Fcp7

Chapter 8Notes:(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter TextThe Golden Tooth - 43 AC

The roads my knight and I encountered over our trek east were of far less quality than I had predicted. To begin my expectations were low, it was a fully medieval world after all, but I could only discern what would at some point become the River Road by the flattened dirt of repeated use and the occasional traveler coming from the opposite direction.

My companion, who had introduced himself as Ser Tymond Tarbeck, had quickly grown used to my eccentricities by the time we reached the Golden Tooth. I was paying him exorbitantly and had even purchased each of us a horse, so he was content to tune me out and chime in with the occasional grunt.

The sigil of House Lefford, a pile of gold on a blue field with a sun on the left side, came into view as we rounded the bend. The fortress known as the Golden Tooth was massive, far larger than Faircastle or the assorted keeps we had passed on our trip. It was comparable in size to Casterly Rock itself, which was a massive feat.

"Ser Tymond?" I inquired.

He grunted out his reply. "What?"

"What say you of this place? Is it comparable to Tarbeck Hall?"

The reply was stilted and curt. "It's been a while since I've set my eyes on my home, boy. This seems bigger."

"Thank you."

A large valley stretched out on either side of the River Road, stretching out into farmland and small hamlets for a good distance. If I had to guess, House Lefford likely drew much of their levies from the farmers who worked there, and much of the food for their armies as well. I supposed it wouldn't rely on farms from the other side of their fortress, down in the Riverlands. Really, this was their only option.

Approaching the main gate, I lowered my voice and spoke quickly to Ser Tymond. "Remember, ser. I am your squire, a member of House Farman you picked up while guarding some of my family's fleet. You're headed to Pinkmaiden, to join up with King Aegon and help his claim."

"Aye, I know. You've only drilled it into my head two dozen times."

"This needs to go perfectly, and it's what I'm paying you for. I'll repeat it again if I must. "

"Of course you will." His voice came out in a combination of a growl and a rasp.

I rolled my eyes. "Where are we headed?"

"Pinkmaiden. I'm supporting King Aegon. Now shut it."

The gate was open, with a pair of guards in Lefford colors standing at attention. They wore the heavy plate that was common for Westerlander men-at-arms and wielded long deadly-looking halberds. I didn't fancy getting into a scrape with them if I could avoid it.

In addition to the two soldiers on the ground, I could see at least twenty visible men patrolling the towers and battlements of the keep. But the structure was looming and huge, and I highly doubted just twenty men were its defenders. It was the border castle between the West and the Riverlands, for Pete's sake. I'd be surprised if there were less than five hundred men-at-arms within the castle.

"Hail!" called one of the guards, and we quickly had all attention focused on us. There were no hostile movements from the men of House Lefford, but all signs of drowsiness were quickly wiped from their faces. Some of the men on the walls congregated a bit closer over the gate, and I saw some of them checking their weapons.

These people were on edge.

"Hail!" Ser Tymond called back. "And good morrow to you!"

I nodded my head enthusiastically and did my best to look as naive and innocent as possible.

We rode up next to them, our horses pulling to a stop upon our arrival. Ser Tymond looked down at the guards and spoke. "I am Ser Tymond of House Tarbeck, and my squire here is called Androw. We seek to pass through to the Riverlands.

The guard on the left, the taller one with a beard, looked us up and down apprehensively. "And what be ye doing with all those weapons and armor?"

"I'm a knight," said Ser Tymond. "Weapons, armor, and horses are the tools of my trade."

"Yes, yes." the other man waved his hand in a dismissive motion. "Why do you leave the Westerlands? There is no shortage of knights."

"I wish to offer my services in Pinkmaiden."

"For Prince Aegon?"

"For King Aegon." Tymond corrected.

The two soldiers exchanged looks, and then at the Golden Tooth behind them. "Perhaps Lord Lefford should be consulted on the matter."

Tymond sent a glance toward me, panicked. Subtly, I pinched my index and thumb together and rubbed.

Luckily, he understood my meaning. "That won't be necessary, my friends. You see, I travel with haste. If your lord were to get involved, it would both disturb him and slow me down. I'm sure we can find some way to speed up the process."

