Gaemon III
The courtyard in which Gaemon had landed seemed to be Dragonstone's bailey, as there were several areas which caught Gaemon's eye immediately as he looked about. Covering what must have been an armory and smithy (judging from the smoke billowing into the air above it), were a pair of great wings, covering the otherwise open-air work area. Scanning the walls around him, he could make out the tops of several towers, one of which was molded to resemble a screaming dragon, and another that was decidedly calmer. Lastly, before him rose a massive central tower. He thought he spied faces peering out from lancets set high above the ground, but they were gone almost as quickly as they appeared. Everything was crafted of black stone, and there were an abundance of draconic gargoyles scattered about the walls and buildings. As if one needed several, constant reminders of the draconic heritage of the citadel's occupants. My ancestors certainly possessed an… eccentric taste in building appearances, Gaemon thought to himself with a smirk. Despite finding the interior of the castle to be a bit much, he was elated to have finally made his way inside its massive curtain walls, and was quick to drink in all he could of his surroundings. The air smelled of smoke, brimstone, and the distant salt of the sea.
His observations were cut short by a deep hiss from behind him, followed by a snap, and a scream. He turned to find the Cannibal still curled behind him, its mouth slightly open, regarding two young washerwomen who'd approached him a bit too closely in awe. Taking a bucket left in the muck of the courtyard, he tossed it at the dragon, watching with some satisfaction as it connected with its lower jaw. Let us hope our new relationship is strong enough that it might allow me to scold it so. A deep, rumbling growl emanated from the Cannibal, and it granted him the luxury of one of its baleful stares. It had, however, ceased its altogether disturbing fixation on the two washerwomen, which Gaemon took to be a good sign that it would not eat them. That would be a very unfortunate introduction, he thought with an internal grimace. The Cannibal, espousing a look that was equal parts terrifying but also clearly annoyed, curled into a massive, scaled ball, and began to sleep. From elsewhere within the castle Gaemon could hear the roars of dragons, likely sensing another draconic presence in their midst. Or perhaps it's simply time to break their fast.
By this point quite a crowd had gathered, with what appeared to be men-at-arms, household knights, and servants all gathered to stare in awe at the dragon and its recently dismounted rider.
The first to speak was an older man-at-arms, who must have already passed his 50th nameday: "Never in my life did I expect the Cannibal to be tamed. I have seen many men disappear after setting out to do so. Older than the Old King, that dragon. Meaner than Maegor the cruel, too. How'd you do it, son?" His crinkled eyes regarded him with a mixture of awe and respect.
Gaemon took a moment to relish in being given such a look, before speaking. "Honestly, I hit him on the snout with someone's leg bone. They clearly had no use for it anymore."
A high-pitched, exaggerated laugh echoed out from within the crowd. "He tames a big scary dragon, and is almost as funny as Mushroom? If his member is even half of the size of mine, I'd be hiding your lady folk, good sers!" With a giggle and a tumble, a dwarf in motley managed to squeeze his way through the crowd. He bowed, almost falling onto his face, before turning his fall into a roll. Rising before Gaemon, he placed a hat atop his head that completed his mushroom look. "What's your name, dragonseed?" He asked as he held out his hand expectantly.
Taking the dwarfs hand, Gaemon smiled. "Gaemon Tar… Waters. Gaemon Waters." He repeated himself with more emphasis.
He had hoped in the general commotion that no one had noticed his slip-up. It would be downright dangerous to make such a statement here of all places. To his relief, everyone was still too busy watching the Cannibal or laughing at Mushroom's entrance to have noticed. As he regarded Mushroom, a brief look of what looked to be interest, perhaps a low cunning, seemed to flit behind his eyes. As soon as it had appeared however, it was gone. Gaemon was uncertain if he had even seen it, as it seemed the dwarf was a bit, well, slow. As soon as he had stopped shaking Gaemon's hand, he had turned and begun to dance a jig. He was singing some off-tune ditty about how he had tried to tame a dragon himself. Before Gaemon could ask whether the song had truth to it, a long horn blast rang out, echoing around the courtyard.
