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Mid to Late 111 AC – Runestone
Rhea Royce POV
A frustrated juvenile cry rang around the training yard, a sound seemed to fuel tired arms and legs as the dark-haired boy leapt towards the man twice his size, only for the man to sidestep away before reaching out and grabbing the boy's arm before sweeping his legs from underneath him, the wooden sword clattering against the ground.
The man, the master-at-arms, pulled the boy up and spoke with the boy but from where she was standing, she could not hear, not that she needed to.
The master-at-arms pulled up her boy back to his feet and turned his gaze towards her, looking for direction. She met her son's eyes, eyes that sat in a tired and frustrated face and she simply loudly said "Again!" the frustrated look in her son's face breaking into a look of dismay before it turned into tired resignation.
Still, to give him credit, he neither complained or gave up, instead, he walked towards his fallen wooden sword, his acceptance of his situation apparent.
"You're pushing him too far." the words came from an aged and weathered voice, one that had not voiced out a single utterance since they'd arrived at the training yards and she glanced to her right, to the direction of the voice.
Seated on an old chair, seated a white-grey haired man. His gaunt and blocky face was heavily wrinkled and his blotchy skin dotted with liver spots. His hands, wide and blessed with long-fingered fingers, were long passed the days they could still wield a sword and shield. An old man that was long passed his glory days.
But, despite all of that, there was still a strong echo present of the fierce Yorbert Royce this man used to be in his gaze, in the way her father caught her attention.
"He needs pushing." Rhea returned calmly before she looked back at that training yard and she saw her son, despite his sluggish movement, was trying with all his remaining strength to strike at the master-at-arms. "Life will not be easy for him."
Her expression tightened slightly as her brows pulled together slightly as she stared at her ten namedays old son, a glimmer of disgust shown in the downward curl of her lips. It would not be long before Baelon was pulled into the Targaryen mess.
"Yes." her father said before she heard the cane's butt hit the ground, the chair creaking. Slowly but surely, her father walked towards her until he stood by her.
Her father sighed slightly, likely in part due to tiredness of that short walk and likely in part because of her stubbornness on this point.
"He does need pushing but the way you're doing it…Rhea." She turned to him and saw him look at her with a heavy frown adorned on his face.
"I know what you'll say. You've said it plenty of times already, father." Rhea spoke up before her father could say what was on his mind. Her father smiled faintly, his head turning towards the training yard, his smile slacking slightly.
"And I will keep saying it until you listen, Rhea. I owe it to you both at the least. You can't keep treating him this harshly and undeservedly and I'm not just talking about the training" her father said to her and Rhea's lips thinned to a thin line.
"Mothering him will not do him any good." Rhea said somewhat harshly as she looked away from her father even if she could feel that irritating pit in her stomach growing.
"It wasn't your fault." Her father said quietly. "The attac-"
"Father, enough." Rhae's voice was sharp and she clenched her teeth slightly before she calmed herself as she watched her son train with the master-at-arms.
"Even the merest reminder sets you off, Rhea." Her father said with a disapproving note in his voice and though she was not seeing his face, she could tell he was shaking his head at her.
"How could it not?" she couldn't help but say as she turned her head to her father, haunting memories of seeing her boy falling from his pony, arrows stuck to his shoulder and his leg, flashing in her mind.
She breathed in slightly. "I almost lost him in the attack, father." Rhea said with a note of vulnerability in her voice and she hated it even if her father was the only one she could ever allow to see or hear it. "All because I was ignoring the dangers that comes with who his father is." Who his family is…who her son is chained too.
Even now, they were not sure who orchestrated the bandits to attack them.
The six bandits had ambushed them in the pass that led to the hawking site she'd been taking Baelon for several years. She herself had been struck with an arrow in the ambush and once more during her escape with Baelon, and, had it not been for her and her son's sworn shields sacrificing themselves for her and her son…
It could have been the Triarchy or it could be the Hightowers wishing to rid themselves of the threat her son posed to Alicent's son or it could be the dozen other enemies Daemon has accumulated. It could even be her grasping cousins unlikely as it was and even that thought, that she could even think that one of her House could stoop so low and not think it mad and insulting…
The only measure of comfort was that whomever had done it was no expert in orchestrating assassinations and it was a small measure of comfort, she thought with great bitterness as she remembered the sight of her boy lying in his bed and the fear she held that he may die of poison or infection.
She hated it all. The fear. The guilt. The constant worry…
How she wished her boy could live out his life in their lands…
"Aye, that is true." Her father said before he added, a note of remorse in his voice "And I, your Lord father, was blind as well. I am far more to blame than you are, Rhea. I should have had the wisdom to see you prepared the moment Baelon was entangled with the royal family, more than he already was simply by being born…in the circumstances that he was born by." Her father said in a heavy sigh.
Rhae turned to her father and she saw the tired look on his face and she reached out to his hand which was tight on the banister, placing it on top of his hand, silently reminding him that all was already forgiven.
Her father let off a satisfied noise from his throat as he glanced for a moment at her hand before looking at the training yard.
"It won't be long before he leaves for Kings Landing or Dragonstone, Rhea. Do not let him forget that you are his mother." Her father said as he tapped the top of her hand with his other hand before he pulled his hand underneath hers and added "Nor let him forget that he is the future of House Royce above all else."
"It would be all too easy for him to grow into the impression he cannot seek succour from you and House Royce when he surely has need of it. Mayhaps he would not even consider it." Her father said before turned away, slowly walking back into the bowels of their keep, the sound of the cane tapping still audible even after she lost sight of him and her cold expression broke, the words of warning of her father ringing in her mind.
'Am I truly going too far?' she wondered as she turned back towards the training yard, her expression softening in worry, and her mind began to wonder away, the pit in her stomach growing to consume her.
She needed Baelon to be prepared, to be strong, to never be so vulnerable that his life could be extinguished before he'd even lived, but…in the process…
Was she pushing him away as much as she was pushing him to be prepared, to be strong?
Her eyes fell upon her son and the pit in her stomach seized her as she watched hers on fight still with ferocity despite tired legs, despite tired arms.
Her son was much like her…and as much as she did not wish to admit it, her son had Daemon within him. She might despise his father, but she would not deny that there was one trait that she shared with the fool of a man, and that they did not let offense unanswered.
Her son was much the same. Her father's warning of Baelon turning away from her…from their House because of her actions…
She sighed quietly as she watched Baelon silently, the pearls of worry deepening. She may be seen by many as heartless and cold, more a man than a woman, but she was neither heartless or cold when it came to Baelon and the thought that she was pushing her son away from her with her actions was disquieting her.
Her expression shifted to one of a tired hidden smile. 'I can't go on like this…father is right.' She thought to herself and she let off a heavy sigh.
Baelon was the most important part of her life now, a part of her, and she could not allow the Targaryens and their dangers destroy her relationship with her son.
To think so much of her life could change by one simple letter...
When she was told by her father that King Jaehaerys and Prince Baelon had ordered Daemon to get her with child on the pains of disinheritance and exile, she'd been filled with gleeful mirth…and then great dread when her father told her she must acquiesce…for the sake of their House.
For sake of her father…and her mother.
By that time, they'd already been married for three years and for nearly all of that time, the presence, rare as it had been, of Daemon had been nothing but trouble and misery.
Their marriage had been unconsummated on the eve of their wedding, and even during his time in Runestone, neither of them had been interested in laying with the other.
She'd already had the measure of him within days before their wedding, and it was a measure that left her in contempt of the boy who was several years her younger.
A hot-headed fool who believed himself to be a gift to all that graced their eyes on him, a man who thought fate had done him wrong by making him a second son, and who thought her to be far beneath him.
She could admit to herself, and only to herself, that she'd felt wounded and deeply slighted by this disdain of Daemon, a boy that possessed naught but a title of Prince and would inherit nothing yet thought himself better than the heir of Runestone, one of the oldest Houses of Westeros, finding her unworthy of him.
All of her life, she'd faced challenge from the men around her, the moment her father declared he would not remarry and sire a son, marking her as the future ruler of Runestone, and for her to see that her own husband-to-be disdained her so, considered her to be lesser to him…
Their wedding night had been akin to that of a battlefield, the moment the doors closed, neither of them yielding to the other, and she was certain that only the fear of what his family would do to him had stopped Daemon from attacking her after she'd returned his words of slight with sharper and deeper cuts to his pride.
Instead, he'd slipped out of their chambers within the hour and over the next three years, his visits to Runestone were as bitter as the night of their wedding, though his words of slights expanded to slight not only her and her House, but also the Vale itself, marking Daemon as a man who managed to insult the entirety of the Kingdom of the Vale.
Yet all of that changed when he returned to Runestone in 100 AC, wroth and hateful, a letter from the old King Jaehaerys for the eyes of her father in his hands.
She remembered laughing at the threat Jaehaerys and Baelon had wrought on Daemon, the threat of disinheritance and exile that was as good as carried out, yet her laughter had died out when she'd seen her father's grim expression.
She'd loved her father – and she still did – but on that day, she felt a strong hatred for her father when he all but told her that she must do her duty for their House…for him and for their mother, making her feel as little more than a whore.
