Save the Dragons
Thanks for the lovely feedback for the last chapter, hope you guys and girls enjoy this one, and let me know what you think of it.
Chapter 4 – You May Say I'm a Dreamer
Rhaenyra
"Straighten your back," Laenor told her as he slid a hand up her backside, in defiance of propriety. But ever since their betrothal they'd been nearly inseparable and couldn't keep their hands off each other.
"Raise your elbow, and pull the string back to your chin."
He was teaching her to use a bow, at her request. She hated feeling vulnerable when Vermithor was far from her, she wanted to know how to defend herself. Laenor suggested the bow would be good exercise.
"Don't try to hold it, gently relax your fingers and let the release surprise you."
She shot the arrow, hitting the target board. She cried out in glee and hugged Laenor.
"Nice shot," he congratulated.
"I had a good teacher," she giggled.
"I had a good pupil."
He pulled his dirk from its sheath and with its hilt began pressing it against spots on her body as he called them out "Brain, neck, spine, lungs, heart, liver, kidneys, femoral artery."
Laenor handed her the dirk, and she twirled it in her hand, "You stick a man in one of those spots and he'll die all the same. You know which ones will be quickest."
They both turned their heads to the sky when a mighty roar took them out of their lesson. In the sky, soaring above them were three dragons, which could only be Caraxes, Meleys, and Vhagar. Her uncle had come back to the realm.
"Mother and Laena must have come back with Daemon. He's come to surrender his crown to your Father."
Father had not been amused when word had come to court that the Sea Snake had crowned Daemon. It was a challenge to his authority.
But now Laenor said he meant to give up his crown?
"How do you know? Did your father tell you?" she asked, a rare occurrence since she usually took her Velaryon at his word.
"I saw it in a dream..." Laenor told her ominously and she asked no more about it, he'd confessed to her some time ago that he had Dragon dreams, the gift of prophecy. Rhaenyra envied and pitied him for that. He'd told her that he knew they would be wed, so he'd pursued her love so frantically.
She loved him all the more for it. They were fated lovers after all.
"Come then, that's enough lessons for the day, I wish to see Uncle Daemon grovel."
All of the court had gathered in the Red Keep for Daemon's return, crowding around each other beneath the Iron Throne.
She and Laenor took places close to the bottom of the throne and waited with bated breath.
Rhaenyra had learned to dislike Daemon in recent years, losing the rose-coloured vision she'd had of her uncle before he'd left court. Laenor had told her of how he'd called her late brother Baelon 'the heir for a day' during a night of drunken revelry the day her mother had died and that is why she was named heir in Daemon's place. It had soured her opinion of the man. Laenor's near-constant besmirching of the man when his name was brought up didn't help his image in her mind either.
Her uncle appeared axe in hand, marching into the throne room, a crown of bones atop his head. Flanked by Princess Rhaenys and Lady Laena, both clad in crimson-scaled armour that looked fearsome and beautiful. Father stood before the throne, Blackfyre, the Conqueror's sword in hand.
As Daemon approached, the Kingsguard drew steel at the man who presumed to approach the king in his own hall with live steel. Daemon always was presumptuous.
He walked right into a sword point with the tip pressing against his breastplate.
"Add it to the chair," he quipped and the axe dropped with a clang to the floor, so the Lord Commander sheathed his sword and picked it up.
Rhaenyra could not help but smile, even as the crowd murmured.
"You wear a crown," Father observed. "Do you also call yourself 'king'?"
"Once we smashed the Triarchy, they named me King of the Stepstones and the Narrow Sea," answered Daemon, nonchalantly. "But I know there is only one true king, Your Grace."
Daemon bowed before her father and removed his crown, "My crown and the Stepstones, are yours."
Father smiled. "Well, where is Lord Corlys?"
Princess Rhaenys answered "My husband is sailing to the capital as we speak, Your Grace. We arrived here first as we flew ahead." She finished with a smile.
"Who holds the Stepstones?"
"The tides, the crabs, and two thousand dead Triarchy corsairs staked to the sand to warn those who might follow."