"All kneel before his Royal Highness, Prince of Dragonstone, Jacaerys Velaryon, heir to the Iron Throne and its associated titles."
As if in unison, the courtyard dropped to its knees, including Mushroom. Gaemon was so stunned and excited he took a half second to drop to a knee himself, thankfully being reminded by a friendly tug at his pant leg. Falling to one knee, Mushroom gave a quick wink. Keeping his head low, Gaemon couldn't believe it. He was about to meet his family. He had only ever known his mother's side, his grandparents and some more distantly related kin. He had imagined what his family might look like, if his father had a face akin to his own. At times, he had stared into the sea, imagining himself with deep purple eyes and silver hair that would have proven his parentage. He imagined himself astride a dragon, flying alongside beautiful and strong half-sisters and half-brothers, racing across the waves atop their dragons. If this is Queen Rhaenyra's son, he would be my distant cousin, he thought to himself, before banishing such thoughts. Do not put yourself in danger, Gaemon. For now you are Gaemon Waters, and only Waters. He was so lost in his thoughts that he barely heard the boy's voice.
"Greetings, good man. My men tell me you call yourself Gaemon Waters. I know not if you know my family's history, but you are named for a renowned ancestor of mine own. I am pleased to see that yet another seed has proven successful. Taming the Cannibal was long thought to be impossible. You should take pride in your bravery, and the blood in your veins."
Gaemon remained facing the dirt. He longed to speak, but knew it wouldn't be proper. It was all he could do from shaking in excitement. Today is proving more magnificent than any of my boyish fantasies. A firm hand came to rest upon his shoulder, which he realized with disappointment was still clad in sheepskin.
"Rise, Gaemon Waters, I wish to speak with you. Your arrival is a great boon to my house, and my mother's cause."
Gaemon rose, eager to gaze upon the Prince. Warm brown eyes greeted him, where he'd expected purple. Brown hair fell in lazy curls about his head, where Gaemon expected white gold. Forcing his feelings of shock deep into the recesses of his mind, Gaemon rose. The Prince was dressed in his mother's colors, with a black doublet over a black shirt, with black trousers to match. A red, three headed dragon had been stitched elegantly across the doublet, completing the look. His shock at the Prince's unexpected appearance having subsided, Gaemon did have to admit the Prince cut a noble figure, strong for his age, only a few inches shorter than Gaemon himself, and with an intelligent yet kind look in his eyes.
Realizing he had not yet spoken, Gaemon's cheeks reddened. "Your words are too kind, my lo-Prince. I am honored to serve."
Taking his hand, Jacaerys Velaryon shook it firmly, giving Gaemon a brief smile before turning, beckoning for Gaemon to follow him.
"As the newest member of the dragonseeds, you are welcome here within Dragonstone, as a leal servant of House Targaryen and my mother, the Queen. As I have done for the others, I have instructed the castle tailor to prepare some new clothing for you. I daresay a dragonrider might wish for a wardrobe that is a bit more fitting for their station. That is, if you do not mind giving up your sheepskin and other accoutrements."
Gaemon smiled. "I suppose I could be persuaded to part with them."
Jacaerys grinned. "I am relieved you are proving reasonable. I must say, you do not speak like any of the smallfolk I have ever met. I mean no offense, you simply speak more in the style of a highborn."
Gaemon scowled. He couldn't exactly share his real reasons for learning the highborn manner of speaking, something the other village residents had mocked him for. "I have always longed to be a knight, and I have tried to learn to speak well so as to fit in amongst those whose ranks I wished to join."
This seemed to satisfy Jacaerys, as he nodded. "Well whatever your reasons, you make a positive impression, good man. The castle smith and armorer have been instructed to equip you with the finest armor and armaments they can, as you will represent my family on the field of battle, not just within courts. There will be no rusty mail nor pothelms for our dragonriders."
