Dance of Ice and Fire
schrutfarms
Chapter 9: Chapter 9
Summary:
- We get a look into Winterfell and the Lords of the North.
- Father and Son say their farewell as their journey leads them to different path.
Notes:
It has been quite some time about with this story. Frankly life has kept me busy and I have not had the opportunity to finish the chapter. In any case here you go.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Gaemon
Winterfell – Eighth moon of 106 AC
He was flying high on Vermithor as he saw a blanket of white in the bottom. Gaemon was freezing as cold settled on his bones Vermithor's blazing warm scales only filled him with glee. At the distance, he could spot the granite walls of Winterfell.
My mother's home and her resting place, Gaemon thought.
It had been four days since Gaemon and his retinue departed White Harbor. They had sailed up White Knife upon Lady Lyanna's Grace. The river had its headwater which join south of Long Lake and another at the Lonely Hills. Gaemon had mounted Vermithor when they had reached the fork.
The galley's travel upstream had been uncomfortable Gaemon's liking. As soon as they had arrived the Cerwyn lands, kepa had declared that they would ride on their dragon on the final stretch. His father had wished to show Winterfell that a dragon was returning and not a wolf. Gaemon had been amused by his father need to display him as a Targaryen prince. He had already known who he was and the fact that he had Vermithor as his mount.
Gaemon heard a roar coming from his left and he saw a golden cloak flying and his father's violet eyes filled with mirth. He reined Caraxes and the Blood Wyrm took a dive down towards the woods at the west. Gaemon smiled, oh you wish to race now, kepa. It was as if Vermithor heard his thoughts and moved left. He screamed in joy and held tightly to his warm scales as he saw Caraxes on his front as he was descending. He saw the Red underbelly of Caraxes as Vermithor roared out.
The wings flapped as Caraxes rose up raising the flurry of snow in the air that had been stuck in the leaves. Winterfell was finally approaching as was Wintertown and it was approaching faster than Gaemon thought off. At distance, Winterfell had seemed small but now as it approached, the castle was looming and was larger and larger as they came close. There were two sets of curtain walls, the inner wall loomed larger than the outer wall.
The shadows of Vermithor and Caraxes loomed over Winterfell. Gaemon noted the guards at the top of the wall who seemed as small as ants from Gaemon's vision. Ants was what Gaemon thought off when he looked at Wintertown, as it was such when it compared to King's Landing. They flew past the wall as they descended down the castle which was acres and acres in length and distance. Vermithor flew closer to the largest tower and geared right towards a garden or woods. Godswood, Gaemon realized. The trees were oaken sentinels that were covered in the white of snow. With autumn at its end, the leaves had withered away yet both Vermithor and Caraxes pushed forth towards one tree that still had its leaves intact.
The Weirwood Tree, Gaemon realized almost instantly upon looking at the carved face. Before leaving for Dragonstone, Grandmaester Runciter had told him once that every castle has its Godswood and every Godswood had its weirwood tree with a face carved upon it.
With a loud thud, both dragons landed and let out a deafening roar. Gaemon glanced at the Blood Wyrm and noticed his father descending down. He himself grunted as he carefully moved his legs around Vermithor's huge scales. The last thing I need is for my breeches to rip as I meet the lords of the North, Gaemon rued. The Bronze Dragon carefully knelt down and turned his slithery head towards Gaemon as he made his attempt to descend down.
As he descended down, Gaemon straightened his tunic and his dark red cloak. He went forward to his bronze dragon whose eyes were gazing upon him. He could see smoke coming out of his nostrils as he pressed close to Gaemon. He felt the blazing warmth which Gaemon felt to be welcoming. He reached the dragon's snout with his gloved hands to caress it and his mount accepted and turned his head.
Both dragons flew away and Gaemon spotted his father looking up. His silver gold hair was loose and his face seemed bit unkempt and had a slight bruised face. He had inquired about it but his father downplayed it, telling him that he fell down the stairs. Gaemon sensed that he was lying by the looks his father was giving his Uncle Rickon. He had fooled his guards to tell him the truth yet even they had not known what had happened. Only his Uncle's friend had asked to speak to them at night.
"I had thought they would remain here" Gaemon muttered as he saw the dragon's flying at the distance.
