Damn, almost everyone in this story is such a douche.
You're really GRRM himself masquerading as a mere forum member, aren't you?
You're really GRRM himself masquerading as a mere forum member, aren't you?
The House of Threedrop [A Game of Thrones AAR]
- Thread starter Henry v. Keiper
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AHH I need a new chapter to this oh and the AAR is fucking awesome and poor Eglantine
I feel a fair bit sorry for Elgantine, what with having to face the cold and harsh reality of being unwanted except as a security token and a prize by almost everyone she knows and loves 
Still, she seems to have learned quickly how to assert her own form of control over the situation, which is I suppose the best that can be hoped for at the moment.
Still, she seems to have learned quickly how to assert her own form of control over the situation, which is I suppose the best that can be hoped for at the moment.
Whew, thanks man.
I'll take that as a compliment - but sadly no.
I was attempting to mimic the rather negative worldview you see in the GoT book series. Another factor is simply that most of the characters I have so far in the game, and that need to be focused on, are rather douchey. One of the traits I gave Lorys was "selfish," so chances are he's not going to be very romantic in bed, or worry about things like whether or not his virgin bride is in pain - I was attempting to emulate his CK2 character traits in the narrative. But hopefully some of the characters introduced later will be not so...metadouche.If you want an AAR of mine with more positive or likable characters (or at least characters with more redeeming values), you can always look at my Elder Kings mod Nerevarine AAR.
(See my signature).Haw haw haw, I think I have created my own personal cult
Fear not, an update will come soon. Glad you're enjoying it that much.I feel a fair bit sorry for Elgantine, what with having to face the cold and harsh reality of being unwanted except as a security token and a prize by almost everyone she knows and loves
That's what I was going for. She was kind of having the Sansa "awakening" that life in medieval courts is not all gallant knights and beloved princesses.
Soon, my friend, soon...
We must bide our time... Also, I've noticed advancing is a bit harder in the GoT mod than it is in vanilla CK2. At least it seems that way to me.
I'll take that as a compliment - but sadly no.
If you want an AAR of mine with more positive or likable characters (or at least characters with more redeeming values), you can always look at my Elder Kings mod Nerevarine AAR.
I'm already a fan of Rise of the Nerevarine! It was just that, Lorys aside, it seemed like you got the deck stacked with a bunch of creepers and arseholes. Just made me wonder. The AAR is still great.
Chapter 4: Lysana
The lowborn woman did not know what to make of the Stormlands when she arrived. They were not terrible, and they seemed to have their fair share of warriors and knights, but the land could in some places be barren or unforgiving. She had heard the legend of the founding of Storm's End, and for the life of her could not understand why anyone would want to live in a land that the gods wanted so badly destroyed. All the same, Lysana was here, in the southern parts of the Stormlands, to be wed to some lowborn courtier named Tommen.
Formerly, Lysana had herself been a courtier for Lord Tristram Sloane, in Fawn Crag. It was a small house in the Reach, and House Sloane was not known for anything in particular (few outside of Fawn Crag, even fellow Reachmen, had heard of it). Lysana did not mind – it served her purpose. She wasn't starving or worried about what troubles winter would bring like other smallfolk were, and Lord Sloane was a good enough leader. Then came the arrangement for marriage, across Westoros, to another lowborn courtier. There was no alliance in it, and nothing for Lord Tristam or this other lord to gain.
All the way there, Lysana's mind worked on what it could mean – and this was a skill she took pride in. Though only seventeen years of age, she had remarkable wits, especially in matters concerning the plans and situations within the court. She had grown up surrounded by nobles and knights, with their schemings and plottings, and she began to learn very early on how to read mannerisms, hear certain subtle impressions in voices, and gather information as to why someone was doing something. Sometimes at feasts and celebrations, when she was a little girl, she would go to certain members of the court and, knowing the wine had loosened their lips, ask them to explain what certain people were doing, or hoping to do. In this manner, she received tutorship in the darker tendencies of Westorosi courts. She learned when people were lying, what words meant, why certain promises were made...soon she could slowly begin to unravel the schemes of others by her own wits.
While she was trusting of people, she was cynical of nobility and religion, for both could make a person do strange things. She had begun to create a philosophy within herself that external matters often caused a person to react, which caused further reactions from others, and the like. In Robert's Rebellion alone, she had noticed all the tiny actions and circumstances that had caused the seven kingdoms to arise and make war against one another: kidnappings, wrongful executions, desires for revenge, etc. When the Lannisters raided King's Landing and killed the mad king himself, it didn't surprise her in the least: the mad king had caused the death of the city long ago, when he slighted Lord Tywin Lannister.
Yet despite all her cunning and calculations, she still could not figure out why she was needed in the Stormlands. When they finally arrived at Herston Hall, she was announced by a guard, and then led by a servant towards a large room. There she noticed that there was another young woman there. She seemed to be about her age, but was dressed in finer garbs than the simple, drab fabrics on Lysana's body. When this woman saw Lysana, she arose from the chair she had been sitting in.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"Lysana, of Fawn Crag," came the reply, "and who are you?"
The woman seemed to purse her lip and lift her chin a little. By her dress and mannerisms, Lysana guessed that this girl was a Stormlander, and yet she had all the pride of a Reachman, "Leona, of Hadlow Keep. I was brought here to be married."
"As was I..." Lysana replied, her voice trailing off at the end. It was somewhat intentional; Leona appeared a bit skittish, as if she suspected something strange. The Stormland woman glanced about, swallowing a little as she asked in a hushed tone:
"Do you think they are plotting something? Why did they bring us here together? Do they mean to harm us?"
Lysana had heard bedtime stories of monsters who lured women in together, only to drink their blood. She highly doubted this was the case though. All the same, she was tempted to make such a case, to see if Leona would buy into it, but thought otherwise.
"I do not think they would go through all this expense to bring two lowborn women here, only to undo us. Most likely, they have something to tell us," Lysana said, "though what, I am not certain-"
The door opened, and all conversation stopped. In walked a man wearing fine robes, with a strong build and the worst case of grayscale on his face that Lysana had ever seen. Leona blushed and looked away a moment before correcting herself and returning her gaze; Lysana kept her gaze at him regardless of the sight. The man grinned at the two of them, folding his hands together as he said:
"Good afternoon, my fair maidens. I am Lord Lorys, of the House Threedrop, of Herston Hall and Lockport."
