Chapter 3: The Young Seahorse

106 AC

I stared at the opponent before me. The squire was five years older, almost a full head taller, and fifty pounds heavier than me.

It was alright for me. We used the same wooden sword. Clad in the same helmet and gambeson. Our plain heater shield was the same as well.

The boy was well trained; that was obvious. However, he didn't outskill me.

I swung my blade, and the dance began.

We exchanged attacks in a back-and-forth ritual. Swing, block, and parry. Swing, block, and parry. We were only testing each other for now, finding our rhythm and pace, and scrutinizing our opponents. We broke after what was maybe our sixth move, appraising each other.

Then we resumed the bout in earnest.

This time the squire struck faster and stronger than before, and I answered. He sought the gaps within my defense, but I turned his wooden sword aside and blocked the few that made it through. Once a chance presented itself, I feinted an attack to his midsection that changed into a vicious cut to his chin that he backstepped away from.

I didn't allow him time to reorient himself and continued stepping inside his guard. The opponent was stronger, and the only way to win was by seizing initiative.

I locked his sword, twisted it, and pulled his sword downward. I couldn't fully disarm him, but I did open his right defense wide. I slammed my shield against his open torso, hoping to stagger him.

The squire widened his stance and took my shield with some effort. His greater mass helped him absorb my attack, and I couldn't unbalance him as much as I wanted to.

However, just that slight stagger was a good enough opportunity. I clinched him as I dodged his desperate counter and hooked my leg behind his legs. With one sweep, both of us tumbled to the dirt below, me above him. I used my better position to recover quickly and aimed my sword at his eye slits.

There was a reason why knightly martial arts focused so heavily on grappling, and that was because we always assumed our foes were armoured from head to toe, and the best way to kill an armoured foe was to slam them into the ground and stab them through the eye slits.

I took all those lessons to heart.

"That's enough!" Bellowed Ser Dennis Ridgehook.

I stood up and dusted myself a bit before offering my hand to the squire. Ser Dennis continued his shout once both of us were on our feet.

"Well fought, both of you. You used all that you had learned in that bout. However, there are still too many mistakes!"

His eyes moved to the squire first.

"Bryce! Do you know where your mistake is?"

The glum squire answered almost immediately. "That I was pulled to an opponent's pace."

"Correct, but there was more than that. It was because you backstepped away from that attack to your chin. Do you think the shield to your left is an ornament? That was a perfect opportunity to break your opponent's rhythm and take the pace! And how in the seven hells did you lose to a younger boy in grappling?! Did you not pratice grappling at all?!"

Ser Dennis took a few seconds to regain his breath before he shifted his attention to me.

"And you. Do you know what's your mistake, Corwyn?"

I pondered it for a few seconds before answering. "Trying to match strength against someone bigger?"

"Yes. Binding your blades and slamming at your opponent is a good choice if your strength and size are at least equal to his, but against a stronger opponent, that was foolish! That worked for you in this bout because Bryce here can't grapple worth a damn. But remember. Always. Always! Keep in mind the difference between you and your opponent! Leverage your advantage and deny your opponent his strength!"

I nodded. "Ser. Yes, ser."

Ser Dennis glanced at the sun above. "Good. Then cool yourself down, both of you. You have other duties to attend to."

I put down my wooden sword and pulled a blunted tourney sword, the smallest we have, and swung. Ser Dennis' cooldown exercise consisted of twenty swings of the sword with each arm and another twenty with both. It was good to build up strength and endurance, he said, and more familiarity with the blade was always a good thing.

Physical conditioning was a big focus of my exercise routine. At first, I wasn't allowed to even hold a wooden sword. Instead, he had me run, sprint, jumps, and wrestle in the yard. A necessity, he called it. All the skills in the world wouldn't help me if I was too tired to even lift my weapon after a mere five swings.

I dutifully followed his training, of course. His words made sense.

It was a few months after that before he even gave me a wooden sword. I remembered the first time he asked me if I knew how to grasp one, along with his unimpressed look when I answered 'by the hilt'.

As I spent more time training with the blade, I couldn't help but feel a strangely familiar sense of understanding. How to grasp the sword. How to swing. How to stab. How to parry. It all felt incredibly easy to me.

It didn't take long before I found that I possessed a great talent for the sword. I absorbed any lesson quickly and tend to win my spars easily, to the point I exclusively trained with older squires now. I thought it was just my father's men flattering me at first, but no one flattered my archery yet.

Did talent come from the body or the soul? I couldn't tell, for I had never touched a sword in my previous life. Did I always possess the talent with the sword without knowing it, or did I only receive the talent in my second life?

