"I have created electricity!!"
"Neat, my Lord. So... What are you going to do with it?"
"...Shit!!!"
Oh God, am I the Mannis now? - GoT/SI
- Thread starter Sir Rabby
- Start date
"I have created electricity!!"
"Neat, my Lord. So... What are you going to do with it?"
"...Shit!!!"
Oh I am slain!
Wynaut?
- Location
- Tatooine
"Why of course! I'll give people mild reinforcing shocks whenever I disapprove of something they're doing."
---
*Robert chugs two glasses of alcohol in a row*
"Bzzt!"
---
*Jon tries to shove more responsibilities at Stabby*
"Bzzt!"
---
*Freys*
"Bzzt!"
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HanEmpire
Delicious
You need chocolate to act as a carrot for that to work fast.
- Location
- California
On one hand I agree that out of the two of them Lyanna is probably the better option. At the very least she won't have him killed, and would provide stronger ties to the North which would mean that most of the kingdoms are in some way invested in the continuation of the new dynasty. On the other hand I would be very careful about revealing what you know about Jamie and Cersei. If you drag the Lannister name down in the mud then Tywin will make you pay.
On another note, do you have any plans to improve the hygiene of the city? Like making people wash their hands or not dumping their waste in the streets or making sure that drinking water isn't contaminated by waste. (Seriously if you do any research into the health of cities prior to the 19th century it was disgusting. More people died in cities than were born, cities only grew because people migrated from the countryside.) This seems like something Stabby would want to fix.
If for no other reason than he has to spend time there...
- Location
- Somewhere
Pretty sure they haven't banged at this point in time. Yet. If at all.
If I recall, the only reason they canonically banged was, well, because Robert was an absolute cunt and Cersei grew to resent Robert for still pining over Lyanna even though she was dead, and so she decided to fuck Jaime to screw Robert over. Before the wedding night she actually kinda fancied Robert cos he was this badass handsome war hero.
If Robert hadn't been his usual self and been.. decent, Cersei likely would never have banged Jaime.
Anyway, I can't help but think Cersei would rather be with Stannis. And Tywin would probably like that more as well. Stannis has shown to be a decent person for Cersei to interact with, much better than any of her other potential husbands, from her POV. She's not actually completely butt-fucking crazy yet, so getting ties with Cersei wouldn't actually be too bad for Stannis.. if he wasn't apparently tied to inconsequential Tyrell girl #2, unless he decides to fuck over Mace.
Furthermore, Stannis in this timeline is this badass war hero, even if he just scraped by, the shit he did is reasonably badass. Cersei likely has a crush on Stannis.
Tywin is also smart enough to see that Stannis is a better ally for him than Robert, and that in the long-term a marriage to Stannis would bear more fruit than Robert. Yeah he'd have descendants on the throne with Robert, but with Stannis he'd have descendants raking in the wealth and also who would arguably have damn good power spread around.
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Sadly, they've been banging like porno for quite awhile by this point.
Run Stabby! Run like you want to live!!!
- Location
- Somewhere
Since when?
The only mention of it is when they were like.. 7 or whatever and their mum was alive, and she seperates them when they're doing.. non-siblingly things.
After that, there's nothing until well.. she's married Robert and he's his cuntish self. She seemed to start pining after Rhaegar for a while, and was more infatuated with him and becoming Queen than Jaime. That infatuation moved onto Robert canonically after the whole Rebellion, before being utterly crushed on their wedding night.
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In the books they banged when Jaime was to take the white. So they have been banging for a few years at these point. Before that they did a lot of sexual experiments with each other.
Honestly, it's probably best to assume my technical experience is; 'oh, I've read about it once.' There won't be gunpowder/engines/telegraphs etc for decades (if the story even timeskips that far). Let alone this process I just had to wikipedia ;(
Quest
The Great One
- Location
- Everywhere
Huh, really? I remember learning about it in 10th grade.
....Though the only reason I remember is probably because I was on a fantasy kick on the time and I wondered what would happen if we coated multiple fantasy metals(with differing properties like magic conductivity and strength) on top of each other.
Stabby could get around most of it by using a stand in. A banking house or trading guild that he's secretly the majority shareholder of. Have one or more of his men, the more savvy of his commoner soldiers or some lesser noble take the hit for being the face of it and loan to merchants and tradesmen.
Where i'm, its equivalent to junior high. We got to practice it too, with copper plating.Huh, really? I remember learning about it in 10th grade.
