Chapter 11
Link sighed with content as he blearily rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, feeling fully rested for once. The dreams of his mother had only grown worse as time went by. Each dream differed slightly, whether it was his mother appearing to him dying in her bed of blood or Zelda condemning him as well. Two things remained constant though, his mother's vitriol and more disturbingly, a three eyed crow.
Link had desperately tried anything to get rid of the dreams and the ghosts within them that haunted him. Nothing Pycelle tried worked, not even dreamless sleep. After one especially harrowing nightmare, Link had delved into the catacombs of the Red Keep, to the ancient room where he had discovered the old harp and tapestries of house Targaryen.
He scoured through the old tomes the room held, anything containing a possible relief to his dreams. His discoveries were a mixed bag. Some of the books described Valyrian rituals of blood sacrifice and fire, whilst others told the tale of a prince that would bring the dawn. That one time led Link to the conclusion that Targaryens were truly mad.
One particular book told Link a different story. Centuries of Targaryen's, he found, had what the books described as dragon dreams, dreams that told the future in some way. The most famous example being Daenys the Dreamer, who dreamt of the Doom of Valyria and saved her family from destruction.
Instead of trying to do a dubious ritual that would probably kill him, Link decided to do what, in Link's opinion, the most sane Targaryen, Aegon the Unlikely, did. Write the dreams down. This way he could analyse the horrors in his dreams and see if they have any connection to the future, or in Link's case, the past.
During his studies with the Grand Maester, Link had come to admire Aegon the Fortunate. In all of his lessons on the Targaryens and their inevitable downfall, he had come to realise that Aegon V was the Targaryen King who cared most for his people. Whilst Jaehaerys the Conciliator healed the wounds from his uncle's reign and ensured that the Seven Kingdoms would remain one realm, and Daeron the Young Dragon was a prodigy in strategy, it was the Unlikely that truly loved his people.
Gerion would tell him stories of how he was a good King and a greater man. His father Tywin disagreed of course. He remembered when he was small, smaller than he was now anyway, before the futile Greyjoy rebellion, of a conversation he had with his father.
"Aegon the Unlikely was a weak King who couldn't even control his own children. He let his naive ideals almost destroy this kingdom." Tywin had said, his eyes pale chips of jade, unyielding and cruel.
"He was a good man and a good King. Westeros would be better with men like him in it." Link had said in response, waving a chubby hand in frustration. Tywin had only frowned deeper in distaste before turning away to peer deeper into the gaudy fireplace.
"I will not suffer your presence boy, not when you continue to blithely ignore me. Leave me." Tywin near whispered. Link had frozen in shock, it was his sixth name day and he had been excited to spend time with his father, who was always so cold and distant.
"I said leave. I will not suffer your insolence now, not on the day that you killed your mother." His father had said, his voice colder than the fiercest Northern winds.
That was the day he realised that his father would never truly be a father to him, that only Gerion would tell him of the adventures of Ser Duncan the Tall and Aegon the Unlikely, that only his Aunt Genna would dote on him when he was sick.
Link would visit the people of Flea Bottom quite frequently, to try and connect to them as Aegon the Unlikely did. Most of the time, he would be disguised as a fellow member of the smallfolk, dressed in clothes that he had bought off of a stable boy for a golden dragon. When he had handed the coin over, the stable boy's eyes had grown as wide as dinner plates. Those times he would leave the Red Keep during the hour of the wolf and explore with Val at his side.
With her, he would eat greasy bowls of brown, no matter how foul they were and how much they made him gag, and play with other orphans from the orphanage. She introduced him to her Septa, Jeyne, who was more of a big sister to her than septa. then told him stories of Val as a babe, and how she ran the orphanage. Val, like most of the other children in the orphanage, was found abandoned by Jeyne on the side of the street. I'm lucky, I could have been born to a whore and abandoned on the street to die, like Val. How would I have been able to be like Aegon then? Link thought as he stared at the rotting walls of the orphanage as Val chatted away about some adventure they would have later.
As Septa Jeyne called Val and the other, smaller children for their supper, Link stared at the rotting wooden walls of the small orphanage. Link felt a wave of guilt hit him, Tywin Lannister may be a terrible father and Cersei a terrible sister, but at least he had family who cared, like Tyrion, Jaime, Gerion, Gennna and the rest. He lived in luxury whilst the people of Flea Bottom lived in poverty. It wasn't fair, but Link had quickly learned that Westeros was an unfair place.
Soon he found himself alone outside, with only Septa Jeyne standing in the entrance peering at him with her Hazel eyes. Jeyne was a short plump woman, with greying brown hair and a long hooked nose.
Jeyne must have seen him staring as she blushed. "I know it doesn't compare to the Red Keep milord Massey, but our funds have run thin ever since the silver prince died." Jeyne said, before blushing a deeper red after mentioning the silver Prince. Rhaegar Targaryen. Link realised, giver of alms and raper, it seems he took atleast one thing from his grandfather.
