Game of Thrones: StormBorn

292AC

I had been surprised at my parent's decision to allow me to go out and visit my prospective betrothed, I had thought I was still a bit young to be let off the leash so significantly, as my mother would still be staying at Dragonstone, and my father would be at kings landing.

Oh, I would still have my minders, of course, my father's men led by my Sworn-Sword Ser Jaerys would be keeping an eye on me, but they were well below my status and I could largely act with impunity as long as it did not directly endanger my life.

Indeed, I was rather hopeful about the entire thing as the Sword of Dragonstone had its frame completed. I was classifying it a heavy Galleon for now, though in my mind it was more of a large frigate, and it had taken a great deal of resources to produce. But with two Gundecks it could host 25 guns to a side, and indeed I was intending to arm it fully on my vessel. I certainly had the cannons stored away to do it. Though they were of the now outdated muzzleloading and smooth bore design. I had neither the men or devices to stock her full of the Armstrong-gun knockoffs that my foundries were now producing albeit at a reduced rate.

I also found myself importing a truly ludicrous amount of white chalk for pigment so I could paint the whole betrothal fleet up. I intended to steal a page from Roosevelt's book on that account, though my own fleet was far less impressive to my mind than those metal titans must have been.

Still, it would be poetic and more importantly impressive to go out to meet potential wives in a fleet of purest white, so I swallowed the cost with little more than a grimace.

What brought more than a grimace to my face was my Grand-uncle's next correspondence from Bravos, however, which confirmed that I had not been so lucky as to have the beggar prince die.

No, apparently he had been taken into the Temple of Rhlor at Volantis and was to be wed to his sister, though no date was set yet. It was a big piece of gossip in the Free-Cities and even the Braavosi had heard the rumors, though the Sealord apparently didn't plan to attend the marriage given it would likely include burning slaves. Honestly, I wasn't sure how it had escaped my ears, save perhaps that Dragonstone itself was so isolated, but if my father didn't know then Robert didn't either, which meant that Varys and probably little finger too did not want them or us to know.

It was worrying, to say the least.

Needless to say, there was not a single thing about that situation that I approved of. The fact that I might end up having to protect the Seven Kingdoms from a Rhlorrite Crusade while I still stood so under-gunned was not a pleasant concept, and it only made me wonder more what the Martell's game was in offering me Arianne's hand. Was it simply a hatred of Volantis, or something a bit more plotty?

I would bet on the latter.

Finally, however, the time came to leave. The Sword of Dragonstone sat prouder in the water than its sisters owing to its deeper draft and generally taller construction. She was heavier too, owing to a fair amount of steel reinforcement internally. A warship rather than a trading vessel. Her crew complement was two-hundred and eighty Men, and another hundred Marines besides, armed now with bolt action rifles. She swayed only a little with the waves compared to other vessels, as if defying the water itself with her bulk.

I was quite confident that no ship from Lonely Light to Ulthos could match her on the water, yet here I was taking her out on a cruise to pick up chicks.

The thought made me chuckle.

A half dozen cutters painted just as white as she was would accompany us. They were scarcely more than gunboats in comparison. It had taken nearly eight months to put them all together, and it would be the next year by the time I returned to Dragonstone.

My father was not there to see me off, but I did have a brass band at least, though only with simple and valveless horns and bugles. They played triumphant sounds out over the ever-growing port and filled the air with their blaring fanfares.

My mother and siblings met me at the docks.

My mother was the first to speak, with a rare display of emotion as she pulled me into her embrace "Take care, Arthur." She said, ruffling my hair with her hand. "You don't have to be rash about this."

I smiled up at her as I met her gaze. "When have I ever been rash, mother?"

She seemed to wince at that, before smiling once again, "Oh I don't know, digging into ancient vaults comes to mind. Regardless, we'll all miss you greatly."

"And I you all too." I snatched my sibling's heads, dragging them into the now-group hug. The two squeaked and giggled and practically melted my heart.

"Love you Arthuh."

"We'll miss you."

I squeezed them both tightly before I let go, backing away from the family and nodding to my mother. "I will be back soon enough, and with news of my betrothal too. Farewell Mother, Shireen, Edric."

They waved me on my way, and there was confidence in my step as I marched to the top deck, where the captain I had hired for the Sword, Aurane Waters, stood lean and tall. He had taken to the job with relish, likely because it allowed him to sail the finest ship on the sea.

"Ready to leave your motherland behind young Arthur?" he asked teasingly, and I nodded back.

"Aye, but now we're off to see yours. To Driftmark, If I'm going to tour the seven kingdoms let none say I neglect my Father's Vassals."

"Aye Milord," he nodded sharply. "Raise the Anchors men. We're off to the blue once more. Let's be sure to show the Lord a proper maiden voyage, in more ways than one no doubt!"