Chapter Nine: I Call Bull.
Seventeenth Day of the Fourth Month, 111 AC.
"You are really taking to this Gaem!" Rhaenyra commented happily as Syrax made to land in the Dragonpit's yard.
She was not wrong, I loved flying more than I ever thought that I would. It was just not the main reason that I continually pestered Rhaenyra to take me flying whenever possible.
I needed a dragon and quickly. I needed to get as used to them as possible and to shake off any fear or excitement from flying. I needed it to be no more interesting or frightening than walking with my own two feet.
I wanted the possibility of working Valyrian Steel in the future, so I had to resign myself to a dragon that would grow slowly, and I lacked access to the manpower that Gaema had in my dreams, so I needed to start sooner.
Even if Valyrian Steel proved too costly to make or if my dreams stopped, the benefit of being able to more finely control the thing that my life would depend on was far too good to pass up.
That was all present in my reasoning, it also had the benefit of trimming back how much time Daemon could spend with Rhaenyra. The damned prince had been back at court for two months and had yet to try anything that Mushroom had seen.
But I knew it was coming, either from the doe eyes that Rhaenyra was making at Ser Criston ever more frequently or the ample amount of praise and miscellaneous shiny things which Daemon was piling on her.
The circumstances were falling into place.
Still being four, my options for damage control were largely limited to taking up as much of her time as I could without risking her annoyance. I could not wait to be old enough to have some appreciable agency.
There was also the fact that I was doing my level best to avoid the eyes mortal-Sauron from falling on me and commanding ghost kings to kill me so that a ghost-elf could possess me and give me all sorts of cool archery and flipping powers- alright the metaphor is falling apart on me, but you get the idea.
"Gaem?" Rhaenyra roused me from trying to work my metaphor out.
"Hmm? Sorry Rhae, it's just that this is so much fun!" I beamed up at her.
I maximized the cuteness by turning around and hugging her. Damn it was easy to pull 'cute' off when one is young.
As we dismounted we were set upon by two figures. Ser Criston 'may the snakes of all worlds declare a blood feud with him' Cole and Ser Eberman. It did humor me to see the taller knight literally cast a shadow over Ser Criston from the angle at which they stood.
The damned knight had impressed the mother-the queen with his spine (and probably just standing up to Rhaenyra) so much that he had gotten himself named my sworn shield.
Which sucked because I did not like the man in the least. For three weeks, he had been on the job and for three weeks he had been grating on my patience by providing me with a very tall shadow.
It was at least a comfort that he was not overly quiet or hostile, I did not need a Hound expy.
"Your grace," he bowed politely before Rhaenyra, one of the few good things I could say about Eberman was that he was a quick learner.
Rhaenyra barely held back a scowl as she forced a smile, "Good day, Ser Bulwer. I take it you have come to find my dear brother?"
"Indeed, your grace. He is not yet allowed to remain so long outside the Keep," He answered in an inflectionless voice. He did not seem sour about the time Rhaenyra interfered with him, but the man basically had 'follow my instructions to the letter' carved into his skull.
"Very well then," Rhaenyra said with all the grace in her. She kneeled and kissed my forehead. "I will see you tonight, my little knight."
"Of course, Rhae!" I smile.
Damn you Eberman, if this was the day that he makes a move on her, I will have your head on a stick shortly before I die in some freak accident.
As I was escorted back to the keep on the little pony I had been gifted on my name day by Viserys (a twin of the one Aegon had received), I stopped near the gates of the keep.
"Again, my prince?" Eberman asked in something resembling an exasperated tone. I honestly wished Alicent had not let her jealousy pick a sworn shield based on stubbornness over obedience or (presumably) skill.
"You were merely told to have me back within the Red Keep correct?" I asked dryly while pointing at the surrounding walls. "Not what I am supposed to do within it."
"That is... technically correct my prince," Eberman said slowly, he was smart enough to see where this was going and had proven resistant to being creeped out by me.
"Then I do not see an issue then," I spurred the pony in the direction of the castle forge.
"Technically!" I heard him yell as he set his own mount apace with me.
"Technically correct is the best kind of correct!" I shout back with a chuckle as my beleaguered hernia of a bodyguard caught up with me as we weaved the yards of the great castle.
I felt a little too much pride in my control of Balerion, it had taken quite a bit of effort to get riding right and I knew that I still rode as well as a child could.
Everyone had been plenty amused by my choice of name for my little steed, assuming I was trying to imitate my father or that it was an extension of my now clear fascination with dragons. Frankly, it sounded a great deal better than Balerion being the Valyrian God of Determination and Victory and it fitting such an incredibly stubborn and foul-tempered beast.
Honestly, I'd fallen off the damned thing quite a few times now. Bright side, if I got a cranky dragon it would hardly be a great change.
As we made it to the main forge of the castle and dismounted, Eberman commented as was his habit.
"This is not proper my prince."