The local lord, Lysana thought to herself, and he has come to see us. Yes, I know what is happening, now – he has some sort of scheme, and we are part of it.
"Please, sit down, and relax, no harm is meant for you." Lorys said these words no doubt because Leona still looked worried. When the two women had taken seats in some of the simple wooden chairs in the room, Lorys likewise took a chair, crossing his legs and continuing:
"Now, you should know that you are both part of a series of marriage arrangements I've made with my court." He pointed to Leona. "You are to marry Steffon, who is my castellon." He pointed to Lysana. "You are to marry Tommen, my current master of whisperers." Now, he addressed both women again. "I've married off most of my other small council members. My hopes is that they will produce good breeding stock for my realm. Likewise, there are other reasons."
Here it comes, Lysana thought.
"I'll be blunt with you two...my small council is miserable. My castellon is capable enough, as is my master of laws, and my master of arms is a great warrior, but the rest are terrible. My master of whisperers can't his spies, and my current master of coin is just as bad as the previous one."
Lysana ran a soft finger along her lower lip. Ah...I get it now...
"So here is where the two of you enter the picture." He turned towards Leona. "You shall replace my current master of coin. From here on, you shall serve in his role." Leona grinned, seemingly very happy with this prospect – no doubt, Lysana thought, it was better than blood drinking monsters. Lorys turned towards Lysana, "You shall replace my master of whisperers."
Lysana had expected this conclusion. She had seen it coming after Lorys described the pitiful nature of the small council, and she had to admit that his plan was ingenious: marry off his small council members, and use it as an excuse to bring in those who were far more qualified for the seats. There was only one thing she was worried about: Lorys was expecting her to marry and live with the man that she was replacing. Tommen would be upset at both her and Lorys.
"Now, I know this is a shock to both of you," said Lorys, "but I wanted to make this offer to you both now. Will you accept the positions on my small council?"
Leona accepted it heartily. Lysana thought a moment, then finally nodded. She had been tempted to say no, but she knew that, at the very least, here she could reach some potential with her skills. She had learned the ways of court intrigue, and how the lords and ladies play their so-called "game of thrones," and she was eager to see if she truly had the ability to work. If she could do it in the safety of a single county, she would be happy with it.
She soon found out what was going on in the council, and saw that Lorys had made some great changes to it. His former master of laws had been replaced by the master of Lockport, Mathos, on top of the replacements made by Leona and herself. The original master of coin – some man named Manfred – had died some months before due to illness, and been replaced by a Myles of Merevale, who had been married to a girl named Ravella, from Haystack Hall. The only positions on the council which did not see any major threat were the septon and maester, both of which could appeal to their superiors should any danger arise. For some reason, Lysana felt uncomfortable around the maester.
The state of Lockport's spy network was in shambles, due to the mismanagement of her husband. Tommen himself was a tad bitter that he had been replaced by his wife, but Lysana had known the women in court, and knew what to do. A few soft words, some assurances that he could help her, some strokes of his hair, and of course the great lovemaking that focused solely on his pleasure, and he was all hers. That problem was easy enough to solve – making certain she could keep a watchful eye over the region was another.
Her first step was to visit the brothels in Lockport, and speak with the madames about their frequent customers, how many girls they had, the names of their girls, etc. Lysana used her funds to pay off the madames and bring them to her side, promising more money if any relevant information that would prove useful to her was sent. Lysana's next step was to win over the servants of Herston Hall, as they would know the comings and goings of many of the courtiers and council members, and could serve as her eyes and ears around the establishment. She even learned from one maid that the maester had a lens tube aimed towards the beach near the cliffs, and Lysana planned to bathe on the other side of the castle.
The primary job of the master of whisperers was simply this: make sure no one wanted to do anything the lord didn't want them to do. It was a stupidly easy description that any child could think was simple enough, but Lysana had a dickens of a time putting it into action. Over the next few months, however, she managed to get a working spy network in the castle and in the city, and had even worked with some of the farmers to hire workers that were really agents working for her. These seemingly innocent smallfolk would provide her with information regarding mysterious or unsavory visitors coming into the region unannounced.
She brought a private report of these developments to Lorys, in the lord's private chambers. Lorys listened with eagerness and grinned, nodding quietly. The grayscale made for a strange smile, as if his lips were attempting to do what his own skin bid him not. Standing from his chair and walking towards Lysana, Lorys said:
"You have done well. This is precisely what I need. And I trust, if we ever have any problems, you will take care of them accordingly."
"Of course," Lysana said, curling her lips into a smirk, "I have been itching to exercise my skill in such a way. I will only be more eager to exercise it through a power such as this."
Lorys laughed, "Good, we think alike, you and I. You were a perfect choice for what I needed." He leaned forward against the windowsil, just beside Lysana, and leaned close towards her, saying in a lower voice, "Just what I needed."
It was an offer, she realized. She had seen it done in courts so often, she could tell when a man was being nice, and when he actually wanted something. How many times had he seen this game played by lords and ladies alike – sometimes even ladies to ladies, and lords to lords? Too often. In her mind, there was the "game of thrones," and then there was the "game of beds," and both could be dangerous. She had made up her mind long ago that she could only get involved with one, and nother other...and as it so happened, she had decided to focus all her energies on the former. She had no times for the seduction of some lord – especially the one she served under.
"If m'lord is finished," Lysana said, taking a few steps away from him and rolling up her report, "I shall depart."
Lorys frowned, which looked even more pathetic to Lysana, given his grayscale. He obviously knew a rejection when he heard one. "Very well, you are dismissed, Lysana."
She was about to go when a thought crossed her mind. She turned and said, "Oh, incidentally, m'lord, I would be far gentler on your wife – when you take her from behind so quickly, it causes her some pain. Try going slow at the start."
