Chapter 110: Anger, Steel and Wit.
"Shut up, traitor," Waymar snapped, and spat into the dirt near Ser Jorah's boots.
The moment the words were out, he regretted them.
The anger he had been holding back for days had finally broken loose, and with it came all the disgust he felt for the man before him. He had meant to remain calm. He had meant to speak only for Artos, for the peace they had come to offer. Instead, he had let the old hatred rise and spit itself into the open.
Fuck. Should have controlled it better, he thought bitterly.
Daenerys's eyes flashed with anger.
"What kind of behavior is this, ser?" she said sharply. "On one hand you come with a proposal of peace, and on the other you spit on a man who serves me and call him traitor. Is this the true face of you and your lord?"
"It is all right, Khaleesi," Ser Jorah said at once, though his voice carried a note that made Waymar's stomach tighten. Jorah knew this wasn't about him serving Khaleesi but something else.
"No, it is not all right, Ser Jorah," Daenerys replied. "I will not tolerate such disrespect toward any of my men."
Waymar swallowed the rest of his anger and forced himself to bow his head.
"I was rude, Khaleesi," he said. "For that I apologize. But I do not call him traitor because he serves you."
He lifted his gaze and looked directly at Jorah.
"I call him traitor for a personal reason. I wish it were only that which made me angry, but it is not. Still, that is no excuse. I should have mastered my temper better. For that, I apologize to you."
Daenerys frowned. "Personal reasons? You know each other?"
"Yes, Khaleesi." Ser Jorah said before Waymar could answer.
"Quite closely," Waymar said, and there was spite in his words whether he wanted there to be or not. "We were brothers in arms once."
Daenerys looked from one to the other.
" what is this I am hearing? "
Ser Jorah remained silent for a moment before saying, "We come from the same kingdom, Khaleesi.From Westeros — The North."
"Aye," Waymar said. "And there is more to it than that. Isn't it Ser" he said in hate and mock.
He turned his head slightly, fixing Jorah with a hard look.
"This man was once Lord of Bear Island in the North. He fled into self-exile here in Essos to escape the judgment of Lord Eddard Stark."
Daenerys's brow furrowed. "Judgment? And what was the matter?"
Waymar's voice turned cold.
"He was taking poachers and selling them into slavery. In the North, that is a crime of the highest sort. Aye, that is why I call him traitor. Traitor to the North, to everything the North stands for, to everything the Starks stand for. He was born to a house known for loyalty, and he stained that name in shame. He betrayed his father's legacy and the trust of his brethren. That is why I call him traitor."
He paused, breathing hard, then went on more quietly, though no less harshly.
"I am here to speak of peace, and I respect Khal Drogo and the khaleesi. That is the only reason I have not gutted him where he stands."
The silence that followed was heavy.
Sea Dragon Point
Far away in the North, at Sea Dragon Point, another matter was unfolding.
"My lord," Bert said, "the winter guards are gathering well. You could ride for the Wall in a few days."
Jon smiled and shook his head. "Come on, Uncle. Don't call me lord. You raised me from boy to man. It feels strange hearing it from you. Just call me Jon."
Bert smiled back. "I heard you, boy. But that is in private. In public, or on duty, manners matter."
Jon gave a small sigh. "I doubt anyone would mind if you called me Jon in public. Everyone knows your place in Uncle's household and relationship of Uncle Arty and you.You have been with him since the beginning."
Bert laughed softly. "Serving Lord Artos has been the honor of my life. I am grateful to late Lord Rickon for giving me the chance. That is why I tell you this, lad. Formality has its place. Do not fight it. Learn to wear it."
Jon could do little but nod. The man was as stubborn as any northman.
Bert gave a firm nod of his own. "And yes, my lord, there is something you need to do before you leave."
Jon frowned. "What?"
Bert's mouth curved into a knowing smirk. "Lord Artos told me to see to it before you departed. He said it was finally time for you to see the room."
That drew a smile from Jon at once.
He had spent all his childhood at Sea Dragon Point, loved and allowed freedom in nearly everything, save for one room.
