The Little Cub (Game of Thrones AAR)
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Like EtzelHoveri already confirmed, it is indeed possible. The martial ones are the only education traits that can improve in time.
Noticed that, but in my oppinion Stats only diddn't tell everything about someone.She's ambitious and ruthless but too craven to do thing on her own. And nobody knows what happen to her, cause of the fact she fu..s the past and maybe future king?!
I suppose. Being in love with Arry is a feat itself.
haha! I had the remaking of Tommen's VSS planned for a long time, and I'm glad to hear what I came up with pleased the readers. I invented the name only a short while before writing the actual update, and it surprised me how fitting it actually was. By the way the coat or the picture, whatever you want to call it, was personally made.
The old deeds have not been forgotten. Honestly I do not know what happened to Barristan's dragon. When I was notified that Ser Barristan had fallen into a coma, I saw that he no longer had the dragon trait but posessed an egg. I'd played to the point where Barristan died even before I wrote the chapter where Tommen met his end. So, knowing that Rhaegal's untimely death was coming up, I tried to make up an explanation by having him being wounded by Drogon.
Thank you, Andre!
Thank you! I have not forgotten who gave me the award for the first time, you know.
Glad to see people are interested in that too. After reading so many comments about the readers wondering which will be the next conflict, I tried to cut to the chase by speeding things up a little.
Ever the optimist, eh?Well, at least you didn't die.
With the traits he has, Arry is pretty much invincible. Yeah, that would've been awesome. I'm a bit sad that I started this AAR only a little while before the huge dragon update came out. Some stuff would've been so much more interesting to write, and I wouldn't have had to make up things by myself.
CK2 and wars.. meh. Some things just don't fit in together. I just play and write things down, no matter how stupid moves the AI does.Lovely update leaving me wanting more
I like how you explained the AI's stupid move as a "trap" the enemy lured them into.
No, he has not. I'm just trying to highlight his cynicism towards all religions since he has the trait.
Yeah, things didn't exactly go our way.. At least I got an upgrade to the main trait.
The Little Cub
Part 38 - The Rogue Prince
--
The war over Seagard was not over to Lord Ryan, but my part in the fighting was done. Two thousand men from Dragonstone had died in the Riverlands, and everywhere I went I could sense that I was blamed for their demise. Fifteen thousand citizens of Dragonstone and Driftmark, both men and women, had died in the rebellion against King Edric a few years ago. I'd taken with me to war what few men still remained and caused even more sorrow to my folk. I was not proud of my actions, but men would've died even if the war had been won. There was no going around that fact.
Clayton, Gaston and Ser Guyard had survived the campaign as well, and returned to Dragonstone with me. I would've taken my cousin Ser Horas Flowers with us as well, but I had needed someone to stay in Dragonstone and train the people. Since he was my master-at-arms, the task had fallen to him. He sat in my council and I considered him both a good friend and advisor of mine. That is why it surprised me when he said after my return that perhaps it would've been the best if I hadn't left in the first place. I know he didn't mean to insult me, but the comment hurt nevertheless because I knew there was truth in it. I knew he wasn't the only one who thought the same way, and only spoke with a voice of those thousands of people who'd lost their loved ones.
As time went by, King Tommen was spoken about highly and I couldn't help but to try become as great man as he'd been. My father's first war had been in the Riverlands as well, but with far better success. Being aware of that, I felt disappointed with myself for not being worthy enough to continue in his footsteps. I was frustrated and angry, and no longer bothered to hide my feelings whenever something didn't go my way.
King Edric hadn't bothered himself with the war, and that gave me one reason more to hate him. He'd stripped me from all my de-jure vassals as the Lord of Dragonstone after usurping the Iron Throne, but after my coming of age he'd returned some of them. Now he took another step forward and granted me Driftmark, one of the two islands at the mouth of Blackwater Bay. My uncle no doubt expected to earn my loyalty for a few more years with the action, but I was not so easily bought. Driftmark was held by the Velaryons, and the Pirate King Aurane Waters was a bastard from that family. Even the fact that his kin had been allowed to live like nothing had happened despite Aurane's betrayal was a mockery, and I'd planned to take action long ago. Even if I could not declare a war on King Aurane, I could hurt him by wounding his family's name and pride.
I'd fabricated a claim on Driftmark which now gave me a valid reason to revoke Driftmark from the boy lord it was currently ruled by. Balman Velaryon had no other option but to give up his lands, and by becoming the Lord of Driftmark I gained even tighter control over the High Lordship of Dragonstone. The minor vassals in Driftmark now answered to me, and I no longer needed to depend on whether Balman liked me or not to raise soldiers from Driftmark.
My relationship with Lyra hadn't been the same after I returned. She had given birth to a child, my son, who I'd publicly acknowledged. We both were under great pressure, having openly admitted our affair after Durran's birth, and things simply couldn't go back to what they once were. The heat of the moment was gone, replaced by cold reality and a burden of being a father. Lyra and myself both had changed, and the time spent apart had been long enough for us to grow apart. It could've been simple to end our affair, but she was also pregnant once again. I'd put another child inside of her not long after Durran's birth.
It was around that time when I received a word from Dorne. My father's sister, Princess Myrcella Baratheon had been widowed. A fever had taken her husband, Trystan Martell, uncle of Princess Emberlei of Dorne. I sent my condolences to Sunspear with an invitation, writing that there'd always be a place at my court for my kin. With her husband gone, nothing bound her to Dorne any more, and so my aunt sent a word to me that she accepted the offer. The letter said that my cousin Allyria Martell would also come.
Life was not as peaceful as I had hoped. Disgruntled peasants had risen up into a revolt in the Whispers. King Edric sent a word from the capital that my presence was needed, and so I departed from Dragonstone once more. I did not have a choice; although taking orders from my uncle was as distasteful, defying him openly was not an option. My hatred for him had not faded, and the thought of some day taking vengeance upon was still in my mind. For some reason I hesitated, though, as if waiting for a sign on what to do. The Riverlands would no doubt join my cause, but I was not sure about the rest of Westeros. Lord Melwyn Lannister owed quite a bit to my father, as did Lord Rickon Stark. My sister was married to Lord Harrold Arryn's second son, but was that a strong foundation for an alliance to depose a king? I doubted that. And so I waited.
The uprising was easily dealt with, even if it took a few months. When I finally returned to Dragonstone, Lyra had given birth to yet another son. We decided to name him Aemon after the legendary Dragonknight who'd been a second son as well. I acknowledged the child as my own, but didn't go so far as to legitimise him. I was still betrothed to Princess Malora Baratheon, King Edric's daughter. Putting my natural born sons higher in the line of succession than the possible children me and Malora might have would've been a great insult, and already dishonoring our betrothal by siring bastards had caused more than enough disdain.
A word from King's Landing arrived some weeks later. Despite my past affair with Lady Lyra Baelish, King Edric was still interested in marrying his eldest child to me. I'd been too young to comprehend the full meaning of the betrothal when it had been made between me and my cousin Malora, but I knew better than to dishonor King Edric or her by breaking it. It tied me to the crown more tightly; not only was I a relative of the king, but now also his son-in-law. I had not forgotten the past and every day brought me closer to vengeance; marrying Malora was not an obstacle, but a means to an end. She was the eldest child of King Edric, even if his younger brother Jerion was the heir. If I could not gather enough of support for my claim, I could put Malora on the Iron Throne by taking out his brother. The possibilities were many, and I hadn't decided yet which road I'd take.