Lorys' expression quickly changed from disappointment to absolute and utter shock. His lips dropped down, and his eyes widened a little. Not a response came from him. Lysana had to muse on whether or not it was the first time the battle-tested and battle-worn knight-turned-lord had ever shown this expression. She had made her lord look agog and aghast all at once. This made her grin:
"Oh yes, m'lord – I have indeed done my job well. Be thankful I am serving you, and not your enemies."
With that, she Lysana pulled her cowl over her head and left.
Eglantine may be hurting every night, but I think Lorys is going to start taking the lion's share of the ointment for the time being just to salve that massive burn he just got.
Chapter 5: Lorys
It was October of 285 AL, and there was feast being held in Herston Hall. There were music, dancers, and more food than the guests could eat. Compared to what could be held at the major castles – Storm's End, Highgarden, or even King's Landing – the feast was hardly anything, but for those present, it was a welcomed festivity to distract them from the distractions in life.
The only depressed person there was the very person who had planned the feast: Lorys, the Lord of Lockport himself. He sat there in his chair at the head table, leaning against his fist while clutching a goblet with the other hand, and looking forward with a sullen look on his face. He had attempted, throughout the course of the night, to seduce many of the young women among his courtiers, and to no avail. Leona, Ravella, Malora...they had all spurned his advances. Ravella had even screamed, as if she thought he were about to rape her, and those guards who came to the sound had to be quickly scared into silence by Lorys. So there he was, now seated at his table, and feeling alone and unsatisfied. His wife sat beside him, wearing a lovely green dress with a poofy collar and sleeves, but he had little interest in her at the moment, and she seemed far too occupied laughing and clapping at the entertainers.
As he sat there, Lorys pondered the recent events of the kingdom. He had managed to save Lord Massey from King Robert's dungeons, but only to keep his wife from depriving him of what little physical satisfaction he was guaranteed – furthermore, he worried that he had played all his cards with Robert in doing so. Furthermore, word had reached the hall that King Robert had brought the seven kingdoms to war against the Grand City of Yunkai. When he first heard about it, Lorys asked Maester Dermot just where in the seven hells Yunkai was. Apparently, it was some merchant city in Essos, far, far away from even the Free Cities, even past the infamous Valyrian Peninsula. Apparently, King Robert desired to remove any possible enfluence Yunkai had over the Seven Kingdoms economy or...some vague reason like that. In his mind, Lorys imagined that Robert had grown to miss war, and wanted to don his famed antlered helmet again, and use his warhammer against an opponent who wouldn't go easy simply because he was a king. Either way, he doubted most in the kingdoms would waste the money and time fighting an opponent hundreds, if not thousands, of miles away, and Herston Hall would be in no way affected by this endeavor.
More importantly for Lorys was the concern that there had been no possibility for him to advance in his rank. He had been made "cupbearer" of Stonehelm, but the title was more of an honorary one than one which gave him any power. Privately, he thought of pushing to be made Master-at-Arms, but this was currently held by Ser Balon Swann, Lord Gulian's son and a more than capable knight. What hope did Lorys truly have in convincing Gulian to replace his beloved son with an unrelated noble?
Would Lorys be stuck in Herston Hall forever? Would he ever manage to rise above a simple lord of a small plot of land along the Stormland coast? The only thing that had happened recently was that he had come across a legend of a knight who had slayed a dragon with a Valyrian sword, and that the sword was supposedly kept locked away somewhere in Dragonstone. He had asked Dermot to look into the legend, and see if there was any merit in it. Lorys cared nothing for the Faith of the Seven, or the so-called fire god, or the many faced god (or whatever in the seven hells that thing the Faceless Men worshiped was called), but he knew with every legend there was some truth. He knew knights existed, and he knew that dragons, at some point, had existed, and so he hoped that there also existed a Valyrian sword somewhere nearby. Having such a weapon at his side would truly be a chance to increase his prestige.
"Speak of the devil," Lorys muttered. Out of the corner of his eye, could see Maester Dermot appear, moving down along the side of the lord's table. Without an invitation, he sat down beside Lorys in an empty chair. He had a grin on his face, and his beard seemed especially more bushy than normal today. Lorys expected the maester to say something, or explain his presence, but instead Dermot simply sat there and grinned all the more, eying Lorys. The fact he was eying the lord more than the lady sitting next to him suggested something was on the maester's mind.
"What is it?" Lorys finally asked.
"Are you fairing well, m'lord?" Dermot replied.
Lorys shrugged, slightly annoyed his question had not been answered, "Ecstatic."
Dermot lowered his voice, so that Eglantine would not hear, "I understand you had bad luck with some of the younger ladies tonight?"
Lorys raised an eyebrow, turning to look at the maester, "And how do you know that?"
Dermot merely laughed and said, "Maesters know everything..."
"And is that what you came to tell me?"
"Actually no." Dermot reached into the sleeve of his robes, pulling out from it a rolled up piece of paper. "Do you remember when you asked me about that Valyrian sword?"
"Yes – what have you discovered?"
He unrolled the paper, laying it down before Lorys. The lord snatched it before his wife or anyone else could see, holding it up to his grayscaled face. What he saw was a sketch of a sword, as well as a map of an island, with a fortress rising from the ground.
"That castle," he whispered, "it's..."
"Dragonstone Castle," Dermot said, smiling, "the sword is somewhere there, locked away and hidden. I am not certain aware, but it is possibly somewhere within the walls. The information is mostly cryptic, and requires to actually be there at the castle to understand it, but I do not think it is entirely solvable." He paused a moment ot muse over something in his mind. "Dragonstone Castle...a fitting place I suppose – that is where the sister humpers lived with all their Valyrian steel and magic."
Lorys smirked, "Sister humpers? You mean the Targaryens?"
"Precisely. The sister humpers," Dermot said, scratching the side of his nose. "But there you are...whether or not it is the same sword of legend, of course, I don't know. I'm not an expert on swords, save the one I use to slay maidenheads. But a Valyrian sword is a Valyrian sword is a Valyrian sword...so they say."
"Well, you have done a great service, Dermot...is it possible to arrange for a trip to Dragonstone?"
"It will be most expensive," the maester replied, "we would not be able to afford the ship that would take you to Dragonstone, unless you would take Herston Hall into debt."
"Can debts be repaid?"
