Dance of Ice and Fire
schrutfarms
Chapter 10: Chapter 10
Summary:
Gaemon arrives at Moat Cailin
Notes:
It is a smaller chapter compared to previous one's. I originally wanted to show a POV from King's Landing but felt that i would reserve it for the future after Time Jump.
This is another of the Gaemon-centric chapter.
I wanted to do certain scenes but felt that it would be a bit too OOC for someone of Gaemon's age to do so.
By the way, have recently made a tumblr, feel free to follow me @aegonstarksblog
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Bennard
Moat Cailin – First Moon of 107 AC
Their retinue had been traversing through the King's Road for almost a fortnight. Bennard was a son of North and yet even now, he still had a hard time grasping how big the North really was.
The lands were filled with snow and woods when they had left Winterfell, but when they came towards the Barrowland, the land turned from forest to open plains.
"North is our home boy, it is duty of a Stark to know its woods, know it's barrows, know the Wall, know the mountains," his father Benjen had said. It was right before they had decided to go to the Capital to discuss Jon's abduction.
Bennard had been naught but a young boy when Prince Daemon had arrived at Winterfell to visit Lyanna's crypt.
He had lived in the Red Keep as a ward of Crown and more importantly so that he could remain an influence upon his nephew.
Bennard had seen her son grow up along with the other Princesses. He was raised under the supervision of Maesters and Grandmaesters as a Prince, yet Bennard heard the snickers and the mockery in the back.
"Bastard"
"Another of Prince Daemon's conquest, wonder how many of runts has he sired upon at Flea Bottom," a squire would mock.
With how protective Daemon was off his son, Bennard was certain that if he were to hear about the whispers about Gaemon, he would have fed them to his dragon. Bennard, though, had other intentions.
He was always a lanky boy compared to the other squires there, but he was smarter compared to them. Being with Lyanna, he had always learned a trick or two from her about pranking. One day they were fine, the next day they were shitting the breeches not able to perform. Bennard had seen to it that every single day after they would suffer, either in the sparring yard while dealing with bad stomach or no sleep. It was a trick that Lyanna had thought him to fill the bed with sheep shit and stitching the clothing back in.
It was there that Bennard learned something about himself, while Rickon and Daemon might be mighty warriors who would incur the wrath of gods upon those who wronged them, while Bennard was petty.
His skill at arms had certainly improved since his return in Winterfell, but he would prefer to disarm his enemies with his guile rather than a sword.
Bennard eyed at the three Old Towers of Moat Cailin. Once it had been a stronghold of the North with curtain walls as big as the one's in the Winterfell.
Yet now, the Moat of the Old was gone and it was replaced by a completely new holding with the finest pale marble stones made from the quarry of the east and transported from the newly built port that would fall under Gaemon's lands.
The broken curtain walls have been remade and the black stone of old have paved way to white one. His father who had been at the inception of the building had told him and Rickon that they had obtained a loan from the Crown to oversee the trade with the Free Cities.
It was said that Prince Baelon Targaryen had also made overtures to these lands during the time of its inception. Builders from the North, Valyrian Builders of Old, and stone carvers had worked days and nights to bring this castle to life. Thousands upon Thousands had worked upon this and now the construct was almost at its completion.
Bennard turned to his nephew whose mismatched eyes were taking in the magnanimity of his new home. He wore woolen tunic with finest furs that were ordered by Bennard before his arrival. His tunic was colored dark red while the fur cloak was grey. He could not help but see a boy of North, blood of First Men in him. His hair was perfectly combed and tied in the back while on the top of his head laid a circlet to signify his title of a Prince. Gaemon looked more of a Stark than a Targaryen in his appearance.
A roar disrupted his musing as a shadow passed over Bennard and it was that of Gaemon's dragon. Any thoughts of Gaemon being more of a Stark were driven away by the Bronze Fury. Vermithor, its' name was and the only rider before Gaemon was King Jaehaerys.
Bennard recalled fools of North and South crying in both awe and fear that his nephew had mounted Old King's dragon. The North men were rather excited by the perspective while those in the South were more suspicious.
Both his and Gaemon's horse grew nervous at the sound of the loud roar of the Dragon. Gaemon's mare was a brown one, not as big as few of the desertiers that were in the stable, but his nephew had taken a liking to it.
The two moons that he had remained in Winterfell, Bennard would take him riding to Wolfswood. At first, his nephew would be nervous when riding a horse. Though it could be possible because the roads in the north were not as fine and polished as it were in the south. However, Gaemon grew to riding quickly.