His father looked down at him and grinned, "mayhap they don't wish to suffer the hairy Northern lords".
Gaemon chuckled as he turned to look at the face of the weirwood tree, "mayhap, the dragons might confuse them with furry bears."
His father looked at him surprised at the jape and he roared out with laughter and brought his hand around his shoulder as they walked towards the benches that were across the weirwood tree. He wondered how long would it take for the welcoming party to come to Godswood.
"Was this where Caraxes landed when you first came?" Gaemon inquired.
His father gave a distant look, "Yes, though unlike this time, he had remained here with me and not flew off alongside Vermithor."
They saw at the distance both Caraxes and Vermithor flying and singing alongside, "why did he stay?"
He stared at Gaemon with a sad look, "well, I had not known that Starks would extend their hospitality."
Gaemon's eyes widened at that, "they would not have harmed you." Even though, Gaemon was not certain what would have happened back then.
Father ruffled his hair and chuckled, "Why Gaems, if it were not for your father's charms and wits, we would have been in a war with Starks?"
"So, you are saying that your charms seduced them to thinking that you are not an enemy?" Gaemon asked with his brows raised.
Father snorted, "as if my seductions could work on these frozen bricks who like to call themselves Starks."
He never understood his father's disdain when it came to Starks, "Mother is a Stark," Gaemon objected.
"Yes, well once in a century Gods certainly do seem to share their grace upon frozen bricks and they chose to grace them with a Winter Rose that had been your mother" His father said in a soft tone.
Gaemon looked at the face at Weirwood tree, "God"
His father looked at him confusedly, "the Northmen only pray to a god" Gaemon pointed at the face of the weirwood, "a very scary one at that."
"It's just a face Gaems," his father chuckled as he looked at that, "a scary one for sure, but for some odd reason Caraxes had been calm around its presence."
Old Gods of First Men were something that made Gaemon uncomfortable. He had been raised under the light of the Seven and had been thought the hymns and prayers. When he asked his Uncle Bennard of the Old Gods, when he told his septa about it, she had told him of the savagery that they lived with. Runciter told him not to put much stock into the tales. Gaemon personally felt discomforted by the face that was drawn in the weirwood, it felt as if it was gazing through his body and spirit.
They heard multiple footsteps approaching at which both Gaemon and his father stood up.
There was a dozen of men at arms with leaflet of spears on their left hand and shield that shown the colors of House Stark on the right. They wore boiled brown leather and round half helms. Compared to the plated and refined steel armor that was worn in South, the Stark men looked half beggars, Gaemon observed. In the center of the company, were two figures approaching.
One was a familiar sight who had a mirthful look upon him. His uncle Bennard had certainly looked different than he had been when he was in King's Landing. Unlike the colorful silk tunics, he wore in the South, here he had worn a dull leather tunic with a black fur cloak wrapped on his back. His hair had grown as had his beard. Gaemon could see the resemblance between him and Uncle Rickon clothed in all the leather and fur. The last time Gaemon had seen his Uncle was when he had been crowned as the prince. He had returned back to Winterfell alongside his grandfather.
A small part of Gaemon had wished to run and embrace his uncle right away, but he had known better to maintain his princely etiquette.
Septa Noelle had seen to it that he learned his courtesies when he would first arrive in North. Though, judging from the boisterous feasts thrown at White Harbor, Gaemon could only wonder what uses would those courtesies be of at the Hall of Winterfell.
Alongside his Uncle Bennard was a lean lady who walked with grace in her bright blue gown, her hair was open and brown in coloring matching her eyes. She had a frown on her face while her hands were folded in the center. Uncle Bennard whispered something in the lady's ear as she looked at Gaemon and her gaze softened a bit, but maintained her stern posture.
Lady Gilliane nodded and came forth alongside his Uncle Bennard, she curtsied and bowed while Uncle Bennard kneels alongside the guards.
His father moved forth, Gaemon noted that his gold cloak was brushing through the snow as he went forth. He gently took lady Gilliane's hand gave a chaste kiss on his hand.
"My lady, I must say your beauty brings warmth and shine to the cold and unforgiving North," his father's flattery felt empty. Normally Gaemon has seen his father persuade, charm and flatter any maiden in the south. Yet his flattery felt emptier here and Lady Gilliane made note of it.
