Jace's young body houses the soul of another, burdened with the knowledge of a dark future...
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Estuary’s End (Jacaerys SI) (HoTD/Fire & Blood)
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FireWalkWithMe99
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Jace's young body houses the soul of another, burdened with the knowledge of a dark future. Determined to avert the impending chaos and bloodshed of the Dance of Dragons, he embarks on an extraordinary journey. In a realm where alliances are forged and shattered, he must navigate treacherous paths and form unexpected bonds. Yet, trapped in the guise of a child, Jacaerys faces the daunting challenge of being taken seriously by those around him.
Can the weight of the realm's fate be carried upon his small shoulders?
The crimson dance must not come to pass.
MULTIPLE POV Story.
Can the weight of the realm's fate be carried upon his small shoulders?
The crimson dance must not come to pass.
MULTIPLE POV Story.
Chapter 1: Rhaenyra I
FireWalkWithMe99
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Rhaenyra I
Rhaenyra walked alongside Harwin, footsteps echoing through the halls that had become an increasingly familiar sight since Jacaerys's birth. It was a path she had traversed with quickened steps.
As they walked, Rhaenyra found her gaze lingering a bit too long on Harwin's face, as she made her way to her son's nursery. Thick dark brown hair cascading just shy of his broad shoulders, framing a visage that bore traces of a rugged life. His skin, a few shades darker than her own, held the stories of battles fought and burdens carried. His soft brown eyes met hers briefly before retreating to their own musings.
A silent invitation hung in the air, her hand gesturing toward the room, beckoning him to step inside. Yet Harwin remained rooted in place.
"You can come see him as well if you'd like," Rhaenyra offered, her voice tender.
Yet, he declined with a heavy sigh. "It's best I don't. No doubt it would raise suspicions," Harwin replied, his expression somber.
Rhaenyra couldn't help but find his caution unnecessary, even bordering on foolish. He has not seen their son face to face for some days now. But there was a grain of truth in his words. The court teemed with whispers and secrets, since her delivery of Jacaerys, even more so. Perhaps it was wiser to err on the side of caution. Harwin had a point, after all.
With a resigned nod, Rhaenyra proceeded to enter the nursery, her eyes instantly drawn to the haven of her son's crib. There, amidst the comforting embrace of rich linens and soft lace, lay her son
Gently, she scooped up Jacaerys, his stillness enveloping her, inviting her to unravel the enigma that resided within his innocent gaze. But as her heart swelled with love, a twinge of guilt coursed through her veins, a reminder of the disruptions and sacrifices her marriage to Laenor had brought.
The calculated move to secure alliances and protect her claim to the throne had shattered the tranquility she once sought for Jacaerys. Doubts gnawed at her conscience—were the gods punishing her for manipulating the system? Had her ambition come at the cost of her son's serenity?
Jacaerys rarely cried, his small face etched with a pensive frown that hinted at a burden far beyond his tender years. It fascinated and worried her simultaneously, this composed demeanor he wore like armor. She spoke to several Maesters, and even the queen mother herself against better judgment. All insisting it was simply nerves typical of any mother post pregnancy, especially a first born. To some extent she could understand she certainly had a nervousness regarding Jacaerys before and after his birth. Though she felt there was something more to it.
She watched him with tender eyes, his hand reaching for the light green dragon egg in his crib, after carefully bringing him down hovering above the egg his delicate fingers began tracing the rough texture of the dragon egg, skimming the intricate scale-like patterns. A smile blossomed on his face, mirroring her own long-lost joy. In that fleeting moment, she glimpsed her resilience reflected in his innocent curiosity.
Yet, beneath her smile, a tempest brewed in her mind. The weight of her responsibilities as a princess, the burden of her claim to the Iron Throne, and the tangled web of relationships she had woven haunted her thoughts. Was she unwittingly sacrificing Jacaerys's innocence in her relentless pursuit of power?
The fierce desire to challenge the system and claim her birthright burned within her, an inferno that consumed doubt and hesitation. The realm's watchful eyes left no room for faltering. She longed to shield Jacaerys from the harsh realities that lay ahead, to preserve his innocence in a world that knew little mercy. Though she knew just as her father attempted with her it was a near impossible feat.
Cradling Jacaerys against her, Rhaenyra's thoughts raced toward the challenges that lay in wait. Her marriage, her relationships, her aspirations—all intertwined threads threatening to pull her in disparate directions. Yet, amidst the tumult, she vowed to protect her son, no matter the treacherous waters she must navigate or the sacrifices she must make.
With a sigh, Rhaenyra held Jacaerys a little tighter, a promise woven within her embrace. She would carve a path to the Iron Throne, fiercely preserving her son's innocence along the way. The world may be harsh and unforgiving, but as both mother and queen, she would emerge as a force to be reckoned with—a testament to the indomitable strength of a dragon's blood.
A.N. So this is something I started outlining awhile ago, I got to writing two weeks back and squeezed out this chapter in one night over on SB/ffn/ao3 . My current plan for this is for it to take a nod from sunrise, in the sense that even though Jace is the SI none of the story will be from his perspective. I may do Omake's or some such from Jace's perspective down the line though the actual story will be from several characters POV's some of which were mentioned in this very chapter.
Next POV will be a few years after this one though the time skips will not typically be so drastic between POV's
Let me know your thoughts, on both my characterization of Rhaenyra and the concept as a whole. Any comments whatsoever are appreciated. Whether criticism, Critique, or simply saying you enjoyed the chapter.
Rhaenyra walked alongside Harwin, footsteps echoing through the halls that had become an increasingly familiar sight since Jacaerys's birth. It was a path she had traversed with quickened steps.
As they walked, Rhaenyra found her gaze lingering a bit too long on Harwin's face, as she made her way to her son's nursery. Thick dark brown hair cascading just shy of his broad shoulders, framing a visage that bore traces of a rugged life. His skin, a few shades darker than her own, held the stories of battles fought and burdens carried. His soft brown eyes met hers briefly before retreating to their own musings.
A silent invitation hung in the air, her hand gesturing toward the room, beckoning him to step inside. Yet Harwin remained rooted in place.
"You can come see him as well if you'd like," Rhaenyra offered, her voice tender.
Yet, he declined with a heavy sigh. "It's best I don't. No doubt it would raise suspicions," Harwin replied, his expression somber.
Rhaenyra couldn't help but find his caution unnecessary, even bordering on foolish. He has not seen their son face to face for some days now. But there was a grain of truth in his words. The court teemed with whispers and secrets, since her delivery of Jacaerys, even more so. Perhaps it was wiser to err on the side of caution. Harwin had a point, after all.
With a resigned nod, Rhaenyra proceeded to enter the nursery, her eyes instantly drawn to the haven of her son's crib. There, amidst the comforting embrace of rich linens and soft lace, lay her son
Gently, she scooped up Jacaerys, his stillness enveloping her, inviting her to unravel the enigma that resided within his innocent gaze. But as her heart swelled with love, a twinge of guilt coursed through her veins, a reminder of the disruptions and sacrifices her marriage to Laenor had brought.
The calculated move to secure alliances and protect her claim to the throne had shattered the tranquility she once sought for Jacaerys. Doubts gnawed at her conscience—were the gods punishing her for manipulating the system? Had her ambition come at the cost of her son's serenity?
Jacaerys rarely cried, his small face etched with a pensive frown that hinted at a burden far beyond his tender years. It fascinated and worried her simultaneously, this composed demeanor he wore like armor. She spoke to several Maesters, and even the queen mother herself against better judgment. All insisting it was simply nerves typical of any mother post pregnancy, especially a first born. To some extent she could understand she certainly had a nervousness regarding Jacaerys before and after his birth. Though she felt there was something more to it.
