 6, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Aegon IV/Daeron II New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Jul 6, 2019

Add bookmark

#75

Author's note: as usual, full phrases in italics are thoughts, single words in italics within sentences are not thoughts

The King of the Seven Kingdoms was happier than usual.

The food was good, the serving girls were pretty, and he had already announced their return to King's Landing -to be done in the afternoon of the following day- Those closest to him already knowing that it was because Melissa had given birth.

And of course, seeing how well the Velaryon lad was getting along with his son's wife, or rather, how poorly they got along, he was glad to make his announcement...

"Aethan Velaryon! Come forward" He called out, said lad did so in a seemingly calm manner. Although the King could see that the lad was not entirely that calm... "He might as well be scared, it's a vipers' nest that I'm calling him to, but one where I can see if he lives up to his family," He thought before continuing.

"You are to leave with us tomorrow, some time at court would do you good"

The lad bowed in acknowledgment, and with no further words, he sat once more, although the King had him seated closer to the seat of honor where he himself was.

For now, he once more let himself get lost in the feasting and drinking and jesting.

Daeron heard it all and sighed. He knew full well what this meant. He had the chance to speak to him a couple of times and did not seem all that bad, but his wife... She kept her calm face and even a smile, but he knew her well enough to know that she was angry... It would not be a good night, nor a good journey back to the Red Keep. Thankfully, he could have her return to Dragonstone if it became necessary.

"I see that His Grace chose to bring him along... Of course, if he's even slightly similar to the Oakenfist" Daeron heard his wife say quietly. Her face was pleasant, but there was a poison in her voice... Even Daeron was surprised.

"Dear, he has done nothing, I believe you are a bit unfair, besides, House Velaryon has been loyal since before the days of the Conqueror."

"We both know," She told him, dropping the pretense of calm, "that he is a threat. Your Kingly Father wants to have his own Oakenfist" Daeron could see that it took a lot of self-control for her not to spat the name given to Lord Alyn.

"Perhaps, but he does not seem to be a man after my father's heart." He replied. Thankfully most of the attendants to the feast ignored the exchange. "I doubt that he will remain too long at court..." Daeron did not say that he was actually hoping to speak more to him, to measure the young lordling, to bring him to his side if it came to that...

He just hoped that his wife did not turn that into an impossible task.

"Very well, I will try to tolerate him" Mariah Martell finally conceded, and Daeron relaxed somewhat at that. But then she had to add

"But don't think that I or that my Brother will not be watching him..."

Daeron sighed at that. Things had been going so well until this visit.

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Jul 6, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Aethan XI New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Jul 7, 2019

Add bookmark

#80

Even before embarking, Aethan was aware that the Royal Court was divided into two main factions. They were still not outright opposed, but the path was clear...

On one side, the Royal Faction. Old Hardliners and young eager knights, hailing from houses that either bordered Dorne or had a personal reason to hate the Dornish. Or simply houses whose lords preferred a more martial leader. They were the faction from which Aegor Waters and Daemon Blackfyre would draw most of their supporters.

The Princely faction preferred internal development and was hoping to avoid another costly war. They were not uniformly in favor of various policies that either the Prince of Dragonstone or his wife preferred but were relatively cohesive in wanting to avoid the show that would be yet another Dornish War.

The sun was setting, and Aethan stood on the bridge, looking out to sea... He had to admit that being on a ship was soothing for his nerves.

Of course, his mind turned to his options. More specifically, regarding the future Queen.

He had very little chance to speak with the Prince of Dragonstone. Hopefully, the man had simply been caught off guard by his wife and would be able to keep her in check.

Deep in thought, he watched the waves, the waters of the bay flowing towards the horizon... And he could not help but feel the dread building up. Thankfully his father had been receptive, at least enough to agree on experimenting on the Sea Pens. If that was the only venture that worked, it could still bring a considerable amount of money.

As the last rays of sunlight descended, and the Sun finally hid behind the horizon, he made his way to his quarters, deciding that some rest was needed.

Even before entering the harbor, the Stench could be felt.

"Definitely an auspicious entrance," He said quietly as he watched. The Red Keep and Great Sept of Baelor were both absolutely breathtaking... Although he had to admit that he would take Hagia Sophia any day.

They all disembarked, with all the pomp that it entailed, and made their way to the Red Keep. His belongings were taken by servants to be placed in his new chambers, but soon enough a voice called for him.

"Ah, Lord Aethan, I was meaning to speak to you" The voice was gentle, almost warm, and could only belong to the Prince of Dragonstone.

Prince Daeron was not particularly impressive at a first glance, but there was something to the Prince of Dragonstone's eyes...

"Your Highness?" Aethan waited for him to speak, and Daeron nodded.

"I would like to apologize for my wife's behavior..."

"I understand, Your Highness, even if I do not think her to be correct I can see where did all that venom come from. Excuse me, Your Highness, and I mean no offense by this, but you should take care, lest your wife decides to turn some less... forgiving... allies of House Targaryen into enemies."

Prince Daeron seemed surprised, however, he nodded and let out a sigh. At that, Aethan nodded.

"Would you mind joining me? I believe we should speak of other matters."

Daeron was definitely more of a diplomat. Which to Aethan explained why was he known as "the Good" He could Strengthen the Realm while trying to avoid yet another war... Not that it had worked in canon though.

"May I ask what do you think necessary to discuss, Your Highness?"

"I believe that the current state of affairs is untenable, Lord Aethan. And House Velaryon is important to it." Those words piqued the curiosity of the Heir to the Tides, who waited for the Prince to continue.

"As you are aware, House Velaryon and its fleet are key to defending the realm against any possible incursion from the east. And it has come to my attention that the fortunes of your house seem to be dwindling... No offense."

"None taken, Your Highness," Aethan replied, then added. "I am aware of the situation, Your Grace. My Grandfather was a good man, a good leader and a good Lord, but he was not entirely sure how to handle such matters of coin... In more recent years, Her Highness, Princess Elaena, aided him greatly. And My own Father is more skilled in such matters. I will not lie to you, Your Highness, I believe we narrowly avoided a disaster, but it has been averted."

Prince Daeron seemed satisfied with such a reply, of course, Aethan had planned to be more involved... But Old Aethan's memories gave him enough to trust that, with a couple of unorthodox ideas from himself, his Father would be able to steer House Velaryon away from a collapse.

"Ah, that is good to hear. I do hope that you would be willing to dine with me at some point." As important as the Prince's words, were those that were left unsaid. His tone conveyed a small "Before the King steals you to his camp"

"Your Highness, I would be honored to accept, however, I would rather not cause you and your wife more strife. If I may be excused" With those words, and a bow, Aethan Velaryon walked away. Figuring that searching for the Master of Arms of the keep and getting some sparring done would be worth his time, he headed there.

"So far so good" He thought, "Let's hope this does not blow up on my face."

Last edited: Jul 7, 2019

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Jul 7, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Aethan XII New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Jul 7, 2019

Add bookmark

#86

Aethan knew that he was not a great swordsman, even if he was not a bad one either.

Upon arriving at the yard, he met one Ser Quentyn Ball -and he had to admit that the knight was fairly pleasant, in a rough manner- and he had paired him against some knights and squires that were around his age.

The fight was not too remarkable. Parry, strike, parry, block. Ser Quentyn seemed to yell out instructions on various things, and Aethan noticed that his own guards were at times sloppy and his strikes too wide.

After perhaps two hours, they dispersed, and Aethan found himself reluctantly attending a small luncheon. In it, the most prominent man was one Robb Reyne. An interesting man, outspoken and jovial, proud but not in a particularly annoying manner...

And also a man that hated the future queen as much as she hated him.

"Ah, but if it is none other than the Grandson of Lord Oakenfist! Have a seat friend. I trust that Ser Quentyn was not too rough on you" Ser Robb Reyne was a fairly pleasant young man, two years older than Aethan -which made him nine and ten- and one of the best swordsmen among the men of that age group. As for Ser Quentyn Ball. Aethan had fought him in the yard. The man was on his mid-twenties and was so fast and precise that he could easily be classed as one of the best swordsmen around. With such a tutor, it was clear how was it possible that Daemon would grow and fight like the Warrior himself...

"Thank you, Ser Robb, and I have to admit that I am not the greatest swordsman, but that will not stop me from making the effort to improve at it"

The Reyne laughed, a hearty laugh and nodded "Aye, that's a noble sentiment, and it would be nice if certain others shared it!"

Aethan shrugged but noted that his own words and the reply of the Reyne had earned him some acceptance by these men, punctuated by this indirect jab at Prince Daeron. That was good enough for now. Especially as he withdrew from the conversation after some minutes, not having much to say anyway.

The others were all between seven-and-ten and twenty, vivacious and boisterous for the most part, Ser Edgar Oakheart especially. But he returned to his thoughts...

He was well aware that he would not be in a place to influence his way into avoiding the whole mess that would be caused by King Aegon. He was also well aware that he would end up sticking out at court... So what to do?

The luncheon ended, and despite his silence, he found that the knights said their farewells to him with some fondness. He saw a boy, and from how he looked, he had to be Daemon, running around one of the gardens, and a woman that most likely was Daena Targaryen herself nearby. For the time being, he walked past, as it seemed that they had not seen him.

Still lacking an idea.

Dinner was to be held as a smaller feast. Of course, by smaller, it meant that it was just extravagant rather than ludicrously so. But for now, he had a couple of hours to himself. He figured that the libraries of the Red Keep were a decent choice... If anything, perhaps there would be a tome in there that would catch his attention.

Author's Note: Try as I might, I failed miserably at writing a Quentyn "Fireball" chapter, it just did not flow at all

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Jul 7, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Aethan XII New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Jul 13, 2019

Add bookmark

#90

Aethan had to admit to himself that he could engross himself reading History books. Especially this odd chronicle format.

This time it was Daeron I's Conquest of Dorne... A small chuckle escaped him as he closed it, hearing footsteps approach.

"He was a warrior, and would have made a good scholar, had he lived longer, who would have thought?" It was different and refreshing. Daeron was, of course, no unbiased narrator. However, he was direct in his writings. And the boasts -and even some criticism of how he undertook that campaign- were clearly shown. The writing was elegant without being too embellished in style -the content was a different story of course-

A servant came to him as he closed the book, and with a smile, he nodded, put it back on its place, and followed him. There was still an hour before dusk, and Aethan Velaryon would have to change into more appropriate attire.

An hour later, dressed in fine silks of an aquamarine tone with the silver seahorse displayed prominently, Aethan Velaryon entered the hall where the current lesser feast was happening. Since it was just about to start, he was seated -slightly closer to the King than what he was comfortable with- and left to his thoughts as the rest of the court arrived.

It was then that he first saw the King's current lover, Melissa Blackwood sat by the King. Said King had a large grin on his face as he kept doting on her... The fact that Queen Naerys seemed on friendly terms with her -and if anything, the girl was the only one capable of making the King act in a civilized manner towards the Queen- was also a most curious thing. But then again, there was something about her, as if she had not been made for the life of a royal mistress...

Abandoning that train of thought, Aethan found himself near the Reyne knight once more.

"Ah, Lord Aethan, It is good to see you."

"Ser Robb, it is quite good to see you as well"

The Reyne was well liked at court. He was also not getting himself drunk -like some of their companions at the luncheon, who were quite well into their cups after an hour or so- nor trying to find a girl to bed... A curious man indeed, considering how most of the Royal faction seemed to work.

"How are you finding the court, My Lord, I admit I am not entirely on my element here"

Of course, it was clear enough -or so Aethan thought- what Robb Reyne was doing. He was trying to get him more comfortable so he would speak, probably even pledge something without thinking too much. And what a better way to do so than just enough of the truth applied like a surgeon's blade?

"Well Ser Robb, that would make two of us... That being said, I barely arrived early this morning, so I suppose I will find out soon enough just how out of my element am I" Aethan replied with a small smirk, Reyne laughed slightly and shrugged. Then his eyes narrowed, and he looked at the Princess and her entourage... He also seemed surprised when the Prince of Dragonstone and most of his few friends were not with her, leaving her with her dornish courtiers...

"I ought to settle these matters, yet I am afraid that justice will ever elude me." Reyne's voice was kind, but there was steel behind it, a poisoned blade of hate, too sharp to be anything but a personal grudge against Dorne, or one of its houses at least. Then he continued. "My Father, Ser Alyn Reyne, was murdered by the damn Dornish. I was just a small lad when we received his bones..."

"I am deeply sorry for your loss, Ser Robb." Aethan said truthfully, then he added, "If I may... I believe there is one way we can stick it up to them, live long lives, live them well, if we find no chance of marching against Dorne, then making them watch as we honor our dead by living in a way that would have made them proud will be good enough... If the occasion arises, however... Well, then we take it."

The Reyne knight eyed him oddly, then chuckled.

"You are a strange one Lord Aethan, younger than myself, but you speak like an older man, at our age, most men will be yearning for a taste of battle..."

Aethan chuckled at that and shrugged. "Ser Robb, my grandfather used to say that War is one of the seven hells" Of course, Alyn Velaryon had never said that but who would tell Robb Reyne otherwise? "It might be necessary at times, and when it is necessary then it is a duty, but the glory and honor of the tales, well, they are just tales at best. Coming from the man that broke Planky Town and all that, I'd be inclined to believe him"

"Aye, you have given me much to think about, mayhaps we will be able to talk in more depth of such matters tomorrow when we are not in the middle of a feast."

"Well," Aethan told him with a small shrug "That would be a good thing, perhaps we can meet in the yard, and once we are done there for the day, sit down and talk about... eh, whatever comes up at the time I suppose."

Reyne seemed to return to his more cheerful demeanor as he let out a laugh.

"That would be agreeable, Lord Aethan, very much so..."

The rest of the feast seemed to go without incident. Admittedly, Aethan was hoping not to see a feast every night.

Then, as it started to die down, the King called for him.

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Jul 13, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Aegon V/Aethan XIV New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Jul 13, 2019

Add bookmark

#93

The King of the Seven Kingdoms saw that his feast was dying down, and thus he called for the Velaryon lad.

"Your Grace" He asked. And Aegon knew that he had the lad where he wanted him...

"Ah, young Aethan, I was hoping to speak to you" By then Melissa had left, and Aegon decided that it was time... "I assume that you have not met Daemon yet. Well, I suppose you have at least heard the rumors..."

Aegon did not know that the lad in front of him knew more about the little kid than anyone else present in the room. However he did not appear to know such, instead calmly bowing.

"Well, I believe I have need of you for a very important task" Aegon could see that he had even more of the lad's attention by that. He was aware that Lord Oakenfist had knighted him before leaving, and from what he had seen... yes, he would do...

"You see, Daemon will need a knight for whom to page and later on, squire. I had thought of Ser Quentyn, he is a good man and has a good sword arm, but he will need more than that..." The King sighed as he reminisced. "My good cousin was more than just a warrior, he was a leader and a very smart young man. And I want the boy to follow in his steps. I noticed that one of the first things you did upon arrival was going to the yard, that's good. It means that he will be able to learn from Ser Quentyn what you are yourself learning, and you will be able to teach him what he cannot... Young Aethan, Daemon, my son, will be your page. I have told very few the truth about who he is, and I expect you to keep this relatively quiet, at least for now... Let those leeches whisper all they want."

It was at that moment that Aethan Velaryon knew two things.

The first one was that he may have screwed things up, in no small part due to the whole matter with that deer.

The second thing was that King Aegon the Unworthy was not just an idiot who did not have the slightest clue of what he was doing as King other than drinking and whoring his way across the realm... He was much smarter than he gave him credit. And there was a method to his madness... At that moment it became clear that Aegon had not legitimized his bastards on a whim, the last act of spite on his deathbed... It was the last act he could enact of a plan. He had been placing Daemon in positions where he could be molded to follow on the Young Dragon's footsteps...

And now he was at court, had apparently shown a disposition to both, learn on the scholarly side and seek improvement on more martial matters... he was tempted to curse and leave... But he knew better.

"I understand, Your Grace. I admit I do not believe that I am the best teacher, but if that is your command, then I will strive to teach him properly"

"Good," The King told him, "He shall start in a week." He seemed happy enough. And thus Aethan excused himself and left the hall.

Once he had reached his chambers, he finally could think properly on this...

"Shit..." He muttered to himself, He had been hoping to make contacts and stay relatively uninvolved in that mess, to find a way to ensure that House Velaryon would not need to involve itself too heavily, nor spend money and men in the mess of the Blackfyre Rebellions, or at least the first one.

As much as he was in a position to influence the lad, he knew one other thing...

Aegon needed to die, at the latest, in schedule with canon, otherwise, things would come to a head...

"Fucking Murphy" He muttered as he changed. It would be a long week...

Jul 13, 2019

Add bookmark

#96

Author's note: This is a short one

Actually meeting his new page was quite the experience...

Daemon was actually six name-days old. And was definitely a vivacious kid, a ball of raw energy. In some regards, it was clear that he had inherited that from his mother... Of course, meeting the kid came in hand with coming face to face with none other than Daena the Defiant.

The woman was almost as a vision, and it was only his survival instinct kicking into gear that kept Aethan from saying something utterly stupid. She seemed amused by him more than anything. Furthermore, the woman was a serious tease, which combined with Aethan's damned Valyrian features, led him to be quite flustered at the end of that particular meeting. Whatever the case, she seemed satisfied that her son would be in decent hands.

"damn Targaryens and their almost otherworldly beauty... although I can say the same about my sisters..."

Managing to push these thoughts out of his head, he saw the kid, he was fidgeting, even though he kept his composure. Clearly Daena -or Rhaena, most likely, which was funny because he had only seen her once since his arrival- taught him manners well, and Daena had already had him demonstrate that he knew his letters...

"Alright, first things first, when we're in private, call me Aethan, I'll call you Daemon, and then we can get started."

Daemon Waters was bored.

Lord Aethan had proven to be a kind man so far. It had only been a few hours, but he had already told him that they would go to the yard the following day.

"Ser Quentyn is better with the sword than I am, so he will help me in teaching you the basics of combat." he had said. That had made Daemon smile widely. He knew he could be a great knight some day.

However, they were at the library for now.

"This is important as well Daemon, A man who only swings a sword will always be at a disadvantage against men who know how to use their swords and their mind..." Aethan admonished him. With a small nod, Daemon sat and tried to read. He knew how to well enough, it was just so boring!

Eventually, he fell asleep, not noticing Aethan carrying him to his chambers and placing him on his bed before departing for his own chambers.

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Jul 13, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Corlys IV/Aethan XVI New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Jul 14, 2019

Add bookmark

#98

His son's letter was both, worrying and relaxing. On one hand, he was well, mostly, and had apparently avoided any serious problem... On the other, it seemed that the King had made his favorite bastard son Aethan's Page.

Now, that Daemon Waters was Aegon's son was one of those things that no one said to anyone, but that was widely known regardless -and Elaena had told him that it was true regardless- King Aegon had not technically recognized him as his own, but it was widely known at court and beyond.

It also appeared that he had caught the attention of one Robb Reyne. Corlys remembered that his father and the lad's father, one Damon Reyne were on good terms and the latter had died in Dorne. Thus, it kind of made sense.

Lord Velaryon was thus left wondering just what had the King in mind.

With little else he could do, Aethan went down for dinner, thinking...

The day started early. Aethan woke up and soon enough was met by Daemon. The bouncing ball of energy seemed to be ecstatic, and that was because, of course, they would go to the yard.

Taking the boy to get some breakfast, Aethan decided to do something...

"I believe we have time for a story, or at least the beginning of one" Aethan told him with a smirk "My Grandfather heard it in Yi-Ti, the story of three great men who lived long ago in a land beyond the Saffron Straits..." Daemon looked at him wide-eyed, the smirk on Aethan's face grew as he continued. "Their names, strange as they sound, were Oda Nobunaga, Toyotomi Hideyoshi, and Tokugawa Ieyasu"

The next hour was spent with him setting the stage, and, once an hour had passed, Aethan got Daemon to the yard. He had complained a bit

The kid took to Ser Quentyn almost immediately, and most of the knights and elder squires soon took to watch with smiles on their face. Of course, who would not smile when seeing a six-year-old playing to be a knight as he was being taught the most basic parts of sword fighting.

Soon enough, most knights and squires took to practicing, Aethan included. And this lasted for a couple of hours.

Later, Aethan chose to have his lunch in private with Daemon, who looked at him, with a small chuckle he nodded.

"Where did we left off? oh, yes, So, Ieyasu had one thing, he was quite possibly the luckiest man alive in that land. And after surviving as a hostage in the lands of an enemy house, he now found himself with only five men to hold a castle against a whole army..."

Of course, the story had nothing to do with Yi-Ti, but it was what he could pass for a story set in a faraway land without much issue. And it was similar enough to the feudal system to hopefully impart a couple of lessons...

When that day ended, Daemon wanted to hear more, and Aethan, with a small chuckle, ended the story for the day. They slowly made out of the library and towards the chambers.

Perhaps this was not that bad after all...

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Jul 14, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Aethan XVII/Daeron III/Maron I New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Jul 18, 2019

Add bookmark

#104

As the great party rode through the Kingsroad towards Maidenpool, Aethan Velaryon, or rather, the man who was now known as Aethan Velaryon was wondering where did his life go wrong.

Of course, most men would say that they do not deserve hell. Yet at times he could not help but wonder if this was his eternal punishment.

Then some small things happened, and he realized that he had to be truly alive rather than in some sort of twister afterlife. It could be anything, from the sea breeze to the moments where he would be with Daemon and Ser Quentyn -not to mention the pain and bruises that the latter tended to inflict- And so, here he was. The Royal party included the King, several courtiers, himself, Daemon, Daena Targaryen, and many others whose names still escaped him.

Their route was simple enough, up to Maidenpool -and they had recently stopped at Duskendale... Not to mention that the King seemed quite content trying to get him and the daughter of Lord Darklyn on a bed- After that, the King would oblige the hospitality of Lord Lothston, Lord Tully, and end his journey at Raventree Hall...

Of course, how could this go wrong?

"Aethan... you never told me what happened to Ser Hideyoshi. Did he conquer the Koreans?" Ah, of course, as they were all setting up tents and other dwellings, the resident cute little future rebel had to ask.

"No Daemon," Aethan told him in reply, "the Koreans are a fierce people, and despite losing many a battle, their greatest admiral was still at sea, wreaking havoc among the fleet of Hideyoshi. Eventually, and his tale is one for another day, this admiral managed to force the Japanese to retreat from Korea, at the cost of his own life."

The boy frowned, and so Aethan ruffled his hair once he finished setting up the tent.

"Daemon, this is one thing you must remember. Armies alone won't win wars. You must keep them supplied... And you must make sure that your men are willing to fight. The Japanese were the better warriors, but with their fleets smashed and their enemy not surrendering after all the battles, they lost the will to fight."

The boy eagerly nodded, and Aethan smiled at that. Both sat by a small campfire and soon enough they had a couple of birds roasting on it.

His brief moment of peace and quiet was disturbed by a figure approaching, and at first Aethan was about to take his sword... Then he noted that it was the only man who was less willing to come in this trip than himself... Daeron Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone...

"Ah, Your Highness, may I ask what brings you here?" Aethan found himself oddly amused, and how not? here were two men -or a man and a boy- who in some twenty years would be fighting for that damned Iron Monstrosity that they called a throne. Daeron, short, thin and with eyes that showed a mixture of kindness and despair, was not exactly an impressive figure. However he would be a fairly competent man in the throne... If only...

Said Prince sat by them, and prompted by Daemon -because Daemon seemed to not know yet who his father actually was- took some of the meat that was roasted.

"I hope you do not mind my intrusion, Lord Aethan, but as you may imagine, I find that the company of most of our current companions in this trip to be... "

"Annoying, I get it. I can relate to that, at least to an extent." Aethan finished the phrase and the Prince of Dragonstone sighed. For a moment, the Velaryon thought to ask about the Princess. But figuring that he was very much not in the mood to summon the devil and tempt Murphy, he abstained.

Prince Daeron had to admit that he did not know what was worse. His wife, who was usually sweet and pleasant had very much turned into some sort of viper in the last few weeks, especially when she and the Velaryon lordling had to be in the same space. Thus he arranged to have her go back to Dragonstone -Baelor, his son, would remain in King's Landing, as he was to be a page for his grand-uncle Aemon- and then found himself roped into coming.

He was too aware of what his father's trips across the realm entailed, and for a young man with a quiet disposition and more frugal than anything else, it was almost disgusting.

That was, of course, not counting his father's proclivity to constantly seek women to bed. Daeron did not hold against him the fact that he had lovers, he knew from a very early age that his parents did not quite get along. And he figured that they were at least on better terms like this than how they would be if that were not the case... But not only he could not settle on a single lover, he could not even keep on with his lovers without constantly bedding other women.

"You have the right of it, although I would not say it so bluntly, My Lord."

"Ah, please," The Velaryon replied. "First, I am not yet a Lord, and hopefully I will not be Lord of anything for quite some time. Thus, call me Aethan, at least when it's only the three of us." Of course, he had to note that Daemon was here. His parentage was the worst-kept secret in Westeros. So Daeron knew full well that the lad was his half-brother. He had an idea... Of course, Mariah would object, but if He were to remain with her in King's Landing, and keep Baelor with someone she was willing to trust -as was Aemon-... perhaps that could work.

"And secondly," the lordling continued, "I would rather call things by their name, Your Highness."

Aethan Velaryon was a strange man. Calm and collected even when his most usual companions in the last few weeks were anything but. Strong-willed yet usually courteous... And then there were moments like this.

"If you insist" Daeron told him simply, this was still better than his current alternatives.

"Good, now, I hope you do not mind, but I was about to start telling Daemon here a tale. An old legend that my Grandfather came across in one of his travels to Braavos. The King of an ancient realm forgotten by time. The man's name was Suleiman, King of the Ottoman Turks"

He did not know that such tales came from another world, nor that they were chosen because the names would not be uncannily similar to those common in Westeros...

Maron Martell read his sister's latest letter and sighed.

Of Course, House Martell would eventually have its revenge, but he feared that she was letting the situation go to her head. He had to admit that he had yet to meet the lad that she was so clearly intent on hating. However, unlike her, Maron Martell, Prince of Dorne, could not afford to judge him just yet. Especially when Daeron was less negative about him.

