Nightwing95 — Roleplayer Guild

The Stepstones(colab with@MrDidact)

Dusk was rapidly falling on the port, and soon the band's ruse would be sprung. Visenya and William would make as if to attack the ship, and Seran would be dragged away like a prisoner. It'd take quite a bit of effort, skill, and no small amount of luck to pull off the deception convincingly without accidentally killing anyone. On the  Silver Serpent , Aemon cleaned Blackfyre of blood while Viserys slumped on the bed in the captain's cabin, absently twiddling a coin in his fingers and drinking wine. The brothers, including Rhaegar, all shared the spacious room. 

Aemon said, "It might not be wise to drink right before we're supposed to be faking a fight." 

Viserys shrugged, taking another long gulp, "A fight that's supposed to be loud and furious, but where nobody dies. I say it'd be more convincing if at least some of us were drunk. All for the mission brother." 

"I'm sure bedding that Lyseni girl was for the mission as well?" 

"She had critical intelligence, very sensitive information." 

Aemon smirked, "That's not the only thing she had, I'm sure." 

Viserys laughed, "Don't blame me for having a man's tastes. We can't be all righteous and chaste like you." 

"And who said I was chaste?" 

Viserys rolled his eyes, "The honorable Aemon Targaryen, a womanizer? Please. I bet Julianna was your first. Well first woman at any rate. I don't know what you've been getting up to on Dragonstone. On that cold rock, I'm sure the dragonseed stableboys look better than an empty bed. Hell the sheep probably do as well." 

Aemon tossed an inkwell at Viserys and the laughing prince soon sputtered, coughing as his expensive clothes were extensively stained. Now it was Aemon's turn to laugh as Viserys indignantly stomped behind a silk screen and proceeded to change. 

Aemon recovered and said, "On a serious note, we have to be ready to move as soon as Visenya runs off with the Lyseni. We give them half an hour, then we burst in. I'll lead a frontal assault, knock down their door. You Viserys have to cover our flank, make sure none of their friends show up to complicate things. And you Rhaegar, I think it's best you slip in the back with a few men, take them in the rear while we attack." 

Between the three of them, it was expected of Rhaegar to be the more quiet and somber one. But what was was truly astounding was the fact that the youngest Targaryen Prince was spending his time behind the cabins study. What had begun as a simple letter he intended to send to Kings Landing- one to inform on the development of their undertaking and ensuring Lysara that her brother was safe- had instead turned in an attempt to craft poetry for the object of his affections. Unlike his namesake, he was no great singer or even a competent artist, yet Viserys insisted that if he wished for a woman to fall for him, he should first 'ravish' her with his words. 

The completion of his first verse was finally coming to a close....when suddendly Aemon deicded to launch his inkwell, aiming at their brother. Rhaegar let the quill down with a sigh of defeat, simply nodding at the instructions as he slumbed back into the cushioned chair. Looking at a sheathed Dark Sister, safely tucked away, he turned back to the Prince of Dragonstone "What about using blunted blades for the fight. Would the corsairs that frequent such places even notice the difference?" he asked, the last few battles addin to his understanding of how unforgiving Valyrian Steel could be, against both felsh and armor.

Aemon nodded, "Blunted blades can work. Plus clubs and fists. No sharp edges. We make a good show of it, bloody everyone a bit. But keep them all alive. The pirates will write off no deaths to everyone being drunk and in the dark. Perhaps a few of us can keep an edge to the blade just to make it look convincing. We'll leave the Valyrian steel in the cabin until we have to do our own counter-raid, but we can parry with Visenya. Give them a show." 

Viserys came out with a fresh shirt, this one even more flashy than the last and came up with interest over Rhaegar's shoulder, "The show I'm curious about is this letter. What is this Rhaegar? That doesn't look like a report." He read, his grin growing even larger by the second, "My my, our little brother is turning into quite the lover. Forgetting our dreams of chaste servitude in the White Cloaks already? Well who can blame you? That Lysara has massive-" 

Aemon interjected, "Leave him alone Viserys, you're the one who encouraged him." 

Viserys laughed, "Just a bit of fun Aemon. Really, I'm proud Rhaegar. Proud. You're finally becoming a man. Hey I have an idea. That Lysara is probably not a virgin, so when you finally do the deed, you have to impress her. I met a fine wench at that tavern, I say we should buy her services for a tumble. So you can learn. Call it an early nameday present, what do you say?" 

Aemon rolled his eyes, "I'm sure that's exactly the kind of gift Rhaegar wants." 

"It is very thoughtful I know." 

Aemon ignored Viserys, "You can do anything you set your mind to Rhaegar. You beat father in the melee, you don't need our help pursuing this woman. You'll do just fine."

"Unlike you brother, I don't have the need to cross half the Narrow Sea in search of a tumble!" Rhaegar nearly spat out the last part, kicking the chair back with his feet and leaving the study. His defenses were easily raised, even amongst the presence of his family and especially when somebody questioned his dream. Truth be told, he was neither that young or foolish to think that any man that bore the White Cloak was a paragon of virtue from their first cry as a babe. Seven Hells, he even knew about Madame Pia from the Street of Silk that Ser Josmyn visited so often. 

Walking towards the large cabin widow, the Prince contemplated as he looked at the dark waves. He was drawn to Lysara , that was true, but his father would never allow for one of his sons to wed a handmaiden. So it would be a fling, for as long as he could keep it...

"Sweet words. Gentle touches..." he whispered to himself before turning back to the other two royal residents of the Silver Serpent.

"I am grateful for your support, both of you, but you shouldn't have to lower yourselves to appease me. We all know that if father wanted to, he would have me writhing in defeat, caked in a blend of dirt and my own blood."

Aemon finished wiping down Blackfyre, sheathing the blade and saying, "Perhaps. But I saw the melee. We both did. We say that you didn't give up, that you were never going to give up. Father saw it too. He saw an unbreakable spirit in you. That's why you won, that's why he knighted you, gave you Dark Sister." 

Viserys nodded, unusually serious, "Indeed. History will remember Aemon as a king, me as a lecher. Jahaerys as a scholar, Daenyra as a mage. Baella as a musician. But you Rhaegar, you will be a warrior. We were all proud of you that day."

"I surely couldn't be more fortunate...to receive such a bountiful amount of gifts." Rhaegar said after a long moment of silence. A knighthood, admission into a prestigious order, legendary weapons, even the love and pride of his family were things that motivated him and shaped his dream, his need to give back for the things that were handed to him.

"Even such a small and uneventful thing as speaking to Lysara in the gardens that night...it felt to me that I had earned something. Despite her station, that woman could have anyone she wanted, from a low hedge-knight to a mighty lord, yet she accepted the advances of the Prince that is furthest away from the Throne. And if I am to earn her affections at the very least...I must be more than adequate for her."  

Aemon smiled at his brother, "Then do so Rhaegar. Go and win her heart, and here at the Stepstones, you'll have a real chance to prove yourself. We've come to a dangerous place, and we will have very little help. We're practically on our own, and we must stick together. I vowed to mother that I'd watch out for both of you, but you will have to watch out for me too. Whatever comes, I am happy to face it with you."
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