....Though the only reason I remember is probably because I was on a fantasy kick on the time and I wondered what would happen if we coated multiple fantasy metals(with differing properties like magic conductivity and strength) on top of each other.
@ Sir Rabby,
Don't worry about it then. Even if you only introduce the number 'Zero', or abacus, or double booking, it will be enough.
Just be carefull not to kick start Renaisance outside of your term.
Tachikoma's Aunt
Priestess of Yog-Sothoth
- Location
- Variable
On electroplating: be very careful. Try not to breath or even be in the same room as the process. Carbonyls (and, indeed, organo-metals in general) are toxic as hell.
A little late to weigh in, but I wouldn't ask Tywin for Castermere. Tywin has got to be aware of what Stabby's been up to, you can guarantee if he even agrees it'll come with several guitar's worth of strings. A Favor though, or Tywin's backing for any new financial incentives, that is something which can have just as much payoff while setting off far fewer alarm bells.
Cosmoline
Sweeping Swarf Silently
God help the poor sod who discovers dimethylmercury by accident.
Tachikoma's Aunt
Priestess of Yog-Sothoth
- Location
- Variable
Indeed. It's one of the few toxins I won't go near, despite its marvelous potential in the field of rocketry. We may be clinically insane, but even I am given pause by substances that diffuse through most polymers (including latex) like they aren't even there and will literally cause you to die in agony over the course of a year if so much as a single microscopic droplet lands on your hand. If the drop is clearly visible, you will probably be dead in minutes.
Chapter 1.15
283 AC – King's Landing: Ambitions and Arsenal Woes
It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that I was exulting in the glory of Robert's court fawning over me. We, that is Robert and I, had arranged for a spectacular unveiling of my semaphore line. Grandmaester Pycelle was charged to write down the message that Robert public dictated. At the same time I had Sebastion write another letter once the King was finished. The two messages each contained a question regarding House Baratheon. I inquired about my grandfather's name while Robert questioned the name of the grandson of Argilac the Arrogant, the Last Stormking.
No soul in the Stormlands could fail to answer them.
Each message was rushed out of the Great Hall. Pycelle's would go with him to his tower to be sent off by Raven while Sebastion would forward his to the final semaphore station on top of the Red Keep. Those in the know were eagerly awaiting the swift return of 'Ormund' and were greedily taking up bets with the backers of 'Davos'.
Mace leaned in closely, "The Reach must have these towers of yours. We'd never suffer an Ironborn surprise ever again! Just name your price, Stannis!"
Jackpot.
Of course I could ask for a silly number of dragons but that just wouldn't do. Sooner or later everyone would figure out they could just copy me. Perhaps they would struggle with the communication codes but I can't imagine each and every one of my men being incorruptible. Besides, the end game was always to connect all the lands of the Realm to King's Landing. If I frame it right I would have all the lords clawing over each other to accept the semaphore lines in their lands. Mace was being wonderfully cooperative on that front. Much like his acquiescence to liberally throw silver and gold around at the arrival of his family.
And just like that we've established an unofficial tax on the Great Houses. The first one to balk at it would be ridiculed via a strenuous, and malicious, whisper campaign. I didn't expect them to resist overmuch. These proud lords with their massive ego's would go out of their way to avoid any hint of loss of face.
I mightily resisted the urge to giggle and replied with a straight face, "Of course, Mace. If you would take care of the upkeep for the towers, I'll connect you to all your bannermen. I'm hopeful the new lines that go to the Dornish front will be done shortly."
With the look of someone gleefully getting their way, just as we discussed, Mace replied, "Excellent, it's a deal." He paused for a moment before winking at me, "Now if only we had a way to stop my sisters from attempting to have tea time gossip sessions across a continent."
Lady Janna and Mina harrumphed and I couldn't contain a snort. If I wasn't careful I might start liking Mace. Lady Olenna refrained from any commentary but I could positively taste her annoyance. For some reason she was against 'Stormlander encroachment upon the Reach'. Fortunately my policy of utterly disregarding her in favor of Mace paid off when the man complained to me about her. The Queen of Thorns might be a formidable enemy might Mace is an equally useful ally.
When handled properly.
Lord Kevan Lannister, the brother of the scariest Lion, took that moment to interject, "I'm sure my brother would agree that such warning towers could benefit the Westerlands, Stannis." He somehow managed to convey seething fury when he shrugged next, "Our coasts too have long felt the scourge of the Ironborn and the cravens mostly manage to flee before we even get word of their deprivations."
