Chapter 35: Taps and Rats
110 AC, King’s Landing
It was a few days after Laenor Velaryon secured his acquisition of the Alchemist’s Guild and ensured that it would relocate to Driftmark that he received invitations to dine with the royal family. He couldn’t help chuckle at that; most lords would dream of such an opportunity, and yet, here Laenor was, dreading it more than even his joust with Criston Cole, and he was quite sure that at the time, the man would have killed him if he could have.
Still, the move was going quite well, surprisingly so, if he were honest. Laenor had expected some kind of resistance at the prospect of relocation, but it seemed like the fact that someone was purposefully seeking out their order made the Alchemists extremely grateful. They seemed especially honoured when he worked with them on the design of their new Guildhall back on Driftmark.
The building would be quite far away from Castle Driftmark and High Tide, and he, himself, had designed a lot of security measures to avoid a potential fire spreading, especially one started by Wildfire, given his study regarding the substance. His father would likely need some persuasion, but Laenor could easily frame this as removing an asset from King’s Landing or strengthening Driftmark. Sure, the Sea Snake wouldn’t be entirely convinced, but Laenor paying for it and the fact that it would be secluded to not cause issues to the rest of the islands would likely stave off most of his concerns.
Still, it would all cost him a small fortune, but it seemed very little compared to securing the future of the Seven Kingdoms on his island, and it would be, given his findings regarding Wildfire alone. As for what comes next, he was planning on extending the surroundings of the Alchemists’ new Guildhall to include a Wildfire refinery of sorts, which would be stable enough to be shipped all over the island, and thus to the industrial parts of Castle Driftmark, but that was a few years away.
By this move alone, he had deprived the Crown of a very important future asset, while securing it to their own.
Laenor expected some pushback when what he was doing in Castle Driftmark inevitably leaked, likely claiming that he had ‘poached them’. Unfortunately for them, the King would not be able to recall them again, since it was by his word that they had been cast out, and even then, it would set a horrible precedent, which the Hightowers would never allow, since it could allow the King to remove the Citadel from the city.
It was a job well done, an achievement that would cement a great deal of Laenor’s plan, and something that was only possible thanks to Otto Hightower.
He would have thanked the man personally if he hadn’t threatened Laena.
Unfortunately for him, Laenor would only be satisfied with dismantling every shred of influence that the man held.
Laenor refused to have his sister marry someone like Daemon Targaryen, someone who was known to insult his wife, Rhea Rhoyce, at every opportunity he had, and worse than that, someone who was always one breath away from committing some kind of violent act.
No, if he had any say about it, Laena would marry someone that she wanted, someone who would treat her well, and would allow her to soar, just as she was meant to be.
Then again, he had taken matters into his own hands, set up a few… inconveniences that he was sure would keep Otto Hightower quite busy in the near future.
Oh, how he wished to see the man’s face when he realised what happened to him, what he had lost, but Laenor knew that he likely would not. He would have likely left the Capital by the time his gifts to Otto Hightower showed themselves, if only to avoid being caught in the coming storm that would likely engulf King’s Landing.
But for now, after so much politicking since coming to this damned city, Laenor was finally free to do something that he desired, a small reprieve, before the inevitable dinner with the royal family.
Laena had gone to buy a new gown for dinner. He didn’t understand why she didn’t wear one of the many… many… dresses that she already brought with her, but he had given up trying to understand the female mind long ago.
If he wasn’t mistaken, Laenor suspected that she’d likely also go take a look at the shops that they had bought. They would likely open anytime now. Laenor and Laena had left a few of Driftmark’s trusted merchants to be in charge of them, mostly as a reward, and to give the nobles of the Capital access to glass-based goods that they made in Driftmark. They’d focused on more refined forms of glassware, much like glass pens, far-eyes, and mirrors. He expected Laena’s folded hand mirrors to be especially popular with the noblewomen in the capital.
Either way, Laenor had sent Joffrey with her to keep her safe, while he came to the object of his interest, namely, the Red Keep’s Godswood.
He had never seen one before, as there wasn’t one on Driftmark, and he would admit that after finding it, it was much smaller than he expected it to be. However, that did not detract from its beauty, the calmness that its presence alone seemed to bring, especially the Heart Tree.
There was a certain presence about it, a somewhat familiar one, of power, of something… more.
Laenor smiled as he realised that his theory was correct. There was power there, in the tree, in its network, power that he could draw on.
He smirked slightly at the wordplay, took out a small piece of parchment and his silverpoint stylus, sat down, and began to draw it.