The name Dragonstone describes surprisingly well the island itself and the fortress on it. It's an imposing sight for a seafarer; a crude but magnificent fortress, standing amidst the waters of the Narrow Sea. Though ruling the place is considered a great honor, Dragonstone is but a cold and lonely island. I made sure it wasn't so for the wedding. Fires burned everywhere and it seemed as if the stone dragon of the palace had become alive. I myself had tended to Aegon's Garden, and returned it back to its former state. Ripping out the weeds was a long task and took several days, but the work was rewarding and I came to understand how much easier things are if done systematicly.
It'd been three years since I'd seen Malora the last time. We'd both grown up in the Red Keep and I counted her as one of my childhood friends. I'd always been a talkative person and gaining friends had been easy for me, so it was natural that I'd gotten to know with the other children at the court. Though Malora was a shy and quiet person, she was cynical at heart just like me. She was a pretty little princess who worked hard to get what she wanted, and she wanted it all. Now that she arrived to Dragonstone, escorted by his father who'd left the capital to attend the wedding, the person in front of me was no longer a little girl but a young woman. I was told that she'd received martial training under Lord Commander Balon's guidance. I told the spymaster of mine, Rhialta, that she'd be taking the princess under her wing from now on.
Dragonbane himself had come as well. His work bound him to be where the King was, and I was glad to see my former guardian after three years. He was curious to hear my part of the fighting in the Riverlands, for a good reason: he'd been the one who'd trained me to fight after all. After the annihilation of the Riverlander army, Ryan Tully had ordered his armies disbanded. His flag flew over Seagard, the target of his war, and the Ironborn hadn't been able to retake it. Winning the battles hadn't brought the Last Kraken a victory, and so the war raged on - even if only in name.
Neither I nor Malora were religious, but traditions needed to be respected and so we spoke the words in front of a septon and he blessed us with holy oil. After that I draped her into a cloak bearing the sigil of the House Baratheon - which ironically was the same as his father's - officially taking her into my protection. After that a feast followed. I was courteous enough to sit next to my wife and exchange words with her for a moment, but many of my old acquaintances had come to the wedding, both near and from afar, and I tried to catch up with what had happened to them. Ser Guyard Buckler, my bodyguard with a white cloak, was as eager; he'd not seen his fellow comrades for as many years as I. Knowing that he had a lot to talk, I released him from his duties for the night.
Clayton was celebrating like no tomorrow. He was in his cups and expressed openly how he was genuinely happy for me. My spymaster Rhialta took his condition as a topic and suggested that she'd take him elsewhere so he wouldn't embarass himself any further. From the way she looked at Clayton, I could see she had something else in her mind too. I encouraged Clayton to go with her, and watched grinning as escorted him away to a more private location. That is when my eyes met Lady Roslin's.
Sometimes I hope that all the wine I drank had erased the memory of what happened next. It was certainly not one of my proudest moments, although Roslin Frey was certainly one of the most beautiful women I'd ever met. Even in late-fourties she was as stunning as ever, and I happened to be a young man with a lustful character. I ran away with Roslin, first slipping away with her and when finally in a quiet place, inside of her.
When the deed was done, the realization of what I'd done caught up with me. Despite the fact that this was to be my own wedding night, I'd been with Lady Roslin instead. I'd already spoken the words, and now I'd betrayed my wife even before consummating our marriage. Without forgetting her father, King Edric, who no doubt would soon notice that I'd gone missing. By bedding Lady Roslin, I'd also put my alliance with Ryan Tully in danger. I didn't even want to guess what my my brother-in-law would do if he got to know that I'd plowed his mother behind his father's back. She only looked at me with a smug grin on her face, and I had a feeling she knew something I didn't.
Knowing that my disappearance would be soon noticed if not already, I told her to get dressed. I sent her out of the room first, knowing it'd be the best if we didn't return to the feast at the same time. A moment after she'd gone, I exited the room. I looked around and sighed of relief when I did not see anyone. After I took the first steps, I heard a voice said; ''My lord.'' I suddenly stopped and turned around, noticing a hooded man step out of the shadows. My first thought was a fear that this stranger might've realized what I'd done. As it happens, he confronted me for another reason entirely.
Part 38 - The Rogue Prince
--
The war over Seagard was not over to Lord Ryan, but my part in the fighting was done. Two thousand men from Dragonstone had died in the Riverlands, and everywhere I went I could sense that I was blamed for their demise. Fifteen thousand citizens of Dragonstone and Driftmark, both men and women, had died in the rebellion against King Edric a few years ago. I'd taken with me to war what few men still remained and caused even more sorrow to my folk. I was not proud of my actions, but men would've died even if the war had been won. There was no going around that fact.
Clayton, Gaston and Ser Guyard had survived the campaign as well, and returned to Dragonstone with me. I would've taken my cousin Ser Horas Flowers with us as well, but I had needed someone to stay in Dragonstone and train the people. Since he was my master-at-arms, the task had fallen to him. He sat in my council and I considered him both a good friend and advisor of mine. That is why it surprised me when he said after my return that perhaps it would've been the best if I hadn't left in the first place. I know he didn't mean to insult me, but the comment hurt nevertheless because I knew there was truth in it. I knew he wasn't the only one who thought the same way, and only spoke with a voice of those thousands of people who'd lost their loved ones.
As time went by, King Tommen was spoken about highly and I couldn't help but to try become as great man as he'd been. My father's first war had been in the Riverlands as well, but with far better success. Being aware of that, I felt disappointed with myself for not being worthy enough to continue in his footsteps. I was frustrated and angry, and no longer bothered to hide my feelings whenever something didn't go my way.
King Edric hadn't bothered himself with the war, and that gave me one reason more to hate him. He'd stripped me from all my de-jure vassals as the Lord of Dragonstone after usurping the Iron Throne, but after my coming of age he'd returned some of them. Now he took another step forward and granted me Driftmark, one of the two islands at the mouth of Blackwater Bay. My uncle no doubt expected to earn my loyalty for a few more years with the action, but I was not so easily bought. Driftmark was held by the Velaryons, and the Pirate King Aurane Waters was a bastard from that family. Even the fact that his kin had been allowed to live like nothing had happened despite Aurane's betrayal was a mockery, and I'd planned to take action long ago. Even if I could not declare a war on King Aurane, I could hurt him by wounding his family's name and pride.
I'd fabricated a claim on Driftmark which now gave me a valid reason to revoke Driftmark from the boy lord it was currently ruled by. Balman Velaryon had no other option but to give up his lands, and by becoming the Lord of Driftmark I gained even tighter control over the High Lordship of Dragonstone. The minor vassals in Driftmark now answered to me, and I no longer needed to depend on whether Balman liked me or not to raise soldiers from Driftmark.
My relationship with Lyra hadn't been the same after I returned. She had given birth to a child, my son, who I'd publicly acknowledged. We both were under great pressure, having openly admitted our affair after Durran's birth, and things simply couldn't go back to what they once were. The heat of the moment was gone, replaced by cold reality and a burden of being a father. Lyra and myself both had changed, and the time spent apart had been long enough for us to grow apart. It could've been simple to end our affair, but she was also pregnant once again. I'd put another child inside of her not long after Durran's birth.
It was around that time when I received a word from Dorne. My father's sister, Princess Myrcella Baratheon had been widowed. A fever had taken her husband, Trystan Martell, uncle of Princess Emberlei of Dorne. I sent my condolences to Sunspear with an invitation, writing that there'd always be a place at my court for my kin. With her husband gone, nothing bound her to Dorne any more, and so my aunt sent a word to me that she accepted the offer. The letter said that my cousin Allyria Martell would also come.