I was already counting on their interest, much like I'm sure the North wouldn't mind having them, and hopefully the other regions would follow suit. Still, I was unsure how to deal with Dorne on that regard beyond placing whatever they request at the lowest possible priority.
I smiled at Kevan at said, "While I wouldn't mind the Ironborn keeping to their islands, it is probably for the best we prepare. I'll have my people rush more towers for you Kevan."
The blond Lion nodded in acknowledgment and replied, "You have our gratitude, Stannis, and the Westerlands, too, can easily carry the burden of supplying the towers. We shall do our part."
I got the sense the Lannister actually meant what he said. Still, probably best to keep a fake smile plastered and at least a tenth of my spies keeping an eye on the Lions.
Just in case.
A few short moments later Lord Sebastion Errol strode back into the Great Hall and delivered his response to me. Robert, finally sticking to his script, loudly laughed and shared his warm slash fuzzy feelings regarding the accomplishments of his younger brother.
Of course, it couldn't last, and he promptly walked off script, "The words of the Royals haven't ran across our Realm this fast since the last Dragon withered and died. Our world, our own corner of this world, has both shrunk and enlarged today, my people. Wonderous days are ahead! I cannot wait to meet them with you and rise to whatever challenges may come!"
He really was something. I know I, occasionally, underestimate him but Robert is not that bad at this. Not bad at all. It made me infinitely more determined to disallow his degeneration into that fat shell of man I know he might end up as. There was relatively little I wasn't willing to risk to keep that from happening. Everything I've planned, every last little thing, would work a thousand times better if I had an energetic King to work with.
The good news on that front was that Lyanna and Ned Stark were coming, soon. The bad news was hat Lyanna and Ned Stark were coming. Soon. I had no idea what they might bring with them but there was the niggling sensation that bad things were ahead.
Was Lyanna kidnapped? Even if she wasn't, would she still have affections for the man whose actions helped bring harm to her family? Would she see marriage to Robert as penitence? Would she even be willing to entertain the notion of marriage to him?
Good gods, what if she just told Ned she wanted to go home? He'd never stop her and Robert was liable to simply follow along with her.
What if things were even worse? What if she marries him, is obviously unhappy, and brings down Robert with her? Would he spiral out of control even sooner?
God damn it.
Things have gone too well for it all to crash down now and I couldn't involve myself directly. Neither Robert nor Lyanna would likely appreciate that. Was the Northern wolfish girl even worth all of this? Could I not work together with Tywin to bring Cersei enough to heel so she doesn't tear down Robert?
God damn it.
The things I'm contemplating are costing me my appetite.
283 AC – King's Landing: Ambitions and Arsenal Woes
It didn't last, thankfully. With the last of the food being carried away the merriment was set to start. We'd just had a mummers show during the feast itself and now the floor was being opened to various entertainment acts. Acrobats contorting themselves in strange positions and tumbling across the Hall. Singers with lutes, flutes and a whole host of other instruments.
Suddenly, after the last artist was finished, a loud voice carried through the Great Hall and all turned towards its origin. An unassuming old man, with the whitest of hair that covered most of his face, and in understated dress confidently walked to the center of the massive room.
The man twirled his lute in his hands as he loudly continued, "Lo, your Grace! And behold, I, the famed singer Vaemyr of Lys. I have composed a grand song about your war upon the Dragons I wish to present before your mighty court, O King Stag!"
A long moment of silence broke sharply when Robert bellowed out, "Go then, Vaemyr of Lys, and sing. You best be as good as you claim if you wish to profit from your presumption."
The aged singer mockingly bowed, just a touch too slow to be sincere, but promptly rose with a great wide smile on his wrinkled face. From the distance it was difficult to see clearly but I was pretty sure his eyes flashed purple.
Oh.
This could just be completely unrelated to anything vaguely...Targy, but I doubted it. Still...I couldn't be seen to be afraid of a fucking song. Even if he was some sort of strange loyalist, we'd simply throw him in the black cells to cool him down.
Or was that what he wanted?
To be near to Varys?
Was I really this paranoid that I was concerned about a singer with vaguely purple eyes?
"I shall give you that which I give freely to all, your Grace. My very best, and now...I shall get on with it."
Vaemyr cleared his throat, strummed his lute, and soon his dulcet tones were heard all through the Great Hall,
"Once they all believed in dragons
When the world was fresh and young,
We were woven into legends,
Tales were told and songs were sung,
We were treated with obeisance,
We were honored, we were feared,
Then one day they stopped believing--
On that day, we disappeared.