No matter what she told him, of how unworthy Daemon was of her, of how much he has insulted her and their House, all of it, nothing swayed her father from pleading with her to do her duty…to do what she'd swore on her wedding ceremony…for the sake of him and her mother, who her father had loved so much that he refused to dishonour her memory by remarrying.
She shook her head, forcing her mind away from those days, and set her eyes back on her son who continued to spar with Ser Rodrik, the master-at-arms, her expression softening further even as the corners of her eyes deepened with worry.
One thing she could admit openly, despite how Baelon came about, was that she did not regret having her son.
"Enough." She said loudly but calmly as she began to walk towards the stairs that led to the training yard, stilling both her brave and dutiful son and Ser Rodrik.
She arrived at the training yard and she glanced at the knight as she said "You may leave, Ser." The master-at-arms bowed to her before he turned to her son.
"You continue to improve, my Lord. If you continue, you will surely become the youngest knight that graced these halls." Ser Rodrik said with praise to her son.
Her son, his face red with tiredness, his body tense and clearly aching, only nodded sharply, far too sharply for a boy his age, and after that Ser Rodrik left, leaving her and her son behind in the training yard.
Looking at her son, the looks of Daemon and his father Prince Baelon in his boyish face were undeniable. The ears, the eyes, the mouth and lips…Only his nose and his thick curly dark hair marked out his Royce heritage on his face.
Baelon looked at her with wary eyes, his body somehow more tense as they were left on their lonesome, something that had not happened since his recovery…
"You did well." She said, breaking the lull of silence that had passed between them. Her son's light violet eyes widened in surprise and she suppressed a grim smile as she realised that she'd not praised or said a kind word to her son for a very long time.
She felt a deep well of shame built within her.
They'd used to be so close and there had been nary a day where they were not joined at the hip.
The couplings with Daemon and the pregnancy were ordeals that had made her resentful of the child growing in her belly yet much of that resentment had fled when the maester had placed the child, her child with his large dark blue eyes and dark tufts on his head, in her arms.
There was not a day that she'd not spent with her son, and Daemon's absence had only made them closer with one another, so much so that Baelon had grown to love what she loved, her horses, her hawks…
"Thank you…mother." Baelon said and she could pick up on measures of discomfort in his voice and she only smiled a little wanly at him as she got closer to him and caressed his cheek, an act that surprised but made her son smile more.
She wrinkled her nose in disgust before she smiled a little teasingly "You smell worse than Rust on his worst of days."
Her son snorted out a laugh before he winced slightly and she wrapped her arm around his shoulders. He looked up at her with his emotive violet eyes, flashing her a boyish smile she'd not seen in many a day, one she returned, and she knew that all was not lost.
She gently led him back towards the bowels of their keep "I'd have to roll in the pigsty to smell even half as bad as Rust!" Rust was the bronze-coloured horse she'd broken in in her youth, and he'd always had a strange smell about him that only worsened with age.
She smiled at him as she spoke "Speaking of Rust…it's been some time since we've ridden through the Valley. Come in the morn, we could ride out?" she asked her son and he looked at her with wide surprised eyes that quickly narrowed with wariness and suspicion, the moment of levity breaking.
"Really?" He asked almost accusingly. Though her son was heavily injured by the attack, nearly losing his own life, he'd not been as nearly as affected as she'd been.
She felt somewhat ashamed to say that it contributed to her anger and her treatment of him, that her son had treated what happened as if it was nothing major.
"Really." She said after a few moments. "You've done everything I have asked of you" she smiled a little as she added "without much complaint."
She lost her smile as she continued somewhat cautiously. "Mayhaps in the coming weeks we could also go hawking too with a couple of Silvertips youngling's."
This caused her son to lose his accusatory eyes and wary expression as his expression bloomed with happiness. "I…I would like that mother."
Those words settled that pit in her stomach as easily as water dosing wildfire.
Weeks Later…
The past few weeks had done much to move Rhea past her guilt and fears as she spent time with her son, and she'd noticed that she had not been the only one either. Her father and the rest of the keep were less tense with the reacquaintance between herself and her son, like it had been before the attack.
However, neither she nor her father had allowed the keep to be at rest – more guardsmen were hired and trained in the wake of the attack – but there was a general ease that had been missing for more than a year.
The news of Daemon's return to Westeros did little to dispel that sense of ease. After all, her wastrel of a husband did not fly to Runestone from his petty war in the Stepstones once, even in the moons since the attack on her son had become known to the rest of Westeros.
It did not surprise her. She knew very well that Baelon was not the pristine son he desired and no amount of similarities took away from the dark curly locks that rested on Baelon's head that reminded Daemon of how…un-Valyrian her son was.
And by whom he begot Baelon on.
It was clear that his care for Baelon did not extend anywhere close to that of a father – Baelon had only seen Daemon a handful of times before the war in the Stepstones – and she knew that his only interest in Baelon was that his son was to marry Princess Rhaenyra once her son came to age.
So when the roars of a dragon could be heard within every hall of Runestone, she was surprised – and concerned – that Daemon deigned to visit.
When she arrived at the gates of the Keep, she saw Baelon was already there with his swornshields at his back, with Daemon walking towards her son with that foul creature Caraxes behind him.
Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she walked with a quick pace in her steps, her lips turning downward in a barely concealed sneer as Daemon lay his hand on Baelon's shoulder, and when Daemon looked away from Baelon and towards her, a slow smirk grew on his face which made her stop concealing her sneer.
"Lady wife." Daemon said in greeting, breaking from his conversation with Baelon, his smirk having grown when he saw how much he'd affected her and when Baelon turned around, she quickly hid her despise of his father.
Baelon, though aware that his father was far more absent than a father should be, was not aware of the…animosity between her and Daemon nor was he, truly, aware that his father cared little for him.
Something she was presently regretting with the way Baelon seemed to enjoy being in Daemon's presence. "Daemon." She returned, far more cordial than he deserved. "We did not expect you would be coming."
"Why would you not expect that I am coming home, dear Lady wife?" Daemon asked with an infuriating smirk before he looked towards Baelon and patted his cheek "After all, my son and heir is here." Daemon's smirk lost its strength as he looked over Baelon with an intense look that Rhae did not like at all.
"Perhaps we did not expect you because you'd been back in Westeros for over a week, and we received not a single word about when you'd return home." Rhea returned before she smiled a little thinly.
A home he'd once called 'a Keep fit only for sheep-fuckers'.
"My raven must have gotten lost." Daemon said as he glanced at Rhae with an amused glint in his eyes and Rhae narrowed her eyes at his blatant lie.
She so wanted to throw back the fact that he never returned or inquired about Baelon after the attack but she managed to refrain herself if only for the sake of her son.
Daemon continued "I always intended to return after I finished my business with my brother." Rhae wanted to scoff. 'Business'…
Braavos and the Velaryons had withdrawn their support with their withdrawal came the loss of both wealth and men, leaving Daemon only with his sellsword army that was a shadow of what it once was.
And had Viserys not supported Daemon with coin from the Iron Throne, it was very likely he'd had only hundreds instead of the few thousands that he'd had under his command, therefore all but ensuring he lost the 'war'.
Somehow, Daemon had achieved the unexpected, and managed to turn around his petty war in the Stepstones that almost resembled success.
From what she'd heard, Daemon gotten to corral the Triarchy ships around the bays of one of the islands in the Stepstones through deceit and swept through them with Caraxes, killing a large portion of their gathered strength, including the captain-general Ryndoon who led the fleet, and then proceeded to harry the Tyroshi shipping lanes with Caraxes, burning ship after ship, bringing slow ruin to the Tyroshi.
Her father suspected the attacking of merchant ships was part of a tactic, Daemon's intention of spreading the fear of Caraxes sweeping down on Tyrosh and the other cities. The tactic had worked and brought the Triarchy to the table.
Daemon must have reached an agreement of sorts with the Triarchy after which he'd proclaimed himself 'King of the Stepstones' though in reality, she considered that his hold over the Stepstones was in name only.
He was vain enough to accept such a useless title.
"Will you stay long?" Baelon asked and Rhae could hear the cautious longing in her son's voice.
"Of course." Daemon said as he turned his attentions to her son, a grin flashing on his face as he grabbed hold of both of Baelon's shoulders. "I missed you very much, my son, and we have much to catch up on."
For a brief moment, she considered that dying by dragon's fire would be worth it if only to bring her satisfaction that she brought an end to Daemon.
Hours later…
Daemon and Baelon spent much of the day in the training yard, where she watched and silently listened from the balcony, with Daemon teaching Baelon among the moments of where he regaled her son stories of battle and war.
Baelon seemed to take it all in with much desire, the tales, the lessons, Daemon's presence, and as much as Rhae hated Daemon's presence in her home, she could not begrudge her son his father's presence.
Strangely, she could see none of Daemon's typical demeanour throughout the day, instead, it almost seemed as if he was enjoying Baelon's presence.
The sight only made her contempt for Daemon grow.
The audacity to act in such a way, as if he cared for Baelon, when he did not care enough to even once inquire about Baelon's health after the attack…it was shameless and she was sure that he knew of the lies they'd spread.
"Baelon need not know" her father had said to her in the weeks after the attack "He does not need to know that his father cares little for him. It is something he must learn for himself in due time but our enemies must never believe so."