She watched him with tender eyes, his hand reaching for the light green dragon egg in his crib, after carefully bringing him down hovering above the egg his delicate fingers began tracing the rough texture of the dragon egg, skimming the intricate scale-like patterns. A smile blossomed on his face, mirroring her own long-lost joy. In that fleeting moment, she glimpsed her resilience reflected in his innocent curiosity.
Yet, beneath her smile, a tempest brewed in her mind. The weight of her responsibilities as a princess, the burden of her claim to the Iron Throne, and the tangled web of relationships she had woven haunted her thoughts. Was she unwittingly sacrificing Jacaerys's innocence in her relentless pursuit of power?
The fierce desire to challenge the system and claim her birthright burned within her, an inferno that consumed doubt and hesitation. The realm's watchful eyes left no room for faltering. She longed to shield Jacaerys from the harsh realities that lay ahead, to preserve his innocence in a world that knew little mercy. Though she knew just as her father attempted with her it was a near impossible feat.
Cradling Jacaerys against her, Rhaenyra's thoughts raced toward the challenges that lay in wait. Her marriage, her relationships, her aspirations—all intertwined threads threatening to pull her in disparate directions. Yet, amidst the tumult, she vowed to protect her son, no matter the treacherous waters she must navigate or the sacrifices she must make.
With a sigh, Rhaenyra held Jacaerys a little tighter, a promise woven within her embrace. She would carve a path to the Iron Throne, fiercely preserving her son's innocence along the way. The world may be harsh and unforgiving, but as both mother and queen, she would emerge as a force to be reckoned with—a testament to the indomitable strength of a dragon's blood.
A.N. So this is something I started outlining awhile ago, I got to writing two weeks back and squeezed out this chapter in one night over on SB/ffn/ao3 . My current plan for this is for it to take a nod from sunrise, in the sense that even though Jace is the SI none of the story will be from his perspective. I may do Omake's or some such from Jace's perspective down the line though the actual story will be from several characters POV's some of which were mentioned in this very chapter.
Next POV will be a few years after this one though the time skips will not typically be so drastic between POV's
Let me know your thoughts, on both my characterization of Rhaenyra and the concept as a whole. Any comments whatsoever are appreciated. Whether criticism, Critique, or simply saying you enjoyed the chapter.
Chapter 2: Harwin I
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Harwin I
Lucerys had entered the world a month past, his cries resonating through the air with the vigor of a newborn. Harwin observed from a distance, a mix of joy and trepidation coursing through him. His thoughts turned to Jace, his firstborn, who quickly embraced the role of an older brother with great enthusiasm. It was a sight to behold, witnessing Jace's gentle lullaby to his newborn sibling. The melody wafted through the air, foreign yet oddly comforting.
"Go to sleep, go to sleep, go to sleep, little Lucy," Jace crooned, his voice filled with tenderness.
Harwin couldn't help but feel a mild discomfort. Lucy was undeniably a feminine name, and as he gazed at his infant son oddly.
"His name is Lucerys, Jace," Harwin gently reminded his son.
Jace looked up, his eyes pleading. "I know, but Lucy fits the song better," he replied, a touch of innocence in his voice.
Harwin contemplated Jace's words and found himself reluctantly agreeing. His son had a liking to shortening names, there was a certain charm in the way Jace sang, and if the name Lucy brought solace to his eldest son's heart, perhaps it wasn't worth challenging.
Harwin glimpsed a distant look in Jace's eyes, as if an invisible barricade stood between them. It pained Harwin to witness this distance, leaving him to wonder about what within his son's heart caused this behavior. He held a desire to truly know his son, but it felt as though despite his young tender age, it was a one way desire.
Harwin recognized that he couldn't entirely blame Jace for his guarded nature. The circumstances they found themselves in were far from ideal, burdening Jace with responsibilities that no child should bear. Though he did not feel like that would be felt by such a young boy. Harwin yearned for a closeness that seemed perpetually out of reach.
Yet, amidst the complexities of their relationship, Harwin discovered solace in the moments when Jace's gaze turned with admiration for the swords worn by men throughout the keep and town. The awe that ignited in Jace's eyes at the sight of gleaming steel was a joy to behold. Jacaerys would no doubt take to the sword as he himself did as a boy.
Looking down at Lucerys, Harwin's mind held hope and selfish desire. He prayed that with his second son, their bond would be stronger, their connection deeper.
Some days later, seated in the grandeur of the Red Keep, Harwin and Jace found themselves nestled in a cozy corner near a crackling hearth. The warmth of the fire radiated throughout the room, casting shadows on the stone walls.
Jace's small fingers danced along the armrest of Harwin's chair, his gaze wandering to the gleaming swords displayed on the walls. The scent of burning wood permeated the air. It was within this blissful moment that Jace asked a question, his voice carrying an atypical eagerness.
"Commander Strong, can I learn the sword?" Jace's words tumbled out, the enthusiasm in his voice matching the flames that danced before them.
Harwin felt a joy form in his chest. Jace's desire mirroring his very own. The prospect of teaching him the ways of the sword ignited a fire within him. Memories of the training he received in youth and the thrill of combat rushed to the forefront of his mind.
However, a mixture of emotions churned within Harwin's heart. While he longed to share his knowledge with Jace, he also hesitated. Jace was still quite young and to be trained at such an age was nearly unheard of. Jace, a symbol of innocence that deserved protection as Rhaenyra has said. Harwin's mind filled with memories, images of crimson stained swords and fallen comrades flashed through his mind, reminding him of the harsh realities that lay beyond the safety of the red keep. The conflict within him intensified, torn between his eagerness to impart his skills and his desire to shield Jace from the potential dangers.
"But... but I want to learn, Father," Jace's determined expression faltered slightly, his young voice seeming to indicate he had some degree of understanding. "I can be strong, and I won't hurt myself. Please, Father."
Harwin couldn't help but smile, a bubble of pride forming. Though uncertainty filled him as well, Had he truly been so obvious that even his son who was barely past his second name day could discern the truth. He admired Jace's unwavering spirit, seeing in him a reflection of his own fierce will. Yet, Harwin remained steadfast in his concerns.
"Jace, I know your spirit is strong," Harwin replied, his voice a delicate blend of love and reason. "But the sword is a tool of great power, one that requires patience and discipline. It is a path meant for grown men, who have honed both their bodies and minds."
Jace's face fell, disappointment etched across his features. He seemed to understand, in his own innocent way, his father's reservations. However, his determination burned brightly, and his voice rose once again, expressing his longing to follow in his footsteps.
"But... but I can learn, Father. I can be strong like you," Jace persisted, his voice a mixture of innocence and defiance.
Harwin felt a great pride in that moment. He softly patted Jace's head.
"You already are strong Jace, though I must ask why do you call me father?"
Jace looked upwards, with a strangely serious face. "You treat me as some treat their son is all, I understand it must not be said and kept hidden, though please be careful father I do not want anything to happen to you, or mother."
Harwin took a deep breath. "I am not your father Jace, But I would be proud to be."
Jace looked accepting of his words, though the unease that filled his mind. Imagining his son concerning himself with this at his age… Was it possible for a heart to break like glass?
Maybe his son did need a distraction, he was much too intuitive for a strong.
Harwin stood tall, sword in hand, as Jace watched with wide eyes and eager anticipation as he did his best to hold a small stick. The crackling of the fire filled the room, casting a warm glow that danced upon their faces.
