Legacy of the Dragon Ch. 02

"We've been like brothers since we were boys," Lucas said. "Whenever my father took me somewhere on the mainland, we'd stop in Duskendale for a week, and Colton and I would wreak havoc. I had no siblings of my own, so my father wanted us to be like brothers."

"Brothers in all but blood," Colton said, grinning with Lucas. Then Colton looked past him. His grin slipped from his lips as his gaze lingered on Dany. His eyes widened. "Is this ... is she ..."

Lucas returned to Dany's side. "She is," he said. "Lord Colton, Ser Barristan, this is Princess Daenerys Targaryen. My wife."

"Seven hells," Colton cursed. "Is it really her?"

"It can be no other," Ser Barristan breathed, just as amazed by Dany as Lucas had been of him.

Dany suddenly felt shy. She came a little closer to Lucas's side, taking shelter by him.

Ser Barristan hurried over to Dany and dropped onto one knee. He bowed his head so low that he looked to the floor. "Your Grace," he said. "I've come to beg your forgiveness. I failed your family. I swore a vow to protect them, and I failed them. I would've died with Rhaegar at the Trident if I could've, but I lived when they cut me down, and ... when they offered to keep me a knight ... I accepted. I shouldn't have. The lords and ladies of King's Landing are nothing but snakes. Honor is dead in the Capital, and I fear that ... I've helped kill it." His words carried intense regret and deep-seated shame.

Dany felt confused as she looked down at the kneeling knight. She was still not sure what he was apologizing to her for. She had never been wronged by him. Or, at least, she'd never felt wronged by him. Ser Barristan spoke as if these were some great crimes he had committed against her, but to Dany that was impossible, because she had not even known the knight till he came to the manse.

"If you'll have me, I've come to swear my sword to you," the knight said, still kneeling, still looking to the floor.

Dany turned her head to Lucas beside her. "Can we trust him?" she asked.

Lucas met her eyes. "There's not a more trustworthy man in the Seven Kingdoms," he said. "And if he wanted us dead, we already would be." Lucas looked down to the knight again. "Ser Barristan, if you forsake the false king Joffrey, the Baratheons, and the Lannisters, then I will take you as our sword."

Ser Barristan turned his gaze upwards, to Lucas. "Forgive me, my lord, but I came to swear myself to the family I first swore to. I came to swear to Princess Daenerys."

A silence fell across the room. Behind Ser Barristan, Colton gave him a look of shock and disdain. Lucas's mouth twitched. He seemed to have no words. But Dany did.

"If you wish to swear yourself to me, Ser, then you must swear to my lord husband and I both," she told Ser Barristan sternly and sharply, speaking with a swell of strength and courage that she'd not been sure she possessed. "He is my family."

Lucas gaped at Dany at his side, taken aback by her boldness. Dany simply smiled at him.

Dany had spoken the truth. Lucas was her family. He was every bit her family that Viserys was, if not more so. Lucas was her husband. It was his arms that held her at night. It was his manhood that had made her a woman. And it was his son inside her womb.

Ser Barristan nodded. "As you wish, Your Grace," he said. He bowed his head again. "I forsake the false king Joffrey, the Baratheons, and the Lannisters, and I offer my sword to you both." The knight unsheathed his sword and held it up by the broad of the blade.

Dany was not sure what to do with it, but thankfully, Lucas was. He took the knight's sword by the grip and held it at his side. "Ser Barristan Selmy, do you swear by the Seven to always protect myself, Daenerys, and all our future children from danger?" he asked.

"I do," the knight said.

"Do you swear to always keep our secrets?"

"I do."

"Do you swear to always obey our commands?"

"I do."

Lucas lay the tip of the sword atop the knight's shoulder. "Then I name you, Ser Barristan Selmy, to be the lifelong Lord-Commander of our Kingsguard, where you will serve till your death."

"I will not fail you," Ser Barristan vowed fiercely.

Dany could tell how important that vow was to the old knight. It seemed as much a part of him as the blue of his eyes, as the blood in his veins. Dany had only known the man for a few minutes, but his convictions were compelling. She did not doubt that he would serve forever faithfully.

"Rise," Lucas said. Ser Barristan obeyed and rose to his feet. Lucas returned him his sword. The knight sheathed it in its scabbard and stepped a few paces back.

