48

Chapter 48: Omake 5: IdentityNotes:

My boyfriend is back!

And he's sleeping off whatever he did during his isolation. Fifteen hours and counting as of this writing. He's out cold.

In the meantime, have this Omake.

—Alice

Chapter Text

"Be yourself."

-Ser Bell the Beast, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard for King Rhaenyra I Targaryen

98 AC, Runestone

Alla the Short was five foot nine, and considered half a dwarf by her family.

Her father Rodde was six foot six. Her oldest brother Whist was six foot four. Her younger brother Walder was six foot eight. All three were big strong men, whom served as guardsmen in Runestone, personal bodyguards of Lord Yobert Royce. As a reward for their long service, Lord Royce had knighted all three men, and named their sister Alla as handmaiden of his daughter and heiress, Lady Rhea Royce. A great reward for a commoner family.

As a handmaiden, Alla's marriage prospects were far better than most commoners. She could catch the eye of a noble or landed knight, and her children could one day be nobility in their own right. And indeed, comely Alla outdid herself, catching the eye of a prince. The charming and devilishly handsome Prince Daemon.

Unfortunately, Prince Daemon was married to Rhea Royce, so their affair went nowhere. Eventually, Alla got pregnant, which led to Rhea finding out about their affair and dismissing Alla from her service.

Bell Stone was born half a year later as a hale and healthy baby. Twice the size of her mother Alla as an infant.

———

104 AC, Runestone

Bell was heavyset and stout, with a big nose, thick neck and broad shoulders. Her hair was a mop of ratty brown hair, which she kept just above her square jaw. Her eyes were the only feature of hers that could be considered even remotely girly. Lilac, wide with innocence and gentle eyelashes.

Her mother and uncles had wanted her to grow up and become a handmaiden like her mother, but Bell wasn't having any of it. She ripped dolls apart. Fought tooth-and-nail when they tried to dress her up, and cut her hair with a cleaver when they tried to make it grow long. Once, her family had stolen all of her pants and tunics, leaving behind only skirts, but Bell spent the day naked instead.

With none of her parents' beauty, her size and her bastardy, the other children mocked her relentlessly. They thought it a jape, that the biggest and strongest kid their age was a girl. Bell the Beast, they called her. Bell the Giant. Bell the Aurochs. Children threw stones at her when she approached, ganging up on her whenever they played swordfighting with sticks. And whenever they pretended to be knights riding to save the maiden in distress, Bell was always made to act as the evil monster they had to slay.

After the third time Bell came home bruised black and blue, her grandfather pulled her aside and told her that if she insisted on fighting, then he were going to teach her how to do it proper.

To his delight, Bell took to fighting like a fish to water. While she was too heavyset and ungainly for the precise moves of a sword, she had the brute strength required to heft a heavy woodchopping axe even at age four.

The next time the boys ganged up on her, she showed them who was boss. A single punch of hers broke Pate's jaw and knocked half the teeth out of another's mouth. She shrugged off the blows from their sticks and fists, using her bulk to her advantage. And once she closed the distance, there was nothing the boys could do. That day, nearly a dozen boys had to limp to the bonesetter, while Bell went home with only minor bruises.

The very next day, the older brothers of the boys she beat up got involved, moving to take revenge for their siblings. Undaunted, Bell hefted the largest tree branch she found and waded into battle. The resultant brawl led to Bell breaking three bones, but the six older boys were worse off. While her family complained about the costs of the town healer, Bell could tell they were proud of her.

That was the last time they ever tried to make her wear a dress. From then on, her entire family treated her like she was a boy instead of a girl, and life was so much better.

As time passed, Bell continued to learn how to fight. Only growing bigger and stronger as time passed. By age six, she could heft the heavy axe with a single hand. It was around this time that the master-of-arms at Runestone, Ser Wingood, grew interested in her strength, and offered to give her a knight's training on the side. Bell later learnt that he was courting her mother, and the lessons were his way of ingratiating himself with both his goodfather and goodbrothers-to-be as well as his future stepdaughter.

A few times, the man had even allowed Bell to dress as a boy and participate as his page or squire. And when he eventually married Bell's mother, he swore a vow, man-to-man, with Bell —Never mind that she was a girl. If he ever mistreated Bell's mother, Bell was to personally beat the shit out of him and set him straight.

Bell loved her stepfather. Great man. Treated her like his own. He beat the shit out of her countless times on the training yard, but at the end of the session, would help her to her feet.