"Jace, my boy," Harwin began, his voice steady and filled with excitement. "Let me show you the first maneuver, the sidestep. It's a move that can help you evade an enemy's strike and create an opportunity for a counterattack."
Jace's eyes sparkled with curiosity as he tilted his head, awaiting his father's instruction.
"First, stand with your feet shoulder-width apart," Harwin explained, demonstrating the proper stance. "Now, when your opponent comes at you, you quickly shift your weight to the side, stepping to the side with one foot while keeping the other foot grounded. Lean away from the strike, like this."
Harwin gracefully performed the sidestep, ensuring his movements fluidity and precision. Jace seemed captivated, trying to absorb every detail.
"Now, it's your turn, Jace," Harwin encouraged, extending his hand towards his son. "Step to the side with me and mimic my movements. Remember, it's all about balance and proper footwork."
Jace took his hand, trying his best to follow along. They stepped together, performing the sidestep maneuver in unison. Jace stumbled a bit, but Harwin's focus ensured his safety.
"Good, Jace!" Harwin praised, a soft smile spreading across his face. "Now, let's move on to the thrust. It's a powerful offensive move used to pierce through your opponent's defenses."
Harwin adjusted his grip on the sword and demonstrated the thrust, extending his arm forward with precision.
"You see, Jace," Harwin continued, his voice developing a prideful tone. "You aim to drive the sword forward, using your shoulder and wrist to deliver the thrust. Keep your stance strong and focused, and strike where your opponent is vulnerable."
Jace listened intently, his eyes fixed on his father's every move. After Harwin's explanation, it was Jace's turn to attempt the maneuver.
"Alright, Jace, give it a try," Harwin encouraged, stepping back to allow his son room to perform the thrust. "Remember, focus your strength and precision into the strike."
Jace took a deep breath, summoning his determination. He extended his arm forward, mimicking his father's earlier demonstration. Though his execution wasn't perfect, the spark of potential was evident.
Harwin's astonishment was palpable as he watched his young son attempt the maneuver. "You... you remembered, Jace," he marveled, his voice a mix of surprise and joy. "You recalled the maneuver and its name. It's remarkable for a boy so young."
Harwin couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder and pride at Jace's unexpected display of comprehension and retention. It fueled hope for the future, envisioning the training sessions to come when Jace was of proper age.
Just as Harwin was about to speak farther words of encouragement to Jace, a sudden resounding of footsteps reverberated near the entrance of the room, jolting Harwin from his thoughts. His brows furrowed in confusion as he made his way to investigate who was near, leaving Jace by the hearth, bathed in the warm, flickering glow.
To his shock, standing before him was none other than Queen Alicent Hightower herself. Her presence sent a shiver down Harwin's spine. "Your grace?"
"Ah, Commander Strong, this is where you've been. You are needed," the queen's voice carried a cool edge, as if relishing the opportunity to disrupt Harwin's moment of tranquility with his son.
Harwin's mind filled with caution as he tried to gauge the purpose of her unexpected visit. There were times he saw the good side of the queen but he knew of what she spoke of around the keep, knew Rhaenyra's warnings were not to be taken lightly. "What is the issue?" he inquired, his voice laced with a mix of trepidation and a desire to fulfill his duty.
"It is best to show you, as you know I have great investment in the cities well being." the queen replied, her tone dripping with authority, leaving little room for further questioning.
Out of habit, Harwin glanced back at Jace, ensuring his son was still safe and content by the hearth. In that moment, he felt a surge of gratitude that Jace appeared neither tearful nor overly energetic, seemingly accepting of the situation. Despite his glee of practice just moments past.
"I have sent for Laenor, worry not I'm sure the boy's father is plenty equipped for the task of keeping an eye on him." the queen remarked, her words causing a lump to form in his throat.
He couldn't help but wonder about the true nature of her request and the potential consequences it held. The interruption had cut their lesson short, leaving Harwin with a tinge of regret. He feared that this unexpected visit might be driven by a cruel intention to separate him from Jacaerys, to tear them apart and disrupt one of the few bonding moments they've shared.
What would the queen think of his tutelage of the young boy? A young boy that was not supposed to be his?
Rhaenyra's wrath awaited him, and Harwin swallowed nervously, his mouth suddenly dry.
As Harwin accompanied Queen Alicent through the corridors of the Red Keep, their footsteps echoed, resonating within the grandeur of the castle. Despite knowing his focus should be on whatever task the queen wished him to address. He could not get thoughts of Jacaerys off his mind.
"Do you often spend time observing Rhaenyra's firstborn?" the Queen inquired, her voice breaking the silence.
Harwin's thoughts momentarily shifted, caught off guard by the unexpected question. "It is an unusual occurrence," he replied, his voice betraying a hint of uncertainty.
Alicent pressed further, her curiosity evident. "And do you dedicate your time to watching and training other children as well?"
The air seemed to grow heavier around Harwin, beads of nervous sweat forming on the back of his neck. "I have, from time to time," he admitted, his words measured. "I believe there is value in teaching children the ways of the sword on a more personal level."
Alicent's response carried a touch of heated tension. "Of course, the strength of the warrior resides in the blade, a skill that must be honed. However, would you not agree that the boy's father is better suited for such a task?"
Harwin sensed the subtle shift in Alicent's tone, a lightly aggressive edge creeping in. "Yes, perhaps he would be a better fit. I simply thought I could offer the boy guidance in response to his curiosity."
"Perhaps it would be more fitting for you to focus your attention on training and educating the greenboys of the city watch in the ways of the sword," Alicent suggested firmly, her words laced with an implicit expectation. "The boy shows great eagerness, and it seems more appropriate for the Velaryons to oversee their own kin's training."
As the Queen stopped at the doors to a chamber, knocking briefly, Harwin took a moment to release a long-held breath, attempting to regain his composure before facing the impending discussion.
A familiar face awaited—Lyman Beesbury, the Master of Coin, renowned for his shrewd management of the realm's finances. He had been in the presence of the Master of Coin before, but this encounter felt distinct.
"Queen Alicent, I thank you for bringing Commander Strong," Lord Beesbury bowed to the queen and greeted Harwin, his gaze carrying a stern demeanor. "We have a pressing matter to discuss."
Harwin inclined his head respectfully, His mind raced, trying to guess the nature of the matter at hand. He knew that when the Master of Coin called upon him, it typically meant a matter of great importance loomed on the horizon.
"I take the concerns of the people of Kings Landing with great importance lord beesbury it is no trouble" Alicent said leaving abruptly. Harwin felt the tension seem to leave with her. Taking a series of breaths to regain focus on what Beesbury wished to speak on.
Lyman Beesbury's eyes bore into Harwin's, displaying a blend of disappointment and concern that sent a shiver down his spine.
"Several businesses along the Street of Silk have fallen to a wave of thieves in the past few hours," Lord Beesbury revealed, with concern. "It seems the The frequency and audacity of these break-ins have escalated, causing a significant strain on the city's funds."
Harwin's brows furrowed, his mind racing to comprehend the full impact of the thefts. Several in the past hour? My gods the men will be livid with the amount of patrols he'll have to designate now.
"Master Beesbury, I assure you that the city watch has been quite diligent in their duties," Harwin defended, frustration building in his voice.
Beesbury's expression softened slightly as he took in Harwin's response.
"Captain Strong, the security of our streets is paramount for the prosperity of the city," Lyman Beesbury emphasized, his tone firm. "We must find a way to restore order and deter these criminals. The city's coffers cannot withstand such losses."
A surge of determination swelled within Harwin, he had to regain the trust of the city's officials, and prevent his reputation as commander from being tarnished. It was his duty to the people, and the kingdom.
