Chapter 5: Youths

109 AC

The youth was sitting down on a high-backed oaken chair with a lute in hand. His fingers elegantly danced across the board as he gently plucked each string and another hand held the chords. The song he played sounds very much like a drowning cat.

I clicked my tongue in annoyance. This is more difficult than I thought. At this point, it might be quicker to recreate a guitar than to learn this damnable thing.

However, before I could return to my likely futile attempt to master the lute, a commotion from the outside stopped me.

"Boy! Boy, I swear, if you run off your duties again I will-"

Ser Steffon Darklyn was a Kingsguard Knight who I have been squiring under for the last three months. A skilled knight and honorable man, but naggier than a fishwife. I took solace in knowing that not even his kinsman was spared his nags.

I peeked my head out the door. "Have no fear, ser; your breastplate is as shiny as the sun itself, and your sword is nearly as sharp as Valyrian steel. Feel free to inspect it yourself."

Ser Steffon barged in and inspected my handiwork. I had no fear that he would find something wrong with those. I spent way too many times polishing the breasplate and sharpening that sword again and again. Ser Steffon was a nag, but also a fair man.

"You did." He said after a pause. "You've done well, boy. Here I thought you ran away to play that godawful lute and torture everyone's ears."

"I always did my duty well, ser. Never once did I shirk from my order, no matter how petty or banal." I said. The job of a squire was half that of a knight-in-training and half a personal servant. Those who didn't have patience for later would likely lose their minds out of sheer boredom.

"Only to the letter and after giving way too many lips. Has it never crossed your mind to do something beyond your orders, boy?"

I shrugged. "It was a leader's duty to give clear and direct orders to his subordinates. Therefore, any misunderstandings caused by unclear orders always lie with the giver. Should a good ser wish for more to be done by his squire, he should say such."

Ser Steffon looked bemused. "Boy, I don't want to be told how to talk to my squires by my squire."

"I'm merely offering my opinion ser." I said with a charming smile. "Is there a reason for you to look for me?"

"Yes. I need to guard the king soon, and Harry needs a sparring partner. Go there and train with him." He barked.

I rose from my seat and took my blunted tourney sword and mace. I followed Ser Steffon as we walked out of the White Sword Tower, where I had lived for the past few months, to the sparring yard.

King Viserys once promised to squire me under a Kingsguard Knight and, true to his words, he did so the moment I was of squiring age and a vacancy was available. One of Ser Steffon's squires earned his spurs a few months ago, and his spot was given to me.

Rhaenyra wished for me to squire for Ser Criston. Unfortunately, Ser Criston already had two squires of his own, and more would be excessive. Besides, both of his squires were still young, and it'd be many more years before they could earn their spurs.

I found it a good sign that the king still took his promise seriously and treated me with all the courtesy possible, considering how my family made it obvious we were distancing ourselves from him.

It turned out that Father schemed to marry Laena to Viserys, and he was angry with how Lord Otto had stolen the march from him. He and the rest of the family refused to attend the wedding, and he even ordered me to come home.

I refused the summons back then, mostly because I wanted to avoid antagonizing the king too much. I must admit it was an awkward experience to attend the royal wedding by my lonesome, and that was only the start.

Many things have changed since then. Laena was now betrothed to the Sealord's son, and Father allied himself with Daemon to conquer the Stepstones.

More changes were happening in the capital.

Rhaenyra's relationship with her stepmother, Queen Alicent, continued to deterioriate. They were no longer content to even feign courtesy. Instead, every meeting was accompanied with glares and veiled insults. Whatever friendship they once shared is now nearly gone.

If it was just a family quarrel, then that would be the end of it. Unfortunately, when the Royal Family was quarreling, the realm was torn apart. Already, many courtiers had begun flocking to either Rhaenyra's or Alicent's side. This issue was slowly but surely growing into a likely succession crisis, and there was no easy way to stop it.

The problem with the succession was, which one would you choose to abide by? The King's words put Rhaenyra as his heir, but every single precedent put a son before a daughter.

One would think living in a monarchy meant the word of the king was law, but the reality wasn't always so clear. Not even the Dragon Kings could rule a realm as large as Westeros absolutely. Many men sought to limit and check the Crown's power, and in the absence of a constitution, they relied on tradition and precedent.

