Foreword: This is something that I'm trying out as my first ASOIAF fanfic.
Brief synopsis:
An older SI reincarnated into the second born son of Aerys II, born around 161 AC. As the second born he doesn't have much power, especially not as a child/teenager, and thus can't bring sweeping changes and reforms, and must instead look to other methods to gain power and influence.
I'm still not sure how much he'll know about ASOIAF, but I'm leaning towards none right now.
Also, I may or may not be taking certain liberties with things, but if there's anything glaringly wrong please let me know. ASOIAF is a huge world.
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Once upon a time, a man was cycling home after work. The front wheel hit a rock and he fell into the traffic. Or did he jump off a bridge, finally having decided to embrace the end? Or maybe he was murdered by a hateful spouse in his sleep? Not even he can remember.
That is to say, dearest diary, that not even I can remember.
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267 AC
Red Keep
Dear Diary,
I've just turned six. I'm actually quite excited to write this. I've been planning on writing a diary for a while, but yesterday I started writing lessons with Pycelle, so I finally have an excuse if I'm caught writing. Although, writing in English might raise a few eyebrows. I'm going to use the first few pages of this to record what I can remember, so the narrative will pick up again after that. There's so much that I want to write, and so much more, I think, that I don't remember.
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279 AC
Storm's End Tourney Grounds
I was breathing hard behind my blackened helmet. The ground churned with the stamping of my competitors. The shouting of the spectators and the screaming of swords, warhammers, and everything in between as they clashed was deafening.
A glint to my side drew my attention, and the shield on my arm rose in reflex. A new set of ringing assaulted my ears, fading even as I turned the shield harshly, whipping my sword around. The blade caught the young knight's sword arm viciously, knocking him further off balance, and I stepped forward into a kick long before he could recover. A second later the point of my sword was at his neck.
"I yield, I yield!"
I turned away immediately, eyes moving to a new target. There were only a few left at this point.
An immaculate suit of silvery plate caught my eye.
Brother dearest.
He finished his opponent with similar speed to mine, and I nodded to myself. Ser Barristan would handle the others while we fought, I imagined.
Breaking into a jog, I made no attempts at hiding my target. His shield was ready for my blade when I got there, easily blocking my strike. I punched out with my own shield, beating his counter-attack away and shoved my sword at him again. He danced out of the way, far too agile for my liking, but I recovered just in time to parry his blade away. We stepped back for a moment and circled around.
"And who might my challenger be, good friend? This man who duels me with such passion?" His voice was light and regal, as always. He was breathing just as hard as me though, so I knew this was getting to him. We were on about the same level, I knew. We sparred often enough.
But I shook my head in reply. I was wearing a blackened suit for a reason, and with luck, nobody knew who I was.
"Very well! I will find out soon enough, I suppose." He lifted his arms again and came at me.
The short break seemed to have done more for him than it did for me, his blade whipping out with renewed speed, but I knew how he fought. I ducked under it, and the moment the steel passed over my head I launched up, swinging for his turned arm. He spun away from it, the tip barely nicking his plate, but I had him. As he turned back to face me, my foot lashed out at his knee, and he stumbled. My shield smacked into him, then my sword across his back, bringing him to his knees. A ringing came out of his helmet as my shield clashed into it, bashing into him again without pause.
Finally, with him on his hands and knees, I brought my sword to his neck. He was gracious enough to speak up immediately.
"Good fight, friend," He nodded from his position, "I will yield to you today."
As happy as I was to beat him, I held no ill will against my brother, and pulled him to his feet, nodding back at him. I gave him a final clap on his shoulder and walked past him.
And finally, there was one. Ser Barristan Selmy. Fuck my life.
He was waiting for me there in the middle of the arena. His round shield and Kingsguard plate striking a truly heroic image. I wasn't sure if I could win this fight. In fact, if I had known that Barristan were going to be fighting then I wouldn't have tried. I'd lost enough to him over my life to know that his famed skill was not an inch overblown.
I heaved a great sigh. 'But fuck, I have to.' There was too much riding on this for me now.
I brought my sword up in a salute when I was a few meters away, and he replied in turn.
My step forward was cautious, and I tried to bait him out. He was better than that, though, I knew it before I did it. Instead of trying again, I settled in. We could wait here until the sun goes down, but you would not beat Barristan the Bold by rushing him. Better men had tried and failed.
A minute passed. The sun beating down on us, the crowd beginning to get restless. Finally, the King seemed to have gotten bored of our patience battle. A battle of wills you could call it.
"Just end him already, Barristan!" King Aerys shouted down at him, and Barristan nodded up at him.
"Very well, let us finish this, Black Knight."
I merely twitched my sword in response. Patience.
He charged forward, and in the moment he leaned forward my sword flicked down into the dirt. His charge continued unabated as some dirt met his visor, but his eyes had to have closed in that second, and the moment after that I was at his side swinging. Such simple tricks wouldn't catch Barristan without his wits though, and his sword flowed like a river to meet mine. I backed my own sword up with a punch from my shield though, and hammered his blade out of the way, just to catch his shield in my ribs. I grunted, and kicked out at him, forcing him back.
A simple twist later, and he had dodged my kick, bringing his sword around at my neck. I brought my shield up and blocked, pushing forward along his sword and almost like lightning smashed my own into his arm. The roaring of the crowd suddenly burst into my ears as if it hadn't existed before, while Ser Barristan's sword fell to the ground. I couldn't give him a moment's pause, though, and whipped my arm up to knock his shield away. His arm shook from the clash, and I smelt blood in the water.
'No quarter.'
I advanced on him, bashing his shield again, this time with my shield instead of my sword, then again with the sword, each time his arm shaking a little bit more until finally, it dipped. In that moment I surged forward, kicking hard and landing solidly in the middle of the shield, the force of it pushing him onto the back foot, and I followed with my shoulder behind my shield, knocking him down. Not a moment later was my foot on his chest and my blade at his neck.
He sighed deeply from the dirt, "You have bested me, Black Knight. It has been many a year since I was last in this position."
"Our victor, lords and ladies! Congratulations to him!" The crowd was screaming, and the King's voice barely carried over it.
I sheathed my sword and stepped off of Ser Barristan, holding my hand out at him.
"A good fight, Ser Barristan." He opened his visor first, shocked face looking at me, but reached up to take my hand.
"Prince Kaelys?" His voice burst out, but luckily not loud enough to beat the crowd.
I smiled at him, but didn't say anything else as I walked toward the King's stand.
"Come, come, Champion, show us your face! Let us know who has won this tourney today." The King commanded, and I obliged.
The crowd slowed to a hush as I reached up. The first thing to be revealed was white hair in a tight braid that fell to just below my shoulders, and then the hush died to silence as finally the helmet came off. My violet eyes met my father's.
"Good afternoon, Father. Fine weather today, is it not?"
There are very few occasions that I have seen King Aerys II Targaryen speechless, but this was the best one.
My first few years here were difficult. As a baby, there isn't much that you can do. Your throat and mouth aren't developed enough to speak, your arms and legs are puny, and you're a glorified burrito half the time. You're always slightly hungry, and sometimes your bones hurt from the inside. I remember it being called growing pains, but I also remember it not being proven to be caused by growth. Either way, I had them in my first life, and fuck I hate having them in this one as well. It shouldn't last longer than twelve, though.