"Master Beesbury, I pledge to take immediate action to address these break ins." Harwin declared resolute. "I will bolster our patrols, enhance our surveillance measures, and unceasingly pursue those responsible. King's Landing's streets will be made safe once again."
Beesbury nodded, his eyes conveying a measured respect. "I have faith you will prove capable, Commander Strong. The city depends on it."
Harwin steeled himself for what lay ahead. He was determined to prove himself, and restore order to the streets. The weight of responsibility settling firmly upon his shoulders.
A.N. Hope everyone enjoys the new pov. Curious everyones thoughts on the characterizations.
Lucerys had entered the world a month past, his cries resonating through the air with the vigor of a newborn. Harwin observed from a distance, a mix of joy and trepidation coursing through him. His thoughts turned to Jace, his firstborn, who quickly embraced the role of an older brother with great enthusiasm. It was a sight to behold, witnessing Jace's gentle lullaby to his newborn sibling. The melody wafted through the air, foreign yet oddly comforting.
"Go to sleep, go to sleep, go to sleep, little Lucy," Jace crooned, his voice filled with tenderness.
Harwin couldn't help but feel a mild discomfort. Lucy was undeniably a feminine name, and as he gazed at his infant son oddly.
"His name is Lucerys, Jace," Harwin gently reminded his son.
Jace looked up, his eyes pleading. "I know, but Lucy fits the song better," he replied, a touch of innocence in his voice.
Harwin contemplated Jace's words and found himself reluctantly agreeing. His son had a liking to shortening names, there was a certain charm in the way Jace sang, and if the name Lucy brought solace to his eldest son's heart, perhaps it wasn't worth challenging.
Harwin glimpsed a distant look in Jace's eyes, as if an invisible barricade stood between them. It pained Harwin to witness this distance, leaving him to wonder about what within his son's heart caused this behavior. He held a desire to truly know his son, but it felt as though despite his young tender age, it was a one way desire.
Harwin recognized that he couldn't entirely blame Jace for his guarded nature. The circumstances they found themselves in were far from ideal, burdening Jace with responsibilities that no child should bear. Though he did not feel like that would be felt by such a young boy. Harwin yearned for a closeness that seemed perpetually out of reach.
Yet, amidst the complexities of their relationship, Harwin discovered solace in the moments when Jace's gaze turned with admiration for the swords worn by men throughout the keep and town. The awe that ignited in Jace's eyes at the sight of gleaming steel was a joy to behold. Jacaerys would no doubt take to the sword as he himself did as a boy.
Looking down at Lucerys, Harwin's mind held hope and selfish desire. He prayed that with his second son, their bond would be stronger, their connection deeper.
Some days later, seated in the grandeur of the Red Keep, Harwin and Jace found themselves nestled in a cozy corner near a crackling hearth. The warmth of the fire radiated throughout the room, casting shadows on the stone walls.
Jace's small fingers danced along the armrest of Harwin's chair, his gaze wandering to the gleaming swords displayed on the walls. The scent of burning wood permeated the air. It was within this blissful moment that Jace asked a question, his voice carrying an atypical eagerness.
"Commander Strong, can I learn the sword?" Jace's words tumbled out, the enthusiasm in his voice matching the flames that danced before them.
Harwin felt a joy form in his chest. Jace's desire mirroring his very own. The prospect of teaching him the ways of the sword ignited a fire within him. Memories of the training he received in youth and the thrill of combat rushed to the forefront of his mind.
However, a mixture of emotions churned within Harwin's heart. While he longed to share his knowledge with Jace, he also hesitated. Jace was still quite young and to be trained at such an age was nearly unheard of. Jace, a symbol of innocence that deserved protection as Rhaenyra has said. Harwin's mind filled with memories, images of crimson stained swords and fallen comrades flashed through his mind, reminding him of the harsh realities that lay beyond the safety of the red keep. The conflict within him intensified, torn between his eagerness to impart his skills and his desire to shield Jace from the potential dangers.
"But... but I want to learn, Father," Jace's determined expression faltered slightly, his young voice seeming to indicate he had some degree of understanding. "I can be strong, and I won't hurt myself. Please, Father."
Harwin couldn't help but smile, a bubble of pride forming. Though uncertainty filled him as well, Had he truly been so obvious that even his son who was barely past his second name day could discern the truth. He admired Jace's unwavering spirit, seeing in him a reflection of his own fierce will. Yet, Harwin remained steadfast in his concerns.
"Jace, I know your spirit is strong," Harwin replied, his voice a delicate blend of love and reason. "But the sword is a tool of great power, one that requires patience and discipline. It is a path meant for grown men, who have honed both their bodies and minds."
Jace's face fell, disappointment etched across his features. He seemed to understand, in his own innocent way, his father's reservations. However, his determination burned brightly, and his voice rose once again, expressing his longing to follow in his footsteps.
"But... but I can learn, Father. I can be strong like you," Jace persisted, his voice a mixture of innocence and defiance.
Harwin felt a great pride in that moment. He softly patted Jace's head.
"You already are strong Jace, though I must ask why do you call me father?"
Jace looked upwards, with a strangely serious face. "You treat me as some treat their son is all, I understand it must not be said and kept hidden, though please be careful father I do not want anything to happen to you, or mother."
Harwin took a deep breath. "I am not your father Jace, But I would be proud to be."
Jace looked accepting of his words, though the unease that filled his mind. Imagining his son concerning himself with this at his age… Was it possible for a heart to break like glass?
Maybe his son did need a distraction, he was much too intuitive for a strong.
Harwin stood tall, sword in hand, as Jace watched with wide eyes and eager anticipation as he did his best to hold a small stick. The crackling of the fire filled the room, casting a warm glow that danced upon their faces.
"Jace, my boy," Harwin began, his voice steady and filled with excitement. "Let me show you the first maneuver, the sidestep. It's a move that can help you evade an enemy's strike and create an opportunity for a counterattack."
Jace's eyes sparkled with curiosity as he tilted his head, awaiting his father's instruction.
"First, stand with your feet shoulder-width apart," Harwin explained, demonstrating the proper stance. "Now, when your opponent comes at you, you quickly shift your weight to the side, stepping to the side with one foot while keeping the other foot grounded. Lean away from the strike, like this."
Harwin gracefully performed the sidestep, ensuring his movements fluidity and precision. Jace seemed captivated, trying to absorb every detail.
"Now, it's your turn, Jace," Harwin encouraged, extending his hand towards his son. "Step to the side with me and mimic my movements. Remember, it's all about balance and proper footwork."
Jace took his hand, trying his best to follow along. They stepped together, performing the sidestep maneuver in unison. Jace stumbled a bit, but Harwin's focus ensured his safety.
"Good, Jace!" Harwin praised, a soft smile spreading across his face. "Now, let's move on to the thrust. It's a powerful offensive move used to pierce through your opponent's defenses."
Harwin adjusted his grip on the sword and demonstrated the thrust, extending his arm forward with precision.
"You see, Jace," Harwin continued, his voice developing a prideful tone. "You aim to drive the sword forward, using your shoulder and wrist to deliver the thrust. Keep your stance strong and focused, and strike where your opponent is vulnerable."
Jace listened intently, his eyes fixed on his father's every move. After Harwin's explanation, it was Jace's turn to attempt the maneuver.
"Alright, Jace, give it a try," Harwin encouraged, stepping back to allow his son room to perform the thrust. "Remember, focus your strength and precision into the strike."
Jace took a deep breath, summoning his determination. He extended his arm forward, mimicking his father's earlier demonstration. Though his execution wasn't perfect, the spark of potential was evident.