Men loyal and true chose their sides, while opportunists watched and waited for whichever one would reward them the most. The line on the sand hadn't been drawn yet, not with Rhaenyra being a child and Aegon a babe, but at this rate, it was just a matter of time. Rhaenyra was growing more stubborn, Alicent was growing bolder, and King Viserys was content with avoiding the issue entirely.

I must admit, while the idea of living through history thrills my inner historian, actually being in the middle of a wildfire pot as it was boiling was a less pleasant experience. I suppose that was the reason why living in interesting times was considered a curse.

And much like whenever I thought about this problem before, my mind drifted to the same question. What can I do?

Not much. I've asked myself the same question many times before, and the answer has remained the same. For all I had the front row seat to see how everything was inching ever closer to disaster, there was only precious few I could realistically do. My family was powerful, but I doubted either Father or Mother cared about my counsel for politics. I had no position or influence at court either. King Viserys was fond enough of me, but he wouldn't be swayed by a boy of one-and-ten about matters of the realm. I counted Rhaenyra my friend and Queen Alicent a good acquaintance, but there was nothing I could've done to stop them from their course.

There were times when I seriously considered murder, but the rational part of my mind always reminded me that it was a dangerous gamble. Besides, who should I murder to fix everything? Rhaenyra, the young princess, and my friend? Queen Alicent, the beloved of King Viserys? Should I get caught in the act, my fate would end painfully and bloodily.

And that would be a hasty option, truth be told. For all I know, nothing would come from this. Perhaps this was a crisis that would solve itself. Such things happened in history.

"Thinking dark thoughts?" A familiar voice spoke to me.

I glanced at the speaker. "Less dark, and more bright. This damnable sun is boiling me alive."

Harrold Darke, Ser Steffon's distant cousin and my fellow squire. He was two years older than me, tall and thin with dark curly hair and an easy roguish smile. The sort of man who could be friends with anyone quickly.

"At least you're only getting here now. I've been under the sun for gods know how long."

"No one forced you to train at this hour. The best time to practice in this season is always at dawn."

"Speak for yourself. Dawn is always the best time to sleep. Are you going to do this, or will you wait until winter comes again?"

I sighed and lifted my mace. Ser Steffon had encouraged me to train with other weapons, and I agreed. The sword was a versatile sidearm and an important symbol of knighthood, but it was a poor choice against a heavily armed foe. I've spent a few times training with all sort of weapons, and I found maces—the flanged one in particular—suited me best. A mace wasn't heavier than a sword, merely balanced differently. One also must be careful when they train with the mace, as unlike a sword, blunting them wouldn't reduce the danger they posed, and armour could only do so much.

We sparred against each other after that, under the shade of the tower. Harry was talented with a sword and stronger than he looked. There was a reason why his family sent him to squire with a Kingsguard. Few opponents near my age could give me as much challenge as he did, and I enjoyed the experience.

Unfortunately, not even the shades could shield us for long from the beastly sun, and we found ourselves sprawling on the ground soon enough, sweating like pigs.

"Damn you, Harry. Next time you make me spar on this sun, I'll put a rat in your stew."

"Bah. You're just too weak. A knight should always be ready to fight, no matter the condition."

So he said, though he hardly looked any better than me. I was busy uncorking my waterskin when he spoke again.

"The Queen's pregnancy. To think it has been barely a year since her last. Do you think it'll be a boy again?"

I took several greedy gulps of water before answering. "How should I know? Not even maesters can tell a babe's gender while in the womb."

He didn't say it, but he was concerned. Anyone with eyes to see and ears to hear could tell the situation was untenable. Harry wasn't the sort that cared about politics, but living here meant it was inevitable.

"Which one do you think will be better for the realm?"

A dangerous question. I wiped away my forehead before answering. "A second child will change nothing. Besides, it'll be none of our concern. How many sons and daughters a king has will not change anything for us second sons and distant cousins."

An obvious lie. Depending on how the situation develops, it could very much change everything. However, neither of us were comfortable with the reality, and thus we'd rather not talk about it.

It took him some time before he responded.

"True enough."

A maidservant handed over a stack of papers to me. "New letters for you, M'lord."

"I see." I accepted the letters from her hands and smiled. "Thank you for bringing this to me, Mysa. You may go."

I waited until the maidservant turned around and left before bringing my letters back to my chamber. My family was peculiar about writing once a month to me, and their letters were always sent in a bundle. Well, at least the one sent from Driftmark. Father had more difficulties with writing regularly, with the war and all.