So, yeah. Most of my time was spent sleeping and "eating" as a baby. I'm not going to go into that further than to say that I enjoyed it. Around 8 months I started walking. There's this cute cat that decided to adopt me, so I cheated a bit by using her as a crutch. The nannies hated when I disappeared, but I just walked around. The secret tunnels are scary as fuck, especially as a baby, so you wouldn't catch me in those back then. It's a bit less daunting now, so I've made a few excursions every now and then.
Anyway, it will suffice to say that I was thoroughly enjoying the rest and relaxation as a baby, but boredom sets in after a while. Once I could speak not much changed, either. I didn't want to be seen as a demon child or anything, so I just spoke a few words here and there. A year after I started speaking, I picked up a book for the first time. It's a bit earlier than most children, I think, but not overly unusual. I think brother dearest started reading at about the same age, so I didn't stand out. Father still held me up in court to celebrate or something.
Fuck am I glad he didn't stumble and drop me on the Iron fucking Throne, though. That was the scariest situation I have ever been in, period. Mother nearly had a heart attack. Rhaegar was inconsolable for hours afterwards. He's a good kid, he cares a lot about me.
Aerys, on the other hand... I have no idea what was going through his head when he did that. I've done my best to avoid him after that, but... He's my father. And the King, too.
Looking good so far. The prose is well written and I noticed no errors.
The forward and back change of perspective in time was a bit surprising, but it wasn't immersion breaking or anything. I guess it would allow you interject some more fast-paced content while fleshing out the usually slow younger years?
My only complaint would be that so far there is no visible story hook yet. You lay out in the foreword that the premise is about acquiring power through alternate methods due to being the second son, but not what that power would be used for, what the true end goal is. It makes it a bit harder to empathize with Kaelys, especially when he bemoans about having to fight Barristan since he supposedly he has too much riding on it. Seeing as how the diary entries are still only at his sixth year of life, I guess that we'll get to some character development soon.
The years are supposed to be 267 and 261, not 167 and 161. And the name of your SI sounds like you're trying too hard.
And defeating Barristan? Really?
The years are supposed to be 267 and 261, not 167 and 161. And the name of your SI sounds like you're trying too hard.
And defeating Barristan? Really?
Looking good so far. The prose is well written and I noticed no errors.
The forward and back change of perspective in time was a bit surprising, but it wasn't immersion breaking or anything. I guess it would allow you interject some more fast-paced content while fleshing out the usually slow younger years?
My only complaint would be that so far there is no visible story hook yet. You lay out in the foreword that the premise is about acquiring power through alternate methods due to being the second son, but not what that power would be used for, what the true end goal is. It makes it a bit harder to empathize with Kaelys, especially when he bemoans about having to fight Barristan since he supposedly he has too much riding on it. Seeing as how the diary entries are still only at his sixth year of life, I guess that we'll get to some character development soon.
The second part is actually in a spoiler because I didn't know what to do with it. I wrote it, but then realised that I didn't want to just start the story at the chronological beginning. Instead, I'm starting deeper in and will have little direct diary snippets for when it's necessary, relevant, or interesting. So yeah, pretty much what you said.
As to the hook, I can see the issue. It's actually one that I've brought up in regards to other people's stories as well. The next chapter is definitely going to have more in the way of explanation, I just wanted to go straight into something exciting rather than start with exposition. It can probably be considered the second half of this chapter, to be honest.
Thanks for bringing it up, though. It made me think of it in more explicit terms.
The years are supposed to be 267 and 261, not 167 and 161. And the name of your SI sounds like you're trying too hard.
And defeating Barristan? Really?
Yeah, defeating Barristan. A guy in his forties in a very heavily physical competition? The youngster has a definite advantage. Barristan is extremely good, yes, but not undefeatable. You may notice that he spends a decent bit of this concerned about whether he can actually win or not. He forced Barristan to attack on the King's command, then used a dirty trick to get him on the back foot. On top of that, he has fought against Barristan before, which he explicitly mentions. Barristan is better than him, but you'll also notice that he didn't win through skill. He won by leveraging strength and endurance. Barristan countered and defended against everything else, but Kaelys powered through him (arm shaking then dropping shield).
As to the name... Aegon, Aerys, Daemon, Daenerys, Rhaellys, Maegon, Aelyx, Jaehaerys, etc? Kaelys fits the pattern, apart from having a "K" as the first letter.
I appreciate the date shout, though, I missed that.
Edit: Another key thing to note in this is that he had the knowledge advantage in both of these fights. Neither Rhaegar nor Barristan knew what to expect from an unknown knight, whereas he could leverage years of sparring and fighting to his advangtage.
The dreams are getting worse. Or maybe better? No, I'm going to say worse, but with better clarity. I can remember more and more of them every night since I started writing them down. I remember fire. Blood. Someone gasping and choking. I reach into the fire. It's getting more urgent as time goes by. They all end with a sense of impending Doom. Some of them end in fire and ash. Others with cold and ice. I think I've figured out where they are pulling me. The birthplace of this House that I was born into.
Valyria.
279 AC
Storm's End
The crowd was silent for a moment longer, then burst into such a roaring fervour that I could feel the vibrations in my plate. Aerys' face twisted into the briefest of scowls, I could feel the anger and the envy in his glare, but it was gone again in moments. He smiled down at me and waited for the crowd to die down, even as flowers landed around my feet. I glanced down briefly and saw everything from tulips to white roses and couldn't help the smile that broke my lips. I could see why so many knights did this. Therein lied the issue, though.
I wasn't a knight.
Eventually the crowd was just a buzzing again, a stadium of softly humming bees. It felt good to inspire such a commotion, but all good things come to an end.
"Kaelys! My son! Such skill, such power! What reward do you wish for such a brilliant performance, my son?"
His voice was jovial, and I wasn't sure if it was forced or not. The reward for first place in the Grand Melee was only a few hundred gold dragons, but he must have been feeling generous. Or maybe it was something else. Either way, this was what I was waiting for.
"I wish to go on a voyage, Father."
His smile died instantly. Fake or not, it evaporated faster than I could blink.
"Aah." He replied. For the first time I noticed Mother sitting next to him, and by god did she look angry. There was worry in there too, but mostly anger. I smiled at her, and hoped she wasn't... too angry? Too worried? I wasn't really sure. Back to father, though, and I could see he knew what I was referring to. He was mulling it over in his head.
I waited patiently.
An eternity passed by, before he came to a conclusion.
"Very well, my son. It will pain me to see you go, but I will give you funds for your journey." He was a good actor, at the very least. He looked actually concerned about it, but he wasn't done there, "Ser Barristan! Knight my dear son, would you?"
Oh. There it was. He definitely wasn't happy with me.
"It would be my honour, your Grace." Barristans voice caught me by surprise, and I very nearly jumped in shock, "If you would kneel, my Prince?"
Without a word, I turned towards him and knelt in front of him. The crowd was quiet again, and they could hear his words clearly as he spoke.
"Prince Kaelys, will you be brave in the face of mortal danger, and all that may come to pass?"
"I will, Ser Barristan."
"Will you be just and wise in all your deeds, and judge fairly your fellow man?"