Having passed under a gateway shaped to resemble the open maw of a dragon, they had reached a smaller courtyard, adjacent to the one Gaemon had landed within. Low lying buildings lined the walls within this courtyard, and Gaemon assumed they were home to the castle guards. Reaching a slightly larger building, Jacaerys stopped in front of it.
"This was once the home of the captain of the guard. He has graciously allowed his home to be used as the dragonseeds' personal quarters. Beds have been provided, along with basic foodstuffs. Servants will come by with supper later. I can only imagine you are exhausted from your taming of such a ferocious beast. I encourage you to rest."
When Jacaerys had finished speaking, Gaemon realized the Prince was right, he was exhausted. He said his heartfelt thanks to the Prince, and asked him to pass them along to the Queen. He wasn't sure if that was proper, but Jacaerys assured him he would. Entering the hut, he didn't see anyone else inside, so he entered an unoccupied room on the second floor. It had appeared the commander's former bedroom on the first floor was taken, along with the quarters which may have housed his lady wife. The rooms upstairs seemed unoccupied, so he took the one nearest to the stairwell. Entering, he stripped off his clothing (which to his chagrin he realized had reeked of sweat and smoke this entire time) and fell into the bed. He did not have to wait long for sleep to take him.
Gaemon awoke to a soft knocking at the door. "Are ye awake, m'lord?" A voice asked, sounding more than a bit scared.
He assumed this was a maid, or one of the other serving staff. He wondered what time it was. It was dark, but he felt well-rested.
"What hour is it?" He asked.
Responding just as timidly as before, the serving girl replied "the hour of the Nightingale is drawing to a close m'lord. Dawn approaches."
Gaemon blinked, shocked. Jacaerys' words had proven more correct than he had known. Standing, he wrapped himself in a blanket. "I am awake now, you may come in."
The door opened cautiously, and a brown-haired serving girl who looked to have been around her fifteenth or sixteenth nameday entered.
"The other servants had heated water for your bath, and they sent me to see if you were awake."
Gaemon laughed internally. They probably wished to see if I still drew breath. With how scared the poor girl is, perhaps they told her I feed maidens to the Cannibal, or some other nonsense. That would certainly be the sort of trick Wat would've played at the inn.
He gave the girl an encouraging smile. "I certainly would like to bathe. Please thank them and have them bring the tub up."
The girl nodded. She continued to wait in the doorway, wringing her hands ever so slightly. Gaemon didn't understand why she stayed, until another thought crossed his mind. Perhaps it's not a trick the servants are playing on her, perhaps it is experiences with the other dragonseeds that have her so terrified. He scowled, before putting on a smile when he noticed she paled at his change in expression.
"That will be all, thank you. Where might I find the food with which to break my fast?" The girl, looking visibly relieved, told him that it would be served at the table downstairs. Gaemon nodded. "My thanks… my apologies, what is your name?"
She hesitated, and then with a slight smile, answered. "Serra, m'lord." Before leaving the room.
After bathing, Gaemon had opened the trunk at the base of his bed to find a black tunic emblazoned with a red three-headed dragon, alongside some black trousers and black leather boots. To his amusement the smallclothes themselves were black. My family definitely has a favorite color, he thought to himself. The material with which the clothing was crafted was finer than anything he'd ever worn, velvet perhaps. Before leaving, he took the leather pouch and tied the string around his neck, tucking it underneath his tunic. Surveying the room one last time, something sitting on a table caught his eye. Standing before it, he realized it was a mirror. He had not seen such luxuries before, but now, standing before it, he gazed upon his reflection in the polished bronze. A tall, rather grim looking man stared back. He tried smiling. That helped a bit. His eyes glanced up, a faint hope lurking that somehow he'd spot some silver hair, or purple eyes. Instead, as with whenever he'd taken a look in still water, auburn hair and green eyes stared back. Mother's look, he thought to himself, reminding himself to not be dissapointed. Turning, he strapped an ornate dagger (the handle appearing to be molded to look like a dragon's claw, unsurprisingly) to his waist and exited the room.