It had always been locked to him. No one was allowed inside except Lord Artos himself and a few trusted men.
It had become one of the great mysteries of his childhood.
"So I'm finally to learn the secret of that room?" Jon said, amused and eager. "What has Uncle Arty been hiding from us all these years?"
Bert laughed. "Aye, lad. Come on."
They entered at last.
The room was not dark or forbidding as Jon had once imagined. Instead it was beautiful in its own strange way, filled with objects gathered over years and journeys: rare things, costly things, curious things, dangerous things. Some were common enough at first glance, but each had been kept with care.
It was a treasury of memory more than gold.
Bert's grin widened when he saw Jon's expression. "A collection from Lord Artos's travels. Things he liked. Things he wanted. Gifts. Treasures. Some are personal, some precious, and some dangerous. That is why the room was kept closed."
Jon wandered slowly through the space until he saw what drew Bert's attention.
Valyrian steel.
He stopped before a pair of daggers, their dark rippled blades unmistakable.
"Valyrian Steel" Jon said
"Aye," Bert said. "He found those in Essos, in an auction if I remember rightly. He used them for a time, but he does not carry weapons now. He wanted you to have them."
Jon stared.
"For me?"
"Aye," Bert said. "Lord Artos has always seen you as his own blood. He loves you like a son, not merely a nephew. He wanted to give you something of his own, something to mark his care for you. He chose these. A legacy of him for you to carry."
Jon did not know what to say. He always wanted a Valyrian Steel Ice , A sword he has seen in his Father's Hand. But he knew it was not his to claim but Robb. So seeing the same steel. He is in a contemplation
Bert placed the daggers in his hands. "Take them, boy. They are his gift."
Jon accepted them with real gratitude in his heart.
He turned them once, feeling the weight of the steel.
Then, just before leaving, he noticed another object.
He pointed at it. "Is that a dragon egg?" A weird attraction and fascination towards it.
Bert looked over and nodded. "Aye. A gift from some Pentoshi magisters, if I remember rightly. To be honest I am not sure Lord Artos has a Vice of buying things he fancies, whether he needs them or not. After earning too much coins he had started to buy everything he see as rare or valuable."
Jon's eyes remained fixed on it.
"Could I have it?" His attraction and fascination let him be a bit shameless. It was suprise to himself also.
That surprised Bert. He had not seen Jon ask for anything like that in years.
Then he chuckled. "I do not think Lord Artos would mind. If it is for you, then aye. You may have it."
Small Council
In King's Landing, Artos made his way toward the small council chamber with his men behind him.
He entered with Raka at his back and left the rest of his men at the gates.
"My lord Hand," the councilors said as one, rising in respect.
Artos gave a short nod and took the head of the table, Raka standing silently behind him.
He settled into the chair and let the room fall still.
"There are many things we must attend to today," he said. "Many matters that need our attention."
Then his good eye shifted to Varys.
"But first—Lord Varys. Any word on Lord Stannis?"
Varys spread his hands in his usual mild manner. "I am afraid not, my lord Hand. I have yet to discover the cause of his departure from King's Landing, but I continue my search and will bring you what I learn as soon as I can."
Artos nodded, though he was not satisfied.
He studied the eunuch for a moment, then spoke in a tone that seemed unrelated at first.
"You are from Essos, are you not, Spider?"
Varys blinked, clearly taken off guard. "Yes, my lord."
"Hm," Artos hummed. "Someone once told me never to trust an Essosi eunuch, and especially not one from Myr."
That made the room go still.
Varys smiled faintly, though there was uncertainty beneath it. "In politics, my lord, one should trust no one too easily. That is a wise thing to do But not trusting a Eunch is bit of a superstition than anything, my Lord"
Artos laughed.
"Experience, not superstition," he said lightly. "A man I know once told me that. A man too much well versed in Politics "
He let the words hang.
Then he added, with a small, sharp smile, "and I ought to trust the man afterall He is the Sealord of Braavos, and my goodfather."
That brought a confused silence over the room, but only for a moment.
Then the council moved on to other matters, though none of them entirely forgot the edge in Artos's voice.
...
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