"I will, Ser Barristan."
"Will you be merciful, and protect all the young and the innocent from this harsh world?"
"I will, Ser Barristan."
"And will you be kind, and defend the fairer half of ourselves through hardship and danger?"
"I will, Ser Barristan."
"Then, with the power allowed to me by His Grace, King Aerys II, I accept your oath. In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave. In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the young and innocent. In the name of the Maid, I charge you to protect all women." His sword touched my brow, and stayed there for a few moments, "Now rise, Ser Kaelys Targaryen, and follow this code in all that you do."
The sword left and I rose with it, "Thank you, Ser Barristan. You honour me today."
In a quieter voice, he responded, "It is not often that I knight someone that has never been a squire, Prince Kaelys, but you have certainly acquitted yourself well today. I am proud of you."
I could only nod slowly in return. How else do you respond to that?
"Now then, Ser Kaelys, the reward as written in this tourney of Storm's End, in the year 279, seven hundred and fifty dragons, to do with as you wish. You may collect it at your leisure. Your further reward shall be discussed again at a later stage." My father spoke to bring the proceedings back on track.
From there, there were other things to attend to. The melee is the highlight of every tourney, but not the only part, and we had taken long enough as it is. The field would need to be cleared for the next event, but that held nothing for me. I had come to win the melee and with it the main event of the tourney. I would walk away with the main prize, and the "title", as it were.
I had other business for the day. I needed to get to the blacksmith that was finishing the last part of my project, then I needed to go and test it, and after that...
"Brother! What are you doing skulking away like a thief in the night?"
'Aaah, fuck.' Plans on hold, I guess. Rhaegar has a habit of refusing to take no for an answer.
"What do you mean, brother mine? I was merely going to pick up my winnings. And maybe go into town and get away from the tourney. And not turn back until I've reached King's Landing. I have things to do."
"Hmm, yes. Things. Is that related to the stuff that keeps you busy in your little 'office'?" He shook his head, knowing I wouldn't confirm or deny his question, "Either way, are you not going to take part in the jousting? I'm feeling a bit energetic after that fight, and someone is to blame."
And that's how I ended up getting unhorsed rather violently by my dearest brother. I could practically feel his smug grin through his visor, but rather than doing anything else, or hang around to get roped into yet another thing that I didn't want to do, I beat a hasty retreat. To the city.
The smithy's door rang as I opened it, and I walked in quietly. Over the years that I've been in Westeros, I've made many a clandestine visit to smithies just like this. Sometimes it's to the Alchemists' Guild instead, and yet others to tailors and merchants. I've had many ideas to affect the way of life here, but I crave control over all else. Self-control, control of my property, and yes, control of others. I tend to believe that I would be a good king, but Rhaegar has that spot, and he would be a good king as well. If it weren't for my pride, I may have been satisfied with a lordship. Instead, I can't be satisfied with owing my fealty to anyone.
Which means that I won't be spreading any technological marvels until they are firmly under my control. It also means that I'm not going to be content with Rhaegar as king, which only really leaves one option for me, somewhere down the line.
Westeros will be mine, one way or another.
"Good afternoon, how can I help you?" The smith's assistant's voice drew my attention, and his eyes widened when I turned to him, "Aah, my Prince, we ah, we have your order ready for you, if you want it?" His stutter was amusing, but I did want the parts.
"Yes, here is your payment as well." It's a small piece of metal, but the skill required to make five of them to the exact specifications that I had laid out is quite rare, so I handed the assistant a gold dragon just as the smith came out. I assumed he had seen me through his window, but I wasn't really interested, either.
"Your order, my Prince." He was smart enough to not ask what I needed five pieces of precisely cut metal, and simply handed me the bundle he was carrying.
"Good, thank you," I took a little measuring stick out of my pocket that I had brought just for this and compared each part. The final piece of the firing mechanism of what you could call my magnum opus in this world. The culmination of years of designs and trial and error, a weapon that I was intimately familiar with in another life: a revolver.
The first gun that I had assembled here was essentially a pipe with a firing mechanism. After that, I had made something more sophisticated, a single-action revolver. But that's not exactly something that I am comfortable using, and is slow to fire with only one hand. Sure, not bad when it's the only firearm in the world, but I had years to build up to this point, years of testing, years of experimenting, so now, almost as if in celebration for my plans aligning, I had a double-action revolver. Simpler in construction than a magazined pistol, smaller and less conspicuous than a rifle, if all went according to plan, I would never have to use it.
But it's always good to have firepower by your side.
"Everything seems to be good. Excellent craftsmanship, Smith."
"Thank you, my Prince, thank you very much."
I bundled them up again and left quickly. The sun was beginning to set, so the tourney would be coming to a close, and I wanted to make sure the weapon assembled correctly before supper. I needed to speak with my Father as well. A ship and crew weren't going to pay for themselves.
I asked my father today if he would sponsor a voyage to Valyria. I told him I felt the claws of destiny on my soul. He laughed, and said, "If you can win a tourney before your twentieth nameday, I will allow it." Somehow I feel he wasn't feeling too generous when he said it. But it is the best chance I have.
In other news, with everything that's been going on, I've been doing research into Valyria. It collapsed after a volcanic eruption. Or multiple. Apparently everyone that tried to investigate it since has died without a single wound. There are two options then. Somehow the fumes from the eruptions are still hanging around, poisoning everyone that ventures there, or... magic. I can't do much about the second, but the first... I'm working on a gasmask. When it's done, I'll hire some tailors to copy the design a few times. I'll need a crew if I'm to venture into Valyria, and I can't exactly get back without them either.
Also, I nearly blew my fingers off today. A little bit too much guncotton in a bullet. The barrel of the testing gun that I'm using very nearly exploded. I'll err on the side of caution from now on.
"Aah, finally back," I sighed as I stepped into my workshop. The one place in this world where I'm absolutely unbotherable. I didn't have much time in here, with my training schedule, but I could do a quick nitration of some cotton and wash it. The Alchemists' Guild would probably give up multiple arms and legs for the things that I do in this room. Guncotton... Such a simple thing, and yet so very powerful. I had an arrangement with Maester Pycelle to have extra nitric acid, also known as strong water, sent along whenever he gets supplies from the Citadel, but I also have dealings with the Alchemists' Guild every now and then whenever my stocks start to run low.
I dunked the cotton into a little tub of nitric acid and took out the revolver that I had assembled a few weeks ago in Storm's End. There isn't much privacy on the road, so I hadn't had a chance to look at it since, but I was really happy with my (and by extension the dozens of blacksmiths that made the components) work. I could live with the conditions in this world. Making sure that all your water is boiled before drinking or using it for anything like bathing, having a dedicated room for a chamber pot so that my bedroom doesn't smell like shit, getting clean water delivered to my room every morning. Hell, I'd even had a primitive shower made in my "chamber pot room", and used parchment to wipe my ass. I could adapt to the barbaric civilisation with relative ease - over time you even get used to the stench of King's Landing. The other residents of the Red Keep probably thought me insane at times.
But I needed an ace-in-the-hole. A "Hail Mary" card to pull if shit hits the fan. Enter, firearms. Now, I know better than most the dangers of spreading guns around, especially to an uneducated populace, but a heavy-calibre bullet will punch through plate armour easily. Although not all bullets can, and I had to adjust the amount of guncotton that I used until I reached a perfect balance between recoil, power, and barrel integrity, but I had a weapon that could punch through plate armour easily. It still kicked like a bitch, though. There's always a downside.