After his encounter with Jeyne the Septa, Link had given her his monthly allowance, a bag of gold dragons, silver stags and coppers, a fortune that most members of the smallfolk wouldn't make in twenty years. Once he handed the bag to her, the woman cried out and hugged him, fat crocodile tears running down his face all the while. Link left Flea Bottom that night with a smile on his face tinged with melancholy, feeling like he was back in Hyrule again, helping ordinary people with Navi and Epona by his side.
Other times Link would go out with a retinue of red cloaks and give out coppers to the people of King's Landing; the mothers with their new babes, orphans who, unlike Val, had no septon or septa to care for them. Every time he left the Red Keep and ventured into the city below, Link learned something new. Whether it was about the lives of the smallfolk themselves or about their opinions on the arbitrary ways of the nobles that called King's Landing their home.
It was in them moments that Link most keenly felt the disgust he held for the nobles of this world, for men like his father, Tywin Lannister, who would never stop grasping for more power, and himself for being able to live in luxury as he watched the swollen stomachs and the bulging eyes of the half starved smallfolk.
Link knew that eventually Cersei or his father would find out about his escapades to Flea Bottom with Val, he had heard stories about how extensive the Spider's spy network was throughout Westeros. Something about Lord Varys felt off to Link, whenever he would see him in court, the King's Master of whispers would titter and flatter him like he does to every Lord but every once in a while Varys would flash him a knowing look or a secretive smile. Link knew that it was only a matter of time before his secrets were revealed.
Throughout his time as King Robert's squire, he had encountered all of his small council. The old honourable Lord Arryn, who was always kind to him whilst he polished Robert's unused armour when the old falcon met with the King. Lord Stannis however, wasn't kind, in fact he was an unforgiving, hard man and gave off a constant air of disapproval with his stormy Baratheon glare and the grinding of his teeth. Nevertheless, Link respected the Lord of Dragonstone for his honour and strong sense of justice. Link had only ever attended one small council session and from it he witnessed first hand Stannis Baratheon's unyielding stubbornness and uncompromising righteousness.
Link's peaceful pondering lasted all of five minutes before a heavy knock echoed throughout his chambers and clarity hit him like a battering ram. Oh Nayru I'm late again. Link thought in despair, as he hopped out of his bed and hurried to dress.
"The first time I'm going to see Tyrion in over a year and I'm late." Link bemoaned to himself. Since Link had started serving the King as cupbearer and now squire, he had missed his older brother Tyrion. It was with Tyrion that Link would tell his nightmares, of how they always contained a never ending cycle of death and regret. Tyrion had always tried to understand Link's pain, just like Gerion. Tyrion, like Link, had trouble sleeping. Link could always recall Tyrion being awake as dawn broke, reading from one dusty tome or another.
As Link walked out of the grand oak door of his chambers, Lann shook his head with an exasperated smile. "Finally awake I see, I thought I might have had to tip a flagon of water over you to awaken you from your slumber milord." Lann said, his pale green eyes shining with amusement.
Link huffed and walked on through the halls of Maegor's, Lann his ever present shadow, wringing his hands as he went. This must be the only time I've ever been excited for a session of court. Link thought as he and Lann walked over the dry moat and into the Red Keep proper. The halls were as busy as they always were, with servants rushing from one place to another and a wafting aroma of freshly baked bread coming from the kitchens which made his stomach growl loudly.
The oak and bronze doors of the Great hall were open with swarms of nobles scheming and flattering each other, all cast under the shadow of the hulking beast of blades, the Iron Throne. King Robert sat the throne with his hand and queen to the side of it, the King was holding petitions from nobles and smallfolk alike, listening and dispensing justice as he saw fit in turn. Din dammit I missed him. Link thought as he looked around the Great Hall, hoping to spot his brother, to no avail. It seemed that Tyrion had gone straight to his chambers after his long journey.
"It seems that nothing has changed. You're still as much a heavy sleeper as you always were, sweet brother." A dry humorous voice said from behind him. Link snapped his head around and there, to his joy, Tyrion stood. He looked the same as he did all those moons ago, with his mismatched eyes, jutting forehead and pale blonde and black hair.
"Tyrion!" Link cried out with a laugh as he knelt to hug his older brother. It had been so long since he had seen his brother, nearly as long as it had been since he had seen his uncle Gerion.
"It has been too long brother, the Rock has been quite empty without you." Tyrion said with a fond smirk. "Come Link, walk with me through the gardens. It has been so long since I have witnessed their beauty."
