Gaemon VI
Glancing at the sky, Gaemon didn't see any signs of snow. The day had been gray and rainy to be sure, but so far the weather had not seen fit to corroborate the Citadel's decree that winter had arrived. It seems fitting that this war would mark the beginning of a long and brutal winter. The more superstitious would probably choose to attribute the onset of winter to the displeasure of the Gods. He wasn't sure what he believed, but he was certain the Gods had little interest in whoever sat the Iron Throne. Perhaps this entire war has simply been a source of cosmic entertainment to them.
It certainly seemed at times as though the war was taking place on some sort of divine cyvasse board. News continued to arrive daily, tied to the feet of ravens. The Red Kraken's forces had taken Fair Isle, and it seemed as though the Ironborn had the Lannisters on the back foot. That likely has much and more to do with the forces of the Rock rotting in the Riverlands. Regrettably, however, dark wings also brought dark words, as the saying went. For every success, there was a setback. The most recent of which had been the loss of Bitterbridge. Gaemon's fist clenched. Bitterbridge wasn't lost. It was wiped off of the map. When word had first arrived, the court had been shocked at the brutality of the sack. The Caswells had assured the Queen that they had had nothing to do with her nephew's unfortunate demise. That had mattered little and less to the Hightowers, however. Reports arrived daily from Tumbleton, detailing the vast streams of refugees that arrived daily, begging to be allowed inside the town's walls.
As if the situation in the Reach was not bad enough, the situation in the Riverlands continued to be infuriating. Prince Aemond continued to burn village after village, punishing Lords and smallfolk alike for their 'treasonous allegiance'. It was infuriating. I care not how large Vhagar has grown. If Aemond were to be hunted down and forced to face the likes of Caraxes, the Cannibal, Sheepstealer and Grey Ghost, Vhagar would be ripped to shreds. Instead of action, however, they had been told to remain at their posts. Reports arrived almost daily of Aemond's depredations, each Lord beseeching the Queen to lend her dragons in their defense.
While his time in King's Landing had been by no means unenjoyable, this ceaseless waiting was maddening. He wasn't even certain what the Queen was waiting for. Forces had arrived from the Vale and the North, and word had come that Cregan Stark had begun his march from Winterfell, having taken the last several months to assemble a savage host of Northmen outside his gates. As Winter fell across the continent, its sons prepared to make their wrath known. The war may finally be drawing to a close, he thought to himself. The war should have already BEEN over, rose a voice, unbidden.
As he wrestled with these thoughts, he rode under the Red Keep's massive portcullis alongside the other seeds. Dismounting at the stables, he handed the reins to one of the many stable boys in attendance, before turning to face the others. Each of them presented quite the formidable sight in their black plate, with their winged helms concealing their features. Only their physical shapes betrayed who lurked beneath each suit. Ulf's pale hair stuck out from beneath his helm, flowing over the black gorget, while Hugh's unmistakable barrel chest heaved heavily as he dismounted. Maegor was noticeable based on his height alone, standing a few inches taller than both Hugh and Gaemon. Even Nettles looked imposing in her black mail, almost appearing as though she were a Child of the Forest ready to do battle. The moment she saw his eyes on her, however, she ruined the image by performing one of the worst imitations of a curtsey he'd ever seen. Afterwards, she gave him one of her characteristic gap-toothed grins, as if to say: bask in my feminine charms, peasant.
Chuckling from beneath his helm, he heard someone clear his throat behind them, evidently to get their attention. Turning, he found himself face to face with Ser Rayford Lothston.
"The Queen awaits your presence, dragonseeds. If you'll follow me?" Despite phrasing his words as a question, Lothston took no time to wait for a response. Walking briskly across the courtyard, he led them towards the Great Hall, whose great doors were opened for them to allow them to enter.
