Seasoned

Dragonstone, 105 AC

Point of View: Aelor

Eight months have passed since my 4th nameday, or as they say here, eight moons. I've mostly adapted to life in this new world and this new land. The transition might have been harder under different circumstances, but as it stands now, I've lost almost all memories of my past life. The only remnants are my knowledge of the history of A Song of Ice and Fire.

I can't say I miss those memories, especially when I have a loving family here. My mother dotes on me, indulging my every wish, whether it's books, treats, or toys. She would give me the world if she could.

My father is equally loving, though he rarely puts his foot down, and you can see how much he hates to do so. Perhaps he feels guilty for not spending as much time with me. 

My mother and I live in the west wing of the castle alongside the other servants, while my father lives in the village on the docks, not too far away. After all, what need does a castle have for a fisherman?

I chuckle at how this loving family tugs at my heartstrings. Though I can't recall my age before arriving in this world, I know I should be beyond such childish sentiments. Yet, despite my past life's wisdom, this body and heart remain susceptible to their charms. Perhaps it's not just this body; maybe it's simply me, grasping for excuses. Who knows?

I gazed out the small window of the servant's quarters in Dragonstone Castle, my thoughts adrift. The rugged stone walls surrounding me felt both familiar and confining, a stark contrast to the vast expanse of the sea that stretched before me. The waves danced under the afternoon sun, their rhythmic motion a soothing yet powerful force.

Numerous boats dotted the coast, their sails billowing in the wind. Among them, one might belong to my father, but from this distance, I couldn't tell. The uncertainty stirred a mixture of emotions within me—hope, longing, and a tinge of sadness. My father's life as a fisherman kept him away more often than not, leaving me to wonder which vessel carried him home.

As I stood there, the scent of saltwater filled my lungs, mingling with the faint aroma of the castle's kitchens. The sounds of distant laughter and the clinking of armor drifted up from the courtyard, a reminder of the world beyond my quiet sanctuary. Yet, for now, the sea held my gaze, a vast and mysterious entity, much like my own future in this new world.

Laughter fills the room as I remember the expression on my parents faces when they truly realized I was different. 

I remember the day vividly, it was shortly after my 4th nameday, a rare afternoon when both my parents were with me. I was seated at the old wooden table in our quarters, studying a map of Westeros. The intricate details of the Seven Kingdoms fascinated me, and I was lost in thought, tracing the paths of major houses and their sigils. I began to speak, explaining the significance of the different regions and their political alliances with an eloquence and insight far beyond my years.

"Mother, did you know that House Lannister's wealth from the gold mines is what truly allows them to exert such influence over the Crown? And the Starks, they hold the North not just by birthright, but through centuries of loyalty and honor that binds the northern lords to them."

My mother, Aelarys, paused in her work, her eyes wide with astonishment. She exchanged a look with my father, Jory, who had just entered the room, smelling of salt and sea.

"Aelor, how do you know all of this?" she asked, her voice a mix of wonder and concern.

I shrugged, trying to play it off as natural, though I could see the disbelief on their faces. "I've read it in the books you've brought me, Mother. And I listen to the conversations of the lords and knights when they visit."

Jory leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms, his brow furrowed. "Aelor, you're just a boy. Boys your age are usually more interested in playing with wooden swords than understanding the intricacies of politics."

"I know, Father," I replied, meeting his gaze steadily. "But I find this fascinating. It's like a puzzle, and I want to understand how all the pieces fit together."

My parents exchanged another look, a silent conversation passing between them. Aelarys finally spoke, her voice soft. "You're special, Aelor. You always have been. But this... this is something else."

Jory nodded in agreement. "We'll have to be careful, Aelarys. Our son is more than we ever imagined. Perhaps we should nurture this gift."

Their words, filled with pride and caution, made me feel both cherished and wary.

Perhaps I went a bit overboard with my little act, but I had to secure my place under a maester's tutelage. Only the nobility enjoyed the privilege of a maester as their instructor, and even among them, few truly valued the knowledge imparted. I needed to learn how to read and write in the language of this world to begin recording my knowledge before it, too, faded from my memory.

So, with a determination that belied my age, I approached Maester Gerardys, my parents in tow. They had been skeptical at first, unsure of my insistence on seeking such advanced learning. Yet, my relentless curiosity and apparent wisdom for my years had finally convinced them to give me this chance. As we ascended the spiral staircase leading to the maester's quarters, I felt a mixture of excitement and anxiety. This meeting would determine my future.