"Most, yes..."
"Then I have no concerns."
Dermot nodded, yawning a bit and scratching under his bushy beard before adding, "There will also be the matter of who will be in charge of the land while you are gone."
Lorys frowned and looked about the room. He was unsure who precisely to trust with Herston Hall while he was away on a personal quest. He could not leave Dermot in charge, or there might be a new decree that all attractive women under the age of forty must run about in the nude. He could not leave his wife in charge, as she was too inexperienced with the matters of state. So what could he do? Then, the solution came to him. He began to smile big, which came across only as a half smile due to the toughness of the grayscale on one side of his face.
"Lysana."
Dermot raised an eyebrow, "I beg your pardon?"
Lorys motioned over to one of the tables down in the lower parts of the room. Lysana was seated beside her husband, eating to herself, and exchanging conversations with Ravella beside her. Tommen did not seem very well, and was frequently coughing into his fist and drinking his wine in a frantic attempt to calm his throat.
"Lysana, the master of whisperers," Lorys explained. "She will be my regent, while I am away. She is well aware of the goings on in Lockport, and has proven herself a capable administrator. Yes, I choose Lysana."
Dermot stroked his beard and nodded thoughtfully, "A pity she is rather flat, and her hips leave much to be desired, but besides that, yes, I believe she is qualified to be seen frequently in court."
Everything seemed settled then. Leona was not too pleased to be to be told that the county would soon be going into debt, but she promised that she could try to have the debt paid off within the year, or before Lorys returned. Lysana was more than happy to serve as regent, and had already begun to make arrangements for the transferal of power from Lorys to herself. Eglantine did not seem to mind at all, though Lorys could have cared less. In fact, he had privately asked Dermot to make one more special request for him: make absolutely certain that, on the ship, there was a young woman to keep him company. The pretense would be that she would serve as a personal attendant and maid, but of course the real purpose was to keep Lorys warm at night...in more ways than one. He was very adament with Dermot that she not be a whore, but that she be a woman who would under no circumstances say no.
Unfortunately, the trip ended up being delayed for more than a year. The reason for this was simple: Massey's Hook had gone to war with the Westerlands, to support a noble who had risen up against Tywin Lannister. To make matters more complicated, Dragonstone had gone to war against the rebels in support of Tywin, which meant the seas around Dragonstone and Massey's Hook would prove dangerous. Few merchants were venturing around there, for fear that one of the sides would take them for an enemy and prematurely attack them or board them and confiscate them. Lorys truly hoped nothing bad happened to Lord Maric and his sons, because, if all of them were lost, then he might very well lose his marital priveleges.
After a year passed, Lorys finally lost patience, and went searching for a ship that would transport him to Dragonstone – damn the storms, and the war. A Braavosi merchant happened to be willing to assist him (for a few extra dragons), and Dermot had secured Lorys a female companion. So it was that on January of 287 AL, Lorys boarded the merchant vessel and set sail from Lockport for the island of Dragonstone, where he hoped to at last find the Valyrian sword he so longed for.
* * *
Author's Note: As you can probably tell, I've engaged in that "Go find a Valyrian Sword" quest. However, as suggested by some of the background here alone, I'm going to be rewriting it a bit, and adding my own elements into the story. At the same time, I am not straying from the gameplay too much, as I will be incorporating the quest with elements happening in the game itself. Hopefully my readers won't care too much.
Chapter 6: Jorda
Those who are trained in the arts of healing can find many ways to further their skill: some can follow armies into battle and assist with the wounded, sick, and dying; some can go to a village and tend to the sick ones who live there; some can attempt to find their way into a court and assist the maester. Jorda, for all her skill and training, had found herself on a ship, being the personal physician to an insignificant lord.
She had been hired by men who said they were working for the maester of Herston Hall, and who said the lord was planning on taking a long trip out to sea, and required personal attention from a physician. They had sought her out, as she had a good reputation among the locals for her knowledge of herbs and wound treatment. Jorda couldn't blame them – she was, in fact, quite skilled at healing, especially for someone at her age. Maesters on their sixtieth birthday could only hope to come close to her knowledge and ability. However, she did not see being a personal attendant on a boat as a potential source of advancement, especially with a lord of such low rank – and a knight-turned-lord at that. If he had been Renly, or even King Robert himself, she might have cared, but he was the lord of Lockport and its surrounding lands...who would ever take being his assistant seriously? Still, there was good money in it, and she was promised more on the voyage back. In the end, she relented.
The ship was a Braavosi merchant vessel called the Black Nightingale. Jorda thought it the dumbest name ever, but knew better than to tell the captain or any crewmen. When she first met the lord she was to serve, she immediately recognized the wounds of grayscale, which had claimed a good portion of his face. She knew the cures all too well: limes, mustard poultices, scalding baths – anything which would get into the skin, open the pores, and stop the decay. No doubt this lord, who fancied himself Lorys of the newly formed House of Threedrop, had received that treatment along the way, for the grayscale seemed to have stayed its course and not spread for quite some time. It was a pity to Jorda, since he seemed to be an otherwise handsome man, and the gray patches on his cheek marred the otherwise perfect face, but there was little she could do.
They set sail in January of 287 AL, heading north. The captain, who had some strange Braavosi name Jorda couldn't pronounce, nor care enough to remember, granted Lord Lorys his room, on behalf of the nobleman's dignity (as well as most likely some extra silver); Jorda was given a small room above the captain's quarters, just above the front door, which was usually reserved for the first mate. Over the next two months of sailing, Jorda quickly realized what it was like to be the only woman on a boat full of men, with not a female for miles around. Whenever she left her quarters, most of the sailors eyed her hungrily, like lions ready to devour a prey. It was most likely the fact that she was the personal assistant of a nobleman aboard the ship that stayed them from tearing her clothes off.
Lorys Threedrop was himself amiable enough to her. He spoke to her often about this topic and that, and had her check his health every now and then, to make certain he did not suffer from anything other than sea sickness. He often did these checkups without his tunic on, which she imagined was to show himself off – though she did not object to it for the most part: with the muscles and firm skin, he did not fail to offer her a pleasant sight on this long voyage. All the same, she did not have much to say to him, nor did she often linger long in conversation. She did not hate this lord, but neither was she enthused by his company.