Upon entering, Gaemon was immediately able to ascertain that today's audience would be one of note. The great bronze braziers burned brightly, and many Lords and Ladies of note stood in attendance along the sides of the hall. Gaemon recognized many faces as he passed, taking note of Ser Willam Royce and the Manderly brothers near the front of the crowd. The heat within the hall had already evidently proved to be of great discomfort to Ser Torrhen, who was dabbing constantly at his reddening forehead with a kerchief. At the foot of the throne on the left stood the Seasnake, along with his grandson Addam, both bedecked in their Velaryon silver and sea greens. On the right stood Prince Joffrey, Prince Daemon, Lady Baela, and Princes Aegon and Viserys, all in black and blood-red silks. And crowning the whole assembly, staring imperiously down from the Iron Throne itself, sat Queen Rhaenyra, her silver-gold hair tied in a long braid.
It was only after he had surveyed the hall that he realized a man was kneeling at the base of the Iron Throne. Given his appearance, Gaemon thought he might be a hedge knight, or some kind of free-rider, as he was outfitted mostly in uncolored boiled leathers, with only a dented breastplate and pot helm in the way of true armor. As the seeds took their places to the right side of the throne, Rhaenyra began to speak.
"Now that my fine riders have arrived, I beseech you to once more share your words, good man. Rise, and share your words with those assembled."
Rising, the man glanced about the court, before he returned his gaze to his feet.
"My Queen, I have come bringing word from Tumbleton. The Hightower host grows nearer by the day, and we fear that they will bring the Blue Queen to bear against the walls." Pausing, he removed his helm, running his hand through his thick brown hair. "I have served your grace since the beginning of this war. I've been fighting for your rights since the Battle of the Red Fork. Many of the men at Tumbleton 'ave been as well. We fear no men, your Grace, but we fear dragons. Prithee, send us lot some of your dragons. With such beasts at our back, we'll turn the traitors aside, you have my word."
Murmurs resounded throughout the hall. Gaemon gripped the hilt of his sword tightly, and when he cast a glance at Baela, he saw that her knuckles were white from gripping her hands together so tightly. Grinning beneath his helm, he was pleased to see she felt the same. It should come as no surprise, he thought, for we are both the Blood of the Dragon. The Queen had pursed her lips as the petitioner had spoken, tapping her nails on the blade she was resting her arm upon. Finally, she began to speak.
"Might I have the pleasure of your acquaintance, good ser?"
The man looked up, before remembering himself and returning his gaze to the floor. "The pleasure is all mine, your Grace, I assure you. I am called Tristifer of Oldstones."
The Queen offered him a thin smile. "Well, Tristifer of Oldstones, it seems you are well on your way towards fighting one hundred battles. Since you have been so true to my cause, I have no intention of letting you lose your one-hundredth, or any, for that matter. I will grant your request. It is time my enemies remembered that I too command dragons, and in far greater numbers than they."
Many throughout the court chuckled politely at the Queen's response to the petitioner, and Gaemon was fairly certain that it must have been rather witty. I wonder what that bit about the one hundred battles meant. He would have to ask Baela what she had been referencing later. For now, however, he was more interested in her decree. It sounds as though we may finally be sent to war, he thought, feeling the anticipation rise within him. The Queen's next words confirmed it.
"Kneel, my riders."
Barely able to contain his joy and excitement, Gaemon strode to the base of the throne and knelt, feeling the others kneel alongside him.
"In response to my subject's most ardent plea, I have decided to dispatch you once more to war. I have come to the conclusion that my traitorous brothers must all be given to the Stranger. With the Usurper in hiding, only two remain in the field." She studied them each for a moment, before continuing. "I hereby decree that Ser Ulf and Ser Hugh will be dispatched with their mounts to the city of Tumbleton. I charge you both with its defense, and furthermore, I beseech you to slay my treasonous youngest brother and to scatter the rabble that even now makes its way up the Roseroad." Her eyes fell on the remaining three seeds. "Ser Gaemon and Ser Maegor, I charge each of you with flying to Pinkmaiden, to reinforce Lord Piper and his men, and to begin a search for my kinslaying brother Aemond. In order to ensure both he and his dragon are destroyed, I hereby also charge the Lady Nettles and mine own Lord Husband, Prince Daemon, to fly to Maidenpool to assist in this hunt. Positioned so, the four of you ought to have little trouble cornering the little viper betwixt you. Once you've rid the realm of him, bring me his head."
Judging from the reactions of those standing at the base of the throne, this decree was not surprising. Perhaps the Queen has been preparing her response for longer than I realised. Prince Daemon was smiling wickedly, and turning to the Queen, performed a flourishing bow as he accepted her charge.