I lifted a pouch full of coins and jingled it meaningfully. I swear you could've seen the men's eyes light up.

Pinkmaiden - 43 AC

I don't think that Pinkmaiden had ever been this bustling.

The seat of House Piper was a modest keep, with only one ring of out walls and four towers dotting the interior. It was extensively refurbished with treated wood and stone of lesser quality, and the surrounding countryside was not exactly rich.

Despite that, a makeshift city had sprouted up all around it.

I'd seen this kind of thing when I'd watched Game of Thrones, during the War of the Five Kings era with Robb Stark and Tywin Lannister's war camps. They had been sprawling, moving settlements of their own, complete with economies, upkeep, and growing populations.

Aegon the Uncrowned's temporary home was an excellent display of that idea.

Houses from all across Westeros had congregated here in opposition to Maegor the Cruel. House Connington of the Stormlands, House Dustin of the North, and House Corbray of the Vale were just single examples from their respective regions, and other families from across the Riverlands and the Westerlands had come out in force under Aegon's banner.

Under Tymond's estimation, there were at least 15,000 assorted soldiers around the castle, about the current population of Whiteharbour. That was a huge amount of people, and you could tell.

The sound, stench, and size of a war camp of that size had been generally ignored in Game of Thrones because let me tell you, it was nearly impossible not to notice. A bustling economy of vendors, camp followers, and soldiers made for a unique situation, and tent neighborhoods had already been set up.

I had the luck to catch a glimpse of Quicksilver circling the camp on our arrival, his coat a wave of gleaming chrome that reflected light to an intense degree. Prince Aegon was likely impressing the lord sworn to him or something along those lines.

I wasn't sure how I felt about the prince. Sure, he was tall, and handsome, and had plenty of charisma, but who could know whether or not he should be king? He could be another Aegon the Conqueror and lead the Targaryens down a better path, or he could be Aerys II two hundred years early. He was only about seventeen or eighteen, and there was no way I could tell his life trajectory by this point.

That wasn't even mentioning that the current year, 43 AC, was only about ten years before Jahaerys was supposed to become king. Jahaerys was like the best king, indisputably, and Queen Alysanne was on par with him if not better. If my actions butterfly-affected their way into putting Aegon on the throne, would I be depriving the world of the best power couple the Targaryens had ever seen?

Well, whoever was crowned, they'd be a better king than Maegor.

But that whole thought process could wait. I wasn't there to crown a king or anything of the like, I was there to save my grandfather, Uncle Flement, and reluctantly, Franklyn. House Farman needed to survive this war, and it was up to me to save them.

Me. An eleven-year-old with a pouch of money, a sellsword, and a dream.

What was I even doing? Did I think I was going to ride into camp, declaring that Aegon should turn back, and not face Maegor at all? Would I tell him to bring Rhaena and Dreamfyre with him, or that I had predicted the battle that was to come and I wished to avert it?

No one in their right mind would believe a single thing I said.

No, this had to be something I did on my own. I couldn't control Prince Aegon, my grandfather, or the general events around this situation. I couldn't come up with insane battle tactics that let Aegon's forces beat Maegor's, nor could I cause Quicksilver to suddenly be stronger than Balerion.

Aegon and his allies couldn't beat Maegor in a straight fight.

Fuck.

I had to kill King Maegor.

Harrenhal - 43 AC

He was finished with her for the night.

Maegor Targaryen had stormed into Tyanna's chambers some hours ago, mind far away and looking for release. As always, she'd been willing to indulge, but her mind had been elsewhere. Things in Westeros were changing, and no one around her was aware of it.

Tyanna of the Tower, for the first time in many years, was intrigued .

Her entire life she'd been searching for a purpose. Tyanna had seen what was coming, and she had seen what the world was doing to stop it. She'd seen all of it, the good and the bad, and she'd been disappointed.

Is this what humanity does in the face of the night? Do they pretend it doesn't exist?

Tyanna had realized the world round was ignorant save herself.