And so, Maron Martell left his solar. He had worked so hard already to keep the fragile peace between Dorne and the Targaryens. He knew that Daeron was willing to bring a more permanent solution to the problem, and the two had exchanged ideas on such a thing.

Now, for the first time, he feared that his sister would put it in jeopardy for an old grudge.

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Jul 18, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Aethan XVIII New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Jul 20, 2019

Add bookmark

#107

Maidenpool was a city in its own right, although there was no charter given to it. It was one in all but name, and House Mooton was very rich. Easily the richest house in the Riverlands. Some of the houses closer to the Trident proper looked down on them. -And Aethan recalled the lady Melissa stating that her father thought very little of them as if they were soiled by the merchant thing in their holding- But the fact that they had once been Kings seemed to avoid such sentiments from being as prominent as they were with the Freys.

They were received, given Bread and Salt, and into the keep they went. Aethan's mind was partly somewhere else. More precisely in Osowiec. At least until he was settled on a set of chambers.

Right now, Daemon was with Ser Quentyn. The knight had taken to the boy and Aethan knew well enough that the only man stupid enough to do something foolhardy such as trying to get Daemon while he was with the Fireball had been killed in Driftmark by the Dragonknight. This left him the night to think.

On one hand, he had no intention to let canon go ahead as scheduled. Not only because he had grown fond of the little ball of energy that was his page, but also because his own survival in the long term was very much tied to the kid's, and while he had to admit that he preferred a more peaceful solution with Daeron -who seemed to think likewise, thankfully- it would be foolish to not even contemplate such a possibility, especially when there would most likely be some at court who would be glad to force Daemon's hand at a future date.

Under such circumstances Aethan looked at the Bay of Crabs from the small balcony, thinking as he felt the sea breeze. This would be the last place where he would feel it for some time.

A War with Dorne would eventually come unless a permanent solution could be reached. Aethan had yet to meet the Prince of Dorne, and from what little he recalled he was rational enough. Then again, he had expected that Princess Mariah Martell would be a more sensible person, and here they were.

And again his mind drifted to Osowiec, wondering if the Dornish would be mad enough to pull such a defense even if placed under such circumstances... There had to be another way.

He knew that if a Third Dornish War broke out, especially within the next ten or twenty years, many would clamor for a War of Annihilation. And he was also painfully aware that he had not the stomach for such a thing. However, if for whatever reason a generous -if not extreme, as was Daeron's- offer was made to the Dornish during the escalade of tensions, at the very least it would calm his own conscience -as well as many lords who were not so eager to march across those damn mountain passes- After that it was a matter of keeping their own armies in check. Keep the main Dornish armies in the passes, once more take the Greenblod and the Torrentine from the sea, and then what?

Keeping their own armies in check rather than letting them rampage across the land and despoil the already poor dirt as Daeron I had done in the wake of his initial victory was a good first step. Even Daeron I admitted so in his chronicle of the Conquest of Dorne. Mix that with absolute ruthlessness against actual insurgents -rather than the velvet gloves that Aethan could remember that every government in his previous life used- would be necessary as well.

And with those thoughts he finally went to sleep, sure that the next few days would be tiresome.

Breakfast was served relatively late and in the shape of a feast. Of course, House Mooton was very rich, and they could throw a lavish feast without making much of a dent in their finances... That left Aethan wondering why did they never try to go beyond their already good stance, but perhaps they had tried and failed either, he could not quite recall.

The King, as usual, was busy flirting with various serving girls and lesser ladies. Which left Aethan curious for a moment, then he noticed quite clearly that Lord William Mooton was doing pretty much the same that his father had done about keeping his daughter as far away from the King as possible. When Aethan noticed their host looking at him, he smiled knowingly and bowed his head before continuing.

Sadly, Robb Reyne had not joined them on this trip. Thus he was left in an awkward position among the younger knights and lordlings. Many of them seemed to enjoy the King's lecherous proclivities and busied themselves in similar ways.

They would stay for a bit over a week in Maidenpool. The King announced so. Aethan was not sure what to make of it. Surely it had been at Lady Melissa's insistence.

For now, he ate slowly, thinking. Hoping that the King would not get a similar idea to the ones he had entertained at Duskendale. Then again, Lord Darklyn had seemed more content in letting his daughters toy with the idea. Lord Mooton was more clearly trying to avoid such a situation.

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Jul 20, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Aethan XIX New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Jul 21, 2019

Add bookmark

#111

The Second Day at Maidenpool seemed to pass by quickly. Aethan was with Daemon and Ser Quentyn in the yard, the local master at arms and the son of Lord Mooton being there as well as many of the young knights and lordlings of the King's Entourage. However, most knights were trying to put on a show.

The reason for that was that Lord Mooton's eldest daughter, Ellyn, was watching from a balcony with some other ladies. The girl in question was five and ten or six and ten, had long flowing light brown hair framing a pretty face with pale skin and honey-colored eyes. It was clear enough why Lord Mooton kept her away from the King. She was not as drop-dead gorgeous as say, Daena Targaryen, but there was something about her, about how she carried herself in the one or two occasions that Aethan had seen her so far, it reminded him of someone, and at the same time it was somewhat similar to the Lady Blackwood that the King was so fond of.

Aethan sighed in annoyance at how much of a show-off everyone seemed to become now -save for Ser Quentyn it seemed- And when he finally stood on the ground, he sighed. He had to admit that, despite his improvement with the sword, he was not an impressive fighter.

However, that did not mean that he did not have an idea to put those braggarts in their place. Especially obnoxious was one Hightower knight, he was firmly in the kingly faction, but the two did not quite get along, even though he barely remembered the man's name. And so, he walked into the field, wearing a cuirass and mail and with a regular arming sword rather than the claymore-like sword that the knight seemed to favor.

Normally, Aethan would be definitely outmatched. But his opponent was overconfident and too aggressive. So Aethan decided to close the distance as much as he could. Withstanding the attacks by blocking more than dodging, then he feinted low before grabbing his sword by the blade and doing his actual strike. It was not a flashy move, but it did leave the tip of Aethan's blade on the Hightower knight's throat, in the gap of his armor.

After a second or two, he yielded, and Aethan walked out of the fighting ring. Soon enough returning to Daemon, who was practicing his footwork with Ser Quentyn. Wondering if the Westerosi had something against half-swording. He had barely seen anyone use it after all.

The rest of the day came about rather quickly. Most of the knights continued on their attempts to one-up the rest until the lady Ellyn retired -which was shortly after the King went to the courtyard, not that he had noticed- while Aethan had left once Daemon was finally tired. Taking the kid to his mother, Aethan was once more left mostly alone with his thoughts, and he headed to the gardens.

"Lord Aethan, I thought you would be in the courtyard still" He heard someone say. When he turned, it was the heir to Lord William, a lad around his own age named Florian. With him was his sister Ellyn, and a couple of other ladies.

"Lord Florian," Aethan bowed slightly in deference to the son of his host, "I admit that I was there more for duty than for pleasure, unlike some of the other guests."

"I see... Well, since we are here, I ought to let you know that my Father wishes to speak to you later. He has not told me what is it about, but I suppose that it will be important."

Aethan nodded at that. His eyes managing to stay on Florian, as tempting as was the vision by his side. "In that case I ought to go to your father at once, or as soon as it is convenient for him, Lord Florian. Would you know where can I find him now?"

"Aye," Florian told him nonchalantly, "We can lead you to his solar."

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Jul 21, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks William I New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Jul 26, 2019

Add bookmark

#115

Lord William Mooton had been having an awful week so far.

It all boiled down to the King's visit. Of course, he would not be short of money out of this -the trade with Braavos, Pentos, Lorath, and the lesser trade contacts in Gulltown were enough to keep House Mooton afloat from a week or two of Royal Feasting- But it still caused a massive disruption in his keep, as well as in the town outside of it.

Oh, he should not care that much, the amount of gold that the King and his court were spending would more than make up the extra spending, but it was still too gawdy for his likes. Even if he was not really a man with his head filled with numbers and coins -that was his brother Raymond- William Mooton, Lord of Maidenpool knew enough of such matters to know that this was not a good week.

And then there was the clear yet unspoken intent of the King in bedding his daughter.

He had managed to keep an eye and an ear at court. After all, even though he was technically a vassal of House Tully, he was much closer to the Royal seat than to Riverrun. He could not afford to be on the dark about such matters.

That was part of the reason for his correspondence with Lord Velaryon. The man had proposed that the two houses quietly sponsor merchants on trips to the far east. A fleet that would alternate between Maidenpool and Driftmark with the intent of setting sail once each year, they would buy food cheaply in Yi-Ti, gather gold in staggering amounts in the Shadow, buy some more exotic wares between Yi-Ti, Leng and Qarth, and then return as they sold a portion in the ports on their way. There was only one issue with such an expedition... It would have to pass through the Stepstones.

If the circumstances were different, if tempers did not run hot and blood sang to the ears of knights, even William would agree on letting the Martells in -after all, they could provide ports that would allow their merchants to offload their goods before entering the infested Stepstones- However, as much as Lord Corlys and himself had agreed that it would be a desirable situation, it was simply not going to happen. Not when the breaking of Planky Town was in living memory, not to mention the betrayal and murder of King Daeron.

Thus these expeditions would need partners in the Free Cities. The Velaryons were close to the Rogares, but Lord Corlys had expressed his worries that such a connection might not be as valuable as hoped in the future. William disagreed, of course, the Rogares were clearly returning to prominence in recent years and if they managed to secure a hold in the governing of Lys, then they could be brought in. With the Lysene Fleet aiding them, their pass through the Stepstones would be less of a risk.

His thoughts were interrupted by a servant. He brought wine and cheese, he bowed, placed them on his desk, and spoke.

"My Lord, Aethan Velaryon is here."

"Ah, bid him in and leave us alone."

The lad was odd, in a curious manner. Lord Corlys did not write much about him before the Oakenfist was declared lost at sea. However, in the last few letters, he admitted that a couple of the ideas were his. There was the idea about the sea silk, and that was a tempting proposition, although the waters in the Bay of Claws were not nearly as rich in Sea Pens of the variety that they claimed would be useful for this.

"Lord Mooton" The lad spoke, William looked at him over. He had yet to bring the idea to Lord Velaryon, and depending on his behavior during the week he might scrap the idea. However, so far, it seemed like the best option. Especially since Lord Velaryon was rather receptive to it... Still, he knew better than to count his salmons before catching them.

"Ah, young Aethan, please have a seat, we have much to discuss."

Author's Note: yeah, the scene has been a mess to write, hopefully, we will get to it soon

Last edited: Jul 26, 2019

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Jul 26, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Aethan XX New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Aug 1, 2019

Add bookmark

#131

Author's Note: Well, the marriage discussion has been fun, and by all means continue it please, but for now, enjoy

Come morning of the third day at Maidenpool, Aethan woke up rather fresh. Lord Mooton had spoken with him at length about trade, projects, and some politics. He had also asked about his family, and he learned a couple of things about him. Lord Mooton's father had been a partner of Aethan's own grandfather in matters about trade, with Driftmark ships docking in Maidenpool when returning from Braavos or the cities of the Shivering Sea, and Maidenpool traders going first to Driftmark when traveling from the Summer Sea.

He had also learnt that Lord Mooton was fairly neutral when it came to the court. Not caring too strongly about the growing dispute between the King and the Prince of Dragonstone, nor feeling too strongly about Mariah Martell. In Lord William's words "So long as no one does anything stupid, I have no reason to worry more than normal." And Lord William was a chronic worrier.

Thus, as he left Lord Mooton's solar and headed to the feast, he was in somewhat higher spirits than usual for these events. Not enough to get drunk to be fair, but higher than usual.

And come morning? Morning was spent in the courtyard, with Daemon and Ser Quentyn. The Hightower man, whom now Aethan knew was named Jon -and for some reason that sounded familiar, but he could not quite place it- was also there. For now he was sparring with Florian Mooton, but it was clear that he was eager for a rematch.

"I think I screwed it up Ser Quentyn" Aethan said calmly during a small sparring bout which he clearly was losing against the Fireball.

"You mean about Hightower? Nah, too proud for his own good, his Ego can use a couple more bruises" Quentyn Ball replied, shortly after, Aethan had to yield, despite the encouragement of his squire.

"If you say so" Aethan replied, he had been going with a new sword, a broadsword with a basket hilt. Then he noticed two things. First, Ellyn Mooton was back on the balcony, which meant that suddenly, most knights would turn into show-offs... It also meant that Jon Hightower was coming his way.

Hightower was a tall man, handsome and absolutely despicable, a scoundrel who would sell his mother to gain some gold with which he could flaunt at court. Now the name clicked, the man had presented Serenei of Lys to Aegon in order to become hand... Now he remembered, and cursed under his breath.

"Ser Jon" Aethan greeted him with seeming calm. The Hightower nearly sneered and looked at him.

"You may be Lord Oakenfist's grandson, I will still enjoy beating you in the yard" He had his greatsword, and Aethan let out a sigh.

"Well Ser, I will admit I am not a great swordsman, but I will not just concede defeat if that is your wish." With that, Aethan walked towards the center of the training yard, followed closely by Jon Hightower. Figuring that he had just made an enemy within the Royal faction... Oh well, such things were unavoidable anyway.

He went into a defensive position, waiting as the local master at arms called for the match to begin. Both he and Hightower had noticed the lady Ellyn watching, leaning a bit more on the balcony than the previous time. Apparently more interested this time...

Hightower attacked with sheer fury, Aethan parried and blocked with cold determination, Again, Hightower's pride made him overconfident, striking widely and doing fancy twirls and turns. Aethan remained grounded on one spot, only moving as necessary, waiting for his opening.

Once more, Hightower made one strike too wide, and despite the strenght in it, Aethan blocked, a hand on the handle, another on his own blade, then he twisted his grip and his sword in a manner that pulled the larger man's sword from his hand.

Putting the tip of the broadsword to Hightower's neck, Aethan did not smirk -despite how much he wanted to- instead just saying "Do you yield, Ser Jon?"

Grumbling, Jon Hightower yielded, and walked out in a dark mood. Aethan shrugged, figuring that he would have butted heads with him sooner or later, and returned to Ser Quentyn, paying no mind to the whispering ladies on the balcony.

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Aug 1, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Ellyn I/Aethan XXI New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Aug 2, 2019

Add bookmark

#136

Ellyn had been watching the knights on the yard, The Royal visit did have its good things, such as the new faces that would stay there for the week.

Her cousin, Alyssa, had clearly taken to the Hightower lordling. And even Ellyn had to admit that Jon Hightower was a very handsome man, and he would definitely be considered a good match... That being said, Alyssa had not had the... encounters she had with him. Ellyn had found him crass, proud and more than a bit entitled, believing himself to have a right to the attention of the fairer sex. Still, the tall muscular and handsome man did have his share of admirers. Ellyn was just not among them. And judging from the way her father acted towards him, she figured that neither was he.

Most of the other lordlings, knights, and squires of the royal party were fairly unremarkable. Most of them were apparently putting on a show on the yard earlier, as they had done the previous day. But she had to admit that one of them had caught her attention, funnily enough, by trying to not do so. Of course, a young man of the blood of Old Valyria would not go unnoticed, not to mention the fact that Valyrians, in general, tended to be good looking... She, however, was rather intrigued. Of course she knew who he was, he was Aethan Velaryon, heir to High Tide and Driftmark, son of one of her father's friends, and perhaps the only one among the royal party who seemed interested in something other than picking fights, bedding serving girls and drinking her father's stocks dry of wine and spirits.

Unlike many of the middle and high-standing lordlings that traveled with the King, he had not really approached her so far, they had barely exchanged a couple of words and she could not read him. Still, as she was, at last, dressed, she pushed those thoughts away. Slowly walking into the great hall with her father. Another night, another feast, another few hours of awkwardly watching as the knights, squires, and lordlings got themselves drunk and tried to bed the servant girls.

She hoped that her father did not think to marry her off to one of those currently doing so, but she was old enough to know that it was a possibility, and perhaps it would be the best for her house... Still, she could not help but wish and hope as if she were a little girl.

After a couple of hours, she abandoned the feast. Tired, bored and more than a bit bothered.

That night's feast was perhaps one of the most bothersome that Aethan had been in since his arrival at the mainland. It seemed as if for some reason the King and most of his party had decided to step-up their debauchery. He could not help but chuckle slightly as he thought that it would mess up with all those wanting to try to woo the young lady Mooton. Once he knew that no one was listening, Aethan could not help it...

"God, at this rate they will end up birthing a chaos god or something like that" he muttered with a small chuckle. Thankfully, even Murphy seemed to fear them, or at least the bastard agreed with him on the fact that magic was already messed up enough for the setting.

After some time, with most people drunk enough to not care, and with both Prince Daeron and the lady Mooton retiring, he did the same, wondering if at least she could be pleasant talk. That had been one thing he sorely missed about not having the Reyne knight around.

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Aug 2, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Aethan XXII New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Aug 10, 2019

Add bookmark

#143

The remainder of the week was a bore, or so Aethan thought. The King could not spend one night without some sort of feast, and although he seemed to have calmed down a bit, toned down the debauchery, he just needed the damn things...

And thus, the royal caravan departed Maidenpool and headed towards Harrenhall. Aethan was not entirely sure if he wanted things to be more interesting, or to remain boringly disgusting. After all, Murphy seemed to have taken an interest in him...

"Aethan!" Called out the resident ball of energy and future treason that was his page. "You did not tell me what did King Alexandros do to conquer Tyre!" Of course, once the story of Suleiman had been wrapped up, Aethan needed something to tell, and Alexandros Megas, Alexander the Great, was a good one. Exciting yet with that cautionary message at the tail end... So far, he had just gotten him to Tyre, and it was clear that Daemon was already admiring him more than anyone else...

Perhaps Basil the Slayer of Bulgars could be next...

"Ah, yes, King Alexandros" And Aethan was trying to keep the names as greek as possible, to avoid uncanny similarities where he could, "saw that Tyre was an island, and he had no ships with him. So, he had his men build a large earthen platform that would connect the isle to the mainland. Once he had done that, he took the siege engines and used them to bring down one of the sides of the walls of Tyre, then plundered the city as he had promised to do should they not surrender..."

The tale continued, and he managed to tell him about Siwa before sunset.

Shortly after sunset, Aethan was summoned by the King. He walked out of his tent and sighed, muttering to himself as he walked...

"Beware of the Greeks bearing gifts"

He was ushered into the tent where the King was, still wearing his fine silks...

"Ah! There you are lad! I see you have done quite well for yourself"

Aethan managed to hide the mixture of fear, disgust and annoyance that ran through his veins. Bowing instead before replying simply "Yes, Your Grace, although it has been due to your favor" Of course such a person might appreciate just a bit of flattery, especially if there was truth beneath it...

"Pah, I have plenty of flatterers at court already, I have no need of one more..." The Fat King stated as he drank from his goblet, "Now, what have you thought about your future?"

That took Aethan by surprise, and he was thankful that he had no wine of his own...

"Your Grace... " Aethan was at a blank, so busy with surviving court and figuring how to properly see to having a page... "I-I have not thought much of it lately, Your Grace" He found himself replying. Knowing that Murphy would likely do a number on him out of this... "To be entirely honest" and he was not really, but it suited his purposes to say that "I had always thought that I would inherit from my Father, hopefully not too soon, and get my house's fortunes back on track."

That got a small smile from the King. And that smile, frankly, scared Aethan. The last time he saw it, he ended up having to take little Daemon not-yet-Blackfyre as a page after all.

"I see... Very well, I have much to think about then, you may return to Daemon".

Knowing a dismissal, when he heard one, Aethan made his way out. Trying to ignore the dread building, trying to think of anything but what it could be that the King was thinking about...

He refused to even think of what he did not want to happen. If there was one thing he did not want to do in this world, was to keep tempting Murphy so often...

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Aug 10, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Daeron IV/Aegon VI New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Aug 10, 2019

Add bookmark

#145

Being a day away from Harrenhall, Daeron Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone, found himself with little else to do other than join in the small hunt that his father had organized. As he reluctantly walked towards the hunting party, he picked up a bow and a quiver full of arrows. As the party soon assumed positions, the Prince of Dragonstone set himself up in a rather secluded area.

Daeron had never really enjoyed the hunt. And in general, he had never been a martially-oriented man. However, there was something to shooting a bow... This one was a recurve bow, a gift from a Pentoshi emissary who had acquired it from a Dothraki -albeit he did not know how- And save for the Weirwood or Dragonbone bows, it was perhaps the best in terms of putting an arrow in a target.

Standing still he waited, slowly drawing and aiming at an unsuspecting deer... Then he heard a string and saw that same deer dropping dead, a crossbow bolt embedded in its spine. That confused him, as he knew most of his father's companions, they all favored the spear, and they all favored the Boar as a quarry.

Slowly walking towards the downed stag, he saw that the man with the crossbow was Aethan Velaryon. He seemed surprised but managed to smile slightly.

"Ah, Your Grace! I did not know you had joined us today" It seemed clear that hunting was not an activity that he enjoyed greatly either. "I also did not know you used a bow"

"I had not expected to see you here, Lord Aethan."

"Likewise, Your Grace. I suppose I just stole your kill as well... Tell you what, I'll help you get another spot, I saw a stream nearby and there were a few more of them drinking, perhaps that would be a good place."

The Crown Prince thought for a moment, and rather reluctantly, he nodded.

As the sun began to fall, the King made his way back into the camp. It had been clear that they would arrive the following afternoon to Harrenhall, and he had figured that a small hunt was a good way to keep everyone busy, and to keep himself in a good mood as he thought.

It was too soon for that reward, although he was most definitely considering it. Besides, despite how different the lad was -and how similar he was to Daeron at times- he had taken a liking to him. If he wanted the future Lord Velaryon firmly on his side, painting a target on his back was hardly the way to do so after all...

However, he was completely taken by surprise when he saw his heir apparent, walking alongside Lord Aethan, with that recurve bow in hand, and a horse dragging two stags. One of them had a crossbow bolt on its spine, the other one had an arrow on the neck.

At that moment, Aegon Targaryen, Fourth of His Name, could not help but think for a fleeting moment, that Daeron seemed more like his own son than like anyone else's... at least for a moment.

This, he decided, was worthy of a greater feast once they had arrived at Harrenhall.

Aug 10, 2019

Add bookmark

#147

And have another short one

The Lord of Harrenhall watched as the King and his party made way into the walls of Harrenhall.

His castle was the largest ever built, and thus he made sure that His Grace would find it grandiose. Golden decorations adorned the walls within the keep itself. The massive Great Hall was also lavishly decorated and with the best tables chairs and utensils on it. The cooks were making dish after dish for the Feast that His Grace announced as soon as he set foot into the keep...

Oh, he knew that his wife had bedded the man when he was but a prince. He also knew that she fancied him still. Of course, women were drawn to power. And since he already had two healthy sons whose ancestry could not be disputed... And then there was little Jeyne.

His eldest daughter was all of eleven years old, a willful little girl who had inherited her mother's long honey-colored hair and dark blue eyes... Of course, he knew that it was rumored that she had been born to the now King, but he did not particularly care. He had raised her, not King Aegon...

The entrance of the King was awkward, but not more than usual when considering that his House was rather young. Pleasantries, bread, and salt were exchanged, and soon everyone began to settle.

Harrenhall was impressive in a special manner. Its walls were normal, but the main keep was blackened by Dragonfire. Both from Aegon's Dragons and from the more recent Dance.

Aethan however, could only think that it was an awful place, not to mention probably cursed... They were greeted by Lord and Lady Lothston, their daughter and their twin sons. Unlike the girl, the boys had bright red hair and green eyes.

Making into the castle, Aethan managed to settle in a set of rooms. Wondering where had his life gone wrong that he had ended up here. Admittedly, it was a question that he was asking less frequently than in his first week after arriving. However, it was still often enough.

Today there would be no training and little time for stories with Daemon -he would be with his mother- So, here he was, very much alone and deep in thought. Soon enough he would have to head to yet another feast. Soon enough he would be forced to endure that mess...

His thoughts drifted to his family. He remembered that Lord Celtigar was seeking to get his eldest son Ardrian married to Larissa. The boy was not a bad man, and he had to admit that he would not object to such a thing. His Father would likely also be seeking a proper match for Valaena. Although she did not seem to care about it, and Father did not seem to be in too great a hurry...

This left him to think about himself. He knew that he would have to marry. And he knew that although he could afford to wait a couple of years, he could also find his hand forced in that regard... Thus, trying to make peace with that, he made his way down to the feast. Definitely not too happy about how were things going.

Last edited: Aug 11, 2019

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Aug 10, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Aegon VII/Daeron V New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Aug 13, 2019

Add bookmark

#149

The first morning at Harrenhall for the King was spent in bed, by his side was Falena, now the lady of Harrenhall. She had aged gracefully, and Aegon had found himself succumbing to her as he had when he was a young lad. She let out a somewhat content sigh as the sunlight made into the chambers and the King chuckled.

"Something on your mind?" Aegon asked in a calm manner. These were the moments where he was in his best mood. Enjoying the warmth on his bed in the morning after a night of passion...

"Nothing specific... I must admit that I missed this" She replied in an equally calm manner. "Lucas is a good man, but gods he can be dull..." She thought for a moment then added. "You would not mind lending me that narrow sea lad, would you?" She was jesting, at the very least, partly. "Only for a couple of weeks if you need him at court so much."

That got a hearty laugh from the King "Gods woman, you are insatiable" It was all in good jest, that he was sure of. The fact that she laughed along confirmed it for him.

"I get it, you can keep him if you want that so much"

Rolling his eyes, Aegon Targaryen rose from the bed, a small smile still painted on his face.

"Aye, I ought to get up, After all, I do have to be a bother for your husband for this week."

Again she laughed and shrugged as she sat on the bed. "Sure, go away like you always did"

Rolling his eyes once more, but still in a demonstrably good mood, the King put on his breeches and made his way out.

Breaking his fast with Lord Lothston had been an interesting way for Daeron to start his morning. The Lord of Harrenhall was well aware that his wife had chosen the King's bed the previous night, and his response still left Daeron unsettled...

"Pah, I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to the marriage and the lordship. If any children we actually have will have a better life because I let her do such things, then I guess I have little choice, don't I?" Lord Lothston had told him earlier... Thus, once they had broken their fasts, he set out to find the library of Harrenhall. It was not nearly as impressive as the tomes available in Dragonstone or the Red Keep, but it kept some interesting ones regardless. House Strong had kept a series of tomes on the Riverlands, and there were even a few that had survived the burning of the castle by Aegon the Conqueror.