Slowly, Gaemon felt himself and the other seeds collectively rise. Almost in unison, their voices called out together in response. "As you will it, it shall be done, your Grace. Fire and Blood!"
The Cannibal stirred as soon as he entered its chamber, its scales rasping along the stone floor as it uncoiled. It gazed at him with an expression that almost looked akin to curiosity as he beckoned for others to enter the chamber, carrying the black chains and other apparatuses to affix the saddle upon its back. The work went quickly, as evidently the dragon had grown more accustomed to the presence of others. Compared to its earlier fits, it was largely content to simply allow the items to be placed, knowing it would be receiving a meal afterwards. Say what they may about its temperament, the beast has always been clever, he thought to himself as the work was completed. Several men followed the attendants in, bearing a freshly slaughtered ox for the dragon to eat. As it charred and consumed its meal, Gaemon heard the murmuring of voices and the whispering of dresses as a party entered the chamber. Turning, he found himself face to face with the Queen, her sons, and her attendants. Instinctively, he knelt.
"Rise, Ser Gaemon." As he rose, the Queen regarded him imperiously, her purple eyes considering him. "I have come to the Pit in order to see all of my riders off, and to give my final orders." Holding her hand behind her, a servant passed her a sealed letter, bearing the wax imprint of a three-headed dragon. "Present this missive to Lord Piper upon your arrival. Inside, I have asked him to treat both Ser Maegor and yourself with all the courtesy that would be expected of him were I myself present." She paused. "While you are away, you will still answer only to me. Lord Piper will be informed to accommodate your every need in order to bring the Kinslayer to justice as speedily as possible. I am loath to foist the burdens of command on one so inexperienced, but King's Landing simply could not do without my Syrax or the mounts of Prince Joffrey or Lady Baela."
Gaemon nodded. "I understand, your Grace. Neither I nor Maegor will let you down. You can count on us, as well as the Prince and Lady Nettles, to scour every corner of the Riverlands until the enemy has been flushed out and torn from the sky."
A thin, cruel smile appeared on the Queen's lips, as she appeared to be pondering the thought. "It will be a shame to lose Vhagar. The Emerald Terror is the last of the Conqueror's dragons. Her death will herald the end of an era." She sighed. "Perhaps that is for the best. Only a few years ago, many Lords grumbled about kneeling to a woman. Perhaps the old must die to usher in the new. With the death of my half-brother, we shall show them the futility of their resistance."
With those words, the Queen turned, striding out of the chamber, her posture perfect, looking every bit a Queen. An attendant performed a hasty bow in his direction before passing her sealed missive to him. As she left, Gaemon couldn't help but feel that her words would prove correct. We may indeed stand at a precipice. Only time would tell if taking the plunge would prove worthwhile. As he pondered what was to come, Baela passed by, following the Queen's entourage. She gave him the slightest of winks, and as she did, a piece of folded parchment slid from her sleeve, coming to rest at his feet. He watched the Queen's party exit the chamber, apparently none the wiser, before stooping to pick it up and tucking it away in his riding satchel. Best to read it later. Turning, he climbed atop the Cannibal, uncoiling his dragon whip. Below, attendants ran past either side of the dragon, stopping at either side of the great bronze and iron doors to the rear of the chamber. The hinges protested as the great doors were dragged open, revealing the city beneath them. With its chains undone, the dragon quickly crawled across the stone, smoke billowing from its maw in anticipation at its first taste of fresh air in a long while. Once it had cleared the walls, it began to heave its wings mightily, slowly clawing its way into the air.
