Chapter 13: Chapter 9

Chapter Text

It was over a month before we finally returned to King's Landing. I had finally come to an understanding with Lord Strong, and he'd agreed to not reveal what I'd told him, in exchange for some favor in the future. Fantastic. Because what I needed was to have a favor called in by the Master of Laws himself.

I'd secluded myself in the Godswood with Sister Beth and Maester Elwyn soon after we'd gotten back, bringing with me a piece of paper I'd written down years ago, during my earliest days in Westeros. I handed it to Elwyn, who read it over and nodded. Sister Beth read it over and chuckled. She was probably one of the best sources I had on things that the First Men used, as well things like Agriculture.

"Prince Lucerys," Elwyn said, "are you sure about trying this? King Viserys may not take well to you doing these things." I nodded. I knew that I had to try… even forceps may well not be enough. I didn't want Aemma to die, nor did I want her baby to die. If Baby Baelon survived, then there would be no Dance, no Civil War, and my father would have to find other methods to power.

Elwyn set to work shortly after with the information I gave him as a guide. Alesander helped him with as much as he could while I tried to focus on everything except my incompetent attempts at uplifting. I upped the draw weight on my bow, continued training with swords, flew long hours on Vermithor, wrote plans for possible political upheaval, hoped to prevent Ser Otto from turning the Hightowers into the Westerosi Fujiwara, and attended whatever social functions I was expected to.

The largest one was a massive tourney held to celebrate Aemma's pregnancy. As a joke, I decided to enter the archery competition. Maybe I could do something there. First shot, I got first place, bullseye very close to the center. Second shot, further back, I didn't do nearly as well, but others were worse, somehow. My luck got better the third pace, and the fourth I managed to keep it close. People kept missing as we got further and further away… did they really not know how to shoot a bow well?

I was finally eliminated in the seventh round, with four others still in the competition. Beginner's luck, had to have been. There was a dirth of good archers around for the tourney. I did get to watch the squire's melee. Watching all the kids beat each other up was an interesting pastime.

I recognized a few banners from around the Riverlands, and a few from the Vale, but none from the Stormlands. The Crownlands were all over it, though. Off to the side, I recognized a banner that seemed to be a stylized Royce symbol— probably some minor cadet branch. I resolved to check it out as soon as the mêlée here ended.

By the end, there were only some larger squires left, until only one was left, a particularly large boy wearing the emblem of House Strong. Afterward, he hopped off his horse, pulling off his helmet to reveal a baby-faced young man with a mop of brown hair and a bright smile. Many stood and clapped at his victory. I sighed and clapped along. He was a frat boy, and was definitely the father of Rhaenyra's eldest kids in canon. He was also like 8 years older than me, so that wasn't creepy at all.

He smiled and knelt before Viserys in the Royal Pavilion, who smiled and gave him some laurels. From not far away, Lord Strong gave a proud smile to his son. Harwin was probably going to be knighted in the morning. I gave a smile and nod to Lord Strong, before slipping out of the pavilion. Probably not the best thing to do without a Kingsguard present, but I'd slipped around the Great Council just fine, this would be far easier.

I approached the stylized Royce tent carefully, not wanting to be seen as any kind of threat; though, I was dressed in Targaryen colors, so it was rather obvious to anyone that I was from the royal family. I carefully approached, only for a large man to step out of it, wearing the ceremonial bronze armor of House Royce, sporting a simple goatee and short-cut hair. I gulped at seeing him as he looked down at me.

"Uncle Gunthor," I said, my voice so quiet I thought he hadn't heard me for a moment. But he nodded at me a moment later.

"Little Luke, I thought I'd find you here," he said. I flinched at hearing my old nickname, but suppressed it. I was getting better with it, at least. "You've sought me out, would you care to walk with me?" I hesitated for a moment, but I was a dragonrider now, and Vermithor was in the dragonpit if I got into serious trouble. I nodded. He directed me to walk with him, in the general direction of the tourney grounds.

"I'd hoped you'd be here," he said, after a few quiet moments. "I'd hoped to talk with your father and the King, about your mother." I blinked and looked up at him.

"She is well, is she not?" I asked. Gunthor shook his head.

"Rhea is well. This visit is not on her health," he said carefully. An unexpected voice sounded from behind me.

"Then what is it about, Ser Gunthor?" I turned and saw my father walking up behind us, eating an apple. Stay Classy, dad. Gunthor immediately backed up.

"Er, Your Grace, I was merely… I was thinking of a way to explain something to Luke," he stuttered out. Father chuckled and stepped closer, a cruel smile upon his face, and put a hand on Gunthor's shoulder.

"Then shall we talk, Ser Gunthor? You seem to have a tent nearby," he said. Gunthor gulped and nodded. I grinned as we turned back around, walking back to the tent. After pushing aside the large tent flaps, we all stepped inside. Gunthor poured some wine and offered bread and cheese. I sat next to Father and stared. Gunthor looked at me, then back to my father.