He had broken his fast with a rasher of bacon, some (still warm!) freshly baked brown bread, and some ale. Still finding no sign of the other seeds, he had exited his new home into the castle yard. Retracing his path from the day before, entering the main courtyard where he and the Cannibal had landed the day before. His dragon was curled against a wall clearly around something. The Cannibal appeared to be breaking its fast as well, and Gaemon paled, hoping he'd not decided to eat one of the servants making their rounds. Or worse, a dragon from the hatcheries; he has been given his name for a reason. He was afraid to confirm his suspicions, but his fears were thankfully alleviated when a stable boy informed him that they had slaughtered an ox earlier, and dragged it close enough that the Cannibal had been roused by the scent of its blood. They had fled before it had uncoiled, before snatching the corpse into its maw and returning to its current position. Deciding he'd leave the Cannibal to its meal, he turned and walked the rest of the distance to the forge, ducking under its great stone wings into the dark and smoky space within.
Once inside, it was clear that the smith was preparing for war. Newly forged blades, spear tips, axe heads, and pieces of armor were all kept in their own distinct piles, and apprentices worked at adding the finishing touches to them while the smith himself was hammering what looked to be another blade into shape. Approaching the master smith, the man raised his eyes from his work, regarding Gaemon with an inquisitive look.
"The new seed, eh? Welcome to my forge. I've received orders from the Prince ta outfit you."
Approaching Gaemon, he went about taking various measurements, suiting him in various pieces of armor (and apologizing when he caught some of Gaemon's hair in a gorget), before finally taking a step back. Bobbing his head twice quickly, he crossed his massive arms before speaking.
"Well m'lord, I'll get to work on a suit of plate for yer needs. Do ya have any weapons that ya prefer to use?"
Gaemon had feared a question along those lines, having never actually wielded a true sword. "I suppose I will take a sword." He said, after feigning a look of contemplation.
The smith, looking rather amused, nodded in affirmation. "A good blade of castle forged steel won't let ya down. I'll get to work on it myself. Wouldn't want ya to have to use any of the plowshares these dolts have been making" he said, nodding towards the apprentices scurrying around the forge. "I'll send a runner when everything is done. Good craftsmanship takes time." Leaning closer to Gaemon, he whispered: "In the meantime, ya might want to head over to the practice yard ta learn the basics." Winking, he chuckled and returned to his work.
Leaving the forge, Gaemon couldn't help but be a bit disappointed in the fact that the smith hadn't been fooled by his facade. He had intended to begin practicing, but it was clear to him now that the matter was even more urgent than he had believed previously. He asked for directions from a guard, and was soon led to a courtyard to the north of the main courtyard, where the sound of grunting and the clashing of metal and wood could be heard. He was beginning to craft a mental map of Dragonstone's citadel, which had several concentric walls expanding outwards from the central keep, which was called the Stone Drum. The innermost wall was the highest, the space within was divided into four courtyards, with the forge in the largest, including a gate leading out of the first of the walls, into the space between the innermost wall and the next ring of fortifications. The maester's home, the Sea Dragon Tower, was located in that space. The barracks that served as his new home was located in the southernmost of the four inner courtyards, while the sparring yard was in the northernmost. The final of the four courtyards, the easternmost, was where the castle dragons were kept. It seemed none were particularly eager to attempt to encourage the Cannibal to move there. Perhaps it is for the best, Gaemon thought. He'd likely decide to eat one of the smaller ones, and I cannot always be around to throw things at him when he makes a poor decision.