Father stepped forward, Blackfyre being used like a cane, dinging the floor with each step.
He took the crown from Daemon, examined it, and passed it to Ser Westerling.
"Rise," he commanded her uncle.
Daemon obeyed, and Father drew him into an embrace.
As the court applauded, Laenor whispered into her ear, "The Former Heir is putting on quite the show."
Rhaenyra giggled, watching the Hand of the King scowl at her uncle.
The king ushered Daemon out of the throne room to the banquet.
Laena rushed to Laenor's side and threw her arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a crushing hug.
Princess Rhaenys was soon at their side and hugged her son as well.
Laena then grabbed her by the hand with a flashing smile, "We heard the news and came straight away! Marriage, how fantastic!"
Rhaenyra blushed.
"Yes, we were quite pleased to hear of your betrothal, my son," Rhaenys told Laenor, "your father is most proud."
"We meant to ask for your blessing, Princess-" Rhaenyra began before being waved off by the older princess.
"No need, Your Grace, Laenor, and yourself have had our blessing for years now, ever since our little boy was chasing after you with hearts in his eyes."
"Mother," Laenor groaned.
"I'm so excited, I cannot wait for the wedding," Laena gushed, "We will have to go riding later to celebrate when Vhagar is rested."
"There's no rush," Rhaenyra said with a tight smile. Laena likely meant with the riding, but Rhaenyra meant the wedding. In truth, she could wait to marry Laenor. Even though her Velaryon was the man she wanted to marry, she was not ready to face the birthing bed. To fight the battle her mother perished in.
Rhaenys gave her a sympathetic look, "There will be time for such things yet. For now, let us accompany the king to this feast of his."
Rhaenyra was glad for it, and they took their leave.
When they arrived at the party, they caught Father joking with his queen that Daemon had always been their mother's favourite.
"And I, sadly, was no great warrior."
"Beloved niece," greeted Daemon warmly.
"Uncle," Rhaenyra returned coolly.
Father gave her an exasperated look. He was angry with her. The betrothal was taking longer than he'd expected. Perhaps he expected she was using the pretext to not marry at all. He took a hefty swig of wine.
"Ser Laenor," Daemon turned to her betrothed. "A pity you could not have joined your mother and your sister with us in the Stepstones. It seems your chance for glory has vanished."
There was scorn in her uncle's voice, a lesser man would have been afraid.
Laenor wasn't afraid of anyone.
"I had more important pursuits than glory to follow," he smiled and took her hand, "a pity your lady wife is not here to share in your glory."
If looks could kill, Daemon would have obliterated Laenor there and then.
"That's hardly a pity, my bronze bitch and I enjoy the distance we share."
"Daemon..." coughed Father.
An awkward silence emerged.
"Perhaps Prince Daemon would care for a tour of the gallery?" asked Alicent, obviously trying to diffuse the tension in the air. "He hasn't yet seen the new tapestries given to you by Norvos and Qohor."
"Oh, oh, would you like to see the tapestries?" Father snorted. "He has no interest in such things."
"I'd like to see them," Rhaenyra told them, clutching Laenor's hand.
"Myself as well," her betrothed added.
"Oh, well, then you should not deprive yourselves," Father said with no little bit of snark.
"We shall enjoy them alone," Rhaenyra said as she walked away.
Laenor bid goodbye to his mother and sister, as the king called for more wine.
"What is this supposed to be?" she asked about the tapestry hanging on the wall of the gallery. A battle of some kind, half-naked men riding horses into a wall of spears.
The work was exquisite, indicative of the quality of Qohorik and Norvosi works, but she had no idea what it was representing.
"I believe it's meant to depict the Three Thousand of Qohor."
"The Three Thousand of Qohor?"
"Yes, once a great Dothraki khalasar of twenty-five thousand screamers was attacking the Free City, and they bought a force of three thousand Unsullied, eunuch soldiers to defend them. So-"
Seeing Rhaenyra was dozing off he stopped his explanation, "Rhaenyra." he called out, nudging her.