Now they say our time is over,
Now they say we've lived our last,
Now we're treated with derision
Where once we ruled unsurpassed.
Then we were broken, divided and weak.
The Dragons so strong, brought down to their feet."
Should I stop this?
My feeling that this wasn't what it seemed just grew stronger but I couldn't find a compelling reason to act if even Robert could just sit through this. The court was hushed and quiet to better hear the words. The words that I'm sure are leading to something horrible but I still couldn't bring myself to rush him out of the Hall. The singer's voice momentarily broke before he rallied, albeit softer and quieter, in a manner that fell between singing and talking.
"Tonight is the night all the dragons
Awake in their lairs underground,
To sing in cacophonous chorus
And fill the whole world with their sound.
They sing of the days of their glory,
They sing of their exploits of old,
Of maidens and Knights, and of fiery fights,
And sacking vast caches gold.
We'll grow to ancient heights.
Red or black, it matters little more.
In the face of the Stags we all abhor."
Thunderously the singer raged and his seething anger could be so clearly heard by all. Robert never moved a muscle but I knew the man. He was almost shaking with ill concealed wrath but he was held by the same unseen force that stayed my own hand. If we put a stop to this we would be acknowledging the strength of the words. That they hold enough merit to oppose.
That could not be allowed to happen. I resolved to thoroughly question this man after we pay him and 'send him on his way'. Of course, now that my paranoia has been somewhat vindicated...he won't come near the Black Cells. I had access to plenty of other quiet places. The man bellowed out his final lines, having long since given up the pretense of song,
"Enter darkness! Leave the light!
Here be nightmare! Here be fright!
Here be dragon, flame and flight!
Here be spit-fire! Here be grief!
So curse the bones of empty reprieve.
Curse the creeping Kingdom-thief!
Curse much worse the dragon-slayer!
Curse his purse and curse his prayer!
Curse these words and curse their sayer!
Fire and Blood, Red or Black!
All the Dragons, as one attack!"
From the corner of my eye I saw Robert urging one of his men closer but before his sworn sword even reached the high table Vaemyr preempted whatever response was to come. From somewhere on his person he retrieved a small razor and traced it through his throat after one final scream.
"And all the Dragons, as one attack!"
Blood splattered in an arc around Vaemyr of Lys even as he, himself, spun down to the ground. Complete and utter silence held the Great Hall hostage and I knew I had to do something. From the deepest recesses of my mind I desperately tried to think of something funny. It didn't even have to be truly funny. Just enough to jar people out of the malaise they'd suddenly found themselves in.
With the relief that only an ex-class clown can feel when they're put on the spot and need to the deliver I slowly stand up and start clapping even slower. I ruthlessly pushed down the lingering awkwardness of Stannis objecting to being the center of attention.
"Wonderful show! I could scarcely have arranged for better! And they were so kind to warn us too!"
I knew everyone was staring at me so I had to truly sell it. I turned to the King and yelled out, "Robert! The Dragons are coming at us with songs! Should we loose a response in kind?"
The smirk on his smile must have come off as legit to the court but I knew it was empty. He was furious but still managed to hold on to his temper. With a slightly wider grin he replied, "I remember your singing, Stannis." A heartbeat passed before he continued, "I wouldn't wish it upon even Dragons."
Holy shit, well done.
The court finally lost its feel of repressed anxiety and cheerful laughter once again sounded through the Great Hall. Robert nodded at someone to get rid of the corpse and I thought that would have been the end of it. Of course it wasn't as Lady Olenna quietly, but just loud enough to hear for me, said, "Oh, poor Stags. Perhaps they lost their penchant for singing when they exchanged it for war?"
She had an annoying habit of not entirely offending you. Her backhanded compliments were just upsetting enough to needle you but could still easily be played off as an overreaction on my part if I tried to call her out. Hence my general policy of ignoring her.
Now, though, there were still too many eyes on me to do that. I slowly sat down, turned to Olenna, and said with a wink, "Perhaps true, but it doesn't mean we lost any hint of artistry in souls, Lady Olenna."
Her response came quick, "Oh? Have you been hiding a talent for painting perchance?"
Mina spoke up afterward, "Or music? Do you play an instrument, Lord Stannis?"
From the very first time I met her she never quite relaxed around me. Perhaps she's taking herself out of the running, deliberately? I quickly glance over to Janna just as she said, "I do hope it's poetry, I've always admired a quick turn of phrase...and tongue."