She'd not agreed with that sentiment but she kept her tongue and kept up the lies they told Baelon when he'd asked about his father…lies that they had quietly spread across the Vale for her son's sake.
It was clear enough that Baelon was in danger because of Daemon so his father hoped that by spreading lies that Daemon had promised vengeance against those who attacked his son would prove enough deterrence for them not to try.
Thus far, it seemed to have worked.
Unfortunately, it also meant that Baelon believed that his father cared for him…
Evening came and they dined together, Baelon and Daemon conversing with each other with seemingly mutual interest and her father interjected here and there.
After they ate and shared ale and wine, her father got himself and Baelon excused for the night, leaving behind Rhae – she'd gotten a look of warning from her father – and Daemon who smirked at her as soon as the doors to the dining hall closed and was empty of any other than the pair of them.
"It's time for you to fuck off back to Kings Landing." Rhae said with venom in her tone before she added "Or to those rocks you call a Kingdom. I don't care. You will leave."
She was rewarded with Daemon leaning back in his chair, his feet rising and placed on top of the dining table, his smirk widening as he met her blistering gaze.
"I have no intention of leaving any time soon, my dear lady wife." Daemon said with an amused note in his voice though the way his eyes were hard made it clear he meant it. "After all, the war is over and it is time for me to be home."
"Home?" she laughed contemptuously. "You called my ancestral home 'A keep fit only for sheep-fuckers full of hairy horse-like shrews for women'."
Daemon's smirk tilted on its side as he spoke next "It was said with love and in the throes of passion, my dear lady wife." She clenched her hands at the insulting way he was saying 'lady wife'.
She knew he wanted her react to his mocking and she wouldn't give in. She scoffed. "It was said with as much love and passion as a Blackwood would say anything about a Bracken." She breathed through her nose as she stared at Daemon. "What do you want, Daemon, in return of your departure? Gold? I can give you some if you have need of it."
This caused the smirk to fall off of his face. "I'm no whore for you to pay off, wife." He said with a dangerous edge to his voice.
She laughed "Oh?" she said with a mocking smile.
"You would call receiving gold for service akin to paying a whore? Had or had not all of Braavos, Lord Corlys, even your brother paid you off like a whore? Are you not, then, one of the most used whores in the Realm?"
Her mocking smile deepened at the way his nostrils widened and his feet rose off of the dining table and she see his hand twitching.
"Careful with your disrespect, you foul-mannered churl of a woman." Daemon seethed lowly as he leaned forward, his expression twisted in an angry scowl.
"I may well forget that you are Baelon's mother."
"I, foul-mannered?" Rhae scoffed before she sneered out "Please, if there one that deserves to be foul-mannered, it is you, Daemon. You are foul-mannered as you are utterly shameless." This time, his hand gripped the hilt of his sword.
"Shameless?" Daemon's eyes flashed angrily as he slowly stood up, his grip on his sword tightening. She smiled coldly at that.
"Do you think you could walk out of this Keep without dying, dear husband, should you even think to do what is on your mind?" Rhae said with a raised eyebrow as she watched him menacingly get closer to her, her heart beating faster.
Though the inkling of fear grew within her that he may well attack her, she knew that he was a cunt-bitten coward and would not dare attack her unless he knew he could get away with it.
"You dare call me shameless?" Daemon said lowly as he eyed her dangerously, seemingly ignoring the warning she'd given him.
The overwhelming anger she felt rose within her and she rose to her feet as she said "Why would I not call you shameless when you act as if you deserve to be called father by Baelon when you do not care if he lives or dies!" she spat out.
All of the anger she'd felt by the way Daemon acted with Baelon throughout the day spilled out of her in the vehemence of her words and in her voice.
She laughed coldly as she watched him grew angrier and angrier and with a sneer she continued "Where was the Rogue Prince when his son and heir was attacked by his enemies? Where was the letter to Baelon, your son and heir, to show that you care about his wellbeing?" she asked with a cold venomous smile and she enjoyed, even if it surprised her, the flash of guilt across his expression.
"Yes…" she continued but this time her voice was low yet it still continued to be as cold as the bite of the cold gales from beyond the Wall. "That is why you are shameless, Daemon." She tilted her head as she narrowed her eyes harshly.
"What was it, Daemon? Do you hate Baelon, our son, half as much as you hate me?" Before she knew it, she felt two iron-hard grips on her shoulders push her towards the wall and she felt her back smack against the back of the wall, not hard enough to harm her but enough to pain her.
"Don't ever dare claim I can hate my own flesh and blood." Daemon said with a seething and low voice, his eyes screaming with murder the way he was looking at her. "I care for Baelon more than you can ever know, woman."
"Ah…was the news that I survived the attack what stopped you then?" Rhae asked, hating how much her voice was shaking. She could not move out from his grip, so firm – and painfully – was he holding her and she was only just about able to stop a wince from showing on her face.
Something flashed in Daemon's eyes before he recollected himself and simply looked at her with guarded but cold eyes. "I did not know until many moons afterwards." He said to her in a cold voice and let go of her shoulders.
She looked momentarily surprised before she looked at him with disbelief and suspicion as she touched one of her shoulders. "I do not believe you."
Daemon snorted coldly as he looked at her with a hint of disdain. "I don't care. It is the truth. I only learnt of the attack through rumours which I later had confirmed." Daemon paused with a dark look on his expression before it passed and began to eye her with scrutiny.
"Imagine my surprise when I also learnt that I had already given word that the perpetrators would suffer my vengeance moons before I had even known of it."
"It was Baelon's protection." Rhae only said.
Daemon smiled coldly and it almost seemed agreeable. "I approve of that at least." Daemon said with a strange look before a look of raw anger flashed across his face "And it isn't a lie either…I will repay those who dared attack my son and heir."
The raw vehemence in his voice when he said that shocked her and she eyed him intently. "You care for Baelon."
Daemon lost his look of anger and in its place annoyance showed itself. "Of course I do, woman." Daemon said with irritation. "He is my flesh and blood."
"You barely could stand him when he was born." Rhae said accusingly. "You spent more time in Kings Landing than you ever did with Baelon. He'd not seen you more than a handful of times growing up."
Daemon met her gaze and looked at her angrily. "He has my eyes and my father's eyes." Daemon said before he mockingly raised his eyebrows.
"How can I not stand him? And just because my duties had gotten in the way does not mean I do not care for my own flesh and blood, my own son and heir."
"To most it would if you could only bring yourself to see him a handful of times."
"Most can go hang themselves." Daemon scoffed before he scowled at her lightly.
"What did you want from me? I'd have had to take him from you over your cold body to take him to Kings Landing" Rhae was sure he more than once contemplated it "and whenever I visited" Daemon sneered out "You'd behave like a half-horsed shrew of a woman bloodthirsty enough to claw out my eyes."
"Do not lay the blame for your absence on me." Rhae said with narrowed eyes.
"I'm not blaming you, I'm merely saying that I'd rather deal with the rat infested Kings Landing than dealing with you." Daemon said with a mocking smile.
Rhae scowled but then she breathed in and out heavily before she set her eyes on him. "Then why are you insisting on staying if you rather deal with Kings Landing?" at this, Daemon's expression darkened.
"Baelon has need of me." Daemon said in an uncharacteristically serious tone, so much so that she was taken aback.
Daemon smiled thinly as he continued "Though I have not found out exactly who it was that perpetrated the attack on our son…and yourself…" Rhae's eyebrows climbed at the tone of voice which had some sense of cautious concern.
"I am certain that I know who was behind it." Daemon said darkly.
"Your rivals in the Hightowers." Rhae surmised.
The entire Realm knew the dislike Otto Hightower, and by extension House Hightower, had with Daemon and vice versa.
"Our rivals, my dear lady wife." Daemon said with a cold smile "Do not forget that our son will be King and husband to the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms"
She never forgot. It was what kept her up at night knowing the danger that Baelon and his children would be if things stayed the same. Alicent's sons would have a very strong claim, if not the better claim according to the laws of the Realm.
Daemon continued "Baelon is a Targaryen" she clenched her teeth but kept quiet knowing that it was not the time to point that Baelon was a Royce "and descended from a male line." Daemon looked at her with a cold smirk. "And your bloodline is…respected across the Realm, especially in the Vale and the North."
"This may be the first time you're not insulting House Royce." Rhae said with irritation in her voice.
"I was loose with my words in my youth." Daemon said carefully, and her eyes widened at the admission, which was as close as to an apology without being one, and a flash of annoyance spread on his expression at her reaction.
He recomposed himself and continued.
"My son is half-Royce. He carries the blood of Kings from both bloodlines, worthy of a future King of the Seven Kingdoms and the Hightowers know that."
A dark look flashed across his face before he met her gaze. "Otto Hightower has now been whispering poison in my brother's ear to have him cancel the betrothal to Rhaenyra my grandfather set out for Baelon and instead marry her to Laenor."
Laenor Velaryon was likely the best match for the Targaryens, Rhae considered.
It brought the Velaryons back to the table and limited the chance of the Velaryons increasing their number of dragons outside of Targaryen control by having Laenor take the Targaryen name.
And, if His Grace was wise, he could negotiate a match between Laena Velaryon and her son for the slight of taking away the hand of the Princess.