Life was not as peaceful as I had hoped. Disgruntled peasants had risen up into a revolt in the Whispers. King Edric sent a word from the capital that my presence was needed, and so I departed from Dragonstone once more. I did not have a choice; although taking orders from my uncle was as distasteful, defying him openly was not an option. My hatred for him had not faded, and the thought of some day taking vengeance upon was still in my mind. For some reason I hesitated, though, as if waiting for a sign on what to do. The Riverlands would no doubt join my cause, but I was not sure about the rest of Westeros. Lord Melwyn Lannister owed quite a bit to my father, as did Lord Rickon Stark. My sister was married to Lord Harrold Arryn's second son, but was that a strong foundation for an alliance to depose a king? I doubted that. And so I waited.
The uprising was easily dealt with, even if it took a few months. When I finally returned to Dragonstone, Lyra had given birth to yet another son. We decided to name him Aemon after the legendary Dragonknight who'd been a second son as well. I acknowledged the child as my own, but didn't go so far as to legitimise him. I was still betrothed to Princess Malora Baratheon, King Edric's daughter. Putting my natural born sons higher in the line of succession than the possible children me and Malora might have would've been a great insult, and already dishonoring our betrothal by siring bastards had caused more than enough disdain.
A word from King's Landing arrived some weeks later. Despite my past affair with Lady Lyra Baelish, King Edric was still interested in marrying his eldest child to me. I'd been too young to comprehend the full meaning of the betrothal when it had been made between me and my cousin Malora, but I knew better than to dishonor King Edric or her by breaking it. It tied me to the crown more tightly; not only was I a relative of the king, but now also his son-in-law. I had not forgotten the past and every day brought me closer to vengeance; marrying Malora was not an obstacle, but a means to an end. She was the eldest child of King Edric, even if his younger brother Jerion was the heir. If I could not gather enough of support for my claim, I could put Malora on the Iron Throne by taking out his brother. The possibilities were many, and I hadn't decided yet which road I'd take.
The name Dragonstone describes surprisingly well the island itself and the fortress on it. It's an imposing sight for a seafarer; a crude but magnificent fortress, standing amidst the waters of the Narrow Sea. Though ruling the place is considered a great honor, Dragonstone is but a cold and lonely island. I made sure it wasn't so for the wedding. Fires burned everywhere and it seemed as if the stone dragon of the palace had become alive. I myself had tended to Aegon's Garden, and returned it back to its former state. Ripping out the weeds was a long task and took several days, but the work was rewarding and I came to understand how much easier things are if done systematicly.
It'd been three years since I'd seen Malora the last time. We'd both grown up in the Red Keep and I counted her as one of my childhood friends. I'd always been a talkative person and gaining friends had been easy for me, so it was natural that I'd gotten to know with the other children at the court. Though Malora was a shy and quiet person, she was cynical at heart just like me. She was a pretty little princess who worked hard to get what she wanted, and she wanted it all. Now that she arrived to Dragonstone, escorted by his father who'd left the capital to attend the wedding, the person in front of me was no longer a little girl but a young woman. I was told that she'd received martial training under Lord Commander Balon's guidance. I told the spymaster of mine, Rhialta, that she'd be taking the princess under her wing from now on.
Dragonbane himself had come as well. His work bound him to be where the King was, and I was glad to see my former guardian after three years. He was curious to hear my part of the fighting in the Riverlands, for a good reason: he'd been the one who'd trained me to fight after all. After the annihilation of the Riverlander army, Ryan Tully had ordered his armies disbanded. His flag flew over Seagard, the target of his war, and the Ironborn hadn't been able to retake it. Winning the battles hadn't brought the Last Kraken a victory, and so the war raged on - even if only in name.
Neither I nor Malora were religious, but traditions needed to be respected and so we spoke the words in front of a septon and he blessed us with holy oil. After that I draped her into a cloak bearing the sigil of the House Baratheon - which ironically was the same as his father's - officially taking her into my protection. After that a feast followed. I was courteous enough to sit next to my wife and exchange words with her for a moment, but many of my old acquaintances had come to the wedding, both near and from afar, and I tried to catch up with what had happened to them. Ser Guyard Buckler, my bodyguard with a white cloak, was as eager; he'd not seen his fellow comrades for as many years as I. Knowing that he had a lot to talk, I released him from his duties for the night.
Clayton was celebrating like no tomorrow. He was in his cups and expressed openly how he was genuinely happy for me. My spymaster Rhialta took his condition as a topic and suggested that she'd take him elsewhere so he wouldn't embarass himself any further. From the way she looked at Clayton, I could see she had something else in her mind too. I encouraged Clayton to go with her, and watched grinning as escorted him away to a more private location. That is when my eyes met Lady Roslin's.
Sometimes I hope that all the wine I drank had erased the memory of what happened next. It was certainly not one of my proudest moments, although Roslin Frey was certainly one of the most beautiful women I'd ever met. Even in late-fourties she was as stunning as ever, and I happened to be a young man with a lustful character. I ran away with Roslin, first slipping away with her and when finally in a quiet place, inside of her.
When the deed was done, the realization of what I'd done caught up with me. Despite the fact that this was to be my own wedding night, I'd been with Lady Roslin instead. I'd already spoken the words, and now I'd betrayed my wife even before consummating our marriage. Without forgetting her father, King Edric, who no doubt would soon notice that I'd gone missing. By bedding Lady Roslin, I'd also put my alliance with Ryan Tully in danger. I didn't even want to guess what my my brother-in-law would do if he got to know that I'd plowed his mother behind his father's back. She only looked at me with a smug grin on her face, and I had a feeling she knew something I didn't.
Knowing that my disappearance would be soon noticed if not already, I told her to get dressed. I sent her out of the room first, knowing it'd be the best if we didn't return to the feast at the same time. A moment after she'd gone, I exited the room. I looked around and sighed of relief when I did not see anyone. After I took the first steps, I heard a voice said; ''My lord.'' I suddenly stopped and turned around, noticing a hooded man step out of the shadows. My first thought was a fear that this stranger might've realized what I'd done. As it happens, he confronted me for another reason entirely.
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Sir, I can no longer beileve that this Roslin thing is not colsole-triggered orsomething. Seriously? With Arry too? That woman is... perverse. I kinda like her LOL.
Good update, as always. Seems like Edric fate is shaping badly. By the way the idea to see Arry becoming king-consort is one that quite appeals to me: all the possibilities for schemes -and beddings- behind the throne... heheh.
I wonder what are the plans you hav in stock for Myrcella and the dornish lady...
By the way, how old is the Dragonbane by now?
Good update, as always. Seems like Edric fate is shaping badly. By the way the idea to see Arry becoming king-consort is one that quite appeals to me: all the possibilities for schemes -and beddings- behind the throne... heheh.
I wonder what are the plans you hav in stock for Myrcella and the dornish lady...
By the way, how old is the Dragonbane by now?
Probably have many, many, many, many, many horrifying images that would retard sleep for nights to come.
Too true
In one game there was a woman who took care of my characters in three generations.Nope! Lustful + lustful = is a formula we all know too well. Whereas bedding her as Tommen was due to my own initiate as a player, this time the event appeared on its own.
Playing as a king in peaceful Seven Kingdoms can be boring in GoT mod. Stupidity of the AI can either be very annoying or make the game more interesting if you're not the top liege. We'll see what I come up with.
Ser Balon is 68 years old. He is still a formidable fighter, tho!
No. She has two children fathered by Edmure; Ryan and a younger daughter Perra. There's also a bastard daughter called Helya, whose father is Lucos Chyttering. He on the other hand is Brienne of Tarth's husband who is the current lady paramount of the Stormlands.