Turning his attention back to the courtyard, he waited at the edge of the ring for the current sparring match to end. It appeared that there were two teams facing one another, composed of the members of Queen Rhaenyra's household knights. While Gaemon had expected them to use live steel in their mock fights, he soon realized their weapons were wooden. He supposed that made sense, as spilling the blood of your fellow brothers in arms seemed like a wasteful preparatory exercise. The current match looked to be drawing to its conclusion, as a knight with a grey gambeson emblazoned with the image of a burning tree struck his last opponent mightily over the helmet with his wooden blade. The other knight, cursing, stepped back, and raised his blade in a salute to his opponent, before stepping out of the ring. Cheers echoed around the yard as the knight with the flaming tree raised his wooden sword above his head, before bowing to his 'fallen' teammates and enemies. A young boy rushed out into the ring bearing a white cloak, and after the knight had affixed it around his shoulders, Gaemon realized with a start that he was in the presence of a member of Queen Rhaenyra's Queensguard.
Shouts of "Bravo! Ser Marbrand!" and "Well fought, Ser Lorent!" soon assigned a name to the knight.
Seeing Gaemon in the crowd, Marbrand approached him, the men in attendance to the spectacle parting to allow him to pass. Reaching him, he extended his mailed hand. "Taming the Cannibal was no small feat."
Shaking his hand, Gaemon nodded his thanks. "Kind words, Ser. I must admit however the process was decidedly less glorious than I had imagined it would be beforehand. I nearly became his supper."
Ser Lorent nodded, grimly. "Twas good that was not the fate the Seven had ordained for you. Mine own Lord Commander, Ser Steffon Darklyn, fell to the flames of the dragon Seasmoke. I mourn his loss, for he was a most puissant knight."
Gaemon nodded, remembering the guardsmen discussing Darklyn's unfortunate demise several nights before. He could scarcely believe all that transpired since then.
Ser Lorent's face then lightened a bit, as he spoke again. "Alas, to fixate on grim memories is not productive. Have you come to the yard to spar?"
Gaemon nodded.
"Well then," said Marbrand, "I will be your teacher today. It would not do for one of our Queen's newest champions to not know his way around a blade." Gaemon wasn't sure he liked the vicious smile Ser Marbrand gave him as he said those words.
The next several hours had been gruelling. Marbrand was a good teacher, but he punished failure harshly. Usually this meant the crack of his wooden sword across whatever part of the body Gaemon had left exposed. Wielding a blade is not as easy as he makes it seem, Gaemon thought to himself during one of his many breaks, as he greedily gulped down water from a flask offered to him. Gaemon was far more exhausted than he had expected to be; he hadn't expected simply maintaining his guard with a shield would require so much exertion. It doesn't help that I keep forgetting to breathe when the sparring actually starts, he thought with a frown. Ser Lorent had explained that that was often a mistake made by novices, one that often proved fatal. Gaemon was learning some important lessons, but he already could tell this was a process that would likely take years. It was also frustrating that he was so far behind in his training when compared with the knights and squires around him. If I had been a prince, mayhaps I'd already be a master. Pushing such unproductive thoughts out of his head, he rose, and returned to the ring.
After three more sparring sessions, Gaemon was pleased that by the end of the day he had managed to survive Ser Lorent's onslaught for at least two heart beats before being struck down. He'd only managed to throw his own attacks a handful of times, and Marbrand had always caught them on his shield effortlessly, but nonetheless he was still pleased with himself. It felt good to be taking steps forward with regards to his swordsmanship. And besides, it's unlikely I would be able to find a better teacher than Ser Lorent, a Queensguard member! He was lost in his thoughts as he stripped the sweat-soaked practice armor off, but was brought back to the present by the sound of horns blaring and echoing across the castle walls. He remembered similar sounds when he himself had been descending atop the Cannibal towards the courtyard. His suspicions were confirmed as a pale grey-white dragon descended from the evening clouds, circling the castle, before descending towards the courtyard to land. He strained to see who was atop the creature, but was shocked when he spotted such a familiar form atop the dragon. Maegor! Elated, Gaemon began to run towards the courtyard where his friend had landed.