———

One day, her stepfather came back home from the castle. Prince Daemon was dead, he told the family. The royal family was adopting all of the Rogue Prince's bastards, including Bell. They also offered Bell's mother a job as caretaker for her many siblings. Debate raged through the family in regards to the news, and it was eventually agreed that her parents would take Bell down to King's Landing. Her stepfather would become a guardsman for House Targaryen and Mother would join as caretaker.

A fortnight later, Bell's family was summoned before Lady Rhea Royce herself. Her father's widow offering the five Dragonseeds a farewell dinner with her. They made Bell bathe, and wear a dress for the first time in years. Despite being made of fine linen, far better than her usual roughspun pants and tunic, Bell couldn't help but feel uncomfortable in it. She looked like someone had shoved a cow into a skirt. It was too breezy around her legs. It squeezed her shoulders and waist wrong, and she wasn't pretty in it. And when Bell entered the room, she couldn't help but feel a pang of envy.

Strat was comely, with silver hair and eyes like amethysts in a fair face. Raybar's gold-silver hair crowned a handsome face set with grey Royce eyes. Her old bully Pate —To think that that son of a whore was her brother— had hair the colour of beaten gold, with sharp eyes of pale violet. And Daisy was downright beautiful, with eyes so pale they were nearly pink, and hair so silver it was nearly white. While Bell was just Bell. The homeliest of the five. Pate had outright laughed himself silly at the sight of her in a dress. She nearly broke his jaw a second time for that.

It was then and there that Bell realised just how in over her depth she was. Bell couldn't even read, and barely knew how to use cutlery, yet she was now being told be elegant, graceful and charming as a Dragonseed. Her hands were calloused, and she wasn't comfortable in skirts. She spoke like a commoner, and was ungainly and brutish. She wasn't prepared to be a princess in all but name. She was the monster the knights fought to get to the princess, not the princess.

But she couldn't even flee. Not when the royals themselves were interested in her.

During the ship journey to King's Landing, Mother tried to teach Bell etiquette, and Bell desperately tried to learn, but nothing stuck. She couldn't tell apart the desert fork from the first course fork. Her one attempt at makeup made her look more like a beast than a maiden. She frequently tore her dresses, unaccustomed to the dainty movements they required. The only thing she achieved on that journey was looking like a particularly ugly fool, Pate laughing non-stop at her.

She barely resisted caving his face in. Highborn maidens didn't hit people. No matter how tempting or well deserved the beating would be.

Her stomach churned with dread as the boat reached King's Landing, and she trembled as they were escorted into the throne room of the Red Keep. And just when she thought she couldn't be any more miserable, she caught sight of Princess Rhaenyra and her gut fell.

How could anyone be that beautiful?

Her gold-silver hair tumbled down in a cascade, framing her beautiful face. Her eyes were indigo and her lips full. She was taller than even Bell, but her height was paired with her slender frame, making her look dainty instead of brutish. The dress she wore was pure white, with long billowy sleeves like wings. If someone had told Bell that the girl before her was an angel, Bell would have believed it.

How could Bell ever compare to such radiance?

Bell went through the warm greetings like a statue of solemness, depressed at her appearance. A feeling that was reinforced when she met the rest of her siblings. All were comely and adorable. Swans one and all, while she was but an ugly duckling.

She didn't know when she left the Whorepit, but she found her way to a quiet corner, and pulled out her blunted axe and began practicing, allowing routine to dull her misery. She'd just gotten into a much better mood when she realised that she had an audience.

"Your grace!" Bell started, desperately hiding her axe behind her back. "Uh, I was, uhhh..."

She trailed off, trying and failing to find a reasonable excuse for why a girl was swinging about an axe.

"You're good." Princess Rhaenyra smiled. The older girl drew a training sword. "Mind if we spar?"

Bell blinked, taking in the Princess for the first time. She had discarded her dress for a suit of black armour, with a golden cloak. Her hair was tied in in a practical bun and she held a helmet under her arm. And yet she still looked every inch the delicate maiden she was.

"You don't want to do that, your grace." Bell said. "I don't want to hurt you."

The princess let out a laugh. Gods, even her voice was sweet.

"Do your worst." The older girl challenged, baring her teeth in a savage grin.

Ten minutes later, and Bell was panting, leaning on her axe for support. Princess Rhaenyra had trounced her with contemptuous ease. It wasn't that she was stronger than Bell. Bell was pretty sure she was both faster on the swing and packed more strength into her blows, but the Princess had timing. She sidestepped and dodged with minimal movement, simply being not where Bell's strikes were, while her blade stuck the Stone in soft places from unexpected directions.