Laenor had spent much time theorising regarding the nature of his paintings and drawings, especially the incident in the Narrow Sea. He had come to the conclusion that he had channelled the power of something great, something divine, using a sacrifice of a sort.
He had no wish to replicate the feat, for it would need him to perform sacrifices. He could feel it, like an instinct of a sort, the value of a sacrifice, and he wanted very little to do with it, for this would turn him into a monster. But he remembered certain feats of power in the Scholar’s stories, ones attributed to the Old Gods, ones that were not as destructive nor as costly as what happened in the Narrow Sea.
And so, he put that in the test and drew. He felt almost drawn as his stylus moved across the surface of the parchment, being filled with a similar presence that few of his paintings once were, especially in the weeping, closed eyes carved into the Weirwood.
He continued, almost transfixed, until an unfamiliar voice broke him from his thought, “I must confess that it is a surprise to see you here, Ser Laenor.”
The young Velaryon stiffened slightly and stood up, turning towards its source. It was a man whom he did not recognise, but it was only that he began to walk towards him, limping, that Laenor knew who this was, “Larys Strong.”
The man chuckled at that, “I suppose that my reputation precedes me. Or perhaps, it is my feet that do.”
Laenor did not deny it, for it was true. He would not have recognised this man, were it not for his disability. He simply folded the piece of parchment that he was drawing on and put it in his pocket, and instead focused on the man.
He was surprised to feel a faint feeling of… something, when he looked the man in the eyes. It was hard to put it into words, but it was more akin to an instinctive distrust towards the man. He had trusted his instincts many times, and in a city like King’s Landing, not trusting anyone was a very wise precaution anyway.
Still, Laenor’s gaze sharpened, but he did not answer. And after a few seconds of silence, Larys Strong continued, “My brother spoke well of you after your joust, despite his defeat in Driftmark. It is not often that he is unhorsed, especially by a knight so young. He has dedicated much of his time to improving his jousting, with the hopes of facing you again in a tourney.”
“I am afraid that he will be disappointed, then,” Laenor answered, “After experiencing true combat, I felt disillusioned with tourneys.”
Honestly, Laenor wasn’t particularly fond of the sport, and this seemed like a good excuse to not joust anymore. To his surprise, Larys Strong’s eyes seemed to brighten at the mention of combat, “Ah, such dreadful creatures, pirates. Though perhaps you had come up more victorious than most. I know that most would relish the chance of ever owning a Valyrian Steel sword.”
“My father is quite happy with Riptide,” Laenor stated, mostly not knowing what this conversation was about.
“He’s quite a remarkable man, your father. I imagine that there is very little that would earn his approval, a royal marriage, perhaps.”
Yes, his instincts were accurate. He already barely said any word to the man, but he could see him probing, likely trying to find a weakness, a chink in the armour. Laenor pretended to stiffen, as he decided to let things go through their course, “You know about that?”
“As does most of the realm, I’m afraid. Though perhaps I am privy to more information than most, as my father sits on the Small Council. I must say that you have earned the enmity of half of the unmarried noblemen in the realm, with your display. Though, to your benefit, you are an exceedingly talented bard, and your acts of charity have made you the talk of the Court, if you haven’t been already. I have heard many who wish to approach you for a masterpiece much like the one you gifted the King for his son’s nameday.”
Despite the man likely only wanting to flatter him, he had to admit that he was quite proud of himself. Not of his performance, of course, but of the image that he had shown of himself during his stay. After all, they had called him the Painter Knight once, and he had tried to lean into it. After all, who would have suspected someone who liked to sing in ‘secret’ to be up to anything, but attempting to court the Realm’s Delight in a more romantic manner?
And so, Laenor smiled at Larys Strong’s answer, “I do try my best.”
“And you did not disappoint, Ser, for even my sisters are enamoured with you. I suppose that is why I sought you out.”
Ah, there it was. He wanted to show a more sympathetic approach, maybe trying to look for an ally. The young Velaryon answered the best way he knew, by pretending to make a mistake, “If it is a betrothal that you wish to discuss, then I will urge your father to send a letter to mine. I am sure that your sisters are lovely, but as you likely know, I have no say in the matter.”
At that, Larys Strong’s smile widened, “I believe that any of them would be overjoyed with such a match, but unfortunately, my father knows that the Sea Snake’s ambition would not be quenched with a connection to Harrenhal.”
“Oh, then why did you wish to speak with me?”