"Yes?"
"You were far away."
She blushed in embarrassment, "I am sorry, Laenor. Please go on. You were saying about the Dothraki?"
"What's the matter?"
"Nothing, nothing."
"Rhaenyra..."
Why did her Velaryon have to be so understanding all the time?
"It's my father, he's angry at me."
Laenor nodded his head in understanding, "He thinks we should be wed by now."
She gave a nod of her own.
Her Velaryon took her by her hands and stared into her eyes with his, those beautiful violet orbs.
"I told you we would wait until you were ready, and I meant it."
Rhaenyra let out a sob she hadn't known she'd been holding back and collapsed into Laenor's waiting arms.
"I don't want to die..." Not like my mother did, was the unspoken part, but Laenor took her meaning.
"I know you're scared, my love, I would be too in your place," Laenor consoled her. "But I promise you, you will not die in childbirth."
"You can't know that."
"I do know that."
Laenor held her close and whispered into her ear, "I will not allow you to die."
She pulled back, "You can't know that for certain. My father is a king and even he was powerless to save my mother!"
"Your father didn't know anything about medicine or magic. I do. I will be with you when our children are born. I mean to deliver them into the world. Laena's too."
Her Velaryon assured her that there were ways to ensure she lived through the process.
"How can you be so sure?"
Laenor looked around and said, "Gods know who might be listening here."
He picked her up with ease as she yelped, and he began walking to Maegor's Holdfast, she just leaned her head into his chest.
When they were back in her rooms, he laid her on her bed and began to twirl her hair in his fingers.
"We will need to be married sooner rather than later, Rhaenyra. If you do not bear children soon, the lords of the realm will believe you to be barren and you will be passed over for a certainty," Laenor explained bluntly.
Rhaenyra scoffed, "The lords of the Seven Kingdoms swore oaths to honour Father's wish and protect my claim."
This time it was Laenor who scoffed, "These same lords are likely to forget their oaths, or die before your Father does."
"I'm not ready to be a mother, Laenor."
"I know you feel that way, but it's not about what we want, it's about what we need to do. The Game of Thrones isn't a child's pastime, Rhaenyra, it's life or death. If you want to be queen, you will need heirs to bolster your claim. Sons. War is coming, we will need our children to be as old as possible or they might not survive it."
"Why are you so sure there will be war?"
Laenor looked deeply into her eyes, "I have seen the war in my dreams, Rhaenyra. I have seen your brother be crowned in the Dragonpit before the masses with Aegon's ruby crown. I have seen towns burn and battlefields littered with corpses. I have seen our children be killed and watched the dragons die. I have seen Sunfyre devour you. I saw our orphaned son left on the throne, only a boy, alone in the world and his dragon dead."
Rhaenyra's stomach was churning and she felt like she needed to throw up. She wanted to just curl up into a ball and make the world go away. She wanted to take Laenor and fly away to the ends of the earth. She wanted her brother's head on a spike.
All she could do was hold Laenor tighter.
"We cannot wait forever, Rhaenyra, I told you we would wait until you were ready, and I meant it. But you must ready yourself or else we risk another Doom."
"I have even seen the Song of Ice of Fire."
"How do you know about that?!" she demanded, she had never told anyone what her father had told her in secret.
"I told you, Rhaenyra, I have seen it in my dreams. The same way I knew Daemon had come to relinquish his crown. I know an army of the dead marching on the realms of men to usher in a winter without end is coming. I know your father told you about Aegon's dream. I have seen that in my dreams as well."
"What can we do if you have foreseen the future?"
"I do not believe the future is writ in stone. I have already changed it. You and I were not meant to ride Silverwing and Vermithor yet we do. I foresaw you being... unhappy in our marriage, so I have sought your love."
Rhaenyra could not imagine being unhappy with Laenor or riding any other dragon than Vermithor, her Bronze Fury. Yet she had only dared mount Vermithor because she had wanted a greater mount than her then estranged cousin.
"I should just renounce the throne, we should just flee from this place. Fly away together where they cannot get us."