"I forsake them too, for what it's worth," Colton quipped, reminding everyone that he was still present in the parlor. "They're the reason I'm here." When Lucas gave him an inquisitive look, Colton continued. "I didn't exactly depart from Duskendale of my own choosing. I was forced out. My uncle ... well, I'll tell you about it after I've had a hot bath and gotten some food in me."

Lucas nodded to the sword at Colton's hip. "Have you come to swear your sword to me too, brother?"

Colton let out a short laugh at the suggestion. "As a brother-in-arms, sure. As Kingsguard, I think not. I intend to take back my lordship when I return. My little brother Renfred only keeps my seat warm for me. I'll not swear away my right to my city, nor my right to a wife and children." Colton glanced at Dany's swollen belly. "You might have the head start on me there, brother, but I had my eyes on quite a few ladies of the crownlands before all this happened."

They were very different men, Colton and Ser Barristan. Dany wondered how often the two had bristled and bickered in their journey to Volantis. She could imagine Colton frequently complaining about the emptiness of his stomach or the harshness of the sun, but she could not imagine Ser Barristan doing the same.

Then the question came to Dany's mind as to how the two men had even known she and Lucas were in Volantis.

"How did you two find us here?" Lucas asked, having Dany's exact same thought.

"Lord Varys sent us," Ser Barristan told him.

"Some of the Spider's little birds brought us together and sent us on our way here," Colton explained. "I've never trusted the eunuch, but he certainly seems interested in yours and Daenerys's survival. He would've sent much less friendly swords than us if he wasn't."

Dany did not know who this 'Varys' or this 'Spider' or these 'little birds' were, but Lucas seemed to. "I've known for some time that Lord Varys has been ensuring Daenerys's safety," he said. "But if he's now truly supporting our bid for the Iron Throne, then he's chosen wisely."

"So your eyes are on the Throne then?" Colton asked giddily, smirking. That smirk seemed to be the default expression for his face.

"Westeros is ours by rights," Lucas said calmly. "Viserys hasn't been heard from for months. In his absence, Daenerys is the heir, and I am her husband. That makes her the queen, and I the king. So ... I suppose we're not to be called 'my lady' and 'my lord' anymore."

"Quite right, Your Grace. And you're fast on the correct path, it seems," Colton noted. "You've the greatest knight in the realm sworn as the Lord-Commander of your Kingsguard. That's a damn good start."

Lucas turned to Dany and took hold of her hands. "You hear that, my love?" he said as he beamed a smile down at her. "Now we've three dragons and the greatest knight in the realm. We'll return to Westeros yet." He leaned over to kiss her. Dany welcomed his lips with her own.

But their kiss hid her true feelings. To Dany, Lucas's manse was home. Yet she knew Lucas would never feel the same. He hated Essos, and he despised Volantis. He spoke ill of it every day. Dany had been born on a fleeing ship and hadn't lived a day in Westeros, but Lucas had spent the first decade of his life there. He had grown being groomed to be Lord of Driftmark and to lead House Velaryon. He would not rest till he returned to Westeros, and his resolve was unshatterable. Dany wished it could be different, that Lucas could be content here. But she knew he couldn't be. And she would remain by his side wherever he went.

"'Dragons?'" Colton repeated. "What dragons?"

Lucas pulled away from Dany, their lips parting with an audible smack. He faced the two men with a smile. "I'll show you."

Hours later, the midday sun shined high and bright in the sky, steeping the manse's courtyard in its warm light. Dany reclined in a lounge chair in the courtyard's spacious, innermost square. As it allowed Dany to lay flat, the chair was wonderful for her back, which had been plagued with dull pains from the chore of carrying around her son in her belly.

Twenty yards in front of Dany, Lucas and Ser Barristan danced around as they swung at each other with blunted, black-iron swords. They were both shirtless, their hairy chests shining with sweat. Ser Barristan had bathed, and he had cut his hair short and shaved his face. The man looked much more like a knight now, albeit still a very old one. The clean pair of trousers he wore was Lucas's, a courtesy from him and his wardrobe.

Lucas and Ser Barristan pranced this way and that as they sparred, sometimes sidestepping, sometimes dodging back, and sometimes lunging forward as they lashed out with their pretend steel. Their shoes tapped away on the stone ground beneath them. At times they wielded their blunted swords at their hips like plows, and at other times they wielded them at their heads like the horn of an ox. Often their sword stances seemed outlandish to Dany, but she knew there must've been reason to them.