However, this bundle had one letter with Father's name written on it. That was rare.

I stared at the unbroken seal for a moment before cracking it open with a snap and reading the letter inside. It began with the usual greetings and notes about how he sent this letter to Driftmark so it could be sent to me with the rest. Afterward, it was more confusing, as Father talked at length about his time in the Stepstones. That alone would not be unusual, but he also sent several details about the campaign itself. The letter also spoke about his great plan for the Stepstones in the near future, which he did not elaborate upon.

Was he preparing me for warfare? Father's intention was difficult to grasp at times.

I opened Mother's letter afterward. She started her letter with the usual well wishes, along with her desire to have me visit home more often. Unlike Father, though, her letter mostly talks about our home and family. Chiefly among them, she talked about Laena's betrothed.

I understood that the Sealord Nakilos Vynir, who was to be Laena's goodfather, died a while ago. Mother said Laena's betrothed, Vyrelos, moved to Driftmark last month and according to Mother he had proven a great disappointment. The son doesn't take after his father at all, was her exact words. Whereas Nakilos Vynir was a wise and respected statesman, his son was a foppish wastrel who squandered his father's legacy.

Needless to say, both my parents were having second thoughts about marrying him to Laena. Mother said she and Father were stalling their marriage until they could find a good reason to break the betrothal. Between King Viserys and this Sealord's son, I began to think that Father was just terrible at arranging betrothals. I could only hope he'd learned his lessons by the time it was my turn.

I opened Laenor's and Laena's letters after that. They talked at length about their dragons, their visit to Pentos, and of our home. However, chief of all, they wanted to see me more, something that brought a smile to my face. It was nice knowing you were missed.

Once done reading, I took up the quill and began penning my own letters.

The mood of the city has been jubilant lately. The Queen had given birth to a healthy young girl not a month ago, and the citizens of King's Landing toasted to the Royal family's health. King Viserys' peaceful reign was much beloved by the smallfolk.

Despite all that, I oft wondered if they could see the writing on the wall as well. The smallfolk cared not for the games of the nobility and much preferred peace and prosperity, but they were not witless. How many of them could glimpse the trouble brewing inside the Red Keep all the way from here? Were they truly ignorant, or did many of them already pick which heir they wanted to support, much like the courtiers?

Knowing them, they'd likely choose to ignore everything and hoped for the best. Truly the people of my own heart.

Harry and I were inside one of our regular taverns. We often spent our time drinking, gambling, or doing nothing in particular here whenever we wanted to be away from the Red Keep for whatever reason. Indulging in vices most unseemly? Nay, we were simply enjoying a page of our youth.

We didn't play any dice today, which I considered a blessing. Harry was a more moderate drinker than he was a gambler. The tavern wasn't as full at the time of the day; there were only a few Gold Cloaks on their break, and who seemed to be a traveling merchant was alone in a corner.

"Do you really think the king will hold a tourney to celebrate his daughter's birth?" I asked. Tourneys were a common interest for the both of us and therefore a frequent topic of conversation.

He gulped his ale. "Aye, and I didn't just think it. I heard it from some of the stewards. It will be announced In one month time at least. Planning to participate?"

"If they have a squire's tourney, perhaps." I said.

"Then don't keep your hopes up. There will be no Squire's tourney this time." Harry said it with a shrug. "Pity. I want to participate too."

"Then perhaps you can participate in the regular joust. Not all jousts bar anyone who's not a knight from participating." I said.

"Trust me, this one will. The only event you and I can participate in will be the archery." Harry made a face. "Bollocks. Once again, another tourney where I can't participate."

A pity indeed. Of all the weapons I've trained with, my skill with the bow was the most lacking. Harry was only marginally better than myself.

"Why are you in such a rush to join the tourneys anyway? Tourneys have existed for thousands of years. Your time will come eventually." I asked.

"Where else should we warriors earn our glory?" He shook his head. "No, the question should be, Why are you so uncaring? You always do well at the quintain. You can likely unhorse many of the knights on the list. Don't you dream of winning glory and earning the favors of maidens fair?"

I gave him a look. Harry always acts theatrical whenever he had a drink. "There's no need for such a rush. I want to participate in tourneys, of course. I just see no fault with waiting until there's one I can actually participate in."

There was a lull in our conversation after that. The Gold Cloaks rose from the seat and paid for their drinks before leaving the tavern, and I called the tavernkeep for another mugs of ale. Our talks didn't resume until they brought our drinks.

