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30: The Son of Ice and Fire, White Harbor to Dragonstone
🕑 Added 2024-06-14 23:08:56 +0000 UTCMaekar
White Harbor
He had left Winterfell a week ago and would be arriving in White Harbor soon. The new roads, Stark Roads as his uncle now called them, made his journey easier and faster than it would have otherwise been. The roads were paved with stone, wide and sturdy, allowing for the swift travel of both people and goods.
One day, roads like this would be all over Westeros, that is if his ambitions were realized.
He and his uncle had parted on good terms. A week ago, he had planned to sneak out, fearing his uncle would not let him leave. But to his surprise, Brandon had called him to his solar one evening, given him his blessing, and announced his departure to the castle. Though his uncle was not completely convinced of his plans, the seeds had been planted, and he was sure Brandon would come around eventually.
That very night, Alys had tried to make a move on him. It was a good thing he did not think with his cock. He loved women, but he knew when to exercise restraint.
He would miss the North; he had helped it grow a lot over the last seven years. Now, he aimed to do the same for the South, though most of it would only come to fruition when he was king.
‘Would he be able to do it?’ The thought had not left his mind for a while now as doubts clouded his mind as he rode closer to White Harbor. Could he really achieve his ambitious goals? Everything had seemed simpler when he was in Winterfell, but now, each step towards his goal felt heavier, laden with the weight of uncertainty.
The South was a dangerous place, especially for him. He wished to leave with the group of men he had selected and had been training for years in Maekarton, his own Varangian guard. At the last minute, he decided not to take them but decided to slowly bring them to the capital when he was in a position of power.
The air had grown saltier as they neared the coast. The dense forests he was familiar with near Winterfell and Maekar's home had given way to rolling hills and open fields. The closer they got to White Harbor, the more signs of civilization appeared. Farms and small villages dotted the countryside, their inhabitants bustling about their daily lives.
Soon, White Harbor came into view, its whitewashed stone walls gleaming under the afternoon sun. The city's architecture was distinct, with steeply-pitched roofs of dark gray slate that contrasted sharply with the bright stone. As he rode through the city, he noticed how clean and well-ordered everything was, a testament to the Manderlys' efficient governance.
He headed towards New Castle, the seat of House Manderly. The pale castle stood proudly atop a hill, rising above White Harbor's white walls. The merman sigil of House Manderly flew from its towers. The castle itself was a formidable structure, a blend of elegance and strength, with its tall, pale stone towers and fortified walls.
As he approached the castle gates, he was greeted by Lord Wyman Manderly and his family. He liked Wyman; the large, imposing man always had a jovial demeanor, yet beneath the jests and carefree attitude was a cunning man. Those who knew of this side to the Merman Lord knew to fear and respect him. To the Lord of White Harbor's side were his two sons, Ser Wylis and Ser Wendel. His granddaughters, Wylla and Wynafryd, were also present.
"Prince Maekar," Lord Wyman called out warmly, his voice booming. "Welcome to White Harbor! It's an honor to have you here."
He dismounted and approached them, offering a respectful nod. "Lord Wyman, thank you for the grand welcome."
Wyman stepped forward and clasped his hand in a firm grip. "As you already know, my sons Wylis and Wendel, and my granddaughters Wylla and Wynafryd."
"It's good to see you again, my lords and ladies," Maekar said, acknowledging each of them with a nod.
"Come inside," Wyman urged. "We have much to discuss and celebrate. I understand you plan to sail soon."
"I will only stay for a few hours," Maekar replied. "Is the ship prepared?"
Wyman waved a hand dismissively. "The ship is prepared to sail, but you must stay the night. We have prepared a feast in your honor, and it would be a shame to let it go to waste."
He hesitated for a moment. "Very well, Lord Wyman. I will stay the night," he said with a smile.
“Good, now come. You must be tired from the journey,” Wyman said, leading him into the castle.
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After resting for some time, he was taken to the grand hall where the feast was being held in his honor. The hall was adorned with banners of House Manderly, and the long tables were laden with an impressive array of food. Roasted boar, venison, and fowl took center stage, surrounded by platters of fresh fish, steaming bowls of vegetables, and baskets of freshly baked bread. Trays of fruit were spread out, along with an abundance of pies and tarts for dessert.
He was seated next to Lord Wyman and his sons. The atmosphere was warm and festive, with music and laughter filling the hall.
"Prince Maekar," Wyman began, "do you know why the king has called you back? I expected you to stay in the North," he paused, "considering the circumstances of your arrival here," he added in a low tone.
Maekar shook his head. "I do not know why, but I am intrigued."
Wendel, Wyman's eldest son, chimed in. "Could it be because of Prince Aegon's… condition?"
Wyman shot his son a warning look. "Be careful of the words you use, Wendel."
He then turned back to Maekar, his expression earnest. "Know that you will always have the support of House Manderly, Prince Maekar. The Merman Court will stand by your side."
Maekar smiled, appreciating the sentiment. "Thank you, Lord Manderly."
As the feast went on, he found himself dancing with both Wylla and Wynafryd. They were graceful and charming, and he enjoyed their company.
Later, before retiring to his quarters, he had an interesting conversation with Lord Wyman, one that came about thanks to the letters from merchants he had received while he was in Maekarton.
"Have you heard of what has been happening in the Stepstones?" he asked. "I've heard that it's anarchy there."
Wyman nodded, his expression serious. "The pirates have been warring with each other since the Greyjoy rebellion ended."
"Why haven't the Free Cities come together to stop it?" he asked, curious.
"They're too busy fighting amongst themselves and even support some pirate lords there," Wyman answered. "It seems we may have to get involved at some point in the future."