Game of Thrones.So much ploughing in one update.
Yeah. Not only does CK2 prevent such hostilities, but Ryan is also an overall good guy.
Aidun, i have to say you are an a..hole!
BUT one of the good ones. To keep us waiting one week for an update of your, literally epic story, is cruel but your improvement of storytelling is fantatic, i wish i hand some of your skills! *envious*
Only the sentence,
May i ask for a Charakter-Screen of that lovly cousin of Arry?
And also one of Arianne. In most of my games she's quite a whore with at least a dozen bastards, mostly unknown ones.
BUT one of the good ones. To keep us waiting one week for an update of your, literally epic story, is cruel but your improvement of storytelling is fantatic, i wish i hand some of your skills! *envious*
Only the sentence,
makes me hungry for even more and I want to know what it is!
May i ask for a Charakter-Screen of that lovly cousin of Arry?
And also one of Arianne. In most of my games she's quite a whore with at least a dozen bastards, mostly unknown ones.
so roslin fucked edmure,tommen,that chytering guy,barristan and arry?
hell,she is as bad as cersei XD
hell,she is as bad as cersei XD
The Little Cub
Part 39 - Mine By Right
--
The Ironborn have an old saying ''what is dead may never die.'' All my life I've known that is not the truth. All men must - and will - die. From whores to highborn and beggars to kings, the end is unavoidable and same for everyone. I do not know what is on the other side, and have always questioned what the septons teach us. Lately however I have began to wonder what awaits for us all although the question never bothered me before. Is there a heaven reserved for the good and seven hells for the damned? Or is stepping to the afterlife like being swallowed by the sea and drowning into a pitch-black darkness for eternity? I have sent many men from this world, and one day what lies on the other side will be unveiled to me as well. Whether those before me will be there or if I am to be condemned to spend my time alone forever remains unknown to me as well. My actions have cost the lives of those dearest to me, and I only hope I could see their faces again.
Perhaps one day, but not today.
Every religion tries to offer their own answers to these questions, but the Hermit doesn't seem to concern himself with which religion is the right one. I haven't brought up my own beliefs to him and I prefer it that way; one can ponder the same questions even without believing in the teachings of a religion. The road that led me here, to the Hermit and his hut, began from my wedding night. A man worshipping the same God as I stepped from the shadows and offered me a gift that was that was too tempting to refuse. ''Any name. A man will see to it that the task is done. A minute, an hour, a month - the death is certain, the time is not.'' I was a bitter young man with hate for many, and when I was given a chance to erase anyone from this world, I could not say no.
That an assassin suddenly appeared to offer his services to me was surprising and I did not trust him. I knew I'd seal mine or someone's fate by saying any name name. Either I could get what I wanted or the man was actually a decoy in service of King Edric, testing my loyalty. I was tempted to name my uncle, but should he have died then at Dragonstone would have raised questions. I decided that if he was to die by someone's sword, it should be by mine. When I asked him what he wanted in return, he replied: ''One can not cheat the Many-Faced God by taking a life for free. The price is high.'' The Faceless Man hailed from Braavos, and like all his kind, he was interested in money. I promised to pay him what he wanted once the deed was done, and he agreed to that.
And so I whispered a name to him.
The man was gone as swiftly as he'd appeared in the first place, and I returned to the feast, spending the rest of it sitting silently at the table beside my wife. It took me longer than usually to do the deed when consummating our marriage due to the fact that I'd been with Roslin, but Malora was still a maid and I doubt she noticed a thing. The next morning our guests departed from Dragonstone, King Edric among them. He was alive, just as I'd wanted him to be, but a few weeks later I received a word that Lady Brienne Tarth of the Stormlands was not. Being concerned whether or not any rumours had spread about my tumbling with Roslin, I took part in the gossip sessions of the courtiers. Luckily it had remained a secret, and it wasn't my discretion that was under question.
People considered Lady Brienne's death an accident, but I knew better. She had been old and childless and her nephew stood to inherit the Stormlands after she was gone. A frail, shy boy of fifteen, Quentyn, who was of the House Dondarrion from his father's side. Despite her age, Brienne of Tarth had been a legendary warrior and under her rule the Stormlands were strong. With a young, incompetent boy with a wrong family name in charge, the Stormlands were ripe for taking. Instead of making a move for the Iron Throne, I'd sent the faceless man to Storm's End. I meant to see to it that a Baratheon would once more rule the Stormlands, and murdering Lady Brienne was the first step. Yet at the time I was unaware of the truth that would change everything.
I began to prepare for war. To solidate my rule at Dragonstone, I decided it was time to grant Driftmark to someone I trusted. The choice was obvious. Ser Clayton Follard had been my best friend all the way from childhood, and we'd both squired for Dragonbane. If there was someone I was ready to give my life for, it was him. Clayton was kind at heart but fearsome when angered, and a proven swordsman besides. We'd fought side by side in the Riverlands and soon we would do so again. This time, however, it would be as lords. I arranged a marriage between him and Alysanne Velaryon, a sister of Lord Balman from who I'd revoked Driftmark in the first place. At their wedding feast, I announced my decision to name him the Lord of Driftmark. I hoped it would also calm down the followers of R'hllor who still formed the majority of the population on both islands, knowing that Clayton shared their ways.
The Hermit's name remains a mystery to me. When I asked it, the old man replied that such formalities are unnecessary between us. I can not say if he knows who I am, but even if so, he's not taken it as a subject. He bears scars and has lost a few of his fingers, which suggests that he once followed the same path as I, but then decided to settle down and live the rest of his days in solitude. He was reluctant to talk about his past when I once asked him about his background, and so I let the matter be. Somehow I envy the man for being able to give up on everything, and felt sad that I could not do the same. After hearing the things I've heard, I only want to fade away.
But to understand why my road has led here, one must know what happened before. I called for my banners and sent word to Lords Ryan Tully and Harrold Arryn that their help would be needed in my war for the Stormlands. They both were married to sisters of mine, and I expected them to honor our alliance by joining us. If not, my cause was already doomed for I only commanded four thousand men whereas the Stormlands no doubt could muster several times more even with a boy ruler in charge. I was blessed with loyal friends, and both the Vale and the Riverlands pledged their forces to my cause.
The news were all that I'd hoped for. Our combined forces should surely outcome whoever the young Dondarrion would send against us. King Edric was my uncle and father-in-law, but as he was also the liege of both me and Lord Quentyn, he could not interfere militarily by taking a side. The fleet of Dragonstone set sails once more in direction of Saltpans, where my troops would await until our army was rallied. We waited, just like we'd done in this same town years ago. It didn't take long for the Valemen to join forces with us, but it seemed that Lord Ryan would not be joining us at all. He'd promised to aid us in our campaign, but two thousand Ironborn had landed at Seagard to recapture the fortress, and the Riverlander forces needed to deal with the situation before joining the war for the Stormlands. I knew the Riverlander army was already few in numbers and needed every man they could muster in defence of their own lands.
Hoping that the combined forces of Dragonstone and the Vale would be enough, I rode south with Harrold Arryn. He told me that my twin sister, his second son Gylbert Arryn's wife, had given birth to a boy called Arnos just recently. Gylbert was more commonly known as 'the Greathawk' whereas my sister was called 'Greatstag', so they made an amusing couple. I never quite figured out why people took to calling my sister that as there was little greatness in her. Nevertheless I wished she was happy in her new home at Midlor Point, a lordship in the Fingers that Gylbert had been granted.