Laenor just looked at her sadly, "We cannot leave the realm to be destroyed, and your enemies will not suffer you to exist while your claim rivals Aegon's."
Rhaenyra felt so lost.
"What can we do?"
"We have to win."
"Is this really a good idea?" Rhaenyra asked, wrapped in a drab cloak. They were in Laenor's rooms now.
"You need to see what this city is really like, what your subjects really think of you," Laenor explained as she watched him change into tattered rags, "It might give you the perspective you need to carry on. To see that I'm right, that it's not all in my head and I'm not mad."
Laenor stepped forward with a beautiful ruby choker, "I thought we were wearing a disguise?" she asked.
He wrapped it around her neck snugly, "This is the disguise."
When Laenor stepped in front of her again, he wasn't Laenor.
Rhaenyra cried out, before her stood an older man with a scraggly silver beard, handsome but long since past his youth yet he looked remarkably familiar and wearing identical rags to what Laenor had been.
"Peace, my love," came the voice of her Velaryon from the stranger's mouth, "It's me. This is just another magic trick. This is called a glamour," he pointed to the ruby ring on his finger.
"What?" she asked, perplexed, looking around the room for Laenor.
"Here," he said passing her a silvered mirror, "see for yourself."
Rhaenyra took the mirror, and nearly dropped it when the face in it wasn't hers.
Except it was. She recognized her features, her father's nose, and her mother's lips. But older. Much older. She had wrinkles now, and weathered skin.
"You made me an old woman!" she shouted.
"I made you look like you'll look when you're older, just temporarily. It's the choker. A spell I cast on the ruby. You'll change back once you take it off."
She clutched the choker, disturbed, "Is this really necessary?"
"I want to make certain we aren't recognized, that way you'll see the city from an unvarnished perspective."
Laenor made his way to his wardrobe, and moved it out of the way, he pushed on the wall and shockingly, it gave way as a secret door.
"Come," he beckoned and she ran after him.
Laenor lit his hand on fire and used it as a torch. He continued to amaze her.
They navigated the tunnels beneath the Red Keep, following a line of coloured thread.
"Where are we?"
"We're in the bowels of Maegor's castle, they lead everywhere through the Red Keep except Maegor's Holdfast. The Cruel King didn't want rats in his own house. Except he died before he could show the secrets. I found a room with a tunnel and I used thread to mark the passages, but even I haven't found all of them."
"You're a genius, you know that."
"Just lucky."
They came to the end of the tunnel, exited out onto the beach, and re-entered the city through the Mud Gate.
The two of them were wandering the streets.
Rhaenyra passed by a magician lighting his hands afire like Laenor had done, travelling minstrels, a trapeze artist walking along his line, men brawling outside a tavern, a couple rutting in an alleyway...
"Do you wish to know your death?" asked a blind crone as they passed by.
"No, thanks," she said. I already do apparently. Though she had resolved to change her fate. She would kill Aegon first before she let his dragon devour her.
They came across a play being performed in the streets.
"And now we come to the matter of the great Iron Chair and whose bum it might bear," rhymed a player.
Rhaenyra and Laenor settled into the crowd, "This is what I wanted you to see."
"Our good king names his daughter, a girl, his heir."
The crowd jeered, booing the statement, to Rhaenyra's shock.
"But then to him, a babe is born."
The players pulled a doll out of his skirts, "A son!" and the crowd cheered.
"To which heir might the chair bear? Who will it be? The brother? The daughter? Or the little princeling of three?"
A Targaryen knight with a dragon helm was weeping as a man dressed as a woman sat on the iron chair.
"Rhaenyra, the Realm's Delight, a girl so young and so slight, loved by all her people, but would she make a powerful queen, or would she be feeble?"
"Feeble!" cried the crowd.
"Aegon, the babe prince, might long for a claim, he has two things Rhaenyra cannot: a conqueror's name... and a cock."
"Lies, slander!" Rhaenyra booed.
"Joke if you want, but this is what the smallfolk think of their princess."