The major problems with that suggestion however was Daemon and, of course, the question of why Hightowers would wish to add three dragons to Rhaenyra's strength.
"…why?" she asked with a heavy frown. "Why would the Hand want to damage the claim of his grandson with the threat the Velaryons pose?"
Daemon smirked a little "There are rumours that the Velaryon heir should have been born a woman." Her eyebrows, not for the first time, rose high when she understood before she wrinkled her nose in disgust.
Daemon laughed darkly "Aye. The boy is a sword-swallower. Seven and ten namedays old, the boy has not had a woman…and I have been to Driftmark to confirm that. He prefers the company of his fellow squires than he does a woman."
"So they hope that no issue is born from their union." Rhae surmised after wrestling her mind away from the disturbing thought of the Velaryon's proclivities.
Daemon nodded before a dark look crossed his expression "For now…Viserys is not listening." Daemon smiled bitterly "But that snake of a Hand has a silver tongue and Viserys is blind to it."
"Your brother can't change his mind." Rhae said after a few moments of considerations and after the look she received in returned she expanded. "To go back on the betrothal your Grandsire made would mean that the next King – or Queen – can undo the declarations and agreements of the previous King."
It was part of why she never sent a raven to His Grace requesting that he cancel the betrothal and let her son carry her family name without any issues.
"It would be…dangerous…and foolish considering that he intents the Princess to inherit the throne after her." Rhae added and Daemon looked thoughtful.
"Aye…" Daemon said with a frown before he turned his gaze towards her with a mocking smile "Unexpectedly insightful."
'There he is…'
Rhae scoffed before she looked at him somewhat disdainfully "I can say quite truthfully that much of what you spoke of today is also unexpectedly."
"Not as heartless or murderous as you expected?" Daemon said with a laugh.
"That and that you're less of a loiter-sack fool than I thought you were."
Daemon's crinkled in anger before he shook his head and scoffed. "Cunt."
"Bastard." She easily returned.
Daemon looked at her with some amusement before he grew serious. "I must stay and train my son. In three years, he will marry Rhaenyra. He must be capable to defend himself."
Her nostrils flared. "I have not been absent in my duties to my son. He is being trained every day."
"I expected no less." Daemon said, surprising once more with his words and tone "You have my gratitude for the son that Baelon is growing up to be." Daemon's usual careless forms of expressions were not displayed presently as he continued.
"He reminds me much of mine own father. He'll be the great King my father never got to be." Daemon said as he met her gaze.
For a few moments neither of them said nothing before she nodded slightly.
"Very well. I will not…oppose your stay." She said and Daemon ruined it with his arrogance smirk and she narrowed her eyes as she continued "But only, only, if you remain respectful."
"Of course." Daemon said with a smirk as he leaned in a little and for a moment she thought she may have made a deal with a demon from the seven hells. "I will be respectful…after all, this is my home."
Rhae bit her tongue and managed to say nothing and decided to walk away but before she left the dining hall she said one more thing. "Do not expect anything more from me, husband."
Daemon laughed coldly "I could say the very same for you, wife. I have no want to ever again hear your whimpering moans even if I enjoyed seeing you on your knees."
She bit on her tongue and she could taste blood from the effort and she turned around, glaring at him. "Neither do I have the interest to hear you grunt like an oiking and squealing pig about to be slaughtered."
Daemon narrowed his eyes "I do not grunt like a pig." He said slowly.
"You should ask the whores you pay to tell you the truth, husband." Rhae said with a cold smile and she enjoyed the flash of a sour look before she turned around and smiled a little wider as she left the dining hall.
-Break-
Mid to Late 111 AC, Corinth
Dorlund POV
He watched as the Prince studied the portraits, ignoring the alchemist, Kaerell, who produced it and was fidgeting somewhat nervously – and likely also because of the aftereffects of the liquid – with a kind of silent focus that felt…quietly suffocating.
Dorlund turned his eyes away from the prince and back at the portraits, deciding to distract himself with the…portraits.
These were amongst four dozen Kaerell had painted over the span of several days but these ones, these ones were more directly related to the Prince and his family.
Each of them, all four of them, were profound in their own ways, and had they not the connotations that they had, he might even say that they were impressive.
Kaerell was truly talented…
One of them, the one that the Prince was staring at, showed a pair of flames in the shape of eyes casting over monoliths made of black stone which loomed over red bricked monoliths, which showed signs of repair but still looked fragile as if they were ready to crumble, whilst there was a familiar blue and maroon coloured dragon in the distance with a shadow that looked like it was chasing the dragon.
It was…ominous to say the least.
It wasn't the only ominous portrait but it was the most…obvious? Yes…that's the best way to put. At least the fourth one, which showed dragons flying over what seemed to be a mountain, wasn't too bad…
"This…" the Prince finally broke the silence as he looked towards the second portrait "Do you recall what you saw…what it seemed like? Felt like?"
The third portrait was a mess of a painting with what looked like a raging impossibly wide river with ships threatening to keel over but he wasn't sure what it meant. Did it meant Elamaerys' river would be a problem?
"I saw an ocean…no, definitely a river, a river that was almost as large as a sea, fast, so fast, able to carry away ships ten times larger than a galleon…" Kaerell said a little nervously before adding "I think it did. It felt like it did anyway…"
The Prince hummed and waved Kaerell to continue and Kaerell did so.
"I also saw something in the middle of the river, so tall that it could touch the sky, and so strong that it could resist the power of the river, never moving, never shaking." Kaerell breathed a little nervously before adding.
"I think…it smelt like the earth…and it felt I was being touched by stone and bark and ice and fire, all at the same time." Kaerell was confused and disturbed.
There was a moment of silence "…anything more?" the Prince asked and Kaerell shook his head.
"No, my Prince. That was all on this one." Kaerell said, already having explained his visions of the other portraits.
"Thank you for your service, Kaerell." The Prince said after he turned fully to the alchemist, a faint smile on his face. "Your service to our people will not be forgotten."
Kaerell smiled somewhat uneasily but Dorlund could see the happiness in his eyes.
It didn't surprise Dorlund to see the happiness in Kaerell's eyes. It was well known that those who did well in service to the Royal family were often richly rewarded.
"I live to serve, my Prince."
After that, Kaerell left, leaving behind the Prince and Dorlund alone.
"It looks like we've truly found the right balance with the Shade of the Evening." The Prince said as he glanced at the door momentarily before looking to Dorlund.
Dorlund inclined his head slightly "Yes, my Prince. The elixir, with moderation, seems to detract away the most negative aspects whilst only slightly dimming the intensity and clarity of the visions."
Through experimentation, they discovered that diluting the potency of the Shade of the Evening with water and an herb native to an island in the Jade Sea named qa'at stabilised the visions into something more coherent and less taxing on the body.
There were still addictive issues with the Shade of the Evening but it was more manageable now. They just had to make sure the individual didn't consume more than two doses in a week, and ideally a fortnight would be the best time gap for the next set of doses.
The prince said wryly "I'd argue against the point of dimming clarity. It's not as if we were peering through time with the Shade of Evening in the first place."
Dorlund smiled a little amused "Aye. I suppose so." The individuals who consumed the elixir were never coherent enough to relay what they were seeing in clear terms.
This way at least, with the likes of Kaerell who possessed significant artistic talent, thanks to his secretive practicing when he was being brought up to be a scribe, they were able to peer into the kind of visions they were seeing without having to subject themselves to the…dramatic effects of the Shade of the Evening.
Dorlund lost the smile a little as he peered cautiously at the Prince "You know what they mean, do you not, my Prince?" he hadn't asked before but now…
The Prince was silent for a moment before he smiled somewhat at Dorlund, his eyes seemingly studying him with some curiosity "I do. So do you of course."
Dorlund nodded a little hesitantly "I do…I have been careful to misdirect the assumptions to the obvious target." Namely being Myr. Everyone knew a war was on the horizon, the only thing they'd been uncertain about was whether or not it would happen before or after most of their people had left.
It was clear now that the war would happen after. Fortunately though, the number who knew where exactly the war would be waged could be counted on one hand.
"I know. You have my appreciation, Dorlund. Your loyalty will not be forgotten." The Prince was sincere in his tone…and Dorlund could tell that he was also sincere that he knew of his misdirections. The implications did not offend Dorlund.
The Prince frowned a little. "I am concerned mostly about the red eyes, the shadow that seems to follow me, and the angry fire-breathing dragons in the West."
The second portrait possessed the angry dragons within it.
"the angry fire-breathing dragons are more or less self explanatory" the Prince said with an amused glint in his eyes before he lost it as he continued with a more grave expression "the shadow is probably as dire as the red eyes though perhaps more so for me personally."
Dorlund understood. "Assassins?"
The Prince only offered a half-smile before he shrugged almost carelessly "It is a certainty that I am going to offend and upset a great many people."
Dorlund's eyebrows raised a little at the casual nature in which he said that.
"I see…" Dorlund said, unsure what else to say on that.
The Prince seemed to catch it "Don't worry about it. It'll be handled." The Prince said amused and Dorlund couldn't help but wonder what he meant by that. He didn't dare pry however and the Prince spoke up again, closing that door shut.
"The Red Eyes are more concerning to me…especially what they could mean."