"Did you hear the rumor?" Harry asked in a low voice as he nursed his drink.

I leaned back on my chair. "Depends on what rumor we are talking about. What have you learned?"

"I heard that the Lord Hand will be dismissed soon." He said.

"Ah, that. Yes, I hear of it. A rather sudden turn of events."

"It's strange to hear that the Hand is dismissed so suddenly with no one saying why. It makes one curious. His tenure seemed to be fine."

I took a small sip of my ale. "The Hand serves at the convenience of His Grace." I paused. "If you truly want to know, I heard it's because he keeps pestering the king to install Aegon as the official heir. He does that often, but this time he annoyed the King enough to dismiss him."

Harry looked at me strangely. "And where did you hear this? Did Ser Steffon tell you?"

I snorted. "Obviously not. That man would lash me if I asked him to share gossip about the royal family. No, I overheard it from some of the guards."

Well, not just the guards. Rhaenyra had been unbearably smug during our lesson yesterday, claiming how the arrogant Hightower was put in his place. She didn't hold a high opinion about our former Lord Hand.

Truth be told, I had idly considered getting rid of him a few times before, though I didn't find the idea feasible or even useful. Men would still flock to Aegon, no matter whether Otto lived or not. What purpose would there be in killing him? Besides, what crime did he commit that made him worthy of death? He acted much like any lord in his place. Had Father succededed in marrying Laena and King Viserys, would we have schemed to put Laena's blood on the throne over Rhaenyra? Would Rhaenyra hate my family for it as well?

The answers to both questions were likely yes. Thrice-damned politics. Always making every problem more difficult.

"Do you know who will replace him as Hand?"

Harry's voice broke my thoughts. "No, but they said it's likely Lord Lyonel Strong, as he was high in the king's esteem. If not him, then perhaps Lord Beesbury."

"Lord Strong? I've sparred with that oversized son of his, but other than that, I don't know much about the Lord Strong himself. Neither strikes me as the clever sort."

I shook my head. "This is why you shouldn't judge anyone by their appearance alone. I've spoken with Lord Strong, and I thought he's an erudite and well-spoken man."

I finished the dregs of my drink in one large gulp. "Anymore of this, and we'll get too drunk to walk. Let's just go back to the Keep Harry."

Harry grunted and followed me after emptying his own mug.

"Uncle Daemon had named himself a king."

"Oh?" I asked half interestedly as I lifted my eyes from The Forging of the Iron Throne. "A king of what?" Rhaenyra didn't look angry or alarmed, so it was unlikely Daemon named himself the King of the Seven Kingdoms. Rogue though he might be called, he still had a modicum of honor to not usurp his brother.

"King of the Stepstones. Your father crowned him, in fact." Rhaenyra said.

Now my interest has roused. How bold, Father. Was this part of the plan he talked about in his letters? "My father did say that the war in the Stepstones is going well in his letters. He didn't tell me he was planning to crown Prince Daemon, however. In his latest word, he only claimed they're holding half of the islands. It should be too early for such a crowning."

Rhaenyra shrugged. "My uncle isn't the most patient man. Besides, it's just a matter of time now, surely. No one can match the power of the dragons."

"Mayhaps, but the Triarchy managed to adapt remarkably well. They split their ships into many small contingents to avoid Caraxes burning their entire fleet. They also kept an extensive line of communication, always keeping Caraxes under watch and only attacking when they're sure he's somewhere far away. The sheer level of organization required to realize such a plan is praiseworthy."

Rhaenyra was interested now. She cared about dragons most of all. "So there was a way to fight against a dragon?"

"A dragon? Yes. This tactic would be harder to implement against multiple dragons, however. The level of mobility and versatility given by multiple dragons were still unmatched." I wondered why Caraxes was the only dragon who fought in the war. Seasmoke, Meleys, and Vhagar. All of them could help turn the tide of the war as easily as flapping their wings. Perhaps not everyone agreed with Prince Daemon's plan?

"Father also said he suspected Dorne's involvement. He found a lot of their coinage scattered across the Stepstones, and many sellswords speaking with Dornish accents among the enemies." That would be trouble. If there were people who had extensive experience fighting dragons, they would be the Triarchy and Dorne.

Rhaenyra clicked her tongue. "Those sandblasted cur. They should just learn to stay in their desert and leave us to our own affairs."

