The Time for Life:
[X] You hope for someone with links of Valyrian steel, for the higher mysteries (Special Actions Available, but will not gain additional bonuses)
Quality of Maester:
D100 => 92 #Quality of Maester
The Citadel had given you such a treasure, and considering the man you wished to have, you were expecting one with a few links on his chain, even the possibility to have the Great Mage himself, Marwyn, a man who had somehow still remained an Archmaester with many of his claims and theories on Magiccraft.
You had hoped for just a man who was knowledgeable for you to seek council with.
His maester's chain features silver, yellow gold, irons, copper, and one lonely-looking bronze link, but it is the Valyrian steel that catches your eye the most. His Valyrian steel links, however, was interesting as it was frighteningly… different. You were not expecting the great two lengths of long chains that wrapped around his body like a belt, and how youthful the man was when it came to his age.
He was around Oberyns Age at least, perhaps a little older than that. As his hair, despite being still quite a natural color, was beginning to ever so slightly see the whisps of age.
This man was of the North, that much was certain from his grey eyes and brownish-black hair, and pale skin, tanned from the work in the South. His teeth were bent and crooked, yet strengthened by the wire that he wore around his mouth, and that held his teeth in place while, and from the moment you saw him, you knew that you would get along famously. His most interesting attire, besides the robes that he wore, being a darker black color than normally allowed by other masters, was the Wierwood tree marked on his back, with words from the Northman Old Tounge written around it. There was also an air of passion around him, as he seemed to be excited for, everything.
If the man could talk properly. "War Gwace!" He said shouting, making you raise an eyebrow as the man realized what was going on, and why you were confused. "My. Apologies." He said, one word at a time as he gave you a deep bow. "My. Mouth. Is Healing."
You gave a nod. "There is no need to Apologize. Maester?"
"Warren!" He shouted with a smile rising beneath the metal. "My. Name. Is. William!"
You nodded. "It is nice to meet you Maester."
For a moment you both stood before one another, before he looked, first to you, then to the ruins of the Iron Throne, now just a chair with only twenty or so swords left, fashioned, not from the Blades of your Enemies, but of the Swords given you by your allies, the men you fought with that wished to see you returned, and Westeros Returned to Normal.
It was not a permanent one, but it was rather one that you used to show a bridge between the Iron Throne, and whatever you decide to create in its place.
Warren, for his part, was rather surprised that you had come to meet him. As he removed the metal contraption from his face, he shook his head, and you heard bone crackling from his face and neck. "Still not the best, but it's damn close." He stated. "My friends call me Bill."
You looked at his contraption. "What in blazes is that?" you asked. This was also a surprise. He was far more personable than you expected. He had an energy of, you couldn't quite understand.
"Oh, something a colleague of mine gave to me before I left, for a facial injury that I suffered. It sets my jaw and teeth back to their original position." He stated as he set it underneath his arms. "We are working on a safer way to help the more unfortunate lord's around Westeros with, misaligned faces to place them into a normal position. To help them eat, to help them drink, that sort of miracle."
You nodded. "Truly a wonder of our modern age." You found yourself saying.
That made Warren laugh. "Yet you asked for a man who is greatly interested in the more, mysterious ways of this world. It is only to better understand the world we live in."
You smiled, you would get along famously. "If only others couldhave your energy."
He gives you an odd look as if he was awaiting orders. "What might await me there?"
"As much as I wish to ask for your upmost opinion on numerous subjects, there are matters that must be dealt with. Matters that may require your attention for a great deal of time. You are going to the black Cells, and you will scoure them for anyone still left there. And if you can, identify the bodies for burial. And save any who still cling to life."
He did not need to ask for much. "Survivors?"
"Victims," you sigh. Rage has long since burned through the fields of your heart where it came to Robert, so now you are just left feeling tired, and regretful that you could not have come any sooner. "You heard stories about the Dragons' Screams?" He nods, and you notice him unconsciously fiddle with his chain, and for a moment, you thought he mumbled a prayer to the gods underneath his breath. "Some survivors were locked away down here. Many have clung to life, but far more met the Stranger in the dark. We've been trying to account for who's still there, who died there, who is still missing, hoping to track down as many as we can."
You nodded. "Can you do that for me."
William nodded. "I shall your Grace. On one condition."
You raised an eyebrow, annoyed. "What is it?"
"Call me Bill, please. I'd rather not be called William among this place." He asked.
You nodded. "Very well Maester." you pausd. "Bill."
You took a moment to gather your thoughts. This man was somehow a brilliant man, and so young?
