Chapter Three: Dreams Suck
The girl laying in bed was young, no more than twelve years old at the very most. She looked Valyrian with bright golden hair that was worn short and deep violet eyes that still looked half-glazed as she awoke and stretched an arm over her shoulder and surveyed her room.
It was more spartan than what she had grown accustomed to, the black walls were bare and the only things within beyond her comfortable if small bed was a small shelf filled with the tomes required in her instruction, a small desk, a tool, a small wardrobe for her possessions and an urn for her necessities.
She smiled at the plain room.
"You asked for this Gaema," she said to herself in the tongue of the Freehold. "Cannot afford to have regrets now."
She climbed out of bed before stumbling over the one item in her room that she had forgotten about.
"Sorry my dear," she murmured as she pulled himself up and turned to the small dragon which had been curled up at the foot of her bed.
For his part, the viridian infant merely eyed her with annoyance as it uncurled and stretched like a cat might. After which he very deliberately crawled up to her and deliberately whipped his tail against her shin. The blow was carefully weighed from experience to neither cause any true damage nor be mistaken as a caress.
Despite herself she laughed through the pain and rubbed her shin, "very fair."
Not for the first time she was grateful to have claimed the dragon she possessed now. Qelos was a large part of why she had been allowed to come here, cunning more akin to a human and controlled movements were prized characteristics for the Order.
After recovering from her retaliation, Gaema moved to her small cupboard and recovered her pants, shirt, shoes and specially crafted smock. Despite their quality it was a decidedly plain look and not for the first time was annoyed by having to put on clothing more befit to a barbarian. Still, for what she sought to gain she would gladly give an arm or two, a sacrifice or two were in order.
Once she felt presentable she left her room, Qelos striding patiently along beside her. She took small steps to match his pace, her instructors would demand such efforts.
If you and your dragon cannot be as one, then you are wasting both our time and your own. Those had been their words.
As she walked down the sweeping corridors she looked beyond the opened walls and out into the majesty of Akte, southernmost of the cities of the central freehold.
It was not Valyria herself but Akte was beautiful in its own right, crystal blue-green water and white sands against a cityscape of dyed blackstone and sandstone. Spiraling towers of emerald, crimson, blue and so many other colors made the city seem like a bouquet of exotic flowers blooming at the shores of a tropical beach.
Although the city's central citadel itself which she now called home was in her own opinion the most beautiful sight of the city. Oros Akte was girded in fused stone rising to top the great volcano in a crown of towers, both mountain and fortress in a way that no other work could ever truly be. Flows of the blood of gods tended and shaped into poems of as they soared downward into the vast stone wells at the mount's base to be curled back up the mount. Great likenesses of ancient heroes and Hammers stood in tiers as if to dare any to deny the greatness of her home.
Yet that was not why she was there, that was not why merchant ships and men from all corners of the world came to Akte. Akte may be fifth or perhaps sixth in the ranks of the wealthy cities of Valyria but it was fourth in in the number of dragonriders present and no lord or lady of the forty would be held as sane unless they have brought their sons and daughters here.
For it was only here in Oros Akte that the Order she would someday join dwelled, it was only here that the legendary spell-steel of Valyria was forged.
Lands of the Long Summer 780 BC
…
Eighth Day of the Third Month, 109 AC.
I blinked at the roof of my room, well that was still a thing. Visions… great.
As I pulled myself up and rubbed my face I mauled over my dream.
They had started not long after Runciter began his reading. They had been sporadic at first and vague enough to dismiss. But they have grown in frequency and clarity to the degree that I could not dismiss them anymore.
So that meant three options.
One, I was crazy. Which was surprisingly enough not the worst thing in the world, in Westeros where everyone was crazy it might actually relax me a little.
Two, I was having Dragon Dreams. I doubted that one since the visions were clear, increasingly clear in fact whereas documented examples I could recall were either plagued by weird visions or just had profoundly unhelpful dreams.