‘Perhaps I can do something when I am in the capital,’ he thought.
The next day, he boarded the Blue Rose, a ship he had commissioned two years ago. There was a time he wished to travel to Essos and beyond, but the way things were moving, it seemed he would not be able to fulfill that dream anytime soon. The ship was the first of its kind, made to be the fastest ship to ever sail the sea. It was inspired by the clipper ships and Wyman was making more, though it took a while to make one worthy of sea travel.
As he stepped onto the deck, he couldn't help but hope that this journey would go better than the last one.
.
.
.
“Dragonstone is in sight, my prince,” a sailor said, standing at the door to his cabin.
“Thank you. You may leave,” he replied, dismissing the sailor.
He was days ahead of schedule because of his new ship. Since his uncle Viserys had been inviting him to Dragonstone for a while, he decided to stop by Dragonstone en route to King's Landing.
‘Though we would have stopped there anyway,’ he thought.
Uncle Viserys had also told him how his sister, his aunt, had wanted to see him. The image that came to his mind when he thought of Daenerys Targaryen was the Mother of Dragons, the Breaker of Chains, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea. He wondered what she was like here, having lived a peaceful life instead of being on the run in Essos as in the books.
His grandmother, too, had been living in Dragonstone until her death six years ago. He had only vague memories of Daenerys and Viserys as a child; he saw them more than he saw his own siblings. They had left the Red Keep before he left for the North.
As he made his way to the deck, he saw the castle of Dragonstone in all its glory. The fortress was made of black stone, its walls and towers adorned with sculptures of dragons that seemed to writhe and twist as if alive. The castle looked like something out of place in Westeros, a relic of old Valyria. The dragons carved into the stone seemed to peer down at him, their eyes following his every move, and the spires of the castle reached into the sky like the claws of some great beast.
As the Blue Rose approached the dock, he felt a strange connection to the island before him, as if the blood of old Valyria was coursing through his veins.
He stepped onto the docks, greeted by the sight of a middle-aged man flanked by guards in Targaryen regalia. The man, of Valyrian descent, was a bit overweight, his pale skin contrasting with his dark robes. His hair was a mix of silver and white, falling to his shoulders, and his eyes were a striking violet.
"My prince, I am Alain Celtigar, the castellan of Dragonstone," the man introduced himself with a bow. "Princess Daenerys awaits you in the castle."
"Well, let's not keep her waiting," he replied, gesturing for Alain to lead the way.
As they made their way up to the castle, he took in the surroundings. In his opinion, there were too many dragon statues; even the Starks were not obsessed with their symbol.
"Is this not your first time here, my prince?" Alain asked, noticing his interest in the surroundings.
"Yes, it is," he answered, glancing around. "Feels like home, like I am in Winterfell," he muttered.
"You have the blood of the dragon, my prince. Dragonstone welcomes you with open arms," Alain said with a wide smile.
As they reached the entrance, he saw a large group of people waiting for him. Leading them, standing in the center, was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She had violet eyes that sparkled like amethysts, pale skin that seemed almost luminous, and long, pale silver-gold hair that cascaded down her back. She was slender of frame with ample breasts, exuding an ethereal grace.
He saw her face burst into a radiant smile as she saw him. Flanking her were what he assumed were her handmaidens – two looked Valyrian, with similar pale features and silver hair, while the others appeared to be from the Riverlands or the Crownlands, their looks more diverse.
"Welcome, neph— I mean, Prince Maekar," Daenerys said, greeting him with a warm smile.
"It's an honor to be here, aun— I mean, Princess Daenerys," he replied, teasing her greeting.
She giggled. "I have longed to see you, Prince Maekar. It’s a shame my brother could not be here today."
"Yes, Uncle Viserys has been inviting me to Dragonstone for ages," he said.
She then introduced him to her handmaidens. The Valyrian-looking ones were Velaryon and Celtigar, and the other two were Drarry and Bracken.
“Come, nephew,” she said, leading him inside through the grand entrance.
The interior was as impressive as its exterior. The walls were made of black volcanic rock, seemingly melted together, giving the castle an almost organic appearance. Statues of dragons adorned the hallways. The furnishings were a mix of dark woods and rich fabrics, with tapestries depicting the history of House Targaryen.
"Deana will show you to your chambers," Daenerys said, motioning to one of the servants.
She looked like she wanted to say more but seemed a bit awkward. “I…umm…when you are properly rested, please join me in the gardens this evening. I wish… to get to know each other better.”
“I would like that very much, Princess,” he replied, much to her delight.
Deana led him down a series of winding corridors to a room that overlooked the sea. It was spacious, with large windows offering a stunning view of the sea. The bed was grand, draped in rich fabrics, and the room was furnished with dark wood furniture and red drapings.
“So, how long have you been working here, Deana?” he asked as the servants brought his baggage into the room.
“Since your grandfather became the Prince of Dragonstone, Your Grace,” she answered.
“That is a long time,” he said as he inspected the room.
"The Princess has been wanting to meet you for a long time,” she said, now more comfortable talking.
“Oh, has she?” he asked.
“She would often tell us of your time together in the Red Keep when you were children," she added with a fond smile.
He was confused. ‘What time together?’ he thought. He remembered being a very lonely child.
But he played along. "I have been wanting to meet her and my uncle as well."
"It is sad the Queen Mother couldn't be here. She always wished for you to be brought up here with the Prince and Princess," Deana said with a sad tone.
‘That's new,’ he thought.
As Deana bowed and left along with the other servants, leaving him alone with his thoughts, he wondered if his memories before he came to this world were warped. It seemed there was more to what he knew from six-year-old Maekar’s memories.