Currently he was gently caressing his horse and adjusting his reigns to make sure that the mare is not too discomforted. The dragon would scarcely spend time within the walls of Winterfell; it would rather fly in the sky and remain in the woods. The men patrolling would see smoke coming from woods at the time and outriders would often report burned grounds within the woods.
It had only been a fortnight before they left Winterfell when they reported that the dragon had found a cave to reside. Gaemon had insisted upon riding with them to visit his dragon. His lessons as a Lord and a prince would oft keep him busy. Bennard would often find his nephew looking at the sky yearning to fly though he would do a fine job to keep that to himself.
"You are doing fine with her nephew," Bennard noted as Gaemon caressed his mare who had seemed to be calming down.
Gaemon gave him a soft smile that would remind Bennard of Lyanna, "she has grown used to my touch, and it is only so much I could do to convince that Vermithor is not trying to eat her."
Bennard grinned, "I wonder if I could say the same of the horses brought by other men."
Gaemon looked at the other men in the company, there were carts and wheelhouses and fifty of Stark men and his nephew's retinue that had travelled along for this overture.
"As long as your men remember to stay away from the dragon, it will not bother you and the men, Lord Stark," replied Ser Steffon who had dawned his famed white armor and cloak. His voice was echoing through the helm.
"And what if the dragons grow hungry? What then?" Bennard inquired. In King's Landing, they had resided in Dragon's Pit under the supervision of the Dragon Guards that would tend to their food and needs.
"Pray that the dragon doesn't find you or the Northmen then," Ser Steffon replied, but Bennard could tell the man meant it as a jape.
Gaemon decided to interrupt before Bennard could retort, "you do not need to worry Uncle, the men in our retinue are well versed in tending to Vermithor's needs. Once I settle myself here, I shall take the charge of taking care of Vermithor myself."
It was response like these that made Bennard love the boy even more, there was generosity in his voice that could not be feigned that easily. The earnest response made him smile.
"If you say so nephew," Bennard grinned.
The towers of Moat Cailin were now casting a shadow over their retinue; the cold winds that had bothered them on the road and in the woods were being negated by the sunrise. The grim bogs and trees of the Neck were now overshadowed. They moved towards a smaller road that led to the castle. These roads were far murkier and more ill-equipped compared to the one's in King's Road.
Bennard turned his back and noted the wheel houses and the carts turning as well. The path to the castle was a road uphill. Bennard noted that the men had worked recently to clear the snows from the path.
The construct of Moat Cailin had been simple, the curtain walls that were once of great black basalt still laid around the Southern end. The three towers of the old were at the Southern End of the wall and did a fine job in creating a chokepoint to anyone entering from the causeway with ill-intentions.
The moat by the causeway had cleared off the lizard lions if the last reports were certain, yet there were still parts of it that had some present. Bennard still recalled the first few years, men had died and became a fodder to the lizard lions lurking within the Moat. The green moss and white ghost skin that had once infested the three towers were removed.
The curtain walls that once used to be as tall as the one's in Winterfell now spanned above thirty feet in height. The walls were rising in different places, with the highest point going up to forty feet. Unlike Winterfell, which had the luxury of having an inner and outer wall? The keep of Moat Cailin had only while out of the seven towers that was meant to be constructed; three of them were complete and ready. One was at the western end, the other at the Southern end providing solidified wooden planks leading to the refined old Towers.
Gaemon's keep had lands covered for more than three acres in land which was smaller than Winterfell, but bigger than the Red Keep. The Great Keep lied in the center which was raised in a cylindrical manner with extensions in the side. It rose up to fifty feet in height and the length is smaller than the Great Keep.
Of all the towers and the walls, the main keep of Moat Cailin was the first tower to complete. Before his father had passed, he had seen to it that the men work on that first before they do so on the other towers.
From the distance, it looked like a massive drum but as one would approach closer the extensions would be far more visible in appearance.
"This is so big," Gaemon noted as his eyes examined the walls and the lands.
"I am in awe that they were able to finish the construct so quickly," Ser Steffon noted as well.
"Men have labored day and night here and were guided by the help of the Crannogmen. Were it not for them, not even a tower would have been completed with such haste," Bennard said as they approached the gates of the castle.
They spotted men settlements that were established, they were constructs of wood with thatched roof on the top. More than twenty to thirty houses were being made on the western side by the King's Road. There were certain houses that extended to four floors, the constructs reminded Bennard of the Flea Bottom in King's Landing minus the stench.
"Is that settlement new?" Gaemon pointed at it.