"The Red Eyes…that is likely the Red God?" Dorlund mused with some dread. It was the most obvious and direct assumption to make and Dorlund resisted the urge to shudder as the thought of the Red God having an oily black stone at a temple altar in Volantis passed through his mind.
"I hope not." The Prince said with grave note to his voice and Dorlund was reminded to the image of the Prince shaken and pale in his cabin trying hard to keep his composure.
That experience had scarred them both and yet oddly it also united them in cause. The abominable magic that created that entity, or sustained it, had instilled a deep hatred of all things sacrificial and evil magic in both of them.
Some of Dorlund's research was looking into the legends of the past, like Lightbringer which was said to have killed the Nightking, a tale that is remembered by many, many peoples even if there was variation in the tales.
That meant that there were weapons in the world, or had been, that could slay these kind of foul entities. He wanted to answer two questions…could he find hints of where – and what – they were…and could he perhaps recreate them otherwise?
Perhaps…
"Fortunately, the eyes did not seem to be anything more than gazing." The Prince said, drawing Dorlund back from his thoughts.
"So observing rather than acting?"
"I think that is most likely. I won't be acting against it or its faith so it should not be so eager to be a problem for me" the Prince said and there was a strange glint in his eyes that suggested that there was far more he was leaving unsaid.
"No, I think it is quite possible the eyes are representative. It could be that Volantis will be a problem." The Prince smiled somewhat thinly "As it always would have."
"It's a shame Fororlan is dead." Dorlund said with a sigh. He did miss the slippery-tongued mentor of his. Especially in matters like this. Whilst he might not have been off of the Old Blood of Volantis, he was still a fairly prominent member of society there.
The Alchemist Guild there, whilst not particularly as large as the Poisoner (Alchemist) Guilds in Lys, or as popular, was at least a notable guild. He would certainly have been of some kind of influence there in the past and he might have been able to help the Prince on this matter.
"Hmm. His insight on the politics of the Volantene could have been of some use but not much. We already know much about them anyway. Perhaps if he knew some of the nobility there…perhaps." The Prince said with a shake of the head.
"Still, I do not discount the Red Priests either."
"Yes…they could pose a problem." Dorlund admitted a little reluctantly.
Fororlan did mention that the Red Priests almost certainly were capable of some amount of magic, most of it rooted in blood magic and sacrificial magic.
And…since the Prince was most certainly going to war in Essos, the influence of the Red Faith was going to be a problem too. Much of the Essosi worshiped the Red God and if the Red Priests opposed the Prince even if the Red God didn't…
"Hmm. At least it doesn't show my death." The Prince said with a shake of the head and Dorlund frowned a little at the tone. He knew that the Prince thought that the visions were more 'deterministic', meaning the future was already set, than it was 'chaotic' but Dorlund wasn't in agreement with that idea.
Not only because he heavily disliked the idea that choice was an illusion, but also because it meant that visions were more or less pointless. What was the point of being able to peer into the possible futures if they were 'deterministic'?
Where naught you could do could change your supposed fate?
Where ignorance was truly bliss?
He did not wish to believe this world was such a…hopeless one, where entities and Gods played man like a fiddle in their games…
"How are the preparations going for the departure?" the Prince's voice drew him back out from his thoughts and he blinked a few times before he answered.
"Preparations are going well. All of our critical goods, tomes and equipment are all in crates or will be in the next few days."
About two-thirds of the Alchemists were leaving for Elamaerys, himself included.
The rest would remain and it wasn't hard to understand for what purpose.
Even if the stores of wildfyre they had, especially with the way of 'mass-producing' wildfyre had more than hundred-fold increased their production rates, was far more than what the Prince might need, Dorlund understood that the Alchemists would be needed to deal with the alchemic solution.
"Good. I will have some of the men come by and load them up on the ships." The Prince said to Dorlund and he nodded to that before he frowned lightly.
"It is a shame we were unable to ascertain the value of the tomes within the Alchemist Guild in Volantis." Dorlund said with a faint sigh. Though Fororlan often effused that the Alchemist Guild possessed no great library of tomes on magic, he also knew that Fororlan feared the Prince.
It was not out of the realm of possibility that Fororlan may have…obfuscated the true value of the library within the Volantene Guild.
He'd requested several years ago that Prince Aegon see about obtaining more tomes for them, and though the Prince had, none of it had come from Volantis and unfortunately it seemed like the window was closing…or rather it already closed.
Mayhaps he'd expected too much from the Prince, especially now that the Guild had unscrupulous eyes on them because of rumours that wildfyre was used during the war in the Basilisk Isles.
It likely caused their increased aggressiveness in defending their secrets. And the Volantene Alchemist Guild were not exactly known to be open with their knowledge or their services in the first place.
The Alchemist Guild of Volantis was the last order of its kind, an order of Pyromancers that gained in prominence in the century after the Doom when Old Valyria had died and took with it its Elders in all things magic.
At their height of their power, they claimed they were able to transmute metal, create beings of living fire, and to give true credit, there were…rumours some of their magicks was used during the Century of Blood when Volantis warred with all of Valyria's daughters, allowing them to capture the likes of Tyrosh and Myr despite their fused stone walls.
There was even a gate in the Tyroshi Walls that looked like it was built around an opening that looked as if it was molten through, something that gives credence to this rumour.
But just as soon as they rose to the upper echelons of power and prominence with their magics, their fall was quick and harsh, and Fororlan had his suspicions that the Warlocks of Qarth had likely had a hand in the quick demise of many esteemed Wisdoms during that era, mayhaps even with the aid of the Faceless Men.
And according to Fororlan, the Volantene Alchemists possessed no great stores of knowledge, or otherwise, as he once so eloquently told him 'I'd never have upset those misery fools if I had known they secreted away tomes of power'.
But Dorlund had long suspected that entirely wasn't the truth, nor did he think Fororland had been privy to their greatest of secrets.
He'd agreed that the loss of the Wisdoms was likely the trigger for a great deal of loss of knowledge passed down from the word of mouth, from master to apprentice, but he also reasoned that there had likely been enough Old Knowledge remaining to entice the Guild to continue on their so-called quest for 'deciphering the higher mysteries' and not sell their goods or services to the highest bidder, especially now that the opportunity of earning great riches was before them.
Why resist to aid wealthy nobles or Cities with casks full of wildfyre when it could earn you gold to last you lifetimes instead of earning pitiful amounts by selling medicine and the like if it wasn't to remain unnoticed to the wider world?
To keep curious eyes away from the secrets you may hold?
Still, Dorlund mused, he wondered how long they'd keep control over their members. Even if it took a combination of a man like Fororlan and the safe bosom of a Dragonlord to prevent the Volantene from going to further lengths to secure their secrets, Dorlund did not think it impossible that the next man who broke rank would open the gates of defectors…
Not when nobles could offer a lifetime of luxury and prestige.
Or worse, mayhaps they'd wisen up and succumb to the lures of riches anyway, or more likely, to sell wildfyre in order to protect their other secrets.
"Yes…it is." The Prince paused before he turned fully toward Dorlund and met his gaze. "I suppose I may as well inform you that we won't be able to…acquire much from the Alchemist Guild in Volantis now…or ever."
Dorlund took a moment to process before his eyebrows climbed at the comment.
"I only found out recently that the building that housed the Alchemist Guild burned down with no survivors." The Prince said to Dorlund with indifference.
"…I see." Dorlund said slowly.
"Yes…it is unfortunate." The Prince said with a faint smile that did not reach his eyes. "It seems like the entirety of the Guild was present at the time. As of right now, it is quite likely our people are the only ones who are capable of producing wildfyre and other advanced alchemy." The Prince said and Dorlund glanced at the Prince, understanding the words for what they were.
He doubted that all of the Alchemists were present all at the same time in their building. Mayhaps that was indeed the case, after all, they may well decided to do so, so as to protect themselves from those who wished to take their secrets, but he suspected that the Prince specifically had all of them hunted down as much as possible.
A glimmer of his understanding showed itself in his eyes.
"I see." Dorlund said carefully as he met the Prince's gaze. "The world won't miss the stagnant lot. After all, they had done little with wildfyre in all those centuries, missing the enormous potential the alchemic liquid had with the way it burnt."
The Prince began to smile now though there was a glint in his eyes that Dorlund understood very well and Dorlund nodded slowly without saying anything.
'The message is clear' Dorlund thought to himself.
Dorlund did consider that a large part of the reason of the majority of their Guild leaving for Elamaerys, as much as it was to ensure the research and the alchemists were safe, was also because the Prince wanted to ensure that none of the more…knowledgeable alchemists left.
Especially not after the discovery they made, not after how much Dorlund had seen wildfyre change in terms of value to Prince Aegon, going from valuable to priceless.
So much so that Prince Aegon likely made the decision to get rid of the only ones Prince Aegon saw as a threat and it was doubtless the admittance of the fate of the Alchemist was a warning for Dorlund to ensure no betrayal would come for Prince Aegon.
This side of the Prince didn't surprise Dorlund.
Most of the people in Corinth were fanatically loyal to Prince Aegon and his family. They saw him as righteous, just, and most importantly, caring about them like none others who ruled them had ever done.
And nearly all of them…never saw how the Prince could truly be.
"Quite sudden." Dorlund said carefully, the question in his words clear. He was…curious to know why the Prince decided now of all times.