Which left three, whatever put me here threw me a life jacket. Which was good if so but made me wary of why whatever it was would want to help me.
In any case I was seeing glimpses of a different life, the life of a young dragonrider seeking an apprenticeship with whoever it was that made Valyrian Steel. If (and that is a big if) the visions were legitimate, then I could potentially have a very powerful bargaining chip.
That would present its own problems however. Most of the visions seemed to go through the basics of smithing and training with her dragon. I had never heard of a Westerosi noble going anywhere near a forge much less dedicating themselves to the craft and I knew enough about bladesmithing and armoring to know that it was not exactly something you could do in secret.
There was also the dragon issue, I would need not only an irregularly smart one (Qelos already showed more intellect and cooperation than Barth even posited as possible) but a fairly young one. Great.
In the meantime I was still a freaking two-year-old.
More importantly I was a weird two-year-old.
I scrambled out of my bed after some stretching. I had already heard the servant murmuring on more than one occasion.
The child never cries.
The child always smiles.
Then child does not have the eyes of an infant.
As it turned out I was pretty miserable at pretending to be a baby. Never would have thought that to be a negative before…
My attempt to sigh was broken off by a sneeze. That was probably not great, but I dismissed it, if I had a cold then I what would be would be.
I could plan around a dragon but to the best of my knowledge no one at court rode around a mountain of bacteria.
I made my way to the little chair in my room and picked up one of the tomes from the top of the ever-increasing pile next to it and sat down to wait for Nessa.
Fortunately it seemed that people were taking my behaviour in two very different lights.
Certainly some people did not take it well, some of the servants seemed downright terrified of me. Not unfair to be certain if a little hurtful. It came as no surprise that the most relevant figure that expressed that attitude was Ser Criston, may the Seven push him down a flight of stairs.
Most however seemed to take it in stride, probably because I have not shown very many creepy child symptoms like not communicating or anything Joffrey ever did.
In particular I seemed popular with my nannies, the grand maester and my sister. The nannies seemed to dote on me as they rarely showed up without treats anymore and almost seemed to teleport to my side whenever I needed something, got hungry or fell down. Maybe it was because I was nowhere near the pain in the neck as my now clearly fraternal twin (we were both stocky, but my features seemed decidedly less sulky) or maybe it was because I went out of my way to be independent of them. Nessa, Eylsei and Giane in particular were by far the warmest to me.
The Grand Maester perhaps unsurprisingly was singing high praises of a child which seemed to be developing both rapidly and with an academic bend. He made continual efforts to add to my vocabulary, mouthing word repeatedly with me while I humored him by pretending to struggle to get them right (totally wasn't struggling with some of the syntax). I never got to know my grandparents all that well, so it was possible I was getting a bit attached to my sorta surrogate grandfather. Which sort of sucked since I knew he would not last long.
Rhaenyra as it turned out, was not much of a problem. Ser (hopefully flammable) Douche aside of course, may scorpions gather around his chamber pot.
I just needed to imitate the ideal little brother and suddenly I was her favorite person in the Keep by the looks of it. Granted the fact I decided that my 'first' word was going to be sister so that got me a few points. Always stroke a Targaryen's ego if you want to get anywhere with them it seemed.
Unfortunately there was a third camp, the 'could not care less' camp. This camp was dominated by both the king and the Lord Hand and much like the name would imply I seemed largely irrelevant to them.
We saw the king sparingly, once or twice a month which struck me as little surprise given that his existence was generally comprised of sloth, ignoring problems and being likable. He was essentially a version of Robert who either didn't feel the need to cheat on his wife or was at least far subtler about it. Honestly if it wasn't for his succession triggering an even worse calamity I would say that he should fake his death and go open a brewery somewhere.