Harwin's astonishment was palpable as he watched his young son attempt the maneuver. "You... you remembered, Jace," he marveled, his voice a mix of surprise and joy. "You recalled the maneuver and its name. It's remarkable for a boy so young."
Harwin couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder and pride at Jace's unexpected display of comprehension and retention. It fueled hope for the future, envisioning the training sessions to come when Jace was of proper age.
Just as Harwin was about to speak farther words of encouragement to Jace, a sudden resounding of footsteps reverberated near the entrance of the room, jolting Harwin from his thoughts. His brows furrowed in confusion as he made his way to investigate who was near, leaving Jace by the hearth, bathed in the warm, flickering glow.
To his shock, standing before him was none other than Queen Alicent Hightower herself. Her presence sent a shiver down Harwin's spine. "Your grace?"
"Ah, Commander Strong, this is where you've been. You are needed," the queen's voice carried a cool edge, as if relishing the opportunity to disrupt Harwin's moment of tranquility with his son.
Harwin's mind filled with caution as he tried to gauge the purpose of her unexpected visit. There were times he saw the good side of the queen but he knew of what she spoke of around the keep, knew Rhaenyra's warnings were not to be taken lightly. "What is the issue?" he inquired, his voice laced with a mix of trepidation and a desire to fulfill his duty.
"It is best to show you, as you know I have great investment in the cities well being." the queen replied, her tone dripping with authority, leaving little room for further questioning.
Out of habit, Harwin glanced back at Jace, ensuring his son was still safe and content by the hearth. In that moment, he felt a surge of gratitude that Jace appeared neither tearful nor overly energetic, seemingly accepting of the situation. Despite his glee of practice just moments past.
"I have sent for Laenor, worry not I'm sure the boy's father is plenty equipped for the task of keeping an eye on him." the queen remarked, her words causing a lump to form in his throat.
He couldn't help but wonder about the true nature of her request and the potential consequences it held. The interruption had cut their lesson short, leaving Harwin with a tinge of regret. He feared that this unexpected visit might be driven by a cruel intention to separate him from Jacaerys, to tear them apart and disrupt one of the few bonding moments they've shared.
What would the queen think of his tutelage of the young boy? A young boy that was not supposed to be his?
Rhaenyra's wrath awaited him, and Harwin swallowed nervously, his mouth suddenly dry.
As Harwin accompanied Queen Alicent through the corridors of the Red Keep, their footsteps echoed, resonating within the grandeur of the castle. Despite knowing his focus should be on whatever task the queen wished him to address. He could not get thoughts of Jacaerys off his mind.
"Do you often spend time observing Rhaenyra's firstborn?" the Queen inquired, her voice breaking the silence.
Harwin's thoughts momentarily shifted, caught off guard by the unexpected question. "It is an unusual occurrence," he replied, his voice betraying a hint of uncertainty.
Alicent pressed further, her curiosity evident. "And do you dedicate your time to watching and training other children as well?"
The air seemed to grow heavier around Harwin, beads of nervous sweat forming on the back of his neck. "I have, from time to time," he admitted, his words measured. "I believe there is value in teaching children the ways of the sword on a more personal level."
Alicent's response carried a touch of heated tension. "Of course, the strength of the warrior resides in the blade, a skill that must be honed. However, would you not agree that the boy's father is better suited for such a task?"
Harwin sensed the subtle shift in Alicent's tone, a lightly aggressive edge creeping in. "Yes, perhaps he would be a better fit. I simply thought I could offer the boy guidance in response to his curiosity."
"Perhaps it would be more fitting for you to focus your attention on training and educating the greenboys of the city watch in the ways of the sword," Alicent suggested firmly, her words laced with an implicit expectation. "The boy shows great eagerness, and it seems more appropriate for the Velaryons to oversee their own kin's training."
As the Queen stopped at the doors to a chamber, knocking briefly, Harwin took a moment to release a long-held breath, attempting to regain his composure before facing the impending discussion.
A familiar face awaited—Lyman Beesbury, the Master of Coin, renowned for his shrewd management of the realm's finances. He had been in the presence of the Master of Coin before, but this encounter felt distinct.
"Queen Alicent, I thank you for bringing Commander Strong," Lord Beesbury bowed to the queen and greeted Harwin, his gaze carrying a stern demeanor. "We have a pressing matter to discuss."
Harwin inclined his head respectfully, His mind raced, trying to guess the nature of the matter at hand. He knew that when the Master of Coin called upon him, it typically meant a matter of great importance loomed on the horizon.
"I take the concerns of the people of Kings Landing with great importance lord beesbury it is no trouble" Alicent said leaving abruptly. Harwin felt the tension seem to leave with her. Taking a series of breaths to regain focus on what Beesbury wished to speak on.
Lyman Beesbury's eyes bore into Harwin's, displaying a blend of disappointment and concern that sent a shiver down his spine.
"Several businesses along the Street of Silk have fallen to a wave of thieves in the past few hours," Lord Beesbury revealed, with concern. "It seems the The frequency and audacity of these break-ins have escalated, causing a significant strain on the city's funds."
Harwin's brows furrowed, his mind racing to comprehend the full impact of the thefts. Several in the past hour? My gods the men will be livid with the amount of patrols he'll have to designate now.
"Master Beesbury, I assure you that the city watch has been quite diligent in their duties," Harwin defended, frustration building in his voice.
Beesbury's expression softened slightly as he took in Harwin's response.
"Captain Strong, the security of our streets is paramount for the prosperity of the city," Lyman Beesbury emphasized, his tone firm. "We must find a way to restore order and deter these criminals. The city's coffers cannot withstand such losses."
A surge of determination swelled within Harwin, he had to regain the trust of the city's officials, and prevent his reputation as commander from being tarnished. It was his duty to the people, and the kingdom.
"Master Beesbury, I pledge to take immediate action to address these break ins." Harwin declared resolute. "I will bolster our patrols, enhance our surveillance measures, and unceasingly pursue those responsible. King's Landing's streets will be made safe once again."
Beesbury nodded, his eyes conveying a measured respect. "I have faith you will prove capable, Commander Strong. The city depends on it."
Harwin steeled himself for what lay ahead. He was determined to prove himself, and restore order to the streets. The weight of responsibility settling firmly upon his shoulders.
A.N. Hope everyone enjoys the new pov. Curious everyones thoughts on the characterizations.
FireWalkWithMe99
Making the rounds.
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I fixed it but that tag existed already. Like it's one of the tags that appeared when I typed "self in"
Joshua Thomas
Getting some practice in, huh?
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Sounds promising with alot of potential actions and consequences looking forward to your story
Chapter 3: Laenor I
FireWalkWithMe99
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Laenor I
Laenor stood by the window, his gaze fixed on the scene unfolding in the garden below. The afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the courtyard, illuminating the two children who danced across the grass with a joyful abandon that only the very young could possess. Jacaery's laughter rang out, clear and bright, as he darted after Helaena, who moved with an ethereal grace, her silver hair flowing like a river of light behind her.
Their play was a spontaneous thing Jace brought on full of exuberance and innocence. They seemed to be engaged in a game of chase, though the rules were known only to them. Jace would lunge forward, arms outstretched, trying to catch Helaena, who would giggle and twirl away, always just out of reach. Her movements were odd, almost otherworldly, as if she existed in a realm slightly out of sync with the rest of them. But it was this oddness that endeared her to Laenor more than he would have expected.
