Chapter 2: Beginning
Year 98 AC.
Amidst the grandeur of Storm's End, where stone towers rose defiantly against the raging sea, you could hear cries of a woman in a small, dimly lit room. In the heart of Storm's End, her cries of pain echoed through the ancient halls, harmonizing with the distant rumble of thunder. The winds howled fiercely as if nature itself was in awe of this momentous occasion.
All around the seven kingdoms raged storms like no one has ever witnessed before—From the icy shores of the North to the arid deserts of Dorne.
Within Storm's End's dimly lit chambers, Maester Wilkin and the castle's midwives stood at Selyne's side, the lady of Storm's End.
guiding her through the labor with all of their effort. After a long and arduous labor and through the storm's cacophony, a newborn's cry pierced the air, announcing the arrival of a boy destined for greatness. "Durin," Selyne whispered, her voice carrying the weight of a mother's love and the weight of the stor that raged outside. "His name shall be Durin Baratheon."
Selyne stared at her newborn son with tired eyes and a newfound love not realizing the intelligent eyes looking back at her.
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Year 101 AC.
In the castle of Storm's End, within one of the rooms located at the tower's peak, you could here a lecture going on.
"Harrenhal's walls were too high and too thick, and well-stocked enough to withstand a siege. During a parley outside the castle, Aegon offered to confirm Harren as Lord of the Iron Islands, provided he would yield."
"But Harren was a prideful one"
Maester Wilkins was giving a lecture on how the Targaryen dynasty began when Aegon the conqueror decided to look west instead of east.
"And what do you think happened, after that young Durin" said the maester.
In front of the Maester, sat on the opposite side of the table, was a boy no older than 3 name days. Durin Baratheon bore the unmistakable features of his noble lineage. His fiery red eyes, inherited from his mother, Selyne Baratheon, glimmered with a fierce intensity, contrasting with the raven-black hair that adorned his head, a hallmark of House Baratheon. Though young, his sturdy build and broad shoulders hinted that the Baratheon blood flowed through his veins.
Durin who was looking at the raging sea from the window answered perfectly, although leaving some key details behind.
"Aegon took his dragon and burned the castle down," said Durin now looking at the Maester.
"Yes, that is correct" Maester Wilkins already used to the child antiques shrugged the vague answer, and continued the lesson.
"And do you think burning the castle of Harrenhal was wise," asked Maester Wilkins to the now attentive Durin.
The room became quiet for a minute and just when the maester thought Durin would not answer he got a surprising answer.
"The burning of Harrenhal was a display of House Targaryen power, but wisdom lies not in the flames themselves, but in the aftermath they leave behind," said Durin.
"What do you think every lord or lady thinks when they travel through Harrenhal," continued Durin, surprising the Maester a little because he realized what Durin was saying.
"Hmm?" hummed Durin.
"King Aegon needed to give a message to the lords of the seven kingdoms" Durin continued
The maester who looked thoughtful asked" And what do you think that message was"
Durin locked eyes with the maester his red eyes glowing with maturity.
"To not dance with the house of the dragon, lest you get burnt," Durin said scoffing at his own comment.
" That's an excellent deduction young Durin" said the maester
"With the burning of Harrenhal, King Aegon made his power known and many kings knelt because of it, one of them being the king in the north Torhen stark"Continued Maester Wilkins.
Durin, who continued to listen to the Maester's lecture, turned his gaze away from him and once again looked at the sea through the window.
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Every time I look at the sea from here it reminds me of how absurd the situation I'm in is. My name is Durin Baratheon and I'm not from this world.
Before I was born in this world I was a famous violinist. I was known to compose and play music for fantasy movies and plays. And I made quiet a living out of it.
That's one of the reasons I know that the world I'm in now is the world of Game of Thrones and that two and a half decades from now one of the most chaotic wars of Westeros will take place.
The Dance of the Dragons.
When I realized this fact I became sick to the point where my mother Selyne thought I was going to die. I was unresponsive for two whole weeks as a baby, But something I realized was giving up before anything even began was dumb beyond belief so I put my big boy pants on and decided I had enough time to prepare and set up a game board that is beneficial to me in more ways than one.
My internal monologue was interrupted by a knock on the door.
"Knock"
"Knock"
"Knock"
I looked from the window to the door where Maester Wilkins was standing in front. The door opened to reveal one of the many servants of Storm's end.
"Yes?" said the maester
"The Lord is calling the young lord to dine with the family maester" said the servant.