I spun the cylinder quickly, and took aim at the far wall. A pull of the trigger yielded a satisfying, "Click!" I really wanted to test it out in earnest, but I had things to do that really couldn't wait. I wasn't going to walk around with a loaded untested firearm though, and spent a moment looking over it again. I was really proud of the design. Not proud enough to rest on my laurels and consider it the end of my work, but good enough for now.
Speaking of good enough, I took the now thoroughly nitrated cotton out of the acid with some tongs and dunked them into the nearby bucket for a few seconds. Once it had been swirled around a few times, I hung it on the nearby rack to dry. The next step in the process would be packing it down into a shell and clamping the bullet heads on. But that could happen later.
'Back into the chest with you,' I thought almost sadly as I put the revolver away into its heavily locked resting place and took out its companion. Whereas the gun that I had just put in was a double-action, this one was less complex, being a single-action. Still packed a punch, but not quite as quick to fire. The only other weapon in the chest was my testing platform: essentially a pipe with a stock and a trigger that I used to test ammunition to make sure they wouldn't break my actual guns. I took a few rounds from the bottom of the chest and loaded them into the single-action, dropping the rest in my pocket. 'Safety on, gun in inside jacket pocket,' I thought, flicking the 'safety' clip onto the hammer with one last look around the room.
'Aah, acid and water closed, chest locked, and away we go.' I locked the door no less than four times, with four separate keys of varying complexity, and even a primitive combination lock. There was enough firepower in various chests in that room to blow up down the Tower of the Hand if given the right platform. It was just a shame that I was so limited by size. Discretion was key in all of this. Should Aerys get his hands on guns the technology would be out there in weeks. I did not want to be responsible for a new form of war, not when this world was already so barbaric. Maybe if I were in power I could control it, but I wasn't. Not yet. I had no solid plans in place to take the throne without needless amounts of bloodshed, so I would wait and bide my time. Destiny would arrive, one way or another.
The halls of the Red Keep passed by as I walked, large paintings here and there, tapestries and sculptures, the high ceiling and wide windows allowing a feeling of openness, almost as if you weren't inside at all. This was a castle erected by my ancestors, back when dragons still lived with us. Even now, without dragons, some of my family express desires to feel the wind in their hair, and the sun on their face. Closed spaces are uncomfortable. Not unbearable, but uncomfortable.
"Ser Jonothor, how are you? Is my mother in?" I asked the man standing outside my destination. My mother's chambers were large, and more of a personal space than a bedroom, which she shared with father.
"Aah, yes, my Prince, the Queen said she would be taking a nap, to recover from the journey." His reply was formal, but a bit hesitant.
"We returned hours ago," I said, knowing that Rhaella's, my Mother's, naps didn't last longer than an hour, as a rule. I walked up to the door and knocked lightly, disregarding the knight next to me, "Mother? Are you awake?" I kept my voice low, on the slight chance that she was actually still sleeping.
"Kaelys? No, I am not. Come on inside." If there was one person that I would say to love the most in this world, it would be my mother. Rhaegar was a good person, trying to be the best at everything, including kindness. He was the kind of brother that younger siblings would simultaneously hate and adore. Aerys was distant and cold. He was annoyed when I refused to squire for anyone even though I spent hours training every day, but I didn't rock the boat too much... until I said I wanted to go to Valyria. The moment I mentioned destiny, the moment something seemed to involve more than just the whims of a teenaged boy, his perspective of me changed. He grew almost... fearful. Threatened. I didn't let it bother me.
Rhaella, though, her love was unconditional. A warm light that I could lie down with when I was feeling frustrated at the world as a child, when I didn't like that I couldn't just go out and reinvent electricity, or revolutionise medicine, or anything in-between. Not that I told her any of that, of course, but one of the nicest things in the world is to be able to sit with someone and not worry about what they think of you or how they are trying to use you. Just to be loved. Even as old as I am, a mother's love is still amazing.
I nodded to Ser Jonothor and stepped inside. The first thing I noticed were the red eyes. She had been crying. My mother reached her arms out to me and I rushed to her side.
"What is the matter?" I asked quietly.
"Do not leave. I cannot bear to see you go." Her voice was shaky, as if she were about to burst into tears again.
"Mother, I..." I couldn't continue. After all, what could I say to this woman, who loved me so, so much, when I couldn't do what she asked? The fire's call in my heart was too strong. I would never be able to resist. It would burn me from the inside before half a decade was out. Ever since the first dream, years and years ago, the drive that pushed me to train harder and longer, day in and day out, to start making firearms, it was like a fire in my soul. Maybe in my previous life I had been less ambitious, or had slightly less of a drive, but in this one... The dragon's blood in my veins craved more.
We sat like that for some time, neither of us speaking. My mother's hand stroking my free hair brought a smile to my face, but eventually, all things have to end.
"I have to go, Mother."
Her grip tightened, as if she would hold me there herself.
"I have looked with the dragon's eyes, mother. My dreams compel me, call me, to a land of fire and ash. Our homeland. I cannot deny it."
I breathed deeply into a sigh, "I can only prepare, mother. I am sorry, truly, but... this must be done."
For a long while, she said nothing. Not a sound disturbed the room except our breathing, and the faintest noise through the window from the sea far below.
Until finally, "I understand. I wish I could say something, anything, that would make you stay, but I understand. I felt a similar burning once, before I married my brother. I would not keep you from your destiny, my son." She turned to face me fully, and reached up to take my face in her hands, staring into my eyes with her own lilac ones. Truly, my blood was blessed if every woman in the Targaryen line were this beautiful. Some might have qualms saying such things about their mothers, first or second, but it was a simple objective truth. Hair like spun platinum, eyes that wanted to embrace the world, and the most delicate features.
"My beautiful, beautiful boy," She said, "You make me so proud. So truly, wonderously proud." A thought came to her, and I could see her eyes light up a little bit more, "And to be knighted as well! Just like Rhaegar now, although, you certainly did not take the easy path," She shook her head, "I was so worried when you took your helmet off. And even before that. Somehow I just knew." Her hand smacked my arm lightly, "You just live to drive me to an early grave, don't you?" She was smiling though, and that made everything worth it.
---
So, this probably wasn't what you were expecting, was it? Well, I'll have you know that this isn't supposed to just be a, "Hurr durr, I am the greatest," power trip. I want to make these people more real, and give you a deeper look into this SI's character. He isn't me. Not really when he started, either. He's what I imagine I would be like if I mellowed out slightly over a few years, then got smacked into a body hardwired very differently to the previous one. The "dragon's blood" is his explanation for the things he has noticed that are different. A shorter temper, (which is impressive, considering my short temper once upon a time), a quicker grasp of new things, and even old things, muscle memory seems to be engrained in a tenth of the time it should be. Essentially, Rhaegar, Daenerys, all those Targaryens from history do, in fact, have a leg up on people. Targaryens are just ever so slightly better than normal people. There's a reason they've ruled for so long without dragons.
The trade-off is that there are very few mediocre Targaryens. You have a high chance of being great... and an equally high chance of being insane. Sometimes even both.