Bennard looked at it, "Aye, the builders, the masons and the men who are working in this keep reside there."
Gaemon looked at them as Bennard could hear the shouts of the children playing and smoke coming out of some of the houses.
"When I was in Dragonstone, my father told me how Maegor treated the men who had built the Red Keep for them," Gaemon looked around at the men working on the construct.
Every boy in the seven Kingdom were vary of Maegor's cruelty. When the construction of the Red Keep was done, the King had held a feast for the men. Wine flew, bards sang and the feast was held and the day after Maegor killed every single man involved in the construct of the Red Keep. Only Maegor would know the secret passages of the Red Keep.
Yet the way, Gaemon uttered the memories of Maegor disconcerted Bennard. His nephew must have noted that as well to which he smirked, "fret not Uncle, I have no intentions of killing these men. Only those who would dare to betray me."
When Gaemon said those words, it reminded him awfully of Daemon Targaryen. The devious smirk that he held was reminiscent of the Rogue Prince of King's Landing.
Bennard moved his horse towards his nephew, "you should be careful when you uttered those words Gaemon, the lords do not take kindly to cruelty."
Gaemon looked at him as he grew a second head, "didn't Winter Kings of Old resort to cruelty when they killed Gaven Greywolf and his kin? Didn't the Red Kings resort to wearing skins of the dead Starks?"
Bennard was surprised by this information, "you have been learning the history I see."
"The libraries of Winterfell are rather useful. The stories about Bolton had taken my sleep for some time. I had half a mind on setting Vermithor upon Rogar but the dolt cares more about his sword rather than the cloak he would wear. I have no intention of being a monster Uncle, but I will not be a fool to forgive betrayal," Gaemon said with a determination Bennard had not known he had.
Gone was the boy that would often sneak up to Bennard in desire to get sweets or who wished to be carried upon his shoulders. There was an edge in his tone that befitted the kings and Prince of their station.
"Since when did my nephew grow up?" Bennard asked him in an inquisitive but an amusing manner.
Yet there was no amusement in Gaemon as he looked at the approaching gates of his keep.
"Since I parted my way with my father with a promise to be a better man and a prince than him," Gaemon patted his mare to push forth leaving Bennard behind. The King's Guard followed him behind and as did the bannermen of House Targaryen and Stark. It had seemed that the roar of Vermithor had already alerted Gaemon's arrival as the men who were working on the tower stopped to look at their prince approaching.
--
"I must say, I was not expecting you to be here so soon Bennard," responded Jonos Reed. He was a stout man with a dusty brown hair, pointy nose and shoulders slouched. He had been his father's Benjen companion. He wore brown and green jerkin with a small weirwood brooch that was placed by his chest.
He was cousin to Lord Reed of Grey Water Watch but never liked being there. He had been one of the first Reed to foster in Winterfell since Aegon's conquest of Westeros. There was flint knife on his waist and a bastard sword sheathed within scabbard.
Bennard wondered if the man ever used it, he had served as the castellan of Moat Cailin who had overseen the construction of the Keep.
"The roads were not as troublesome as I would have thought, it would seem as if the Old Gods willed us to be here post haste," Bennard replied. Jonos had a wry smile on his face; if there ever had been septon who would teach the sermons of Old Gods then Jonos would have been just that.
The man worshipped the Old Gods as if it were his own mother.
Jonos turned his green eyes towards Gaemon, "mayhap the Old Gods willed for their winter prince after all."
Gaemon was dismounted from his mare and caressed her mane, "there is a lot of Lyanna in him, I see."
"Aye, his father had been here?" Bennard asked and Jonos turned to speak to him.
"Aye, colorful man that," Jonos and Bennard slowly walked towards the stable where Gaemon was sharing words with the Braavosi Waterdancer.
"Threatened me to work with haste, examined every nook and cranny of the castle to make sure there were no mistakes, and almost turned himself into a kinslayer when his maester kin argued with him. He stayed for two days but it felt like two moons," Jonos chuckled, "though in the end, he showered gold and was generous and promised to deliver more who saw that work was done well."
Daemon had been just that, Bennard mused. The man showed one face to his perceived friends and another to his enemies which was why he was reveled and reviled by many.
"He took Northmen to fight his war," Bennard stated.
"Aye, so I have heard, something about a man with a dragon and a shiny Valyrian Steel sword does inspire loyalty, even though it is not their war to fight," Jonos said as they came close.
"Add that to a son who is half Stark," a young voice interrupted their conversation.
Bennard looked at its direction and noted it was Gaemon who had a guarded look.