Whilst the evening sky remained gray and cloudy, Gaemon could not help but revel in the beauty and majesty of the scene that played out. As he and the Cannibal raced into the air, they circled the Dragonpit, and below the doors of the structure were thrown open as other dragons soared outwards and upwards. Silverwing, gleaming in what little sunlight streamed from above, flew to join them, followed closely by the bronze Vermithor. Blood-red Caraxes was next, uttering an ear-splitting shriek to express its joy with its newfound freedom. Next came the Grey Ghost, covering the distance into the clouds much more quickly on account of its speed and smaller size. Lastly came the Sheepstealer, roaring its greetings from a mud brown maw. For a few moments, each rider allowed their dragons to bank and soar above the city with one another simply to enjoy the ecstasy of finally being able to fly again. The first to depart the circle were Ulf and Hugh, who guided their beasts to the southwest. Afterwards, Gaemon raised an armored arm to wave goodbye to Nettles, who waved a mailed fist back in return. Turning, he cracked his whip and urged his mount to begin its path following the Blackwater Rush, following the instructions he had been given earlier. We need only to follow the river until its headwaters, turning northwest at the town of Stoney Sept. Afterwards Pinkmaiden itself is but a short distance away.
As he enjoyed the simple joy of the winds buffeting him as he flew, he rummaged about his riding satchel, finding one of the biscuits he had stored away for the journey. Given that this was to be his longest flight yet, he commended himself for thinking to bring them. Opening his visor, he took a bite, relishing the taste of its buttery folds as he gazed at the fields and forests fly by beneath him. The wind whipped coldly about him, and he turned his gaze about him until he spotted the Grey Ghost a few hundred feet behind him, following as best it could despite being buffeted in the strong winds. I wonder if Maegor thought to bring a bite to eat, he thought with a smile. Finishing his snack, turned back in the saddle and settled into it, preparing for the long flight ahead.
It was well into the early hours of the morning when they finally passed Stoney Sept, torchlight from its inns and other buildings shining up from the otherwise black fields below. From there, they had taken their course northwest, following what must have been the foothills of the Westerlands. When they had passed over a rather wide river, he had realised that they must have missed their mark, so they doubled back and followed its currents southwest, assuming it to be the Red Fork. A short time later, Gaemon was pleased to see the outline of castle spires and turrets on the horizon. The sun was beginning to rise behind them as they made their gradual descent, and he was able to begin making out a few farming villages and hamlets nestled amongst the hills as they approached. Perched atop one of the largest hills for leagues around, the castle itself was moderately sized, but given its vantage point, clearly dominated the surrounding lands. Just a few leagues to the north the Red Fork continued on its lazy course towards the trident. As both dragons approached, the Sept's bells began to ring furiously at first, but after a few moments more rhythmically as the defenders evidently realized they were not under attack. Gaemon scowled beneath his visor. The sight of dragons in these parts has only meant terror for the people below for the better part of a year. He clutched the handle of his whip tightly. Maegor and I will have to rectify that.
As the Cannibal made its final descent, it let out a rumbling roar, which was echoed by the Grey Ghost. Circling the castle thrice in ever lower circles, he finally brought his dragon to rest outside its walls on the hill's gentle slopes. Maegor landed nearby, and both were in the process of undoing their saddle chains when the gates of the castle were thrown open, revealing an impromptu procession that made its way down the hill to greet them. Judging by the naked maiden dancing on his tabard, the group was led by Lord Piper, whose red hair fell in dense curls about his head. As the lord approached, Gaemon could see the beginnings of a wispy mustache growing about his upper lip. Behind the Lord came a Septon, a Maester, and several knights, along with the better part of the castle's garrison, which appeared to be composed mostly of older men and green boys, clutching their spears tightly.
As the party approached, Maegor took his place beside him, and began to speak quietly. "It appears that we've already missed most of the war, Gaemon. I can think of no greater sign of grievous losses than levies composed solely of the young and old."
He nodded slightly in response. "I thought the same. But we'd best not point it out to them. Mayhaps these boys lost fathers at the Red Fork, or at Acorn Hall. It'd be cruel to remind them. Besides, Lord Piper seems to be doing the best he can to give us as grand a reception as is possible given the circumstances."
A few moments later, the Lord and his procession had reached the two seeds. The young man bowed low before he began to speak: "Greetings, good Sers. We of House Piper are honored to once more be the hosts to dragonriders. Your arrival gladdens our hearts, as Vhagar has burned villages only a few leagues away. Mayhaps Aemond intended to strike us next."
