Game of Thrones: StormBorn

289AC

It was halfway through my archery lesson when news came of my Father's victory in the straights of Fair-Isle, and needless to say, I was let out of lessons for the rest of the day. Instead, I took to reading over Father's letter, again and again, to parse out details from what he had said.

It seemed that the Ironborn had blundered ridiculously, caught with their pants down in the straights and smashed to pieces by my father and the Redwyne's fleets.

He had sailed to Lannisport, where he had sent the letter, and picked up my Uncles army and some Lannisport forces besides, and now he was moving north to get the Stark's army before launching a proper invasion of the Islands. That meant that there were probably only a few months left in the war before he got back.

Whatsmore he explicitly mentioned my cannon, mentioning that it was useful. High praise as far as I was concerned. It only stung a little that they still weren't combat-ready. I was almost ready to give up and go to Iron or Bronze, but I wanted a bigger advantage than the two would provide. I knew there had to be some way to make them from Steel.

Mother for her part smiled thinly at the news, or perhaps at my enthusiasm for it, and Shireen certainly giggled when I read it out to her, which prompted a play session where I carried her about and tickled her.

A play session which was unfortunately interrupted, as one of the castle aids came running into the room.

"Young Lord." the skinny man, Aegor if I recalled properly, said breathlessly. "They have found a vault."

I rested Shireen on my knee, bobbing her gently.

"Where?" I asked as my sister giggled at the change in tone.

"Beneath Aegon's Garden."

My mind raced at the implications, and moreover what might be within.

"Show me."

After I put my sister back in her crib, I followed the man through the labyrinthine passages of the Drum to the back courtyard which housed Aegon's Garden, overlooked by dozens of Stone Gargoyles in the shapes of monstrosities some mythical and some all too real.

At its back right corner, a shaft had been unearthed, and my mouth watered as I saw it. The workers moved aside as I approached and I saw the great red-obsidian door, carved in the shape of a coiling dragon. No lever or doorknob was present.

"So… this is where they hid their treasures." I brushed my hand down the door, feeling the finely wrought stone before turning up to the workmen. "Have any of you found a way to open it?" I asked though they shook their heads at that and I turned back to the vault.

'Probably Fire and Blood knowing the Targs…' I groaned internally. My ancestors on that side truly did have an unhealthy fascination with making their magic require both burning and bleeding. I thought on the likely source, then pulled out a copper knife from my pocket.

After a moment of utter, ludicrous idiocy though, I stopped. The sane part of my mind somehow clinging on to Maester Cressen's insistence on patience and saving me from my own impulsiveness. I put my knife away, making wildfire in front of a crowd was bad practice. Not to mention utterly stupid to do in an uncontrolled environment.

'What the fuck am I thinking.' I crawled out of the pit. For now, I would attribute the momentary lapse in impulse control to Targaryen blood, or perhaps Baratheon as well come to think of it.

Besides, it was magical shit, and as limited as both of our abilities were, Gerald still had more experience with that than me. My resolve set, I ordered the door covered with canvas, for now, I could access it at a later date, and there was no reason to risk a spy somehow getting in or something.

Purpose in my step I made for the Dragonglass dungeon where the more secretive experiments were done.

As I descended the black and more importantly fireproof, pit where all the truly dangerous shit in the castle happened, I silently wished that magic wasn't such a load of horseshit.

The Dragonglass dungeon had, when the Targaryens ruled as a sovereign power, been their equivalent to the black cells, a place to keep their most odious enemies in pitched black obsidian darkness removed from all light. It was thus decorated sparsely and thankfully removed of most of the stupid dragon gargoyles that covered the rest of the castle. An excellent place to serve as my evil lair as it were.

Of course, in reality, my lair here was just a somewhat more magically inclined workshop than the ones on the surface. It was here that I had bid Gerald teach me how to make Wildfire, a surprisingly simple process in reality, though a clearly magical one. Blood should not make copper dissolve into tar and turn it green no matter what ridiculous words you said when you opened the cut, and yet it worked anyway, not that I bothered with it very often.

Whatever magic was in wildfire didn't transfer to metal crafted with it as far as I could tell. That meant it was only really useful as a magical and highly unstable napalm. Still, I did have some stores, made by both myself and Gerald, as well as the three apprentices he had managed to recruit from the school I had set up.

My attempts to use magic for other things were frustratingly inefficient as well, though it did create what might technically be considered an electric light source in the form of some stupid jars on the wall which crackled occasionally with lightning. They looked like novelty plasma lamps and as far as I could tell they were useless as batteries. Even as a light source they were both dim and obviously magical. For the moment they were not suited for much besides accidentally electrocuting yourself.

No, I had largely left this place to Gerald alone since about a year ago. I had decided that magic was mostly useless for what I wanted it to do, and moved on to more practical matters. The remnants of his experiments with percussion caps were the only recent experiments in the room, and I was here mostly to grab a small vial of Wildfire and be on my way.

I selected a clay tube from a particularly weak batch and went on my way. I needed to find Gerald and consult with him on what to do about the vault door.

Soon enough I would have access to whatever it was the Targaryens had squirreled away here.

Soon enough.