Whilst wildfyre became valuable and all others who could make it became threats, there was little to no chance of the Volantene discovering what the Prince had posited they could do with the wildfyre.
"They behaved unexpectedly and it was the root of their demise." The Prince explained and Dorlund began to understand a little, especially since he'd understood already the pressures that were on them when some of the escaped corsairs waggled their tongues.
"I take they were consorting with…unsavoury elements?" Dorlund questioned.
The Prince hummed positively "Aye, they were. It was why they met their demise" the Prince said with a wry smile that seemed to Dorlund to border vindictiveness.
"They were being…courted to be agreeable by one of the Free Cities." The Prince said with a growing coldness in his eyes "Unfortunately for them, it was how and why they met their demise. Fortunately to the world, their loss is of no importance"
"Save for their tomes." Dorlund muttered with a sigh.
At this, the Prince did smile a little commiserating "Aye. Unfortunately, the only way we could have succeeded in taking what we wanted would have been through storming their building and storming an Alchemists' building is a volatile choice to say the least."
Dorlund's lips twitched at the dark jest before the Prince continued. "Whatever we have lost in opportunity, I am sure that the next few years will provide us with greater discoveries of our own." The Prince gestured towards the paintings.
"Through experimentation and through intuition, we'll discover the wonders of this world…both the natural and the mystical." The Prince picked up a paintbrush and moved towards one of the blank canvases and after dipping the tip into yellow paint, he drew a round ball with two hook-like pipes on the white canvas.
"And this is the first stepping stone to that future, Dorlund."
Dorlund eyed the familiar image and his memories went back to a strange few weeks over a year ago.
One of the alchemists managed to find an even stabler solution of wildfyre although it was less potent but it made it up by using more…common ingredients.
The Alchemist, Aricho the Blue-Browed – a name given to him following an explosion that tinged his brows, and hair, a darkly blue for several moons – had written up a report on his findings, focusing on how long the wildfyre burnt.
The Prince had read the findings and the very next day had gone to the blacksmiths with several drawings and ordered the blacksmiths to have the parts made.
Exactly as the Prince had drawn it.
And they had done so within a few days. Two domes were made, each of them having stilts welded at their base before they were welded together once hook-like pipes were fitted at the seams of the weld between the domes, and then the stilts were connected to a brass based that had three legs equally spaced.
The odd round cauldron was half-filled with water and then a bowl of carefully measured stabilised wildfyre was placed underneath it.
Moments later, the wildfyre was set alight and it hadn't taken long before steam began to rise out of the pipe-holes, spinning the cauldron. First slowly, then rapidly. And it continued spinning for more than an hour.
One hour and twenty-two minutes, according to the scholar gifted in mathematics that Prince Aegon had brought. It was the first time he'd seen Prince Aegon as surprised and as astonished as was halfway through the experiment.
It was also the very first time he'd seen the Prince as pleased as he was when Aricho told him that his modification of wildfyre was able to garner several folds greater quantities of wildfyre than the typical methods of production.
In the time since, the Prince had focused substantial number of the Alchemists and Scholars to figure out a way to increase production even more, to hundred fold or more increase in the production of wildfyre.
Prince Aegon had explained the principles of energy transformation, from heat energy to what he called kinetic energy, and explained through the terms of sustenance as the equivalent of heat energy which transformed into forms of energy that can be used to produce 'work'.
The Prince explained that if wildfyre could be made safe, and could be made in plentiful amounts, they could 'extract' this energy and use it for 'work', like watermills spinning by the force of the water-stream, except they could use it to replace simple and laborious tasks in the city and elsewhere.
It took some time to understand, and he only got to understand fully what the Prince meant when he'd showed Dorlund and others the simple but repetitive task of the 'printing press' which required men to lift and place continuously, but he saw why the Prince had seen wildfyre as priceless.
"A future that will also see the Guild's future secured." Dorlund said with a wry note in his voice. The coin that the Guild could and would earn from providing numerous Guilds with the stable wildfyre concoction to be used for production would undoubtedly be significant. Dorlund was looking forward to it, particularly because it could fund countless number of experiments and purchases without needing to rely on the Royal Family for funding.
The Prince looked at him with some amusement.
"Aye. Becoming an Alchemist should certainly become a coveted position once our new homeland has reached maturity." The Prince placed his arms behind his back as he eyed Dorlund "My son being amongst its numbers will also do much to improve the Guild's standings within our society."
Dorlund nodded slightly.
The young Prince Polaerys would, once he was deemed ready, take lessons from himself and a number of other Alchemists on Alchemy and magic.
Dorlund was looking forward to it, especially since he got the impression that Prince Aegon believed his son to be talented in magic. The very thought of having a Dragonlord aiding him fulltime in his research and experiments regarding the slaying of foul beings…
It was a shame that Prince Aegon was adamant that Prince Polaerys was not to learn any magic until he was well into his teens.
"Any further progress with the concoctions to deal with the pests in Elamaerys?" the Prince and he answered the Prince's questions before they continued to talk about their other experiments and any new ideas that the Guild was looking to pursue.
-Break-
Mid to Late 111 AC, Corinth
Okahr POV
He walked through town with his arm interlocked, taking in the sight of so many shops threadbare of all goods, the streets almost chaotic with how many people seemed to walk in a rush. 'It really is happening. It feels so sudden…so soon' he thought to himself as he watched a family carry their goods and all that they owned through the busy street.
"You'd think we were under siege." Zhoznizzi joked as she watched the sight with a strange fascination with her black-brown eyes slightly widened as she took everything in.
Both of them had finished their duties with the Scholars – their lessons on administrations and diplomacy were long over and they'd been tasked to help manage a number of responsibilities within Corinth such as tax assessments and assisting with fundings and payments for public works – so they decided to spend the day watching the preparation for the long journey to Elamaerys, the seventh type of its kind.
Though this one was a little more special. This wave would include ten thousand people, the highest number of people leaving at any one time.
Not only that, once these ten thousand reached Elamaerys, it would also mark the point that there were more people in Elamaerys than there were in Corinth, with thirty-five thousand in Corinth and thirty-seven thousand in Elamaerys.
And, of course, this wave also included the Prince and his family leaving for Elamaerys. Including their dragons.
So it was understandable to say the least that Corinth was…chaotic.
"It's not that bad." Okahr said with a faint smile. He'd long ago learnt that Zho had a tendency to exaggerate a little…mayhaps a little more than just 'a little'…
Zho looked at him a little unimpressed. "Who amongst us has been under a siege?"
And of course, she was also quite strange in her own little way. No one else would boast being under a siege.
"The siege lasted but a few days before the sellsword army were paid to go away." He said with narrowed eyes. Zho had been a slave born in Tolos and in her childhood, the city had been in a dispute with the sellsword army they'd paid to help defend against a small khalasar that wondered by the city.
"So? Doesn't change the fact that I know what a siege looks like and you do not so if I say it looks like a siege, it looks like a siege." Zho said with an unrepentant tone to her voice and he felt a wave of exasperation wash over him though there was a part of him that wondered how much she'd changed over the past few years.
He remembered meeting her as if it was yesterday, this soft-faced young woman with her head bowed and her gentle voice, remindful of so many others he knew in Astapor.
Yet when she was self-assured that she was indeed free, assured that she was free to speak as she wished, in moderation though she never truly exercised it much to his exasperation, assured that she was truly was free, he'd begun to see her value.
There was a sharpness in her, one that he himself had, a sharpness that helped you survive when the slightest misstep or wrongly uttered word could see you stripped of your life, though her sharpness was more attuned to diplomacy, able as she was to intuit danger and how to…disarm a tense situation using her wiles and wit.
It also meant that she could adjust herself to different audiences and he was one of the few where she could be unrepentantly brash and unrestrained. He wasn't entirely sure if he considered himself fortunate or unfortunate…
"Anyway" she continued as if she hadn't been childish and he smiled a little wryly to himself at her sudden switch in expression and tone "I don't see the sense to rush as they are now. They're not meant to leave for another three days."
"Have you not heard? The amount of goods they can bring with them has been limited. There are concerns about weight and the like." He told her and she blinked in surprise before she frowned at him.
"Really? There wasn't this issue with the other journeys." She said curiously.
"The other journeys don't include heavy items and tools like anvils and the like." Okahr said wryly. Many who were joining this journey were amongst those who worked in the textile, porcelain, luxury and other such industries as well, many of whom were being allowed to bring their tools and equipment with them.
To date, most of the people who had gone to Elamaerys were men who were involved in more physical intensive industries, like farmers, builders, lumberman and so on, and with their wives, their children and many of the orphans.
Now, much of the rest were beginning their journey.
"I hadn't heard." Zho said with a frown before she shook her head "This place is going to be very different, isn't it?" she said with a strange note in her voice. It almost sounded like concern…
"Yes." Okahr admitted. "It also won't be long before this place is abandoned." 'Or at least looks like its abandoned' he thought to himself.
A year, mayhaps a year and a half, he reckoned, would be all that remained until it really was abandoned. The journey to Elamaerys was around four to five moons long and if they continued to build the galleons, it wouldn't be surprising to him for it to be over in two or three journeys.