As he approached, he grinned to himself. So his dreams of the Grey Ghost WERE true. He wasn't simply lying for attention as a child. Maegor's brothers had never put much stock in their younger brother's insistent claims, and Gaemon found himself regretting that he hadn't believed their veracity himself. Reaching the edge of the crowd, he found himself glad for his height, as he could see over the assembled smallfolk to where Maegor stood, looking quite pleased with himself. He appeared to be speaking with one of the two guards who had visited the inn the other evening. The guard's face was grim. Maegor was listening intently, and his expression began to change. Instead of elation, there was a terrible sadness etched across his features. He seemed to be pushing for more information, but the guard shook his head, sadness etched across his own face as well. Looking completely devastated, Maegor turned from the crowd and leaned against the Ghost, and was racked with sobs. When Prince Jacaerys emerged to greet him, Maegor managed to compose himself, but his features remained marked with grief.
From the murmurs of the crowd, Gaemon learned the truth. Maegor's father, Silver Denys and his two oldest sons, Aegon and Aenys, had gone in search of the Sheepstealer. Finding the dragon, they had failed to tame it, and had been devoured. Gaemon was shocked, but more importantly, he grieved for his friend. When the Prince allowed Maegor to rise, he seemed to offer his condolences, and led him off towards the barracks quietly, speaking softly to him. Gaemon couldn't hear any of their conversation, but it seemed the Prince was attempting to offer some words of sympathy. They disappeared beneath a draconic arch, and Gaemon was left with the shock of the awful turn of events. He couldn't imagine such loss. He had never known either of his parents, and had no siblings of his own. He wasn't sure if his condolences would be of much worth to Maegor, but he followed, determined to try to help somehow.
The next week had been marred by his friend's loss. Maegor had changed, becoming quieter, and had spent several days in quiet contemplation, often finding a secluded spot to watch the sea from the citadel's walls. They ate meals together, but spoke little. Gaemon wanted to help Maegor, but often couldn't find the words to say. His characteristic humor would be of little use. He continued to spar in the yard with Ser Lorent, but hadn't been successful in convincing Maegor to join the matches. He had hoped that at the very least that sparring would allow him to focus on something else. He had offered to take him to the smith, after he had received word that his armor was ready, thinking while he was fitted Maegor's measurements could be taken. Once more, Maegor had simply shook his head in the negative. Gaemon decided it was best to simply let him process his grief in whatever manner would be best for him.
In time, other seeds had proven successful in taming the remaining dragons. Addam Velaryon, the supposed bastard son of Laenor Velaryon, former husband to the Queen, had been brought from Driftmark alongside his brother Alyn. Each had sought to tame a dragon, but only Addam had proven successful in taming Seasmoke. Alyn had tried to tame the Sheepstealer, and only a timely intervention of his brother and Seasmoke had prevented him from suffering the same fate as Silver Denys. Addam and Alyn, being the acknowledged grandsons of Corlys Velaryon, had been able to live in the Storm Drum alongside their grandsire. Watching them enter the Storm Drum had stung. How lucky they are, to have a family that recognizes their parentage, he had thought. He had learned that his father wasn't even present on Dragonstone soon after; Daemon Targaryen had taken Harrenhal, the greatest of the castles of Westeros, during the beginning of the war and had been assembling a loyalist host there ever since.
Gaemon had also finally been able to meet the seeds who had tamed dragons before him, Hugh and Ulf the White. Their frequent absences had been due to their nightly drinking bouts at the tavern in the town below the castle. They had only returned to the citadel for funds to continue their drinking, when they had been told that the drinks on the house had run dry and they 'had best pay up.' Apparently Hugh had beaten the innkeep senseless, but had been reminded by a guard that they served the Queen, and were to maintain peace in her name.