We marched across the Crownlands but met neither an envoy from King Edric nor any resistance. Moving close to fourty-thousand men across a continent takes time and supplies, and usually armies resort to stealing from smallfolk as they pass through their lands. Lord Harrold's orders were clear, however; no looting nor raping. He was said to be quite a hedonist, but I came to notice he was a good man overall with a decent sense of justice. I grew fond of the man and found many similarities between us. He even invited me to visit me at the Eyrie once the war was over. I liked the idea. As a youngster I'd dreamed of travelling across Westeros in disguise, accompanied by my friends. People treated me like a prince and hid their true nature behind courtesies, and I wanted to learn to know the lords just as they were. King Edric had spent his own youth in Essos, and I was eager to see the world as well. The plan was never set in motion, however, as I knew Ser Balon and my uncle would never let me leave on such a journey.
Our march brought us to the Stormlands, and we advanced towards Storm's End without any resistance. I already cherished the thought that I could take my rightful seat without any violence when the enemy army was sighted. They were badly outnumbered and we had three or four men for every one of theirs. Despite their disadvantage Lord Quentyn had sent his men out on the field. I couldn't help but to wonder why; alone these twelve thousand men could do nothing against us, but if manning the walls of Storm's End, they could easily make futile our efforts to take the fortress. Before they might change their mind at the sight of our host, Lord Harrold ordered a full charge.
My men joined the battle, fighting beside Lord Harrold's. Although the war was admittedly mine, this battle was his. The Lord of the Vale led the center and I along with Lord Clayton, Ser Guyard and Gaston the White Bastard joined his retinue. Even though the hair of Lord Arryn was already grey, the same could not be said about his blade which was soon stained with blood. He was a fine swordsman and fought valiantly. And when the day was done, we'd won. He'd brought us victory by joining the war, and for that I was forever thankful. I managed to stay unscathed, but Clayton took a deep cut in his leg that looked quite bad. I ordered the maesters to take care of him, but then again there were thousands of other wounded. I suggested we'd pursue the ones who'd run and crush any remaining forces of Lord Quentyn before they could rally, but Lord Harrold was determined to besiege Storm's End. And so we set up a camp around the fortress that stood on the edge of a cliff and tended to our wounded, trying to starve our enemy out.
After a few days we got to know why our enemy army had been so little in numbers. Lord Quentyn had divided his host into two, sending the other one to take Dragonstone. The enemies had stormed the fortress, taking it with heavy losses, but luckily my family had managed to escape with most of our fortune. A few days later my wife, mother and my children arrived, brought by the Dragonstone fleet that had set sails when the Stormlanders had been sighted. I was eager for payback, but Lord Harrold reminded me that Lord Quentyn was within Storm's End and taking both the fortress and its ruler were the key to ending the war. He also reminded me of my personal experience of what happens when an army is divided, and so I was subdued once more by his council.
Home is where children and women belong when there's a war, but there they were, trying to live in the camp we'd set around Storm's End. I knew there'd be no return home until the war was over, so I tried to make their lives as comfortable as possible. My elder son Durran was four years old and already interested in swordsplay, and there were many in the camp willing to teach him as a pastime. My wife Malora however had a fondness for romantic poetry, and I supplied her with more copies. But as the remaining Stormlander forces began to constantly harass our siege camp, I was needed elsewhere. I volunteered to gather my men and ride around the surrounding lands, and Lord Harrold agreed to that. What little marauders, deserters or broken men we found, we hanged.
After I'd swept through the surrounding lands, I turned my host back towards Storm's End. Serving under a skilled commander like Lord Arryn had taught me a lot, and I noticed how leading had become easier for me. I'd learned what was required from a leader and with experience about battles, my strategic mind had also advanced to a whole new level. I already had an authorative way to talk, and that combined with everything I'd learned, I had become even more proficient commander. And soon, if my wife truly was right, I'd be a father of her child. Her time at the camp had resulted with a pregnancy.
The joy of the news was short-lived. When I went to see Clayton in his tent, a grim-looking maester was there to receive me. The cut wound in the leg he'd suffered in the battle had gotten worse, and an immediate amputation had been necessary. That however had not been enough, and Clayton had died in the process. I'd seen men being chopped to pieces and even been at the other end more than once, but seeing my best friend's maimed, lifeless body lying on a surgeon's table was almost too much for me to handle. My best friend, dead because of a war I started. Like all the bodies, he was burned as well to prevent any sicknesses from spreading in the camp. He had been a follower of the R'hllor, so I thought it was fitting he'd leave this world that way. His father Ser Perkin was soon at my heels, and even in his mourning tried to ensure that Driftmark would pass to him since he was Clayton's only living relative. I did not want to be bothered by him one moment longer, and so dismissed him with my approval.
Thinking back at that day makes me feel uneasy. When I first met the Hermit, I could almost swear he saw the pain and sorrow in my eyes that I carried with me hidden inside. But it wasn't only due to Clayton's death. The journey from Dragonstone at sea had weared my mother, who'd fallen ill. Now her condition had worsened, and she requested that I be summoned. When I went to see her, drunk from mourning Clayton, she was in worse condition than I'd expected. My mother had lost her main reason to live after my father's demise, but even though the sorrow had eaten her from the inside, she'd survived all these years to see me grow into a man. Now, however, her time was running out.
''There's something you need to know'', she said with a silent but serious voice. And so she spoke, telling me the cruel truth that had almost died with my father. I'd started a war over the Stormlands because I was a Baratheon, but my claim was an unjustified one for I was no Baratheon at all. My father, Tommen, had been but a bastard born from incest. At first I didn't believe the words, but after asking myself why she would lie now on her deathbed, I slowly began to believe her words. Already shocked by Clayton's death, these words shook my world even more. I did not blame my mother for keeping this secret for this long, but unloaded my anger and wrath in the only way I knew how to; by beating people senseless at the training ground. And for that evening, mine was fury even if not else.
Two nights later she passed away.
News came from the Riverlands of victory over the Ironborn. While the rest of the camp celebrated and raised cups in Ryan Tully's name, I mourned my dead mother and my dead brother. All the soldiers had gone through a lot and craved for something else than the constant reminder of death, but I was not in mood for stupifying myself with lavish drinking. I was already not myself, and needed not to take another step away from what and who I was. I watched the flames lick my mother's corpse at nightfall and at the hour of wolf, snuck out of my tent from my wife's side. I needed to get away, to clear my head and to gather my thoughts. Dressed in a leather outfit that served as a disguise, I rode into the night. At dawn they would notice that I'd left. My wife would no doubt be the first one to ask the questions, followed by my bodyguard Ser Guyard. It didn't matter, though. I was more than capable of taking care of myself with the forests cleaned from the brigands. I'd left Fire in my tent in my wife's care, knowing that it would only raise unwanted attention.
Now that I think of it afterwards, my disappearance was an irrational thing to do. Had I encountered trouble and lost my life in some robbery, the whole war would've been for nothing. I only hope that Lord Harrold understood how dire my situation was. After a week of riding north, I heard a rumour about a half-mad Hermit who lived alone in the woods near Bronzegate. For one reason or another, I followed the instructions I'd received and found myself from the old man's lands. I asked for his hospitality, and surprisingly he agreed to take me under his roof without further persuasion. We barely spoke during the next few days, and I helped him how I could in his chores, trying to earn my place. Not once he spoke about turning me away, and suddenly I found myself feeling surprisingly content.