A question for another time.

I finished my cooldown exercise and gathered my practice swords. Our master-at-arms was peculiar about us returning our equipment to the armoury— something about good habits and discipline. Once that was done, I continued my usual schedule, which meant a quick coldwater bath and a lunch. After that, my lessons with the maester. The schedule I've been following for the better part of two years.

I found the rest of the family already seated in the dining hall when I made my way there.

The last few years have gone well for Laenor and Laena. Laenor was growing taller and more handsome, and Laena was growing more elegant and beautiful. The both of them spent their time flying with their dragons all the time, and oft invited me to join.

Perhaps they felt bad for me not having my own dragon, as Driftmark had no masterless dragon left to claim. I didn't care much about such things, but I never refused their offer either.

Father and Mother were there too. Father's beard was as meticulous as ever, and Mother's hair was styled in a loose braid she has favoured lately.

Soon the servants came with the food, along with my usual choice. Bread and butter, smoked herring, a boiled egg, and an apple. I found simpler fare to taste better after practice.

As was our habit, we spent the lunch time talking of all manner of things, of ships and dragons, merchants and nobility, and whatever else came to mind. However, I belatedly noticed that Father and Mother were silent. That usually meant they had something to say to us.

True enough, once the meal was finished and the table cleared, Father began speaking. To my surprise, it was directed at me.

"Corwyn," he started. "I hear you show promise in swordsmanship."

I dabbed my mouth with a napkin. That doesn't sound all that important. "So they say, Father."

"And your riding lessons?" He continued.

"It's progressing well. I can ride regular horses now." Riding horses was also another thing that came naturally to me, to my bewildered gratitude.

"How's your etiquette study?"

Laena shared a curious glance with Laenor. Whatever Father was planning, they were not aware of it.

"I know how to tell nods and bows apart, how deep I am supposed to bow in the presence of a king or fellow lords, and how to greet ladies, highborn or not. I also know all the heraldry in Crownlands and plenty of the more prominent houses in the rest of the seven kingdoms."

"And your dancing lessons?"

Now I was beyond suspicious. Father never cared about my dancing lessons.

"I only know two: the slow steps and the three parts. Anything more complicated is beyond me right now." I said.

Father mulled it over. "Acceptable."

Now my curiosity has peaked. "Acceptable for what, father? Will we receive a distinguished guest soon that make you be afraid of my etiquette so?"

Father took a sip of his arbor gold. "We will not be having any guests. On the contrary, we will send you away instead." He said.

Laenor was surprised, and Laena looked in askance. Mother, though, only observed us with a dispassionate expression on her face.

Father remained calm as he waited for my response, and I resisted the urge to sigh and roll my eyes. Father loves his silly games. Education, he called it.

"Am I to be fostered, then?" I asked.

"In a manner of speaking." He said. "You're of an age to be made a page, and King Viserys had agreed to make you one of his. Perhaps even a squirehood with one of the Kingsguard Knights once you're of an age."

I blinked. "That's quite an honour, Father. Though I must admit surprise. Why have I never told this before?"

"Because it's been an uncertain thing, that's all. We made the offer a few months ago, and it wasn't until last night do we receive the King's acceptance."

I couldn't help but feel excited. Relative independence at my age wasn't something I'd even considered before, and yet I found it tempting nonetheless. Add that to living in the Royal Castle and being witness to possible historical moments in the making?

My answer should be obvious.

"If that's your will, then I had no reason to disobey, father." I said.

Father allowed a rare smile to grace his face. He likely noticed my excitement too. "Good, though there's no reason for you to be hasty yet. You won't leave for another month."

Mother put her goblet down. "Make sure to pack everything you need when you still have the chance, Corwyn. And always keep your wits with you. King's Landing has more adders and daggers than you know."

It didn't escape me that Mother hadn't talked at all about my being sent to King's Landing until now. Did she have her reservation? She was wroth at King Viserys when we heard the news of Queen Aemma's death, blaming him for pushing her too hard and too early. Was she reluctant to send me, or was there something else I was not privy to?

"I will always be careful, mother." I said

For the second time in my life, I set foot in King's Landing.

We made a good time as we moved through the crowded city to the Red Keep. I rode the black stallion gifted to me by Father, whom I have taken to name The Void. Along with me were Ser Dilon Dustmoor, one of our household knights, and two men-at-arms, Lan and Rykert.

Mother had wanted me to take thrice of that numbers, though I insisted otherwise. Any more, and the King might take offense, as that implied we didn't trust his ability to protect his guests.