"Ah, Your Grace. I admit I am not too surprised to see you here" He heard a voice from behind him just as he was about to enter the place. Turning around, he saw that it was the Velaryon lordling.

"Princess Daena informed me that she would spend the day with her son, so I figured this would be a good place to be in the meantime" He added, and the Prince of Dragonstone could not help but shrug slightly.

"You are welcome to join me then, Lord Aethan" He finally replied, it came out slightly awkward, but the heir to High Tide did not seem to mind that too much, or so Daeron thought.

The two made their way into the library, settling on a small table and picking up some old tomes. Daeron noted that the lordling picked up one on House Justman and shrugged. Soon enough engrossed on his own old tome.

Thus was spent the rest of the morning for the Prince of Dragonstone. He did not notice the Velaryon lordling putting his own tome aside and leaving.

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Aug 13, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Daena I/Quentyn I New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Aug 13, 2019

Add bookmark

#152

The letter that she recieved was from one of the ladies in waiting. Of course, that Dornish bitch did not know that she had one loyal to herself in the midst of that viper pit. Still, it was worrying...

A small smirk spread across her face at the thought "maybe I should try actually doing as she claims... then again, he might not know how to respond"

The letter in question informed her of what the Dornish princess was claiming. That she and the Velaryon lad were plotting to murder both, Daeron and little Baelor, and install Daemon in the throne. The Dornish bitch also had the gall to claim that the lad was often found at her bed!

For once, she figured that Daeron had made the right thing and sent her off to brood in Dragonstone rather than keep her in the Red Keep while they were all gone. Still, she would have preferred a more... permanent solution.

Her son woke up soon enough, and she went back to having him tell her about the stories that Aethan told him

A most curious thing indeed

The training yard was massive -as was everything in the accursed castle- which left him plenty of space. Thus, he focused on the young man and the boy with him.

Daemon, the little ball of energy was a natural with the sword, and Quentyn knew that he would likely even surpass Prince Aemon in due time.

Then there was Aethan, the lad was improving, slowly but surely. The fact that he was clearly more comfortable with the basket-hilted broadsword that he had bought at Maidenpool certainly helped. He was no great swordsman, but could certainly hold his own, of that Quentyn was sure.

They sparred as Daemon watched, and Quentyn finally asked...

"So... you and the lady Mooton...?"

Aethan groaned in annoyance at that as he managed to parry another strike.

"We talked... once, maybe twice at most. Aye, she is pretty and she might have a good head but I don't think I can say more"

Quentyn let out a mirthful laugh as the fight ended.

"If you say so. Still, I hear some already say that you beat Hightower in a duel for her hand"

"Oh gods, Spare me the details Quentyn" Aethan told him. Quentyn had a massive amused grin at this.

"You need to calm down lad, you take life too seriously too often."

"Well Ser Quentyn" he noted that the lad now had a grin "we make a perfect team then, often you do not take life seriously enough."

They both laughed -as it had all been in jest- and continued training, there was little else

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Aug 13, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Aethan XXIV/Aegon VIII New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Aug 16, 2019

Add bookmark

#161

Author's Note: there will be a timeskip soon. Worry not, it will not be too long

Harrenhall was a dreary place. Impressive, sure, but also definitely not a place he would like to live in. And that was without counting on the curse. Normally he would not believe such things. But that was before being flung into this life, into this world.

Under such circumstances, Aethan took to reading on the history of the Riverlands. And lo and behold. If Westeros was Medieval and Early Modern Europe, the Riverlands were the Holy Roman Empire after the Reformation. Barely any semblance of centralized authority or even of actual authority by the higher lord of the land. Vassals that were equal -if not greater- in men and money than their liege, and so on and so forth.

And of course, everyone feared the city charters. The local lords feared losing control over the trading towns -Maidenpool being the best example, although the Current Lord Mooton did not seem to fear such- and the Kings, or Riverrun, fearing that it would empower their vassals even more...

Oh well, it would be a good place to entrench the royal authority anyway. But then again, why should he care?

The feast at Harrenhall on their last day in the keep was the greatest feast Aethan had ever seen. And it seemed that Lord Lothston, despite his humble origins, was a very rich man. If one of the feasts at Maidenpool was decadent, this one was twice as lavish and extravagant with wildly elaborate dishes and cakes and many odd kinds of food. And for the second time in less than a month, Aethan could not help but wonder if King Aegon IV was secretly a follower of Slaanesh, trying to bring upon its birth on this universe... Still, he would be very far from it, even if...

"Thank God the Warp is not a thing in this world... is it?" He muttered to himself as he took a sip of his wine. It was Tyroshi, and fairly expensive. There were also large amounts of Arbor Gold around. Not to mention the massive amounts of food around here

The following morning, or rather, the following noon, they were preparing to ride towards Riverrun. In the process, Aethan was summoned by the King. And hoping that he had no reward nor punishment for some imagined slight in mind, Aethan made his way to the King's chambers.

"Your Grace? You called for me?" Aethan asked as he entered. Noticing something odd. The King was more dressed than he expected, with him was none other than Princess Daena.

"Ah, you have arrived. Well, you ought to know one thing Lad..." The King began, this got him confused as the fat man continued. "My gooddaughter" and there was some spite at that word "is apparently spreading rumors in Dragonstone... Having said that, I see you also got Daeron to actually hunt something! Lad, is it not a tradition to make a Velaryon Master of Ships?"

"Uh... " Aethan was stunned for a second or two, and he could see Daena, almost giggling at his reaction. "I mean, Your Grace, while many of my house have served the realm in such a position, I am not qualified for that, not yet at least."

The King thought for a moment, and looked at him, then he spoke.

"I see... Well, I will have you observe some of the meetings, learn something from Lord Redwyne, when he quits, or dies, you will take his place..." The offer had that tone... It was an offer that could not be refused.

"Yes, Your Grace." Was all that Aethan could say.

Aegon eyed the lad oddly as he left, thinking.

Yes, he would do. He seemed smart enough. Alas, he did not want the position. He seemed to be trying to not be noticed. Which was a very queer thing. But he was smart enough and Gods, he had managed to get Daeron to hunt something!

"So...?" Daena broke him out of his thoughts. Aegon laughed and shrugged.

"Eh, You know better than anyone else what I'd like to do to her for this... But, I suppose that I will not. Let her stew, I am sure that very few will believe such rumors. Especially after seeing him and my not so useless son Daeron get along."

She shrugged and left without more words. Aegon could not help but feel a shiver down his back.

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Aug 16, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Quentyn II/Roland I New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Aug 19, 2019

Add bookmark

#165

Quentyn had to admit that the lad was growing better with the sword.

He insisted on using that broadsword. Which coupled with his constant use of half-swording, meant that he was capable of exploiting the openings that most of his opponents would give him.

It was a fairly amusing matter to be fair. Knights usually tried to emulate the greatest heroes, and the greatest heroes carried swords of Valyrian Steel or some other magical metal. Of course, with such swords, half-swording was a sure way to lose your hand. Therefore, no one even tried... And then there was Aethan Velaryon, using that very technique to exert more force when disarming opponents, or to close the distance while keeping a closer control over the tip of his sword when he thrust at an exposed neck or joint.

All in all, even if he was not the greatest swordsman, he had the makings of a fairly good one.

Besides, sparring with him in the yard was, for Quentyn at least, more interesting than the feasts that the King held almost daily.

Almost, because in Riverrun the King had actually not thrown a feast every night as he had done in Duskendale, Maidenpool, and Harrenhall. Their stay there was also rather unremarkable, with the exception of Lord Tully being quite interested in Aethan... Surely the old man knew well enough about the King's favoring the lad and wanted in.

Which, of course, meant the amusing scene of the pretty but utterly timid daughter of Lord Tully being egged on by her father to approach the handsome but rather awkward heir to High Tide.

"Gods, if I were you, I'd be taking the chance lad" Quentyn stated. Aethan managed to not roll his eyes at the remark -that had cost him the previous match- but groaned.

"Good thing you're not me, Ser Quentyn" He replied. The lad fought in a rather efficient manner. He avoided the fancy movements that other knights seemed so fond of. If anything, his fighting style was more reminiscent of the older knights, the ones who rode to war with Daeron the Dragon. The lads his age were too often trying to impress one lady or another which lead to admittedly ridiculous maneuvers. spins and twirls that Quentyn knew well enough would be more deadly to the user than his opponent in a real fight.

For a few minutes more they continued, and for the first time, Quentyn "Fireball" Ball found himself with the tip of the broadsword to his throat.

"Lucky strike," he said, Aethan laughed a bit and shrugged as he sheathed his sword.

"Aye Quentyn, you've beaten me blue enough times to know that" There was some warmth in the lad's voice as he said that. Daemon, who watched nearby, cheered.

A large portion of the inhabitants of Raventree Hall had assembled to watch the sparring of various knights, and this specific fight had earned quite a bit of attention.

Roland Blackwood let out a sigh of annoyance. Matters between his house and the Brackens had been good, or as good as possible considering how stubborn both his family and the Brackens were. And then the King had to take his daughter for mistress.

Oh, he had plans. marry Melissa to the heir of Lord Tully, secure some measure of power in the Riverlands, and thus, neutralize the Brackens as a threat without spilling more blood. At least for a generation or two. And then the King had sent his plans deep into the Seven Hells.

Still, holding his little grandson, he could not bring himself to be angry, especially at Melissa.

Little Brynden gurgled happily in his grandfather's arms, red eyes shining and sparkling as he laughed as a babe of a month or two could. Winestain Mark for all to see.

Melissa seemed nervous but looked at him.

"Father, we must talk..." She seemed distraught, perhaps nervous was not the right word... Probably worried was more like it.

He could not help but wonder, and soon enough, he did not need to wonder what bothered his daughter.

He could not help but feel that perhaps he would have been better served by not knowing.

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Aug 19, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Aegon IX/Aethan XXV New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Aug 20, 2019

Add bookmark

#173

Aegon had noticed that Melissa seemed to avoid him to an extent. Oh she smiled her sweet smiles and was as pleasant as always, with her sweet demeanor and kind eyes. She did not really act differently, but she still seemed to avoid him when possible...

Of course, he could not bring himself to say much about it. He could not bring himself to confront her for this. Thus, he did one thing he had not done in a long time... head down to the training yard.

It was definitely a show. The King -and he knew he was getting fat- putting on some mail and picking up a sword. For a few moments, he thought that he was still a good swordsman... Then, as he fought the Hightower lad, he noticed one thing.

They were not giving it their all, they were letting him win.

After this happened thrice more, Aegon Targaryen looked around, then called for Ser Quentyn. He knew that the man had been helping the Velaryon lad teach Daemon... Yes, this would do nicely.

Once the knight presented himself and bowed, Aegon, with his booming voice, spoke.

"Ser Quentyn Ball, if you defeat me, I'll make you one of my Kingsguard, not at once of course, but in due time."

Fireball was younger, in his mid-twenties, if Aegon recalled correctly, and a formidable swordsman -perhaps the only one who could give his fastidious brother Aemon a challenge- So, Aegon figured, that this would be interesting to do. He bowed and picked up a sword. It was blunt, but Aegon did not care. He saw the younger man set into stance, he also saw the Velaryon lad nearby and smirked. This would be fun.

Ten minutes later, He had yielded to Ser Quentyn, and although he was pissed at the fact that he had lost the only real match he had, he was also in a good mood. Not only because it was clear that the younger knight had not quite pulled his punches, but also because it was a clean fight the likes of which he had not had in years.

Once that was dealt with, he headed off, returning to the keep proper as he thought of his next actions. He would not try to get too many girls into bed here, he would rather not take another mistress under the roof that had seen his Missy born and raised, but a couple of things did cross his mind.

Surely that would do nicely.

Aethan had watched the whole bout, and he had to admit that he thought that the King had lost his skills. Oh he was clearly rusty, even a novice like himself could see it, but if he found a clear motivation to do so, Aegon was not entirely beyond saving his still somewhat-regal looks...

Not that Aethan particularly cared. As much as he was benefitting from his reign, he was well aware that if he lived longer than in canon, he might find himself in a very unenviable position.

Pushing these thoughts aside, he walked over to Ser Quentyn, the man had married shortly before the King had him embark for Driftmark, and it was clear that he already was thinking about what would he do... Calmly, Aethan made his way and shrugged.

"If I were you, I'd wait until the offer is actually made before doing anything..." Aethan told him. He could vaguely recall that Fireball had sent his wife to the Silent Sisters in order to be ready. Awful because he had met the girl, a pretty maid from a minor house that owned a minor keep. So minor in fact, that they had not really been mentioned in canon. That being said, Aethan was fairly sure that the offer had been made much later... After the Dragonknight had died...

"Huh? What do you mean?" Quentyn asked with a raised eyebrow. Aethan shrugged and looked at him.

"Well, my Grandfather used to tell my father, and then me, that it was a very foolish thing to count that the day would remain sunny, even if there was not a single cloud in the sky... Funny, that saying saved both my father and myself a couple of times"

Quentyn eyed him oddly, then shrugged. Aethan sighed and looked at him.

"Just don't do anything rash friend, I'd hate to see this matter consume you."

With that he left, hoping that Lord Blackwood was not looking forward to using him to secure even more influence at court as Lord Tully had.

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Aug 20, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Aethan XXVI New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Aug 27, 2019

Add bookmark

#184

The travel back to King's Landing was quiet -or at least given the standards of the King- And Aethan could not help but chuckle as he thought of the situations that had befallen the King... Because of course, he could not stop himself from bedding as many comely girls as he could get his hands on.

As they approached King's Landing, he could not help but remember some of those incidents... For some reason the tagline "It's Zeus!" played on his mind... "All he needs now is to shapeshift" he chuckled as he told himself, almost in a whisper.

The return trip had also not taken them into any major keep -although they did stop in Stokeworth- Which, thankfully, reduced the King's capability to start leaving noble bastards. He rode along with little Daemon -who rode very well on ponies for his age- as they approached the Red Keep.

"So..." Daemon started "Alexandros had no heir?"

Aethan denied with his head.

"He died leaving his wife pregnant, but the generals of his army had not agreed on who should succeed him, and he had named no heir... No, the Hellenes did not follow the custom of having the eldest son be the default heir."

Daemon nodded as he listened. Soon enough they went into the keep itself. As Daemon returned with his mother, the King to his chambers, and Daeron to the libraries, Aethan simply walked around the gardens. Wondering...

At Raventree Hall he had received a letter from his father. He intended to avoid his marriage to be decided by the King's amusement -And Aethan could not help but agree-. He thought about that matter throughout the night, and also some during the following morning.

Those thoughts were pushed away as he approached the Small Council chambers. And he took the seat arranged for him by the side of the Master of Ships.

Lord Gilbert Redwyne was an old man, his hair was white and he had no beard. He sat on his chair and for the most part ignored Aethan, soon enough the rest of the council arrived. Tommard Butterwell, the Hand of the King, was a man that Aethan had spoken to once or twice. Intelligent, but utterly frustrated by his work.

The meeting was fairly inconsequential, the Master of Ships was annoying, and a bit too overt in pushing forward proposals that would benefit him personally or House Redwyne...

As much as Aethan did not look forward to taking his place, he had to admit that he would not mourn his passing or his abandonment of the seat -whichever came first-

The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Aemon the Dragonknight, was noticeably annoyed by the procedure, the Master of Coin was awfully quiet, and the Master of Whispers equally so. The King only appeared at the very end of the meeting, asked Lord Butterwell to fill him in, and dismissed them all.

Quite relieved when the King did not see the need to have words with him, Aethan departed, in the process being informed by a servant that a letter from his father had arrived...

He was not entirely sure if he should be happy about that, or dread what it could contain. After all, Murphy, the insane bastard, seemed to be fascinated by him, and it was but a matter of time before it manifested that fascination more... openly...

Author's Note: Next up, a timeskip... and yes, you will find the answer to one line of discussion

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Aug 27, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Corlys V/Maron II New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Aug 27, 2019

Add bookmark

#185

Author's note: I was rather hasty when announcing that a timeskip would be this chapter. The actual skip will come either in the next one or the one after that. Fear not, the answer, or at least a part of it, will be noticeable here.

The Corlys part also happens before the Aethan XXVI chapter, while the Maron part takes place a couple of months later

With a groan, the lord of the Tides looked at the two women in his solar. He had to admit that he had screwed things up when it came to this...

It had started with a letter. It seemed that the King was not quite capable of restraining his tongue around little Daemon, which of course, let to his son finding out that the King planned to have him marry Elaena... He had sent word of it back home, and Corlys had made the mistake of telling his wife about this.

Of course, both she and Baela were livid, because of course she told Baela.

Now, they did not quite hate Elaena, but it was clear that they wanted her out and away, preferably with her children...

Sighing in annoyance he waited for them to finish. Then he spoke.

"I have some letters to write" he told them simply, managing to contain the grimace that tried to form on his face as his mother glared daggers at him. They both left the solar, and he looked at the parchment...

Time, after all, was essential.

Maron Martell read the pieces of parchment over and over. His face going pale at the words.

Velaryon had sent word to the Rogares, he wanted to withdraw it all from their bank... His cousin also sent word that various other important individuals were either planning on doing so, or had already sent such letters.

For all purposes, it was a bank run. It was what he had expected to do, he would at first withdraw slowly, then publicly do one massive last withdrawal of funds that would cause a panic.

It was nothing personal. Daeron was not a bad judge of character, and he held the Velaryon lad in good esteem, his father was most likely not a bad man or a bad lord either. But that did not meant that he would not humble the family of the man that brought down Planky Town and allowed the Young Dragon to do what he did.

He cursed, the way Lord Velaryon did this indicated that he knew, or at least suspected of such a move. And of course, that must have been because of his sister. Was she going mad? What had happened?

The questions left his mind when he realized one thing...

He had barely started to withdraw funds from the damn Rogares.

Dorne would not be bankrupt of course, but things were definitely not looking good.

Last edited: Aug 27, 2019

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Aug 27, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Aethan XXVII/Aegon X New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Aug 27, 2019

Add bookmark

#197

Author's note: last one before the full skip. Also, this is after the Corlys part of the last chapter, but before the Maron part. Lastly, if you have any issue with my portrayal of Aegon, let me know and I'll explain later. Enjoy!

He had nearly panicked when little Daemon said those words.

"Will you be my uncle now?" he had asked. Turns out that the King is awful at not telling him stuff, such as the fact that he intended to get him married to Elaena Targaryen...

Still, in panic, and not sure about what to make of it, he told his father about it - surely he had something else in mind, right?

He was aware that some lords wished to see him married to their daughters. Lord Tully could only have been less subtle about it by outright telling him, and he knew that lords Darklyn, Rosby and for some reason, Yronwood - that had confused him greatly- were also willing to make such offers...

Undecided about the matter, Aethan walked through the keep, soon taking the letter and sitting down to read it.

It told of two important things. The first, was that his father -partly on Aethan's own advise- had sent word to Lys that he was to withdraw all the funds of House Velaryon from the bank. Aethan had warned him about the fact that the Martells were up to something, and that it was likely that it would be related to the Rogares... Now, as he read, Aethan had to admit that he had not expected his father to willingly sink the Rogares in order to keep his family afloat. But then again, it made sense. The Rogares were already in decline either way...

The Second thing in the letter was that his father had finalized an agreement with Lord Mooton. And he was due to marry the lady Ellyn in a fortnight.

Now, that, for Aethan, was a small relief, but it did not stop entirely what was already ongoing.

Mariah Martell had returned from Dragonstone -Apparently, little Baelor was now to become a page for Prince Aemon, and she insisted that she would be in King's Landing- and with her came the rumors. He knew that it was whispered across the keep, and for some reason, he found some of the girls from lesser noble families seemed oddly flirty towards him lately...

His peace, however, was interrupted by the Martell Princess. She was clearly angry, and Aethan looked around, hoping to find something to defend himself should it come to it...

Of course, after the news he received, he figured that the Prince of Dorne had also informed her about the matter.

"You!" She almost shrieked, two of her ladies in waiting, a Dayne and a Stokeworth, if Aethan's memory served him right, ran after her, both worried and afraid.

"Your Grace?" Aethan replied with a slight bow. She glared at him. Once her ladies in waiting arrived, she looked at them, then at him.

"You will pay for what you did" She told him. Then she turned around and left.

His peace disturbed, Aethan chose to head to the training yard.

Come that night, King Aegon had chosen to dine with Melissa. Once that was done, he went to his own solar, and had Aethan called. He had heard things, and although he was not entirely sure, he figured that it would be a good idea...

The lad came in, it was clear that he was tired, but otherwise in a fairly good mood. Aegon made him sit, and he sat, looking at him.

"Your Grace?" He asked. Aegon looked at him, and laughed.

"You really got under her skin lad" He told him with a large smile and a hearty laugh. The fact that the lad seemed confused for a moment only served to amuse him further.

"I... I suppose my Father did something that caused her great... discomfort." Aethan replied in an almost nonchalant manner. Aegon stopped laughing and looked at him.

"Well, I have been told that it happened in a different manner..." He let the end of the phrase hanging and instead moved to another topic. "Lad, I believe this calls for a reward. I know that you and your father decided to hurt the damn Martells right in their pockets."

The cat was thus out of the bag. Aethan looked at him, and the King smirked.

"I suppose it would be a good idea to have Houses Velaryon and Targaryen once more enter a marriage"

He saw the lad's eyes widen for a brief moment. He sighed and looked at him.

"Your Grace." He stated. "With all due respect, I am told by my father that Princess Elaena is still in mourning for my grandfather" Aegon did not know that it was what Lord Velaryon had told his son to say if it came to it... "And I believe that both, Princess Daena and Princess Rhaena are not a choice." Aegon nodded at that, then motioned for the lad to continue.

"Besides... I received word today that my father finalized an agreement with Lord Mooton, I am to marry his daughter, Ellyn, in a fortnight."

There was a moment of silence, and Aegon could see the lad tensing up. Amused, he laughed and laughed more.

Once he calmed down and watching the lad's confused face, Aegon spoke.

"Ah... I did notice there was a something between the two of you when we visited Maidenpool" Aegon was grinning widely. "Oh well, I'll think of another reward, something tells me that you and my dear cousin would not quite get along as a couple either way and gods preserve you from a marriage like mine lad" In that he was honest. Oh, he had wanted to do such a thing... But the couple of times he had spoken to Elaena since the death of the Oakenfist, and now this, made it clear enough.

Besides, it would be better that the man that Daemon would look up to, had a happier married life than his own.

He could see that he was confused, so Aegon dismissed him, and once he had left, continued with his wine. He had, after all, various other ideas.

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Aug 27, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Aethan (1) New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Aug 28, 2019

Add bookmark

#205

Author's Note: Yes, I am starting over the count of the chapters. Two reasons for it... One, due to the break and catch-up caused by the time-skip. And two... well, I did not want to reach a chapter 30 in Roman Numerals lol

Enjoy.

King's Landing, 178 A.C.

The morning was spent in a similar way to how Aethan had spent his mornings for the last two years and a bit. Similar, because Ellyn was often at Driftmark. It was not that they did not stand one another -if anything, he was at the very least quite enamored by the Mooton girl with the honeyed eyes- but because he did not trust the King's self-control enough to keep her at court. That being said, she was here, as was his father. And thus, the previous night had been most definitely a good one.

He awoke shortly after dawn. And once he had been dressed, he broke his fast with his family, and with Daemon. The lad was now officially his Squire, although he was already leagues ahead of pretty much all of the younger squires when it came to the sword, lance, and bow. If anything, he was made for this.

Lord Redwyne was still technically the Master of Ships. Aegon refused to dismiss him -in no small part to keep the Redwynes playing nice, as it was clear that he had plans that required them- but Aethan had essentially taken the position de facto. Lord Redwyne was old, and at last, his wits had been scattered by old age.

That specific morning, five months into the year, had been for the most part quiet. And then, at noon. News came.

The King would usually hold court, or call the Small Council in the Afternoon. But he was informed at noon, that Lord Tommard Butterwell had renounced to his position as Hand of the King.

It was a widely known secret that Lord Butterwell was frustrated. Aethan was still not entirely sure what had made him take the decision at last, but here they were. He was informed that the King would neither hold court nor call the Small Council that afternoon, instead, he requested that his court dined with him in the great hall... A dinner he had to attend.

Thus, he spent a part of the afternoon preparing. He arranged to meet with his family in the gardens. And once they were all together, Lord Velaryon, his wife, Aethan, and Ellyn all entered together.

As usual, it was one of those feasts where food and wine were served in absolutely staggering amounts. And it was clear enough that Ellyn was not too happy by this.

Then, came a man that Aethan had not seen in two years. Standing tall, with dark hair that reached to his shoulders and dark brown eyes that seemed hardened, in came Jon Hightower.

Aethan then pieced things together. Lord Lothston had not come to court, so Jeyne Lothston had not gotten her chance to become the King's Mistress. Besides, the Bracken girl had lasted longer than expected.

He pitied Bethany, she was nice enough as a person, and it was clear that her coming to court had been a move by her father. Since the King would not return to Barba, he would take Bethany... When she was caught with Ser Terrence Toyne, Aethan decided that Lord Bracken very much deserved the punishment, even more so than she did.

Forcing his mind away from such thoughts, Aethan noticed that Lord Jon was not alone. Behind him stood three figures, all of them female. Soon he presented them.

First was Serenei of Lys, of course she was expected, and as much as Aethan had hoped that the Butterfly effect would keep her away from court, it seemed that Murphy wanted her nearby.

What was truly surprising was the other two women. Both stood at nearly seven feet tall, their skin tanned, and both with bright golden eyes.

"Where the hell did that asshole get two Lengii?" Aethan wondered in a whisper, Ellyn looked at him with a raised eyebrow, and he shrugged.

He was fairly sure that he could hear Murphy laughing at him.

Aug 28, 2019

Add bookmark

#212

Author's Note: Would someone mind being a beta reader for this? Preferably someone whose first language is English

The Small council convened the following morning. As usual, Lord Redwyne, the titular Master of Ships, did not attend, and as usual, Aethan took his place. The two had come to an understanding during one of the man's more lucid moments, and the heir to Driftmark was effectively acting Master of Ships.

What really got Aethan to worry, was that the same Jon Hightower was seated in the chair of the Hand, with the badge of office on his clothes.

