3
Chapter 3: Part III
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Disclaimer: I own nothing, just borrowing for a while.
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"Wars, both civil and foreign, I undertook throughout the world, on sea and land, and when victorious I spared all citizens who sued for pardon. The foreign nations which could with safety be pardoned I preferred to save rather than to destroy"
Joffrey Augustus, Emperor of Westeros and Essos - 356 AL
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The Kingsroad - 298 AL
When Octavian gained the throne upgrading the so-called road they had been traversing into a proper highway of Roman design and construction was going to be towards the top of his to-do list he decided as they finally arrived at the Crossroad's Inn roughly half way to their final destination. It wasn't that the Westerosi even had the excuse of not knowing what a decent road actually was, he thought, rolling his eyes. According to his reading not only had the Valyrian Freehold constructed a vast road network of their own in days past, much of which was still extant in Essos, but even today the City-States there constructed and maintained paved roads of their own to bolster trade.
Thanks to the poor state of the current transport infrastructure in Westeros the journey from Winterfell to King's Landing took an entire month at present, which was wholly unacceptable both in terms of rapid military deployment when required and perhaps even more importantly the reduction in economically beneficial trade during peacetime, Octavian knew. What were these people spending their tax revenue on, he wondered sadly?
The King himself was sat at a table inside the Inn, with a typically overly-generous meal and too much drink set before him and his friend Eddard Stark. Though his friends and close associates called him the abbreviated form "Ned" rather than Eddard, and most others addressed him as Lord Stark, Octavian still considered the naming conventions generally simpler here than in Rome, although the "family" name assigned to illegitimate offspring added a potentially nasty edge to things the new heir to the Iron Throne noted disparagingly.
Stark's own bastard Jon, given the second name "Snow" to indicate his mother was not his father's wife, had headed off northwards to join the Night's Watch guarding the wall at the far end of the kingdom, and Tyrion had joined him in order to see the reputedly gigantic construction first-hand. From Octavian's perspective it was a great pity the dwarf was gone because without him there was a distinct lack of decent conversation and debate to be had meaning that the next few weeks of travel would be even more tedious than they would have been.
Shortly before they left Winterfell another of Stark's sons, this one legitimate, had fallen whilst climbing the walls of the castle. The boy being badly injured and still comatose when they set out for King's Landing Octavian had made sure to be among the first to offer his condolences for the lads condition and let his family know his prayers with with young Brandon. After doing so he overheard the eldest of Stark's sons Robb whisper to his families Ward Theon that perhaps the Prince wasn't the "Right Royal Prick" others said he was, causing Octavian to inwardly smile. If you can fake sincerity you've got it made, he had thought to himself before going back to his books.
The more he learned of this world the more Octavian realised the way the ruling Houses of Westeros looked down upon the plebeian masses here was as bad as the way they looked down on illegitimate members of their own families. Although the Roman Republic did itself frown upon illegitimacy to some extent, and still maintained an aristocracy of sorts even after abolishing the monarchy centuries before, it was nevertheless still easier there for a man of talent and ability to rise above the station he was born into than it was here, to the benefit of himself and society as a whole. Octavian's uncle, Gaius Julius Caesar, had long championed the cause of the common people above that of the Equestrian Order, as indeed had Caesar's own uncle the famous general and record-breaking seven-time Consul-of-Rome Gaius Marius before him, and although a noble by birth, not one of the people himself, Octavian was determined to continue the tradition of his family and be a man for the people.
You didn't have to be generally fond of people as individuals to care about the welfare of people generally after all.
Having already eaten a light lunch, and knowing that his uninvited presence at their table would not be welcomed by Robert Baratheon and Ned Stark, Octavian went for a walk, shadowed as always by his bodyguard the badly scarred and physically imposing Sandor Clegane. Often referred to both in insult and sometimes grudging respect as "The Hound", in certain ways the battle-hardened Clegane reminded Octavian of Titus Pullo, although lacking much of the former legionary's joviality and excessive familiarity and not being quite as foul-mouthed.
Encountering Sansa Stark, as she walked her pet direwolf on a leash around the temporary camp the Royal Baggage Train had formed near the Inn, it seemed apt to inquire if she might wish to join him on his own walk. She readily agreed, looking very pleased at the invitation, and with Clegane now acting as a chaperone of sorts, as well as protection, they headed for the riverbank nearby.