She smiled, "mayhap the prince would prefer getting his royal arse down from his saddled dragon to truly appreciate the beauty of the North."
Before her sharp words could bore a retort, his Uncle interrupted, "By the Old Gods and New, is that young Gaemon?"
Gaemon gave a wry smile and approached his uncle, "Uncle Bennard" as he went to embrace him.
His uncle had worn thickened furs, Gaemon looked up to stare at him and frown, "you were not there at White Harbor?"
Bennard sighed at that, "aye, duties kept me acquainted here. Lady Gilliane needed my assistance here." He came close and whispered in his ear, "her precious shoulders could not handle the burden of ruling Winterfell by herself."
Lady Gilliane must have heard him as she rolled her eyes and whacked her uncle's head as if he was a child of five nameday caught stealing sweets, "if by helping, meaning drinking one glass of ale after another and getting your head rung like a bell while sparring then yes, you have been helpful."
"Well, someone had to keep the Umbers happy, Harmon Umber and his bloody ilk drank like thirsty fiends," Bennard defended.
"Yes, yes, we all know it, now move let me take a look at my nephew" Lady Gilliane chided as she moved his Uncle away.
Gaemon quickly turned around to glimpse at his father, he had expected stiffness yet somehow, he had seemed amused with the exchange between his Uncle and Lady Stark.
Lady Gilliane cupped his cheeks and looked at him as if she was searching for something, "The Stark blood is in you, I can see. When I was told you were coming, I half thought that you would be some silver haired ponce, but there is a lot of Lyanna in you after all."
A hand came onto Gaemon's shoulders, he recognized the golden ring with a ruby stone on it. It was his father's hand as he pushed him back, "my lady, we had a long flight flying here and we are afraid the cold winds have us wishing for a warm bath if it pleases you," his father mentioned in a diplomatic manner.
Lady Gilliane, who had softness in her features when she spoke to him brought a mask of indifference and nodded, "very well my prince, the ravens flew faster than your dragons. Rickon had informed of your intentions from Castle Cerwyn." She signaled the guards and a stout man, "Beron here is our steward, he shall guide you to your rooms. The feast will be held at the night. Lords Umber, Dustin, Karstark have already arrived and Lord's Bolton, Manderly, Cerwyn and Tallahart will arrive alongside Rickon."
--
His chambers were massive, almost as big as his rooms in King's Landing. His dressings were laid out at his canopied bed. It was so big that he could fit five Rhaenyra's in it. Gaemon scoffed at that, Rhaenyra would probably freeze before she could arrive at Winterfell. He went towards the bed and picked his clothing up and laid it by his chair. His rooms had minimal furniture, Gaemon had expected his rooms to be cold, but was surprised with the warmth emanating from the walls.
The steward had told him that his rooms were brightest amongst Winterfell, yet compared to King's Landing it was gloomier and was somewhat reminiscent to his rooms in Dragonstone. The servants in Winterfell were more brazen than they were in Dragonstone or in King's Landing. Kepa had told him that manners were not something that North was known for.
He opened his chest to find the brooch that Rhaenyra had gifted him the day before he left for the North and placed it by his clothing. Gaemon was surprised that his cousin was able to make it. There was a feast held just before they were departing for the North. Muna Gael had arrived with Alyssa, Rhaenyra and knights of King's Guard.
The tall knight that Rhaenyra liked had also been there. Something about the way man looked at her did not sit well with Gaemon. Kepa had seemed as if he would burst into a dragon when he saw Ser Criston Cole come. Ever since he had been in Dragonstone after his fight with Uncle Viserys, he had been far too quick to anger. He had almost become sullen when his lady friend had left. Though ever since they had been to Driftmark and met with Velaryon kin, he had a sense of passion returned.
His father had planned on fighting evil pirates down Stepstones, Gaemon had wanted to join his kepa as well, but he sternly denied him. He did not speak with him while they had been in Driftmark until his cousin Laena explained him.
"Pirates have no morals, if you go with your kepa he would be worried about you rather than them." She was a head taller than him as she pushed her silver hair off him as her purple eyes gazed at him as muna Gael would when he would be pouty.