"I merely wish to watch, Eberman," Despite my hopes the shield had failed to take umbrage when he realized I purposely neglected his title, he seemed at peace with his lot. He weathered the abuse quite well as long as it did not conflict with his orders.
"There must surely be other things that you wish to do with your time?" Eberman continued.
"Do you honestly never feel curious about your own arms and armour?" I pointed out, it was the same argument every time I came. The entire routine had become like clockwork.
"As I have said before," Eberman countered. "I place my trust in the smiths and content myself with mastering the use of their work."
I grunted in response, I had never seen the man fight so I did not take the bait on that point. He never came up in the books, so I doubted he was particularly good with sword or lance.
I waved my greeting to the castle's chief bladesmith, an older man named Pert whom was the closest thing I had ever seen to a fantasy dwarf being short, thickly bearded and built like a German VII Maus.
"Yer grace!" He bowed as deep he could without taking himself from his work as aides raced around him. "Come ta'witness the work again?"
'The work', he always called it that. The man loved his craft and revered it with a religious devotion. I supposed that it was to be expected, given the position he had reached with the entire Street of Steel to compete against.
"A master's work is always a worthy sight!" I shouted back happily.
Fun fact, it kills suspicion when the weird princeling actually shows his appreciation for the craft one has devoted their life to.
Watching him work was relaxing, it cleared my mind and it allowed me to think.
It had become a habit to come and see the manifold smiths of the keep at their work when I could manage it. I knew I would never be allowed to practice here but it was useful to take note to be sure. It really drove home a point that I had picked up from Gaema's dreams.
Whoever directed smithing in media did not know jack about how it worked.
It was slow, tedious work which without extremely sophisticated modern equipment required a great deal of assistance from a team of apprentices, workers and specialists to complete.
I needed the steel as a recruitment tool, it was the one leg I could potentially use to give myself sway far beyond what I could gather on my own.
I did not need much, even if I could just make a few, just a tiny handful of swords. That would be enough to sway some of the houses to my side. Hell, giving one to the Lannisters alone (and from my studies it was super-obvious that wanting one was not a 'Tywin' thing) would mean that I could nip the war in the bud if I was careful.
That was putting the cart before the horse though.
Even if I managed to figure out how to replicate the creation of Valyrian Steel, I would need a very good team of assistants to get it done to say nothing of the training.
I had begun to puzzle out how I would go about doing it, a traditional apprenticeship would be far too slow and a problematic hobby for a prince in any case.
So my options for teaching were limited.
I had only come up with three options, each with benefits and each with buckets of complications.
The most obvious solution was the Citadel, the bronze link of blacksmithing required a sped-up apprenticeship according to Runciter. It was not unheard of for nobles to forge a few links without any oaths, it was also very common to study a field for long after they acquired their link.
I might have been able to approximate an apprenticeship well-enough that way. The problem came from the theory that the Maesters were dragon-murder happy and that a dragon would not be very safe there if that were true. It also placed me entirely too close to the greens.
There was the option of the Night's Watch but that was a bad idea on almost every level. It would toss me out of political-action range but not political-assassination range. I would not even get the apprenticeship, who in their right mind would make a dragonrider a steward after all? That was all to say nothing of the whole 'celibacy' thing, no way in all the hells.
Lastly, there was Qohor which had by far the most variables. Smiths were like nobility there and they prided themselves on their skill, far enough that I could dismiss the rumors until I got results. It was also far enough to be safe. That being said the city was entirely too mysterious and I had no interest in ending up losing a hand for asking the wrong question.
All of those approaches also had overarching problems.
For one they would require putting off marriage which I needed, I needed a bride with a lordship, the bigger the better. Some place to safely set up shop. Not marrying left me with literally nothing to use as a support base. They also had the distinct problem of distancing me from the court and I doubted anyone was attached enough to me that they would not forget about any fondness and sick the proverbial dogs on me if I did not constantly reassert their fondness for me. Also, there was the fact that my damned shadow would follow me even if he had to walk across the Narrow Sea.
What to do, what to do…
"Prince?" Eberman coughed beside me and roused me from my mulling over my future.
"Yes Eberman?" I asked without taking my eyes off the work.
"The feast will begin soon, you should return to your chambers to prepare," he observed.
I looked around and realized that the blue sky had given way to the orange of noon. "It seems you are correct."
I leaned over the fence, "Until next time master Pert!"
The bladesmith laughed and waved as I walked away.
I walked back to Balerion and Eberman to his Bors.
We rode up to the keep while I contemplated further on what I would have to do. In the end, it all really seemed a moot point.
It was all pointless until I had a dragon.
That was such a tempting idea. Qelos had followed Gaema like an incredibly loyal pet or an effective assistant. He showed not a drop of hostility unless crossed and was not violent (a vicious troll but that was acceptable). If I could get a dragon like that… well a Faceless Man would reconsider a target that was never more than a few steps away from a dragon, especially a cunning dragon that knew who to roast without need of a command.