''You've sat here for half the day'', a voice echoed and woke me up from my thoughts. I looked over my shoulder at the Hermit. He was an old, gruff man with grey hair and a thick beard covering his mouth, dressed in old dirty fur outfit. I didn't answer and only turned back to face the other direction. It only provoked the Hermit to go on; ''I have not once asked you why you're here. Nor does it matter, to be honest.'' He kept a pause, but I knew it was not to think of the next words of wisdom. He knew them already when he'd approached me: ''Whatever you did, whatever has happened to you.. it doesn't matter either. There are some bells a man can't stop from ringing, but he can move on regardless.'' I stood up and turned to face the old man. The look on his face was as calm and determined as always. ''Look at your reflection in the water if you doubt that'', he continued, knowing I didn't take his words seriously. When I frowned in confusion, he grinned slightly and went on; ''Your hair. You're kissed by fire. And fire is a purifying element.''
His words brought my mother and Clayton into my mind. They both left this world in flames. As I looked the Hermit more closely, I could see a few red hairs in his thick beard as well. His grin turned into a smile, and I found myself smirking to break the silence. ''You're not done just yet, boy'', he spoke with a soft voice. ''You of all the people have something to live for.'' As he finished saying the words, I searched his eyes for a truth whether he knew who I was or not. His gaze didn't give out the answer. I only nodded and then walked past him back to the hut.
The next morning I left five gold dragons beside the Hermit's bed, went to saddle my horse and began riding towards Storm's End where my children, my wife and my unborn child awaited.
Part 39 - Mine By Right
--
The Ironborn have an old saying ''what is dead may never die.'' All my life I've known that is not the truth. All men must - and will - die. From whores to highborn and beggars to kings, the end is unavoidable and same for everyone. I do not know what is on the other side, and have always questioned what the septons teach us. Lately however I have began to wonder what awaits for us all although the question never bothered me before. Is there a heaven reserved for the good and seven hells for the damned? Or is stepping to the afterlife like being swallowed by the sea and drowning into a pitch-black darkness for eternity? I have sent many men from this world, and one day what lies on the other side will be unveiled to me as well. Whether those before me will be there or if I am to be condemned to spend my time alone forever remains unknown to me as well. My actions have cost the lives of those dearest to me, and I only hope I could see their faces again.
Perhaps one day, but not today.
Every religion tries to offer their own answers to these questions, but the Hermit doesn't seem to concern himself with which religion is the right one. I haven't brought up my own beliefs to him and I prefer it that way; one can ponder the same questions even without believing in the teachings of a religion. The road that led me here, to the Hermit and his hut, began from my wedding night. A man worshipping the same God as I stepped from the shadows and offered me a gift that was that was too tempting to refuse. ''Any name. A man will see to it that the task is done. A minute, an hour, a month - the death is certain, the time is not.'' I was a bitter young man with hate for many, and when I was given a chance to erase anyone from this world, I could not say no.
That an assassin suddenly appeared to offer his services to me was surprising and I did not trust him. I knew I'd seal mine or someone's fate by saying any name name. Either I could get what I wanted or the man was actually a decoy in service of King Edric, testing my loyalty. I was tempted to name my uncle, but should he have died then at Dragonstone would have raised questions. I decided that if he was to die by someone's sword, it should be by mine. When I asked him what he wanted in return, he replied: ''One can not cheat the Many-Faced God by taking a life for free. The price is high.'' The Faceless Man hailed from Braavos, and like all his kind, he was interested in money. I promised to pay him what he wanted once the deed was done, and he agreed to that.
And so I whispered a name to him.
The man was gone as swiftly as he'd appeared in the first place, and I returned to the feast, spending the rest of it sitting silently at the table beside my wife. It took me longer than usually to do the deed when consummating our marriage due to the fact that I'd been with Roslin, but Malora was still a maid and I doubt she noticed a thing. The next morning our guests departed from Dragonstone, King Edric among them. He was alive, just as I'd wanted him to be, but a few weeks later I received a word that Lady Brienne Tarth of the Stormlands was not. Being concerned whether or not any rumours had spread about my tumbling with Roslin, I took part in the gossip sessions of the courtiers. Luckily it had remained a secret, and it wasn't my discretion that was under question.
People considered Lady Brienne's death an accident, but I knew better. She had been old and childless and her nephew stood to inherit the Stormlands after she was gone. A frail, shy boy of fifteen, Quentyn, who was of the House Dondarrion from his father's side. Despite her age, Brienne of Tarth had been a legendary warrior and under her rule the Stormlands were strong. With a young, incompetent boy with a wrong family name in charge, the Stormlands were ripe for taking. Instead of making a move for the Iron Throne, I'd sent the faceless man to Storm's End. I meant to see to it that a Baratheon would once more rule the Stormlands, and murdering Lady Brienne was the first step. Yet at the time I was unaware of the truth that would change everything.
I began to prepare for war. To solidate my rule at Dragonstone, I decided it was time to grant Driftmark to someone I trusted. The choice was obvious. Ser Clayton Follard had been my best friend all the way from childhood, and we'd both squired for Dragonbane. If there was someone I was ready to give my life for, it was him. Clayton was kind at heart but fearsome when angered, and a proven swordsman besides. We'd fought side by side in the Riverlands and soon we would do so again. This time, however, it would be as lords. I arranged a marriage between him and Alysanne Velaryon, a sister of Lord Balman from who I'd revoked Driftmark in the first place. At their wedding feast, I announced my decision to name him the Lord of Driftmark. I hoped it would also calm down the followers of R'hllor who still formed the majority of the population on both islands, knowing that Clayton shared their ways.
The Hermit's name remains a mystery to me. When I asked it, the old man replied that such formalities are unnecessary between us. I can not say if he knows who I am, but even if so, he's not taken it as a subject. He bears scars and has lost a few of his fingers, which suggests that he once followed the same path as I, but then decided to settle down and live the rest of his days in solitude. He was reluctant to talk about his past when I once asked him about his background, and so I let the matter be. Somehow I envy the man for being able to give up on everything, and felt sad that I could not do the same. After hearing the things I've heard, I only want to fade away.
But to understand why my road has led here, one must know what happened before. I called for my banners and sent word to Lords Ryan Tully and Harrold Arryn that their help would be needed in my war for the Stormlands. They both were married to sisters of mine, and I expected them to honor our alliance by joining us. If not, my cause was already doomed for I only commanded four thousand men whereas the Stormlands no doubt could muster several times more even with a boy ruler in charge. I was blessed with loyal friends, and both the Vale and the Riverlands pledged their forces to my cause.
The news were all that I'd hoped for. Our combined forces should surely outcome whoever the young Dondarrion would send against us. King Edric was my uncle and father-in-law, but as he was also the liege of both me and Lord Quentyn, he could not interfere militarily by taking a side. The fleet of Dragonstone set sails once more in direction of Saltpans, where my troops would await until our army was rallied. We waited, just like we'd done in this same town years ago. It didn't take long for the Valemen to join forces with us, but it seemed that Lord Ryan would not be joining us at all. He'd promised to aid us in our campaign, but two thousand Ironborn had landed at Seagard to recapture the fortress, and the Riverlander forces needed to deal with the situation before joining the war for the Stormlands. I knew the Riverlander army was already few in numbers and needed every man they could muster in defence of their own lands.
Hoping that the combined forces of Dragonstone and the Vale would be enough, I rode south with Harrold Arryn. He told me that my twin sister, his second son Gylbert Arryn's wife, had given birth to a boy called Arnos just recently. Gylbert was more commonly known as 'the Greathawk' whereas my sister was called 'Greatstag', so they made an amusing couple. I never quite figured out why people took to calling my sister that as there was little greatness in her. Nevertheless I wished she was happy in her new home at Midlor Point, a lordship in the Fingers that Gylbert had been granted.