Then, one night, she awoke in her bed to find him slipping into her bedsheets, completely naked. She could feel his body pressing against her as he said that he ached for his wife, and begged her to please him. It was a pitiful tale, and she didn't believe a word of it...but she had other things on her mind. She was still a maiden, and she knew, from her studies, that the first time would hurt. In her mind, she decided that now was the best time to simply let it be done, so she could enjoy the times after that. And so, she relented. She lay on her back and let Lorys have his way between her legs. She squinted her eyes hard and bit her lip as her maidenhead was taken from her. Her nails dug into his shoulders as he went at it, feeling that pain still. When he was finally done, he kissed her, and that hard, stiff flesh on his cheek was felt against hers, which was very strange – it was almost like kissing a statue. She asked him to do it again, which he was only to happy to oblige, and by then she found she could learn to enjoy it. Thanks to this nobleman, Jorda no longer had to worry about the pain of her first night with her husband.
For two more months they sailed, approaching Dragonstone. They had planned to sail out of the usual route, towards the northeast, and then approach the island from its east, in the hopes of avoiding the conflict and any danger that came with it. It was then, in May, that a call came from one of the crew. Jorda rushed out from her quarters to hear what was being said. The captain and Lorys were at the side of the left stern, gazing out at something in the distance. When Jorda took a few more steps forward, she saw that, to the west, was another galley, moving towards them. And fast.
"Is there a banner over them?" Lorys asked.
"I no can tell," the captain said, in that thick accent of his. "This ship I see, she is sailing without a standard. What ship flies without standard, this I ask!"
The standard of Threedrop was sailing over the ship: a white banner with the three red drops of blood. Over time and due to weather, however, the standard had worn down, and become discolored. A thought occurred to Jorda's mind, and she stepped towards Lorys:
"M'lord...it could be they are of Stannis' men, and think we are a ship from Massey's Hook."
"And why would they?" Lorys asked.
Jorda pointed up to the standard. Lorys glanced up, and blinked twice in astonishment. She could tell he had figured it out: with the discoloring, the three blood drops of the House Threedrop banner could be mistaken three colored swirls of House Massey.
"Lower the standard!" Lorys cried out. "Lower the standard! Try to hail the ship!"
The captain was shouting now. He tried the Common Tongue, and he tried Low Valyrian of the Free Cities. Still the ship came, without a response back. Lorys watched with a frightened face, as something seemed to be realized by him.
"They're at ramming speed," he said, "Seven hells! They're going to ram us!"
The captain cried out a command to turn the boat. Jorda backed up, and felt the railing behind her. She gripped it with her hands, realizing that she had nowhere to run. She was trapped on a ship, surrounded by water, and the ship she was on was about to be destroyed.
The captain began to let out a cry, "Brace yourse-"
KERR-ACK!
The galley rammed right into the port side of the ship. The last thing Jorda remembered was Lorys: he was flying towards her, reaching out for her. He gripped her close to him, and the two of them went flying over the starboard side of the ship. Chunks of wood was flying about him, and several men already appeared to be impaled by the flying chunks of debris. Arrows flew from the galley, hitting the captain and many more sailors. That was the last thing she saw before she and Lorys fell into the water, and all she saw was blue.
A few seconds later, she broke the surface, coughing out water from her lungs. Lorys was struggling beside her to stay afloat, but that wasn't the first thing she noticed. Beside her, the Braavosi ship was sinking down into the water, split completely in half. It was an awe-inspiring sight, with the two large sections of a wooden vessel tumbling over and backward into the waters, filling with the sea and slowly descending into the depths. Men were trapped in some of the quarters and screaming for help; many more were toppling over the edge as the ship fell apart, their bodies riddled with arrows. Jorda could not see the captain, but could only assume he had not survived the arrow barrage.
Between the two chunks of what had formerly been the Black Nightingale was the galley, sailing forward as if to further divide its victim. As it went by Jorda and Lorys, ropes were dropped down, and they both were helped onto the ship by the crew. Jorda was unsure why the galley would at one hand destroy their ship and then rescue them...but her question was soon answered when she and Lorys were suddenly shoved onto the deck of the boat and had their hands tied behind their back.
"Two survivors!" a great barrel-chested man with a bushy beard said, stepping forward towards them. "We'll take them back and let them decide what to do with them. Might be we can get a good ransom for them!"
He was speaking in the common tongue – that much Jorda recognized. He also had an accent of a Stormlander – that much Jorda also recognized.
"Untie us at once!" Lorys said. "Or I'll cut you as soon-"
"Shut that one up," the captain said. "In fact, shut them both up."
Jorda felt a gag placed around her mouth – a moist piece of cloth that tasted absolutely terrible, and which stunk just as bad. Lorys was gagged about the same time, struggling against his captors and groaning into the cloth, still trying to speak. The two of them were lifted up and carried towards the lower rooms under the deck, when one of the crew said:
"This one's a woman, captain! And she's already wet...what say we have fun with her?"
"None of that!" the captain said, much to Jorda's relief. "We'll let Stannis decide what to do with her."
Lorys seemed to be thinking immediately what Jorda was thinking, because they both began to cry out through their gags, trying to speak audibly to let them know that they were actually nobility, and loyal to the same blood as Stannis. For their trouble, Jorda had a fierce tug on the rope bound around her wrists, and Lorys was knocked in the back of the head, causing him too much pain and dizziness to complain. For the rest of the voyage, they were kept below deck, barely fed and forbidden from speaking.
In June of that year, they arrived in Dragonstone. Jorda had heard it was an imposing place to approach from the sea, but neither she nor Lorys had seen it sailing it, since they were kept in dark quarters with no windows. All they heard was the sound of the captain giving the docking orders, the movement of the crew, the activity of other ships nearby, and the sound of the docks. Then came the sound of footsteps of a crewman, opening up the top of their den and ordering them to their feet. The two captives were taken out and onto the deck, and from there onto the decks and towards Dragonstone.