"My prince," Jonos bowed.
Gaemon nodded, "my father is fighting a war so the realms of Westeros do not suffer the injustice of the three daughters," said Gaemon in his father's defense. Bennard could tell that Gaemon did not like Jonos's tone when it had come to his father.
Jonos realized that as well, "forgive me my prince, I have lived much of my life in the bogs and the North, I have not been abreast with the wars outside of it."
Gaemon must have sensed the hint of lie in Jonos's tone, "then mayhap we both could learn from each other Lord Jonos. You could tell me more of my home and my lands and I can share my knowledge of the affairs of the realms."
Jonos looked at Gaemon as if he was assessing him and nodded, "I would be glad to tell you more of your lands my Prince. If you would follow me to the Great Keep, I shall lead you to your chambers."
Gaemon looked at his retinue and saw the men approaching the gates, "very well."
They slowly walked the muddied path towards the Great Keep in the center. The Keep was in an elevated position and the men were slowly walking behind as they looked around.
Jonos went ahead to explain the construction and the timeline by which the work could be completed. "Setting up a base had been a great impediment in the beginning. The lands were infested with bogs and lizard lions. Men died to clear that out and the Old towers were cleared of the moss and ghost skin as well. Once the base work and the digging were complete, it had been an easy task to erect the towers. With the pace by which we are working, you can expect the fourth tower by the Southwest edge to be erect and ready for use."
The oaken doors of the Great Keep opened up as their retinue entered. The steps were wide enough to have five people walk by the side. Jonos went on talk about the settlements being erected by the castle and the harbor. Bennard noted that his nephew taking note of the words that were being said, but he seemed to be taking in the Great Keep.
Bennard poked Gaemon to ensure that he was paying attention, "I heard him."
They finally entered the Main hall which had a large oaken table in the end with four chairs lifted up and noticed few figures in the center. Two of them wore grey cloaks and had chains that suggested that they were maesters but while one of them had chains, another was equipped with more jewelry. He had a mask of Yellow gold, and a rod on the side.
He lifted the mask to reveal his face and it showed his long face and silver-gold hair and purple eyes. His face was unfriendly and stern. By his facial appearance, the maester seemed to be of at least sixty years old.
Archmaester Vaegon, Bennard realized. The maester next to him was Maester Ormund, the one that had been assigned by the citadel. There was Quentyn Bogg who had been named as a steward by his father upon Jonos's recommendation. The staunch and tall man to his left who had a scar on his face was Beron Flint. He had been named Master of Arms and was responsible for forming a working garrison.
The servants were standing behind them and as Gaemon walked towards them, they knelt in service of their prince.
His nephew frowned as he walked forward, "Rise," he commanded.
Gaemon turned to look at Jonos, "were they not taught of the protocols when greeting a royal prince?"
Jonos looked uncertain but Ser Steffon stepped forward and continued, "This is the prince of Royal blood. The protocol dictates that those serving him greet their prince outside in the courtyard and not in the Great Hall."
Now that Bennard thought of it, he was surprised by this act of negligence by Jonos who defended, "my apologies my prince, this was an oversight in my part."
Bennard wanted to say more, but he kept it to himself. Jonos had always been aware of his duties.
However, Gaemon seemed displeased by his response, "this excuse is not sufficient Lord Jonos. Will you give the same excuse when the King decides to show up in this keep?"
"But the king is not here, is he now?" a sour voice answered back, it was that of the Archmaester Vaegon.
The archmaester's tone was not appreciated, "no, but I am the lord of this land is and it is my duty to see to it that my men are knowledgeable in the necessary protocols. You ought to remember that well Archmaester."
He turned to look at the men present in the Hall, his mismatched eyes cold and fiery at the same time reminding Bennard of the bloodline he represents, "understand this and understand this well. My name is Gaemon Targaryen and I am the Prince of the North and Lord of these lands, you may not know me or like me but by the end you will respect me."
It was odd to hear a boy of nine name-days and will be reaching his ninth soon. Bennard had noted the change in Gaemon's character ever since his father left, but it almost seemed to him that the boy in him has died and the man has born.
Bennard had festered doubts on whether or not his nephew would fare well in the North, but looking at him now, he is certain that is nephew would do just well.
Notes:
The next will be a time jump set at 112 AC.
One of the canon divergences here is that the Tourney where Daemon returns is actually going to be in 112 AC instead of 111 AC as it was in canon. We will see the story expanding to King's Landing and even Step Stone.
The next update will be for Prince of Winter.