With a wave of his hand, he beckoned the Septon forward. The older man brought forward a loaf of bread, fresh from the castle's kitchens, as well as a wooden bowl of salt. Gaemon and Maegor each tore a piece from the warm loaf, dipping it in the salt before consuming it. To do so, they each had to remove their helms, and Gaemon was sure he did not miss a quickly suppressed look of surprise flit across Lord Piper's features when they did so. He's probably shocked to see we look so alike. Was that what I looked like to Prince Jacaerys when he bid me to rise? He felt for the fallen Prince at that moment, wondering how many times he'd received looks that conveyed such subtle shock or disappointment.
Clearing his throat, he responded to the Lord. "We thank you for your hospitality, my Lord. We have every intention of rooting the Kinslayer out and bringing him to justice."
Stanton Piper smiled. "Before I show you about the castle, might we be introduced to your mounts? Pinkmaiden has not been host to such creatures since the progresses of the Old King."
Gaemon nodded. Turning, he walked a few paces back to the Cannibal, placing a gauntleted hand on its snout. It let loose a barely perceptible snort but otherwise offered nothing in the way of a protest.
"This is the Cannibal. Tis an ugly moniker, but sadly rather appropriate. He's a mean old bugger, and before I brought him to heel had a rather unfortunate habit of dining on younger dragons he could catch around Dragonstone."
Maegor had likewise reached the Grey Ghost, and gave it an endearing pat on a grey flank before speaking: "This is the Grey Ghost. He's a rather shy fellow, but I'm told no living dragon possesses his speed." Smiling absentmindedly, he continued. "I am told that a race between him and Princess Rhaenys' Meleys would have been a legendary affair."
Lord Piper and the assembled entourage behind him had adopted expressions of awe, and many approached as close as they dared. Gaemon hoped internally that the Cannibal would behave, as he desperately hoped to make a good impression. To his pleasure, the beast made no attempt to devour any of the garrison.
After a few moments of silent admiration, Lord Piper spoke up. "Thank you Sers. This has been a real treat. After your long flight, I am sure that you long to be rid of your armor, and to be able to change into something more comfortable. If you'll be so kind as to follow me."
With those words, he turned around and began to stroll back up the hillside. Gaemon followed, but not before turning to give the Cannibal one final look, as if to say: stay. It's only response was to exhale smoke and regard him with a glowing emerald eye. A few moments later, they had entered under the castle's portcullis into the courtyard, where smallfolk bustled about, fulfilling their morning duties. A smith was busy hammering out spearheads, and a boy chased a chicken about the yard. The garrison dispersed, taking positions about the courtyard and on the battlements, their eyes watching the gray morning skies. Lord Piper, flanked by both his Maester and Septon, pushed into the keep itself, and the remaining members of their party entered the keep's great hall. Pinkmaiden's main hall was a respectable size, probably capable of sitting around three hundred souls. Gaemon realized the Red Keep and Dragonstone had given him warped perceptions of what to expect from the average castle. At least I've not seen an iron spike or draconic gargoyle yet. Instead, Pinkmaiden's hall was filled with three rows of tables, with the Lord's table positioned at the back of the hall. Several hearths burned along its sides, and beautiful, if somewhat faded tapestries were hung from its walls, depicting maidens dancing through fields and forests.
Their path took them up one of Pinkmaiden's towers, into a spacious bedchamber. It too was lavishly decorated. Many pieces of furniture had been moved to the sides of the room to make space for two beds and trunks. Lord Piper turned to face them, his hands on his hips.
"I've made my own bedchamber available for your stay; I'll hear no protests. Once you've unpacked, rested, and changed, please join me below. It's not much, but I have arranged for a welcoming feast."
As he made to leave, Gaemon handed him the letter the Queen had sent along with him, saying: "My Lord, with the accommodations you have made, I hardly think this necessary, but the Queen asked I deliver this to you personally."
Lord Piper took it gracefully with a nod, before departing from the chambers. Two servants entered, helping both seeds out from their plate, and placing the pieces on stands in the chamber. Afterwards, they exited wordlessly, after offering polite bows.
Gaemon was going to ask Maegor how long they ought to stay, but when he turned, the other seed was already splayed out across his bed, clearly already asleep. Smirking, he reached into his satchel, retrieving the letter Baela had dropped. Once more, he silently thanked Maegor for all the instructions he'd given him to read. Those candlelit lessons at Malda's inn seemed to have been centuries past from where he sat now. Breaking the waxen seal, he opened the letter to reveal its message. As he did, a silver lock of hair fell from within to his lap.