I may have made a mistake today. King Aerys, my father in this world, had a row with Queen Rhaella, my mother. I like Queen Rhaella, and it seems that I have a lizard-brain in my head that likes her too. He raised his hand in anger, maybe to hit her, maybe not. What matters is that I had a knife poking into his side before even I could realise it. The room was silent for a moment, and I told him in a low voice, "If you hurt Mother, I will kill you."
I didn't think about it. Oh, I certainly meant it, but in a hindsighted manner. In the moment there was a disconnect between doing it and having done it. One moment he was raising his hand, and the next I had just threatened to kill him. One of the kingsguard pulled me away quickly enough, but the damage was done. Or, "damage". There was true fear in his eyes when I said it, no matter how small.
---
AN:
And here I reiterate that the magic of being magical comes at a price as well! Who would've thought. Also, Aerys really doesn't like Kaelys. It's a miracle he doesn't dislike him more, but he was actually a fairly decent person before the insanity.
If you only need to wipe your ass once a day, and use half an A4 page to wipe with, you can use a book's worth of parchment per year. That's not expensive at all. At least not for someone who gets more money than a landed knight would every year.
Edit: Also, rags fine enough to be able to comdortably wipe your ass would be as expensive as parchment anyway. You don't want the shit to seep through, after all.
"Why do you insist on this, brother?" Rhaegar's voice broke our silence as we walked the streets of King's Landing and I sighed, reaching up to run my fingers through my hair.
I hadn't planned on spending so much time with Mother today, but it was still around midday and I had lots to do. I needed to finally pay the carrack that had been waiting for me for so long, arrange for a crew to be hired, not a captain, of course. That would be me, thank you very much. Although, I would have someone who actually knew what they were doing as well. Just because I'd had a few years to prepare for this didn't mean that I was ready for everything. A good eighth of every day for the past eight years had been spent training, which I'd increased to a quarter in preparation for the tourney. While I had been lucky in my fight against Ser Barristan, I had worked hard to get there in the first place.
What I wasn't expecting was for Rhaegar to corner me on my way out of the Keep, and now I was walking to the docks with my brother by my side, and Ser Arthur Dayne walking behind us with two other knights beside us. Rhaegar's squires, once upon a time. I didn't mind too much, although I hadn't planned on company.
"You should know this by now," I finally said.
"I do," He admitted, almost begrudgingly, "But it still feels like such a... a fool's errand. There are multiple reasons, good reasons, why Valyria is left dead. I do not wish to see you join it."
"What, in death?" I chuckled humourlessly, "If I die, brother, I die. Life has little enough meaning anyway. And in any case, I have prepared for this. You shall see shortly the extent of my preparations as well. Now that Father has acquiesced to assisting me and is no longer hindering my attempts at acquiring a ship and crew, I should have my voyage ready within the week."
"So soon, brother?" Rhaegar looked like he wanted to say something else, but settled for an easier question instead. Ser Arthur, I noted, was still silent behind us, and I glanced back quickly to find him keeping an active eye out.
"Yes," I said simply as I looked forward again. We were starting to merge from the Hook, the main road down from the Red Keep into the rest of the city proper, into Muddy Way, which meant we would be in the Fishmonger's Square soon and the Harbour shortly thereafter.
Rhaegar didn't know what to say to that, but I thought to ask our silent watcher his thoughts as well.
"And what do you think of this, Ser Arthur? Do you think me mad, witless perhaps, for attempting a trial such as this?" I was asking in jest, mostly, and hopefully the half-smile on my face showed as much.
"I could not say, my Prince. It is not my place to comment on your actions."
"Fair enough, Ser," I wasn't going to pull an answer from him, either. We fell into a short silence as we walked through Muddy Way. There were, obviously, many people walking, or even riding down this road, but the crowd parted easily for the two Princes of the Iron Throne.
"What did mother have to say about this?"
"She understands. She hates it, of course, but she understands," I thought for a moment, "Do something for me, would you?" Rhaegar nodded easily. "Take care of her while I'm gone. The first few months will be difficult, especially after the last few years." Rhaella seemed to be plagued with misfortune since my birth, and had had no less than four miscarriages and a stillbirth. Last year our brother Viserys had died a year old. The struggles had not been kind to her, and I was feeling guilty about the further worry that I was placing on her. Aerys was also taking it badly, and suspected outside influence from what I could tell.
Secretly, I imagined that it was the generations of incest taking their toll, but the Targaryen bloodline was all sorts of strange.
"I would have anyway," He responded, almost indignantly.
"You know what I mean. Spend more time with her. She feels lonely, and father isn't helping the situation." He raised his eyebrow at me, but nodded again.
"Very well. It is an enormous burden you have placed on me indeed, my brother. To entertain our lovely mother, such a terrible fate indeed." I could only roll my eyes in response.
"On a different topic, see that ship over there to the side?" I pointed to the far side of the harbour once we'd passed through Fishmonger's Square, where a carrack could be seen sitting in the water without much life around it.
"What of it?"
"Notice the underside."
He spent a few moments inspecting it from afar, "Is that," He paused, reconsidering, "Is that copper?"
"Indeed." As we got closer, the sheen could be seen well, with the metal going as far up as you would expect the water to go with a full load, and a bit extra.
"What..." He thought about it, "The metal could help it in the water, I suppose, but wouldn't the metal, hmm." He stopped, considering, "Copper doesn't corrode as easily as iron, so it wouldn't rust, but I don't see the benefit compared to a well treated wooden hull."
"Barnacles don't like copper." Rhaegar looked confused for a moment. He hadn't studied much in the way of the ocean, which made sense considering he didn't need to, but he caught on quick.
"And ships usually pick up barnacles over time, slowing them down," He concluded hesitantly.
"Exactly. I spent quite a bit of money on this, truthfully. I don't expect any problems, but the shipwrights haven't been keen to try it on other vessels until they see the results of this. It's gone on a little trip through the surrounding waters and hasn't sprung a leak yet, so I'm optimistic. If all else fails, there are multiple ports on the way to Valyria that we can stop at."
"And if-" I cut him off before he could continue.
"We're here. I need to have a discussion with Lord Velaryon, you're welcome to join me, of course, but this is fairly important. The rest of you wait outside," I motioned to Rhaegar's companions. I had considered, multiple times, getting a guard myself, but it always seemed... restrictive. I had my revolver for a reason, at least. And if I ever had to use it, I might be able to use the "magic" card.
Lord Velaryon's office was in a large building overseeing the harbour, which had multiple departments. Considering King's Landing was one of the two largest harbours in Westeros, rivalled only by Oldtown, there was much to be done, which lead to the harbour headquarters being quite large. Convenience led to the Shipwrights' Guild, the Harbour Master's Office, and the Master of Ship's office to all having a presence in the building. The Shipwrights' Guild obviously had their own headquarters further along, and so too with the Iron Throne's navy, but all I would need now was to sort things out with Lord Velaryon.
---
"So you want rations and fresh water to last you the entire journey to Valyria and back?" The sceptical tone, along with his raised eyebrow, made me consider that perhaps Lord Velaryon didn't think my plans were the best.