In many ways, their innocent camaraderie reminded Laenor of the simpler times of his own youth, before duty and expectations had weighed so heavily on his shoulders. His marriage to Rhaenyra, while a strategic alliance, had grown into a deep and genuine friendship. He cared for her, even loved her in his own way, but it was a love borne of companionship, not the passionate love stories told in Bravosi plays. His heart had always belonged elsewhere, but that did not diminish the profound affection he held for Rhaenyra's children. They were not of his blood, but they were of his heart, and that was what mattered.
Jace, in particular, was a curious child, his mind always reaching out to understand the world around him. Laenor couldn't help but feel a surge of pride when the boy expressed an eagerness to learn various skills. Seamanship was one of them, a subject close to Laenor's own heart. "A boy of the Velaryon line," his father had often said, "must know the sea as he knows himself." The idea that Jace wanted to follow in those footsteps filled Laenor with a sense of fulfillment. It was a tradition, a legacy, that he could pass on, even if they were not related by blood.
But Jace's interests didn't stop at the expected. Swordsmanship, yes, and delving deeper into the Valyrian language, these were natural choices, befitting the noble lineage he was a part of. But then came the more peculiar requests: learning to play the lyre, exploring the art of blacksmithing, and, most surprisingly, a desire to study the Old Tongue—a language long forgotten by most, barely even mentioned in passing by the maesters.
Later that day, Laenor sought out Rhaenyra to discuss their first childs unique interests. He found her in her chambers, Looking over a letter, in the familiar lettering of Daemon, hand gently cradling the slight swell of her stomach. Her pregnancy was progressing, and with it, the anticipation of another child added to the complex weave of their lives. As Laenor relayed Jace's requests, he watched Rhaenyra closely. There was a moment of hesitation in her eyes, a fleeting doubt, but in the end, she relented.
Laenor had watched Rhaenyra's reaction when Jace voiced these desires. The slight furrow of her brow, the way her lips pressed together—a clear sign of her discomfort. The Old Tongue, in particular, seemed to trouble her. But Laenor didn't see any harm in it. Children were curious by nature, and Jace's curiosity was something to be nurtured, not stifled. Tough he did wonder What reason Jace's desire to learn the Old Tongue came from beyond brief mention in lessons? It wasn't something commonly spoken of, not in their household and certainly not among Alicent's ilk given the womans belief the old tongue is heretical due to its origin to the worship of the old gods.
"If these are the things he wishes to learn," Rhaenyra said, her voice thoughtful, "then let him learn. It cannot hurt to be well-versed in various skills, even those that seem unconventional. Truthfully it may help with relations in the north and vale? He will likely have to deal with those who speak such languages, whether in the North or the mountains of the eyrie. Most know common as well in this age but even still it could impress some houses putting them farther in our favor."
Laenor nodded, a sense of relief washing over him. He knew Rhaenyra's protective instincts were strong, but she also understood the importance of allowing Jace the freedom to explore his interests.
The next day, Laenor awoke with a pleasant excitement within. Today was not just any day—it was a day to share one of his greatest passions with Jace. As they made their way to the port, Laenor's heart swelled with anticipation. The sight of the beloved galleon the Seasmoke, anchored in the distance, made him feel a dragon's pride. The ship's sails billowed majestically in the wind, catching the sunlight as the waves gently lapped against the hull, creating a rhythmic melody that resonated deep within Laenor's soul.
Stepping onto the deck, Laenor felt a rush of joy and nostalgia that was almost overwhelming. The salty scent of the sea filled his lungs, and the familiar sway of a docked ship a jolly smile to his face. This was where he felt most alive—aboard a ship, with the open sea stretching endlessly before him.
Jace's beautiful eyes widened as he looked around, darting from one part of the ship to another, trying to take it all in. The boy's small hands reached out to touch the ropes and woodwork, his fingers tracing the grain of the wood as if trying to understand the secrets it held. Laenor watched him closely, noticing the intensity in Jace's gaze—a curiosity that reminded him so much of his sister Laena. As a child, Laena had once become utterly fascinated with a simple rock on Driftmark, seeing beauty and mystery in what others deemed ordinary. Perhaps Jace shared that same ability to see the extraordinary in the mundane.
As they walked the deck, Laenor decided it was time to introduce Jace to the intricacies of the ship. "You see those sails up there?" Laenor pointed upwards, drawing Jace's attention to the towering masts. "Those are what catch the wind and propel us forward. Without them, we're at the mercy of the sea's currents."
Laenor's voice was filled with enthusiasm as he continued, his hands gesturing animatedly. "Each sail has a purpose, from the large mainsail to the smaller jibs and staysails. These allow us to adjust course and speed, depending on the wind's favor. And the ropes—those are the lines and sheets—are what control the sails. Every rope you see here connects to a specific part of the rigging, and each has a role in guiding the ship."
As they moved closer to the bow, Laenor noticed one of his crew members struggling with a halyard, the line used to hoist the sails. The young sailor was fumbling, his inexperience evident as he tried to secure the rope properly.
"Hold on there!" Laenor called out, his voice carrying a mix of authority and encouragement. He approached the sailor, placing a firm but gentle hand on his shoulder. "You've got the halyard twisted. It needs to be free of knots and tangles, or else the sail won't rise smoothly."
Laenor expertly demonstrated the correct technique, his hands moving with practiced ease as he untangled the rope and pulled it taut. The sail above them responded immediately, unfurling with a crisp snap as it caught the wind. The sailor nodded gratefully, visibly relieved to have the task done correctly.
Turning back to Jace, Laenor smiled, seeing the boy's eyes light up with understanding. "You see, Jace," he explained, "a ship is like a living thing. Every part of it works together, and the crew must be in sync with one another, just like the ropes and sails. One mistake, one misstep, and it can throw everything off balance. Given this a ships entire crew is important, just as it a kingdom."
As he continued to lead jace around the ship, Laenor took Jace to the helm, where the ship's wheel stood. "This is where the ship is steered," Laenor said, resting his hands on the polished wood. "The wheel controls the rudder below, which directs the ship's course. It takes a steady hand to guide a ship through rough waters. The sea is unpredictable, and you must always be prepared to face its challenges."
Jace had the look he had when he was listening intently, an unusual but appreciated trait for a child of six. Yet here he was intently absorbing every word with the wide-eyed wonder. Laenor felt a deep sense of satisfaction, passing on knowledge that had been in the Velaryon family for generations. His bloodline that had ruled the seas for centuries he hoped despite the lack of blood that trait passes on to his first and second born.
As they walked the ship's length, Laenor looked down to Jace who was squinting at the crew quarters in the distance. "This here," Laenor began, gesturing toward the front of the ship, "is the forecastle. It's where the crew sleeps when they're not on duty. It's cramped and a bit rough, but the men take pride in it. They hang their hammocks here, and after a long day of work, there's nothing quite like the rocking of the ship to lull them to sleep."
Jace peered into the forecastle, his nose wrinkling slightly at the sight of the hammocks swaying gently in the dimly lit space. "Do they really sleep in those, Father? They look... uncomfortable."
Laenor chuckled. "They do. It takes some getting used to, but after a while, it's as comfortable as any bed on land. The sea becomes a part of you, and the gentle sway of the ship is like a mother's embrace."
Jace rolled his eyes at the comment, which confused Laenor. Satisfied that his words had at least sparked a bit of thought in the boy, Laenor led him onward.
By the time they reached the stern, where the captain's quarters were located, Laenor could see the spark in Jace's eyes, a reflection of his own deep-seated passion for the sea. Though he seemed to dislike the inside of the ship based on his odd behavior, Jace had been so eager on deck, became quiet and hesitant when it came ot the dimly lit spaces where the crew lived and worked. His brow furrowed slightly as he scrutinized the hammocks swaying gently in the forecastle, the small, functional galley, and the storage spaces crammed with supplies.