“To warn you,” the Strong scion answered immediately, “As I said earlier, you have earned the enmity of many men in the Capital, but none more than Ser Criston Cole. He has been quite… violent in the yard, since your arrival in the Capital, and I am afraid that he has not calmed down since. I hear that he and the princess are known to be quite… close, and he is quite protective of her.”
Laenor stayed silent at that, digesting this comment. Oh, he was sure that Ser Criston hated him with a passion. It had been a feeling that he had since the tourney in Driftmark, an instinct that he trusted, much like the dread he felt at the presence of Rhaenyra Targaryen.
But what was most interesting was Larys Strong himself. What he said might have sounded like a warning, but the man's purpose was to insinuate that Rhaenyra and Criston Cole were in some kind of improper relationship. Honestly, Laenor didn’t care, but he supposed that someone actually hoping to Court the princess, much like portrayed himself to be, would have been quite taken aback by this revelation, especially if he had any expectation that they would be wed.
So, this was an attempt at manipulation, but to what ends? Did Larys Strong work for Otto? His words seemed geared towards causing conflict between him and Rhaenyra, so that was possible, but that was hardly a confirmation of anything.
Hmm, to confirm it, Laenor decided to try to unsettle the board slightly, hoping to see how Larys would react, “I try not to put many thoughts into rumours, but in this case, their validity matters very little, at least to me; I’m afraid that our good Kingsguard will have very little to worry about. I have been… convinced that a match between myself and the princess would be unwise, at least for the near future.”
That was a secret, but not a very important one. Laenor’s marriage would undoubtedly be discussed during his dinner with the royal family, and the news would likely spread soon after. There was little harm in telling the man at this moment, not when he wanted to observe his reactions.
And they did not disappoint. Larys Strong’s eyes widened very slightly in surprise, before they sharpened into realisation. That wasn’t exactly helpful, but it showed that he connected the dots very quickly when he said this, before answering, “That’s certainly unexpected. I imagine the Sea Snake must have something grand planned for your match if he decided that another match would have been more preferable for his heir.”
The slight smugness in the man’s eyes was carefully hidden, but Laenor could recognise it. The man before him knew that he had been pressured by Otto Hightower; his words were meant to prod at Laenor’s pride by assuming that no one but his father could have gotten him to refuse a match with the Realm’s Delight, and certainly not the Hand, who was his father’s enemy.
Once more, this comment was meant to create even more tension, and it wasn’t something that a servant of Otto Hightower would say, risking Laenor doing something out of spite. However, it also showed that he likely knew of the meeting with the Hand of the King, though not its content, so the Strong scion had to be very well-informed in the comings and goings of the Red Keep.
Just who was Larys Strong? What were his aims or his motivation? What had he come to speak to Laenor for? It was obvious that he didn’t think much of him, likely very little more than his father, but what else was he capable of?
Before he could say anything, Larys Strong continued, “I suppose I can now reassure my sisters that you shall hopefully be safe and well. They were ever so worried about you. As for now, I wouldn’t want to hold you up too much with your coming dinner with the royal family. But do feel free to let me know if you need any help during your stay in King’s Landing. I would be of aid. Farewell, Ser Laenor, though I believe that we will see each other very soon.”
“Yes, I believe we will,” he answered, “Farewell, Larys Strong.”
As the man limped his way out of the Godswood, leaving Laenor with a great many questions that he wished to have answered.
Laenor looked at the Heart Tree and realised that he might as well try to find his answers while also testing his theory. And so, he took out his silverpoint drawing, feeling the presence within it, before using his silverpoint stylus to cut his hand, letting a small drop of blood fall on the drawn face of the Heart Tree, as he conveyed his intent, gaining answers to his many questions regarding Larys Strong.
He felt the presence within the parchment soar for a small moment before accepting his request. Without thinking, he turned the piece of parchment and began to draw, this time, letting his hand be almost guided by the presence without thinking through anything.
It did not take long to finish, for he knew when the presence in the parchment had disappeared, as if it had been spent, and he looked at the drawing that he had made.
It was that of a rat, but most importantly, it was one with three eyes on its head.
Laenor’s eyes widened in realisation as he remembered the lineage of the Strong family, and he muttered to himself, “Fuck.”
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 is a bit of a slow one, but I thought that it was needed after how eventful the last few chapters were. I liked the idea of Laenor experimenting with magic a bit and decided to also use it to introduce Larys Strong to the story. The dialogue was a bit tricky to write, especially Larys's, so please let me know if it feels off or something.
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.