But that was all a whole hell of a lot of ifs and buts in the future, I needed to somehow get to a dragon/egg, I needed it to be smart, I needed to be allowed to try my luck with it and most importantly I needed to not get killed…
Targaryens could die by barbeque same as anyone else and I'd never met someone who came out looking the better from a brawl with a dragon, even a baby one.
I shook my head as we stabled our steeds at the main stables and made our way inside.
"Something troubles you?" Eberman asked. He had grown used to that, my lapsing into long silences. He seemed to find idle amusement in watching me dig myself into a mental pit.
"It is nothing just contemplating something futile," I answer back.
It was a stupid thing to think about, dragon or not I would still get caught in the war. The only difference it would make was whether I stood any hope in hell of defending myself. I might be a bit of a coward but even I knew a calculated risk when I saw one. Plenty of Targaryens got their dragons and there was no need to think I would suddenly be the exception. Study and preparation would be key of course but I would have to do it and soon.
"Actually, we will have to make a quick detour," I comment while changing our course through the castle.
"Are you certain that that is wise? The queen-" Eberman queried. I sighed and decided to pull up my trump card.
"Are you my sworn shield or my mother's?" I asked. Honestly the one thing Alicent had failed to take into account when she placed the knight was the thing that seemed to define him, his stubbornness.
"I have asked you to stop questioning my honour, my prince," he said with more than a trace of indignity. "I swore my oaths to you and you alone."
"Then trust that what I need do is in the best interest of my health," He may not be likeable, but the fool took his honor seriously.
"How so?" Concern rose slightly in his gravelly voice, "Are you unwell?"
"I need Dragonlore," I answer. "It might occur to you that I am a Targaryen and most of us have or are expected to have dragons."
The knight grunted as he thought through what I was saying. "Seeking to improve your chances?"
"Correct," I nodded without looking up at the colossus.
He let out a deep sigh, "Under most circumstances I would attempt to dissuade you."
Eberman might be my man but he was still a green at heart, if he did not like Cole and Rhaenyra then he despised Daemon. I did not quite understand why, but then again people were hard to read and I failed to put much effort into learning about my sworn shield.
Hmm, that was rather idiotic on my part. I needed to figure out how to get more on him later, I did not need some Achilles heel that could convince the man always at my back to plant a knife in it.
"Then let us be glad that these are not most circumstances," I shoot back.
Turning a corner, we finally made it to Runciter's chambers below the rookery. I figured that I would retrieve whatever manuals covered the subject from my dear teacher before heading back to prepare for the feast.
Sure enough, the old maester was there. drinking arbor in his seat.
The problem was that across from him was none other prince Daemon.
He smiled at me as I entered the chamber unaware and toasted his goblet, "And there is the prodigy now!"
"Huh?" the old man says as he turned around and smiled at me with a slightly shakier toast, oh sweet gods he was drunk. "Ah! Gaemon my boy! Come, come. I was just speaking with your lord uncle about you."
I saw annoyance flash unto Daemon's face when Runciter said 'lordly' but he quickly quashed it.
Great Runciter was blabbing about me, it time to resort to the child card.
"What? What talk about?" I was hedging that Daemon had forgotten about my curious nature and that he, against all reason, did not do some digging into my condition.
Shut up, I know it sounds stupid.
"Now lad, you need not play the fool," Runciter exclaimed with a wave of his goblet that spilled some of the drink. "I have just been telling him all about your condition, he was quite concerned."
"Indeed, dear nephew," Daemon says with a (murderous) twinkle in his eyes and a (shark's) smile. "I was quite pleased to learn that you are so gifted."
I cough to both clear my throat and to keep the terror from my voice, "It is no great matter uncle-"
"And I was most pleased to hear about you work on the Freehold," Damn you Runciter! No one was supposed to hear about that. "I am quite fond of their histories myself although your own father has never cared much for it."
He laughed and took a swig before continuing, "Quite the amusing thing, your mother and I spoke much of it when we were younger. She always asked me a great deal about Barth."
"Ah yes!" Runciter noted merrily while ignoring the implication, "You studied a deal under Barth did you not my prince? Perhaps we should include him in our work Gaemon?"
No. We. Should. Not. I said in my head while trying to not seethe at Daemon's intrusion into my little and hard-won safe space.
"I would be glad to!" Daemon toasted with the Maester. "I must admit that most of what I know comes from old flight manuals, but it would be grand to contribute to a compilation of Valyrian Culture!"
We there goes one potential advantage and my safe space. Hardly a surprise that Daemon would have read up on this stuff given his record in the books.
"My prince," Eberman spoke for the first time while laying a hand on my shoulder. "If we do not leave now we will not make the feast in time."
"Yes, Ser Eberman," I said with as much cheer as I could plaster to my face.
I made my excuses and left. As I did I made a note to never again turn my back to Daemon Targaryen. I felt his eyes on me every damned second until we turned the corner.
I needed a dragon and soon.