"I suppose you have a better idea, Lord Velaryon?" It was a legitimate question, and I was being sincere when I asked it, but somehow I could still feel Rhaegar's amusement sitting next to me, even without looking to see his smirk.
"Yes, in fact. I do." He stood up from behind his desk and walked over to one of the walls of his large office, waving me up to join him, "I am sure you're familiar with geography and the Free Cities, yes?" Without waiting for me to answer him, he continued, "See here, I expect you want to take a route similar to this one," He traced out with his finger a path from King's Landing down to the Stepstones, passing Tyrosh, and then taking a gentle curve right over to the cracked Valyrian isles.
"This route would, in theory, be the fastest, from the perspective of someone who has never commanded a ship before," Rhaegar was practically sniggering by now, "But there is a different consideration to take: the heavier your ship, the slower your ship. If you take a full load for the entire journey there and back, there is a good chance you won't even be able to sail out of this harbour. If, by some miracle you do, you will still be slower than a pregnant sow. On the other hand," He shook his hand for emphasis, "If you take a quarter the load out of King's Landing you will, at the very least, shave weeks off of your time. Then, in Lys, you pick up supplies for a full journey to Valyria and back to Lys, and you will still be faster at every point of the journey bar the final leg from Lys to King's Landing than you would have been if you fill your hold with supplies from the very beginning. Ignoring, of course, that a good deal of your supplies may not even last the full journey." This time, instead of going straight out of the Stepstones, the path he had traced went between the island that held Lys and the Disputed Lands of Essos, with a short detour into Lys.
"I see," I took a moment to consider his route, and he was quick to interject with a passing comment.
"That is, of course, if you even survive to think about the return journey. My Prince." He added at the last second, and I stared at him for a good few seconds, then shake my head.
"Of course." I nodded finally, "You will, no doubt, arrange said supplies for me ahead of time, correct? I do not wish to sail into Lys and have to purchase them myself."
He stared at me for a long while, and I thought back over what I may have said wrong.
"You are aware that any message we send will only arrive shortly before yourself, are you not?" He spoke as if to a child, and I was starting to get seriously annoyed. I could understand his point of view though, so I wasn't too bothered about it. Much.
"Aah," I just hummed in response, "Then I suppose I will have to pick up enough gold to pay for the supplies at each leg of the journey?"
"Yes, but no need to worry about that," He shook his head, "I'll have it put in your hold along with the supplies. Your quartermaster will be well aware of it, as well as his duties."
He hadn't had enough time to put together a crew, but we had already discussed the subject. He would be looking for navy veterans first and foremost, then people who had served on other types of ships. I made sure that he would ensure that they were all well aware of our planned journey. I wouldn't want my crew to desert me or even attempt mutiny at the thought of sailing into the Smoking Sea. There were superstitions and mysteries surrounding the area, some more valid than others, and sailors were a superstitious lot.
"What else would you recommend, Master of Ships?"
It would be a while still until Rhaegar and I walked out of Lord Velaryon's office, and there was still more to do. I did have a fancy little note saying that I was the owner of a lovely carrack that I decided to rename the Homecoming. It felt fitting.
"One last thing to do today, brother. If you want to stay with me, that is."
"If you tell me, I will consider it, Kaelys. It is getting rather late, although it was fun watching your conversation with Lord Velaryon." I felt like the memory was going to keep him amused until I got back from Valyria, so it was just as well.
"I'm going to be arranging the last crucial part of this journey: something that should allow us to survive the Smoking Sea and the supposedly toxic air of Valyria."
"Some sort of magic, then?" It was obviously a jest.
"No, something I devised myself. A full-body suit of leather treated to be airtight, with a mask that will filter the air. I have done experiments based on what I believe the cause of so many deaths in the Smoking Sea to be. The mask should protect us. We will only have to wear the suits once we enter the Smoking Sea, although while it is possible that only the masks will be necessary, I don't want to take any risks."
"I suppose I can join you to go see them. To be able to laugh at you a bit more, if nothing else."
"Shove off." I pushed his shoulder roughly as we walked off, Rhaegar's guards falling in around us again.
"Remind me again why we aren't riding?"
"Because I'm bored."
It also gave me an excuse to hand out a silver here and there as we passed into the more destitute areas of the city, although firmly avoiding Flea Bottom. I would most definitely get more guards if we needed to go into there, that's not to say that I didn't of course. In the past I had spent more than a few days walking around in Flea Bottom with some guards, looking for the worst off areas and seeing about what could be done to help. It was a drop in the ocean, of course, but it felt good to at least improve a few people's lives.
Which was why, I supposed, I needed the throne so much. Or at least, a moral justification for my contemplation of it. There was so much that I could do to help these people, but with Aerys as king, and no true power to my name... It was a simple calculus.
---
AN:
I had wanted to say something here, but I forgot what it was.
Fake edit: Oh, right. I mentioned somewhere that I wasn't going to be introducing anything else modern just yet (apart from the firearms and gas masks), but copper sheathing is just too useful and easy to avoid. It's literally just bolting copper plates onto the existing ship's hull (okay, a bit more intricate than that), so it doesn't introduce a hell of a lot of risk. The ship has been standing for a few months now, though, so it's not like it's a huge risk compared to the benefits (speed and less hull loss due to barnacles, etc).
I've found a suitable ship for a journey to Valyria - mostly suitable, at least. I wanted to ask Lord Lucerys Velaryon to procure a vessel similar to it, but was stymied by my father. He has commanded Lord Velaryon to rebuff any attempts of mine to get his hands on a ship, which means I will need to go directly to the shipbuilders. There are a few carracks in the dry docks that have been listed for sale, either due to being sold by their previous owners, not being paid for in full after commission, or even defaulting on a loan. I've paid a rather large sum of money (50 gold dragons) for the ship to be kept for me in the dry dock until such a time as I can purchase it. There is a tourney being held in Storm's End next year, if I can win it then my father will be obligated (I hope), to supply me with the funds required to do so.
I have toyed with the idea of copper sheathing the ship in preparation for a journey to Valyria, and calculated the cost to be around 500 dragons, based purely on the weight of a penny. Using a rough centimeter, I created a scale against a kilogram of water, which I then used to compare to the copper of a penny. If it takes around 65 tons of copper to sheath a carrack's hull adequately and replace every ferrous screw, nail, or etc along the bottom of the hull with copper, it will take approximately 4,718,520 copper pennies, or just over 400 gold dragons. I'll have to save for the next few months, but I should be able to pay for it a few months before the tourney. With luck, and skilled shipwrights, it will be complete by the time I have my father's monetary assistance. Of course, in order for them to work on the ship in the first place without me owning it I had to provide some incentive, and a few more dragons went towards fixing some of the other issues, but that would have to have been done when I bought it anyway, so it's no real loss to me.
If my father doesn't agree to help me, or I lose the tourney, I may be forced to take out a loan. I would very much rather not be in debt, however.
In different news, Aerys returned from Duskendale safe and sound this morning. Rhaegar had gone with him and between the two of them they reached a rather favourable deal with Lord Denys, although he had to be punished for refusing to pay taxes. I wasn't privy to the full details: I feel like father has grown closer to Rhaegar and further from me. Not that I ever tried to be close to him in the first place, but such is life. Maybe he's finally accepted that Rhaegar will need to take the throne some day and is trying to prepare him for that? The loss of Viserys may have affected him more than I had realised.