Jace's behavior was puzzling to Laenor. It wasn't just the typical curiosity of a child—there was a subtle discomfort in the way Jace looked at the interior of the ship, as if he were analyzing and judging every detail, finding something lacking in these necessary but unglamorous parts of seafaring life. Laenor could see the boy's enthusiasm waning as they moved through the living quarters, a stark contrast to the excitement he'd shown on deck.
Laenor wondered if it was the starkness of the spaces that unsettled Jace—the contrast between the freedom of the open sea and the confined, utilitarian nature of the ship's interior. The boy was still young, after all, and perhaps not yet able to appreciate the necessity and functionality of these spaces.
As the day drew to a close, they returned to shore, where a raven awaited with a letter from his sister Laena.
As Laenor folded the letter and tucked it away, he couldn't help but feel a renewed sense of purpose. Family, in all its forms, was what anchored him. And as he looked down at Jace, who was now gazing out at the sea with wonder, Laenor knew that he would do everything he could to guide him, to protect him, and to ensure that the boy had every opportunity to forge his own path, just as Laenor had done before him.
He read his sister's letter with great interest
My dearest brother Laenor,
I hope this raven finds you in good health and high spirits. As I sit here in the grand city of Pentos, surrounded by its vibrant beauty, my heart aches for your presence. The streets are alive with minstrels and revelry, and I yearn to share this joyous atmosphere with you and Jace.
In my heart, I long to see you, my dear brother, and to meet my newest nephew, Lucerys. I can imagine the troubles and delight he brings to your lives if he's anything like my dear Baela. Please give Jacaerys a tender kiss on my behalf and cherish these early moments together. I eagerly await the day when I can hold him in my arms again.
Rhaena and Baela, your spirited nieces, speak of you with such fondness and admiration. They eagerly anticipate your return and the joyous reunions that will follow. You hold a special place in their hearts, dear Laenor, and your presence is deeply missed. They long to share laughter, and adventures with their beloved uncle once again.
As I put ink to parchment, my mind drifts to the skies and the exhilarating experience of riding on dragonback. I recall the rush of wind against my face, the breathtaking views of the world below, and the profound connection with the magnificent creature beneath me. Dragonriding has become a true passion of mine, such freedom among the skies, the boats im familiar looking as ants below.
Although I am surrounded by the enchanting sights of Pentos, my heart yearns for the familiar comforts of home. The sea that stretches beyond the city, reminds me of our little adventures in youth. The waves dance and shimmer under the sunlight, painting a mesmerizing tapestry of colors. It is during these moments that I feel closest to you and our shared love for the open seas.
In closing, my dear brother, I implore you to consider visiting Pentos. I long for the day when we may reunite, and create new memories together my dear nephews among them. As me and Daemon soar through the sky on dragonback, I will look down upon the world and imagine you by my side, feeling the rush of the wind and the sheer joy of our shared love for the skies.
With all my love and longing,
Lady Laena Velaryon
A.N. It's been a long while and I apologize. Since I started writing daily or bi daily i've managed to update most the stories I have on hiatus. So I plan to continue this trend, I would like to get chapters out more often, and hope with time I manage a good organization method for this.
Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter, next chapter will be the first non team black pov curious if anyone will guess who
Laenor stood by the window, his gaze fixed on the scene unfolding in the garden below. The afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the courtyard, illuminating the two children who danced across the grass with a joyful abandon that only the very young could possess. Jacaery's laughter rang out, clear and bright, as he darted after Helaena, who moved with an ethereal grace, her silver hair flowing like a river of light behind her.
Their play was a spontaneous thing Jace brought on full of exuberance and innocence. They seemed to be engaged in a game of chase, though the rules were known only to them. Jace would lunge forward, arms outstretched, trying to catch Helaena, who would giggle and twirl away, always just out of reach. Her movements were odd, almost otherworldly, as if she existed in a realm slightly out of sync with the rest of them. But it was this oddness that endeared her to Laenor more than he would have expected.
In many ways, their innocent camaraderie reminded Laenor of the simpler times of his own youth, before duty and expectations had weighed so heavily on his shoulders. His marriage to Rhaenyra, while a strategic alliance, had grown into a deep and genuine friendship. He cared for her, even loved her in his own way, but it was a love borne of companionship, not the passionate love stories told in Bravosi plays. His heart had always belonged elsewhere, but that did not diminish the profound affection he held for Rhaenyra's children. They were not of his blood, but they were of his heart, and that was what mattered.
Jace, in particular, was a curious child, his mind always reaching out to understand the world around him. Laenor couldn't help but feel a surge of pride when the boy expressed an eagerness to learn various skills. Seamanship was one of them, a subject close to Laenor's own heart. "A boy of the Velaryon line," his father had often said, "must know the sea as he knows himself." The idea that Jace wanted to follow in those footsteps filled Laenor with a sense of fulfillment. It was a tradition, a legacy, that he could pass on, even if they were not related by blood.
But Jace's interests didn't stop at the expected. Swordsmanship, yes, and delving deeper into the Valyrian language, these were natural choices, befitting the noble lineage he was a part of. But then came the more peculiar requests: learning to play the lyre, exploring the art of blacksmithing, and, most surprisingly, a desire to study the Old Tongue—a language long forgotten by most, barely even mentioned in passing by the maesters.
Later that day, Laenor sought out Rhaenyra to discuss their first childs unique interests. He found her in her chambers, Looking over a letter, in the familiar lettering of Daemon, hand gently cradling the slight swell of her stomach. Her pregnancy was progressing, and with it, the anticipation of another child added to the complex weave of their lives. As Laenor relayed Jace's requests, he watched Rhaenyra closely. There was a moment of hesitation in her eyes, a fleeting doubt, but in the end, she relented.
Laenor had watched Rhaenyra's reaction when Jace voiced these desires. The slight furrow of her brow, the way her lips pressed together—a clear sign of her discomfort. The Old Tongue, in particular, seemed to trouble her. But Laenor didn't see any harm in it. Children were curious by nature, and Jace's curiosity was something to be nurtured, not stifled. Tough he did wonder What reason Jace's desire to learn the Old Tongue came from beyond brief mention in lessons? It wasn't something commonly spoken of, not in their household and certainly not among Alicent's ilk given the womans belief the old tongue is heretical due to its origin to the worship of the old gods.
"If these are the things he wishes to learn," Rhaenyra said, her voice thoughtful, "then let him learn. It cannot hurt to be well-versed in various skills, even those that seem unconventional. Truthfully it may help with relations in the north and vale? He will likely have to deal with those who speak such languages, whether in the North or the mountains of the eyrie. Most know common as well in this age but even still it could impress some houses putting them farther in our favor."
Laenor nodded, a sense of relief washing over him. He knew Rhaenyra's protective instincts were strong, but she also understood the importance of allowing Jace the freedom to explore his interests.
The next day, Laenor awoke with a pleasant excitement within. Today was not just any day—it was a day to share one of his greatest passions with Jace. As they made their way to the port, Laenor's heart swelled with anticipation. The sight of the beloved galleon the Seasmoke, anchored in the distance, made him feel a dragon's pride. The ship's sails billowed majestically in the wind, catching the sunlight as the waves gently lapped against the hull, creating a rhythmic melody that resonated deep within Laenor's soul.
Stepping onto the deck, Laenor felt a rush of joy and nostalgia that was almost overwhelming. The salty scent of the sea filled his lungs, and the familiar sway of a docked ship a jolly smile to his face. This was where he felt most alive—aboard a ship, with the open sea stretching endlessly before him.