"Allowing a child here for these important proceedings may not be wise, Your Grace," he said. After a moment, he looked at me, then continued. "So, I know things like marriages and babes seem like a small deal, but there are small things that can affect big things, you understand me," I nodded. "Thus, I would request that you remain outside the tent for this." I shook my head.

"This is about Mother, I will stay," I said, glaring at Gunthor as best I could. The man looked away for a few moments, before finally nodding in agreement. After a deep breath, he began.

"There is… concern, about the dearth of Royal Princes, and what that means for succession, of all kinds." Gunthor watched Father's face carefully, but Father didn't seem to shift his gaze at all.

"Go on, Ser Gunthor," he finally said. Gunthor nodded rapidly as his face paled.

"If the Queen does not birth a son for His Grace, many fear that she will not bear another living child," he said. "Therefore, by the precedent of the Great Council of 101, you will almost certainly sit the throne after your brother, and Luke would follow you, likely with Princess Rhaenyra as his Queen."

"And?" Father said. Gunthor huffed.

"Where would that leave Runestone? Even now, there are whispers that it would be improper to have a Prince so close to the succession to be sworn to any but the King," he said. "Runestone would become property of the King, just as Dragonstone is… the Lords Paramount couldn't stand for it; your great-grandsire, and his grandsire before him, swore to them that their lands would not be intruded on." I blinked and thought about it. That… was an actually decent point. Runestone being attached to the Crown, or being part of the Crownlands would almost certainly scare the Lords Paramount. After all, cutting off lands from loyal lords and giving them to your own house would make them fear that Valyrian Dragonocracy was back.

"I know how that works, Ser Gunthor, I was Master of Laws, after all," Father said sitting up straighter. "I do, however, not see the problem. Runestone is sworn to the Eyrie, and unless Ser Otto has truly gone mad, that won't change. When Lucerys takes over Runestone, I believe he will be long married and likely have several children. Runestone can pass to a younger child." I blushed with that thought.

"There would already be a younger child if you didn't neglect your wife," Gunthor said, before his face went bright red in embarrassment. Before Father could respond, I broke out in laughter. Both Gunthor and Father looked at me oddly as I could my breath.

"Forgive me," I said, "but even if I had a brother or sister, that wouldn't change what is happening. Simply the details." Father, after a moment – and a pleading look from me – nodded in agreement, as his hand moved away from Dark Sister's hilt.

"The Lords would find something else to mutter about," he finally said. "Now, since you clearly brought their mutterings to King's Landing, you must have a solution to it that doesn't entail my son giving up his birthrights, from his mother or myself?" Gunthor hesitated. My face fell as I realized he didn't. Any solution of his would mean giving up any inheritance of my own from one side of my family or the other.

"And if I renounced my claim to Runestone, Aunt Ysilla would become Lady of Runestone after mother, and you being her husband, you'd claim Runestone for yourself," I said, my mouth twisting into a snear. "I wonder— is it the Lords of Westeros whispering, or just your allies who want you to claim Runestone for yourself?" Father put his hand on Dark Sister again. Gunthor let out a sad sigh.

"I will not deny that some that were more friendly with my dear departed father, " he almost spat, "were more forceful about it, yet I heard it discussed among the Stormlords and some of the Narrow Sea houses. Lord Boremund has but one child, and succession would pass to his sister in the event that his line fails; if things had gone the other way at the Great Council, it would have led to an even bigger mess there." Father stood up then.

"Yet there will be no dispute. Runestone will continue to serve the Eyrie, even when it's Lord sits upon the Iron Throne. There is nothing further to discuss. Lucerys, come," he said. I nodded and stood up. Gunthor said nothing as we left the tent. Father grabbed my arm as soon as we were out of sight and pulled me along, leaving me stumbling.

"You need a sworn shield, I cannot watch you as I did before I was Commander of the City Watch," he muttered. "And Gunthor will need to be closely watched. No matter my feelings on your mother, she is Lady of Runestone, and you her heir." I nodded rapidly. After the main portion of the tourney was over, I finally returned to the quiet of the Godswood, before walking behind the great oak and crouching down, lightly touching the blood-red leaves of the sapling there and making a quiet prayer of good fortune for the future.

A small event in the Sept of the Red Keep that evening saw Harwin Strong finally knighted. Yet, at the conclusion, Viserys looked dead at me and made a simple announcement.

"As my young nephew does not have a personal guard to watch over him, and he will likely not always be around the Kingsguard, I see none better than our young new Knight to watch over him. Ser Harwin Strong, would you accept this responsibility?" I looked quickly to Lord Lyonel, who gave me a stern look and a nod. Guess that's the favor… I thought.

"Yes, Your Grace," Ser Harwin called. "I will protect young Prince Lucerys with my life, and serve him to the best of my ability!" Well, shit, there goes the timeline.