Had he gone to the Maesters as a boy, and there was also the very logic of the chains he wore? Most Masters that had that many chains were old men, set in their ways, and not privy to wearing strange contraptions on their heads.
This man was impossibly young. Yet the Maesters trusted him with being your Maester.
But such thoughts will have to wait for later, you decide when you look out the window again. A Dornish ship approaches the harbor.
And your heart skipped a beat.
She was here.
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You're able to get down to the docks fairly quick, all things considered – benefits of being the king, you suppose. You don't have everyone yet, but you have enough of a 'household' to greet the incoming ship. Well that household being Warrek, who was still recovering from his imprisonment by Robert, Lord Tyrell acting as your Small councilor who had wished to meet your family, with his mother, of course, being close behind, On a Palanquin.
Far away from you. Thank the Gods, you didn't think you would hear the end of it if she was there.
And of course, Erbrion, who was flying above you, chattering away, and wishing to be with his two siblings as soon as possible.
Warrek was trying his best to argue about him being here. "I'm a low-born knight, a son of a bloody pig farmer and a cripple at that!" He argued as you continued to walk. "I do not deserve to be at your side!"
You rolled your eyes. "Who deserves to be at my side, is entirely up to myself Ser Warrek. Perhaps I should order you to follow me if it makes you feel any better?"
Warrek then threw up his only remaining hand in shame and anger. "You would like that, wouldn't you Viserys."
You turned back for a moment to see the surprise on Mace Tyrell's face, how there was a complete and utter lack of decorum between you and the man who was, in many ways, your first true retainer.
"The Fat Flower is a truly unique specimen, isn't he. Being able to be both surprising, and not." Warrek whispered as you stiffed a laugh.
"I think you should be careful my friend, we need him." You stated.
"I'm a low-born knight, what he can he do to me that you haven't done to me already?" Warrek asked.
"Well he could kill you." You replied. "Preferably by assassination."
"That remains to be seen," Warrek stated as his grin caused the Fat Flower to turn back to his mother. "Now you might want to-"
"Oh I know exactly what to do Warrek, I'm not a child anymore." You smiled. "Besides, I'm going to be a father soon."
"Aye, you'll still be the boy at that sept to me, lying his way into making people murder each other with your words."
It was the little things in life you cherished, when the nightmares did not keep you awake.
You slowed your step and were soon next to Mace Tyrell. "Lord Tyrell, you seem nervous?"
"Why are you walking, when you should be riding?" He asked. "We are getting out clothes dirty, and we are, among the more…-"
"Commoners, and Smallfolk?" You asked.
Mace nodded in agreement. "These people are seeing their king in a light that should not be seen. You are at their level. Their perspective, despite being minor, is important for your rule. You walking the streets? That could send the wrong message?"
"And you want me to what? Ride My Dragon everywhere I go?" You joked though it went over the head of your Master of Coin.
"Of course not, your not Aegon, and Erbrion is nowhere near big enough to be intimidating enough to be such a force, as Balerion was." Mace replied.
Oh, gods, he took it seriously. If this was going to be your fate, you should fire him, and save yourself. Stannis being humorless was enough for your liking, and he had the great. "Anyway, I must ask one thing? Aren't you worried that Prince Oberyn would be, not so welcoming of you being here?"
Mace gave a small laugh. "I am your master of Coin, I do not think the Prince of Dorne will seek to harm me."
He was right of course. You had a realm to run, and petty and familial rivalries were not going to last in your court.
And yet, somehow, you wonder ever so slightly, to make a joke with Oberyn in a few days' time about that. Maybe put something laxatives into the Fat Flowers drink. It would be quite funny, and it might help the man lose some weight.
But at another time.
You had your family to meet.
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It doesn't take long for the ship to be brought in, and a gangplank brought over to allow the occupants of the ship into your city. You hear an inhuman screech and odd trilling sound, and then watch as a body of green and copper lifts its head above the ship's deck to observe its new home. Apparently satisfied, you and Warrek. watch the chittering dragon Ñāqes launch up from the ship and join the other two dragons in the sky as the ship is moored to the dock. Your eyes quickly return to the ship, though.
The party from Dorne is, simply put, massive. Prince Oberyn alone is surrounded by eight children and a paramour, the mother of four of them. The young princes, Quentyn and Trystane, have their own small entourage but are quickly subsumed into the Viper's massive party. Oberyn, irreverent as ever, gives you a cheery wave and a yell as his group makes their way up the docks to you. The Sand Snakes, as you know their common name to be, have standing with them (and in similar attire) your sister Dany, looking windswept and tanned by the Dornish sun and as lively as you've ever seen her. Seven Hells, but for her hair and eyes, she could almost pass for another Sand Snake as she stands among them. She spots you and waves with a grin as wide as Oberyn's.