"How was your journey?" Link asked, he remembered the journey through the Westerlands to King's Landing. Of the rolling plains and high hills, the rushing rivers and tall trees. His home was a beautiful land, Link would freely admit, even if it would never beat Kokiri Forest. Even then, as he walked through the hallways of the Red Keep he could still hear the rustle of trees and the sound of Saria's ocarina playing. Link could still picture her in his mind, ever so lovely and kind to him no matter what he had done. He had come to King's Landing with a hope that Cersei would care for him like Saria had, like a true sister. Instead, she had turned that hope to ash in his mouth.
"It wasn't so bad, if terribly sore and dreadfully boring without any whores to entertain me. All the whores of Lannisport cried my name when I left them, for who would pay them when I am gone?" Tyrion said with faux sadness. Link only shook his head and laughed in response. They stood alone in the gardens as far as he could tell, save for the bees buzzing around a patch of flowers that Tyrion was paying particular attention to.
"Our mother loved these flowers," Tyrion said with true sadness this time, brows furrowed in concentration as he plucked the blue flower from the soil. "She would spend weeks growing and nurturing them, they're called winter roses. She would have them imported from the North just to grow them in the Rock's Godswood. They're long wilted now though." Tyrion's admission made Link flush with guilt and stomach sink.
"Tyrion, may I ask you a question, about mother I mean?" Link asked with trepidation, Tyrion would tell him the truth, he would never lie to him. Tyrion looked up from the blue petals of the winter rose to him, his mismatched green and black eyes searching for an answer to some great mystery on his face.
Tyrion heaved a great tired sigh and said, "I will, just not now, I fear I'm not nearly drunk enough for it. There is to be a feast tonight, meet me on the balcony of my solar and I will tell you what you wish to know. Now, enough of this dour talk sweet brother, tell me of your squiring to the King!"
Link and Tyrion talked for hours in the gardens, until it was time for the brothers to get ready for the feast that was to be held in celebration of Tyrion's arrival. The maids scrubbed Link until he was a bright pink and smelling faintly of winter roses. He dressed in brown breeches and a red silk tunic embroidered with the golden roaring lion of house Lannister over his right breast.
Link dismissed Lann from guarding him during the feast, allowing him to enjoy the night, reasoning that if he were not safe when he was in the presence of the Kingsguard he would never be safe.
Smoke wafted through the Great Hall from the many great fireplaces and candles positioned throughout the hall. He sat between Tyrion and Lord Petyr Baelish, the master of coin on the high table. King Robert's laugh was as booming as it ever was, with wine sloshing everywhere from his cup. Link pitied whoever was serving the King his wine that night, Robert had given him the day off to spend with his brother. The King was a generous, charismatic man even when he was deep in his cups.
Tyrion wasn't much better, he drank cup after cup of arbour gold like a man who was dying of thirst. He wasn't lying when he told Link that he would be drunk for their meeting.
"It seems that in all of your time in King's Landing, I haven't had the pleasure of holding a conversation with you young Link." Lord Petyr Baelish said, his minty breath washing over Link's face as he turned to meet the man.
"I'm sure you are very busy as master of coin Lord Petyr." Link said with deference, slayer of monsters he may be but a politician was something he would never excel as.
"I have heard many tales about you, my Lord. From being a prodigy with the blade to rival your brother, Ser Jaime. Though one rumour that I have wondered the answer to is, if you are able to play the high harp?" The man asked with a sly smirk that did not quite reach his eyes. Peter Baelish was a small man with grey green eyes that had a quality akin to the film of grease that covered the bowls of brown that Val loved so much.
"I would say I'm able to play a song or two on the harp, yes Lord Petyr." Link said as he squirmed under the man's slimy gaze. He felt as if he were being made to dance to the Vale Lord's words, like a puppet from one the shows that he watched with Val occasionally. He was drowning in this game of words and false smiles. This man is dangerous.
Petyr Baelish laughed, "I have heard otherwise, your septa tells me that you play it as if you were born to hold it in your hands. I think a demonstration is in order to prove your teacher right." The small man then left his chair and made his way to the King's dias, where he bent over to whisper in Robert's ear. The drunk King had a varied reaction to the Vale Lord's words, first his stormy eyes darkened with malice and his face flushed bright red with anger, before mellowing into a more curious if still grumpy expression.
Petyr Baelish beckoned him from his seat, to the middle of the hall where a single stool sat, with the old harp he had found resting on top of it. "My Lords and Ladies, your grace. I present to you all a new bard, Lord Link Lannister!" There was a smattering of applause and a chorus of laughs in response to Baelish's words, his sister being one of them with a proud grin on her face. This is her scheme. She means to shame and embarrass me. I shall prove her wrong.
"My Lords and Ladies, I mean to play to you tonight a song never before heard in the Seven Kingdoms! I present to you; the Song of Time!" He said with a confidence he did not truly feel. If Cersei meant to shame him she would have to try harder than this. A hush fell over the hall as he strummed the harp in his lap, notes rising and falling to create the haunting echoes of a time long past, of lost friends and enemies, of a land that he would never see again.