Rhaenyra meant to say that it was of no consequence what they believed, but Laenor's warning she had taken to heart, so she could only nod.
Still, she was done with the play and took her leave.
She wanted to be free from the weight of her inheritance and enjoy a night on the town, but there was no time for that...
"Where else do you want me to go?" she asked, and Laenor grasped her by the arm and led her away.
They came to a Flea Bottom orphanage and found it in squalor. Naked children with no noses, children missing limbs, begging on the street outside it. They looked like they hadn't eaten in months with their emaciated bodies and swollen bellies.
One of the men nearby was sitting on his stoop, drunk as a fish, eating a rat on a skewer.
Whores prowled the street with missing teeth, stumbling over each other at the sight of any man who might have some coin.
"Is the condition of my city's poor?"
"This is Flea Bottom for a reason."
The slum reeked of shit and sweat. She wanted to leave immediately, but this was to be her city one day.
"What can we do about this?"
"This can be solved with coin and jobs, if you were to help with both, this pigsty could be transformed into someplace worth living."
As they made their way down an alleyway, Rhaenyra noticed they were being followed by shadowy figures dressed in black.
"Shh," shushed Laenor as he took her close and led her away quickly.
Men leapt out in front of them at the alley's end and soon they were surrounded.
A bald man with pox marks on his face produced a knife.
"I'll be having that choker of yours, milady, or your life."
Laenor drew his sword, and the men laughed.
"There's five of us and one of you."
Rhaenyra was shaking, but she drew the dirk from Laenor's belt "Two of us!" she shouted.
This only evoked another laugh from the men.
"I'll give you one chance to walk away," Laenor said coldly.
"Fat chance, Lysene sot, give us the choker and we'll let you live," commanded the thug.
Laenor sheathed his sword, but drew a jar from his robes, a sickly green liquid inside, and pulled the cap off the jar.
Four of the thugs laughed again, but the bald one went pale, "You're mad."
Rhaenyra understood. Wildfire.
"No - I'm a dragon."
The next bit went all in a blur.
Laenor swallowed the liquid and instead of dying a fiery death, pushed her head down, and began spitting it out at their muggers.
The alleyway was engulfed in a sickening bright light, the flames roared in a swirl of burning green.
There was screaming and then they were running.
Finally, when they could no longer hear the screaming, they made their way back to the Red Keep.
Back in Laenor's rooms, she leaped on him and kissed him on the lips.
"I thought we were going to die, or worse."
"I'd never let anything like that happen to you."
She kissed him again, and he kissed back.
Soon, they were tumbling onto his bed, exploring each other's bodies. His lips tasted like sulphur, but she was too enraptured to care. His fake beard felt like wisps of air.
Eventually, as she tried to tear his trousers off, Laenor returned to sanity.
"No, not yet," he said, pulling away from her.
"What's wrong?" she asked petulantly.
"Not tonight, we can't risk going any further or else..."
Damn her innocence, she pulled him into another kiss.
He broke off again, "Rhaenyra... you're like to get me killed. You shouldn't have even kissed me."
"I just want one night."
"We'll have many and more nights like this, hopefully without the fire and brimstone."
He stood from his bed and took off his ring, returning to the gorgeous young man he was and making her heart skip another beat.
Begrudgingly, she stood up as well and made for the door.
"Rhaenyra!" Laenor called out. "The choker."
Nearly forgetting, she took it off and handed it to them. Their fingers brushed together. She wrapped her arms around him.
"I don't want to be alone tonight," she choked out.
Laenor nodded, "We'll go to sleep underneath the heart tree." He grabbed his harp.
They made their way to the Godswood, empty now this time of night, and sat together beneath the mighty oak tree.
"Sing for me," she commanded.
"What would you like?"
"Something beautiful."
Laenor began to sing, a song she had never heard him sing before.
"Tonight the rain is falling, full of memories of people and places."
Today had been a trying day. Tomorrow she would start flying Vermithor with a purpose, tomorrow she would have Maester Mellos begin her lessons with a renewed earnestness.