It was rather thankful, however, that you saw Aegon among them, at the helm, waving as he jumped off the side, holding onto the rigging, rope wrapped around his arm as he swung like a monkey from the Jungles of Yi-ti, twirling to just above the planks of the docks as he than let go, placing both feet down onto the docks, right in front of the Gangplank.
You smiled at his entrance, as you saw the Dragons flying above, and being themselves. "You know, I was expecting you to be with Stannis?" you stated.
"Eh, the Master of War was wishing to meet with Lord Lannister and sent me ahead. He'll be traveling the rest of the way on horse." Aegon replied. "Your Grace." He said bowing.
"Stop it you," You ordered. "We have enough common to keep this familial." You than turned back to Mace and his mother, who were waiting farther away, watching your dragons playing in the sky. "Present company included."
"So no pranks on the Fat Flower with Uncle Oberyn?" He asked, a clever smile on his face. If it were any other time, you would have hit him in the ear.
"Not unless i give the order." You stated.
"You are no fun." Aegon replied.
"I'm King now, can't be fun anymore." You jested.
It should probably cause you some concern about how much time he's spent around the rogue Prince of Dorne, but you're distracted by the other companions among the Snakes. Also walking intermingled with them is Beshka, who looks ... it's odd, you'd describe the look as "happy", except you've never really seen what the emotion looks like on her. But her scarred face wore a small, if hidden smile, and she was relaxed as she walked down the gangplank, and her eyes met you.
"Any trouble?" You asked her as she twirled the knife, the gift you gave her. The Dagger of Valyrian steel that you had retrieved from Valyria.
"What kind of trouble? Because if your talking about having to dress like a foucking whore, then yes, I have had quite a bit of it. I'm not bearing a fucking Dress, and that is final." She said as she looked to Aegon. "No matter how much you pester me."
Aegon crossed his arms. "I'm not asking you to leave your weapons behind, am I, just looking more presentable!"
"And presentable means absolutely fuck all when I can't move to protect my little sister!" She shouted, and making her argument known to the Prince.
By protocol, you had to punish her. But you didn't care for that protocol just yet, so you instead allowed yourself to smile. "I'll get something made that will be practacl and presentable. And Aegon will pay for it."
At that moment, the priceless face of your Cousin's nominal mix of horror and surprise was enough to keep him quiet, because instead of arguing, you waited for the last of the party to disembark.
And finally, walking closely next to Beshka, is a woman about your age who looks nothing like Oberyn or the young princes (who you presume resemble their father, Doran) so there's really only one other candidate you know of -- Asha Greyjoy. She has the eyes and facial structure of the Greyjoys you've met, but her dress leans more Dornish than Ironborn, same as her weapon at her side, her skin is even more tanned than Dany and Beshka, and there is an edge to her expression that you can't quite place. You would puzzle more on that, but then you see the last of the group, helped down by a large bearded Norvosi man (with, you note, an
impressive long axe on his back). Arianne Martell, now Queen-Consort of the Seven Kingdoms, is as beautiful as you remember. You do not remember her looking like she'd swallowed the moon.
For a moment, you considered making a joke, but instead you found yourself in a mood that was very… ideal.
"My Queen, you are as beautiful and refreshing as the Water Gardens themselves."
Arianne's face went from a smile to a groan. "Six months and the first thing out of your mouth is flattery, I was hoping for a joke to keep my mind off of this Dragon you put in me."
Luckily, you thought ahead and had another palanquin brought, so she needn't walk or be rattled about by a carriage on the city's … well,
abysmal roads. Or share with the Queen of Thrones. Though the idea of putting them both together for the humor had crossed your mind in the small instance you had prepared for, instead, you had brought another. It was a buy one get one free idea, with the Tyrells buying one, and you get the second for free.
Saving the Economy and Westeros, one shrewd purchase at a time.
You want to try and do something with that someday; considering how much better the roads were in Essos, you know it can be done. But not today.
You bring forward the traditional bread and salt, which you first offer to Asha Greyjoy. You want to be especially clear with her, given what her family's gone through these past years, and she seems to recognize that as she participates. Beshka's next, though she gives you a funny look, clearly unfamiliar with the practice.
"The fuck is this?" She asked as she took bread. "Feeding us for the road, it's not that long a walk Viserys?"
"Just eat it, please Beshka, and do not make a face at the salt." You replied.