Yup.
Screw calling for my violin, I'm going to quote some poetry. For a long, utterly horrifying, moment my mind was blank. Nothing came up and I started to panic. Thankfully long forgotten words bubbled to the service which left me with another worry. What if I forget words when I'm in the middle of reciting? Even Robert was vaguely amusing and kept an eye on me. I couldn't choke now and Robert Frost would always do in a pinch.
I cleared my throat, smiled widely, and loudly, enough to carry across the long table, and confidently spoke,
"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference."
The reception was, well...polite, but not as grand as I expected from Frost. The was my standby and today he wasn't delivering. Or, at least not as much as I hoped for.
Mace softly comforted me, "That was very nice, Stannis."
Great, but I wasn't looking to impress him.
Janna smiled widely though, her intense gaze never leaving me, and asked for more, "Have you more for us, Stannis?"
While I wasn't all that enthused about being their entertainment monkey I knew that I needed to keep the attention of the court on me. My, apparently mediocre, poetry was enough for that at least. Even as I was worried out of my mind about what was brewing on Essos a new poem bubbled up but I couldn't remember who wrote it. Considering the subject; a terrible irony.
"My poem may be yours indeed
In melody and tone,
If in its rhythm you can read
A music of your own;
If in its pale woof you can weave
Your lovelier design,
'Twill make my lyric, I believe,
More yours than mine.
I'm but a prompter at the best;
Crude cues are all I give.
In simple stanzas I suggest -
'Tis you who make them live.
My bit of rhyme is but a frame,
And if my lines you quote,
I think, although they bear my name,
'Tis you who wrote.
Yours is the beauty that you see
In any words I sing;
The magic and the melody
'Tis you, dear friend, who bring.
Yea, by the glory and the gleam,
The loveliness that lures
Your thought to starry heights of dream,
The poem's yours."
William, something something. It'll come to me at some point. Annoyingly this poem got a much warmer reception and I had clearly grown shameless enough to enjoy the approval of tittering nobles. If the 'me' from five months ago could see me, he'd be disgusted.
Janna smirked in a way that was fairly appetizing but Lady Olenna spoke up, "That was rather nice, young man. I do believe I can enjoy the sentiment."
Huh, no backhanded compliment this time?
Across the table I locked gazes with Robert and he nodded once, firmly. It really shouldn't have such an affect on me but his approval, for some reason, meant a lot to me.
Oh god. He was 'Robert-ing' me! Is this his magical charisma?
AN: Alright. So this clearly got out of hand. Uhm, I promise I won't let this turn into a weird song fic. Commentary and feedback greatly appreciated!
Lotsa things happened: please let me know what you think.
It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that I was exulting in the glory of Robert's court fawning over me. We, that is Robert and I, had arranged for a spectacular unveiling of my semaphore line. Grandmaester Pycelle was charged to write down the message that Robert public dictated. At the same time I had Sebastion write another letter once the King was finished. The two messages each contained a question regarding House Baratheon. I inquired about my grandfather's name while Robert questioned the name of the grandson of Argilac the Arrogant, the Last Stormking.
No soul in the Stormlands could fail to answer them.
Each message was rushed out of the Great Hall. Pycelle's would go with him to his tower to be sent off by Raven while Sebastion would forward his to the final semaphore station on top of the Red Keep. Those in the know were eagerly awaiting the swift return of 'Ormund' and were greedily taking up bets with the backers of 'Davos'.
Mace leaned in closely, "The Reach must have these towers of yours. We'd never suffer an Ironborn surprise ever again! Just name your price, Stannis!"
Jackpot.
Of course I could ask for a silly number of dragons but that just wouldn't do. Sooner or later everyone would figure out they could just copy me. Perhaps they would struggle with the communication codes but I can't imagine each and every one of my men being incorruptible. Besides, the end game was always to connect all the lands of the Realm to King's Landing. If I frame it right I would have all the lords clawing over each other to accept the semaphore lines in their lands. Mace was being wonderfully cooperative on that front. Much like his acquiescence to liberally throw silver and gold around at the arrival of his family.
And just like that we've established an unofficial tax on the Great Houses. The first one to balk at it would be ridiculed via a strenuous, and malicious, whisper campaign. I didn't expect them to resist overmuch. These proud lords with their massive ego's would go out of their way to avoid any hint of loss of face.