Upon their return, they had sized Gaemon up, and when he told them he had tamed the Cannibal, they'd grinned and offered their congratulations. Their smiles had not reached their eyes, however. I suspect they do not enjoy being outperformed, Gaemon had thought to himself. They had nonetheless encouraged Gaemon to join them for a night of debauchery, and he had assured them that he would at some point. He had been sorely tempted, but had resolved not to go as he felt it would not be right to abandon Maegor.
Two weeks after Gaemon had arrived atop the Cannibal, another dragon had appeared in the skies above the citadel. Roaring its greetings to the dragons below, it had landed in the main courtyard, to be greeted by the smallfolk, as was customary by this point. The dragon was a mud-brown color, and was quickly identified by the crowd to be the Sheepstealer. Gaemon had rushed to the courtyard from his sparring alongside Ser Lorent to see the newest dragonseed rider. Many had speculated about whether the Sheepstealer would actually be tamed, as the dragon had claimed more victims than any other during the 'Sowing of the Seeds' as the previous few weeks had come to be known.
Mutters and shocked whispers had already begun to circulate amidst the crowd as Gaemon and Ser Lorent arrived at its edge. Gaemon quickly found the source of the people's shock. Sitting atop the Sheepstealer was a young woman, with brown skin, black hair, and brown eyes. Gaemon couldn't help but grin. Finally, someone has tamed a dragon whilst looking even less like a dragonlord than me.
The girl hopped down from her mount, and quickly surveyed the crowd with a serious expression, before cracking a grin that sported crooked teeth. She then spoke, exclaiming: "taming this ugly son of a bitch proved thirsty work. Who will be a kind ser and buy this girl a fucking drink?"
Exclamations rang out amidst the crowd, and many shook their heads at the girl's unladylike ways. She had begun to frown as she looked for volunteers until she and Gaemon made eye contact, and her grin returned when she saw he had raised his hand.
After the girl had knelt to Prince Jacaerys and been shown her new quarters, she quickly found Gaemon, where he had been waiting at a respectful distance, not wanting to intrude on her moment with Prince Jacaerys.
Approaching him, her characteristic grin returned. "So you're my noble knight, come to take me away for a night of drinking and celebration?"
Gaemon grinned. "My lady, there are quite a few things wrong with that fantasy. I am no knight, nor am I very noble. But I will certainly drink with you."
The girl nodded. "Knights are pompous arses anyways. Only knights I've ever seen have been atop horses, giving orders and acting as though they shit gold. I'd rather drink with other 'urchins' as they so like to call me."
Gaemon laughed. "I used to empty chamber pots myself. You'll find no greater urchin than myself."
The girl turned to face him, extending her hand. "They call me Nettles, by the way. That'd be because my words sting."
Gaemon shook her hand. "They call me Gaemon, because, well, that's not important."
Nettles shrugged. "It is nice to meet you Gaemon. Now are we to drink alone? Do you wish to seduce me? Or are we to have some additional boon companions?"
Gaemon smiled. "We have a few others to find. I mean for all the seeds to meet tonight, in celebration of the final dragon being tamed."
Nettles raised a dark eyebrow. "You're a seed?"
Gaemon nodded. "I tamed the Cannibal."
Nettles gave an impressive whistle. "Fuck me. I didn't think anyone was that stupid. Guess I was wrong."
Gaemon imitated Mushroom's voice, saying "Well, I always have a had a strong dash of stupid in me blood, m'lady."
Nettles laughed. "You sound like that dwarf that danced for me when I landed earlier. What a talented mummer you are."
You have no idea, thought Gaemon.
It took some cajoling, but Gaemon had managed to convince Maegor to join them. After asking a castle servant to pass on a message, they had waited for a quarter of an hour until Addam and Alyn had appeared in the entryway, descending the steps of the Stone Drum to join them. After some initial introductions, they had all made their way down the winding path, through the concentric curtain walls into the fishing village. Reaching the tavern, raucous laughter emanated from within.