"We'll be last to leave. Or mayhaps they intend to give the town to us. After we're done with our roles." Zho joked and he gave her a long look in response before he looked around and tugged her along a little harshly.
"No one heard." Zho said with a roll of the eyes though her voice was substantially lower as she spoke.
"It won't be long before someone hears if you speak as you are now." Okahr said in a disappointed tone. "How is it that you can be so careful yet on other times so reckless, Zhoznizzi?"
This got her to straighten up a little and he caught her glance around her as they made their way to the gates of the city before she answered. "People rarely pay mind to the conversation of others around, least of all conversations of those who are unimportant as we are." Zho said with a glint in her eyes.
"Zhoznizzi…" Okahr frowned heavily as he said her name. He knew what she was inferring to, the strange way he and her and the other several hundreds were being taught, all of whom had come from places in Slaver's Bay.
To be truthful, their whole journey to Corinth was strange, no matter how thankful he was to Uthrik for giving him his freedom. His freedom seemed random, chosen and given on a random whim, and it seemed like it was much the same for many of his fellows from Slaver's Bay.
And when they arrived, a whole slew of questions were asked of them, to share what they knew of their cities, their neighbourhoods, of the families that resided in their cities, and they later learnt that such questions were rarely asked of the other former slaves that came the Disputed Lands or near it.
And it didn't end there, the differences. Where everyone else was more or less free to choose their path, their path had been effectively made, teaching them administration, diplomacy and managing coin.
He did not begrudge this, nor did he begrudge the people of Corinth who'd welcomed him and his fellows with open arms, but at the time...
It was different. They knew that now.
And, none of them, he and his fellows, were leaving for Elamaerys, having been told by the Prince himself that their time was not yet to leave for Elamaerys, that they still had a role to fulfil for a few years alongside him before they left with him to Elamaerys. They begun to understand as to what that role was.
It was clear that there was a war coming with Myr and it was beginning to seem like their fate entwined with that of Essos rather than Elamaerys.
Zhoznizzi's stressing the point of unimportance was related to that.
It seemed like their role in the coming war was going to be aid in administrating, or something along those lines, the Free City and Zho was not happy that they were not given a choice in that matter. Not really.
"Fine, fine." Zho said quickly and she shook her head "I'll stop." She peered at him and smirked a little teasingly "I won't ruin this well-earned day of ours." She said with a coy note in her voice as she held on more tightly onto his arm.
"You're a beast." Okahr muttered though there was a smile of amusement on his face and she giggled softly at his reaction. This woman…
They continued to walk and almost an hour later they made it to the docks and he marvelled at seeing rows upon rows of galleons and four much larger strange looking ships in the main harbour, crates upon crates of all kinds of sizes being loaded up onto the ships.
He'd seen this several times now, galleons being prepared for departure, yet this time, there was a different air to it…almost as if this journey was more than a simple journey. That it truly marked the beginning of the settling of the fabled Elamaerys, the promised land.
For a moment, he thought of Nymera's Ten-Thousand Ships, and he wondered if it was at all similar to how the Rhoynar must have looked when they stocked their ships and prepared for the journey to Dorne, their last journey…
"Come, let us eat, we've been walking for some time." Zho said to him and he agreed. They'd spent much of their free afternoon walking through the city and now the port and they'd worked up an appetite to be sure.
They went to an inn by the main harbour, one that catered mostly to dockworkers – during the return of merchant ships these inns were stock full of young and unmarried sailors unwilling to stay with their parents – and a light stew was served up for lunch.
He spent much of the meal listening to parts of the conversation of the rather talkative men and he was amused to hear crassness intermixed with their conversations about Elamaerys.
The way they talked about a few things reminded him of the harbours in Astapor.
The amusement he felt, fell away at the reminder of his…hom-…of Astapor and his mind drifted away as he began to think about Astapor.
He'd been a servant of a middling merchant family for much of his life – he'd been born on an estate on the Worm River – and thusly, much of his life had involved Astapor.
A city he hated but a city that was a part of him. A city that bore arrays of trees, vines and flowers, and a city that bore the sounds of the howling cries of slaves during the height of noon at the centre of the city.
Fighting pits that showed and displayed glory and honour yet could so easily show horrors for the entertainment of the masses – screams of delight at the gruesome fate of slaves by those who wore slave marks flashed in his mind – the city of Astapor was a well of contradictions that he had yet to settle fully within himself.
He kept it in his mind for some time even as he talked and drank with Zho and much later, at the turn of the eve, he couldn't help but ask her.
"Do you ever miss Tolos?" Okahr asked Zho and he could tell that she was surprised by the question. He'd never asked her such a question.
"No." she said quickly and easily before she added. "I hated the city, I hated the people, I hated the other slaves." Zho said seriously before she eyed him intently.
"Do you miss Astapor?" she asked him and it was a question laced with several different questions.
"I do not." It was true as well. He hated the city. And…"I don't hate the people or the slaves, well, outside of the slavers and the Good Masters."
"I would have thought something wrong with you if you did not hate them." Zho said in a half-jokingly. The reason why she likely hated the slaves after all was that they were probably content with their lot in life. Zho was a good reader of people and it wouldn't surprise him if she picked up on that contentedness.
"Why ask then?" Zho asked with a confused look.
"Whilst I do not miss Astapor…there are some parts of it that I do miss." At Zho's expression he smiled a little amused. "I mean, for example, when I was a young boy, I learnt that there were trees that sprouted fruits that are alike to that of lemons but red in flesh. They tasted very bitter but had a sweetness to them and they were also very watery." He smiled a little to himself as he remembered those early days.
"It was during my youth…mere moons after I was sold by my former owner" 'and my likely father…' "One of the other servants was about my age and showed me around the neighbourhood and showed me these fruits." He looked directly into Zho's eyes. "The freedmen and the Good Master families didn't bother with these fruits – I never really learnt the reason why – so throughout my life, I always picked them and ate them when I had the chance."
He looked to his drink "I realise now that moments like that helped me more than I could have ever realised…back then."
He realised that in those moments, he'd forgotten that he was a slave if only very brief moments. Eating those fruits, picked by his own hands, eating them for his own enjoyment rather than eating food that granted to him by owners, who fed him not for his wellbeing but to sustain him like livestock…
Those moments were rare and precious.
"…I understand." Zho said a little quietly and he looked to her and he saw her look away into the distance. "I do miss a few things about Tolos…yes."
The rest of their eve went by quiet and their conversation after that solemn moment veered to much more interesting conversation points, like the arrival of the six aged gladiators several weeks ago who were mostly amongst the knights and trained men and rarely elsewhere.
Neither of them had spoken to those former gladiators, but Zho had heard that they'd come from Meereen, and that two of them had even fought in the Golden Pit, a famous fighting pit that was rumoured to have the grandest battles in all of the Known World.
Both of them were very curious of about the gladiators, especially since gladiators were rarely set free and most almost certainly died in the ring. To see men in their forties after a life of fighting in the pits still live was a great surprise.
He wondered how their freedoms was purchased…
By the time they left the inn, both of them were slightly drunk – especially after they'd joined in in cheer and drank an entire goblet of ale with the rest of the people in the inn – and they made way to return back to their rooms, or room, with the way Zho was holding his arm.
He looked at her and saw her look at the galleons that they could only faintly see and he wondered what she was thinking. "What are you thinking?"
She turned to him, a mischievous smile on her face as she spoke up, she said, almost giggling "Just wondering if I could get away with marking the ships with a special symbol" she said before she made a lewd symbol with her hand that he could infer was meant to mean a penis.
"Your chances are very low…you're more likely to fall in the river before you can get even half of it done." He said with a laugh and she hit him on the arm.
"I can pull it off…especially if you help me. I can pull yours later." She said with a suggestive wink. He looked at her a little unimpressed.
"Whatever I do tonight, you're still going to do that tonight anyway." He said with an easy smile. He might have said it was arrogance but it was true enough. When she was in a mood like this, he could tell he was in for a good night.
She narrowed her eyes before she sighed, her cheeks widening as she blew, "Aye, you're right, Harpy be damned." She said with a sour note and he laughed at her tone.
"A shame though." She said as she eyed the ships with a strange expression on her face. He studied her expression intently and continued to study her face even as she lost the look once she noticed he was looking.
"What?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. He looked away from her as they walked on the road back to Corinth. "What?" she asked again, digging her elbow into his side.
"You could be on one of those ships you know…if you really wanted to." Okahr said quietly before he glanced at her. Mayhaps he was wrong but he didn't think he was. She was afraid and the things she was saying…and wanted to do, were reactions to that fear of hers.
He continued "I can speak on your behalf. There are few women amongst us and the role" he said a little quieter even though there no one around them for several hundred yards "is likely to be dangerous even if it is for a few years. They are not heartless."
Zho stopped before she looked up and met his gaze with a heavy frown though he couldn't be sure with how dark it was, even with the gleaming stars overhead.
"I've already told you, I don't want to go." Zho said, her voice slightly defensive.
"I know, I know." Okahr said disarmingly.
"But if the possibility is there…you should think about it." Okahr said and he knew that his disarming tone was not calming her as much as he'd like. "Or mayhaps you should join the Sept and become a Septa…they definitely can't deny you the chance to go to Elamaerys then." He joked.