I mightily resisted the urge to giggle and replied with a straight face, "Of course, Mace. If you would take care of the upkeep for the towers, I'll connect you to all your bannermen. I'm hopeful the new lines that go to the Dornish front will be done shortly."
With the look of someone gleefully getting their way, just as we discussed, Mace replied, "Excellent, it's a deal." He paused for a moment before winking at me, "Now if only we had a way to stop my sisters from attempting to have tea time gossip sessions across a continent."
Lady Janna and Mina harrumphed and I couldn't contain a snort. If I wasn't careful I might start liking Mace. Lady Olenna refrained from any commentary but I could positively taste her annoyance. For some reason she was against 'Stormlander encroachment upon the Reach'. Fortunately my policy of utterly disregarding her in favor of Mace paid off when the man complained to me about her. The Queen of Thorns might be a formidable enemy might Mace is an equally useful ally.
When handled properly.
Lord Kevan Lannister, the brother of the scariest Lion, took that moment to interject, "I'm sure my brother would agree that such warning towers could benefit the Westerlands, Stannis." He somehow managed to convey seething fury when he shrugged next, "Our coasts too have long felt the scourge of the Ironborn and the cravens mostly manage to flee before we even get word of their deprivations."
I was already counting on their interest, much like I'm sure the North wouldn't mind having them, and hopefully the other regions would follow suit. Still, I was unsure how to deal with Dorne on that regard beyond placing whatever they request at the lowest possible priority.
I smiled at Kevan at said, "While I wouldn't mind the Ironborn keeping to their islands, it is probably for the best we prepare. I'll have my people rush more towers for you Kevan."
The blond Lion nodded in acknowledgment and replied, "You have our gratitude, Stannis, and the Westerlands, too, can easily carry the burden of supplying the towers. We shall do our part."
I got the sense the Lannister actually meant what he said. Still, probably best to keep a fake smile plastered and at least a tenth of my spies keeping an eye on the Lions.
Just in case.
A few short moments later Lord Sebastion Errol strode back into the Great Hall and delivered his response to me. Robert, finally sticking to his script, loudly laughed and shared his warm slash fuzzy feelings regarding the accomplishments of his younger brother.
Of course, it couldn't last, and he promptly walked off script, "The words of the Royals haven't ran across our Realm this fast since the last Dragon withered and died. Our world, our own corner of this world, has both shrunk and enlarged today, my people. Wonderous days are ahead! I cannot wait to meet them with you and rise to whatever challenges may come!"
He really was something. I know I, occasionally, underestimate him but Robert is not that bad at this. Not bad at all. It made me infinitely more determined to disallow his degeneration into that fat shell of man I know he might end up as. There was relatively little I wasn't willing to risk to keep that from happening. Everything I've planned, every last little thing, would work a thousand times better if I had an energetic King to work with.
The good news on that front was that Lyanna and Ned Stark were coming, soon. The bad news was hat Lyanna and Ned Stark were coming. Soon. I had no idea what they might bring with them but there was the niggling sensation that bad things were ahead.
Was Lyanna kidnapped? Even if she wasn't, would she still have affections for the man whose actions helped bring harm to her family? Would she see marriage to Robert as penitence? Would she even be willing to entertain the notion of marriage to him?
Good gods, what if she just told Ned she wanted to go home? He'd never stop her and Robert was liable to simply follow along with her.
What if things were even worse? What if she marries him, is obviously unhappy, and brings down Robert with her? Would he spiral out of control even sooner?
God damn it.
Things have gone too well for it all to crash down now and I couldn't involve myself directly. Neither Robert nor Lyanna would likely appreciate that. Was the Northern wolfish girl even worth all of this? Could I not work together with Tywin to bring Cersei enough to heel so she doesn't tear down Robert?
God damn it.
The things I'm contemplating are costing me my appetite.
283 AC – King's Landing: Ambitions and Arsenal Woes
It didn't last, thankfully. With the last of the food being carried away the merriment was set to start. We'd just had a mummers show during the feast itself and now the floor was being opened to various entertainment acts. Acrobats contorting themselves in strange positions and tumbling across the Hall. Singers with lutes, flutes and a whole host of other instruments.
Suddenly, after the last artist was finished, a loud voice carried through the Great Hall and all turned towards its origin. An unassuming old man, with the whitest of hair that covered most of his face, and in understated dress confidently walked to the center of the massive room.