Nettles was the first to enter, after declaring it appeared 'her type of place'. Addam and Alyn shared a look, grinning, their purple eyes shining, and entered after. Gaemon turned to Maegor, and beckoned for him to enter. After casting his gaze about, he did so, wordlessly. Once inside the source of the laughter became apparent. Ulf and Hugh were already well into their cups, each with a whore on their knee. Nettles, Gaemon, and Maegor sat across from them, while Addam and Alyn pulled stools up at the foot of the table, eerily mimicking each other's actions. Gaemon decided that even though they were not, in fact, twins, he found it hard to tell them apart. They were small, quick, and both had a gleaming intelligence behind their eyes. Addam, the older of the two, was taller, but still was a head shorter than Gaemon, and closer to a foot shorter than Maegor. They both shared silver hair, which they kept cut short. Of us all, they certainly fit the part of dragonseed the best. Ulf had white hair as well, but hazel eyes shown from beneath his locks. Hugh was massive, and pale blonde of hair. His blue eyes were the color of the sea. The Valyrian resemblance dropped off markedly after him, when considering the other seeds.
They had all quickly ordered pints to match those in the hands of Ulf and Hugh, while Gaemon, Addam, Alyn and Nettles had ordered meat pies to serve as their supper. They each began to share tales of their dragontaming experiences, with Alyn listening wistfully.
When it came time for Nettles to speak, she was already in her cups. Standing with a proud grin, she began. "It is honestly a great surprise to me that my Sheepstealer had not been tamed when I arrived from Spicetown on Driftmark. The key was in the beast's name. Each day, I fed him a sheep, and over time, he stopped acting as though he wished to eat me as well. Why that was so hard for the fools that tried before me, I will never understand. Sheepstealer certainly ate his fill of them in the days before my arrival."
Gaemon began to scowl as she spoke. His eyes looked into the faces of each seed, noting the laughter of Hugh and Ulf, then the quiet simmering anger of Addam and Alyn. Then he saw Maegor's face.
An odd light burned behind his storm grey-blue eyes. Gaemon saw the rage building, and it matched his own. Had Nettles truly not heard the stories of the victims of Sheepstealer? Or did she simply not care?
He considered speaking his mind, when Maegor spoke quietly. "Some of those 'fools' were my father and brothers."
The table grew silent, and Nettles paled, her grin faltering. Seeing four pairs of eyes looking at her, the rage simmering, she looked down at her tankard. A few moments passed before she spoke.
"I am sorry. I didn't know. The drink got to me." She looked first to Maegor, then to Alyn, whose bandaged scars were visible under his tunic. "I won't make that mistake again." The tension began to dissipate.
It continued to do so until Ulf spoke, slurring his words: "Bugger that, girl. I say shtick to your wordsh. Those men were fools. They're gone, we are here. We are the shtrong ones."
With that, Maegor rose, clenching his fists, staring enraged at Ulf. Hugh shoved the girl off of his knee, and sat up, less drunk than he appeared, his massive muscles tensing. Glaring, Maegor stood in silence at both.
Gaemon, gripping his dagger, turned to Ulf. "Speak like that to my friend again, and you will know what it is to be fed to a dragon."
After he had spoken, he realised the inn was deafeningly quiet. Addam and Alyn looked from Maegor to him, then from Hugh to Ulf, before gripping their own daggers. Gaemon noticed Nettles was tense, and held a blade of her own under the table. He wasn't sure which side the other seeds would take, but the likely fight was prevented by the arrival of a citadel guard.
"Gaemon Waters, your presence is demanded by the Prince of Dragonstone. I ask you to follow me immediately."
Gaemon, confused, stood, and after casting one last gaze and Ulf and Hugh, allowed himself to be led from the tavern. Behind him, he saw the other seeds leave and disperse in the night, leaving Ulf and Hugh to their cups.