Gaemon,
I trust this letter finds you well. As you read this, you've likely already reached Pinkmaiden. My sister would never let me hear the end of it if she knew I had written to anyone, let alone a knight. For the sake of my pride, let us keep this between the two of us.
Firstly, I want to wish you the best of luck. As you ride to war, know that you'll never be far from my thoughts. I desperately wish I could take my Moondancer along to help, but a certain Royal has forbade it. So bring Aemond to justice for the both of us.
Secondly, as I wrote this, it occurred to me this will be your first time exploring the further reaches of Westeros. Does the world seem a bit larger now? Sometimes it is easy to forget just how little most of the people of the Seven Kingdoms are able to travel. We, as dragonriders, have been given one of the greatest gifts in the known world, wouldn't you agree?
Thirdly, I have a request. By now you'll have noticed that I've included a lock of my hair. Whilst I had intended to cut it for convenience's sake anyways, it serves an additional purpose. If you have not realized it already, both you and the other seeds will be amongst the most desired matches in the Seven Kingdoms. Perhaps it is petty of me, but I don't wish to receive any ravens announcing a match between a certain seed and any Pipers. So I've enclosed a bit of a reminder, and an incentive, to remind you of what you've left behind.
Yours truly,
Baela Targaryen
P.S. If you do indeed choose another girl, I must remind you Moondancer is always hungry. Likewise, if I ever stray, I must ask that you consider allowing the Cannibal to make a meal of any such suitors.
A wry smile had spread across Gaemon's features as he read. He pulled the leather pouch around his neck from beneath his shirt, and tucked the lock into it. Although he regretted doing so, he let the letter fall from his grasp into the brazier that burned in the center of the room. As the parchment curled and was consumed, the flames danced. At that moment he realised just how heavy his eyes had become. He sat back on the bed, before falling backwards onto the pillow. Sleep took him quickly.
He was awoken some time later by shouting. He shot up, scanning the chamber. Across from him Maegor was writhing on his bed, holding his hands above his head as if to shield his face. Springing up, Gaemon raced across the room, grabbing Maegor's arms, trying to shake him awake. As he did so, he noticed just how dark the circles under his friend's eyes had become, and how exhausted he looked, even asleep. Eventually, his friend awoke, looking in a semi-panic about the chamber. To Gaemon's relief, he did not lash out, and regained a semblance of awareness quickly. Taking a few steps back to give him space, his friend sat up, shaking his head.
"For how long have your dreams tormented you, Maegor?" Gaemon asked, concerned. He knew the other seed had always had vivid dreams, but this seemed to be a new variety.
Maegor shrugged. "For weeks now. Every time I close my eyes." He glanced at Gaemon with a guarded expression. He seemed to be contemplating saying something, but instead just sighed. "I suppose we've rested long enough. We shouldn't keep our host waiting for much longer."
Gaemon nodded, unsure whether to press him further. He decided against it. Turning, he opened the chest at the foot of his bed, and began rummaging for appropriate attire. Becoming amused, he turned with a grin to his friend.
"It appears that our host intends for us to go about attired as Pipers for the duration of our stay."
Maegor nodded amusedly, lifting a blue doublet accented with white silk from his chest.
Only a few moments later they had descended the steps, attired in the finest of their new clothing. The great hall was already bustling, with servants moving about setting tables as household knights came in from the yard. Lord Piper himself sat at the high table, and beckoned them forward.
"I am most pleased to see that your garments fit. I hope you will forgive me for clothing you in my House's colors, but I daresay they look quite dashing on you."
Seats remained open to his right and left, and Gaemon and Maegor were quick to fill them. As the hall filled with the castle's inhabitants, the Lord's table welcomed its newest occupants, with Lord Stanton's two sisters entering the hall. They were tall, and must have only been a year or so apart in age. Clad in dresses whose colors matched the scheme on their guest's doublets, they each claimed a seat next to each of the seeds. I wonder if Baela has the ability to see the future, Gaemon thought to himself.