"Unlikely. They're already surrounded by Targaryens in their north and west, and they fear having another dragon in their east. The moment Prince Daemon attacked the Stepstones, it became their affair too."

"I still think it's time for us to conquer them soon. King Aegon visioned a single kingdom ruling all the lands south of the Wall, and Dorne had proven themselves a thorn on our side many times before." She insisted.

"It's not that easy. War is always an uncertain affair and terribly expensive besides. There's also the problem of Dorne being a sparsely popoulated land. The benefit of such a conquest would be relatively small for the kingdoms as a whole." Though, really, the most obvious reasons why no one hadn't tried to conquer Dorne yet was that no king felt the need. King Jaehaerys was busy building the Seven Kingdoms into one, and King Viserys was a peaceful man. However, it was just a matter of time until the Iron Throne had a more martial king who thought it was time to finish the conquest, and we'd make the attempt. I doubted many would oppose such a conquest either. The Reach and Stormlands were longtime enemies of Dorne and would salivate at a chance of war. The rest? Well, they'd fought for glory and plunder, of course. The lords of Westeros were warriors, first and foremost.

"There's also the problem of risk. Dragons are powerful, but their riders remain humans. There are times when even dragon riders fell." Like my grandfather. Being a royal prince and dragon rider didn't save him from a Myrish bolt. "I don't think the risk is worth the reward."

Rhaenyra absorbed my words, clearly understanding my points but not quite giving up yet. It was no surprise. Dorne had been a sore point for the Targaryens for many years now. Did she fancy herself a second Visenya and dream of conquest of her own, or was she mostly driven by pride in her house and legacy? Both could be true.

"There's more to war than just reward or risk." She carefully said. "There's also duty and obligation. To protect the subjects of the throne and the right of the crown. No matter how difficult a task is, if something must be done, then it will be done. Because being a ruler means more than just doing what you want, but also what you must."

Rhaenyra looked thoughtful as she was saying that. For my part, I had a feeling she wasn't only talking about Dorne. So I just nodded my head and returned to my book.

"If you believe so."

The final month of the year was closing in. The Citadel had sent their white ravens across the realm, signaling the end of the three-year summer we enjoyed. It was not difficult to notice. The days had gone noticeably shorter and colder. One last harvest, and it would be another long winter—the second one in my life.

I saw Ser Steffon descending the stairs.

"Boy". Ser Steffon's gruff voice sounded louder than usual in the quiet morning. "Follow me, boy. You and Harry will accompany me on my duties today. Wear your best doublet."

I obeyed and followed Ser Steffon as he called for Harry as well. Soon, the three of us were outside the White Sword Tower. The air was crisp and cold, and I found my breath misting as we walked into Maegor's Keep.

Harry yawned. "It's not often for our presence to be required. What's happening?"

"A joyful occasion, that's what. The king will likely send out the heralds again to spread the good news." Ser Steffon said.

"What for?" I asked.

Ser Steffon glanced at us. "Well! I guess both of you will hear about it earlier than most. Consider yourself lucky. The queen is blessed with a child once again."

Author notes:

I was torn between having Corwyn squires to Ser Criston or Ser Harrold. Making him Criston's squire will give a certain sense of irony once everything is tumbling down. However after consulting my timeline I decided against the idea. Ser Harrold is also a great candidate as he was severely underutilized in canon, and he came prepackaged with a friend-shaped bundle that is Harrold Darke. I feel pretty bad for the MC not having anyone his age to interact with except Rhaenyra.

For people who ask if Corwyn ever contemplates murder, the answer is yes. However, it never went beyond idle thoughts because he's a normal guy who never actually arranges someone's murder in both of his lives and the people whose deaths might actually affect the succession crisis tend to be influential, well guarded, and a tad paranoid. If he gets caught, then he's going to be fucked, no ifs and buts.

Really, the more important part is the uncertainty. He doesn't know who will be most responsible for the succession crisis. He also can't be 100% sure if killing someone would actually fix everything. Hell, he can't even be sure there will absolutely be a war. As he is now he won't take the risk. It's easy to say when we have the power of hindsight, but there was a lot of uncertainty for someone who lacks one.

And since someone asked me this in the PM, I think it's worth clarifying. The year at the start of the chapter only denotes the time when the chapter started, and the chapter itself can span several months or even years. This chapter, for example, started near the beginning of the year 109 AC and ends in the last month of the year.

As always, reviews are always welcome!