I passed a group of city watchmen on my way, their golden cloaks fluttering in the breeze. Many citizens have taken to calling them the Gold Cloaks, lately. Another reminder of Daemon's tenure as their Lord Commander.

Much has changed since the time I visited three years ago.

Oh, the city itself looked the same, but not the people. Good Queen Aemma was gone. Prince Daemon was exiled.

I couldn't claim familiarity with either, as I've only known them for a month. And yet the image of the kind woman who once feasted me was still clear in my mind, along with the arrogant rogue.

The Queen had passed away a few months ago from a difficult childbirth, along with the babe. As for Prince Daemon, he was exiled for an 'uncouth remark about the King's son', according to Mother. Whatever uncouth words he shared, it was the wrong thing to say to a man grieving for his wife and son, and even King Viserys' patience had a limit.

He didn't just exile Daemon; he set him aside as an heir and made sure to have all the lords swear to Rhaenyra as the Crown Princess.

I identified myself as Corwyn Velaryon to the guards of the Red Keep. They were wearing the black and red tunics of House Targaryen, their halberds on the side.

One of the guards looked at me and said, "Lord Corwyn, you are expected. His Grace should be in the Great Hall right now."

I gave my thanks to the guards and stabled our horses. As we made our way to the Great Hall I encountered a familiar person clad in a pale green dress. Dark brown hair spilled forth in a mass of gentle curls framing her beautiful face.

"Lady Alicent, it's been a long time." I greeted her.

"Lord Corwyn." She answered my greeting with a mild surprise. "I don't know the Velaryons are visiting."

"There's just me, I'm afraid. My family sent me here to serve His Grace as a page."

She made an o with her mouth. "Oh, it must've escaped my mind at one point." She smiled kindly at me. "In that case, let me accompany you. I was on my way to His Grace myself. The last petitioner should be done away by this time."

I accepted her gracious offer, and together we made our way to the king, nattering about this or that. It didn't take long for us to reach the Great Hall, and the crowd was much thinner this late in the afternoon.

I saw the king at the base of the Iron Throne, flanked by two of his Kingsguard. He had grown noticeably stouter since the last time I met him, and his face was more somber, though he brightened considerably when he saw us.

"Alicent." He acknowledged her. "And Corwyn. I hope your journey here is pleasant?"

I bowed. "The journey is blessedly calm, Your Grace, and my way here is pleasant. My family bids me to serve you as a page."

He put his hand on my shoulder. "Good lad. I'll have a suitable room prepared. For now, will you accompany us to Maegor's Holdfast?"

"I will be most honoured, Your Grace."

So the three of us leisurely wandered through the Red Keep and talked with each other, though it was more the King and Alicent, with me having a vague sense of unease.

The reality of living as a ward of the King wasn't so different from my life in Driftmark.

I kept much of my old schedule. I practiced in the yard in the morning and attended the Grand Maester's lesson at noon. If there was any difference, it was that I attended King Viserys' court and saw him give judgment far more often than I did in Father's court.

King Viserys' court was much more exciting than Father's, I admitted. Everyone, from squabbling farmers to feuding lords came here to beg for the King's justice. In Driftmark, the best we got were quarrelsome fishermen every month.

I also learned that being a page meant my duty included being a glorified servant. Oft did I spend my time attending the King's meeting just to serve him wine. Of course, they only had me when they were discussing things of lesser importance.

My duties and age meant I often shared the company of Princess Rhaenyra, as she was the official cupbearer of the King, and we often took lessons together. She had a fief of her own in Dragonstone after the King officially appointed her as the Crown Heir, though her age meant her lands were entrusted to a Castellan until she was fully grown.

It didn't take long for me to adapt, and as such, life passed for a few more months.

It was late in the morning in the yard. Many knights, squires and guards were already hard at work. Hitting on wooden dummies or other humans clad in steel and padded suits. A score of spectators milled about, watching as we practiced.

There was an air of excitement this morning, as the Princess was among those watching from the edge of the yard. She did that from time to time, and the men (and boys) were always more eager to show their prowess to the princess of the realm.

My opponent was a lanky Westerling boy. My third, so far, after a stout reacher squire and a Mooton's distant cousin. Red Keep's yard had a much greater choice of opponents from all Seven Kingdoms than our humble High Tide, and I had faced all forms of sword techniques in my two months here.

His reach was greater than mine, though it didn't help him pierce my defense. His footwork was less nimble, and he had a habit of overcommitting too early. I had exploited that habit twice, yet he didn't seem to notice. I feinted a telegraphed swing to the left and punished him with a hard strike to his sword hand as he took the bait.