You work your way through the Sand Snakes, smiling as one of the smaller ones (Dorea, you think?) tries to get more salt and bread -- apparently a fan of the taste, a rare oddity in Westeros. As you approach the adults, though, things change. The Norvosi man, who gives his name as "Areo Hotah" takes the offering fine, but Arianne turns a bit green and looks woozy as she smells the stuff. Then she doubles over, or tries to given the size of her belly, and clutches her stomach with an alarming groan.
Immediately Oberyn is at her side, and after a quick exchange in what you vaguely recognize as Rhoynish, Oberyn announces "the baby is coming!" and begins to hurry Arianne as best he can towards the palanquin. You're struck dumb for a moment, but a short one, and you take her other side to help her forward, calling the servants to bring the litter closer.
"I'm sorry about the bread and salt," you tell her. "Are you okay?"
She grits through her teeth, "I trust you not to kill me under your roof, if that's what you're asking."
You look to Oberyn. "I thought she was safe to travel, not due for weeks yet."
"She was," he answers, though his focus is entirely on his niece. "Three weeks yet, we thought."
Arianne grabs onto your shoulder, and for a moment you think she might break it. "It's not waiting three weeks," she gasps.
"Get her up to the Red Keep, quick as you dare to move," you order the servants. "You'll stay with her?" Oberyn nods. Satisfied, you look back to your assembled groups. "Ser Warrek, Beshka, you can take care of Dany and the others."
It was at that moment you remembered the Lord Commander, riding a horse, patrolling beside you, now making himself know, having hidden his men with regular clothes, with only a golden patch on their shoulder to distinguish themselves from the common rabble.
"Commander earn your pay, get us back to the Keep! Quickly!"
Then you're riding ahead of your wife and her uncle, with the City Watch as calls of 'make way', 'clear out', and '
fucking move' are made ahead of you.
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Your perception of the next several hours is skewed, swinging between speed and sloth, going long into the night and past the point when it theoretically crosses into morning hours. You know that the pace you set and managed was much faster than you'd ordinarily be able to make from the docks to the gates of the Red Keep, but it felt far too slow. Getting Arianne inside and to a room had been quick and comparatively easy, but it seems to take hours for the Grand Maester to be recalled from his work. But he does arrive, and after a quick apology to Arianne for how quickly familiar they're about to become, he gets to his work, Oberyn aiding him capably when he isn't worrying over Arianne.
Arianne Pregnancy Roll:
D1000 => 755
It takes a long time, and there's a lot of screaming and swearing in Common and a few words of Rhoynish you don't recognize ... but the context of the Common words in their company gives you a pretty good idea. Prince Oberyn's face shifting between concentration on the task, and impressed surprise when he hears some of those words and phrases also helps. The fact that Arianne nearly breaks your hand as the Grand Maester tells her to push one final time would seem to confirm your suspicions.
But then you don't have time for those thoughts. Because Arianne is gasping for air, flailing her arm slightly as she slips her hand from yours. And because her state is mirrored by the tiny, screaming creature that Bill gives to you.
It's your son.
As desperately as you might wish to keep the moment all to yourself, you just as badly want to share him with his mother. You lean down a bit as her uncle wipes some hair from her sweat-soaked face, and her exhaustion seems to melt away as you just manage to whisper, "Ari, look. It's our boy." Arianne's face lights up all over again, and she gingerly reaches up to hold his hand with you.
"He's perfect,
raqiarzy," she breathes out, a warm smile on her face.
You smile back, "Seven forbid: he'll look nothing at all like me and entirely like you." She laughs slightly, releases your son's hand to pat your cheek.
Well, you think that's what she intended to do. It comes out a little more like a slap and your face being mushed. "Flattery's a good…good decision for you right now."
And a moment later, she fell asleep, for a moment you feared the worse, before MAester William nodded. "Relax Your Grace, she's just exhausted, and tired. Let her rest."
You looked at the small bloodied child in your arm, and took a deep breath. "He's beautiful."
"The miracle of childbirth," Bill replied as he held out his arms. "I need to clean him and keep him warm."
You nodded.
Gods be good…
You were a father now.
What do you name your firstborn, your first son?
[ ] Aegon
[ ] Aemon
[ ] Daeron
[ ] Jaehaerys
[ ] Rhaegar
[ ] Viserys
[ ] Jaime
[ ] Write-in
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AN: Holy Fuck.
That took less than an hour.
Well, I shall say this, if anyone can figure out who i based the Maester on, you not only get a cookie, but +10 to the rolls next turn.
Also, you may notice that that 99 did not occur here.
That is correct.
That is from the world.
