Chapter 29: Fire and Steel
109 AC, Driftmark
Laughter echoed around Laenor as his father made one joke or another, and his bannermen had likely drunk too much wine or mead. Say what you would about Corlys Velaryon, the man was charismatic whenever he wanted to and knew how to make a gathering interesting and joyful. After all, this was his official victory feast. His enemies were split, having turned against one another; the Stepstones were becoming safer by the day, and he was quickly setting up his trade routes, essentially saving what he had built in Spicetown.
Sure, no one actually knew that the collapse of the Triarchy had been done by Laenor’s hands or that Corlys was involved in any way, but in many ways, lords and knights had doubted the Sea Snake’s stance regarding the conflict in the Stepstones, and that he had left a job unfinished. It was a narrative that had been spun all over the Seven Kingdoms, likely hoping to push him to fight, and probably lose a lot of House Velaryon’s fleet, but given the brief length of the war and sudden end, he had shown that he never needed to involve himself in the first place.
It was a cause for celebration, and his father certainly loved doing so. At least, this time, he hadn’t declared another tourney on Driftmark. That alone was a nightmare to deal with, and that’s aside from competing. The novelty had been interesting for a short time, but he hardly saw the point of it, not anymore.
The table then erupted into more laughter as his father finished his story. He could see his father obviously not liking him not joining the celebration, given his piercing gaze, but he would deal with that later. Laenor was not exactly in a celebratory mood, not after what he had uncovered about himself.
The young Velaryon took a large gulp of wine, ignoring everything around him. He did not know why he had even come to the feast in the first place. Sure, he knew that he had been expected to attend, but he found himself lacking in the energy to care. Perhaps he thought that he needed to be around people, or maybe he hoped that family’s presence would calm him down. Or it could just be because of the wine.
After all, how would one deal with the fact that he had not always been himself?
He had been a man once, in a different life, in a different world, a world of steel and stone. He did not remember his name; certain details remained… clouded, despite what his painting had revealed to him. He simply called him the Scholar, for this was what he was.
Nameless, the scholar might be, Laenor could see his influence over his life, even if he had not noticed before. His knowledge regarding the sciences, the industries that he had set in place, his desire to bring about a fraction of the Scholar’s world into his own.
He could remember his many instincts that originated the Scholar, especially in his rejection of many things that he found unnatural, that often related to magic in some way, for the Scholar’s world was a magicless one.
It all made so much sense now, how unsettled he was at the sight of the dragons, how he felt regarding magic, and the seasons, which were obviously affected by magic as well. In many ways, Westeros was built on a foundation of magic, not one built on reason; hence his assertion from the day that he had been born, that the world was wrong.
If only that was all.
After all, Laenor did not know what occurred after Death, and thus, rebirth could have been possible. Perhaps everyone was simply reborn, and Laenor was the only one who had glimpses of the man he used to be. And he found that he did not mind the idea of having lived previously. He was still born Laenor Velaryon in this life, and nothing had truly changed. He had simply uncovered something that had always been there in the background.
And it was not like there were no benefits; the Scholar’s knowledge was extremely useful for his plans regarding Castle Driftmark. He would be surer regarding certain projects, especially the academies that he had planned on setting up in Hull, which he had been hesitant about officially implementing.
The goal was to change the apprenticeship model, which he thought was quite inefficient for many professions. He had been planning to create one for shipwrights, but he supposed he could do it for many other paths, and most importantly, his professions that he would need to fill in Castle Driftmark, and eventually maybe even include schooling for younger children, giving them better chances at growing. Given that the Scholar had seen such a framework yield great results, he was feeling much less hesitant regarding implementing this plan, and so much more.
However, what was truly hard to grasp was the fact that the Scholar knew of Westeros. He knew of the Seven Kingdoms, of Essos, and so much more, for they were within stories, stories that took place centuries in the future, one that he was not exactly fond of.