The town they had to pass through was abuzz with activity, mostly from the soldiers and sailors who walked about with as many banners as there were faces. Stannis had obviously called his bannermen to come to his aid in this struggle, and here they were moving about the streets, armed with swords, spears, and the like. Jorda had never imagined she would ever be in such a situation: hundreds of miles from home, on Dragonstone, surrounded by the bannermen of the brother to the king. She saw more standards in this village than she had ever seen at home. Yet as amazing a sight as it was, it was also a reminder that there was a war going on – and Jorda and Lorys had become unintended victims of that war.
They were eventually brought to Dragonstone itself. Jorda's tired eyes looked up at the sight, noticing the famed gargoyles which lined the walls and peered down in great numbers, while towers that resembled dragons rose high from the walls. It was said that the Valyrians built it with technology and architecture long since lost, and whether or not this was true, the fortress was most definitely an imposing sight. Great black walls shot up from the stone, in ways that few in Westoros could mimic, and those gargoyles...always the gargoyles everywhere, looking, peeking. They were too stiff to be alive, and too real to be stone. Jorda felt a shiver run through her spine, wondering if these beasts were to come to life at any moment and strike down against them all as punishment.
They were let in through the portcullis, under the gate, and into the inner courtyard. The first person they met was obviously a man of some importance. Jorda didn't know this because of his banner, or any special knowledge she had of uniforms; it was because the man was perfectly clean and surrounded by other soldiers.
"So, what have we here?" the man asked.
"Couple o' survivors," the captain said, laughing, "Massey's men...caught 'em out at sea."
The sailors took off the gags, and Jorda felt relaxed that, for the first time that day, she could open and close her mouth at her liesure. Lorys was less pleasant:
"I demand to see Lord Stannis at once."
The clean man just laughed at that, reaching out and swiping Lorys mockingly across the nose, "And who is asking to see him?"
Lorys grinned wickedly, and a gleam seemed to rise up in his eyes, "Lord Lorys, of the House of Threedrop, bannerman for Lord Renly of the Stormlands, who is brother to the king and Lord Stannis..."
Every mockery and laughter in the area immedidately stopped. The clean man probably would have dropped his jaw to the ground if his body permitted it to do so. He glanced to the captain, who was staring back at him with wide eyes as big as saucers. Jorda was quite certain both men suddenly felt very mortified...and very, very stupid.
"M'lord," the captain said, "a thousand pardons! A thousand, thousand pardons!" He bowed very low.
"Take me to see Lord Stannis," Lorys repeated, "and we'll see what mercy he knows."
Jorda had only heard stories of Stannis from his time in the war, and his service to the king. She had heard he was a capable man, but not a very likeable man. When she was brought before him at Lorys' side, Stannis was seated upon a throne designed to look like a dragon, wearing armor and looking as grim as any human could. Jorda hesitated for just a moment as she entered the room, unsure if they were catching him unawares or in the middle of another meeting. As she quickly realized, that was simply how he looked. The officer who had met them outside, as well as the ship captain, came in behind the two, and only when they entered did
"You are Lord Lorys, of the House Threedrop?" Stannis asked, in a rather matter-of-fact manner that was only a borderline question.
"I am, your highness," Lorys replied, standing tall and looking, in Jorda's mind, overly dignified. "I was traveling here on a peaceful mission, when one of your ship attacked mine. We were unarmed and sailing in peace, and we were attacked without even being hailed or given the option of surrender. After this, I, a neutral lord, and my assistant, an unarmed physician, were tied up, kept in dark quarters, and treated like prisoners."
Stannis appeared to grind his jaw together, and his stern eyes turned towards the ship captain, "Is this true?"
The ship captain stirred uncomfortably in his position, leaning from boot to boot, "We thoughts 'em for a Massey vessel, m'lord..."
"I am certain the next of kin for every sailor under my employ – and my banner – will be only more than happy to hear that."
Stannis' teeth seemed to be grinding so hard that Jorda very nearly expected to see sparks fly out from his lips. His fingers were balling themselves into fists and then let go again. He turned from the captain to Lorys and said:
"I shall deal with this later. In the meantime, you have my utmost apologies, Lord Lorys Threedrop, and I shall happily make amends. Please inform me of the costs for ship and crew and-"
Lorys grinned, and Jorda knew he was up to something, "Actually, Lord Stannis, I would like to offer you to forsake any monetary or personal payment, and simply receive one favor from you..."
Stannis stared hard at Lorys, so hard that Jorda took one step to the side, as if arrows were about to shoot out of the Baratheon's pupils. "And what favor would that be?"
Lorys crossed his arms, "I would like free reign to travel about Dragonstone Castle."
Stannis' expression seemed to only grow worse, and his voice began to growl, "What are you driving at, Threedrop?"
"Simply free reign to move about your Dragonstone Castle, with no one to interfere my personal assistant and I, and we are allowed to look under any nook and cranny which we like. Do you agree? I promise I have no interest to look into your personal quarters. After this, I will be more than happy to forget that all my men were brutally murdered because of a war they had no part in."
Stannis considered Lorys for a bit longer, then looked away and waved his hand, "Give it to him. But maintain your supposed neutrality."
With that, they were dismissed, with the captain and officer remaining behind for what was most likely a berating of a lifetime. As soon as they left the room, Lorys reached into his vest and took out a parchment of paper. Jorda could tell it was crinkled and faded a bit from the brief time it spent in the water, but, amazingly enough, the ink was still fairly legible. Lorys took a few glances at it and nodded to no one. With no clear direction as to what he was doing, he waved vaguely down the hallway and began to walk on, a very confused Jorda following behind.
"Might I ask why you have decided to forsake the memory of every sailor who flew under your banner for the sake of a stroll around the most depressing and bizarre castle in history?" she asked.
Lorys turned and grinned at her as he walked, "We are not going on any stroll...you see, I am here for a very interesting treasure...one that may have been stowed away for quite some time."
He took them out of the Stone Drum, which was the castle's central keep, and out into the courtyard. Lorys looked about, as if confused, as he surveyed the walls and towers that lay before him.
"Supposedly, it is on this side, and said to lie 'in the belly of the beast.'"