Unfortunately while he was a skilled debater if the topics were more academic Octavian was useless at talking to girls. Feeling increasingly uncomfortable at the resulting long awkward silences as they strolled side-by-side he found himself wishing that he hadn't always tuned out when his sister had prattled on about things that mattered to her. Sansa seemed to expect him to lead the conversation which didn't help at all so it was with much relief that they came upon her younger sister Arya at the riverbank engaged in a mock sword-fight with another child, the two of them waving sticks at each other as her own pet direwolf lay basking in the sun nearby.
Octavian was a self-confessed middling swordsmen but he still knew a great deal more about swordplay than he knew about women and thanking the gods that his mother had insisted on Titus Pullo teaching him the basics he picked a stick of his own off the ground. "Who are you that attacks the sister of my intended bride?" he inquired of the boy haughtily, approaching the children with a determined stride.
The boy gaped at being addressed by the Prince and swiftly dropped to his knees, head bowed. "I wasn't attacking her, your highness" he responded, voice trembling. "Honest I wasn't" he insisted.
"We were just playing" Arya intervened, "He's Mycah, the butcher's boy and my friend" she added, hoping that the boy wasn't going to get into trouble.
Octavian adopted a grin. "If I thought he was really trying to hurt you I'd have drawn my sword in your defence not picked up this stick" he replied. "Although from his form he looked like the one that needed saving from you" he continued. "Get up and watch boy, you might learn something" he said, holding his own stick out towards Arya who initially looked amazed before grinning herself and getting into a fighting stance.
"Arya you can't hit Prince Joffrey with a stick!" Sansa protested as the two of them started to slash and parry, horribly embarrassed at the antics of her tomboyish sister although unsurprised at Joffrey behaving like her brothers did. Robb and Jon had played like this together for as long as she remembered and she reasoned Joffrey did likewise with his own little brother Tommen.
"I agree" Octavian concurred. "She's too slow to ever connect" he stated.
"Too slow!" Arya exclaimed indignantly and practically jumped at him swinging her stick wildly at his head.
Although considerably taller than the girl, who was years younger than him and short for her age anyway, Octavian somehow ducked under the stick and rapped his own against her wrist resulting in her dropping it with a yipe of pain.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to hit you that hard but… OUCH" Octavian cried out himself as the little girl promptly kicked him in the shins in retaliation.
"ARYA!" Sansa exclaimed in horror.
"It's alright I deserved that" Octavian responded, wincing at the pain and bending down to rub what he guessed was a bruise forming. "But letting me anger and disarm you that easily was the worst thing you did there anyway" he chided Arya. "You win with this" he said, straightening back up and pointing to his head, "as much as you do with this" he told the girl, tapping his stick on the the pommel of the sword at his side.
Arya glared at him them frowned realising she was more annoyed at herself for being so easily provoked into making a silly mistake than she was at Joffrey.
Meanwhile Octavian was suddenly aware that Arya's pet direwolf was now on its feet bearing its teeth and growling at him. "Can you call that thing off please" he requested, trying not to sound as nervous as he now felt. Already the size of a full-grown adult wolf from his own world the direwolf would apparently continue to grow to near the size of a pony, making it a rather unsuitable choice for a pet Octavian considered, if not quite as moronic as when Mark Anthony wanted two lions so they could pull his chariot around Rome.
"No Nymeria" Arya told her pet, "Sit down" she ordered, the direwolf looking at her for a moment before obeying, much to Octavian's relief.
Collecting himself Octavian threw his stick into the river. "You know they call my uncle the Kingslayer but from now on I think I'll call you the Princelimper" he told Arya, bending down to rub his shin again.
"Ummm… sorry" Arya apologised awkwardly. "You did hit me first" she pointed out.
"True but here's another truth" Octavian replied. 'Next time we do this I'm wearing greaves" he told her.
When he heard the story later that evening King Robert guffawed with laughter and told his heir to watch out she didn't kick him somewhere higher up next time, because both Ned and himself were hoping for grandchildren and having his future sister-in-law be the reason Joffrey ended up without an heir of his own would make for a "really fucking embarrassing couple of lines in The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms".
Notes:
Note from the author:
The road network in Westeros is awful, even the premier highway from North to South known as the Kingsroad would be seen as pitiful by someone from the Late Roman Republic, and spending weeks travelling from Winterfell to King's Landing (by way of the Crossroad's Inn) has made Octavian pine for the Via Appia.
The Valerian Freehold (being modelled on the Roman Empire after all) maintained a very good road network in Essos and these roads are still in use there centuries after the Doom of Valyria shattered the Freehold both figuratively and literally.
The Direwolf, sigil of House Stark, looks like a regular wolf scaled up. Octavian is right to be wary of them!