"And you have your own adventure up in the North, living alongside Northern lords flying on a fairly smaller Vermithor"
Gaemon rolled his eyes at that, she still seemed to believe that Vhagar was bigger than Vermithor, "I just don't want to be alone in North. Nyra is going to remain in King's Landing along with Muna Gael and Alyssa." His eyes were becoming glassy, but he quickly rubbed it away. Gaemon was not going to cry in front of a lady.
Laena sighed and placed his hands on his shoulders, "some journeys are meant to be taken alone Gaems, do you know that all heroes partake in their journey by themselves."
Gaemon scoffed at that notion, "I am not a child Laena, I know that life is not a song."
At his tone Laena grew stern, "then stop acting like a petulant child crying for your father. He has his journey and you will have your own."
Her words were stern but true, since then he has been paying attention to his father's conversation with Lord Corlys. Kepa was growing to notice his effort and had found him amusing, yet would continue to explain his approaches. Gaemon even asked his father to speak to his uncle Rickon about this. In the end, the Northern lords seemed happy about the notion about that his father is leading men into the war. In the end, kepa had informed him that his uncle Rickon would announce his pledge to his father tonight at the feast at Great Hall.
Gaemon heard Vermithor and Caraxes singing at the distance. He walked to the windows and looked at the full moon. The night was bright and clear and he could see the dragons flying far away. He wondered how far they actually are because from his chambers they actually appear as two birds. Gaemon smiled at that because he could feel it that both dragons were happy in flying. Certainly, the weather had been cold, but the sense of freedom that they had in their flight North was not possible in South.
He walked towards his bed and picked up the brooch again and began to think of Rhaenyra again and the parting kiss that she gave him on his lips. It was odd, but Gaemon liked it and he wished that he could kiss her more. Gaemon sighed and dressed himself ready. He combed through his hair and wore his circlet symbolizing the dragon and the wolf. He stared himself at the looking glass to see his reflection. The brown hair that had been growing, his mismatched eyes that had signified his Stark and Targaryen lineage. Gaemon had been a lanky child while he was in King's Landing, but ever since his kepa had taken upon himself to train him. He had felt stronger and was growing larger than before. Gaemon suspected that North will only make more a warrior out of him.
"My Prince" a voice called Gaemon out. He turned to look at Ser Steffon Darklyn wearing his white plated armor and the half helm that covered his facial features. He was a stern man who was not prone to the japes. He had only joined the Kingsguard a year ago and had always kept his distance from him. Gaemon suspected that the man had disliked him, but kepa had assured him that the man was a dour one who never really appreciated the pleasures of life.
"Ser Steffon" Gaemon inquired.
"It is time," the man retorted. He is tired, Gaemon realized. They have been on road, sailing on river and seas for almost a moon now. Finally, Winterfell would remain their home for at least two years as Gaemon serve as page to Lord of Winterfell.
He sighed and walked towards the door and followed Ser Steffon's lead. They have been residing at the Great Keep. It was the innermost castle of Winterfell that had housed the members of House Stark and currently also held the members of House Targaryen.
Winterfell was certainly far larger castle than the Red Keep was, it was bigger than the citadel of Dragonstone. Kepa had argued that Harrenhal was far bigger than Winterfell, though he does not remember it.
Despite the cold outside, Gaemon had felt naught but warmth since they had arrived.
"Ser," Gaemon called him out, the knight glanced at him, "have you settled in your chambers?"
"Aye, my prince, I was giving quarters alongside the Household Guard at Guards Hall, must say the quarters are larger than the one at White Sword Tower." Ser Steffon chuckled, "at least, I do not have to hear Cole's snoring."
That had amused Gaemon as he looked at the knight who had a wry smile on his face, "I am sure Ser Criston is not that bad."
Ser Steffon snorted at his defense, "listening to the man snore makes you wonder if the Kraken's have assaulted the capital."
Gaemon raised his brows, "How would you know how a kraken would sound?" He pointed.
At that Ser Steffon looked at him and smirked, "All you have to do is listen to Ser Criston snore my prince."
That made Gaemon laughed, "why Ser Steffon all this time I had never thought of you to make a jape."
"Give me a warm hearth and warm food and I will turn myself into a bloody jester" Ser Steffon replied and at that they both laughed.