Jorda glanced up at the tower not too far from them. It was a strange tower, winding and turning, and with odd shapes at the tops and sides. At that moment, she realized that it was shaped like a dragon crying out. Of course! She tapped Lorys on the shoulder and pointed.
"The Windwyrm," she said, remember the tower's name, "shaped like a dragon...in the belly of the beast."
Lorys grinned and nodded, rolling the parchment up and placing it back into his vest. Hurriedly he and Jorda made their walk to the tower, entering it and finding, near the so-called "belly" of the dragon, a large, vacant room, going just off the side of the narrow hallway. Lorys entered it quickly, reminding Jorda of something like a child smelling fresh pie from the bakery. He glanced this way and that, then pursed his lips and narrowed his brow. There was nothing in the room except stone: damp, wet, molded stone; from the cieling to the walls to the floor, nothing but stone. This did not seem to deter him, however, for he moved to the wall and began to feel around.
"Perhaps there is a loose stone somewhere – help me find it. The treasure may be hidden away in a secret passage."
Jorda laughed, "Now you have me feeling like I am part of some legend. This is not some cursed object you are asking me to find, are you?"
Lorys merely laughed in return, while Jorda obeyed without another word. Her little fingers ran along the crevices and nooks between the stones and hewed rocks, finding little else but dust, moisture, and, on occasion, a disgusting bug. Across the room, Lorys did likewise, and the two continued until they met each other halfway. Still not disappointed, Lorys bent down to his knees and began to crawl around the room, tugging and pushing on stones to try to find whatever it was he sought. Jorda pitied him, thinking his knees would go bad in a matter of minutes. That was before one of the stones budged.
"Aha!" Lorys cried out. He tugged on the stone, moving it out of place and to the side. He fidgeted around the empty hole it left, and found that an entire section of stone could be moved. He lifted it up and shoved it aside, and looked down. Jorda let out a gasp.
There, before her, was a Valyrian sword. She was aware that many noble houses across Westoros possessed him, but she had never seen one before in person – she certainly did not expect to see one now. Lorys bend down and picked it up, holding it and grinning broadly as he gripped the blade firmly by the hilt. After a swing or two to test its balance, he looked at the sword again, and smiled from ear to ear. He was the child who had finally gotten a chance to taste that hot pie in the bakery.
"So that is what you were seeking?" Jorda asked.
Lorys nodded, "And here I have found it. With this, I will be unbeatable in battle, and my house shall earn the respect it deserves. I have found much here in Dragonstone."
"You have," Jorda said. She thought a moment, and realized what she had experienced on this long trip. Certainly, she had experienced pain at the loss of her maidenhead, and she had nearly died in a naval attack out at sea (it was hard to forget that), but she had found a lord who was cunning, brave, and ambitious enough to travel to a war zone and brave death in order to obtain a sword long hidden in time. After all this time, she had discovered that he was not just some insignificant lord, as she had formerly thought, but he was a lord destined for greatness, and under there would be glory and honor for all men who served him.
And all women, too.
"M'lord," she said, raising her skirt a bit as she bent down onto one knee, her head lowering, "I ask that I be the first to be blessed by this sword, in exchange for a pledge of allegiance.
Out of the corner of her eye, Jorda could see Lorys look at her in amazement. However, he was quick to break into a smile, stand tall, and plant the flat end of his sword from one of her shoulders to another.
"Arise, Jorda," he said in a loud voice that echoed from the walls, "you are now a woman in the full service of the House Threedrop."
Well, it seems that Lorys has the Devil's own luck in this little adventure.
Why does some little niggling feeling tell me that they're going to be attacked by the Masseys on the return voyage as well?
Why does some little niggling feeling tell me that they're going to be attacked by the Masseys on the return voyage as well?
I hope people appreciated the longer than normal update. Given how short the previous update was, I figured people wouldn't mind a little bit more content.
We'll see.
I've written quite a bit into the future. There will be something interesting revolving around Lorys' bastard. That's all I'll say.
We'll see.
I've written quite a bit into the future. There will be something interesting revolving around Lorys' bastard. That's all I'll say.
Chapter 7: Lysana
When Lord Lorys had asked her to be his regent during his long trip to Dragonstone, the Mistress of Whisperers (as she preferred to call herself) had readily accepted. She saw this as yet another chance to increase her influence over the courts, and to increase her skill at handling various affairs. In many ways, she considered herself far more qualified for this task than many of her fellow courtiers. Many would have turned such an offer away as involving too much responsibility, but Lysana only saw potential. Others would have turned it down in the hopes of receiving a higher calling; however, Lysana was much happier running a small seaside region than sitting on the Iron Throne. She had heard stories of kings who were "rejected" by the throne, and she had no interest in getting herself cut; the only cuts she had ever endured in her life were paper cuts, and she intended to keep it that way.
One thing Lysana had to deal with was the death of her husband. Tommen had died at the age of 34, due to prolonged illness. When Maester Dermot began to give him the milk of the poppy, Lysana knew it was a lost cause, and began to resign herself to the fact that her husband was going to die. Death of others had no real meaning for Lysana, as part of the strange philosophy on life she had developed. Everyone died at some point, she knew, and it was only a matter of when and how. A knight who died in battle for courage was remembered more than an old man who died alone in the woods because the knight had served a purpose that benefited more people. A man who died because he was a political opponent deserved to die because, in the eyes of his enemies, he was an obstacle, and thus his death served a purpose, even if not for the benefit of the victim. Tommen, on the other hand, had died of illness, and though Lysana did not rejoice over his death, and it was a strange feeling going to bed without someone else there, she attempted to push it into the back of her mind, and think on it no more.
Then there came the news of an approaching winter. Dermot assured Lysana that it would not be a long and arduous winter, and that it may be gone within a year or two. He even offered to take her up to his study in order to show the messages from the Citadel for herself. She would have normally accepted such an offer, but something about the way Dermot said "Come up and let me show you my rook" made her feel uneasy, and so she said no. He seemed thoroughly disappointed, which told Lysana she had made a right decision: a happy Dermot was a Dermot with something dreadful in mind.