As for the Lord Hand, he was quite clearly not altogether that interested in the spare for the time being which was surprising to me given how infant mortality worked in this world. Then again, he was probably busy digging himself into a ditch and complicating things for the entire family. This should be around the time when he finally pushed Visery's too hard and got his presumptuous ass kicked off the council after all. Given that I had yet to make much a ripple so far there seemed to be little need to think anything had changed in that regard.
There were other parties of course, faces in the court which I did not quite know by name because I did not have a perfect recollection of every piece of heraldry. I had identified the Strongs I was certain (namely because they were a suitably tall group of plain featured people with the right numbers) and I had a general idea of who was on the council. It was certainly worth knowing.
Any more thoughts were interrupted when Aegon awoke and began crying… joy of joys the child was an alarm clock with those surprisingly strong lungs.
Seventeenth Day of the Third Month, 109 AC.
I and Aegon were taken to our mother not long after waking, to be fair Alicent was hardly in moving condition.
As we entered he chamber and I beheld her greatly swollen belly I was somewhat concerned. She had been declared pregnant months ago and if Helaena was still born that could be trouble, butterflies were chaotic things and the same people should not logically be born.
She smiled at us as we entered led by our nannies. Have to give her points, her fine features were beautiful and matched her smile well.
"My sweet boys," she said as I walked up to her and a nanny brought Aegon forward.
"Mother," I said with a bright, toothy smile.
"Ma," Aegon murmured sulkily as he stretched his fat little arms towards her.
"Do not worry my little boys," she said as she tapped her belly lovingly. "Soon you will have another brother, mayhaps a sister."
"Brother?" I said happily as I tilted my head and smiled wider. I could only hope, if Helaena was still born then that had ominous implications about my ability to passively induce ripples. Helaena meant Aemon 'what is logic?' Targaryen.
"Yes, my dear," she said as she patted my head lovingly. "Another boy for house Targaryen."
I was slightly bothered by the tone of determination I head in her voice. Had it already begun? I had only seen her and Rhaenyra speak a few times and they did not seem hostile.
…
Seventeenth Day of the Forth Month, 109 AC.
"My lady, the king-"
"My father will have no objection," Rhaenyra said confidently as she led me down the halls of the Red Keep as Grand Maester Runciter marched behind her desperately. I could not fault him since I was more than a little nervous at what she planned, watching the old man struggle to keep up also had me worried about the old man's health.
"Princess, your brother is still far too young," Runciter said urgently, the old man had come running when the Nessa had gone to seek him after Rhaenyra announced her plan to take me to the Dragon Pit.
"The Archmaester is not wrong, your grace," Ser Criston added as he burned holes into the back of my head.
For once the knight had a point! Listen to him! Shove a speaker into his throat so that you can hear him better! Well, invent the prerequisite technology, make the thing and then listen to him before executing him!
"He is a Targaryen! I do not see the problem and you yourself said that he has taken to dragon's Grand Maester," few things were as annoying as a confident twelve-year-old with political power.
I liked the lore! And the occasional shadows launching from the dome and soaring through the sky.
I was not sure if I was excited or terrified.
"It is true that he shows a great deal of interest when I read from Barth, Your Grace. But this is dangerous," Runciter added hurriedly.
"You worry far too much Runciter," she was not about to be swayed.
"Sister? Dragons?" I said with genuine worry.
She turned and smiled broadly at me, "Yes Gaem, dragons! You will love them I am sure."
Damn my fondness for indulging children, "Dragon's, fire?"
"Yes, Gaem they spit great streams of fire. You will love it," so Rhaenyra wanted to kill me already huh? Then again, maybe she was just genuinely dumb enough to think this was a solid idea. That was a problem in and of itself.
We stopped at the courtyard where Rhaenyra loaded me into a litter before embarking herself and departing surrounded by gold cloaks.
"Where going?" I asked with fake curiosity and very real apprehension.
"The great stables of our house!" She said proudly then blinking, she simplified it, "A big house for dragons, Gaem. A big black house for all of our dragons."
Prison. I thought as we were transported across the foul-smelling city, you mean prison.