They descended down the narrow stairs and walked out of the Great Keep. The castles were tall and dark and the servants were moving around.
"Where is my father?" Gaemon inquired.
Ser Steffon sighed, "He had left early with your Uncle Rickon and his wife. I suspect that they will meet us at Great Hall."
As they approached the Great Hall, Gaemon glanced at Morin Forell, the Bravoosi Waterdancer that kepa had hired to train him alongside other Targaryen guards. Unlike Ser Steffon, the Waterdancer looked discomforted by the coldness of Winterfell.
Septa Noelle had seemed out of place as well as she walked into the Great Hall. She was training Gaemon on the Faith of the Seven. She was wearing a white robe customary to the septa with the seven stranded belts of different colors. Noelle had served as his Governess in Dragonstone and had been part of his retinue ever since then. She was rather young woman and was far more graceful in her looks. Ever since Gaemon had arrived North, she had felt out of place among Northmen. White Harbor still had a sept and the Manderly followed the Seven. Gaemon might just be the second Lord of the North to invite Faith of the Seven. Keeping that in mind, she seemed like she was an outsider.
As they entered the Great Hall, Gaemon glanced at his father who had been busy conversing with Lord Bolton. His father was wearing dark red tunic with a chain holding his golden cloak. His long silver hair was combed and refined and wore his royal circlet. Gaemon caught a glimpse at the hilt of Dark Sister. He had seemed to be in stern conversation with Lord Bolton, but his son Rogar caught sight of Gaemon approaching which broke the conversation apart.
Seeing his son approaching, Prince Daemon let out a soft smile, "Ahh Ser Steffon, it gladdens me that you were not lost bringing my son."
The knight nodded, "Aye my prince."
Gaemon approached his father and maintain his princely mask on, "Father". He greeted his father and then turned to the Boltons, "my Lords".
Lord Bolton had soft and pasty skin. Compared to his father, his face was far too plain. He was a short and slender man, but his eyes were pale in comparison and something about it made Gaemon uncomfortable. Compared to other Northern lords, he was soft-spoken and mild mannered. His son Rogar was the opposite for it, he was ten and two and was more built and stronger compared to his father. Unlike, his father Rogar was loud and brazen like other Northern lords that he had met. If it had not been for his pale eyes Gaemon would have doubted if the man was a Bolton.
Oddly enough, Gaemon had found the company of the Bolton heir to be likeable. His Uncle Rickon had not liked that notion one bit. Grandmaester Runciter had taught him that the Bolton and Starks have had bitter rivalry. The fool in the excitement of teaching had also told how Bolton men wore the skins of dead Starks. Hearing that caused Gaemon to have nightmares which had only been assuaged by the warm embrace and sweet words of Muna Gael.
His father looked at him and had a faint smirk on his lips, "is something amiss?"
It was at that Lord Bolton answered, "oh nothing of sorts my prince," he replied softly as his ghostly pale gaze assessed him. Gaemon had spoken to his father about the Boltons and specifically of the Bolton heir, "I was merely thanking Prince Daemon for speaking with Lord Rickon to have my son Rogar fostered alongside you".
Take a look at them, listen to their words, sense their emotions, his father had said and that is what he did. Lord William Bolton had a calculated look of him while Rogar was more malleable, bit of a dolt that could be influenced and loyal to a fault. Most importantly, the heir had friends amongst the sons of Hornwood, Locke and the lands surrounding Moat Cailin. More importantly, Rogar Bolton had blood ties to Dustins of Barrowtown. He had reminded Gaemon of the squires that would oft fight at the yard and angered at words because of their pride.
When Gaemon told his father about that, he only smirked and nodded. "You seem assured of it, very well. I will have words with Stark and see to it that he is fostered in Winterfell alongside you."
Gaemon looked at Rogar who seemed to have a grateful look on his face, "think nothing of it my Lord. If I am to be Prince of the North, then it aught to be my responsibility to know of the lord and the heirs of the North."
A mere smirk was noticed on Lord Bolton's face which disappeared, "well said."
"I thank you my prince and I shall see to it that you are welcomed amongst North," Rogar Bolton replied in an earnest manner.
With that, they had both departed and Gaemon was left with his father.