The water roared faintly as it met the docks and the ships around us. The strong smell of saltwater barely breaking through the even stronger stench of King's Landing. It was always a relief to leave, and always a regret to return to this. My crew bustled around me, my First Mate, Corwyn Waters, commanding them around like he was born to it. Which, to be fair, he kind of was with a father like Lucerys Velaryon. Men scurried up and down the rigging, preparing the sails, ropes were tied and untied, and the final bit of cargo was coming on board. Harran was waiting impatiently for the last crate to arrive so that he could mark it off of his quartermaster's list. He was doing good work, I would give Lucerys that. In fact, all the crew that I had met so far seemed exceptionally professional, something I was very glad of. I had never spent a journey on a ship as anything other than a passenger before, and the more that they could handle without my input, the better.
I cast my gaze over the port. I was sure that I cut an impressive figure for the large crowd gathered on the pier. Standing on the side of the quarterdeck, braided silvery hair blowing in the wind, a well-tailored coat on my shoulders, and a sword by my side. Everyone from the smallfolk of King's Landing to the Court of the Red Keep was here to see me off. My family was easily recognisable. The King's disapproving gaze met mine for a second and he shook his head ever so slightly. At the last moment, his eyes softened the tiniest of amounts. I was not sure what to make of it. My Mother's face was a mixture between distraught and determined. I knew that it was difficult for her. It had to be done anyway. I had left a silver-cast flower for her that I could see being clutched in her hands. Her eyes were locked onto my face the entire time, and I smiled gently at her while she tried to return it.
Finally there stood my brother. He looked mildly sad to see me go, but he smiled widely as I met his eyes. At least someone was happy for me. Looking to the side, I called out.
"Corwyn, how fares the preparation?" My voice cut through the noise of the ship, but I doubted it reached the folk on the pier.
"We are ready to set sail on your word, Captain!" He shouted from the deck where he was pushing people around, and I smiled. We had spoken about that; for as long as I was on the ship and off of Westeros, nobody would call me Prince, or any other title but Captain. I would not want people to take an interest in the Targaryen Prince sailing around with only a single ship after all. I nodded at my First Mate before turning again to find Harran.
"Quartermaster, a moment!" He looked up sharply from his list and strolled over to me.
"Captain?" Harran was a grizzled man, with a slightly deep, gravelly voice and a salt-and-pepper beard at least a hand long. I had half an idea that he was from the Iron Islands, but he could have been a Stormlander too. Velaryon had chosen him specifically, so I was not afraid that he would stab me in the back. Unless that had been a part of his mission. I shook myself from going down that line of thought.
"Did my crates arrive?"
He raised an eyebrow and I could almost see him contemplating a sarcastic retort before thinking better of it.
"The very specifically unmarked ones that took five men to move each and nearly broke one of the boys' backs?" He waited a moment, "Aye, they were put down where you wanted, too."
"Good man," I nodded at him, "Everything else prepared and in order?" He nodded back. "Excellent." He looked down at his list one more time, then went back to the men.
"First Mate!" Corwyn's head turned to me again eagerly. "You have my word! Get us away!"
"Aye, Captain!"
I turned my gaze to look back at King's Landing one more time, and, with a wave, walked closer to the wheel as the navigator stepped up to take it.
---
Until now, I had never been on truly rough seas. It is safer and almost quicker to get to Storm's End via the Kingswood than by sea, and going down to Dorne is usually done by land unless in larger fleets due to the proximity of the Stepstones and pirates. Travelling North of King's Landing via ship typically only sees relatively calm seas, and for the rest of Westeros land-travel is the most convenient.
Which is why I found myself tied sitting against the railing on the quarterdeck with my back to the ocean while I watched Corwyn and the navigator maintaining our heading in the middle of a storm. My stomach was reeling, not quite vomiting, but the rolling of the ship in the winds and waves is like suddenly dropping a few meters in an elevator, then going up again. Only, you are doing it repeatedly, across tens of meters, while rocking sideways as well. Shipbreaker Bay earnt its name well, even just at the mouths.
"Corwyn, how are we faring?" I had to shout to have my voice heard over the storm.
He shouted something at one of the men on the deck before replying.
"Could be better, Captain, but we will be out of this storm before dark, Seven willing, and through to Tyrosh mayhaps a day or two later. It would depend on how far the winds have blown us." Corwyn was a good man. Surprisingly pious for a bastard Velaryon, and a sailor besides, but it was not unwelcome. I nodded at him in reply, and he turned back to managing the crew.
Once I felt a bit more comfortable, I tried standing again. My balance was fine, but physical balance is only one part of getting your sea legs. The other parts are in your skull and stomach, and it is always worse when you are standing. I had to get used to it eventually though, so I quietly struggled to my feet while the crew struggled to keep the ship facing into the waves. A swell rocked the ship a bit and I stumbled, but stayed on my feet with my hand on the railing.
"Your sea legs growing in, Captain?" The rough voice from the side shocked me a bit, Harran appearing fairly out of thin air.
"Seven above, Harran!" I exclaimed, "Do you want to have me overboard, man?"
He laughed.
"No, but you seemed to be holding yourself well enough. We shall have you stalking the decks soon enough, storm or no." He was in decent enough spirits, considering our situation.
"What do you need, Quartermaster?" The smile faded slightly from his face as I got to business, growing a bit more serious.
"I have been through the ship and made certain that everything is fixed proper to the deck. Nothing will be falling about without my order. Your "fixture" is mounted and covered right and proper on the bow, along with those crates of yours. Not to be doubting you, Captain, but I am not certain what you plan to do with it." He sounded slightly disapproving. Which was fair enough, I supposed. I was about to repond before something caught my eye and my heart sank slightly.
"You may find out sooner, rather than later."
"Corwyn!" I yelled out, just as another voice rang.
"Captain! Captain! Ship starboard!" I could not recall his name. Jos-something or other. The look-out on shift, I wagered.
I pointed at it through the crashing waves as it turned to us slowly. From this distance it looked like a mighty ship. There was scant hope that it was not a pirate ship. Not this close to the Stepstones, and not turning directly to us.
"They have seen us," I muttered. "Corwyn! Try and turn us around. Get our bow facing them if you can!" He looked at me piercingly, then nodded finally, turning back to his duties. "Harran, get a man to help me and join me at the bow." My voice brooked no argument, even as I walked along the side with my hand on the railing.
"Aye, Captain." He spoke solemnly, and headed off to grab a hold of someone who had less important things to do.
My hand ran along the railing as I walked and watched the approaching ship. I was proud of this vessel, to be honest. The coppered hull had already shown its benefits getting us here, and I loved the fact that it was in my name alone. I certainly did not want it damaged or taken by pirates, not to mention what that would mean for myself.
The "fixture" as I had referred to it when asked about it previously, was a simple thing. A hefty chunk of steel about a meter and a half long, mounted strongly in a slightly swivelling base, with a covered hole in the one side, and a peg jutting out of the otherwise solid steel of the other. Something nobody in this world had ever seen before.
I whipped off the covering and opened the side of one of the crates slightly, pulling out a hammer and holding it tightly while I started to turn the wheel on the side to align the barrel. Glancing up at the approaching vessel, I judged some distances roughly.