I was getting myself a dragon from Dragonstone, I could not afford physical stunting or worse, mental stunting if I was going to make Valyrian Steel. I could not fathom why Maegor built the stable in sharp defiance to all Valyrian tradition. Then again, knowing Maegor, he probably did it for some short-sighted and poorly thought out reason.
…
Seventeenth Day of the Forth Month, 109 AC.
I had to admit, it was worth the trip if not the danger.
From up close the dragon pit was magnificent. The massive dome was absurdly big (I was still preparing myself for whenever I saw something truly mad like the Rock or the Hightower) and covered beautifully carved murals illustrating scenes from the Conquest.
It was still an unbelievably big structure, more closely resembling a medieval themed football stadium than a fortress. The gates alone were cyclopean, thirty knights on horseback was a fairly abstract way of describing size but it severely understated the size of a gate which was meant for Balerion to easily pass through when the thing still lived.
As we entered the crime against practicality, I could already hear them. The sounds of roars, heavy breathing and growls, none of which I could match to any animal I had ever heard and much more unnerving.
We walked down cell after cell and I noticed that the garrisoned men here were of two types. There were the heavily armed men stationed near the gates, with their gleaming black-enameled breastplates and half-helms (a hefty investment in and of itself) with varying armament but there were also the men inside. They had little in the way of armor and many went without shirt, which was reasonable given the warmth within edifice (probably due to its inhabitant).
"Lady Rhaenys!" Rhaenyra said with a happy shout as she raced forward to the advancing figure while dragging me along.
Given the impossibility of the conquerors wife still being alive I was left to conclude that she could only be one person.
Rhaenys Velaryon, the Queen Who Never Was. The woman was about in her mid-thirties and a damned stunner, it was not the beauty of her fine, valyrian features. Nor the was silver locks were tied into a knot nor even her body which seemed neither waifish nor fat nor weak but actually more like a sprinter's build. It was the confidence and slight swagger she walked with, the way one side of her mouth was perpetually crooked upwards which with the gleam in her eyes made it seem as if she was daring the world to try and fuck with her. In riding clothes, she looked like she could be surrounded by twenty armed knights and say 'come at me b***h!'
I was glad that Rhaenyra was dragging me along or I would just be frozen in place with my jaw hanging open.
"Rhaenyra! Come here girl!" She said as she picked up Rhaenyra and twirling her up in the air. "It's been too long!"
Wait…
Why was she here? Wasn't she supposed to be in High Tide or something?
I was a bit too confused to notice her put Rhaenyra down and stare at me with an arched brow.
"And who is this lad?" She said while crouching down in front of me and ruffling my hair.
"This would be my dear brother, Gaemon!" Rhaenyra introduced me happily. "He's never seen a dragon before."
I bowed as best I could which earned a chuckle from female-Kamina. "Ah, the little lad is as clever as the rumors then. Still," she turned to Rhaenyra with a disapproving look. "He is too young to be here girl, you should not go risking your little brother."
"He is a Targaryen!" Rhaenyra said as if that was a full-proof argument. "He should see a dragon, at least Syrax!"
Rhaenys laughed, "You just want to show off your dragon, girl!"
Rhaenyra had the decency to blush brightly as her cover was blown. Well that explained that. Rhaenys looked at Rhaenyra's sworn protector.
"You should control your charge better, good Ser," she smiled at him but her tone carried a reprimand.
"It is not my place to command," Ser Criston bristled the condemnation, which obviously pleased me almost as much as the idea of the man combusting. Now if only a dragon had suddenly broken freely and eaten him, I would have called it a good day.
"Just to protect," Rhaenys rebutted before dismissing the knight from her perception and refocusing on us.
"Well come on now, no use making the trip and seeing nothing," she said, turning around and proceeding deeper into the pit as we quickly made to follow, "as the current Pit-Warden I grant you permission and protection."
And that was the day I saw my first dragon in truth.