I huffed as his sword clattered to the ground. This was a good amount of practice. "Well fought."

"Corwyn."

Rhaenyra called out my name in a voice just loud enough to be heard. I turned away and walked over to where she stood at the edge of the yard.

"Princess. May I help you?"

She eyed me a bit. "I've seen you spar many times before. I noticed you always spar against older opponents, and very rarely did you lose."

I hummed. "A fruit of long practice and the tutelage of an able knight."

"If long practice alone is enough to make someone great, everyone will be equal in skill. What say you, Ser Criston?"

The handsome knight merely nodded his head. "Lord Corwyn Velaryon is blessed by the Warrior himself. I've never seen anyone fight that well at that age."

"Thank you, Ser. That's high praise, coming from the man who bested Prince Daemon twice." I said.

"Ah," Ser Criston looked bashful. "Men overstate my victories too much, and the stories have a habit of growing. It was closer than most think and took some amount of luck besides."

"Nonsense. You won against my uncle fairly and honourably, Ser. You should take pride in that." Rhaenyra chimed in.

I noticed Rhaenyra took delight in teasing her Sworn Sword. For all he was her most favoured White Cloak, it didn't spare him much.

I decided to rescue brave Ser Criston from the little menace. "Ser Criston's humility speaks well of his character, as any knight should. Speaking of, is there a reason why the Princess called for me?"

Rhaenyra blinked, as if she just remembered something. "Oh, yes. Corwyn, accompany me to the Dragonpit."

I paused. "I'd love to, though perhaps it'd be better if we did that after I cleaned myself."

Rhaenyra just waved her hand. "No point. You barely sweat in the yard, and you'll just get yourself dirty again soon enough. Don't make me wait any longer."

Left with no choice, I followed her as the three of us made our way to the stable and took our horses, or at least Ser Criston and me. Rhaenyra opted to take the carriage.

We didn't have much opportunity to talk as we made our way to the Rhaenys' hill until we finally arrived.

"Can you guess the reason why I brought you here?" Rhaenyra asked me as we trekked to one of the side doors.

"My first guess would be to see dragons. Is Syrax well?" I said.

"Well enough, though it's not just Syrax that I want to share with you." She said.

The Dragonkeepers on guard greeted us as we made our way past one of the sturdy oaken doors. Inside was the cavernous chamber I remembered from my childhood. Time had not shrunk it much compared to my memories. The dome, the pillars, all of it were designed at such a scale that only giants and dragons could stay inside without feeling overwhelmed.

We were conversing as we climbed down to the undervaults.

"Have you flown with dragons before, Corwyn? I'm sure Princess Rhaenys has flown you on Meleys before, correct?" Rhaenyra asked.

A Princess Rhaenyra was talking about a Princess Rhaenys. Outsiders would find our conversation confusing quickly.

"Yes, back in my childhood. Though I barely remembered those. Lately, Laena and Laenor often brought me flying every chance they got. Laenor did it the day before my departure as well." I said.

She smiled mishievously.

"I see. That's good; that means you have no fear of dragons or flying. Have you ever seen King's Landing from above?"

I didn't like where this conversation was going.

"No, Princess. We never fly that far from home." I answered.

Rhaenyra's grin was wide. "Good, because I'm bringing you on Syrax today. The sky is especially clear today, perfect for our purpose."

"Princess..., it's not proper for a boy and a lady to ride alone, on horses or dragons alike. Such a thing might cause unworthy whispers." I said.

She laughed at that. "By the gods, Corwyn. You're acting as if Syrax is a place of ill-repute. Nothing will come from this, I swear."

It's easy for you to say. Your father is the King. Mine isn't.

I mouthed 'help me' to Ser Criston.

"King Viserys would mislike it if you brought a boy alone, Princess." He said.

"Father gave me leave to ride Syrax whenever I please, so long as I have no present duties. You can't stop me either, Ser." Rhaenyra answered him curtly.

Ser Criston looked at me and shrugged. I gave him a nod of understanding.

We found Syrax curled up in her usual corner, napping comfortably. Rhaenyra wasn't discouraged, however. She roused the she-dragon awake and dragged the yawning, half-awake dragon outside.

Soon enough, we flew up to the aptly named Dragon Gate, and followed the wall to the south. The plan was to simply circle the city by following the wall.

Rhaenyra kept the flight at a leisurely pace. Syrax was a fast dragon, slim and graceful, but there was no point in tiring her so needlessly. She spent most of the time simply gliding instead of flapping her wings.