Once he had strummed the last note on the old harp, the hall broke out in applause, with many a noble Lady weeping. Strangely, Cersei only looked more pleased. It was only when he turned to the King that he saw why. Robert had a peculiar look in his eye and was as white as a sheet, like he had just seen a ghost. Rhaegar Targaryen played the harp. I followed Cersei's scheme like a damned fool.
The King stood from his chair and the hall fell into silence once more. Link steeled his nerves, waiting for the humiliation to come. But, instead, Robert Baratheon only raised his hands and clapped a slow clap, before leaving the hall out of the side exit, Ser Barristan and Jaime following behind him.
It was only after Robert left that Link noticed Tyrion had left. I guess that's my queue to leave.
When he entered Tyrion's temporary chambers, he saw Tyrion lounging on a chair on the balcony. The breeze hit his face as he stepped out onto the balcony. It was a cool night and the sea breeze helped mask the terrible stench of King's Landing. "Take a seat brother," Tyrion slurred. Link shivered, and not because of the cold. Link did as bid and sat in the plush chair across from his elder brother. "So sweet brother, what would you like to know?" Tyrion asked. A torch was lit behind Tyrion, casting his face in darkness. His brother's dark eyes glinted as the moon light shone on them, giving him a sinister appearance.
Never one to beat around the bush, Link barrelled in head first. "Would our mother have loved me?" Link asked with a tremor in his voice, for one of the first times in a long time he was afraid.
Tyrion snorted and then proceeded to laugh. He laughed a long and terrible laugh and it only unsettled him more. He is drunk. Drink changes every man and not for the better. But no one is perfect, I am in no position to judge Tyrion, not when my failure caused the death of a kingdom.
"Of course she would have loved you Link, why wouldn't she?" Tyrion said, his smirk sharp and dangerous. Even though Tyrion had said the same as Jaime had, he couldn't get his heart to stop racing. Tyrion wasn't telling him everything. Link shivered once more. "After all, you are the perfect son. Brilliant with the blade, kind and handsome. Seven hells, you play the harp better than any bard I have ever heard!" Tyrion exclaimed. There was a queer look in his eye as he said it, a look that he had only seen in one other man, their father.
"No, our mother would have adored you, Link, like she did Jaime and Cersei. The only way our mother would have hated you, is if you looked like me." Tyrion said with a self deprecating laugh. Link flinched back in shock and gripped the lion shaped armrests of the chair in alarm. Tyrion chuckled darkly. "Don't look so alarmed sweet brother, wasn't it obvious that our father wouldn't love any ordinary woman. No matter what the singers say, Joanna Lannister wasn't the Mother in human form, she was a monster. Just like our father." His brother said, his words cutting Link deeper than any blade could.
"But uncle Gerion said-"
"People lie brother and Gerion is dead, Link. Our uncle should have never gone to Old Valyria." Tyrion interrupted with a cold finality. Gerion, dead. That was impossible. Link felt as if he was teetering on the edge of a cliff, one wrong move and he would fall into an abyss of rage and grief. How dare he say such things! Link's anger burned hotter than wildfire, his hands were clenched so hard around the lion armrests that the fine polished wood snapped. Link's reaction seemed to sober Tyrion some from his morose drunkenness.
"I'm sorry Link, but it's true. Our father sent out men to try and find Gerion but they returned empty handed. He is gone, but his words are not. He comforted me as he did you with his stories and games, but he lied. As much as our sister Cersei likes to spout that she is our father with teats, it was our mother that was truly our father's equal. I know that mother would have done the same to Tysha as our father did." Tyrion said as he climbed out of his chair and turned to leave, not before hugging Link.
"Who is Tysha?" Link asked, his voice as hollow as his heart.
"A whore." Tyrion said harshly before leaving Link to his thoughts. Link sat in the broken chair for what seemed like hours and cried. Cried for the loss of his uncle and for the suffering of his beloved brother. Cried for the lies of the people he loved and cried for a whore.
I will find you uncle! I'll do it if it's the last thing I do.
End of Part I
Hello everyone! It's been a while I know, but I have been extremely busy. Before the summer, I was cast as a lead role in a play and I've been rehearsing and practising that over the past few months but now it's over, I enjoyed it but I can now get back to writing again.
I have rewritten this chapter quite a few times, it's an important chapter that allows Link to grow as a person and realise that Westeros is not like Hyrule. And Part 1 is over, finally. I've always imagined part 1 as just a big prologue to the story so good thing it's over, now we can get on to the exciting stuff.
Please review and tell me if you enjoyed it, if you didn't why. I'm always open for constructive criticism that helps me grow as a writer! Thanks for reading!