During the previous year, the hardships endured by Dorne had led to a re-arranging of the factions at court. The Royal and Princely Factions gave birth to three different factions with members from both. Jon Hightower represented the Warhawks, young lords, and knights who saw a weakened Dorne and clamored for an immediate war... At first, King Aegon had been willing to listen. However, Lord Velaryon had convinced him to listen to the second faction. While this second group was not opposed to striking at Dorne, they favored a strategy of isolation. To weaken Dorne even further, and then go to war -or even better, force them to attack first- Aethan had found himself in that camp.

A third faction, which was admittedly pretty much powerless, could be described as doves. They did not favor war and preferred a Status-Quo, or, to use the hardships to negotiate the annexation of Dorne. However, they stood to gain if something were to happen to the King...

The dynamics of this whole matter would be a mess, of that much he was sure.

To make the meeting even more ominous, the King was attending from the start. As it was, the Master of Laws was a dove, the Master of Whispers agreed with Aethan, and the Master of Coin was usually playing between the Warhawks and the moderates. This left the Grand Maester -who usually abstained in such matters- and Prince Aemon -who would vote as he was commanded to-

So, it became clear for the heir to High Tide what the purpose of this meeting was.

"Lord Corbray," started the King, "Can the realm afford to go to war against Dorne?"

The Master of Coin seemed nervous for a moment before he replied. "It can, Your Grace, but it would have to be a quick war, else it might bleed us dry not just in men, but also in gold."

The Master of Laws, Lord Ormund Wylde, was strange for a Stormlander. Strange in that he did not have the desire for war. That being said, he had expressed an interest in using the situation to strengthen the crown, regardless... That was what kept him in the Small Council. He spoke calmly, slowly.

"Your Grace, both you and I know that when it comes to Dorne, there is no such thing as a quick war. The damn Dornish will hide in the sands and strike at us, they will break every tradition just as they did with King Daeron... If we cannot afford a prolonged campaign, then we cannot afford one at all."

Hightower's face contorted in rage, yet he did not yell or scream at the Master of Laws. He spoke with a fury that was cold as ice instead.

"The Dornish have yet to fully recover from King Daeron's Conquest, efforts which are further hampered because most of their houses lost a great amount of Gold with the Rogares. If there is any point where we can uproot the damn bastards and take the place, is now."

The King turned to Aethan, who sighed as he looked at the other men in the room.

"Perhaps we might be able to turn the peasants of Dorne against their lords. But for that, we would need to know if the conditions are adequate... Lord Florent, is that the case?"

All eyes turned to the Master of Whispers. He remained still for a moment or two. Then he replied.

"Not yet. Some houses, like the Yronwoods and the Daynes have not suffered as much, and they are in a better position to keep their smallfolk fed. The fact that the Daynes depend on the Torrentine rather than the Greenblood is also to their favor... But I have reliable sources that claim that hunger and poverty, especially in the lands sworn to houses Uller, Vaith, Allyrion, Qorgyle, and Martell itself, may lead to revolts within the year. It has been a rather dry year after all, and while the Maesters claim that this summer will end soon, it has brought the Dornish quite a share of trouble as well."

The King thought on that. In three years he had grown from being quite fat, to outright obese. And there were days when Aethan wondered how was he still alive. Still, he apparently had an interest on invading Dorne so...

"Perhaps," Aethan started, "we could also use the recent events to sway some Dornish houses to our side? House Yronwood seems amiable to such advances, and with some coaxing, the houses of the Red Mountains and Torrentine could also come around. After all, if they already doubt the leadership of Prince Maron Martell, we might be able to give them that last push... In either case, it could be wise to aid dissenters in Dorne, as well as make offers of aid that Prince Maron will reject, but that will filter to the smallfolk. If we can avoid a revolt like that, then perhaps all we will have to do is uproot the houses that refuse to swear fealty. I am not saying it will be easy. Lord Wylde is correct in that there is no such thing as a short war when it comes to Dorne, but I do believe we can win it, and keep it..."

That satisfied the King. He dismissed the council and left the room.

Needing a drink, or perhaps something to hit, Aethan headed to the training yard.

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Aug 28, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Ellyn (1) New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Aug 29, 2019

Add bookmark

#221

Author's Note: So far, the image that is closest to how I imagine Ellyn looking like, would be this one... At least in regards to facial features.

Also, please, someone be my Beta Reader for this, send me a PM if you're interested

Ellyn Velaryon watched her husband and his squire on the training yard.

Oh, she was aware of all that was being whispered at court. Of the rumors about her husband. Some of them she paid no mind to. After all, she was well aware that Princess Mariah had started some of them... But then there were other rumors, ones that were not so easily traceable. Those were the ones that truly made her doubt.

She was shaken out of her thoughts when a servant ran straight to Aethan. He stopped, broadsword still in hand, and looked at him. She could see that there were words exchanged, but she could not hear them. Whatever it was, it caused him distress, as he immediately sheathed the sword and headed back in. A clearly confused Daemon following.

Her mind once more drifted to what had happened. She had to admit that he had intrigued her when King Aegon visited Maidenpool. However, she also had to admit that she was not particularly impressed during their wedding or afterward. Sure, the King had made sure that it was a lavish ceremony -because of course, he would- But it was clear that he was not too comfortable with it... And to be fair, neither was she.

For a second time, she was taken out of her thoughts, this time by a servant approaching her. He spoke, and she went into the Keep proper.

When she entered the small solar, she found her husband sitting on his desk, a small cup of wine nearby, some papers, and then there was his expression... He was clearly worried.

"Someone tried to kill Princess Mariah." He said. And Ellyn was not sure of what to reply to that.

The Princess of Dragonstone was not a person she would often be near to. Actually, the Dornishwoman had a queer hatred for all things Velaryon, and this extended to Ellyn. Therefore, she would not be quite sad if something were to happen to her... That being said...

"How?" Ellyn asked, looking at her husband's eyes, he met her gaze, and he seemed weary.

"Poison, the cupbearer seems to have been slipping small amounts of Widow's Blood in her wine... the bastard was found dead as well, so as far as we know..."

"We cannot find the culprit... Not that most in the Keep would not want to see her gone." Ellyn finished the sentence. Aethan nodded and sighed.

"It is only a matter of time before she settles on who to blame... I want you to go to Driftmark. I'd rather not have you caught up in this mess, and something tells me that she will claim that it was my doing."

That much she had figured. Still...

"No... I am supposed to stay for longer this time, and I am not returning before to Driftmark." Her honey-colored eyes met his gaze defiantly. And after some seconds, he took a deep breath and sighed.

"Well, I suppose I can't force you into a boat." She knew that technically, he could... She also knew that he would not do so. "But at the first sign of trouble, you and Daemon are to leave King's Landing. Again, I would rather not have you pay for her madness."

She knew that Aethan thought the woman mad. She was not entirely sure of that. At the very least, she figured that there was a method to her madness... Not that it seemed to bear her any fruit.

A part of her was confused about his trust. He trusted her, much more than she had expected when they were married. She could not help but wonder if it was love, or if it was just a desperate need to have someone to be so open to. A part of her, the same that could not help but think that there was some truth to some rumors, was sure that it was the latter.

"Ellyn..." That brought her out of her thoughts once more. "I... I am sorry. For sending you away so often, I mean."

She looked at him for a couple of seconds, surprised, and not entirely sure how to reply to that. She held his gaze and found sorrow. With a small sigh, she sat in front of him.

"Then you will not send me away again." She told him, her voice soft as silk, yet almost commanding.

He could not help but acquiesce

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Aug 29, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Aethan (3) New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Sep 1, 2019

Add bookmark

#248

As the day turned into night and the night turned into day once more, Aethan Velaryon could not shake off the thought that they were blundering their way to another war...

Perhaps sensing how stressed he was, perhaps being quite stressed herself, whichever had been the case, Ellyn insisted on spending the night together, and at least for a few hours, the two of them could simply stop thinking... Yet, come morning, he decided that he needed to meet with some people. More specifically, Lord Florent.

He broke his fast with his wife, then had a servant indicate Lord Florent to meet him at the gardens after noon.

The morning was spent with Daemon. He was already way above his peers in skill with the sword, so his training was being tended to by Ser Quentyn more often than not. Especially since Aethan was awful with the lance. However, the ball of energy insisted on training with the sword, and that was what was done during the morning. After eating something rather light around noon, Aethan headed to the gardens, thinking.

"Lord Aethan." Lord Myles Florent was tall, with a long face, pale eyes, the Florent ears, and a thin nose. He cut a rather elegant figure and was slender enough for some to think that sneaking around was not too far from the realm of possibility for him. He greeted the heir to High Tide and Aethan bowed in acknowledgment.

"Lord Florent," the younger lord replied, and Lord Florent nodded.

"Would I be correct if I assume that you suspect of the Lord Hand?" Of course, Myles Florent was also one of those men who usually went straight to the point. He had a lot of things to do, and little time to spare. It was fairly understandable -even though some lords, such as Jon Hightower, might take offense to it-

"Yes, I suspect that Lord Hightower was involved, at the very least. However, I would rather ask you to ensure that the King is properly protected... I have yet to meet Prince Maron, but I would not be entirely surprised if he decided to hold His Grace responsible and try something..."

Lord Florent thought on the matter for all of a minute, he had given the possibility some thought... "I can see why is that. I suppose you will get in contact with Lord Desmond..." meaning Desmond Redwyne, son and heir of the elderly Master of Ships, and who ruled as his regent in account of both, his permanence in the Red Keep and his senility...

"Yes, I suppose it would be adequate to inform him that the Redwyne Fleet might be needed. Although I do hope that it is not just yet."

That had been an understanding between the two. Lord Myles had become Master of Whisperers shortly after the Rogare Bank went bankrupt. And he had the unenviable task of preparing the ground for a war... he had built a network of spies in Dorne, as well as contacts with houses that were dissatisfied. They both agreed that the situation would be ripe for war at the end of the year. Not earlier, and not later.

"In that case, Lord Aethan, I shall return to my duties." And with that, the Lord of Brightwater Keep returned to the keep proper. Aethan bowed slightly and did the same a couple of minutes later. He had been almost waiting for guards to come for him. Still, it did not happen.

Not entirely sure whether to be relieved or even more worried, he figured that he would talk to his father. He was supposed to return the following morning to Driftmark after all.

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Sep 1, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Corlys (1)/Myles (1) New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Sep 5, 2019

Add bookmark

#251

Lord Velaryon saw his son enter the small room where they would be dining and could not help but smile slightly.

"Father," Aethan greeted him, Corlys nodded and soon they were both seated and the food brought.

The meal was eaten mostly in silence. Until Lord Velaryon spoke.

"I suppose that your wife intends to remain here." He told him. Pale blue eyes met purple, and once Aethan had nodded, Corlys continued. "Good, gods know you ought to keep her with you. It would not hurt that you listened to her every now and then."

Aethan nodded at his Father's words, and the Lord of High Tide dropped the matter. Instead he had another thing to speak of.

"I assume that you know about Princess Mariah... Mind telling your Father your thoughts on the matter?"

Corlys had to admit that he was proud of what his son had become. Of course, there were always things -like keeping his wife in Driftmark most of the time, even if he understood why he did so- that he disagreed on, but in general, his son seemed up to the tasks ahead of him... It was definitely a surprise, but just as welcome.

"I... I suspect of Lord Hightower, however, I am sure that many among the Warhawks could have been behind this. After all, if this leads to Prince Maron Martell trying to respond..."

Corlys nodded, it was some fairly solid reasoning. Still, there was something that for him, did not add up.

"I can see why that is the case. And I do think that it is the most likely way things happened." Corlys told his son once he had explained his reasoning. "But I wonder if we might be missing something... This could present the Princess with a chance to be rid of you."

He could see his son reacting. At first confused, then realization falling upon his face. "I... I had thought that she would seize this chance but... Father, are you suggesting that she might have been the one to poison herself?" His voice was almost hushed, After all, some could take such words as treason...

"I still believe that it is more likely that Hightower or one of his men did such a thing, but it never hurts to consider this possibility..."

The rest of the dinner was taken quietly.

The morning of Lord Myles Florent, Master of Whispers was spent convening with his own spies, as well as some of the men in the payroll of the -de facto- Master of Ships. The news they had were not encouraging.

So far they had not confirmed either of his suspicions. What he knew pointed to Lord Hightower, but the evidence was not yet enough to actually do anything -even less so now that he had ingratiated himself with the King- Oh he had a couple of other secrets, one that would definitely destroy him... But he was not entirely sure that the King, with everything as it was, would act decisively enough given this information.

As for the poisoning, he suspected Hightower, he also could see a couple of reasons why the Princess would think of faking such a thing. And the Grand Maester did report that the small amount of Widow's Blood that he kept was missing...

He ate a light meal at noon and then headed for the Small Council Chambers. The King wanted them to convene in the afternoon.

The King opened the meeting, and he soon saw that it would not be a good one.

The Prince of Dragonstone was there.

Now, Lord Florent had no specific issue with the man. But he was too oblivious to the faults of his wife.

Soon enough the meeting became very tense, as Prince Daeron let them know about his wife's suspicions... Of course, it was clear that he did not share her concerns. However it was clear that he did consider them. And of course, Princess Mariah accused the Velaron lordling. The latter was angry. Oh he seemed calm, as if the accusation had no effect on him. But it was clear that he was both, frustrated and angry.

The meeting dragged on until shortly before dusk, and in the end, nothing of note was decided. He had no evidence about the matter, Lord Hightower briefly stated that he would not be surprised if the Velaryon had done so, but failed to present any credible motive, Lord Aethan did present a clear motive for Hightower -or some sympathizer- to have done so, and at the end of the whole thing, no consensus had been reached.

At least, Myles thought, the King was convinced on increasing security. And he had also convinced him to be prepared to buy the services of the Sorrowful Men...

At least it had not been an entire waste of time.

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Sep 5, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Ellyn (2)/Melissa (1) New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Sep 6, 2019

Add bookmark

#252

Ellyn Velaryon watched once more. The last few days had been tense in the keep, and she knew well enough how it was affecting her husband.

As it was, he was once more with Daemon and with Ser Quentyn Ball. And even from the distance, she could see the anger in his strikes. However, her attention soon enough turned to another balcony. In it stood the King and his new mistress. Well, the favorite among them, stood by him.

It was perhaps fitting that the Lysene woman had been brought by Hightower, and at times she had to wonder if the story about her family was just a way to cover up the fact that she clearly had come here willingly... The woman was, to everyone but the King -and to a lesser extent Lord Hightower- cold as ice, and her deep purple eyes seemed to hold nothing but contempt for everyone at court.

At court, it was already whispered that Hightower had engaged in slavery, at the very least buying the two Lengii girls -and despite their height, they were actually younger than Ellyn- However, no one had any evidence to back the claim -at least not to her knowledge- thus she, as everyone else, remained quiet on the matter. Instead, most of the gossip at court seemed to focus on the Lysene woman.

It was, perhaps, a pause that she badly needed. The rumors about her soon overtook those about her husband. It was simply more interesting to speak of dark arts, of sorcery and strange tales, than about the supposed lovers of a young lordling. Still, the doubt kept eating at her.

The small group assembled in the courtyard slowly dispersed, and she was left wondering what to do next. Asking around would only cause the rumors to return with a vengeance -not that she had much people she would ask anyway- which left her with only one possible course of action...

Not entirely sure if it was a good idea, but unable to remain in the current situation, Ellyn Velaryon walked towards the libraries of the Red Keep, figuring that he would be there...

Raventree Hall was quiet this time of the year. And with the summer, it was common to find various ladies bathing in the Trident. One of them, a daughter of Lord Blackwood, was bathing with a little boy, he was pale, with red eyes and a winestain birthmark on his face. The lady was Melissa Blackwood, former lover of the King, the boy was Brynden Rivers, bastard son of said King.

Melissa was content here, unlike some of her cousins who were rather upset about the whole matter. They did not know how was the court, the intrigue and backstabbing were things that she did not particularly enjoy.

The King... She had not really loved him, as much as a part of herself tried to convince herself about it in those days, still, he truly cared for his children. It was perhaps the main redeeming quality he possessed... At some point, however, it had not been enough.

The King still took care to remain informed about Brynden. And he had sent a couple of gifts that he was to receive when he became older.

Still, Melissa could not feel entirely at ease, knowing that she would remain in his sight.

At least she had Brynden here, rather than having him remain at court.

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Sep 6, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Aethan (4) New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Sep 7, 2019

Add bookmark

#253

To say that Aethan Velaryon was worried was an understatement.

First of all, there were matters of the court. the King was favoring Hightower. And while Lord Florent had shared his thoughts on certain matters regarding the means by which Hightower had gained such favor, neither the Master of Whispers nor Aethan had enough evidence to look for a trial... There was something else, however. Serenei of Lys. Aethan knew even before she arrived that she was linked to some sort of sorcery and that her daughter showed an aptitude for it.

The latter part was worrying, as much as Aethan wanted to ignore all that magic crap, he was too aware that it was quite real. He could not afford to ignore it, not when Dragons were alive but fifty years earlier and when he knew that there were strong sorcerers active somewhere. The specific rumors about Serenei, involved dark rituals that allowed her to retain her youthful looks. And after all, she had been introduced as being in her late thirties but looked younger, if anything, she seemed to be in her late twenties. And while in his previous life he had met many a person with such a situation, Westeros being Westeros, he simply could not chalk it up to some genetic oddity.

The woman had a cold harsh look in her eyes, and when her purple eyes turned to him, Aethan could almost feel them drilling a hole in him as if she was trying to force her way in and look into his soul.

As he tried to distract himself with one of the countless old tomes that House Targaryen owned, he could not help but pray silently. Not to the Seven, nor the Old Gods of the Northmen, nor to Red R'hllor -which he especially despised- but to the one he prayed when he was truly alone, the one he had prayed to before coming to be Aethan Velaryon, and to whom he still held in the privacy of his rooms.

He managed to come to a halt just in time to hear footsteps approaching. Fearing the worst, he put the old book aside and stood, trying to steel himself so he would be ready to face his fate.

Thus, when he saw that it was actually Ellyn, he allowed himself to sigh in relief. At least until he saw the look on her face.

"We ought to talk, husband" The tone of her voice did as much to send a chill down his spine as the unsettling look of the Lysene sorceress did, if for very different reasons... He opened his mouth to say something, yet no words came out.

"Who was she?" Three words were enough to shock him out of being stunned and into freezing for a moment.

"What... What are you talking about?" He tried his best to seem calm, to keep a cool head and not seem to be in his state, a mix of being nervous, confused and surprised. Not that it worked too well.

"Who are you sleeping with, husband? Is it some noble maiden, or perhaps you just bed common wenches..."

Before she could continue into her tirade, Aethan groaned, then he could not help but laugh. His laughter lasted all of five seconds then he once more saw that she was dead serious...

"Of course, I should have thought that this would happen," He said, more to himself than to her before actually attempting to reply. "I've slept with no other woman, Ellyn, I know you do not trust me all that much. That is quite clear. But I do trust you, who I don't trust, is the King... at least when it comes to not doing something foolish." He did not say it outright, but he figured that she would get what he was trying to say.

Her frown remained, although it did soften a bit. "So you want me to believe that you were just sending me away to avoid an incident with His Grace?" She did not wait for him to reply before slapping him. They both stood there for a couple of seconds afterward.

Then he found her arms around him, and rather awkwardly he embraced her.

"I don't even know if I should... but for now I'll believe you." She finally said. At that, Aethan, at last, managed to relax slightly. After all, it could always be worse...

He could not help but wonder if he was tempting Murphy, or if Murphy had found some other unfortunate soul to bother for the time being.

Note: The scene kinda wrote itself heh, I was not expecting to have it up so soon... also, please comment lol. Your feedback is an important part of the dietary needs of muses

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Sep 7, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Maron (1)/Aemon New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Sep 7, 2019

Add bookmark

#262

The Prince of Dorne was not having a good year.

The Summer was harsh, which meant that they were growing little food along the Greenblood -the Torrentine, despite being a smaller river, was less affected by the situation- Normally, they would be able to supplement it with grain bought from Myr and the Pentoshi hinterland. However, the coffers of House Martell -and of much of Dorne- were too low for that.

This, of course, meant that the peasants were going hungry. And with hunger -but not starvation- there came the whispers among the smallfolk. The Orphans, being traders, resented any extra taxation. The rest of the smallfolk whispered of judgment. After all, when the Young Dragon came for Dorne, it had been a Lord who had broken truce, not the smallfolk. It had been a noble who had wronged the Gods, who had angered them.

Maron was watching the sea when the messenger arrived. The servant gave him the letter and left.

At the very least, the palace servants were well enough that they would not join any revolt. But a large rebellion seemed to loom ever closer.

It was a letter from his goodbrother. His sister had been poisoned -albeit she was on her way to recovery according to Prince Daeron- and they were looking for the culprit.

Maron read it a couple of times, then burnt the letter. He was painfully aware that Dorne could not afford a war, much less to be the aggressor this time around. He also knew that he would have no choice if his vassals heard about this...

Silently he prayed that none of them had a way to find out about this.

Prince Aemon Targaryen, known as the Dragonknight, had a relatively simple schedule.

He would wake before dawn. Eat with his sworn brothers, and then go to the yard. There he would see to the training of his grand-nephew Baelor, and he would assume guard duty in the afternoon. Until dusk, he would guard his brother -or on occasion, his sister, when his brother was particularly bothered by his presence- After which he would usually head back to the White Sword Tower. Baelor would help him out of his armor before returning to his parents, and he would go to sleep early.

Today was not a normal day. His brother insisted on keeping him as his guard for the morning. Thus he stood as Aegon ate. Seemingly without a care in the world.

Aemon had to admit that Baelor's decision to have little Daeron married to the Dornish Princess was one he still did not like. However, his place had always been to guard the King, not to judge him or his decisions. Still, something about it had always bothered him. And in the last couple of years, she had, at last, shown herself as she truly was.

He suppressed his thoughts when Aegon stood at last and had him follow through the gardens. They walked around. Aegon insisting on doing so despite being extremely overweight.

Nonetheless, he was in a fairly good mood. He had recently gotten the news that Naerys was with child.

Aemon said nothing. Instead, he followed like a white shadow. His sword at his hip and the visor of his helm lowered.

He heard movement, at first he dismissed it... Then he heard footsteps, he turned just in time to see a man with a crossbow. Acting on instinct, he tackled his brother who let out a yell, most likely annoyed. The bolt flew, and rather than hitting the considerable target that was his brother, it got him on a knee.

Limping, Aemon unsheathed his sword as the man dropped the crossbow and drew his own sword. Foolish, although being wounded...

His sword was Valyrian steel, and it cut through the sword, armor, and would-be killer with ease. The man -whom now Aemon could remember, he was Harbert Toyne- dead before hitting the ground.

He did not see the second man until he lobbed a dagger in another gap of his armor.

Feeling his strength failing, Aemon turned and stabbed the second man in the chest. Again, the other Toyne brother was dead before hitting the ground.

Aemon found himself sitting under one of the trees as his sight at last faded.

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Sep 7, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Myles (2)/Jon (1)/Robb (1) New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Sep 8, 2019

Add bookmark

#273

Lord Florent burnt the letter in the brazier of his private office, thinking about its contents.

Matters in Dorne were escalating swiftly. As a matter of fact, more quickly than he had foreseen. Already his informants whispered of peasants refusing to pay taxes, and of the Lords of the Mountain passes and Torrentine quietly going over plans for a war on their east.

He had thought that it would take at least five more months, but as it was, it would likely be two at most, before things were in a proper moment.

Then a servant ran to him with the news.

"M-My Lord" The servant was clearly afraid, and Lord Florent watched as he rose from his bow "A-An attempt was made on His Grace... he is unharmed but Prince Aemon..."

Lord Myles Florent, Master of Whispers, did not let the boy finish. Ordering him out, the Lord of Brightwater stood. He was well aware that the only raven that had left King's Landing towards Dorne was sent by the Prince of Dragonstone. Thus, he figured that it was less likely to have been the Dornish retribution... Hurrying to the gardens he saw the bodies.

"Damn Toynes" He uttered under his breath. Clearly the brothers of Ser Terrence laid dead, as did Prince Aemon the Dragonknight.

His headache intensified, and he gritted his teeth at the thought of what this could lead to.

Jon Hightower, Hand of the King, nearly spat his drink when he heard.

"His Grace is unharmed, although Prince Aemon was killed." The Darklyn lordling stated, and Jon Hightower looked at him, incredulous.

"How in the seven hells did those bumbling buffoons kill Aemon the fucking Dragonknight!" Jon almost roared, the Darklyn, taking a deep breath, spoke.

"One of them dropped a crossbow, and a bolt was embedded in his knee... Why did they not use the crossbow to kill His Grace instead, confuses me."

"Sounds like the Toynes... they were never the sharpest ones, even among those oafs that inhabit the Stormlands." Jon replied in an almost dismissive tone. However, that left him wondering... Obviously there would be someone blamed for this, after all, two men managed to come into the Red Keep with the intent to murder the King. An investigation of some sort would be needed, and of course, someone would be found to blame.

Perhaps he could rid the Small Council of a dove, and replace him with one of his own men...

Robb Reyne had been for all of six days in King's Landing when it happened. The news had caught him in the training yard, Lord Aethan, Daemon Waters, and Ser Quentyn Ball were with him. And he still was not quite a match for Ser Quentyn.

Their fight had been interrupted by a servant running over to Aethan. And he saw the Velaryon go pale -more so than his already pale Valyrian skin- for a moment.

"Ser Quentyn, I believe I will be back later. If I am not, could you please see that Daemon returns to his mother?"

Fireball nodded, clearly as confused as Robb was about the matter.

"Ser Robb, mind joining me? I'd appreciate having someone I trust nearby."

Still rather confused, Robb followed. And sure enough, they were headed for the gardens.

"Do you remember Ser Terrence Toyne?" Aethan asked him. Of course, Robb remembered the man. He was friendly enough, and a good swordsman as well. He had also heard about his death. An unfortunate matter, although he had to admit that going after Bethany Bracken of all people meant that he was foolish enough to not give a damn.

"His brothers decided to avenge him... According to Aldert here, they managed to fell Prince Aemon, somehow. But none of them survived to harm His Grace."

That made absolutely no sense, but once they reached the gardens, they found the scene. The King had left for his rooms, Prince Aemon's remains were being carried away carefully, and the corpses with blood-stained Toyne colors were still on the ground. A crossbow was also nearby.