Rhaenyra let out a laugh. "What do you think?"

The cold wind in my face felt good, and the sun was gentle. The sight surrounding us was as magnificent as always. I was reminded of home, of flying above Driftmark and Spicetown and the Narrow Sea.

"It's beautiful." I said. "I can see why you do this so often."

She laughed again. "Nothing cheers me up half as much as flying on Syrax." She paused after that, and when she spoke again, her tone morose.

"These last few months have been trying. Barely any day passed without me flying Syrax."

The Princess was close to the Queen, I knew. Being a royal meant a certain decorum must be maintained, but she was a child in the end. And a child missed her mother.

We continued taking and talking about all the views from above. Of the river in the west, mountains to the north, seas to the east, and forest to the south. Rhaenyra decided it was time to return after three full circuits around the city and brought Syrax to the Dragonpit where loyal Ser Criston was waiting.

We returned to the Red Keep, happily chattering all the time.

"The King has called for all nobles present in the Red Keep to make their way to the Great Hall!" The Herald announced in a booming voice.

I was in one of the many gardens within the Red Keep, sitting on a stone bench with a book in hand. Ser Dilon was sitting nearby, and there were plenty of others milling about in the garden. Enjoying the sight of flowers in bloom or simply wasting the day away.

I closed The Intriguing History of Andal Coinage by Archmaesten Warren and brought it with me. I could continue to read it later.

Whatever the urgent thing that the King wished to share, the heralds made no mention at all. They likely didn't know about it either. I and Ser Dilon went through the now-familiar route to the Great Hall at a measured pace.

We met plenty of nobility on our way there, and even more as we neared the Great Hall. Many were Lords and Knights of the Crownlands, though there were no small amount of nobility from other lands here for one purpose or another. The hall was slowly filling in as stewards and servants ushered us through the door.

I saw The King sat on the Iron Throne, that oversized chair made from a thousand blades. On the base of the throne room were many notables in the King's court. There was Princess Rhaenyra, of course, along with all the Kingsguard Knights and members of the Small Council. The Hand stood closest to the Iron Throne. His sharp eyes and hawkish nose made him appear as if he were a falcon hunting for a meal as his eyes swept the room.

Interestingly, I saw Alicent was among them as well.

A herald announced King Viserys to the crowd, listing all his titles as he did so. Superfluous, as it was unlikely anyone would mistake him for someone else. The highborns did love their ceremonies so.

"Lords and Ladies of Westeros." King Viserys Began. "There was a reason why I called all of you here. The last few months have been a difficult time for us. However, as a King, I still have my duties to the realm."

He gestured to his Hand, and when Lord Otto spoke, I noted a strange note of triumph in his voice. It didn't take long before the reason made itself known.

"On this day, in the ninth month of the third year of the reign of King Viserys, the First of His Name, we announced his marriage with Lady Alicent Hightower to be held in one month henceforth. May the Seven grant them happiness!"

Applause and cheers for the King filled the room, yet from Rhaenyra, I only saw coldly polite clapping.

Author Notes: There we go. A timeskip, and finally one more important step. Also we met with some more notable players.

Also it's about time I share the MC's choice. Here it is.

Jon Snow Mode: 1000 pts (Normal mode)

Origin: Warrior

Race: Human - Pureblooded Valyrian (-50)

Racial Perks: -

General Perks:

Social Climber - Lord (-100)

Origin Perks:

Littlefinger School of Persuasion (-100)

First Choice (-100)

Light Touch (-200)

A Coin in Little Fingers (-400)

Beautiful (-100)

A Proficient Warrior (0)

Unparalleled Rider (-100)

Genius Strategist (-200)

Sword of the Morning (-250)

Drawbacks: Distance Takes Time (100), Lore Friendly Resurrections (200), Eyecatching (300)

Tl;dr. The MC didn't pick any magical choice and instead focuses more on mundane skills. Mostly Martial and business skills, with some diplomacy and intrigue. While his skillset wasn't as flashy, he's plenty useful as it is.

As for dragons, the MC didn't take the option since it was rather expensive. That's why he didn't hatch an egg. He can still claim a dragon the old-fashioned way, but he just doesn't bother to for now because all the dragons left belong to the Targaryens, and he doesn't want to risk being treated like a horse thief over dragons. Whether he will claim one in the future though, that's spoilers.

Of course, if he knew what's going to happen, he'd try claim Vhagar as soon as possible. Ignorance is truly a bliss.

As always, reviews are welcome!