The memory alone made him grab his cup of wine and empty it completely, much to the shock of his father; he was not one to drink too much. Laenor tried not to look at the man as he got up and walked out of the Great Hall of High Tide. He walked around aimlessly in his father’s fortress, hoping that something would stop the pressure that he had felt.
The knowledge that his very being was all but words in a series of books would drive anyone to drink. He had tried not to think about this reality, this undeniable truth that he wished was false, and yet was not.
How else would he know that House Targaryens would be toppled in two hundred years, that the dragons would die out, and a Baratheon would sit upon the Iron Throne? The thought felt impossible to Laenor; House Targaryen was not at its strongest, not with its only Dragonriders being a banished prince and a young princess, but it was still mighty enough. There were also enough dragons on Dragonstone for future Targaryens to claim. The idea of the dragons dying out felt like an impossibility, though that was likely what the Valyrians thought before the Doom as well.
And such was another issue with the Scholar’s knowledge; what he knew of the Seven Kingdoms was dated to be almost three centuries after Aegon’s Conquest, or two hundred years to Laenor’s future.
It was a very long time, yet, in many ways, not a lot. The idea of so much occurring, of the dragons perishing, of Dorne joining the Seven Kingdoms, and of House Targaryen’s fall, was daunting, to say the least. It was also quite daunting how there was very little that the Scholar knew of House Velaryon, despite knowing of many other houses. It seemed that his house had fallen as well, something that Laenor could not let happen.
Not that this mattered in the long run; the Others would return, and with them, the dead would rise and likely kill everyone. The Scholar did not know how the tale ended, but that seemed the most probable result of the Long Night occurring while Westeros was fragmented after a civil war.
He wanted to drink another cup of wine at the reminder. He had known about the possibility of their existence given what he had seen in the cave on Dragonstone. He remembered the power within these cold eyes, who only existed in a single cave painting, yet held a terrifying presence indeed, but it was different for the threat to be confirmed, and for the knowledge that they were preparing for war.
“I thought I might find you here,” a familiar voice spoke up behind him.
Laenor blinked and realised that he had been standing in the balcony of his Workshop on High Tide. He looked around, smiling at the paintings around him. His art was entirely his own. His ability and desire to display the beauty of the world had been his own, and not the Scholar’s. Perhaps he had gone to this place knowing this, as he felt himself calm down the more he looked at them.
He turned to see the source of the voice, and saw his mother give him a soft but worried smile, “I’m sorry for leaving, Mother. I will apologise to Father later.”
“You are unwell,” Rhaenys Velaryon, the Queen who Never Was, stated with absolute certainty.
Despite himself, Laenor snorted at her tone, “People would normally ask if I’m well.”
His mother’s smile turned teasing, “A mother always knows, Laenor. Do not worry about your father; I will speak with him after the feast. However, I am more concerned for you. What troubles you so, my son?”
A part of Laenor wished to tell his mother about the Scholar… about everything, but found his words failing him. What was he supposed to say to her? That their lives were nought but words on a page, in a story that showed that the dragons were destined to die out, that House Targaryen would be usurped, and that the entire world would likely be swallowed by an undead army that most thought to be nothing more than stories meant to scare children.
His mother gently took his arm and looked up to the stars, something that he did as well. She spoke up softly, “You remind me of my father, you know. I think that no one but myself even remembers him now, who he was, the king that he could have been. He is only a story to most, a small sentence for the history books for Maesters to read about. He was very intelligent, but unlike my grandsire, he had a heart of gold. He had so many plans that he shared with me, so many reforms ready to change the Seven Kingdoms… until that stray arrow took him from the world. But I believe that had he survived, he would have accomplished wonders, just as I am sure that you will as well; that your accomplishments so far are but the beginning of your journey. Whatever troubles you, my son, I am certain that you will triumph, for I have faith in you, Laenor.”
His mother rarely, if ever, spoke of her father, of Aemon Targaryen, and despite the apprehension that he felt, Laenor listened raptly. Still, the small tale did give him some comfort, which was quite impressive given that his mother knew very little of what truly was occurring.