"Where the blazes is Harran?" I muttered while struggling to handle a cannon by myself.
"Here, Captain," His damned voice shocked the life out of me again, and I swore, nearly dropping the hammer.
"Bloody hells!" I caught my breath, "Good. You!" I pointed at the man he brought with me. Another name I could not remember. I would have to learn them sooner rather than later. "Help me here. Harran, watch what I am doing first." I turned the wheel more, and the base turned slightly, then moved over to the other side to turn another wheel, and the barrel lifted a bit.
"See that?" I asked.
"Aye, Capt-" He answered and I cut him off.
"Good, get the barrel to about here, and aim it straight at that mess of wood floating out there." I gestured with my hand to about where I wanted the barrel, and turned away from him the moment I saw understanding in his eyes.
"You, I will get your name again later," I spoke to the man Harran had brought, and reached into the crate next to me, getting my hands on a heavy, ogival chunk of copper-coated iron. "You need to," I broke off with a grunt as I lifted the hefty thing, "Take this," I passed it to him, and picked up an oiled sack, "And put it into the hole after this," I held up the sack. "Got it?"
He nodded, and I flipped the cover up off the barrel and threw the sack of "gunpowder", it was close as I could get it, really, down the hole, pushing in to the end with the hammer. I stepped to the side and gestured to the man.
"In it goes." I was impatient, and my voice conveyed that. I looked over to see the ship a bit closer than it was earlier. Steadily creeping forward.
The "shell" that was actually just a shaped cannonball with a bit of copper to interact with the cannon's rifled barrel slid into it, and I pushed it in the rest of the way. It was a shame I did not have time to design something that could allow something like breech loading, but it could not be helped. The cannon itself was last minute, and a very simple design reflected that.
One last push with the hammer and it was ready to fire. Hopefully.
"Move over to the crate, do not let the insides get wet," I told the sailor as I walked around to the back of the cannon. Looking past the barrel at the pirates, I roughly estimated the angle the round could take.
"Harran, a turn it a touch to the side and lift it slightly."
"Got it, Captain." His reply was just as rough as my order. A minute later, and it was as aligned as I could hope for now. It would be a range-finder shot anyway, but you could always get lucky.
"Good work, now get behind the crates and close your ears." I pulled some wax out of my coat and stuffed it into my own ears. I kept it on me for firing the revolvers, but it would be even better for this. The questions were painted on Harran's face, as well as the sailor he brought to help us, but a sharp look sent him pulling the man behind the crates with him.
I hefted the hammer and breathed in slowly, judging the distance to the firing peg. A simple little device that made a spark when hammered in, I had not had the time to automate the system the way I wanted it.
The sound of the storm still raged around us, the waves crashing, the wind howling, the rain pouring, all muted to my ears. Sea foam blowing here and there. The approaching ship's flags were recognisable now, and I could almost imagine seeing people hefting weapons and shouting on the deck. The hammer came down slowly as I tested the swing, and then back up.
One final breath, and it seemed like the entire world breathed in with me. We crested a wave, and I swung. My eyes closed a fraction of a second before I hit.
The force was tangible. For a moment as I opened my eyes, reality itself seemed to shake, and a feeling of shock seemed to wash through the very air around me. My blood pulsed with fire, the rain grew still, and the wind lulled. It seemed as if even the waves slowed slightly. One could almost imagine the gods themselves stopping to take note of what had just happened, maybe even pausing in shock.
I traced the cannonball through the air, seemingly in slow motion. It arced gently, floating over the seemingly frozen waves, the wind not even bothering it in the slightest. An eternity after I swung the hammer, reality returned in an instant.
The cannonball struck the prow of the ship head on, blowing a gaping hole in the wood. A hull designed to protect against ballista bolts and water, and even then, the hole was less impressive than you might imagine. On the other hand, as the wind suddenly returned with fury and the world resumed, the pirate ship came down from a wave, prow first into the water. I could visualise the fragments of wood blown into the ship from the hull killing men inside, and those men suddenly seeing seawater pour into a hole that had not been there moments ago. The shock and panic in their eyes. I shook the vision away.
"Harran! Man!" I called out over the din of the storm. Their heads took a moment to peek past the crate. "Another."
---
We left a sinking ruin of a ship behind us as we sailed out of the storm. The crew was understandably shocked by the power of the little "fixture" that had been sitting so innocuously on the bow. I heard mutterings of "sorcery" and "magic" from them when they thought I was not listening, but at the same time I had been very clear about what the goal of this voyage was. If I happened to bring a bit of "magic" with me, then it was all the better, was it not?
Only a few more days before we passed Tyrosh and then the Stepstones. Hopefully we would get lucky and not have to deal with any other pirates before we got out and on towards Lys.
---
271 AC
Red Keep
Dear Diary,
I am trying to write this about who I was before I was born. Maybe to get some closure, maybe to just recall a few memories that seem to be fading slightly as I age. I still remember perfectly the way magnets, wire, and motion can induce a current and thus allow the use of electricity, but the face of the mother that I once had is very quickly being replaced by the one that I have now. The brother that I once fought with in my childhood becoming that of Rhaegar.
I was an engineer. I definitely remember that. It is the finer memories that escape me. The personal ones. I remember that I used to enjoy reading. It was for the escapism, and the distraction. To feed the imagination. Now that I am part of one of the worlds that I may have dreamt up once upon a time, I find myself unable to enjoy reading for pleasure. For information and for learning, yes, but stories do not interest me past learning of history and what might be. Instead, I find myself drawn to tangible things. Learning statescraft, business, ruling, and administration draws my attention just as much as swordplay and riding.
The thrill of beating a cocky boy four years my elder to a pulp with a blunted sword is cathartic. I spend as much time with the sword as I do on a horse, and some time with a bow. Some days I play around with "warhammers" and spears, and others with lances. All scaled down to my size, of course, but the simple practice is enthralling.
Rhaegar has taken up the harp recently, and has been trying to convince me to find something to play as well. It might be fun, honestly. Rhaella is encouraging him to convince me, too. Nothing has really caught my interest though, so I have not committed to it.
I will think on it.
So.
By simple virtue of this story being labelled as, "ongoing" for more than seven months without progress, you might expect that I've given up on it. You would be wrong. The world is hugely interesting, and the potential amazing.
However, you might also notice that I've included a cannon. At least, I hope you've noticed that. I said a while ago that the revolvers and the copper-bottom would be the end of the things that I develop in this world, but while I am still very interested in writing this story, I also needed something to hook me back into actually writing it. Whipping out a cannon and blowing some would-be pirates apart was that hook. I retract my previous promises about not introducing tech, but still hold very firm to the idea of, "No tech except tech under the SI's firm control". In other words, the printing press is still a while off, and so is anything else. Nevermind the fact that he's on a ship now, and will be for the next... while. Chronologically, at least. The actual sailing will be over in a few chapters, because I couldn't be bothered writing about sailing and the ocean.
So yeah! I'm going to be writing more of this soon.
Also, I haven't even been through this to spell-check or anything, so any errors pointed out will be fixed and appreciated.
I hope you have read the new books because they confirmed what happened to valyria was no simple volcanic eruption and more themed like a volcanic eye of terror.