He stood as Lord Stanton introduced him to "his eldest sister, Melony." Bowing, he took her hand, placing a kiss upon it as he had seen others do at court. She blushed, curtseying in return before taking her seat. Sitting down next to her, he was about to offer a witty remark when Lord Stanton stood and raised his glass.
"A most hearty welcome to Pinkmaiden's most auspicious guests. Let us all make them feel most welcome in our home this evening, as they have come to rid us of the Terror of the Trident."
A great cheer rose in the hall, and cups and tankards were pounded on the tables as knights and men-at-arms hollered their support. The cheers grew even louder as the main course was brought in, with servants carrying roast hogs seasoned with herbs and with apples in their mouths. Three servants each brought a hog to a table, two holding it on the spit whilst the third cut portions of the meat off to serve to the guests. Freshly baked brown loaves of bread were also brought in, with bowels of butter alongside. Whilst it wasn't the grandest fare Gaemon had ever had, he appreciated it nonetheless, especially in this time of hardship. It didn't hurt that he was starving, either.
As he cut into his pork, a servant filled his mug with ale. He could not help but notice Melony Piper's eyes on him. She was a pretty girl, to be sure. Blonde of hair with a sprinkling of freckles across her cheeks, she had dark blue eyes of a color much like that of the Red Fork that flowed nearby. For the sake of politeness, he made sure to thoroughly chew his meal, washing it down with his ale, before turning to speak.
"I do wish to thank you and your family for being such excellent hosts, my Lady. I realize that a feast such as this is no easy affair with a war going on."
Melony smiled. "Think nothing of it. We are ever so grateful to the Queen for sending you to us. You've no idea how tiresome it is to spend every day watching the skies for any sign of our doom approaching. I'd guess that this will be the first night of good sleep anyone in this castle has had in quite a while."
Gaemon nodded. "Well, we certainly are pleased to provide solace in such trying times." He pondered how to proceed. Luckily, Melony had come prepared.
"Is this your first time in the Riverlands, good Ser?"
"It is. In all honesty, it is my first time outside of King's Landing. Before that, I had spent all my days on Dragonstone."
Her eyes shone with interest. "What is Dragonstone itself like? I've only heard stories about the home of the Dragonlords."
"It's beautiful, in its own bleak way. Stoney green fields and hills rising up from the sea, with the Dragonmont itself sitting at the center of the island. Its fires are supposedly what makes the dragons grow."
"I hesitate to be so bold, but might I see your dragon at some point? I've never seen such a creature myself, and I'd never forgive myself for not asking."
Gaemon smiled. "He is a bit… cantankerous, but I am sure that can be arranged. Tomorrow, before we fly, you can see us off."
That brought another smile to Melony Piper's face. "Oh, that would be perfect! You wouldn't mind, would you Stanton?"
Gaemon turned, realising that his host had been following their conversation. With a grin, Lord Stanton gave his assent, to which Melony clapped her hands together in excitement. Many questions followed, concerning what his dragon liked to eat (oxen, mostly), how hot were its flames (very, hot enough to melt armor), what it was like to fly (amazing, one of the best sensations in the world).
"One of?" Asked Lady Melony, raising a playfully inquisitive eyebrow.
Gaemon chuckled. "Yes, one of the best." He swirled his ale. "There are only a few others that could possibly match it."
"And those might be?" Melony asked, her lips curling ever so slightly into a grin.
Gaemon leaned back in his seat. "Well, for instance, feasting with such pleasant company as this."
His companion rolled her eyes. "I am quite certain that as compelling as we Pipers may be, our conversation cannot be said to be that irreplaceable."
Gaemon shook his head. "I am afraid that it is, my dear. I cannot imagine what else, other than flying, could surpass good conversation."
Melony Piper sighed, evidently entertained but annoyed with his coy response. She then extended her hand. "Perhaps dancing might jog your memory?"
He shrugged. "Mayhaps. But I should warn you, I am a terrible dancer."
It was now her turn to shrug. "I assure you, it matters not. I will lead."