"Sounds to me that those two were idiots," Robb could not help but say, "they had a Crossbow, and spent the bolt on Prince Aemon rather than their objective... Probably they were too busy to be thinking of a witty remark than on actually succeeding on this."

Aethan seemed deep in thought, then he nodded.

"Eh, If Ser Terrence is any indication of it, the sons of Ser Harbert Toyne were not quite smart to begin with... and bloodlust can make sure one is relieved of his wit."

Agreeing with that, Robb watched as the servants unceremoniously picked up the corpses.

"Hopefully, I can convince Prince Daeron to not send little Baelor to Dragonstone... gods know he's growing well, and I'd rather not have him influenced more by his mother."

That puzzled Robb, but he chose not to ask. Wondering why did his friend care so much... especially when some already whispered of change...

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Sep 8, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Daeron (1)/Aethan (5) New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Sep 14, 2019

Add bookmark

#291

Daeron Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone, was frustrated.

"I will not depart without him!" Mariah insisted. By "Him" she meant Baelor. Of course, Daeron had other plans.

Daeron knew that his father was enamored of his half-brother Daemon. He also knew that, despite being half-Dornish and black of hair, Baelor was also liked by the King -despite his name- After all, at the age of eight, it could well be said that his own son was the only boy of that age who could match little Daemon. So of course, hiding Baelor in Dragonstone was not the best idea. The court needed to see that even if Daeron himself would not be a warrior King, Baelor could well become one.

Besides, surely by that time, there would be a better target for the wrath of the Seven Kingdoms than Dorne.

Of course, this led to the situation that had him frustrated and with a headache.

"He is MY Son! I will not allow you to take him away from me!"

Daeron was frustrated at his wife's behavior. Oh, there had been months of relative quiet -and staying at Dragonstone always seemed to work in making her return to her senses, if for some time. However, she was letting it consume her, that fire that was hatred.

He was thankful that Baelor had spent most of his time with his own uncle Aemon than with his mother in the last few years. At least it managed to keep him from outright hating his uncle and his uncle's tutors.

"No" Daeron finally said. Months of frustration taking their toll on the gentle nature of the Prince of Dragonstone. He stood tall -taller than usual- and looked at his wife. He did not yell, he did not hit her nor did he try to force her into submission.

His next words were cold as ice -ironic, given that his house came from Fire-

"You will depart in the morning, and Baelor stays with me. I have made my decision." Mariah took a step back, startled.

With that, the Prince of Dragonstone departed his wife's chambers. Wondering who would take his son as Squire now.

Aethan calmly walked through the gardens as the sun began to set.

Today the King had not deemed to call a meeting of the Small Council. This did not mean that Aethan was not at work. As the day came to a close, he met once more with Lord Florent.

"Lord Aethan." He was greeted by the older lord. With a bow, he greeted him back and nodded.

"The Toynes had some aid in some elements of the City watch." Lord Florent said nonchalantly. Aethan looked at him, not surprised. Ser Terrence had been well-liked after all.

"And of course, the King had effectively left himself without more than the Kingsguard to keep him safe in the Red Keep proper... I suppose you would agree to create a small guard force for the Red Keep. With this current attempt, I doubt even Hightower could oppose the idea." Aethan stated. Lord Florent looked at him, deep in thought.

"Yes, and admittedly the Royal Coffers are still well enough to fund that and some more years of the King's lifestyle... Even the war that His Grace would like."

With a small nod, the younger lordling watched as the sun finally went under the horizon, hidden by the walls.

"Do you have a candidate for a Master of Laws? I think Lord Hightower will try to remove him from his post after this."

Lord Florent thought for a few moments. Then he spoke.

"I have a couple of men in mind."

With that, the two men said their goodbyes, and Aethan returned to the interior of the Keep, still with many things on his mind

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Sep 14, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Aegon (1)/Quentyn (1) New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Sep 15, 2019

Add bookmark

#298

Aegon Targaryen, King of the Seven Kingdoms, and a whole lot of other titles was frustrated.

His shape frustrated him. Damn that bad fall from his horse, and damn his not properly healed leg. He was frustrated because no longer he could seduce women -not without pointing out his power and titles- Not to mention the two Lengii girls... Oh, they went as willingly as possible given the circumstances -they could clearly understand some High Andal[1], while not speaking it- But in any other moment, they flinched away from him.

If anything, the only woman who went entirely willing to his bed lately, was Serenei...

Setting those thoughts aside for a moment, the King finished getting dressed. It was time to call upon those fools he called a council.

But first, he would eat. Gods did Serenei tire him out. At least that was still enjoyable.

In the private rooms where he ate, the servants had prepared it all. As usual, his meal was extravagant, and at least that was one other thing he still enjoyed.

After a few hours, and once that had been dealt with, the King told his servants to search for the men in his council, and have them gather in the council rooms.

In the training yard, the shadow cast upon the court by the murder of the Dragonknight could be felt, but less so than in other places along the Red Keep. And so, Ser Quentyn Ball kept sparring.

The bouts with various other knights were ongoing, and he was locked in a particularly good one with Ser Donnel Darklyn. He did not pay attention to the edge of the ring, And after some time, he had his sword to the Darklyn's throat. Only then he noted the man standing at the edge of the ring where he had been sparring.

"Your Grace" Quentyn bowed before the Prince of Dragonstone, and he could swear that the latter not just smiled, but gave what was perhaps the most sincere smile he had seen him give in some time.

"Ser Quentyn, I am aware that what I am about to ask is rather... irregular, but I was hoping to talk with you in a more private place..."

Raising an eyebrow at the Prince, Quentyn saw no reason to deny him. If worse came to worse, he would have a couple of things to say. He followed Prince Daeron as they walked back into the keep proper. Once they had settled on a rather secluded place, he heard the younger man speak.

"Ser Quentyn... I know that this is not the most orthodox manner of doing this but, would you take on my son Baelor as a Squire?"

Quentyn Ball watched, surprised. Noticing this, the Prince continued.

"Ser, I am aware that you are the one who has been teaching my half-brother when it comes to the sword, and I am sure that, when it comes to the rest of his education, Lord Aethan will gladly aid if necessary,"

"Your Grace..." Quentyn replied. "Have you asked him?"

Daeron denied with his head. "Appearances at court must be kept. Not only am I forced to keep distance due to my wife, I believe that the best way to approach such a matter should not include jeopardizing his position at court. Considering my Father's... temperament, I doubt it would be a good idea to approach him directly."

Quentyn was no fool. He was just as aware of those things -even if he got involved as little as possible. However, given the situation...

"Very well, Your Grace. Once you and your son have finished mourning for Prince Aemon, we can discuss how will this come to be."

Once the Prince had agreed to this, Quentyn Ball made his way back to the yard, sure that this would be a headache for him.

[1] When it comes to the language thing, I'm not just calling it "common tongue" for reasons that I might explain in the discussion.

Sep 16, 2019

Add bookmark

#303

Myles Florent waited. The Small Council was gathered on the chamber and only awaiting the King. And what some of its members were planning was as clear as the water of a small spring to the Master of Whispers.

Lord Wylde was essentially alone. He had no allies to help him secure his position, and it was clear that Lord Hightower had plans of his own.

One could argue that the Politics of the realm were dominated by the internal politics of two realms, the Reach and the Riverlands. The West was its own world, and its politics did not usually spill out from it, the North was, if not perfectly, fairly united under the Starks, as were the Stormlands under the Baratheons, and the Vale was fairly isolationist, an unspoken agreement among its lords existing, that they would -mostly- take a common side when it came to the rest of the realm.

This left the other two kingdoms. In the Reach, the Hightowers had always been seeking to take it all -even before King Aegon's conquest.- Now that it was the Tyrells that ruled, various other houses held themselves as the rightful overlords of the land. -Among them of course, his own house, House Florent. This meant that Houses Florent and Hightower would often find themselves at odds. During the Dance, House Florent chose to join House Tyrell in neutrality, and on many other occasions, they had sided with or against House Tarly as a way to oppose the Lords of Oldtown.

As for the Riverlands, rivalries as old as the Kingdoms themselves existed, and despite the fact that Lord Tully was their liege, House Tully did not truly have the power to hold the land without being contested.

And of course, the rivalries and conflicts between those ancient houses would often spill into court.

All things considered, Myles was not surprised that Hightower had taken to become a rival for the heir to High Tide. If houses Blackwood and Bracken could keep a feud for thousands of years, why would House Hightower stop hating House Velaryon all of a sudden after the Dance?

As things stood, Lord Hightower, as Hand of the King, was the only committed Warhawk at court. Both himself and Lord Aethan agreed that it needed to be kept that way. Lord Corbray played in the middle ground between them and the Moderates. Lord Wylde was a dove, and now they were short of a Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.

He thought of his candidates. The King seemed to insist on giving the Master of Laws some powers that usually were reserved for the Mayor of King's Landing. Especially when it came to rebuilding the City Watch. For that task, he was sure that Lord Tarly would gladly be rid of his younger brother. If the King found that he did not want more reachmen at court, surely Lord Swann -who was also a Moderate in these matters- would accept the position.

As he thought, the King finally entered the room, the Kingsguard with him remained outside. He spoke, his voice was low and angry.

"How did they get inside?" He asked. Before he could explode in anger, Myles replied.

"Your Grace, from what I have been able to gather, they had aid from within the City Watch."

The King looked at them all, then focused on Lord Wylde. His face was contorted in anger.

"Give that badge back." He growled. Lord Wylde, unable to say much in his defense, and noticing that no one would do so, bowed his head, took the small brooch in his hand, and slowly placed it on the table, sliding it over to the King. Soon enough he was out of the room.

Lord Florent was fairly sure that the King was rather restrained. After all, he did not order the man's death... At least not to their knowledge.

"Lord Hand, Lord Florent, Lord Velaryon. I want your recommendations for the post tomorrow at this time... dismissed." The King was visibly angry still. He noted that Velaryon bowed his head and left soon. Myles followed. For a moment he wondered if he should have stayed, but once the Grand Maester and Lord Corbray had departed, he managed to hear the King shout a "BEGONE I SAID!" followed by Lord Hightower leaving the room in haste.

So far, things were better than how he expected them to be by now.

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Sep 16, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Ellyn (3) New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Sep 17, 2019

Add bookmark

#316

Her days in the Red Keep were fairly monotonous. She would break fast with Aethan, and most of the day she would find herself with some of the ladies in waiting. She usually made an effort to remain as far from the King as possible in the Keep, and then she would spend most of her day either reading, talking with some of the ladies she had found herself befriending, or, occasionally -after being convinced into this by none other than Princess Daena- practicing with a bow...

Today had been so far, a rather normal day. And as usual, she was to have supper with Aethan. She calmly sat at the table and waited, thinking. She was still wondering. For the last month they had been spending the night together very often, and then there was her moon's blood or apparent lack of it... She was nervous but figuring that she would rather be completely sure before bringing up the topic.

The door took her out of her thoughts. Through the window, she could see that the sun was setting, and Aethan walked in. He seemed tired and worried. He gave her a smile, but it was weary.

"You are worried," She told him, her honeyed eyes locked onto his. He let out a sigh as he sat down facing her. After a few seconds, she saw that he nodded. Soon enough their food was brought by servants, and they started eating.

Now that she was actually paying attention, she saw him muttering something. Wondering what could it be, she began to eat.

"The King?" Ellyn asked as she looked at him. She saw her husband look up at her and sigh.

"Yes, he and most of the court" Aethan replied, his eyes not leaving hers as he did so. Ellyn thought for a moment. Surely she would find out the next morning. After all, if something big had happened, most of the ladies that she spent time with would be whispering of it in no time...

"We're short a Master of Laws now," Aethan told her in an almost nonchalant manner. She had noticed that it was the way he dealt with this... Figuring that she could turn the attention from that, she spoke.

"I was talking with Myrielle," This perked up Aethan's attention. At first, she had thought that he had been with her... Then, thinking more clearly, she figured that it was a way to keep his friend, Ser Quentyn, with reliable people. Besides, she had noticed some other things about him lately, and by now she was sure that he was not the kind of man to do that to a friend... She was Quentyn's wife after all. "It seems that Prince Daeron is planning to have his son squire for Ser Quentyn"

She saw him, a strange look on his face that seemed to have a mixture of interest, amusement, and a plan forming, all rolled up into one...

"Maybe I did not underestimate him after all..." She heard him say thoughtfully. They soon finished eating and stood. Rather than letting him leave, Ellyn took her husband by the arm.

"You will have time to think on it tomorrow," She told him calmly, sure that an amused smirk came to her face. She saw him thinking for a moment, then smiling at her warmly.

"Lead the way then, my dear."

Suffice to say, they did not quite fall asleep for several hours.

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Sep 17, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Aethan (6)/Baelor (1) New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Sep 21, 2019

Add bookmark

#319

Author's Note: Baelor (1) happens two weeks after the death of the Dragonknight, and a bit under two weeks after Aethan (6). Consider it a minor time skip.

In the afternoon, Aethan met with Lord Florent. He had some information to tell before the Small Council was called upon by the King.

"Lord Florent." Aethan greeted the older man with a bow. Lord Florent greeted him likewise as they made for the usual place in the gardens.

"I suppose that you have an idea of who does Lord Hightower intend to nominate as Master of Laws," Florent spoke afterward. Aethan nodded slightly as they reached the place, a small clearing where spying upon them was not quite possible. A would-be spy could either be hidden, but too far to hear a word, or close enough to hear, but also clearly visible for them...

"Hightower intends to get either Lord Oakheart, or Ser Denys Mallister to the position... I assume, Lord Florent, that you have a candidate of your own"

"Yes, I actually intend to nominate two men, either Ser Donnel Tarly or Lord Swann, if His Grace does not wish to see more Reachmen at court..."

"And Lord Swann would also placate the Stormlands if it becomes necessary."

"Exactly. Besides, from what I gather, Lord Hightower managed to annoy his Grace yesterday... Considering his mood as of late, perhaps we will soon have an opening to deal with him."

Aethan heard and thought. He had been working on something to fully get rid of him, hopefully, force him to take the black, or at the very least, forcing him away from court. Still, he lacked one key thing...

"Good, Let us hope that we are in a position to exploit this opening then Lord Florent."

Before either man could say more, they were called by a servant, the King was summoning the Small Council.

Baelor Targaryen, son of the Prince of Dragonstone, walked into the training yard.

Today it would be his first day squiring for Ser Quentyn Ball. Father had spoken to him at length. He told him that the knight was as good a sword as his late grand-uncle had been. And that what Ser Quentyn could not teach him, he was sure that a friend of his would gladly aid with... That, to be honest, scared him.

He had spent the last two weeks in mourning alongside his Father and Grandmother. It was proper and Prince Aemon, his Granduncle, well, Baelor truly mourned him. He missed the man. He was stern, but kind nonetheless.

And now, he was to be Squire for a knight that was so close to someone who loathed his mother...

In the yard, he saw the knight he was supposed to squire for. He was with a boy of his own age, silver hair and dark purple eyes. Close to them was the other man, he was tall and seemed happy, with short silver hair and a clean-shaven face. He wore the Velaryon colors.

Baelor approached slowly, waiting, wondering. Then Ser Quentyn -a much taller man, and clearly strong- saw him. He saw the man nod towards the other and walk over to him slowly.

"Ah, Prince Baelor!" He was confused, did these two men not loathe him? Father had tried to calm him, but all that Mother had said about them still lingered on his mind. And here was Ser Quentyn, despite his strong features he had a kind smile. "I had not expected you to come here today, but I suppose we can start." He saw the other boy come closer. He knew that he was Daemon Waters, his uncle, and he also knew that he squired for Velaryon...

"I know that Prince Aemon was a great man and a great knight. But I do not know how good of a teacher he was," Baelor heard Ser Quentyn say, "So I want you to spar with Daemon here. A short one to know where do you stand."

He saw Daeron take a wooden sword, and Baelor took another, waiting for the signal.

He could not help but think that perhaps his Father was right, and this would not be so bad.

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Sep 21, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Roland (1)/Quentyn (2) New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Sep 22, 2019

Add bookmark

#322

Lord Blackwood arrived at the gates of King's Landing. It was a city that he had hoped to steer clear of, but alas, here he was.

With him rode fifty retainers of House Blackwood, as well as his daughter Melissa and her son, little Brynden Waters. The three name-day old child watching in awe the massive walls and great ramparts.

Roland was initially not planning to bring them to King's Landing, his coming was purely a matter of court politics, that he knew well enough. But the King insisted on having his son in the wretched Keep, and Melissa insisted on being with her son regardless of her... discomfort when it came to His Grace.

A week and a half earlier, the Lord of Raventree Hall had received the first letter. He was to present himself to King's Landing as soon as it was possible to be invested as Master of Laws... It had been a gamble on the part of the King that he had not expected.

He knew who was in the council. Lord Hightower had championed Lord Mallister -if only to keep the Blackwood-Bracken feud to dominate the politics of the realm- although he knew that Lord Bracken was close to the lords of Oldtown. He also knew that the first choice of those who would oppose Hightower had been Lord Tarly's brother, Ser Donnel, and their second choice was Lord Swann... No, it was the King who ordered him to come in all haste and take a place at court.

So, Lord Blackwood, fifty retainers, his daughter, and her son, had hurried into the kind of barges that men of his station would use for such purposes and hurried down the trident until they reached the lands of Lord Lothston. From there they made way overland to the Gods' Eye and resumed their travel down the Blackwater.

"Are you sure about this?" He turned to his daughter. Melissa stood tall as she disembarked. She looked at him for a moment and nodded.

"Yes Father, I do not intend to allow Brynden to grow without a mother."

Sighing, Roland nodded, and soon enough, a group of guards -wearing red cloaks rather than gold- led them all towards the Red Keep.

Roland could not help but think that it would be a very long week.

Ser Quentyn watched in amusement how the two seemed enthralled by the story that Aethan was telling them.

Baelor had started rather nervous. In fact, he still seemed nervous around himself or the Velaryon lordling every now and then. But he was opening up. In no small part thanks to Daemon.

Of course, that allowed him to assess the boy more properly. He was bright, with a mind as quick as that of Prince Daeron, but with little of his disdain for the sword. If anything, Baelor had it in him to be as good as his famed great-uncle.

The story was short, and he figured that it would be a good tale to tell Prince Daeron as well... After all, if a leper with a few hundred men could rouse himself and lead them to defeat one of the greatest commanders of their time -for that is what Aethan himself said about this Saladin- Why should Prince Daeron remain barely touching any weapon save for that Dothraki bow?

Pushing those thoughts away, he noticed that they were done. And Baelor slowly but surely was opening himself to them. It would take time -he had no doubts that the boy's mother had spoken a lot about himself, and about Aethan- but so far, things seemed to be turning out well.

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Sep 22, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Chien (1)/Naerys (1) New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Sep 23, 2019

Add bookmark

#328

Sai Chien was very far from his homeland.

It had begun a decade earlier when he was but a boy on a trading vessel that covered the route from Yin to Faros... Ah, how he missed Yin, and the great cities of the Empire. That was civilization in a manner that not even the Qartheen or the Volantenes could match. A Mighty city built by the hands of men -with some aid of the gods of course- instead of a realm built by sorcery and warlocks. In a fateful trip, a storm blew them off course, and he found himself marooned on Faros. He had come into a second crew, this time covering routes further to the west -the captain, whose name he could not recall, was one of the very few who traveled directly between Faros and Volantis. And eventually, through a mix of bad luck, good luck and confusing deals with pirates, Sai Chien, born in Trader Town, deep in the lands of the Golden Empire, had found himself in this dirty town that the Andals called a city.

Oh, he respected the Andals, they were fierce warriors. If they were properly organized -which they were not- and were located closer to the Empire, they could be a great threat...

Alas, here he was, and here he would have to stay for the foreseeable future. His last voyage had been uneventful, up until it became clear that the captain was foolish enough to try and pass off captive Andals as captive men from the banks of the Rhoyne. Thankfully, the accusations had been laid entirely on the captain, so he was left with some coin, his name, and his passable Andal...

It was then that he was approached by a man. He was clearly in the employ of a much richer man, probably even a noble... The man spoke calmly.

"Sai Chien from Trader Town?" Chien felt fear, but soon enough that was replaced by confusion... the man continued. "It is hard to be unnoticed when you come from such distant lands... My employer wishes to meet you, perhaps, if you come to an agreement, you will be able to go home."

Home... the forests of central Yi-Ti, its canals, and great rivers... It had been so long. The man gave him a letter, it bore a seal in turquoise wax, and with a seahorse in it. Perhaps the one thing he would miss if he ever made his way back, was the Wine. His people did not drink much Grape Wine -and he himself missed greatly the Bia and the Snake Wine of his homeland, among many other things...

After a second or two, Chien took the letter and looked at the man. In a heavily accented Andal, he replied.

"Tell your employer that you know where to find me and that I will present myself when he asks for me." Perhaps he could still find a way home after all...

The Queen of the Seven Kingdoms was still mourning.

Of course, she did not show it in public. And to be fair, it was hard to know when she was mourning, as her clothing had always been plain. Thus, she knelt in the Sept before the statue of the Mother.

Once her prayers were finished, she made her way back to her own rooms.

She was greeted by her son, who gave her a weary smile.

"Mother, you should eat more." He told her, warmth and concern in his voice. Still, the Queen denied with her head. She slowly sat in one of the chairs and looked at him.

"Daeron, you know as well as I do that." She was interrupted by her son, somewhat annoyed but understanding.

"Yes Mother, that you put your trust in the Seven... Still, I am unsure if they truly enjoy your hunger." She looked at him and he just shrugged. With a small sigh, she nodded, acquiescing at last as she spoke. "Very well, I will endeavor to eat more, if not in a more grandiose manner."

Daeron smiled at her, a bit less weary now as he spoke again. "That is all I ask for, Mother," this left them alone and quiet. Although she had to admit that she enjoyed the silence anyway... Then she remembered something...

"I have heard that this Serenei is pregnant..." She said calmly. She held no true ill will towards her brother's mistresses. If anything, she was slightly thankful... After all, their presence meant that he would not visit her often. That being said, Serenei was a woman that unsettled her. Not only was she proud -too much for her station- but there was something about the woman, something dark...

"Yes, she is pregnant," Daeron confirmed. Naerys felt a chill down her spine and wondered what would come of it. There was something about it that was just not right, and she could not say what...

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Sep 23, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Naerys (2)/Aethan (7) New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Sep 26, 2019

Add bookmark

#337

Whenever Naerys Targaryen, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms found herself near Serenei, she felt something wrong about the woman...

The Lysene woman was beautiful in a way that Naerys herself never thought she was. She was proud, quietly claiming descent from one of the greater Dragonlord families, and she was smart... Much too smart to be of the age she claimed to be.

Whenever their eyes met, the Queen could feel a shiver down her spine. There was something unnatural on the blue eyes of the Lysene beauty, something dark lurking behind that pale blue.

And yet, as she always had, Naerys Targaryen. Queen of the Seven Kingdoms endured. She did so for her son and for her grandson.

Since Aemon's death, the Queen had been spending more and more time in the sept. Trying to rid herself of the dark thoughts that came to her mind. She thought of death. Her own and that of the monster that she called brother and husband. Still, she could not bring herself to do so, to take a life... And it always came to this, to her praying in the smaller sept within the Keep, praying to be forgiven, and praying for a swift end.

Her mind drifted once more to the woman. She normally held no animosity towards Aegon's mistresses. But Serenei was different, not just the darkness, not just the pride and vanity... The woman was dangerous.

She did not know how long had she spent in the sept. But by the time she left, the sun hung low in the sky already. Slowly she walked back towards her rooms.

The Small Council convened, and at the head sat the King. Aegon IV seemed to grow fatter every day, which left Aethan wondering if he would die earlier than what he was supposed to... Admittedly, a part of him hoped that he would. The last thing he needed now was a war that would be cut off by his death after all...

Long ago he had given up on remaining aloof of this mess, that had been when Daemon was made his squire. Now not only was Daemon squiring for him, but Baelor was also squiring for Ser Quentyn -which meant that he had now access to both, a future King and the most likely pretender... And most likely a huge target painted on his back.

Lord Blackwood was a pleasant enough man. Aethan was sure that he could end up on his side -especially since Lord Bracken was much closer to Hightower- That being said, he knew better than to count on that...

"Your Grace" Spoke Lord Florent. As was usual in the last few months, the topic was Dorne. "As it stands, I believe we can pacify Dorne with very little bloodshed. According to my sources, Lords Yronwood, Dayne and Fowler have been mustering forces, and they intend to use them in order to force the Prince of Dorne to back down regarding some extra taxes to be levied on them."

The matter was not too complex to be fair. The Lords of the Red Mountains had been the least affected by both, the harsh summer and the collapse of the Rogares. While the farmlands on the banks of the Greenblood suffered, it was just another summer for those in the Torrentine. And despite the thousands of years of raiding back and forth, in the end, profit moved the world. House Yronwood did not officially trade with the Marcher lords of the Stormlands... Unofficially, however, they bought a lot of grain from houses Selmy and Swann.

Prince Maron was clearly desperate. With a shortage of money to buy the food needed from Pentos or Myr, he found himself forced to rely on further taxes. The lords on the banks of the Greenblood approved of it -after all, their ancient rivals would be hurt by this- but needless to say, the Mountain lords saw it as a direct attack, a betrayal...

"Furthermore, there have been already some smallfolk uprisings on the Greenblood. So far they have been small and contained with relative ease, but there is no sign to indicate that they will stop soon unless things change drastically, and in favor of House Martell..."

The King eyed his Master of Whispers, then he spoke loudly.

"Then I say it is time to march! We ought to call the banners and take our revenge!" The King exclaimed. Lord Hightower nodded in approval.

"Your Grace," Aethan spoke. He had given much thought to the matter, and come to a conclusion... "If we strike now, these problems will be swept away. After all, just as King Daeron used the War to unite the Realm, the Martells could use our invasion to force measures they are currently having trouble with... That being said, we can take advantage of this. We can erode further the authority of House Martell by making offers. We offer to mediate the conflict, we offer to sell them food at reduced prices. They will either be so desperate as to accept and become dependant on us or reject our offers and go into a civil war. If the latter happens, we move in to restore order, maybe appoint one of the Rebel houses to a High Lordship over all of Dorne"

"Your Grace, Dorne is weak and ripe for the taking." Countered Hightower. "We will sweep across the land even faster than King Daeron did, and put an end to this once and for all."