The man twirled his lute in his hands as he loudly continued, "Lo, your Grace! And behold, I, the famed singer Vaemyr of Lys. I have composed a grand song about your war upon the Dragons I wish to present before your mighty court, O King Stag!"
A long moment of silence broke sharply when Robert bellowed out, "Go then, Vaemyr of Lys, and sing. You best be as good as you claim if you wish to profit from your presumption."
The aged singer mockingly bowed, just a touch too slow to be sincere, but promptly rose with a great wide smile on his wrinkled face. From the distance it was difficult to see clearly but I was pretty sure his eyes flashed purple.
Oh.
This could just be completely unrelated to anything vaguely...Targy, but I doubted it. Still...I couldn't be seen to be afraid of a fucking song. Even if he was some sort of strange loyalist, we'd simply throw him in the black cells to cool him down.
Or was that what he wanted?
To be near to Varys?
Was I really this paranoid that I was concerned about a singer with vaguely purple eyes?
"I shall give you that which I give freely to all, your Grace. My very best, and now...I shall get on with it."
Vaemyr cleared his throat, strummed his lute, and soon his dulcet tones were heard all through the Great Hall,
"Once they all believed in dragons
When the world was fresh and young,
We were woven into legends,
Tales were told and songs were sung,
We were treated with obeisance,
We were honored, we were feared,
Then one day they stopped believing--
On that day, we disappeared.
Now they say our time is over,
Now they say we've lived our last,
Now we're treated with derision
Where once we ruled unsurpassed.
Then we were broken, divided and weak.
The Dragons so strong, brought down to their feet."
Should I stop this?
My feeling that this wasn't what it seemed just grew stronger but I couldn't find a compelling reason to act if even Robert could just sit through this. The court was hushed and quiet to better hear the words. The words that I'm sure are leading to something horrible but I still couldn't bring myself to rush him out of the Hall. The singer's voice momentarily broke before he rallied, albeit softer and quieter, in a manner that fell between singing and talking.
"Tonight is the night all the dragons
Awake in their lairs underground,
To sing in cacophonous chorus
And fill the whole world with their sound.
They sing of the days of their glory,
They sing of their exploits of old,
Of maidens and Knights, and of fiery fights,
And sacking vast caches gold.
We'll grow to ancient heights.
Red or black, it matters little more.
In the face of the Stags we all abhor."
Thunderously the singer raged and his seething anger could be so clearly heard by all. Robert never moved a muscle but I knew the man. He was almost shaking with ill concealed wrath but he was held by the same unseen force that stayed my own hand. If we put a stop to this we would be acknowledging the strength of the words. That they hold enough merit to oppose.
That could not be allowed to happen. I resolved to thoroughly question this man after we pay him and 'send him on his way'. Of course, now that my paranoia has been somewhat vindicated...he won't come near the Black Cells. I had access to plenty of other quiet places. The man bellowed out his final lines, having long since given up the pretense of song,
"Enter darkness! Leave the light!
Here be nightmare! Here be fright!
Here be dragon, flame and flight!
Here be spit-fire! Here be grief!
So curse the bones of empty reprieve.
Curse the creeping Kingdom-thief!
Curse much worse the dragon-slayer!
Curse his purse and curse his prayer!
Curse these words and curse their sayer!
Fire and Blood, Red or Black!
All the Dragons, as one attack!"
From the corner of my eye I saw Robert urging one of his men closer but before his sworn sword even reached the high table Vaemyr preempted whatever response was to come. From somewhere on his person he retrieved a small razor and traced it through his throat after one final scream.
"And all the Dragons, as one attack!"
Blood splattered in an arc around Vaemyr of Lys even as he, himself, spun down to the ground. Complete and utter silence held the Great Hall hostage and I knew I had to do something. From the deepest recesses of my mind I desperately tried to think of something funny. It didn't even have to be truly funny. Just enough to jar people out of the malaise they'd suddenly found themselves in.
With the relief that only an ex-class clown can feel when they're put on the spot and need to the deliver I slowly stand up and start clapping even slower. I ruthlessly pushed down the lingering awkwardness of Stannis objecting to being the center of attention.
"Wonderful show! I could scarcely have arranged for better! And they were so kind to warn us too!"
I knew everyone was staring at me so I had to truly sell it. I turned to the King and yelled out, "Robert! The Dragons are coming at us with songs! Should we loose a response in kind?"
The smirk on his smile must have come off as legit to the court but I knew it was empty. He was furious but still managed to hold on to his temper. With a slightly wider grin he replied, "I remember your singing, Stannis." A heartbeat passed before he continued, "I wouldn't wish it upon even Dragons."