"You..." Bell panted. "Aren't some pampered princess."

"We all have our surprises, cousin." The Princess smiled, not even out of breath. "The Kingsguard train me to fight, and I hope to be as deadly a warrior as Queen Visenya herself one day.

"And you can be one as well." She said, walking up to Bell. "You're an impressively skilled warrior. Moreso than anyone else our age."

"But... aren't I a Dragonseed?" Bell asked. "I thought I was supposed to be like Daena. Your dainty handmaiden, waiting on you. Girls don't become warriors."

"Fuck that." The Princess shrugged. Bell did a double-take at that; She didn't know princesses could swear. "I believe that you can be anything you want, no matter what everyone else says. If you want to be a knight, then you can be a knight. If you want to be a maester, then you can be a maester. Life has many possibilities."

"Really?" Bell asked, looking up at the older girl. "Anything?"

"Yes. I intend to build a world where boys and girls can grow up into anything they want to be. Where jobs are not barred from us because we don't have a cock. And that includes you, Bell Stone." Princess Rhaenyra declared. "Be whom you are, not whom others want you to be."

Bell frowned at that, considering all her wants and desires. She wasn't a princess or lady. She was a fighter and brawler. She didn't want children or a husband. She wanted battle and glory. She didn't want dresses and makeup. She wanted pants and armour. She didn't want a stable life and a comfortable castle. She wanted excitement and adventure.

"I want to be a knight." Bell declared. "A big and strong one. Like the knight in the painting in the Whorepit's living room. One whom will protect the weak maidens and slay the wicked."

Bell liked that painting. A big and strong man, almost seven feet tall and even more muscular than she was. His helmet a snarling dragon, and clad in a suit of thick and ornate plate, engraved with countless dragons with gemstones for eyes. His cloak was thick crimson wool. His weapons were equally impressive. He held a bastard sword of Valyrians steel with one hand, his size making the large blade look like a mere arming sword. He held a tower shield that was a solid hunk of black steel in the other, painted with the three-headed-dragon of House Targaryen. The Warrior himself couldn't have been more impressive.

And privately, Bell was pleased that the knight looked like her, sharing the same jawline, eyes and thick features.

But for some reason, the Princess was restraining laughs at Bell's words.

"Pardon me." She finally said, wiping a tear from her eye. "Your dream is admirable, and I will do anything in my power to support it, but the man in the painting is Maegor the Cruel."

Bell blanched.

"I don't think you should become like him." The Princess delicately said.

"Yes your grace." Bell embarrassedly sighed.

"And please, call me Rhae." The older girl said. "Or Nyra. Whichever you prefer. 'Your grace' is just too stuffy for family."

"As you wish, Nyra." Bell smiled.

———

105 AC, Castle Sept, Red Keep

"Bell Stone. I baptise you in the name of the Seven-who-are-One." Septon Eustace prayed, dunking Bell's head into the basin of holy water. For seven seconds, her head stayed under, before he pulled her up, gasping for air.

"Father, Mother, Warrior, Smith, Maiden, Crone, Stranger." Septon Eustace recited, the entire audience repeating his words. "Thank you for the precious gift of baptism, that we can publicly declare our love and passion for the Seven-who-are-One. Seven Gods, we ask for your goodness and blessings to be poured our on this faithful servant. We pray you would work deeply within their heart and soul to renew and refresh them each day. Come guide their footsteps, give them a hope and a vision for the future."

"By my paternal name, I am called Bell Stone." Bell's declared before gods and men. "But by my spiritual name which I received in baptism, I am now Bell Fyre."

"Today, the past is gone. They stand free and whole, loved and forgiven within the Light of the Seven. Seven Gods, cover and protect them now, encircle them with your promises and fill their hearts with joy. May this day be one they cherish and remember forever." Septon Eustace finished, the entire audience bowing in prayer.

As soon as the minute of silent prayer finished, Bell returned to the pews, and Strat strode up to take her place at the baptismal font.

"Not changing your name?" Daena asked.

"You didn't change yours either." Bell pointed out.

"Mine was already Valyrian. Named after our father." Daena shrugged. "But what about you? Bell is one of the most common names out there."

"That is fine." Bell gravelled. "I am me. I am and will always be Bell. I am comfortable with who I am. I know exactly who and what I want to be. And nothing and nobody, not even the gods themselves, can ever change that."

And wasn't that the truth of it, in the end. Bell was Bell. So what if the entire world laughed at who she was and who she would be? Bell didn't care what any of them thought. Not anymore.