"With all due respect Lord Hand, Even if we repeated the feats of King Daeron and Lord Oakenfist, we would be facing the same fanatical resistance he did. If we strike while they are preparing to tear each other apart, then those preparations will be used against us," replied Lord Blackwood. That had the added effect of surprising everyone. Still, Lord Blackwood had been a young man, and he had been in Dorne... "I believe that Lord Velaryon here has a point, if we wait until they are actually in a civil war, we can deal with this without shedding too much loyal blood in these damned dunes."

The King looked at them. They all knew that he yearned for glory and battle. They all knew as well that he would be unable to actually ride to battle and cover himself in such glory... He seemed deep in thought for a moment, and then he spoke at last.

"Lord Florent, you have six months, you will do anything you can to push them into this civil war. In six months I will call the banners regardless of your success... You are all dismissed."

Last edited: Sep 27, 2019

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Sep 26, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Mikken (1) New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Sep 27, 2019

Add bookmark

#347

Author's Note: Eh, damn it, have a micro-chapter... I regret nothing, blame the guys for this

Mikken had to admit that he never expected one of the nobles to involve themselves in matters at the kitchens. Then again, it was widely known among the servants of the Red Keep that Lord Aethan Velaryon was not an average lord.

The cooks watched in amusement as the lord seemed busy doing something with the minced meat. Normally this would not be served to lords, but he did something odd... He had cut a thin slice of cheese, cut a bun in two, and was now adding some sliced onions on the large pan. He had made the meat into small thick disks and had them on the pan as well...

"Uh... My Lord, I still do not understand what are you doing with that" asked Lomys, one of the senior cooks. Mikken saw the Velaryon shrug at that question.

"No need to worry, just a proof of concept." The lordling had replied, soon assembling the thing with the meat below the cheese and onions, above some lettuce, and all between the two half-buns... It was a strange thing indeed. The lordling took a bite, and Mikken could almost swear that he had heard him humming in delight.

"Alright, sorry for the interruption gentlemen, I shall stop being a bother." Mikken heard the lordling said as he poured himself some ale -of the mild[1] one-. With all that he headed out of the kitchens, leaving a set of bemused cooks.

"Mikken," One of the senior cooks, one Jon, spoke, "I hope you remember correctly what this was... I believe I can see how to work with that."

Mikken nodded at that, wondering what had they gotten into.

[1]Mild Ale will be used to refer to low-alcohol beer/ale

Last edited: Sep 30, 2019

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Sep 27, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Aegon (2)/Daeron (2) New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Oct 1, 2019

Add bookmark

#351

Author's note: Have some more food shenanigans

Aegon stared confusedly at the dish in front of him.

In it were a strange contraption. Meat made into a disk, below cheese and bacon, on top of lettuce, onions and all that nestled between the two halves of a bun. Of course, it was richly decorated with the bun having a curious color -most likely the result of adding one essence or another into the dough-. He looked at the servants, then asked.

"Who created this?" He had never seen such a thing before after all. The servants looked at one another and one finally spoke.

"I-It was Lord Aethan, Your Grace, although his version was much... much more plain in appearance. He did not name it, but for some reason, he muttered something about steaming a ham..."

That made no sense, as the meat was clearly grilled. However, it was as good a name as any, and it would not be the first time that a dish was given an entirely misleading name... Then he took a bite, and another one, and another one...

Once he was finished, he looked at the servants. He seemed deep in thought for a few moments.

"I want this served at feasts. Let the lords complain all they want about the kind of meat, it is good nonetheless."

"Your Grace, I assure you that we only used the meat of the highest quality for this." A servant retorted, and the King laughed.

"I am sure that was the case. Now go off and see that the cooks are informed."

As much as Daeron hated to admit it, his wife being away in Dragonstone was a refreshing change of pace for him. All of his children wound up remaining with him in the capital. -That was one more thing that he was thankful for, as it appeared that they were the only ones capable of bringing his mother out of her melancholic state in the last few weeks- Baelor was energetic, and was making progress on befriending his uncle... Of course, this would lead to mischief being done by the two of them. But he could not help but find it amusing. Then there was Aerys, who was already shaping up to be more like Daeron himself, and little Maekar, who seemed to be spending the most time with the Queen lately -no doubt because she was enamored of him as only a Grandmother would-

Today was one of such peaceful days. -or as peaceful as a day could be in the Red Keep anyway- He had taken the last few days to speak with both, Maesters and Nobles. As much as court seemed dominated by the Hawks and Moderates, he knew that he still had allies. Most of them were actually not in court, but he did not really need too many of them at court. After all, a day spent in court implied several weeks not spent in their holdings, strengthening their positions...

"I figured you would be here." Daeron turned to see his mother walking in. She looked thin, but her face seemed more content than she had been since Prince Aemon's death.

"Mother." Daeron greeted her. With a small sigh, she looked at him, he offered her a seat and she refused.

"Daeron... I believe I am pregnant"

That took the Prince of Dragonstone by surprise. She soon continued, and Daeron was worried. She was frail. And more so since Prince Aemon died.

Soon enough they left to have supper.

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Oct 1, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Aethan (9) New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Oct 6, 2019

Add bookmark

#361

The news of the Queen's pregnancy would have been a scandal -after all, it was widely known that she and Aegon did not just sleep in separate rooms, but pretty much on opposite sides of the Red Keep- were it not for the fact that the King had visited his wife shortly before Aemon's death, and King Aegon himself seemed to not care too much about the matter.

This left everyone else in the Keep to worry or whisper. Aethan, for his own part, was more worried than anything else.

On one hand, the Queen was a fairly frail woman. -And her habit of fasting more strictly and constantly than anyone else save for the overwhelming amount of fasting that Baelor had going on certainly did not help matters- On the other... to be fair, even though his knowledge of psychology had been barely a couple of things about personalities before arriving in Westeros -and it was not as if he could acquire such knowledge easily when it was not even known here- Aethan could see plainly that the things holding her together were her grandsons as well as little Daenerys.

Indeed, little Aerys, being only six, was already well ahead of most children of his age when it came to reading, and boy did he love books. It was clear that Queen Naerys was reminded quite a bit of Daeron. and Baelor and his antics managed to get to the Queen as well.

Then there was Daemon. Perhaps surprisingly for Aethan, the Queen bore no ill will towards the kid, and now that he had befriended the not-yet Breakspear, she seemed fond of her nephew. The antics of those two definitely kept her entertained... Not to mention just how many headaches did they manage to give to both himself and Ser Quentyn...

Aethan thus found himself headed to talk to the Prince of Dragonstone. He found the man in the gardens.

"Lord Aethan," the Prince greeted him. Aethan bowed slightly and approached.

"Prince Daeron," He greeted back. This was not quite a scheduled meeting, still, he had hoped to talk about this with the Prince, if only to gain some peace of mind.

"I assume that you have heard of my Mother's pregnancy, Lord Aethan." The Prince seemed tired. Of course, it would be foolish to assume that the headaches were only for himself and Ser Quentyn. Aethan nodded calmly.

"I hope that Her Grace has been eating well… With all due respect, piety can be an unwise choice in her current state." Prince Daeron seemed unfazed by the comment, although then again, surely he had been told worse things.

"Ah, yes. It was rather hard to convince her to ease down on her fasting, but we have managed." The prince replied. Aethan did not need to ask who the prince meant when he said ¨we¨: It was referring to himself and his son Baelor…

"I suppose, Lord Aethan," the prince continued before Aethan could reply, "that you would not mind if we spoke of some more… delicate matters."

"I…" Taken by surprise -and that was not quite an easy feat lately- Aethan looked at the Prince, nodding. "I would not mind. Would I be correct if I assume that you mean Your Father's intent to march on Dorne within the remainder of the year?"

"Yes, as you might imagine, if something were to happen to my father once his invasion of Dorne has begun, I would be on a… disastrous situation…"

"That, Your Grace, is an understatement. However, I do not suppose that you wish for me to either accelerate the succession nor conspire to foil the planning of this war… As you are aware, either of those options would be considered treason."

"Yes, yes, but I am not going to ask you either of those things… Lord Aethan, if I were to present a peaceful solution to the matter of Dorne to my Father, would you support it?"

Aethan thought about it. Daeron's solution in canon had been… too generous to Dorne. While some concessions could be made, the situation seemed perfect for it to be a much less outrageous deal.

"It would depend on your proposal, Your Grace. Perhaps if we could discuss it in a more private place…"

"Yes," Prince Daeron replied calmly, "That would be a good idea..:"

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Oct 6, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Ellyn (4) New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Oct 15, 2019

Add bookmark

#368

Author's Note: Sorry, this took a while to write. Have a short chapter with warm fuzzy feelings

The last few days had been boring. Aethan had been quite busy lately and she had to admit that she was prone to leave him to his own devices... Still, he had made a point of taking supper with her every evening, and she could not complain about it.

Once more the food was brought. A strange contraption of bread, meat, cheese, and various vegetables. She saw Aethan eye the servant, clearly surprised. Then the servant spoke.

"Milord, The head cook sends his regards, and these Steamed Hams."

Then she saw him, and for the first time since her latest trip, she saw Aethan laughing. Not just a small chuckle or a subdued laugh. It was a full hearty laugh. And one that she could not help but join into -if less loudly- Although she had absolutely no idea why did he found that funny. Once he had calmed down, he looked at her. A warm smile on his face that she did not get to see too often lately.

"I..." He suddenly seemed embarrassed. "I will explain later dear," He told her, then he started to eat. She fiddled a bit, then imitated the way he was holding the thing.

It was messy, the meat, while tender, was ground down instead of a fine cut, but gods was it good.

Once they had eaten, she stood up and made her way towards him. Despite the good moment and the laugh, he was worried and tired. That was clear to her. Before he could stand, she carefully placer her hands on his shoulders, standing behind him. She heard him humming and let him stand, not letting him leave.

"Uh... " He seemed at a loss for words. Still, she could not help but grin. Then again. She had news...

"Aethan... I... I am pregnant." She had thought a lot about how to break it to him. Still, this time had arrived and she had found herself with no other words.

He looked at her, eyes wide and trying not to gape. He seemed frozen for a moment. Then he did the one thing she had not expected him to do.

She barely had time to blink before he took her in her arms, lifting her slightly with a smile on his face.

"Aethan!" She exclaimed happily, almost laughing as he set her on her feet. He kissed her cheek and then held her hands, he smiled, and she noted that he actually did not know what to say.

"Ellyn" his voice was warm, but she saw the worry in his eyes once more. "Please tell me you will take care."

That surprised her. Of course, she would, but she had not expected him to say that. With a smile, she leaned closer to him and replied, "I will" that seemed to satisfy him, and he took her in his arms again. She took a deep breath and looked at him.

"There is something wrong." She stated, that much was clear. With a small sigh he replied.

"Dear, this is the Royal Court, if there was nothing wrong for a day, then it would be because the world just ended the previous night."

Oct 17, 2019

Add bookmark

#372

She did not know if it was due to the child, or something else, yet she knew that whatever was wrong with Serenei was growing. Oh the Lysene was as beautiful as ever, but that darkness that Naerys was sure surrounded her kept growing. A part of her told her that Serenei was a threat, and not just in a political sense, but in a more physical sense...

She had spent that afternoon praying. However, a treacherous part of her mind told her that it would not be enough, that she needed more... Then she found herself approaching a strange man. He was always accompanied by one of the household guards of the Velaryon lordling, but it was clear that he was not an Andal, nor was he of the North, or of the Free Cities for that matter. His clothes were strange, and his facial features were strange as well. He kept his hair tied up and a thin long mustache.

That same treacherous part of her mind told her that, maybe, just maybe, he would know a thing or two. And so she approached him.

For all that her clothing was rather simple, she carried herself with a dignity and grace that only a queen would posess, and it showed, as the strange man bowed low -in a strange manner- before her.

"I am afraid that we have not been introduced." She stated calmly. The guard looked at her, then at the man, and took a couple of steps back.

"Your Highness," The man started, his accent only confirmed his suspicions. "My name is Sai Chien, from trader Town, it is an honor to meet you." His accent and mannerisms were foreign, and the name and place he gave explained a lot. He was from Yi-Ti... Considering just how strange this was, she nodded.

"I would like to know then, if it would be possible for you to help me in some matters."

She nodded at the Velaryon guard and made him follow them.

The man was not an expert in what had her worried, but seemed to know just enough to be of help. He told her what could he brew for her. Apparently he had been the physician for various merchant ships, and knew his way around herbs and some incantations. He offered his services, at least for the duration of her pregnancy, and in matters related to ensuring that no harm came to her or to the child.

After a couple of hours, she found herself more at ease.

Daeron found himself staring at the parchment.

He was thankful that he had left orders to the men in Dragonstone to ensure that all letters sent by his wife passed through him first. The last one would have likely sparked a war... Still, that did not make it any easier for him to write this letter.

His talk with Aethan Velaryon had been... enlightening. Daeron had to admit that he was still learning to recognize talent, or to delegate in matters he was not quite qualified for. And it seemed that the Velaryon had gathered around himself a collection of very competent people.

"Your Grace," He had said, "I'll be honest, maybe brutally so... Bringing Dorne into the realm peacefully is a good idea, and I admit that, this being a peaceful matter, the Crown will have to concede some things... But what you're proposing? Not only you want them to keep their titles and have more autonomy in the matters of taxes and levies, you plan to add to that a Targaryen Marriage? With all due respect, Your Grace, that plan is so insane that it's not even funny."

Daeron looked at the quill and ink, then at the parchment. Then finally started to write.

The letter was fairly short, and it did not really warn Prince Maron about his father's plans, but it did contain the basic inklings of an offer.

Gone was the idea of the marriage. Gone as well was a large portion of the autonomy in taxes and especially levies. The right to issue coin was kept, but modified so that they would not mint gold coins, only silver and copper. Also kept was the right to their local titles. It was an offer... He knew that he needed to gain the approval of the Moderates for this to have a chance of working. Hopefully, it had been toned down enough.

He did not seal the letter yet. All too aware that he might need to write a new one... But surely that could wait. First? he needed to sleep.

Last edited: Oct 17, 2019

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Oct 17, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Myles (4)/Roland (2) New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Oct 22, 2019

Add bookmark

#383

Note: This takes place a month after Queen Naerys (2) and Ellyn (4)

It was a tense meeting in the chamber.

It was no longer being held in the Small Council Chamber, the King was finding it too tiring to make the rather long walk between the royal chambers and the Small Council chambers, so one of the smaller private dining halls had been repurposed for this. The King, growing fatter by the day, sat. And so did the members of the council.

Myles Florent had spoken with the Master of Ships and the Prince of Dragonstone, apparently the latter was proposing a way to permanently solve the Dornish matter without the need for yet another costly war. He himself was all for it -after all, it made his work easier to not have to worry about keeping contact with his spies in a discreet enough manner to fool guards and armies that were actually seeking to root them out as opposed to merely keeping an eye open- And it was a fairly sensible offer. Although he personally would have pushed harder, he knew well enough that in such matters there needed to be a balanced offer.

Thus now the Prince of Dragonstone stood, reading his plan to the room.

He saw the council. The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard refused to comment. Although, Ser Addam Flowers -who had been second only to Prince Aemon- was less neutral than the late Dragonknight, he was not too willing to show too much initiative in these matters. Neither did the Grand Maester. This left the others... Himself and Lord Aethan made two votes. Lord Corbray could be swayed easily enough -just impress upon him how much harder the war would make his already hard job-. With three votes, the Grand Maester could be swayed... No, what worried him was Lord Blackwood.

The man, tall and normally gentle, had been just knighted, and thus he was part of Daeron's second force, the one that entered Dorne after Lord Tyrell was assasinated. This meant that he could lean either way, depending on how much of the horrors of war he had seen, and how many friends and relatives had he lost...

This was definitely not a situation he liked, but he was a Florent, and the fox was not in their sigil for nothing. All he had to do, was to find a way to spin this in a way that would favor his house, one way or another.

Roland Blackwood listened carefully to the Prince's words.

The Prince of Dragonstone was proposing that an offer was made to Dorne. It was basically turning them into vassals of the Crown, however there would be no official bending of the knee. Oh there would be oaths exchanged, it was implied in the way it was written that they were effectively vassals, but in order to have both the Crown and the Dornish save some face out of this, they would retain their princely title.

Roland did not quite care about the sands of Dorne, he had been there and had no wish to return. He had no wish to send his son there either to fight in yet another war, but honor demanded that some form of reparation be exacted from the Dornish...

It was then that he heard the King.

"And what about blood?"

Another Dornish War was not something he looked forward to, but it was not a matter that he had expected to have a say on either way. Yet here he was.

"Your Grace, what do you mean?" He was admittedly surprised that the young Velaryon was supporting -even if not too enthusiastically- the Prince.

"I mean" The King spoke, "The blood of the good knights that was spilled upon their accursed soil, they ought to pay for this..."

"Your Grace, if I may" The Hand of the King spoke, "The only way such a thing could be repaid without a war, would be if we were to demand Blood Gold... I am aware that it is a fairly unorthodox solution. If I'm being honest, I'd rather have them pay in their own blood."

"On the other hand," It was again Velaryon, "You would be realizing what neither Aegon the Conqueror nor your cousin King Daeron achieved and not only that, but this offer presents the basis of an addition of Dorne to the realm that will have a much smaller risk of being reversed after the main Dornish armies are broken. Is such a thing not a better way to honor the men that fought and died there? is that not a better way to build your own legacy?"

Ah, he was appealing to the King's ambition and ego.

The King thought on the matter, he looked at this son, then at the council. Roland thought about speaking, but the King got ahead of him.

"Add a demand of Gold to that letter, then send it." He stated. Roland thought, and figured that the most likely outcome was that the Dornish would refuse with that extra demand.

"As for the preparations of the War..." He continued. "I will give you three more months than the original deadline. At least to ensure a proper reply from the Martells... You are all dismissed." The King spoke, and the assembled lords bowed and made their way out -as did the Prince- He could see that the Prince of Dragonstone was distressed, while both Lord Aethan and Lord Florent seemed almost apathetic, or at least as if they had not been upset too greatly by this... Surely they were already thinking of something.

With this done, he for his own part headed to see his daughter and grandson. He had to admit that he was thankful that the King's mobility was so restricted as of late. After all, it was better that little Brynden retained his distance to the man.

Last edited: Oct 22, 2019

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Oct 22, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Ellyn (5)/Aethan (10) New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Oct 24, 2019

Add bookmark

#392

She had been dining with her husband when a servant ran in, he was clearly scared.

"L-Lord Aethan!" the servant exclaimed, a young scrawny boy who she remembered seeing once or twice, a servant on her husband's payroll. She saw her husband nod and nodding to another servant, who immediately brought some watered wine for the boy. he downed it in a large gulp and then spoke.

"H-His Grace... His Grace is abed with a grave fever."

Ellyn could see Aethan look at the servant, dumbfounded for a moment before finally speaking. He seemed somewhere between nervous and extremely worried...

"I see... send for Chien then and tell him to meet me here."

The servant nodded and hurried off, leaving the two alone once more in the small dining hall.

To say that Aethan was worried was an understatement.

This was not supposed to happen, not so soon. Oh sure, if the King died now, it would solve a very big issue... It would also leave him in a very bad situation, with all and the eventual new Queen being firmly against him and at court.

He knew that the King's health was deteriorating, he also knew that the King would survive worse than this... But now? There was something wrong about this. He felt a cold on his spine, a shudder as he thought of what could cause it.

He saw his wife, and this time she seemed worried enough. Apparently the situation had just sunk in, and Aethan could not blame her.

"We will be fine Ellyn" He told her, she seemed a bit startled -and that was quite a reversal from the natural order-. She looked at him for a few seconds before speaking.

"You do not suspect that it was...?" Her large honeyed eyes could not hide the worry this time, and he saw her hands settle above her stomach as if in a protective pose. He took a deep breath.

"No... I fear that there might be something else at play here... Something darker." He spoke, his voice seemingly calm. He was however thinking. A hundred and more escape plans running through his head, each of them scrapped as it became clear that there would be no such thing as an escape.

It was then that Chien arrived. Aethan had a seat brought for him and made him sit. The Yi-Tish was somewhat confused, but did so nonetheless.

"Chien... Has her Grace spoken about any concerns regarding the Lady Serenei?"

He could see that the question startled Ellyn, he could also see Chien seemingly confused for a moment before speaking.

"Yes... she worries that the Lysene is involved in the dark mysteries. And while I cannot confirm such a thing, I believe that she might be correct... However, I am not used to the mysteries of the Valyrians, and she was sure that the target of any harm would be her son, or her still unborn child. I know not if this is her doing, but I could try to save the Wang[1]..."

"Do so" Aethan told him. "Do whatever you can Chien." He was, admittedly, not entirely sure of how good of an idea that was. Still, he knew that for the foreseeable future he depended on the good graces of the King, and despite his decent relation with the Prince of Dragonstone, that was not an optimal situation...

"And, if possible, do keep an eye on Serenei. I hope to be wrong, I hope that we all are, but we cannot afford to assume that we are wrong in this matter."

Aehtan saw Chien nod and make his way out of the room. Only then he realized that it would be a long night.

Ellyn's face said enough. He had some explaining to do.

[1] Meaning "King" in Chinese, imagine that it stands in for whatever word is the equivalent in Yi-Tish

Last edited: Oct 24, 2019

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Oct 24, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Aegon (3) New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Nov 3, 2019

Add bookmark

#403

Have a short one

He felt his breathing become more labored, he could not move from the bed and he could barely eat. And of course, his leg, his damn leg that had not healed properly, still hurting. But Aegon, Fourth of His Name, was a fighter -or at least, he was sure he was one- and the gods knew he was not going to just go peacefully with the Stranger. He still feared that he was not long for this earth, yet he kept on struggling.

That morning, he felt his breath come easier to him, and so he called for his heir. He also called for his grandson and for Daemon. And of course, for Ser Quentyn Ball and a couple of other men. Among them the Velaryon lordling. He needed witnesses for this, in case that the dornish bitch he called gooddaughter managed to get Daeron to say that nothing had happened... Of course, Daeron seemed to have at last grown a spine. So perhaps that would not be an issue. But one could never be too cautious when it came to those damn Dornish.

Once they were all assembled, he looked at them.

"You there," He said, his voice was somewhat weak, but still commanding, "take note of what I will say. Aegon, Fourth of His Name, and put the titles there, proclaim today... what day is it? yes, today, that all of my children born from highborn women, whether Westerosi or not, are to be considered as legitimate... Good, did you put the signing part? Then give me that damn thing!"

The man gave him the parchment, he signed, and then he signed a copy someone else had also been writing. With that done, he looked at the assembled group.

"Now Out! All of you save for my sons, my grandson, Velaryon and Ser Quentyn there."

He could see that the latter two were somewhat confused. But they stayed in the room nonetheless.

"Good... Ser Quentyn, in the drawer there is a sword, bring it."

It was then that he saw it. Upon his heir and the other two adults in the room, what was going on seemed to have just dawned. If only they truly knew. With a small chuckle and a fit of coughing, the King smirked as Ser Quentyn brought Blackfyre, within its scabbard, to them.

"Ser Quentyn..." He coughed before he could continue, he could feel his breathing more labored once more. Perhaps he would agree to let Velaryon's Yi-Tish pet to see him after this. So far he had not done so, but perhaps the man knew how to deal with this, now that the Grand Maester had admitted failure. "if I die... You will keep the sword, and give it to Daemon once he is knighted..." He coughed again, he could almost feel as if things were about to be a lot worse. "And Daemon will decide if he will keep the sword for his children, or for the children of his nephew." He barely managed to finish that phrase, he felt another coughing fit coming, and he saw the Velaryon calling for help.

The last thing that Aegon, Fourth of his Name, King of the Andals and a host of other titles, ever saw, was the Yi-Tish coming into the room.

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Nov 3, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Ellyn (6)/Myles (5)/Roland (3) New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Nov 14, 2019

Add bookmark

#411

Note: I tried to pick it up right after the King's death, but that just did not come out in a satisfactory manner.

The Great Sept of Baelor was truly an impressive building. The massive sept with the crystal dome was capable of housing most of the royal court, and today, it was filled.

Beneath the great statue of the Stranger laid Aegon, Fourth of his name. His lifeless body was definitely bloated, and soon enough they all had paid their respects. She could not help but notice that her husband seemed rather uncomfortable, although surely it was due to the recent events.

She was aware that both, the Grand Maester and her husband's Yi-Tish retainer had examined the body and the room. Neither found any kind of poison. And to be fair, she was fairly sure that with the death of the Toyne brothers, there were few who actually wanted him dead... As she walked with her husband out of the Great Sept, she watched him.

"Is there something wrong dear?" She heard him asking. With a small smile, she sighed, leaning closer to him before speaking. "Other than the fact that we now have a new King?"

He could not help but chuckle slightly and shrug. "Eh, Daeron will be a good King... I'll see to it." With those words they returned to the Red Keep, she could not help but wonder what was going through his mind that he said such a thing...

Once they had returned, and once she was in her rooms, she could not help but look at her own body, at the now noticeable bulge that denoted that she was indeed pregnant... She knew that the now Queen Dowager was pregnant as well and that the Lysene woman was pregnant as well...

Once the ceremony of the funeral was done -for King Aegon would be seen by all for three days, and then the Silent Sisters would continue their work- He met with Velaryon in the gardens. He had to admit that he hated to move in such a manner just now but... In the end, as much as it was an action that lacked the decorum that such things should have, it was the better choice... This should not wait, not with what they now knew...

"Lord Florent" He heard Velaryon greet him. "I assume that you want to talk to me about what Chien has uncovered in regards to the Lengii..."

"Yes, I suppose that you are informed, Lord Aethan." Florent could see the younger lordling think, then smirk slightly.

"That is good, as soon as the King calls for the Small Council I will bring the issue to light. I suppose we do not have anyone else who speaks Lengii..."

"Not that I am aware of, and from what I gather, Lord Hightower did not travel far enough to require someone who could talk the tongue, perhaps he bought the two in Slaver's Bay or Lys... That being said, he could try to stall for time while he writes to the Citadel. if I recall correctly, Maester Aerion and Maester Loras both have some grasp of the Lengii tongue, but I do not know if it is that great..."