We marched across the Crownlands but met neither an envoy from King Edric nor any resistance. Moving close to fourty-thousand men across a continent takes time and supplies, and usually armies resort to stealing from smallfolk as they pass through their lands. Lord Harrold's orders were clear, however; no looting nor raping. He was said to be quite a hedonist, but I came to notice he was a good man overall with a decent sense of justice. I grew fond of the man and found many similarities between us. He even invited me to visit me at the Eyrie once the war was over. I liked the idea. As a youngster I'd dreamed of travelling across Westeros in disguise, accompanied by my friends. People treated me like a prince and hid their true nature behind courtesies, and I wanted to learn to know the lords just as they were. King Edric had spent his own youth in Essos, and I was eager to see the world as well. The plan was never set in motion, however, as I knew Ser Balon and my uncle would never let me leave on such a journey.
Our march brought us to the Stormlands, and we advanced towards Storm's End without any resistance. I already cherished the thought that I could take my rightful seat without any violence when the enemy army was sighted. They were badly outnumbered and we had three or four men for every one of theirs. Despite their disadvantage Lord Quentyn had sent his men out on the field. I couldn't help but to wonder why; alone these twelve thousand men could do nothing against us, but if manning the walls of Storm's End, they could easily make futile our efforts to take the fortress. Before they might change their mind at the sight of our host, Lord Harrold ordered a full charge.
My men joined the battle, fighting beside Lord Harrold's. Although the war was admittedly mine, this battle was his. The Lord of the Vale led the center and I along with Lord Clayton, Ser Guyard and Gaston the White Bastard joined his retinue. Even though the hair of Lord Arryn was already grey, the same could not be said about his blade which was soon stained with blood. He was a fine swordsman and fought valiantly. And when the day was done, we'd won. He'd brought us victory by joining the war, and for that I was forever thankful. I managed to stay unscathed, but Clayton took a deep cut in his leg that looked quite bad. I ordered the maesters to take care of him, but then again there were thousands of other wounded. I suggested we'd pursue the ones who'd run and crush any remaining forces of Lord Quentyn before they could rally, but Lord Harrold was determined to besiege Storm's End. And so we set up a camp around the fortress that stood on the edge of a cliff and tended to our wounded, trying to starve our enemy out.
After a few days we got to know why our enemy army had been so little in numbers. Lord Quentyn had divided his host into two, sending the other one to take Dragonstone. The enemies had stormed the fortress, taking it with heavy losses, but luckily my family had managed to escape with most of our fortune. A few days later my wife, mother and my children arrived, brought by the Dragonstone fleet that had set sails when the Stormlanders had been sighted. I was eager for payback, but Lord Harrold reminded me that Lord Quentyn was within Storm's End and taking both the fortress and its ruler were the key to ending the war. He also reminded me of my personal experience of what happens when an army is divided, and so I was subdued once more by his council.
Home is where children and women belong when there's a war, but there they were, trying to live in the camp we'd set around Storm's End. I knew there'd be no return home until the war was over, so I tried to make their lives as comfortable as possible. My elder son Durran was four years old and already interested in swordsplay, and there were many in the camp willing to teach him as a pastime. My wife Malora however had a fondness for romantic poetry, and I supplied her with more copies. But as the remaining Stormlander forces began to constantly harass our siege camp, I was needed elsewhere. I volunteered to gather my men and ride around the surrounding lands, and Lord Harrold agreed to that. What little marauders, deserters or broken men we found, we hanged.
After I'd swept through the surrounding lands, I turned my host back towards Storm's End. Serving under a skilled commander like Lord Arryn had taught me a lot, and I noticed how leading had become easier for me. I'd learned what was required from a leader and with experience about battles, my strategic mind had also advanced to a whole new level. I already had an authorative way to talk, and that combined with everything I'd learned, I had become even more proficient commander. And soon, if my wife truly was right, I'd be a father of her child. Her time at the camp had resulted with a pregnancy.
The joy of the news was short-lived. When I went to see Clayton in his tent, a grim-looking maester was there to receive me. The cut wound in the leg he'd suffered in the battle had gotten worse, and an immediate amputation had been necessary. That however had not been enough, and Clayton had died in the process. I'd seen men being chopped to pieces and even been at the other end more than once, but seeing my best friend's maimed, lifeless body lying on a surgeon's table was almost too much for me to handle. My best friend, dead because of a war I started. Like all the bodies, he was burned as well to prevent any sicknesses from spreading in the camp. He had been a follower of the R'hllor, so I thought it was fitting he'd leave this world that way. His father Ser Perkin was soon at my heels, and even in his mourning tried to ensure that Driftmark would pass to him since he was Clayton's only living relative. I did not want to be bothered by him one moment longer, and so dismissed him with my approval.
Thinking back at that day makes me feel uneasy. When I first met the Hermit, I could almost swear he saw the pain and sorrow in my eyes that I carried with me hidden inside. But it wasn't only due to Clayton's death. The journey from Dragonstone at sea had weared my mother, who'd fallen ill. Now her condition had worsened, and she requested that I be summoned. When I went to see her, drunk from mourning Clayton, she was in worse condition than I'd expected. My mother had lost her main reason to live after my father's demise, but even though the sorrow had eaten her from the inside, she'd survived all these years to see me grow into a man. Now, however, her time was running out.
''There's something you need to know'', she said with a silent but serious voice. And so she spoke, telling me the cruel truth that had almost died with my father. I'd started a war over the Stormlands because I was a Baratheon, but my claim was an unjustified one for I was no Baratheon at all. My father, Tommen, had been but a bastard born from incest. At first I didn't believe the words, but after asking myself why she would lie now on her deathbed, I slowly began to believe her words. Already shocked by Clayton's death, these words shook my world even more. I did not blame my mother for keeping this secret for this long, but unloaded my anger and wrath in the only way I knew how to; by beating people senseless at the training ground. And for that evening, mine was fury even if not else.
Two nights later she passed away.
News came from the Riverlands of victory over the Ironborn. While the rest of the camp celebrated and raised cups in Ryan Tully's name, I mourned my dead mother and my dead brother. All the soldiers had gone through a lot and craved for something else than the constant reminder of death, but I was not in mood for stupifying myself with lavish drinking. I was already not myself, and needed not to take another step away from what and who I was. I watched the flames lick my mother's corpse at nightfall and at the hour of wolf, snuck out of my tent from my wife's side. I needed to get away, to clear my head and to gather my thoughts. Dressed in a leather outfit that served as a disguise, I rode into the night. At dawn they would notice that I'd left. My wife would no doubt be the first one to ask the questions, followed by my bodyguard Ser Guyard. It didn't matter, though. I was more than capable of taking care of myself with the forests cleaned from the brigands. I'd left Fire in my tent in my wife's care, knowing that it would only raise unwanted attention.
Now that I think of it afterwards, my disappearance was an irrational thing to do. Had I encountered trouble and lost my life in some robbery, the whole war would've been for nothing. I only hope that Lord Harrold understood how dire my situation was. After a week of riding north, I heard a rumour about a half-mad Hermit who lived alone in the woods near Bronzegate. For one reason or another, I followed the instructions I'd received and found myself from the old man's lands. I asked for his hospitality, and surprisingly he agreed to take me under his roof without further persuasion. We barely spoke during the next few days, and I helped him how I could in his chores, trying to earn my place. Not once he spoke about turning me away, and suddenly I found myself feeling surprisingly content.