Jace's beautiful eyes widened as he looked around, darting from one part of the ship to another, trying to take it all in. The boy's small hands reached out to touch the ropes and woodwork, his fingers tracing the grain of the wood as if trying to understand the secrets it held. Laenor watched him closely, noticing the intensity in Jace's gaze—a curiosity that reminded him so much of his sister Laena. As a child, Laena had once become utterly fascinated with a simple rock on Driftmark, seeing beauty and mystery in what others deemed ordinary. Perhaps Jace shared that same ability to see the extraordinary in the mundane.
As they walked the deck, Laenor decided it was time to introduce Jace to the intricacies of the ship. "You see those sails up there?" Laenor pointed upwards, drawing Jace's attention to the towering masts. "Those are what catch the wind and propel us forward. Without them, we're at the mercy of the sea's currents."
Laenor's voice was filled with enthusiasm as he continued, his hands gesturing animatedly. "Each sail has a purpose, from the large mainsail to the smaller jibs and staysails. These allow us to adjust course and speed, depending on the wind's favor. And the ropes—those are the lines and sheets—are what control the sails. Every rope you see here connects to a specific part of the rigging, and each has a role in guiding the ship."
As they moved closer to the bow, Laenor noticed one of his crew members struggling with a halyard, the line used to hoist the sails. The young sailor was fumbling, his inexperience evident as he tried to secure the rope properly.
"Hold on there!" Laenor called out, his voice carrying a mix of authority and encouragement. He approached the sailor, placing a firm but gentle hand on his shoulder. "You've got the halyard twisted. It needs to be free of knots and tangles, or else the sail won't rise smoothly."
Laenor expertly demonstrated the correct technique, his hands moving with practiced ease as he untangled the rope and pulled it taut. The sail above them responded immediately, unfurling with a crisp snap as it caught the wind. The sailor nodded gratefully, visibly relieved to have the task done correctly.
Turning back to Jace, Laenor smiled, seeing the boy's eyes light up with understanding. "You see, Jace," he explained, "a ship is like a living thing. Every part of it works together, and the crew must be in sync with one another, just like the ropes and sails. One mistake, one misstep, and it can throw everything off balance. Given this a ships entire crew is important, just as it a kingdom."
As he continued to lead jace around the ship, Laenor took Jace to the helm, where the ship's wheel stood. "This is where the ship is steered," Laenor said, resting his hands on the polished wood. "The wheel controls the rudder below, which directs the ship's course. It takes a steady hand to guide a ship through rough waters. The sea is unpredictable, and you must always be prepared to face its challenges."
Jace had the look he had when he was listening intently, an unusual but appreciated trait for a child of six. Yet here he was intently absorbing every word with the wide-eyed wonder. Laenor felt a deep sense of satisfaction, passing on knowledge that had been in the Velaryon family for generations. His bloodline that had ruled the seas for centuries he hoped despite the lack of blood that trait passes on to his first and second born.
As they walked the ship's length, Laenor looked down to Jace who was squinting at the crew quarters in the distance. "This here," Laenor began, gesturing toward the front of the ship, "is the forecastle. It's where the crew sleeps when they're not on duty. It's cramped and a bit rough, but the men take pride in it. They hang their hammocks here, and after a long day of work, there's nothing quite like the rocking of the ship to lull them to sleep."
Jace peered into the forecastle, his nose wrinkling slightly at the sight of the hammocks swaying gently in the dimly lit space. "Do they really sleep in those, Father? They look... uncomfortable."
Laenor chuckled. "They do. It takes some getting used to, but after a while, it's as comfortable as any bed on land. The sea becomes a part of you, and the gentle sway of the ship is like a mother's embrace."
Jace rolled his eyes at the comment, which confused Laenor. Satisfied that his words had at least sparked a bit of thought in the boy, Laenor led him onward.
By the time they reached the stern, where the captain's quarters were located, Laenor could see the spark in Jace's eyes, a reflection of his own deep-seated passion for the sea. Though he seemed to dislike the inside of the ship based on his odd behavior, Jace had been so eager on deck, became quiet and hesitant when it came ot the dimly lit spaces where the crew lived and worked. His brow furrowed slightly as he scrutinized the hammocks swaying gently in the forecastle, the small, functional galley, and the storage spaces crammed with supplies.
Jace's behavior was puzzling to Laenor. It wasn't just the typical curiosity of a child—there was a subtle discomfort in the way Jace looked at the interior of the ship, as if he were analyzing and judging every detail, finding something lacking in these necessary but unglamorous parts of seafaring life. Laenor could see the boy's enthusiasm waning as they moved through the living quarters, a stark contrast to the excitement he'd shown on deck.
Laenor wondered if it was the starkness of the spaces that unsettled Jace—the contrast between the freedom of the open sea and the confined, utilitarian nature of the ship's interior. The boy was still young, after all, and perhaps not yet able to appreciate the necessity and functionality of these spaces.
As the day drew to a close, they returned to shore, where a raven awaited with a letter from his sister Laena.
As Laenor folded the letter and tucked it away, he couldn't help but feel a renewed sense of purpose. Family, in all its forms, was what anchored him. And as he looked down at Jace, who was now gazing out at the sea with wonder, Laenor knew that he would do everything he could to guide him, to protect him, and to ensure that the boy had every opportunity to forge his own path, just as Laenor had done before him.
He read his sister's letter with great interest
My dearest brother Laenor,
I hope this raven finds you in good health and high spirits. As I sit here in the grand city of Pentos, surrounded by its vibrant beauty, my heart aches for your presence. The streets are alive with minstrels and revelry, and I yearn to share this joyous atmosphere with you and Jace.
In my heart, I long to see you, my dear brother, and to meet my newest nephew, Lucerys. I can imagine the troubles and delight he brings to your lives if he's anything like my dear Baela. Please give Jacaerys a tender kiss on my behalf and cherish these early moments together. I eagerly await the day when I can hold him in my arms again.
Rhaena and Baela, your spirited nieces, speak of you with such fondness and admiration. They eagerly anticipate your return and the joyous reunions that will follow. You hold a special place in their hearts, dear Laenor, and your presence is deeply missed. They long to share laughter, and adventures with their beloved uncle once again.
As I put ink to parchment, my mind drifts to the skies and the exhilarating experience of riding on dragonback. I recall the rush of wind against my face, the breathtaking views of the world below, and the profound connection with the magnificent creature beneath me. Dragonriding has become a true passion of mine, such freedom among the skies, the boats im familiar looking as ants below.
Although I am surrounded by the enchanting sights of Pentos, my heart yearns for the familiar comforts of home. The sea that stretches beyond the city, reminds me of our little adventures in youth. The waves dance and shimmer under the sunlight, painting a mesmerizing tapestry of colors. It is during these moments that I feel closest to you and our shared love for the open seas.
In closing, my dear brother, I implore you to consider visiting Pentos. I long for the day when we may reunite, and create new memories together my dear nephews among them. As me and Daemon soar through the sky on dragonback, I will look down upon the world and imagine you by my side, feeling the rush of the wind and the sheer joy of our shared love for the skies.
With all my love and longing,
Lady Laena Velaryon
A.N. It's been a long while and I apologize. Since I started writing daily or bi daily i've managed to update most the stories I have on hiatus. So I plan to continue this trend, I would like to get chapters out more often, and hope with time I manage a good organization method for this.
Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter, next chapter will be the first non team black pov curious if anyone will guess who
Simplexity
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The perfect time to kill Aemond is right before he claims Vhagar. It's also the perfect place to hide his body.