In the dimly lit room at the top of one of Dragonstone's towers, Maester Gerardys sat behind a wooden desk cluttered with scrolls, books, and various vials. He was a thin man with a sharp nose, gray hair cropped close to his scalp, and eyes that seemed perpetually narrowed in suspicion or deep thought. The room smelled of parchment and old ink, and the narrow windows let in thin streams of daylight, casting long shadows.

I stood before him, flanked by my parents, Aelarys and Jory. My mother, a maid in the castle, stood nervously wringing her hands, while my father tried to look composed despite his evident unease.

Maester Gerardys sighed, a hint of condescension in his voice. "Aelarys, Jory, I understand your pride in your son, but you must forgive my skepticism. It is rare, indeed, to find such wisdom in one so young, especially among smallfolk."

My mother spoke up, her voice filled with determination. "If you Please, Maester Gerardys, just give him a chance. You'll see he's not like other children."

The Maester raised an eyebrow. "Very well, I shall ask three questions. If he answers them correctly, I will consider taking him under my wing."

He turned his sharp gaze to me. "First question: Who was the last Storm King before the Targaryen conquest?"

Without hesitation, I replied, "King Argilac the Arrogant."

Gerardys's eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise, but he continued. "Second question: What is the significance of the Trident?"

I took a moment, then answered, "The Trident is the largest river in the Riverlands, where the river splits into three forks. It is crucial for trade and has been the site of many important battles, including those during the conquest of Aegon the Conqueror."

The Maester leaned forward, a glint of interest in his eyes. "Impressive. Now, for the final and most difficult question: What event led to the fall of Harrenhal and who were the key figures involved?"

My parents exchanged nervous glances, but I answered confidently, "The fall of Harrenhal occurred during Aegon's Conquest. The key figures involved were King Harren the Black and Aegon the Conqueror, who unleashed Balerion the Black Dread to burn Harrenhal to the ground. It showed Aegon's Enemies the fate that awaited them should they refuse to bend the knee."

Maester Gerardys's eyes widened in astonishment. He stood abruptly, knocking over a stack of scrolls in his excitement. "Incredible! Never have I encountered such intellect in a child, not even among the noble-born! This is extraordinary!"

My parents exchanged bewildered looks, having never seen the usually composed Maester so animated. My father stepped forward, placing a calming hand on Gerardys's arm. "Maester, please, calm yourself. We are grateful for your interest, but there is no need for such excitement."

Gerardys took a couple of coughs, attempting to regain his composure. "Forgive me. It is just... I have never seen such potential. Aelor, you must become my student. The knowledge you possess is a gift, and I am determined to help you cultivate it."

My mother smiled, relief and pride evident in her expression. "Thank you, Maester. We are grateful for your willingness to teach our son."

Gerardys nodded, his eyes still wide with awe. "No, it is I who should thank you. This child is extraordinary, and I am honored to guide him on his path of learning. I have seen the brightest minds in Westeros, yet none as promising as Aelor. His potential is limitless, and it would be a crime to let it go to waste."

I smiled inwardly, knowing my plan had worked. My future, my preservation of knowledge, was secure..

I snapped back to the present, my gaze still fixed on the vast expanse of the sea through the window of our modest quarters. The memory of Maester Gerardys's astonishment faded, replaced by the tranquil scene before me. Boats dotted the coastline, their sails billowing gently in the breeze. 

Then, something caught my eye. A shape, larger than any boat, moved gracefully above the water. Its scales were a pale, ghostly grey, blending almost seamlessly with the sky and sea. My breath caught in my throat as I realized what I was seeing.

"Grey Ghost," I whispered, awe-struck.

The dragon glided effortlessly, its wings barely disturbing the air. Unlike the fierce and aggressive dragons I had read about, Grey Ghost seemed calm, almost shy, as he skimmed the water's surface. He was known to avoid humans and other dragons, living a solitary life, and his appearance matched his elusive reputation.

I watched in silent wonder, my heart pounding. It was the first time I had seen a dragon, and the sight stirred something deep within me—a hidden desire, a longing to claim a dragon of my own. Despite the dangers and fears associated with such beasts, the idea of bonding with a dragon, of soaring through the skies, called to me with an irresistible pull.

The dragon turned, flying back towards the distant mountains of Dragonstone, and disappeared from view. I remained by the window, my mind racing. The image of Grey Ghost was etched into my memory, and the desire to connect with one of these magnificent creatures had awakened fully within me.

For the first time since arriving in this world, I felt a true sense of purpose. I would find a way to claim a dragon, no matter the cost.

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