Holy shit, well done.
The court finally lost its feel of repressed anxiety and cheerful laughter once again sounded through the Great Hall. Robert nodded at someone to get rid of the corpse and I thought that would have been the end of it. Of course it wasn't as Lady Olenna quietly, but just loud enough to hear for me, said, "Oh, poor Stags. Perhaps they lost their penchant for singing when they exchanged it for war?"
She had an annoying habit of not entirely offending you. Her backhanded compliments were just upsetting enough to needle you but could still easily be played off as an overreaction on my part if I tried to call her out. Hence my general policy of ignoring her.
Now, though, there were still too many eyes on me to do that. I slowly sat down, turned to Olenna, and said with a wink, "Perhaps true, but it doesn't mean we lost any hint of artistry in souls, Lady Olenna."
Her response came quick, "Oh? Have you been hiding a talent for painting perchance?"
Mina spoke up afterward, "Or music? Do you play an instrument, Lord Stannis?"
From the very first time I met her she never quite relaxed around me. Perhaps she's taking herself out of the running, deliberately? I quickly glance over to Janna just as she said, "I do hope it's poetry, I've always admired a quick turn of phrase...and tongue."
Yup.
Screw calling for my violin, I'm going to quote some poetry. For a long, utterly horrifying, moment my mind was blank. Nothing came up and I started to panic. Thankfully long forgotten words bubbled to the service which left me with another worry. What if I forget words when I'm in the middle of reciting? Even Robert was vaguely amusing and kept an eye on me. I couldn't choke now and Robert Frost would always do in a pinch.
I cleared my throat, smiled widely, and loudly, enough to carry across the long table, and confidently spoke,
"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference."
The reception was, well...polite, but not as grand as I expected from Frost. The was my standby and today he wasn't delivering. Or, at least not as much as I hoped for.
Mace softly comforted me, "That was very nice, Stannis."
Great, but I wasn't looking to impress him.
Janna smiled widely though, her intense gaze never leaving me, and asked for more, "Have you more for us, Stannis?"
While I wasn't all that enthused about being their entertainment monkey I knew that I needed to keep the attention of the court on me. My, apparently mediocre, poetry was enough for that at least. Even as I was worried out of my mind about what was brewing on Essos a new poem bubbled up but I couldn't remember who wrote it. Considering the subject; a terrible irony.
"My poem may be yours indeed
In melody and tone,
If in its rhythm you can read
A music of your own;
If in its pale woof you can weave
Your lovelier design,
'Twill make my lyric, I believe,
More yours than mine.
I'm but a prompter at the best;
Crude cues are all I give.
In simple stanzas I suggest -
'Tis you who make them live.
My bit of rhyme is but a frame,
And if my lines you quote,
I think, although they bear my name,
'Tis you who wrote.
Yours is the beauty that you see
In any words I sing;
The magic and the melody
'Tis you, dear friend, who bring.
Yea, by the glory and the gleam,
The loveliness that lures
Your thought to starry heights of dream,
The poem's yours."
William, something something. It'll come to me at some point. Annoyingly this poem got a much warmer reception and I had clearly grown shameless enough to enjoy the approval of tittering nobles. If the 'me' from five months ago could see me, he'd be disgusted.
Janna smirked in a way that was fairly appetizing but Lady Olenna spoke up, "That was rather nice, young man. I do believe I can enjoy the sentiment."
Huh, no backhanded compliment this time?
Across the table I locked gazes with Robert and he nodded once, firmly. It really shouldn't have such an affect on me but his approval, for some reason, meant a lot to me.
Oh god. He was 'Robert-ing' me! Is this his magical charisma?
AN: Alright. So this clearly got out of hand. Uhm, I promise I won't let this turn into a weird song fic. Commentary and feedback greatly appreciated!
Lotsa things happened: please let me know what you think.
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he could always use invictus if he wants to impress.
Oh I am slain!
Wynaut?
- Location
- Tatooine
Yeah, how you choose Lyanna's characterization could easily lead this story into much darker tones. I guess we'll see what you decide.
As for the poetry, is Stabby paranoid enough to avoid showing additional skills? Or did the shock get to him?
As for the poetry, is Stabby paranoid enough to avoid showing additional skills? Or did the shock get to him?
... that's strangely tantalizing. A decent ASOIAF story that crashes and burns via song overload? It would be delightfully poetic. ^_^