"Let him stall for time." He heard the Velaryon speak, "it won't do him any good. I am confident that anything the Maesters find will concur with Chien's findings." With that he sighed. "As much as I hate doing this now, the court and all the scheming don't wait for anyone... I'm sure Hightower's planning his own move...

Roland walked along the godswood of the Red Keep. It lacked a Heart Tree -even a dead one like the one in Raventree Hall- But at least it gave him some peace. He sat and thought about the new events... A Part of him hoped to be dismissed by the new King. After al, perhaps he could then take Melissa and little Brynden back home... Still, he was not entirely sure if such a thing could happen. After all, as much as he knew that the various factions had their candidates, but he wondered...

"Father." He turned to see Melissa and smiled warmly. She looked at him as she sat. "I suppose that Brynden and myself will be allowed to return home."

Roland took a deep breath and nodded. "Yes, I will arrange it..."

Last edited: Nov 14, 2019

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Nov 14, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Jon (2)/Aethan (10) New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Dec 9, 2019

Add bookmark

#414

Author's note: IT'S ALIVE!

Jon Hightower was not a happy man.

He knew well enough that the new King would not go to war. His revenge would thus not take place... This left him with few courses of action remaining. He paced on his quarters as he thought, wondering. He knew that the Velaryon and the Florent were trying to smear his name -so what if he did pay for the Lengii, they were basically free now, as were all slaves who set foot in Westeros- But he knew that it would not be enough. He was already on thin ice with King Daeron as it was...

It was with this in mind that he turned to the Lysene.

"You are troubled." She told him plainly. She was due to give birth soon.

"So you do practice such arts, those were more than mere rumors." He replied. She raised an eyebrow and he denied with his head.

"I believe it would be in both your and mine best interest to ensure a more... pliable King." His dark eyes remained on the figure in front of him as he continued. "We both know that King Daeron is not inclined to keep you in court, and that the same men that whisper in his ear against you, are doing so against me. Like it or not, you are tied to my own survival in this court."

She stared at him for a few seconds, an unreadable expression in her face.

"I will leave you to think about it." Hightower finally said. He already had a backup plan, but he did not want to depend on it... Not when it depended on his friends at the Citadel.

With that he walked out of her quarters, All that was left was to hope that the letters would arrive soon.

Aethan paced nervously outside of the chambers. Within said chambers there was a maester -actually it was Maester Haegon, his father had sent him over to King's Landing to aid in this- a midwife... And Ellyn. Standing right outside he could hear the screams. And as much as he had been for years in this life, he still worried.

After all, this was not a sterilized hospital room, with proper doctors who took every care of keeping a sterile environment. This was one of the birthing chambers -there was another chamber, reserved for the Royal Family- of the Red Keep... Admittedly, people here seemed to be more conscious of the need for a clean environment than in the actual middle ages...

He paced outside as the screaming subsided. And after a few tense seconds, he could hear the cry of a baby.

He waited however, resisting the urges to just barge in. Two or three more minutes passed when Maester Haegon came out. The old man had a small smile on his face.

"Ah! Lord Aethan, do come in please."

Still nervous, the heir to the Tides walked into the room. It was clear that the midwife had already cleaned up the place as he saw his wife, two small bundles in her arms.

"My lord, they are twins, and both quite healthy."

Aethan's mind nearly crashed for a moment, in one hand, he was a father, that alone was amazing -to say the least-. On the other, he was of a Valyrian family, and now that he saw that they were a boy and a girl, he feared that he might be either pressured to marry them to one another, or worse, having to deal with a situation like that of a certain pair of twins a century or so down the line...

All his worries, however, left his mind when Ellyn turned to see him, a smile on her face despite how tired she clearly was. He sat by her side and she passed him one of the babies. They were asleep by now.

It was then that he realized, that they had not really discussed names before. So caught up in the scheming and surviving at court and with teaching Daemon, that he had not spoken much about names with his wife...

"Corlys." He found himself saying, he saw his wife chuckle slightly at that and he smiled. "After the Seasnake, and of course, his grandfather." He said quietly. He saw Ellyn roll her eyes with an amused smile.

"Then she will be Baela." Ellyn countered with a smirk, Aethan raised an eyebrow at her quiet laugh.

"Well, that should give Grandmother something to smile about... Why do I feel that she asked you to do this?"

"She never would." Ellyn replied, still with a smile, although it was slightly more mischievous than anything.

Little Corlys chose that moment to wake up again, and stare curiously at his father, now Aethan could see that the child had bright lavender eyes.

For once, all seemed well.

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Dec 9, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Daeron (4) New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Dec 9, 2019

Add bookmark

#417

Author's Note: This takes place a couple of days later. Also, consider this my apology for the delay

Daeron, Second of his name, King of the Andals, Rhoynar and the First Men... It still felt surreal for him.

He sat in what was now his own solar, looking as the sun began its descent over Blackwater Bay. He took a sip of his wine and took a deep breath.

There were many things to do. He had just sent a letter to his goodbrother Maron, surely that offer would be the basis to solve this matter before more lives were lost. He also figured that he would need to have his wife brought from Dragonstone. Gods, he loved her, but she could cause him such headaches. And then there was the matter of Lord Hightower.

He heard a knock, and then Ser Rodrick Royce announced that Lord Blackwood was at the door. Daeron stood and bade him in.

"Your Grace." Lord Blackwood bowed. Daeron motioned for him to sit as he himself sat in the chair that so many times he had found his father in... of course, not recently, but still.

"Lord Blackwood. I am to understand that you had several worries regarding your presence in King's Landing... and that of your daughter." Daeron felt no need to do anything other than go straight to the point. That was what led him to call upon him after all.

Said Lord Blackwood shifted slightly on his seat, clearly uncomfortable, and spoke.

"Your Grace, I must admit that one of my main worries has come to naught with the death of His Grace King Aegon. As I am sure you are aware, I feared for my daughter. However, His Grace had been adamant that we were to bring Brynden with us, and my daughter insisted in not letting him out of her sight."

"Yet, your daughter was not your only worry."

"No, Your Grace. Lord Bracken grows bold with each week I remain away from Raventree Hall. Lord Tully means well, but with Lord Mallister siding with Lord Bracken, Lord Tully has not the men or the arms to truly enforce the peace should Lord Bracken try something... drastic."

"He would be violating the King's Peace."

"Aye, Your Grace," Blackwood conceded, "But with all due respect, the feuds of the Riverlands have never been stopped by the King's Peace, There's always a skirmish here, cattle stolen there, my own house is as guilty of this as is House Bracken, but now the Brackens are the ones who would break the peace for an old feud. I am aware that Your Grace wishes for me to remain as Master of Laws, and it would be a great honor, but I must turn it down, for the good of my own house."

Daeron watched the older man, thinking... As much as he could order him to stay, he needed the Riverlands quiet. He had too many troubles at court to allow the region to go down in flames as it tended to do. Reluctantly, and with a small sigh, he finally made his reply.

"I see... Lord Blackwood, I must ask you to remain until the next moon. After that, you will be free to renounce to your position as Master of Laws and return to Raventree Hall." That meant slightly less than two weeks. Daeron had some men in mind to replace Lord Blackwood, as much as he had hoped not to do so. Now he needed to know which one would take the position.

"Thank you, Your Grace," Spoke Blackwood, "By your leave." With that, Daeron nodded, and Lord Blackwood bowed before leaving the solar. Leaving Daeron once more alone with his thoughts...

He was interrupted for a second time, this time by a servant.

"Y-Your Grace! The Queen Dowager has given birth!"

Daeron heard that and looked at the servant. Afraid -after all, his mother had a rather frail disposition- he stood.

"Take me there."

Last edited: Dec 9, 2019

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Dec 9, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Mariah (1)/Naerys (4) New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Dec 9, 2019

Add bookmark

#418

There was a single letter in her desk.

It was her husband's handwriting. And it told of the recent events.

King Aegon was dead, her husband was now King... And he had at last reconsidered, or at least enough to want her by his side. That being said, he had also been very clear on his letter. He would not tolerate more confrontations with his council. Oh, sure, she knew that he would act if anyone dared to do anything to her, but he would not listen about the snakes in his court! Hightower, Florent, Velaryon, their interests may not coincide, but they were all in one way or another, enemies of her house...

Still, even if she was unable to get rid of them, at least she could see to it that they were too busy on each other's throats to move against her or her children.

She had had some months to think, and that she did. Even she had to admit that the way she had tried to do things was rather ham-fisted... Of course, the fact that her brother also wrote to her admonishing her for it helped.

Whatever the case, she had a servant pack what she would take to King's Landing.

Naerys was painfully aware that no one had expected her to survive this. Thankfully, she had, and she could see that almost everyone in the keep seemed relieved by it.

She was happy. Or at least as happy as she could be given what had happened recently. Her children had been born healthy, and while the Maester advised her to stop her fasting and not do any activity that would put stress on her, she was healthy enough. The Yi-Tish that worked for Velaryon had also been helping. He had given her a brew, some sort of tea, which he claimed would help her body strengthen itself against various illnesses.

The two were asleep now. Daenerys and Aenar, a wetnurse staying with her and the twins. She had noticed that Daeron had guards on her room -more so than usual- and wondered if he knew something that she did not.

The Yi-Tish walked in slowly. He was the only one not part of the Royal Household -officially at least- who had been given access to her. He carried his strange tea. Once he was inside he bowed and sat by the bed.

"Your Highness" He greeted her in his still heavily accented High Andal. "Are you well?"

The Queen Dowager nodded, and the man carefully served her the tea.

"Good, Good," He spoke, "I have endeavored to learn about the arts of the Valyrians, but I think some of what I know should be adequate protection."

That got her to raise an eyebrow. "You speak as if there was someone wishing to do me harm."

"Yes, yes, I know not for certain, but one is wishing you ill in this palace, that much I believe."

His mention of Valyrian magic led her to think of only one person. He could only be talking about one person.

For the time being she shrugged it off and drank slowly. When he had left, she could do little else but pray.

Hopefully, her son would see this that she was sure of. And then act accordingly.

Note: Alright, I'm considering a timeskip very very soon. How long do you think it should be? let me know in the comments.

Last edited: Dec 9, 2019

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Dec 9, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Aethan (11) New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Dec 10, 2019

Add bookmark

#422

Slowly he took the letter and read it. It brought a smile to his face.

His Father had deemed it proper to inform him of what was going on in Driftmark. Valaena was due to marry into House Darklyn soon -and as much as he did not quite like the Darklyns since that visit to Duskendale, Ser Edgar Darklyn was a decent enough young man- which would secure the other major house in the Blackwater Bay on their side should something happen.

Furthermore, the Sea Silk had proven to be most profitable, as were the trading fleets.

He put the letter away. Just in time to see a servant walk in.

"My Lord, the King requests your presence."

Aethan nodded and stood, motioning for the boy to take him there.

The walk towards the solar was quiet, and Aethan thought about it... The King still did not know about his suspicions, and he figured that letting the King know -after all, he was already rather mistrustful of Hightower- Therefore, it could be a good moment...

He entered the solar and bowed, King Daeron bade him to sit and so he did.

"Lord Aethan, you must be wondering why I asked for your presence. As it stands, Lord Redwyne is not fit for his duties, and has not been for some time."

Aethan could see where this was going, still he said, "Your Grace?"

"I am to dimiss Lord Redwyne in the morning, he shall return to the Arbor with proper compensation and a gift for the service he provided to the Realm..." Of course, He was dismissed, but he had to be honored, that was good, it helped keep the Redwynes happy, probably even amenable to side with the Florents if it came to it... "And, since you have fulfilled his duties for the last couple of years, I intend to name you officially as Master of Ships."

"You honor me, Your Grace" Aethan replied in the expected platitudes. "If that is to be the case, then I accept the position and will continue to serve the realm... That being said, I believe we ought to speak about the Lord Hand."

That clearly caught the King by surprise. "Mayhaps then I should make you Master of Whispers, Lord Aethan."

"Your Grace, Lord Florent is most capable, and it is from him that I take my suspicions. As it is, the reason why I am telling you this instead of him is because you asked for me, and I know because he has made use of one of my men to find the information..." Aethan could see that the King's interest was now on his words.

"We have reason to believe that Lord Hightower involved himself in the slave trade during his last trip to the Free Cities..."

"You speak about the Lengii girls," The King stated, Aethan nodded before continuing.

"Yes, you may recall my man, Sai Chien. He has been acting as translator for Lord Florent in ensuring that we find out how did they come to be in the service of Lord Hightower. We are still seeking more solid evidence, yet we believe that there is a reasonable case to consider that Lord Hightower bought them from a merchant in Lys."

"That is worrying," Stated the King, "Can I know that you are not trying to get rid of an opponent?"

Aethan took a deep breath. "Your Grace, I am trying to take down a man who would do me and my family harm, that is true. He has simply committed actions that mean that he should, at the very least, not hold the position that His Grace your Father gave him. Thus, I believe that the correct thing to do here, is allow the Royal Justice to operate... You would also do well to be careful, Your Grace, according to Lord Florent, there are whispers of plots, although that is something he is still figuring out."

If it had been any other person, Aethan would not have been so blunt about this. But He and King Daeron had reached an understanding of sorts, and the latter would at the very least listen and give things thought. That alone was for Aethan an improvement... As much as he knew how to talk to King Aegon, he was growing more erratic...

"I see... I will see to it that proper caution is taken. Is that all, Lord Aethan?"

"It is, Your Grace. By your leave?"

The King gave him his leave, and Aethan stood, bowed, and made way to his wife's rooms.

Thankfully, he would not have much to do tonight.

Last edited: Dec 10, 2019

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Dec 10, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Vorian (1) New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Dec 11, 2019

Add bookmark

#442

Vorian Dayne, Lord of Starfall, Sword of the Morning, did not quite understand why had he been called to Sunspear. However, he took it as a chance to see his grievances against the actions and measures of Prince Maron spoken to him.

This, of course, meant that he was quite surprised when Prince Maron called for him to meet him in his solar. He came in, bowed and took a seat.

"I am aware of your grievances, Lord Dayne, but that is not what I called you for."

Vorian stared at the Prince in surprise. He waited, and Prince Maron continued.

"Yesterday, I received a letter, it was from my goodbrother, who is now King Daeron... In it, he offered me a way to at the same time end this conflict between our peoples and the Realm to our north, and to relieve the crisis that the summer has brought. However, I need your support."

Vorian Dayne stared at his liege, trying to wrap his mind around it as Prince Maron gave him the letter. Oh, he had heard of the passing of that fat cunt they called a King. His Father would have said that a dragon was a dragon regardless, but since his sister was a lady in waiting for Princess Mariah -or Queen Mariah now- her opinion about him was much less hostile, and with her opinion, so was his own.

He read the terms. Then read them again. He could see where this was going...

"We would be vassals in all but name, albeit, the only real impact it might have on the Lords of the Mountains and in the Torrentine, will be a prohibition to raid into the marches... At least so long as Dorne is not betrayed, which is something that I believe we must still be prepared for. I am aware that you have had dealings with Lord Yronwood, so I must ask you if he and his allies would be willing to stand down if, upon the first shipments of grain from the Reach and the Riverlands, I remove the additional taxes that I have been forced to raise..."

Vorian was still trying to think. This... This could change everything... still...

"No, Your Grace," Vorian finally said reluctantly, "Lord Yronwood is bent on raising his banners, either to strike at the Marches..."

"Or to Rebel," Stated Prince Maron. Vorian just nodded.

"I see... I suppose that Lords Wyl and Fowler plan to do the same."

"They do, Your Grace, if anything, they will try to use the deal to lead others to revolt against you."

"I see... I trust then, Lord Dayne, that you will continue to make them think that you mean to rebel."

Vorian sighed, and slowly nodded. He could finally see what was the game that Prince Maron was playing. The Prince did not need to say that he could reach his sister to ensure his loyalty. As far as she may have been, it was as if she was his hostage.

"Do not worry about the Greenblood houses, although I suppose that I will need to rein in the Ullers." With that, the Prince stood, Vorian stood as well and bowed slightly, still shaken. "Lord Dayne." The Prince spoke, calmly walking out of the solar. A shaken Vorian did the same soon enough.

Dec 12, 2019

Add bookmark

#444

Author's Note: the more things change, the more they stay the same...

Yet again, he was with a letter in his hand. This one however was not from his father.

It came from Volantis, more precisely, his Grandfather... Apparently, old Malaquo Maegyr was close to one of the Triarchs -one of the two elephants to be more precise- and would be in Westeros to give his respects in behalf of Volantis to the new King

Of course, Aethan had not really spoken much with the man. He remembered seeing him once or twice, or rather, the actual Aethan Velaryon had, when he was a child and Malaquo visited his daughter. But that had not happened in quite some time...

He let out a small sigh, and hoped that he would not prove to be a problem.

"Is something the matter?" He looked up to see Ellyn walking in, tired, but seemingly rather happy. When he raised an eyebrow she sat in front of him. "Corlys and Baela are with a wetnurse." That was another thing that Aethan was not quite used to,

"Ah, yes, My Grandfather plans to visit."

He saw Ellyn look at him confused, then surprisedly, and he could not help but chuckle at the sight. "The Triarchs needed someone to come here and pay their respects to King Daeron, and it seems that he volunteered... and who would have thought, he apologizes for not being at our wedding."

Of course, he had not apologized in the letter, but that got Ellyn to laugh slightly and broke some of the tension that the matter seemed to cause. -And he could not see why-

"Anything I should worry about?" Ellyn asked as she leaned forward, Aethan shrugged before saying, "Well, I have not seen him in a long time... Eh, I doubt you have to worry about anything, although I'm sure I'm in for quite the teasing about a couple of things..." He remembered Malaquo being a fairly jovial fellow, what worried him was that the Volantene Old Blood was seemingly quite interested in keeping the blood pure, and with his own marriage as well as Valaena's upcoming marriage...

Eh, surely Mother would stop him before he could actually make a fuss.

"I see... Well, I will have to hope that you are right."

"He will stop at Driftmark first, to I suppose we will have a closer warning when he's there." Aethan told her, Ellyn smiled and stood up.

"I will leave you to your work then." She had a small smirk on her face. Before she left however, a servant arrived.

"M-My Lord, the lady Serenei has given birth, it was a girl."

Aethan looked at him for a moment, a part of him cursing in his head. Oh, sure, Shiera Seastar was a pretty cool character... She also could be considered what some of the friends that he could very vaguely recall from another life called a thot. And definitely enjoyed getting Brynden jealous... That reminded him, the poor kid deserved better than what he had gotten in canon. At least before the First Blackfyre Rebellion.

Pushing such thoughts ahead, Aethan nodded his thanks. "Thank you Lenard, please do keep me informed."

The servant bowed and left. He saw Ellyn with a raised eyebrow. Before she could ask anything, he shrugged.

"King Daeron will be interested to know that. I think he intended to send her back to Lys, but not before the birth."

Now that he remembered... wasn't she supposed to die in childbirth?

Jon Hightower cursed loudly at the news.

Of course the bitch died shortly after giving birth, it must have been part of her plan.

Oh, sure, he had planned to pin it all on her if he had to face the matter of the Lengii girls. But that was just a contingency, just a last resort that he had hoped to not use. Now he was left without it, and without his primary plan to make sure things would not go there to begin with.

He made into her rooms, and soon he found what he was looking for... snatching a small vial he stormed out, not before looking around to see that no one was following him.

"Damn witch, either way, I do not need her anymore." He said darkly to himself as he walked back to his own quarters. Plans running through his mind...

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Dec 12, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Daeron (5)/Aethan (13) New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Dec 13, 2019

Add bookmark

#466

The dinner was supposed to be calm.

This, however, did not explain why in the seven hells was his food taster dead in the ground beside him. To make things worse, this was actually the first time he had used a food taster in quite a while.

His wife -she had arrived recently- stared in shock, he sighed and stood.

"I suppose that our dinner is ruined now... Tyman," He turned towards a servant, "Please call for Lord Florent, I have need of him. And do tell him to meet me in my solar." Keeping his composure, he stood and left the room, followed by his wife and children.

Mariah excused herself and went with the children and Ser Rodrick, leaving him to his own thoughts in his solar. After perhaps half an hour, Tyman entered and bowed.

"Your Grace... Lord Florent was found dead in his quarters."

In a very uncharacteristic fashion, King Daeron rose from his seat, only one word leaving his mouth at the moment...

"Shit..."

Taking a deep breath and regaining his composure, he looked at Tyman.

"Your Grace?" Tyman asked tentatively, Daeron looked at him and then finally sat back.

"Check on Lord Aethan, if you find him unharmed, see to it that reliable men are with his family and get him here."

Tyman bowed and left at that moment, leaving Daeron alone to his thoughts.

Aethan was having a fairly calm dinner with his wife when Tyman pretty much burst into the room.

"L-Lord Aethan," He seemed out of breath, surely he had been running through the keep, "His Grace requests your presence most urgently."

Purple eyes stared at the servant, a young man from the Westerlands who stood at the open door. "Are you free to discuss what happened or...?"

Before the heir to the Tides could finish his question, the servant stated, "All I can say, is that it is a matter of utmost urgency, My Lord."

Sighing in annoyance, Aethan stood up. Ellyn was clearly confused, he smiled reassuringly towards her and walked out. In the process, passing by two of his own retainers. "Make sure that no one comes in or out of those rooms, especially men sworn to the Lord Hand." He had no reason to believe that this had to do with Hightower, but Murphy had been too quiet lately...

The brisk walk towards the solar of the King was made in silence. Aethan did keep a dagger with him, after all, a small dose of paranoia was a decent way to remain alive in the royal court. He had learned that the hard way.

"Your Grace," He greeted the King with a small bow, and sat as King Daeron bade him to.

"Lord Florent was found dead, and there was an attempt on my life..."

Aethan looked at the King for a moment, knowing that Daeron was not quite a jester, then at Tyman, then back at the King.

"Are the servants of the Kitchens being interrogated?" Aethan asked once he had shaken himself out of the shock. Of course, he should have guessed. He was fairly sure that it had been Hightower, sadly, he had only a hunch, not any evidence.

"I gave the order," King Daeron stated, "I do not expect to find out anything tonight, but soon we should have answers... Do you have any suspicions, Lord Aethan?" The King's question needed no answer, Daeron surely knew that Aethan was after Hightower. Still, he asked.

"I'd suspect Lord Hightower, however, as far as I'm aware, there has been no attempt in my life tonight. So... I'm not entirely sure. I'd still say Lord Hightower, but this is strange, Your Grace." He did not say that he was quite wishing to do something drastic by now.

"I see... In that case, Return with your family, Lord Aethan, we shall convene in the morning and see what comes of this."

"By your leave," Aethan said, The King gave him leave and Aethan hurried back to his family's rooms.

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Dec 13, 2019

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Robb (2)/Mariah (2) New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Jan 19, 2020

Add bookmark

#479

IT'S ALIVE!

Robb Reyne stood outside of the room alongside the Velaryon lordling. The latter had an exhasperated face, one of his fists clenched.

"Son of a bitch." He muttered, before them was the reason why.

Lord Jon Hightower was dead on his bed.

"I never thought that he was the kind of man to take his own life." Robb stated. Aethan shrugged at that and took a deep breath.

"This asshole? He was stubborn, Lord Florent and I were on to his tracks and he was the kind of man that would rather go on his own terms... Still, there's something else at play."

"Maester Myles said that he found no traces of Poison."

Aethan thought for a moment, then added, "Lord Florent was killed with Tears of Lys, as was the food taster, he might have taken the same..." He left the phrase hanging. After all, even in a setting like this one, a dead woman killing someone -unless said dead woman was a wight- was simply not something that would happen...

"Or it could have been someone else?"

"Hells, not even I wanted this prick dead, just away from my family and from power. I just had a... ridiculous thought..." Robb raised an eyebrow, and Aethan continued, "Tell me Ser Robb, is there any tale of a dead person killing a man after her death..." When Robb looked at him confusedly, Aethan added a "Thought so."

"Wait... Serenei? She was a sorceress, and gods know what kind of magic did she know..."

With a small sigh, he heard Aethan mutter a small "So long as it's not like damn Palpatine." That was Odd. Robb would need to figure out more about this figure.

"In either case, I honestly doubt we'll find the murderers, if he didn't kill himself." Aethan stated. "We're short of a Master of Whispers, a Hand of the King, and we will soon be short of a Master of Laws... fun times indeed." He deadpanned. Of course, there would be now a jockeying for positions at court...

"Ugh, I need a drink."

"I think we both do Lord Aethan," Robb added, both men left as servants were taking the body.

She had been with her husband when the news came.

Lord Hightower was dead.

Now, she had to admit that for her, those were not quite bad news. Hightower was a snake, as had been Lord Florent. Two of them were dead. Of course she had nothing to do with that. She had planned to play it carefully.

Still, this only left the Velaryon.

She had no real plan to get rid of him. Admittedly, in the last couple of weeks she figured that it would not be truly necessary... However, sowing some discord here, get him out of his position discreetly... That would be better.

With that in mind, she figured that she could talk to her Husband, perhaps he would listen this time around...

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Jan 19, 2020

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Malaquo (1) New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Feb 21, 2020

New

Add bookmark

#487

Malaquo Maegyr had to admit that King's Landing had some charm to it. Oh sure, there was a stench -not that he had a way to know that in a century it would be much worse- and large parts of the city were built in a pretty... rudimentary way. But it was still worthy of being called a City.

His thoughts drifted to his grandson. The last time he had seen him, the boy was around ten, and was somewhat mischievous. Now he was not just a man grown, but with two children and influence at the Royal Court... Malaquo allowed himself to chuckle as the ship was carefully maneuvered into the docks. As the ramps came down and with the pomp that was adequate for an emissary of Volantis, Malaquo Maegyr descended.

"Master Malaquo" The men that greeted him wore Velaryon colors. "His Grace and Lord Aethan have sent us to welcome you to King's Landing." The leader of the men told him. Malaquo gave a tiny bow in sign of respect and noticed the carriage. It was larger than a Hathay, with four wheels and pulled by two horses. It was fully covered and decorated in quite an appealing manner -if not too richly so-. He eyed the leader of the men and he bowed.

"Lord Aethan had this prepared, in consideration to the traditions of Volantis." That caused the Volantene to chuckle and stroke his white beard for a moment. From what he had heard, he had grown into quite an intelligent man. And there was a mark of respect to Volantis that Malaquo knew some of his aides would note when they gave their report before the Assembly.