There was a crudeness to Lucas's movements, but Ser Barristan shifted like water. It was a wonder to Dany how a man so elderly could move so swiftly and smoothly. The contrast of skill between Lucas and Ser Barristan was staggering. They would pause and call out "Yours," whenever they suffered a blow from the other that they deemed would be 'disabling' were they striking with sharp steel. Ser Barristan did not suffer one such blow. It was only Lucas who had ever spoke.

As their dancing wore on, Lucas's frustration showed. His attacks became clumsier and less calculated. He began telegraphing how he would strike at the knight even more blatantly than he did before. Before long, his sword hand was being whapped by the knight's weapon only moments after each bout began. Dany knew he would be blue with bruises by the time they lay together that night. Some hits seemed more painful than others, by no fault of the knight, and Dany winced when she witnessed them.

But then finally, in one bout, Lucas managed to force Ser Barristan onto the retreat, laying unto him an exciting barrage of blows that the knight just barely managed to parry ... only for Lucas to then overcommit, and for Ser Barristan to whap Lucas's arm after sidestepping a thrust.

Lucas lowered his sword. His shoulders sank, and his head hung.

"You did well that time," Dany said, hoping to comfort him.

"Not well enough," Lucas muttered sourly.

Colton walked down the steps of a nearby stairway. He too was bathed, groomed, and wearing fresh clothes courtesy of Lucas and his wardrobe. His black hair was clean, its ringlets being smoother and holding a healthier shine. He still had his dark stubble, and his hair was cut only a few inches shorter than it was before. It still reached his shoulders. It was how he normally kept it, Dany presumed. It suited his long, thin face. Colton held in his hands a bowl of stew with a hunk of bread floating in it. "What have I missed? How raw has Barristan the Bold here beaten you?" he japed. "We should call him Barristan the Beater."

Dany did not enjoy the comments. Brotherly banter or not, it wasn't the time for his humor. In a flash of protective anger, Dany wished it was Colton that had been beaten and bruised instead of her husband.

"I'm Kingsguard, Your Grace. If you were better than I, there wouldn't be much need for me," Ser Barristan told Lucas kindly.

"I suppose." Lucas leered at the ground. His pride was hurt, and he could not hide it.

"You haven't had a partner to train at arms with for years," Colton said, now speaking sincerely. "It's natural to be a little out of form."

Ser Barristan came to Lucas and put a hand on his bare shoulder. "Her Grace is right, you did well," the knight assured him. "You're better with a blade than half the lordlings your age."

Lucas whipped his head towards the knight. "I am no lordling, Ser Barristan," he blazed, scowling. "And I need to be better than all of them. Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, said my father was one of the best swordsmen he'd ever seen fight. I have to be as good as my father was ... or I've failed him."

That was the first time Dany had seen her husband blaze like that. He had so often seemed like an old soul, wise beyond his years, but that moment reminded her that he was still young, not greatly older than her. There were still insecurities within him, few they may be.

Dany rose from her lounge chair. It took true effort, and she grunted as she finally came to stand. She cradled her heavy belly as she went to Lucas. "Be calm, my love," she said softly when she was by his side. She gently touched his other bare shoulder, opposite from the knight. "Everything will come in time."

Dany's words called to her mind thoughts of their dragons, of how soon they would hatch, and of their boy in her belly, and how soon he would arrive. They would come yet, in time.

Lucas turned his head towards Dany. He spent a long moment gazing into her eyes. Dany sensed that, as he searched himself, he found those same thoughts she just had, of their dragons and their boy. Lucas's scowl softened, and the burning ire in his blue eyes cooled. He looked to Ser Barristan again. "One hour, every day, you'll instruct me with steel," he commanded the knight. The stoic strength and calmness had returned to his voice. "Sparring, teaching, everything."

Ser Barristan took away his hand and nodded dutifully. "As you command, Your Grace."

"It'll take time to be as good as your father," Colton commented.

"Then it's good that we've plenty of it," Lucas said dryly.

Now the steward Tobas came down the steps. "I've spoken to a smith, Your Grace," he called out to Lucas. "He said he can have the suits made in three months, but you all must come to him and be measured first, and more throughout."

"'Suits?'" Dany repeated, knitting her eyebrows. She wasn't sure what the steward was speaking of.

"Armor," Lucas explained as he looked to her again. "Plate-and-mail. We've three swordsmen here now, and we need all be armored. And it'll save me the bruises from Ser Barristan the Beater here."