"And while the past is calling, in my fantasy I remember their faces."
Tomorrow she would enjoy the world to the fullest while she still had time left. Tomorrow she would tell her father that she meant to wed Laenor as soon as was practical.
"The hopes we had were much too high, way of reach but we have to try."
Tomorrow was the first day of her new life. Of their lives.
"The game will never be over, because we're keeping the dream alive..."
Rhaenyra closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep in Laenor's lap.
Laenor
"Acolytes and Wisdoms," Laenor began his speech.
Today was the day he revealed his latest inventions to the Guild of Alchemists, perhaps the most important to the future of the Seven Kingdoms.
"I have the honour of introducing to you a new device that will change the very nature of scholarly work in our world. A device that will save scribes countless hours and allow literature to be produced on a previously unimaginable scale. A device that will allow even the poorest children the chance to read books. To inform the smallfolk everywhere for a pittance. A device that will allow the marketplace of ideas to thrive beyond your wildest dreams."
He gave the signal and an acolyte pulled back the curtain and unveiled his new device.
A murmur came over the small crowd.
"This device utilizes rows of types, cuboidal blocks, each embossed on the top face with a letter or punctuation – arranged within a rectangular frame. The types are then inked and then pressed onto a sheet of paper, the production of which I have some novel ideas on making much easier, using a modified wine press. Once the frame has been typeset, the same page can be replicated again and again, with extraordinary speed. Like so."
He demonstrated with a press of the machine and showed a finished article, the first page of the Seven-Pointed Star.
"When completed, all that needs to be done is to rearrange the letters on another typeset for another page of text. My fellow Wisdoms," he'd been made a Wisdom of the Guild upon learning how to create the substance, "what had once taken a dedicated team of scribes arduously copying by hand for weeks can now be done in a matter of hours by one man and this device."
He presented a finished copy of the Seven-Pointed Star, his version of the Gutenberg Bible, to his audience and they began to applaud and guffaw.
"I plan to use this device to mass produce books and leaflets for the realm entire. A copy of the Seven-Pointed Star will be placed in every inn and sept in the realm. A periodical newsletter to be handed out to the public, containing information for merchants, the results of tourneys and melees, royal announcements and proclamations, etcetera... for a small fee."
"Any questions?"
He answered some questions about the design of the machine, like how the types were copper indented with a hard steel punch and how the mold was created in mirror-image halves with two L-shaped parts so that the letters print uniformly on a page.
"What's its name?"
"I call it a 'printing press.'" Laenor answered proudly.
Laenor then produced in his hand two pieces of ovalar glass held together by metal wire.
"With these 'reading glasses', lenses made of various thicknesses made in Spicetown, we will be able to cure reader's eye, along with far and nearsightedness. Extending the length of time scholars and readers can enjoy reading and writing for decades. Allowing people to see clearly for the first time."
There was another round of great applause, and clamouring to see through the spectacles.
When Laenor was finishing his presentation, a dozen Gold Cloaks entered the Guild Hall, led by Luthor Largent.
"May I help you, friends?" he asked, unsuspectingly.
"You are under arrest, by order of the King's Hand, My Lord," Ser Largent told him.
The crowd burst into a fit of angry murmurs.
Laenor was aghast. "On what charge?"
"For allegedly performing bloodmagic."
'Shit'.
You guys are my reason for writing, my inspiration. My muse. So please leave a review. If you have any questions or ideas, please share, I try to answer them all whenever I get the chance, so check your Inbox eventually and I'll be sure to get back to you.
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F.Y.I: This is a shorter version of a longer chapter, once it got to 4k words, I decided it'd make for a nice cliffhanger. Next chapter will be Laenor's trial, should be very interesting.
I got sidetracked writing this chapter and started writing chapters (as of now) 8,9 & 10. So when those come along, they should mostly finish themselves. One chapter is action-packed, one is coolly political and one is spectacular fluff.
I'm glad most of you guys don't consider Laenor to be a Mary Sue and that most of you liked my glass candle idea, I appreciate the feedback immensely.