''You've sat here for half the day'', a voice echoed and woke me up from my thoughts. I looked over my shoulder at the Hermit. He was an old, gruff man with grey hair and a thick beard covering his mouth, dressed in old dirty fur outfit. I didn't answer and only turned back to face the other direction. It only provoked the Hermit to go on; ''I have not once asked you why you're here. Nor does it matter, to be honest.'' He kept a pause, but I knew it was not to think of the next words of wisdom. He knew them already when he'd approached me: ''Whatever you did, whatever has happened to you.. it doesn't matter either. There are some bells a man can't stop from ringing, but he can move on regardless.'' I stood up and turned to face the old man. The look on his face was as calm and determined as always. ''Look at your reflection in the water if you doubt that'', he continued, knowing I didn't take his words seriously. When I frowned in confusion, he grinned slightly and went on; ''Your hair. You're kissed by fire. And fire is a purifying element.''
His words brought my mother and Clayton into my mind. They both left this world in flames. As I looked the Hermit more closely, I could see a few red hairs in his thick beard as well. His grin turned into a smile, and I found myself smirking to break the silence. ''You're not done just yet, boy'', he spoke with a soft voice. ''You of all the people have something to live for.'' As he finished saying the words, I searched his eyes for a truth whether he knew who I was or not. His gaze didn't give out the answer. I only nodded and then walked past him back to the hut.
The next morning I left five gold dragons beside the Hermit's bed, went to saddle my horse and began riding towards Storm's End where my children, my wife and my unborn child awaited.
Nice update! It seems your use of the faceless man worked better for you than for me. And when did Arry become a redhead?
Name me bad but... isn't Brienne kinda good-looking in her later years? Or, at least, non-ugly, hahah.
Good update. Seems that all your characters are bound to be haunted by the sins of theirforefathers... which is jusstfantastic, story-wise.
I hope the siege has not derailed in Arry's abscence. By the way, may I ask you a writer's question, if you please? Is the italics meant to connote a narration in flash-back,while the normal type means a narration of the "present" of the character time-lime?
Good update. Seems that all your characters are bound to be haunted by the sins of theirforefathers... which is jusstfantastic, story-wise.
I hope the siege has not derailed in Arry's abscence. By the way, may I ask you a writer's question, if you please? Is the italics meant to connote a narration in flash-back,while the normal type means a narration of the "present" of the character time-lime?
Might it not have been easier to conquer those less fortified provinces held by Stormlords, than the Storms Ends itself?
I planned to make the next update to be the last and to release a two-part epilogue to tell you what happens after that. There are some parts that I've known to be coming like the dragon battle, Loras's betrayal and Rickon's appearance, which have been the motivation I needed to keep on writing. Part 40 starts a scenario that similarly I've waited for. After four months of writing this AAR and thinking of it almost on daily basis, I am thinking of catching breath by finally bringing it to an end. I'm open for suggestion on what to do as it's for you readers that I'm writing this story. Shall I end it when it's still awesome or write on?
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I knew I needed to tie Tommen's background somehow to Arry's story; the AAR is named after him after all. It also allowed me to make Alla's death more significant. In case you're wondering how she knew the truth, it was shown earlier in the AAR.
You're absolutely right. He's simply in his thoughts, and towards the end when the Hermit calls for him we continue in the present moment. I was experimenting on a new writing style.
Well, I released pt. 39 just a day after 38. Look at the reader posts above, they already figured out what her grin was all about.
Here's Allyria at the time Malora became pregnant. She's married to Donal Rogers, son of Alyn Rogers and they have a daughter called Tyana who's 15 years old.
Arianne's been out of the picture for the last 25 years. (The game is at 337 AL, she died 312 AL.) If I remember right, she had a lover who was a septon. All her children appear to be from the marriage between her and Ederyn Wyl, though.
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Yes, as far as I know.
Taking out Edric that way would've been too easy. He needs to suffer! And I am not sure what you mean by that. He's always had auburn hair and I count that as red.
'Brienne the Beauty.'
I knew I needed to tie Tommen's background somehow to Arry's story; the AAR is named after him after all. It also allowed me to make Alla's death more significant. In case you're wondering how she knew the truth, it was shown earlier in the AAR.
You're absolutely right. He's simply in his thoughts, and towards the end when the Hermit calls for him we continue in the present moment. I was experimenting on a new writing style.
Two words: Artificial Intelligence.
Aidun, i have to say you are an a..hole!
BUT one of the good ones. To keep us waiting one week for an update of your, literally epic story, is cruel but your improvement of storytelling is fantatic, i wish i hand some of your skills! *envious*
Only the sentence,
makes me hungry for even more and I want to know what it is!
May i ask for a Charakter-Screen of that lovly cousin of Arry?
And also one of Arianne. In most of my games she's quite a whore with at least a dozen bastards, mostly unknown ones.
Well, I released pt. 39 just a day after 38.
Look at the reader posts above, they already figured out what her grin was all about.Here's Allyria at the time Malora became pregnant. She's married to Donal Rogers, son of Alyn Rogers and they have a daughter called Tyana who's 15 years old.
Arianne's been out of the picture for the last 25 years. (The game is at 337 AL, she died 312 AL.) If I remember right, she had a lover who was a septon. All her children appear to be from the marriage between her and Ederyn Wyl, though.
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I think i can see your point. If you want to end the story, it's your right cause it's your story. From a writers opinion, you should end it (is you want to) with something like an end. Just in the middle of a sotry to end is kinda bad.
If you want to continue, maybe another house would be a good startingpoint.
But thats all up to you, cause as an artist it's yours to give what we need and not to "just" entertain us.
I think ending it now would be OK; Probably something awesome happens in part 40 that makes a fitting end point, and with a suitable denouement it would give plenty of closure. My personal preference would be to wait until either Arry dies or re-takes the throne, but I don't think now is a bad choice. As for what to play next; how about Littlefinger, using the same start date as before?
On the subject of ending the story, I believed from the very begining that it would conclude with the live of King Tommen. The countinuation under the boy prince seemed fitting thoug (he alsowas a Cub king, after all).I doubt that the third player character would be in the same circumstance, so ending the AAR in some point in the life of prince Arry. Besids that, the exact moment would depend, in an ideal enviroment, on wether you can find a point that is climatic/anticlimatic/conclusive enough. If you have read "And now my watch is over" you know that and ending in the middle of a character life is entirely feasible, and a very good one, besides.
That goes from the story side of the issue. Now, from the personal side: the only advise I could provide is: take it easy, and do it as it better fits YOU. The public will always be eager for more, and if you put a provisional closure to part IV with chapter 40, and then want to resume it, it will be alright and we voracious readers will leap over it as if a day hadn't passed. The important thing here is that you don't get burned by the story. It is, has been, and potentially would be a very good and enjoyable one, and the first priority should be to ensure it keeps that way. Again, that goes from a sincerely humble opinion of a mere reader and fan.
Either way you will be very welcome. I eagerly wait for the next update
That goes from the story side of the issue. Now, from the personal side: the only advise I could provide is: take it easy, and do it as it better fits YOU. The public will always be eager for more, and if you put a provisional closure to part IV with chapter 40, and then want to resume it, it will be alright and we voracious readers will leap over it as if a day hadn't passed. The important thing here is that you don't get burned by the story. It is, has been, and potentially would be a very good and enjoyable one, and the first priority should be to ensure it keeps that way. Again, that goes from a sincerely humble opinion of a mere reader and fan.
Either way you will be very welcome. I eagerly wait for the next update
How could you end it ? House Badics never rose to power.
It was a good AAR. Very much enjoyed reading it.
It was a good AAR. Very much enjoyed reading it.