' I haven't even realized that it was passed mid-day' I thought looking outside again.' but then again who can tell the time when a storm like that is raging all the time'
I stood up from my seat and walked past the maester before he stopped me saying " One thing before you leave "
He went to one of the bookshelves that were beside the window and took an old dusty book from the bottom shelf that looked so old it looked ancient.
He handed me the book."I want you to try and read this book and tell me what you make of it in our next lesson, okay?"
I looked at the book cover ' Honestly reading books isn't a bother to me but sometimes this old coot can go too far'
"Maester our next lesson is tomorrow," I said with a deadpan.
"I know," He said continuing his way out of the room and to his chambers most likely.
"sigh"
I looked to where the servant was standing and I turned my attention back to the book in my hand that was too big for me to carry with a childish body like mine.
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I stepped into the dining room that was loud from my brothers ranting, the servant who I gave the book stalking behind me.
"And then the damn boar charged at me , and me not having my blade I threw my dagger in his eye socket and it squealed like a fucking whore HAHAHAHA!
"BORROS! Mind your language at the table" my mother Selyse scolded my eloquent brother.
I quietly took a seat next to my mother, I looked around the table. Seated at the head of the table was my father, Boremund Baratheon who was laughing at the story my brother was telling him. to his left was my mother, and sitting opposite her was my brother Borros.
My sister Jocelyn was seated in front of me and seemed to be the only one to notice my presence.
" I see you're not getting any smarter brother," I said, That comment seemed to get everyone's attention.
"Hello dear" my mother greeted me with a kiss on my forehead.
My mother, Selyse Baratheon (nee) Dragen was the epitome of the best mother anyone could ask for—gentle and kind. But, don't let that fool you, for I've witnessed her fiery northern heritage emerge on occasion.
"Hello, Mother. How has your day been?" I asked.
She glanced at Father briefly before replying, "It's been good, dear."
As I observed the exchange, I couldn't help but think, 'Well, would you look at that.'
Typically, she spends her days attending to the household's needs, playing the role of a lady from a great house. However, these days, she's been mysteriously preoccupied, spending suspicious amounts of time with father.
Last week, whispers from the servants reached my ears, bearing news of Prince Baelon's passing—an inevitability considering the year. The Great Council of Harrenhal is imminent, and it appears that my parents have been devising a plan to garner support for Princess Rhaenys or, failing that, for Laenor.
"What about you, dear? The maester has been singing praises of you," she said.
Before I could respond, my brother interrupted with a haughty air, "Mother, you know how that old coot can exaggerate. What can a lad of only three names know?"
Me and my brother, we have a complicated relationship. While we do get along at times and share moments of agreement, there's an underlying tension that stems from his tendency to feel superior. Whenever I display signs of intelligence or showcase my abilities, it seems to trigger feelings of insecurity in him. This, in turn, adds a layer of complexity to our interactions and often leads to misunderstandings and conflicts.
"Well, my dear brother, intelligence knows no boundaries of age. Perhaps you should focus on broadening your understanding rather than belittling others with your superiority complex."
After I called Borros out the room seemed to quiet down, the servants who were going about their work stopped and my sister who was drinking her wine started coughing.
"Why yo..."
"That's enough Borros!" MY father interrupted my brother before he spat any more insults.
I did not call you all here to bicker," my father said, his voice low and commanding. He locked eyes with Mother, and they seemed to engage in a silent exchange before he continued.
"The Crown Prince has passed away," my father dropped the bombshell.
"Huh," my sister gasped, visibly shocked by the news.
"When, father?" asked Borros, his muscles tensing with curiosity.
My father took a massive swig from his cup before answering, "Two weeks ago. He died of a burst belly during a royal hunting trip."
My sister's face bore a look of concern as she asked the crucial question, "What about the crown, father? If the king's sons are all dead, who will it go to?"
Father paused for a moment, a shrewd glint in his eyes, before responding, "That, my dear, is exactly why we are all gathering here."
My mother was the one to continue my father's sentence.
"The king has called for a great council in Harrenhal"
'Well then let the games begin' I thought, sweat running down my forehead.
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Hello, everyone!
Author here, I would greatly appreciate your feedback on this project.
Over the past week, I've dedicated myself to outlining the direction of the story, and I've taken extra care in crafting this chapter to give it a professional touch.
I kindly request constructive criticism to help me improve and make the characters feel authentic with emotional depth.
Your support means a lot to me, and I hope you enjoy reading my fanfiction.
Thank you!
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