The travel from the docks to the Red Keep was rather quick. Malaquo saw that the people of the city looked at the carriage with curiosity, he also noticed that it was of a fairly sturdy cosntruction... His daughter had informed him that the situation in King's Landing was... convoluted. Oh sure, as a Volantene, he was barely unsettled by political murders, but Westerosi were more... sensitive to such things, and his dear daughter had acquired such an inclination.

Admittedly, he had to admit that he found the way the Westerosi dealt with such matters to be more honest. They would either duel themselves, or go to war.

Once they arrived at the Red Keep, he was led to the Throne Room. The skulls of Dragons lined up the walk towards the throne, and in it sat the new King.

Daeron Targaryen... Malaquo had to admit that he found what little he had heard of the man to be intriguing. However, this was not the time for such thoughts.

"Your Grace," Malaquo bowed, as deeply as was proper for a foreign emissary, "I am here in behalf of the Triarchs of Volantis to offer our continued friendship with House Targaryen, and to offer our sincere condolences for the passing of King Aegon."

The new King nodded in acknowledgement before speaking.

"I thank you, Master Maegyr, and I welcome you to King's Landing. I hope that your stay will be comfortable."

"Your Grace," Malaquo bowed once more, "Thank you."

This was just a formality. The true conversations would happen at another point...

With that dealt with, and after exchanging the parting formalities, he left the Throne Room.

Malaquo Maegyr had two great-grandchildren to meet.

Author's Note: Sorry if this feels anticlimactic, I've scrapped and re-written this several times, and this is the only chapter that came out that I'm satisfied. I'm currently trying to figure out exactly what comes next for Aethan and Co. Hope to post the next one soon!

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Feb 21, 2020

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Edgar/Aethan (14) New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Mar 3, 2020

New

Add bookmark

#494

Duskendale

Edgar Darklyn was nervous.

He and his new wife were led away from the sept and towards the Keep proper. So the feast could be made. And he had to admit that he was looking forward to this. Valaena Velaryon was not just gorgeous, he had also noticed that she was smart, and a surprisingly kind girl, at least as far as Edgar had noticed.

They walked into the great hall, and his father had them both seated in the seats of honor. She smiled at him gently and he saw his now goodbrother. The Master of Ships, seemed to smile at him slightly while Lord Velaryon drank calmly from his cup.

The place was filled with song and drink. Lords and Knights ate and drank and flirted. And soon enough they were all dancing. He danced with his wife now, and then he danced with his sister, and with various other maidens, and once more with his wife…

"You seem tense," Valaena told him as they danced, her ice-blue eyes almost shining in the light of the lanterns and candles. Edgar could not help but shrug at that.

"I… It would be dumb to not be tense in a night like this." He told her. He could not help but feel a strange dread fall upon him. He tried to dance it away, to keep it from making things more worrying. He smiled at his wife, and danced and ate once they were seated once more.

Then he drank.

The first thing that Edgar noticed to be wrong, was that his breath became more labored. Chalking it up to nervousness he took another sip, then he heard coughing. Lord Velaryon was coughing. He saw his goodbrother drop his cup -still filled with wine- and run to his father, and then his own breathing became more labored, his throat constricting more and more as he coughed along.

Aethan ran towards his father, but when he got there, he knew that there was nothing left to do. Still he called for a master, just in time to see that Edgar Darklyn was also choking. It took all of his self-control to not draw a sword, after all, whoever had done this would not show himself in such a way…

He saw Valaena on her knees, weeping. Their mother was rushing towards Corlys. But there was nothing they could do.

He was thankful that at least it was not as gruesome as he had expected, but still, it had been the Strangler, and Aethan Velaryon could do little but swear that he would personally dispatch whoever was responsible, in as slow a way as possible.

He looked towards the place where his wife was. But thankfully, Ellyn was fine. She was looking in horror as were all the present, and almost everyone had thrown their goblets and cups of wine to the floor.

In his mind he cursed. But he would need to leave court now. In no small part because as willing as he was to take risks, he was not about to gamble with the lives of his wife, children and younger sister...

Author's Note: Welp, that happened...

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Mar 3, 2020

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Aethan (15) New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Mar 3, 2020

New

Add bookmark

#509

The waves rocked the ship gently as it made its way through the Blackwater Bay and towards Driftmark. Within this ship were the new Lord of the Tides, Aethan Velaryon. His squire and younger sister. His mother on the other hand remained in Duskendale, she would return in a fortnight, once Lord Corlys' remains were prepared to be entombed with his ancestors. While Ellyn remained there as well with their children, planning to return with Saera.

Letters had already been sent to King's Landing, and Aethan, heart filled with grief, made a decision. For now, however, he just informed to the King that he would be absent for some time. In the meantime, he had much to think about, much to do.

The ship continued on its path, and the sun slowly fell below the horizon in Blackwater Bay. He made his way across the deck, trying to think through the grief. It just made no sense! He first thought of who could be interested in killing off the Darklyns. He knew that House Rosby was very much in conflict with them, but Lord Rosby was too much of the martial type. Perhaps his wife?

Perhaps the situation also involved some Riverlander Politics. Lord Darklyn was married to one of Lord Mallister's sisters, and his own sister was married to Lord Vance. Of course, neither of those houses were particularly well connected at this point in time, both choosing neutrality in that conflict that had dominated the politics of the Riverlands since time immemorial...

Perhaps it was aimed at killing his father? But that, again, made no sense. His Father had basically no enemies in Westeros -or at least no one that truly wanted him dead- While attacking him would hardly hurt the Maegyr family in Volantis...

He then wondered if whoever had done this was trying to kill him instead... It made some sense, although poisoning that whole jug of wine was kind of overkill... Still, who? Hightower was dead. Most of his allies were not at court, and the current Lord Bracken was another one of those that would have tried to kill him in a duel rather than with poison. Most of said allies, men like Tarbeck, Fossoway or Costayne were not quite capable of hiring people in other courts.

Perhaps it was the family of Jon Hightower. Or perhaps friends of his in the Citadel... That last possibility was worrying, as it might give him issues with Driftmark's maester. Still he needed to be discreet about it... For now he tried to calm down. What little he had of rational thought at the moment told him that it was a terrible idea to focus on a culprit while consumed by grief.

He stayed up in the deck until the night came to a chill, which even in summer happened at midnight in the Blackwater Bay. Then he lazily made for his cabin. Trying to think through the grief.

As the ship came into port, Aethan Velaryon set foot in his ancestral home for the first time in years. Driftmark had changed. High Tide was being repaired, Spicetown was slowly being rebuilt around it. And as much as he had a hand on it, he knew it was his father's work.

He silently remembered the times before it all happened. He allowed himself to dwell in Aethan's old memories, to take in the sights as he was slowly led to what had once been his room.

As much as Vaemond, the castellan, wanted him to, it felt wrong to take his father's room just yet.

Two weeks. That long until his mother and his wife came with his father's remains. Two weeks to grieve and to think.

For now he just remained in the same room where he first woke up in this world. Barring the door he finally allowed himself to weep.

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Mar 3, 2020

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Daeron (6)/Olyvar (1)/Quentyn (3) New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Mar 8, 2020

New

Add bookmark

#528

The news from Duskendale were dire.

The fact that the now Lord Velaryon had basically informed him that he would be unable to fulfil his duties as Master of Ships for some time -at the very least- only made things more complicated.

King Daeron did receive the recommendations that the grief-stricken lord manage to give him. Reinstate Lord Blackwood in the Small Council, name Lord Mooton -should it be necessary- as Master of Ships, and Lord Tarbeck as Master of Whispers...

He had to admit, while he did not doubt that those men were competent, he also did not truly believe them to be reliable enough.

Further complicating things, was that Ser Quentyn had apparently made for Driftmark as well, although he did state that he -and Baelor- would return soon.

In such a situation, he waited.

"Father," It was Aerys, his bright purple eyes seemingly worried. "Is something wrong?" Daeron could almost swear that he was too smart for his age.

"No Aerys, it will all be fine." Daeron added. He was not truly convinced himself, but it was all he could bring himself to say.

Aerys seemed to notice something wrong with that statement, but didn't push it, instead choosing to return to his book...

Lord Olyver watched his nephew practice with the sword. The boy was becoming one of the best, of that he was sure.

Oh, sure, he scowled far too much for a child of that age. But then again, he had all the right to do so. He had been -along with his mother- usurped by a Blackwood bitch. Robbed of a father -and now that he was legitimate, also robbed of his rights-.

A servant came to Olvyer Bracken, Lord of Stone Hedge, with a letter in hand. It carried the seal of King Daeron, and in it was a summon to court.

Olyver allowed himself to smile. Soon enough, the humiliation would be repaid.

A second letter, this one without a seal, awaited for him in his desk. It told him of events that had happened at a certain wedding in Duskendale. He read it quickly and tossed it into the fire.

There was a third letter, written by his sister Jayne, the youngest daughter of Lord Myles Bracken had married into House Rosby, and was admittedly quite enamored by her husband. Ser Matthis Rosby was, admittedly, quite the looker, and quite gallant too, Olyver reluctantly admitted.

For now, he planned. And silently prayed that Rosby's gamble would pay off rather than bring more death upon their houses... After all, King Aegon had only refrained from punishing House Bracken further for his father's mistakes because of little Aegor...

King Daeron was not a man that lord Olyvar knew, but he was fairly sure that he would not be as merciful if given an excuse.

"I still can't believe that you brought Baelor with you." Aethan told Ser Quentyn. "Or that you came to Driftmark. I still thank you, my friend." A small smile formed upon his weary face as he picked up his own basket-hilted sword.

"I don't trust the King's party Aethan." Quentyn replied, "I may have the Prince of Dragonstone as my Squire, but I don't trust those that seek King Daeron's favor."

"Ah, yes, what can I say, I never tried it too hard. King Aegon saw me as his own little Oakenfist, and Daeron always saw me as someone rather rational. I guess it was good while it lasted..."

Quentyn's eyes widened at the implications. "So it's true then, you're resigning."

With a small sigh, Aethan nodded as he gave his sword a swing. "Aye, I don't have anyone reliable enough to leave in charge of Driftmark. All I have is Valaena, who, mind you, is smart, but not in any state to take the responsibility on her shoulders, Mother, of whom I can say the same, and cousin Daemon who, like Ser Rhogar and Ser Malentine so long ago, would like nothing more than a chance to take over and usurp me..."

Quentyn picked up his sword. He had noticed the now Lord of the Tides to be in a foul mood. A deep melancholy seemed to have claimed him, although he was lucid enough to realize it himself.

"There is more to it."

Assuming a stance, Aethan nodded at the older knight. "I need some time away from court Quentyn. I'm weary of it all. Of the scheming and poisonings and the utter stupidity shown by some in the Red Keep, of having to sleep with an eye open because Hightower or one of his cronies might one day decide to do something particularly stupid, of worrying about someone killing my wife and children..."

"I get it." Quentyn simply replied before they started to spar in the courtyard of High Tide, "I do hope, for your sake, that whatever is going on now, ends before Ellyn arrives. Lest she smacks you out of it" He told him with a teasing grin.

Aethan managed a small laugh at that as they started. Letting the dread and frustration and grief go to his hands and his blade.

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Mar 8, 2020

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Ellyn (7) New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Mar 14, 2020

New

Add bookmark

#532

Ellyn Velaryon arrived shortly after dawn. Before her, the sight was breathtaking. In the years that had passed since the last time she had been in Driftmark, Spice Town had been partly rebuilt, and High Tide seemed to be regaining its glory. It truly seemed as if the lands of House Velaryon were at last healing from the Dance of the Dragons, from the fire and fury visited upon them by Blacks and Greens alike.

Lord Corlys would be laid to rest in two days. His body would go down into the crypts where Velaryons had been laid to rest for five centuries.

In the meantime, Aethan came upon Ellyn in a balcony of High Tide. She heard his footsteps and felt his arms slowly wrap around her. However, he was quiet, too quiet even for his standards.

Slowly she turned to face him, and embraced him carefully.

Oh she had seen him happy, angry, sad, worried... but never in such grief.

He held her closely, and they remained like that for some time.

Ellyn saw how Aethan had been throwing himself into his work as Lord of the Tides. It was a good way to distract himself.

With his father laid to rest, the time came to ensure that things were working. And so he toured Spice Town. Over the last couple of years the city had been slowly rebuilt. Artisans whose livelyhood came from the Sea Silk occupied an area near the harbor, merchants traded in goods that came from as far away as Yin, and a Sept had been built already.

He and Ellyn both walked through Spice Town now. And Ellyn could see what the locals were doing. There were still many houses -proper houses, not the makeshift structures of Flea Bottom, but proper buildings.

She could swear that Aethan smiled for the first time since Duskendale upon seeing the city. She saw the crowds look at him curiously, and he gave coin to smallfolk children that approached him.

As they walked, she saw him speak with people. They headed to a large building, built in a strange theatre shape.

"Dear, we're about to meet with the guild leaders of the city... I admit I have been looking forward to this" She had been learning about it, the guilds were usually left to run the town, and the Lord would usually act to keep them from causing troubles.

They both sat on the Dais that was set up within the theater, and the leaders of the guilds came before them.

"Lord Aethan," Spoke a woman, she was short, slender and with gray hair. "First and foremost, you have our condolences for the... unfortunate death of Lord Corlys. He was a good man and a good Lord, and he will be greatly missed."

Aethan gave a small nod in acknowledgment and replied, "Thank you, Mistress Alys." With that they soon started.

Spice Town was governed jointly by the guilds and the Lord of the Tides, that Ellyn had learned in the time she spent in Driftmark after her marriage. Blacksmiths, Silk Weavers, Fishermen, Shipwrights, and three Merchant guilds all coexisted, and they all met with the Lord of the Tides twice a moon.

This particular meeting was not long. The Shipwright's guild informed of the completion of some new Carracks for the voyages east. The Silk Weavers informed that they were actually struggling to keep up with the demand -especially from Esossi magisters- and two of the other Merchant Guilds informed him of a dispute between them.

She saw her husband listen, and then set a date for a more adequate hearing on the matter. And with that, this meeting was over.

The walk through Spice Town back towards the castle took them towards the market. Spices from as far as Qarth and Faros were sold, the smells filling the place, goldsmiths and blacksmiths had the fronts of their shops here as well, and there were several taverns for the returning sailors.

Aethan seemed somewhat content. And as they walked, he held her hand.

Ellyn had to admit, she was looking forward to not returning to court, or at least not permanently...

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Mar 14, 2020

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Daemon (1) New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Mar 14, 2020

New

Add bookmark

#542

195 AC, Spice Town

The Hǎilóng sailed into port. Despite its name, it was a Driftmark-built Carrack, however, the name had a story behind it. Back when it was built, Sai Chien had advised Lord Velaryon to use such a name.

"It is auspicious to name such a ship after a great sea beast, and what greater beast than the Sea Dragon?"

Lord Corlys had agreed before his death. And she had become the unofficial flagship of the Great Eastern Convoys.

Daemon for his own part, was anxious to get on the shore.

He and Lord Aethan had been away for a full year, sailing towards Yi-Ti and back. And he was still awestruck by the place. The massive palaces as large as King's Landing, the armies numbering a million men, and the sheer amount of gold and riches to be had in the East... It was humbling in a way.

His squire came over, and not behind, was said squire's father. He let out a small laugh and looked at him.

"Yes, I was just as awestruck as you are when I took my first trip." Lord Aethan told him with a small smile, watching as the Hǎilóng was carefully guided into a dock. Daemon still remembered that. He had just been knighted, and almost immediately had Aethan ask him to take young Corlys as his squire. Then Aethan announced that he was taking a year to travel to the East as his forefather the Seasnake had done.

It was on that trip that Sai Chien finally returned home, something about having chosen to remain in Westeros until he could repay fully what he claimed to owe to the Velaryons -not that Daemon truly knew what was that about- For a year, Driftmark was ruled by Lady Ellyn, and she proved to be every bit as smart as needed. So, Aethan had chosen to take Daemon and Corlys on this trip.

The fact that Corlys had basically earned a knighthood during it, and would be knighted by Daemon soon enough, was also part of why everyone was in such a good mood.

"We still need to talk Daemon." Aethan told him, the smile dissappearing but without losing a jovial tone. "I did tell you that I would use this trip to think on that one matter."

Daemon nodded at that, thinking.

On the port, the first person he saw was his half-brother Brynden. The hooded boy was always a bit strange, almost as bookish as King Daeron, but as good as Lord Aethan with a blade, and perhaps the best bowman in either side of the Narrow Sea... He also had a bit of an unhealthy -in Daemon's mind- fascination with the arcane.

He was also utterly adorable whenever their half-sister Shiera came to visit. Too awkward for his own good. At least she seemed to like that.

His thoughts drifted to some of the events since he left the capital with Lord Aethan. Brynden -and Melissa Blackwood- had come to Driftmark after the marriage of Valaena Velaryon and Quentyn Blackwood. He thought of the constant letters exchanged between Aethan and Lord Mooton, as well as with the King...

He was shaken out of his thoughts when Lord Aethan spoke.

"It's time to get down... I don't know about you, but I do want to feel land under my feet." He said with a grin, and Daemon couldn't help but laugh slightly.

They did not ride horses nor did they went on carriages to the castle. They walked from the docks. The sounds of a bustling town -a city more like, but since it had no charter, it had no right to be called such- around them. The hammers of the blacksmiths and the cries of the merchants offering their wares in one of the great plazas. Even Daemon, who had more of a mind for war and combat than for politics, could see what this was.

Lord Aethan was making sure that he was seen by the smallfolk, making sure that they knew that he was behind their prosperity, and they loved him for it.

The shops gave way to the manses of the richest in the town, to the Guild Halls and the strange institution that Lord Aethan had set up. A University he called it, a place where the smallfolk -or sons of unlanded knights sworn to Driftmark- would learn, they would, of course, not learn all that the Maester of a castle could teach them, but they would focus on one or two disciplines.

To say that the product of this was starting to be seen, was not an exaggeration. It was a slow process, and Aethan had barely managed to not come into outright conflict with the Citadel over it, but in the end it had worked out.

Slowly they came into High Tide itself, And after the emotive re-encounter of Lord Aethan and his wife and daughter -and his own reunion with her- Aethan called him to his solar. They both sat, watered wine was brought, and Aethan then spoke.

"Very well, I suppose we ought to talk about your wish to marry my daughter." He spoke, his face as devoid of emotion as it was when he was negotiating a trade deal in Yin or securing support from a minor Riverlands lord.

Daemon took a deep breath, as much as he knew what Lord Aethan would say, he was not looking forward to this.

Last edited: Mar 14, 2020

"Magic is like catnip for Targaryens. They rarely act sober around it."

Spoiler: My Stories

ReplyReport

Witteric of the West

Mar 14, 2020

New

Add bookmark

View content

Threadmarks Daeron (7)/Aethan (16) New

View content

Witteric of the West

ES ZEUS!

Mar 15, 2020

New

Add bookmark

#582

Another day, another fruitless discussion in the Small Council.

Daeron Targaryen was frustrated.

His Lord Hand was a man he did not fully trust, but who could at least be counted to not be in the pocket of either major faction -if one did not count the Riverlands... It was ironic even, how his wife seemed to be surprisingly friendly -and thankfully not extremely so- to Lord Bracken after all.

The situation was... tense... to say the least. Lord Peake had formed a coalition across the Reach and Stormlander parts of the Dornish Marches, and they demanded that the master of laws -Ser Qoren Martell- be removed... The Reach in general was very close to a war as the Hightowers got the Redwynes on their side, as well as various lords in the Northern part of the Reach. Tarly and Florent on the other hand, had allied themselves to House Tyrell and the smaller houses of the Central Reach to act as a counterweight to the Hightowers.

Daeron was no fool. And he could see a war coming. The Marcher Lords were stirring, the Reach was bracing for a civil war, and the Riverlands were also on the edge, with all houses picking sides between Blackwoods and Brackens as well.

The Stormlands -save for the Marcher Lords- were fairly quiet, more so since his decision to have his sister Daenerys marry Ser Ronnel, heir to Lord Olyver. On such circumstances, all that was left was to ensure that this situation would not grow into a war that would consume the realm.

He sighed in annoyance as Lord Bracken continued his tirade in the meeting. His claim that Lord Velaryon was planning to install Daemon as King was something that he had grown tired of.

"Lord Aethan had enough opportunities to do so" Daeron thought. Lord Mooton, the Master of Ships, stood up in indignation, and it took Ser Roland Crakehall standing up to keep either of them from doing something stupid. Especially once Bracken demanded that Mooton resigned for his relation to the Velaryons...

Daeron thought about dismissing Lord Bracken, but doing so would lead to the Riverlands going up in flames after all.

He stood, and called off the meeting. The lords trickled out of the Council Hall, and he made his way to his quarters. King Daeron had several letters to write.

Aethan let out a long tired sigh once Daemon left his solar.

Oh, he would allow such a wedding, and he would do so for two reasons... On one hand, Baela was utterly in love with his former squire, and said former squire seemed to return her feelings. On the other, even a blind man could see the writing on the wall. There was a war brewing, and for all he had tried to stop it, he had this gut feeling that he -and Daemon- would find themselves with no other choice than making a move.

Aethan was, to an extent, regretting the fact that he agreed to take Brynden in. Then again, he already had a target on his back.

Oh he had long suspected the Brackens to having been involved in the murder of his father. However he had no evidence of it... And now they were trying to see him and his family killed by framing them for treason.

With a small sigh he finished writing his letter. He thought about sending it by raven, but chose a courier instead. Ever since his spat with the Maesters, he didn't trust them with sensitive messages.

Once that was dealt with, there was little to do but praying that things would not blow up in such a manner. He was not looking forward to having to fight a war, and if it could still be avoided then it was all for the better.

Not that he had much in the way of hopes for that.

Monday at 1:25 PM

New

Add bookmark

#605

William Mooton, Lord of Maidenpool and Master of Ships was too old for this.

Damn that Bracken, he dared insult him and his family! He even spoke of arresting them all! Not even that damn Dornish Ser Qoren dared to do such a thing -if anything, he seemed opposed to the idea- However, deep down, he had to wonder if Aethan was trying to do such a thing...

He had secured betrothals for his family among some houses that at face value didn't seem to make too much sense -After all, his heir Corlys would marry the eldest daughter of Lord Arryn, his second daughter Alysanne was to marry into the Manderlys, and his niece, Lord Blackwood's Daughter, was to marry Lord Stark, and William knew that Aethan had been a part to that negotiation.

That really started to look like a coalition to dethrone a King. considering that the Blackwoods had also managed to become tied into House Tully, And that the ties between Aethan and the Florent-Tarly coalition that was starting to be built on the Reach were, while not marriage ties, still fairly strong...

William knew the Lord of the Tides well enough, to know that he did not want to start the war. That being said, he was not entirely sure of what game was he playing. Most likely he was trying to prepare for the case of war. However he was still on decent terms with King Daeron...

His thoughts drifted to Lord Bracken.

Olyver Bracken was competent and fierce. He also had an obsession with two persons. Melissa Blackwood and her son Brynden. And ever since they had been taken in by Lord Aethan, this extended to the latter. The fact that Lord Quentyn had married Valaena only made the situation more of a mess.

At the moment, the balance of power seemed to be in favor of House Blackwood -that was why Aethan had allowed that marriage anyway, and because they were already aligned with the Darklyns whom he was still courting at that point- but the situation was... tense. The Riverlands were already stirred up, and most houses had picked sides already. Lord Lothston had sided with the Blackwoods, as had Lords Darry, Frey and the Atranta branch of House Vance. The Vances of Wayfarer's Rest, Mallisters, Rygers and Pipers were all firmly backing the Brackens. And House Tully was tied to the former...

William Mooton let out a deep breath as he walked into his rooms. He was too old for this, and he knew that it would only take a small spark to ignite the barrels of wildfire.

He couldn't help but wonder what would it be.

Aethan watched the ships from a balcony before stroking his beard. The port of Spice Town was bustling, ships -these ones from the Free Cities- docked and departed. He could make out some of the warships he had also built.

As the years passed, he had to admit that he was becoming more of a cynic than he had been before. With new wealth came new threats, and new needs. Pirates had started to show up further north in the Narrow Sea, which led him to have new warships built, and switch from lone merchantmen to convoys. It had been a gradual thing, but eventually he had built up a fleet as great as the one that the Seasnake had once commanded.

He kept in touch with his goodfather, who had replaced him as Master of Ships, and the picture at court was not pretty. -Not that the whole realm was quiet- Lord Bracken had managed to set himself as a Loyalist -how did he do it, still baffled Aethan- and the situation was only made worse by his supporters... The Hightowers were behind him, as were the Redwynes and shockingly enough, the Dornish also gave him some tacit support.

Truly the world was going mad.

Aethan had seen the network of alliances that was being weaved. He had noticed the Tarlys and Florents tie themselves to the Tyrells, Lord Peake sending his son to squire under Lord Tarly, the Blackwoods spread their net across the Riverlands while the Brackens did the same, untill that realm was about to burst in flames... And then there was Dorne.

The Martells managed to avoid a great revolt, but things also seemed conflicted there. Aliandra Dayne, Lord Vorian's sister, was sent away by Queen Mariah. In itself that was not too significant, but it was an open secret at court that she was as much her handmaiden as she was Prince Maron's hostage against Lord Dayne. So now the Daynes and Yronwoods were making common cause...

Shockingly enough, the Westerlands were quiet. Lord Reyne had married a niece of the Lord of Casterly Rock, and Aethan was already considering to have his second son, Addam, squire under Ser Robb...

It was then, as he finally had a moment to actually sit down and think on the matter that he noticed what was going on. And only one word came out of his mouth...

"Shit..." He told himself. He couldn't help but feel that he was being played.

He had aimed to become a hub in a network of alliances, and use that as insurance, a way to avoid isolation and the dangers of it. He had tried to build up alliances should worse come to worse...

Only now did he realize that, to those who wanted to see it that way, it would look as if he wanted to have Daemon usurp the throne...

And now there was Baela's marriage to Daemon... With a deep breath he turned to go back into his rooms.

"Well... I will have to spring the trap then..." Was all he could say. He had backed himself into this... If someone managed to contain Bracken, then there was a chance of this not going further, but he did not feel confident on the chances of that happening.

He would have to prepare for war soon enough.