In either case, she would have to attempt to organize a preparation for the winter, in case the Citadel was (gods forbid) wrong. She worked with the local businesses and farmers, advising them to try to store one fifth of their wares and crops, so that there would be a preparation should resources run low. Even if the winter was as simple as the maesters expected it to be, there would be no harm in letting the people have a brief moment of abundance as the storehouses were opened.
Lysana also had to handle replacements in the council during Lorys' absense. Leona, the Master of Coin and the woman who Lysana had met when she first arrived at Herston Hall, had died, and had to be replaced. Lysana chose Ravella, who had been another one of the women Lorys brought in through his marriage campaign. She was about Lysana's age, and a remarkably qualified steward for such a position. Certainly she had a love for money and luxury that would prompt a person to want to make more, but she also had a sense of self-control that Lysana thought would be beneficial for a city deep in debt. On top of all this, Ravella also had the dirtiest mouth that Lysana had ever heard from a lady of the court.
"Did you know Maester Dermot has his lens tube aimed right for the spot where the women bathe?" she asked her one night in April, when they were discussing finances.
"Yes, I was well aware of that," Lysana replied. It had been the very reason why she never bathed there.
"Oh, well, I wiggle my rump at the lecherous little bastard!" She snickered at that, "Do you think he appreciates it? I bet he touches himself all night thinking about it!"
Lysana cleared her throat, "In the meantime, we are approximately one hundred fifty dragons in debt."
"We barely make a hundred fifty sacks of dung a month!" Ravella said. "We might as well eat as such to save money!"
"Perhaps you could be serious for a few heartbeats, just for me," Lysana remarked. The tone with which she talked to Ravella with was one as if she were speaking to a child.
Ravella waved a hand at Lysana rather dismissively, but nonetheless she complied. "We make enough to pay off the good men and women of the court, so they can go about their whoring and drinking..."
"And enough left over to work on this debt," Lysana asked.
"And some," Ravella replied. Suddenly, her eyes lit up, "Oh, did you hear? M'lord's personal sword warmer is infected with infant."
Lysana raised an eyebrow, more so at Ravella's choice of words than any confusion on her part for what Ravella meant. Lysana understood fully what the new master of coin was telling her: Eglantine was pregnant, and with the first real heir the lord would have.
The birth is the easy part, Lysana thought to herself, it is what comes after that gets difficult.
Lysana knew all too well the games lords and ladies played with their children, as she had witnessed it during her early years in the court. A lord knew that his family's legacy depended upon his successor, and how capable he was; it wasn't like the Free Cities, where, after one capable man died, another capable man could be elected by a majority vote. If you heir was a dunderheaded, you had a dunderhead ruler. She had seen or heard of lords who sent their heirs away to the Wall, or went so far as to kill them, in order to preserve the honor of their house. History attested to mighty rulers whose great deeds were undone by the sons or brothers who took over after them. What would Aegon the Conquerer have thought if he had discovered his family's reign over the Seven Kingdoms would end with Aerys the Mad? Lorys was an ambitious lord, and he wanted House Threedrop to thrive and prosper – he would make certain he had an heir who would do it.
In September of 287 AL, Lord Lorys returned to port and resumed command of his fief. He arrived on a different ship, and was accompanied by a young woman who he introduced to the court as Jorda, a physician who accompanied him on the trip. Lysana noticed that Eglantine looked visibly shocked and hurt by this strange new woman, who seemed to get along very well with Lorys by their easy interactions – but Lysana was quite unsure as to what Eglantine had expected. When men were away from their women for long periods of time, they often found new companions. Only the eunuchs avoid such temptations.
Everyone in the court learned of Lorys' and Jorda's adventure: of the attack by Stannis' ships, of their captivity, and how they appealed to the justice of Lord Stannis himself. Lorys took out his Valyrian blade and showed it to the admiration of everyone. Lysana herself was not too impressed: it wasn't forged well, and was rather plain. Of course, it was impressive, but only because Valyrian blades were among the best in the world – otherwise, as Valyrian blades went, it was simply a Valyrian blade. Lorys could have it reforged...but not with the current defecit he was facing.
When most of the court was dismissed, Lorys drew Lysana aside to speak to her privately, away from both Eglantine and Jorda.
"Has everything gone well?" Lysana asked. She kept a distance at first, as she was concerned Lorys would attempt some seduction of her again. However, the look in the knight-turned-lord's face showed a rather urgent seriousness, which meant she was free from any sad attempts at wooing her to his bed. Rather, he seemed to have something else on his mind, something that only she would be able to solve.
"Well, there is a slight problem," Lorys replied, "you see...I rather lost control of myself while on the journey, and Jorda...well, I infected her with infant."
In all honesty, it didn't shock Lysana in the least bit. Some historians, when looking upon Baelor the Blessed locking his sisters away to keep from being tempted by them, called it an overreaction; Lysana believed King Baelor may have been a bit wiser than many gave him credit. However, she saw the solution as quite simple.
"Have you had her take the special tea?" Lysana asked.
Lorys shook his head, blinking, "No, not yet."
"I would suggest it," Lysana said matter-of-factly. She could only imagine that Lorys had expected her to be more "motherly," as she was a woman, and such sentiment was expected in women. Lysana, however, had grown hardened after much exposure and study of court life, in the same manner an optimist might become hardened regarding the state of mankind after living in the squalor and misery of a city slum. In fact, as a child, Lysana had been told by one courtier who was exceptionally drunk and exceptionally annoyed with her, that her own mother had attempted to use the special tea to kill her. Somehow, it had failed, and Lysana had been born nonetheless. The statement had driven Lysana to tears, but over the years she had learned to suppress it. Suppress it, though it would come back every now and then, and a tinge of guilt and pain would return to her and...here it was again, hounding her. Get out of me, you stupid voices of shame! she thought to herself. She wanted to scream the words, but Lorys was there, and she saw he was still too flabbergasted to give an answer.
"Take the special tea, and be done with it," Lysana said. "In the meantime, we can discuss other matters, like the pregnancy of your wife."
"Oh, is she pregnant?" Lorys replied, grinning broadly. "Well, I knew my little knights could break the ramparts."
Lysana grinned to herself. One child is sacrificed, another spared. How man mocks the gods he claims to worship.