Gaemon turned to his father, "What did Uncle say?"
The conversation in High Valyrian had been his father's idea, he stared at him and then gave a mirthful smile, "a handful of curses, disdainful looks and disagreement. However, in the end he agreed provided that he brings few sons of his own friends as well."
They both looked at his Uncle Rickon and his wife Lady Gilliane dressed in furs approaching. The steward began announcing the names as his father placed a hand on Gaemon's shoulder, "be careful with them Gaems, they are plain, too stupid and are not afraid to mince harsh, too brusque."
Gaemon nodded, "I will kepa".
--
The day that Gaemon had fretted had finally come. Today was the day, when his father would depart South to fight a war. It had been a week since the feast, his father had meant to depart soon but snows had hindered his plans.
The feast had been success for both Gaemon and his father. Gaemon had made friends along with Rogar and Wyllard Hornwood. Gaemon also spoke with Roderick Dustin, younger brother to Lord Alaric Dustin, who was known as Roddy the Ruin amongst Northmen. The man was too gruff as a Northman but was honest to a fault.
"You are a boy with a dragon, but the North needs a man of the steel and you will not be one until you become someone without that beast hovering over you."
Those were the words that Roderick Dustin had given had advised. Fortunately, it was his uncle Bennard who interceded on his behalf and praised Gaemon's knowledge of the North. He had indeed surprised the Lord when he talked about how Lord Roderick's namesake, Roderick Stark had wrestled the driftwood King Loron Greyjoy to claim Bear Islands. At that, the man had become more receptive to Gaemon.
By the end of the feast, the man was drunk and swore to Old Gods that he will ask for his brother's leave to train Gaemon while he remains in Winterfell. That had meant to Gaemon much more, because Roderick Dustin had been a renown warrior in North and the heir to Barrowtown since his brother had no children.
The day was far brighter than the standard day in the North. The grey of the cloud had turned blue and he could actually feel a hint of sun's warmth. The towers of Winterfell had still looked grim, yet the servants were actively moving along as there were men of arms readying to march South.
'Winter Wolves', his Uncle Rickon had called. They were mostly grizzled greybeards who had seem to wore old mails and ragged skins. When they had arrived at Winterfell, his father had almost burst into laughter. It was until their skills were tested in the training yards that he decided to take them more seriously. They had fought with axes, mauls, spiked maces and iron swords.
"It is custom in the North for older men to leave their homes. It is not winter yet, but they still prefer leaving their homes so that younger ilk could preserve the supplies that would be used by them." His uncle Rickon had explained.
They had numbered in five hundred men who had come from the Stark, Cerwyn, Hornwood and Bolton lands. There were still five hundred more that would be arriving at White Harbor.
The Winter Wolves were old and grizzed greybeards for certain, but Gaemon noted that they had fought with the ferocity of five men. At least that is what his father had told him. They will need better armors for certain, but they will make do for vanguard.
Gaemon pushed the ironwood door that was located in between the oldest part of the First Keep and the lichyard. The servant had told him that his father had visited the crypts to say farewell to his mother. He slowly descended the narrow stone stairways and entered a large cavernous vault. Uncle Rickon had taken him to visit his mother two days before which was why he was aware of the path that needs to be taken.
He walked past through the grave of Old Kings of Winter. Large stone direwolves were curled at their feets and they held Iron swords on one hand. The crypt had comprised mostly of Old Kings who had ruled the North before Targaryen had came forth.
He finally arrived at the destination that he was looking for. Gaemon spotted his father looking at the stone carved statue of his mother Lyanna. It had stood next to his grandfather Lord Benjen and Lord Ellard.
His father had torch on one hand and the other held his winged helm. The ruby that belonged on the hilt of Dark Sister was reflecting by the flames of the torch. Gaemon could tell that he had seemed sad as he turned to see him approaching.
Kepa gave him a sad smile, "Come" he whispered.
Gaemon hesitated at first, but slowly approached him. As Gaemon approached, he placed the torch by the handle next to his mother's crypt. The hallway at the other end was considerably dark. Once his father placed the torch, he placed his hand on his shoulder as they both looked at her mother's grave.
"It does not look like her," his father finally spoke.
The stoned statue had looked sad, but she still wore a smile on her face.