And so, Laenor found himself muttering whilst looking away, “There is just so much. I don’t know where to begin, or what to do.”
And wasn’t that an understatement. There was no doubt that Laenor was overwhelmed by what he had learned, especially given the stories regarding Westeros. He did not know what problem to deal with first, or if he should do them at all, or if they could, even if he wanted to.
He could ignore it all, the future from the Scholar’s stories. After all, he would be long dead before any of it would occur, including the Long Night. But then, what would be the point of what he had done so far? Why would he work so much for his plans for Driftmark, if Westeros would perish in the next few centuries? Besides, the risk of the Others attacking remained. There was no reason that they would not be active at this moment and decide to attack the Wall.
Rhaenys simply shook her head, “No one truly has all of the right answers to everything, Laenor, not even the wisest king in history. So first, let me ask you, is what unsettles you an urgent matter?”
Laenor shook his head, and she continued, “Then you need not press yourself, Laenor. Gather your thoughts calmly. And even then, choose a path, something to focus on that would help. After all, you do not need to address everything at once.”
The young Velaryon felt himself calm down at his mother’s words, something that she must have noticed him relaxing given that she had a soft smile on her face and kissed him on the cheek before turning and leaving, without saying a single word.
After all, she did not need to say anything more; she was right. He did have time, a lot of time. He knew that there was much that he needed to work through, and he would need to do it methodically instead of being constantly overwhelmed and pulled one way or another for a future that might never be.
And despite this knowledge, the stories could simply be that, only stories. They did not need to dictate his life in any way. And even then, he did not know how the Dragons died or what happened to House Velaryon. Truthfully, he did not care about House Targaryen enough to even bother about the rebellion of House Baratheon, especially since it was centuries in the future.
However, what he could do was start helping the Seven Kingdoms, preparing them for the coming Long Night. Laenor knew very little about the Others, even with the Scholar’s stories, only that they were creatures of ice and magic that could be killed with Valyrian Steel and Dragonglass, but very little else. He would need to work on that, and he knew that for it to begin, he would need to focus greatly on his studies regarding magic.
He would also need to focus on strengthening the Seven Kingdoms, at least their progress. Two centuries was a long time, enough that he would need to ensure the progress of its technology, and the Scholar’s knowledge would help immensely. He would also need to ensure that this progress would survive him, and he already had many other ideas in that front, ones that would see House Velaryon prosper as well.
And there was one path that he realised could help with both avenues, one that he had not truly considered, were it not for the memories of the Scholar that now ran through his head.
Wildfire.
The flames were obviously magical in nature, at least in the stories, and more importantly, the substance could easily become central to be adapted to many of the inventions in the Scholar’s words and substitute many resources. He had not truly thought about the substance overly much, but the scale of the impact that it could have for the world was immense, to say the least. He could already see its use in many applications, greatly accelerating technological advancement with its own nature alone, let alone what he could uncover after discovering its properties.
The young Velaryon felt a path ahead crystallise. It would be a great start, enough that he would also have time to come to terms with what he had experienced. But there was a small obstacle ahead of him. To get the secrets of Wildfire, he would need to go to its source, mainly the alchemists, and that meant that he would need to go to King’s Landing.
AN: This story is still relatively new, so if you'd like me to continue it, please let me know in the comments what you think of the rewrite so far.
This chapter in particular was a bit harder to write than usual, mostly with my decisions as to how much knowledge to let Laenor have. I sort of settled on him knowing about Game of Thrones, but not much about the past. I thought that it would be an interesting driving force to have him try to work to stop a threat that he would probably not live to see, and that would push him towards progressing Westeros's technology. He's still a dreamer, though, so he will be able to get some hints about his future. Still, I'm not entirely sure if this was the right call, so I'm asking your opinion here if you think I should change it, since this decision can drastically change the story moving forward.
As I said before, I am planning on uploading more of this story (outside of normal uploads). I have a bit of a backlog of chapter drafts for this story that I’ll try to go through when I can. As usual, I don’t mind rewriting this chapter depending on your feedback, so please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.