She had thought her marriage with Maegor would have changed things. When Alys had brought her to Westeros, she'd dared to hope. How foolish she had been.

Sure, they would never be a love match, nor would any children be birthed from his seed, but at least she'd have power . She could change things. Tyanna had saved his life, brought him back. She had given him a spark from her fire, a drop from her ocean. Maegor owed her due.

Yet, nothing. All the advice she gave, all the information she shared, Maegor cared not. He could single-handedly end the threat in its womb, and he did nothing. All he cared for was her body and the secrets she held about his enemies.

He was worthless.

Thus, Tyanna had returned to her boredom. She'd returned to the monotony of knowledge, the curse that despite everything she knew, nothing would change. The brute continued on his course, ignoring her at every turn and blundering his way into his own demise. Pathetic.

But then she'd seen something new. A glimpse, a change, a new course the world was taking. It had actually been changing slowly for the past decade, she'd simply missed it. The changes had been insignificant up until that point, and thus beneath her notice.

But Androw Farman was proving to be a very interesting person.

His actions were strange - erratic, even. Not the foolish and directionless actions of so many on this horrid planet, but erratic in that he moved with knowledge he shouldn't have. He acted on things before they happened, and he changed them. Not in a major way, not yet, but he changed them still.

Maegor lashed out in his sleep, catching her arm and gripping it tightly. The pain wasn't anything new, and Tyanna weathered it as she always did. Even in sleep, the king's face was etched into a cruel smile, and she felt him harden against her.

She watched the blood trickle down her arm with minor interest. Maegor's death had been clear to her for ages, but the image she held now was shaky. There was a chance, however small, that what she had predicted would not come to pass.

As Maegor dug his nails further into her arm, Tyanna of the Tower smiled.

For the first time in years, she was excited.

Fair Isle - 43 AC

Elissa had no idea where her brother was, and she wasn't sure she wanted to.

All right, that might have been a bit of an exaggeration. Her baby brother might have been way too smart for his age and a bit of a recluse, but she cared for him all the same. He'd been with her for as she could properly remember, and had always encouraged her adventures. Androw had supported her when no one else had and made her feel like she wasn't so much of a mistake that the septa said people like her were.

Androw cared about her.

But if that was the case, then why did he vanish without a word?

At first, her grandfather had said that Androw was likely just off sulking at his family leaving, and Uncle Flement had agreed with him. Franklyn had made some cruel joke about Androw going off to cry.

They'd left before she could prove them wrong.

Oh yes, she understood. The King of the Seven Kingdoms was bereft of his throne and as good, honest servants of the crown it was the family's duty to help him. King Aegon and his gorgeous Queen needed aid, and House Farman had answered.

Elissa was deeply jealous of Aegon.

But that didn't detract from the point that Androw was missing.

She knew more than anyone that Androw was smarter than most, not all other children his age. He knew things far before anyone else and learned complex lessons so quickly that it left her scrambling to even attempt to keep up. Franklyn had an inkling of what she knew, but he'd only seen the negatives of a smarter sibling, rather than any of the positives.

Androw was gone, and obviously for a reason.

Elissa nodded to her friend Genelle Tanner, the younger sister of the current knight of Redtower. Genelle was a skinny girl, about three or four namedays older than Elissa and already married. Despite being her bannerman's daughter and married to another, Genelle had power where Elissa didn't. Her husband Hugh was weak-willed and already wrapped around the red-haired lady's finger. Genelle had all the power in their marriage.

Elissa was envious. But that didn't matter now.

Genelle owned a ship and commanded men of her own. And Elissa was calling in a favor.

One way or another, she'd find her brother. And she'd bring him home.

Notes:So, yeah.

I mentioned Harrenhal regarding Tyanna's location, and no, that was not an accident. Tyanna might not care about the current goings-on of her life, but we can infer and we can guess.

Genelle and House Tanner are entirely made-up and are landed knights to House Farman. I thought it was weird that House Farman, despite being a major vassal of House Lannister, only had one vassal (House Clifton). Seeing as this is a House Farman-centric story, I've added some more. Hope y'all don't find them too distracting.

Good night tri-state area!