With that, he acquiesced. Taking her hand, he allowed himself to be led to the center of the hall, as the tables were pushed to the sides. Glancing about him, he saw knights, pulling laughing serving girls to the floor, and Maegor himself was being led by Lord Stanton's younger, red-haired sister. In the torchlight, they began to dance, with Gaemon allowing himself to be coached through the basic steps. A band had taken up, playing a tune on their lutes, drums, and flutes. He wasn't familiar with it, but it had an infectiously festive sound. He was relieved that his partner had picked a relatively simple dance, and her sister appeared to have picked the same. The knights and other dancers followed suit, so each couple danced in a simple box step whilst rotating in a gradual circle about the hall.
As the music picked up, Melony smiled, and she bid him raise his hand, whereupon she whirled away from him, laughing as she spun, before twirling back towards him, allowing herself to be caught in his arms.
As she laughed, she spoke: "See? You aren't half bad at dancing!"
He smiled back, and as he raised her upright, he blinked. In the brief moment in which his eyes were closed, he saw a face staring back at him, but instead of blonde hair, and blue eyes, silver hair and purple eyes regarded him. He frowned. Baela was right. Wiping the frown from his features, he grinned back.
"I suppose you are right, my Lady. But any talent I have, I must thank my teacher for." With that, he kissed her hand. "But to my deepest regret, I fear I must retire. My day will begin at dawn tomorrow, and I'll need to be as well rested as possible in order to make sure my hosts are well protected."
Melony studied him, the slightest of frowns appearing momentarily. As quickly as it had appeared, however, it was gone. A warm smile replaced it.
"Well, given the circumstances, I understand, Ser. But you have not escaped further lessons in the art of dance."
"I would never presume to attempt to do so, my Lady. But now I must bid you goodnight." Bowing as best he could, he strode from the hall. After he had ascended the steps to the Lord's bedchamber, he found a pitcher of mulled wine that a servant must have left for the riders within. Pouring himself a glass, he drank deeply. He pondered the evening, feeling guilt, but both with regards to Baela, and Lady Melony. After refilling his cup, he drank, and as he considered what his next actions must be, he steadied himself against one of the pieces of furniture. It was only as his hand grew warmer that he noticed he had grabbed the side of the burning brazier. Shocked, he withdrew his hand. That brazier must be hot enough to burn the skin off my body.
Glancing at his hand, he affirmed it was unscathed. As he tentatively extended his hand once more to test it, he was distracted by the flames themselves. As they danced, it seemed that shapes danced with them. Leaning closer, he thought he could see a forest through the flames. More startlingly, however, was that two pairs of eyes seemed to be regarding him through the fire. He blinked and leaned closer, but when his eyes opened, the watchers were gone, as was the fiery forest. For the next few minutes, he stared intently at the flames as they licked and danced about the brazier, but he saw no more signs of whatever he had seen lurking within them previously. I feel as though I must be mistaken- but then again, the vision seemed so real. It had almost been as though he could feel the presence of others in the chamber.
He jumped as the door to the chamber creaked open behind him. Maegor entered, grinning. Gaemon quickly adjusted his expression, pushing his foreboding thoughts aside.
"It certainly seems as though Lord Piper's youngest sister has caught a certain seed's eye." He said with a smile.
Maegor reddened slightly. "Lady Catelyn is a charming woman, to be sure. I was surprised that you departed so early. It seemed as though Lady Melony was every bit as endearing."
Gaemon nodded. "She was. I was loath to leave, but… well I suppose I simply felt I was desperately in need of rest."
Maegor raised an eyebrow, but didn't challenge his explanation.
Gaemon sighed. He emptied the last of his cup, before returning it to its tray. Taking off his ceremonial attire, he retired to his bed. Unlike earlier, it took a good while for sleep to take him.
A/N: Hello again, everyone! With this chapter, the seeds have been dispatched on their fateful errands. Only time will tell what will come of them. The search for the Terror of the Trident begins, and in this timeline, the Pipers have been honored with the presence of dragonriders. I'm sure the Mootons are a bit saddened to not be the sole recipients of such an honor. I want to thank everyone for leaving the follows, favorites, and comments that they have; the feedback on Veron and Hobert recently was awesome. Please continue to do so if you feel so compelled; seeing people passionate about the story is a great incentive to continue writing. Until the next time- Belisarius55