"What did she look like?" Gaemon asked.
"She was never sad, when she was with me. Lya had always been intrigued with the South. She was always fascinated by the games that were played in the court. It amused me when a Southern Knight would attempt to court her and her bluntness would turn them into blabbering fools," Daemon chuckled as he ruffled Gaemon's hair.
"There is a lot of her in you, my son" Daemon whispered as he knelt to face him. Gaemon realized that he had grown taller than his father when he was kneeling.
"When you had come to me to tell me of your intentions to befriend Rogar Bolton, I saw the courage that your mother possessed," his father muttered as he looked at him teary eyed.
"I always thought that, I got that thinking from you," Gaemon whispered.
"Perhaps it is both of us that resides in you and that is what makes you better. Though I would have considered the Northmen as backwater savages, but you see the importance in them just as much as I did in those Winter Wolves. That comes from Lyanna and I am so glad of that Gaems," his father said in a broken voice.
"I wished I had remained here to see you become a man she would be proud off" Daemon said as he turned to look at his mother's statue.
"Then why don't you?" Gaemon asked in a pleading tone.
His father shook his head, "as much as I wish to do so, my path belongs in South. My Kingly brother has seen to it that I will have no influence in the court. I cannot find that here, nor will I find it in Dragonstone. This war is my way to show that Daemon Targaryen does not quiver around whims and wishes of his brother."
His expression had hardened at the mention of his Uncle King Viserys. He was still bitter about the fight that they had have.
"But you could get hurt in war," Gaemon muttered.
Kepa softened his gaze at his words, "Do you think Caraxes would let any harm come upon me?"
His question was meant as a jape and Gaemon had not liked it. His father must have noticed his unease as he spoke to him, "I want you to listen to me Gaemon, I do not know what the future has in hold for us. I may be hurt or something worse shall happen, or maybe nothing will happen at all, but we cannot remain tied by the bonds of the past. I love your mother as much as I love you right now, but she now a writing of the past. The ink that had writ that has become dry and now we cannot do naught but move forward."
He placed his helm in the side of the crypt and cupped his cheeks with his gloved hands, "our journeys are our own now and we will live to make the most of it. I may not write to you every time, I may not be there with you but know this anything and everything that I do, it is for you. When I win this war and bloody the isles of Stepstones, it will be for you hmm."
Tears were blurring Gaemon's vision but he nodded at that as his father hugged him tightly. His metal armor was cold, but oddly he found comfort in it.
"You may hear tales of me, tales that might be unsavory, tales that may paint me a monster and tales may inspire fear. You never need to fear from me Gaems."
Gaemon shook his head as he sniffled as he removed the tears of his eyes by his sleeves to stare at him, "I care not of the tales others say. I always hear the tales of the heroes of old. Aegon the Dragon, Serwyn of the Mirror Shield or Roderick Stark, but you are my hero kepa. You are Prince Daemon Targaryen, the son of a dragon, the rider of Caraxes, the wielder of Dark Sister, if anyone dare speak ill of you, I will see to it that they are fed to Vermithor."
His father was surprised by his words and sense of determination and vigor. The surprised look on his face turned to pride and laughter as he brought his forehead to his, "I am glad to hear it, you are blood of the dragon Gaemon, never forget it."
And Gaemon will see to it that his words are never forgotten. They did not share any words after as they walked to Godswood where Caraxes had been waiting for him. Vermithor was flying in the sky by the Wolfswood. Gaemon maintained his stiff posture as his tears had dried out. He ended up standing next to Lord Rickon and Bennard who were greeting his father.
After saying his farewell, he walked towards the Bloodwyrm. He had put on his winged helm and the golden cloak was waving in the wind as his back was turned against them. He slowly climbed on to the saddle and gave the command for Caraxes to fly. As his father and his dragon grew distant, Gaemon closed his eyes. Their roads may have parted but in the end they will lead to same castle.
Notes:
Next Chapter
- We get a look at Moat Cailin as Gaemon arrives there.
- A quick glimpse into the happenings of King's Landing as Gael reminds that she is a Targaryen Princess and not the mewling little sheep that she had been in the book.
-The chapter after that will be a time jump as Gaemon and Rhaenyra will grow up.
The next update will be for Prince of Winter.