Just then, something clenched in Dany's gut and loins. She felt something give way, and then felt a wetness gather in her underskirt. She leaned over, clutched her belly, and cried out.

Everything was a blurred flurry of voices and movements then. Lucas barked orders at everyone and lifted Dany in his arms, putting one beneath her midback and another beneath her knees. Pangs of pain struck Dany's gut and tightened her muscles, each pang stronger and more agonizing than the last.

Lucas took Dany to their bedchamber. Clare was already there when they arrived. When the maid was told what was happening, she swiftly lay a clean sheet atop their bed. She and Lucas helped Dany out of her gown and undergarments and eased her down into their bed from the side, with her legs facing them. The others stood in the doorway, watching, but Lucas shouted them all away, giving them various commands. When Lucas shut the door behind them, only he, Clare, and Dany remained.

Lucas returned to the bedside and took hold of Dany's nearest hand. Things seemed a little less crazed then, if only barely. "She's delivered before," Lucas told Dany as Clare took her place between Dany's instinctively spreading legs.

"A hundred times," Clare added. The calmness in her voice was a great comfort to Dany, as was Lucas's hand holding hers. Lucas was still shirtless from sparring, his chest still gleaming with sweat. He had not bothered to clothe himself.

Dany winced sharply, scrunching up her face and jamming her eyes shut. Contractions worked through her like a rolling pin through dough, rhythmic and crushing. They came in swift succession, one right after the other. They hurt more than anything Dany had ever felt. It was all she could do not to scream.

"He's coming fast," Clare said. "You're ready to push."

"How do I?" Dany asked, her eyes still shut.

"When you feel a contraction, bear down, hard. Push him out. The act should come naturally."

When Dany felt the next contraction, she leaned forward and pushed as hard as she thought possible. She pursed her lips as spittle flung from her mouth. Though Dany had feared that pushing would hurt more than the contractions already did, the opposite was true. The pushing relieved the pain. When Dany had used all the energy in her muscles, she slackened and gasped for breath. Her back felt like it was on fire. She was pouring sweat.

"Gather your breath, Your Grace," Clare said. "When you can, start pushing again."

When Dany felt like she'd regained enough energy, she started anew.

"I see his head," Clare soon said. "Won't be long now. Keep pushing, Your Grace."

"Lucas," Dany called out as she squeezed his hand. She could not see him with her eyes jammed shut like they were, and she wanted to hear his voice.

"I'm here, my love," Lucas said. That voice ... low, smooth, and always steady ... Dany so greatly loved that voice. She loved it in that moment more than ever.

"Almost there," Clare said.

Dany pushed harder. Just when she felt like she was about to burst, a blissful relief washed through her burning body like ice water. Dany heard a baby's cry. She opened her eyes.

"He's a boy, sure enough," Clare confirmed with a grin. "He's not too big, but he's pink and plump. Strong cry. Gods be good, he's as healthy a babe I've ever seen. Easy birth too."

'Easy?' Dany thought with disbelief. Had the birth been easy? It certainly had not seemed so. Dany did not envy the mothers who went through 'difficult' births.

"He came with eyes open," Clare noted. She looked over at Lucas. "You came the same way. Eager to see the world at once." After wiping the squalling boy down with a washcloth and clamping and cutting the cord attached to his belly, Clare handed him to his father. Lucas cradled him in his arms. He laughed with a joyous mirth. His lips wore a wide, blissful smile, the widest Dany had ever seen of him. Wider than when he had learned he'd put their boy inside her.

"Do you've a name for him, Your Grace?" Clare asked.

"Jacaerys," Lucas said as he gazed at his son.

After a moment passed, Clare put a hand on Lucas's shoulder. "Hand him to his mother," she softly bid him.

Lucas nodded, as though remembering where he was. He came closer to Dany, leaned over their bed, and gave her their son. Dany held the boy in front of her. She found herself wordless. This little pink, squalling thing was ... her child. Her son. Her son. Dany had known for months she was to be a mother ... but now she truly was. Jace was of her own blood, of her own womb, and he looked it. He had a wisp of silver hair, and he squinted at her with little violet eyes.

There was a mist of emotions in Dany's hazy mind, but one emotion was profounder than all the others. It was love, an intense love. One that could never be suppressed. Dany smiled at Jace. Weakly at first. Then stronger.

"Put him to your breast, Your Grace," Clare said.