"And what about you? Would you go if you could?" Zho asked sharply.
"Yes…"
"Even if the Prince…if Uthrik asked you not to? Would you still go?" Zho asked.
She knew that there was a large part of him that felt a sense of obligation, something that had grown ever since he'd become free.
He had a debt that he may never repay, a debt that he never thought he'd incur, and he owed it to Uthrik, and by proxy, the Prince.
"I thought so." Zho said with a heavy sigh before she said firmly "I'll leave when you leave." before she looked at him with a sour expression "So stop asking." She said in a voice that was quite petulant as she took hold of his arm and it made Okahr smile.
This woman…
They had a strange relationship but it was one of trust…and at the least friendship.
He knew a little about her life in Tolos and the suffering she incurred at the hands of her former masters – the long scar above her left thigh told many a tales… - so he knew that such trust and friendship meant more to her than marriage.
Not that he would stop asking her.
One day she'd agree if only stop him from asking…
"Fine, fine…I accept that I am stuck with you." He joked
Zho looked offended at his words "Stuck? Pah! You should be grateful I dare put up with you!" he laughed and for the rest of the journey to Corinth, they laughed and joked with one another until they finally reached his home and by then both of their lips were too busy to utter a single word.
-Break-
Mid to Late 111 AC – Corinth
Gael POV
"Shushhh, calm Shrykos." Valarr intoned with as much as he could as he petted the dragon's snout as he was being led by the dragonkeepers up the ramp and into the huge barge that was to carry the dragon for the next four moons.
The barge was as shapely as a galleon though it was substantially wider and taller than a galleon, almost four times as wide as a galleon.
They'd learnt their lessons with their first barges when they'd moved from Dragonstone to Corinth, where the barges had been unable to suitably handle the weight of the dragons and had caused them to slow down their travel substantially.
These barges were made to handle the sizes of each dragon, with each barge custom made for each dragon – though Liāzmariña and Mīsaragorn would share the same barge since they only needed one of them presently – and though the expectation was that the barges should be able to handle the weight of the dragons, the greater concern was whether or not the dragons could be controlled.
Four moons on the open sea was a very long time for dragons to remain idle, even in the presence and care of several dragonkeepers on each barge, and it concerned both her and Aegon that the dragons would prove to be unruly with their sons being so young and inexperienced with their dragon-bond.
It had been why she'd acquiesced and allowed her sons to rider their dragons almost a year ago once she and Aegon had deemed their sons responsible enough.
The more they rode, the more they'd grow a bond with their dragons and they'd seen that happen over the past year as her sons took to ride their dragons practically on a daily basis.
Unfortunately however, Shrykos was quite an unruly dragon. The other dragons, including her Liāzmariña, had already been homed in their barges, behaving, but Shrykos…
She turned towards Aegon who was watching their son and his dragon. She could see the concern in his eyes. "Are you reconsidering sedating him?"
He'd confessed to her that he considered the possibility some time ago though it wasn't specifically just for Shrykos either.
Aegon turned to her and let off a small sigh before he answered. "No. The risk is far too great." Aegon told her and she knew that he was talking about the possibility of being caught in a storm. Though it was Spring – they intentionally pushed back their departure until it was Spring – the possibilities of a storm were still there.
Yes, the seas should be calm during this season but nature seldom obeyed sense.
The last thing they'd want is for their dragons be sedated during a storm, as good as consigning their dragons to death.
"We'll just have to make sure that our ship formation remains exactly as it should be." Aegon added, referring to the four ships, one of them being theirs, tugging the barges in a close ship formation.
If need be, they could go to the barges and calm the dragons relatively quickly should there be a need for it. Whilst her eldest sons' dragons were obeying her boys a lot more since they'd ridden them, subsequently causing the dragons to be less prone to fly on their own, the dragons were ultimately still that…dragons.
They were prone to their own desires and it was part of why they made the barges the way they were…flat and open with a large deck – with a hatch that led downward to an inner bay – on which they could comfortably land back on to after their flight.
They hoped they could address that want of flight of their dragons however, by allowing their dragons to take flight during the stillest portions of the journey.
It took some time but thankfully Shrykos settled into the bay of the barge after some soothing from Valarr, finally taking care of that part of the preparation of the journey, a journey that would start on the morn tomorrow.
"You did well, my son." Aegon said with a warm smile for his son as he ruffled their son's hair and she also smiled at her son.
Valarr smiled at them "Thanks!" Valarr then frowned a little "I don't think he'll be always in the barge though." Valarr said with a note of concern in his voice.
"He won't be." Gael reassured. "All of the dragons will be fly a few times."
Valarr then peaked a little at that "Can we fly them then?"
"Mayhaps" Gael said with great reluctance. She would much prefer if there was no need for any of her boys to be off of their ship. "We'll see."
"We don't want you or your brothers off of the ship, Valarr, even if the seas are calm, so if you can make sure Shrykos is calm during the trip, please do." Aegon said as he met Valarr's gaze.
Valarr sighed, looking a little downcast but he nodded anyway "I will father." Valarr promised and Aegon happily ruffled Valarr's hair.
"Good boy. Now go to our ship. We will shortly come join you."
And soon enough she was left with Aegon after Valarr was escorted back to the ship with a few of the guards.
The next few hours involved her and Aegon sitting down with the captains of the fleet, each of whom were tasked, amongst many other things, of keeping a log of all that was on board of their ships, including estimations of the weight they carried, along with the dispersion of the supplies each ship kept.
The ships that were going to tug the barges, including the one that would carry her family, were purposefully kept as light as possible, so that the speed of the fleet could be roughly remain the same at full sail.
The majority of the weight of the barges was not the dragons themselves – Liāzmariña was mayhaps the exception as she was several times the weight of Tyraxes, Polaerys' dragon, which was the heaviest amongst her sons' dragons – but the barges themselves. Tonnes upon tonnes of hardwood on a widened and enlargened structure was needed to house the dragons and as such, was the bulk of the weight that they'd be tugging along.
The other galleons would be carrying much of the industry of Corinth, the weaving, the porcelain and the many other small industries, and with that came the problem of ensuring that ships were not overloaded.
They also talked about the conditions of the ships – after every journey the ships were given to be looked over by a score of dockworkers and shipbuilders – and any concerns the captains or any of the crew had about the ships they were captaining.
They already talked about it several times over the past few weeks, but it was part of 'ship-maintenance procedures', part of a doctrine that Aegon had obsessively ensured were followed to the letter of the law – yes, Aegon had naval procedures enshrined into law – and so they had to talk about the last minute checks that were carried out.
By the time they were done talking with the captains, several hours had passed and Aegon and Gael walked back towards their ship where they'd stayed for the few days.
"Now that we're so close to finally seeing Elamaerys with our own eyes, tasting its air with our own mouths and noses…do you think it strange that I consider it almost bittersweet?" Aegon said to her quietly as they walked along the docks of the harbour back to their ship.
"No." Gael said with a soft smile before she peered towards Corinth. "We spent much of our lives, mayhaps the best part of our lives" she said with soft smile as she looked back at Aegon and took hold of his hand. "here. Our family grew here, and our people grew more populous, bringing us good and leal men like Ser Maroquo" Gael said as she looked to the steadfast guard that was walking behind them.
One of the many former slaves that had been brought into their personal guardsmen and who they entrusted the safety of their family.
Ser Maroquo bowed his head to her and she could see him walk a little more assured behind them, something she smiled warmly at.
"Corinth will remain an important part of our history, even centuries from now." She finished. She would not be surprised if there were many places, with time, that were named after Corinth and the streets and areas within Corinth.
Aegon smiled at her as he nodded. "Mayhaps after I return here, I may find purchase with Prince Jalla to ensure that Corinth at least keeps its name."
The news of their departure had already spread to the rest of the Isle, and likely well beyond it too. For Prince Jalla, it was very good news.
She remembered what Aegon had told her about the meeting he had with Prince Jalla, and the one only a year ago, and she knew that their departure would be seen as a very good sign that they were keeping their promise.
They continued to lightly talk and before long, they were at the ship and they were greeted on the deck with the presence of Aethan Celtigar.
"My Prince, my Princess." Aethan said with a bow of the head.
Despite living with them nigh on a year, he still called them my Prince and my Princess, even when they'd given him leave to call them by their first names when in situations such as this.
He was much like Bartimos in that regard.
"Have the girls settled in?" Gael asked warmly. Both Vaera and Valeana, the latter being Bartimos' daughter, were not creatures of the sea at all.
Much to Aethan and his wife's embarrassment, their complaints about not wanting to be on a ship were heard loudly and widely. Though Valeana was older than Vaera, Aethan's daughter, Valaena being almost nine namedays old, Bartimos' and his wife's leaving two moons ago had made her act up far more than before.
"They have, my Princess. Rhaena and your sons are helpfully distracting them." Aethan said with some tiredness in his voice.
"Good." Aegon said and they spoke briefly before they said their goodbyes and made way for their deck where her and her children's rooms were.
They spoke with their children and the Celtigars briefly before it was time for them to turn in for the night and after she and Aegon were left on their lonesome, they ate lightly before they turned in for the night.
Morning came quickly and within five hours, two and forty galleons set sail…
Following the beckoning call of their new homeland.
Elamaerys.
