Bab 36: Chapter 36: Sorrow’s End - 119 AC
Three years have passed since the arrival of Gormond to the Stepstones as its temporary steward. While the situation has been relatively subdued, sporadic raids by slavers persist, targeting both passing vessels and the isle itself. Despite the modest activity at Grey Gallows, it falls short of Gormond's expectations. The occasional merchants' vessels docked to refill supplies to continue their voyage, but most didn't stay for a longer period of time, but it was only the beginning of the settlement, as when the merchants heard of the non-existent docking tolls, they looked quite elated, and hoped that they would spread the words to other ports of the Narrow Sea as well.
Now, for the knight, the days are of boredom and sitting all day in his study, he had almost hoped that the slavers would attack the island everyday to cure him of these repeating tasks.
Suddenly, a knock came from the door, prompting Gormond to sit straightly from his previous relaxed position.
"Enter." Gormond declared.
And so the door was opened, and his own son, Arthor, who is now almost a man-grown, in a few more years time at least, is the one who entered the room. Seeing this, Gormond went back to his relaxed posture, with Arthor standing just right in front of Gormond's desk.
"Arthor. What brings you here?" questioned Gormond calmly.
"I just escorted mother to her ship to sail back to Lys for the year." the boy simply said, and he also took out something, a piece of paper, from his pocket, placing it on the desk.
"That's good." Gormond hummed, taking the paper, though he didn't read it yet. "How are your lessons with her? Going well, I hope?"
"The Lyseni dialect is not exactly High Valyrian, father. It's a corruption of it." Arthor shook his head. "It messes with my understanding of the language."
Gormond looked intrigued. "Your understanding of Lyseni or High Valyrian?"
"Both." Arthor sighed. "Mother is a great teacher, but I cannot learn High Valyrian and Lyseni at the same time."
"Then you should focus on Lyseni." Gormond hummed.
"Why not High Valyrian?" Arthor raised his brow.
"What? You're to speak to the Targaryens daily?" countered Gormond. "Besides, you can get closer to your mother by learning Lyseni."
"She visits but briefly each year, Father. I doubt the efficacy of her lessons," Arthor counters.
Gormond gazes at his son, wordlessly conveying his expectations. Arthor sighs, conceding to his father's wisdom.
As Gormond peruses the paper, his demeanor shifts from calm to perplexed. "What news does it bear?" Arthor inquires.
"Word from Dragonstone. The princess is with child, her fourth," Gormond divulges. "Three sons already, and now a fourth. The realm teems with silver-haired dragon princes nowadays."
"Is that not a boon?" Arthor ventures. "More potential dragon riders to safeguard the realm?"
Gormond chuckles. "Dragons as defenders?" He sets the paper down. "Read further."
Arthor complies, absorbing the contents. "Cousin is to assume your role next year? And tasking you to rename the island?"
"Some years past, the crown broached the subject of renaming the isle, given its grim nature," Gormond reminisces. "We offered noncommittal assent then, never expecting the request to resurface."
"But why does cousin ask you to name it?" Arthur questioned again. "Why not him? He was the one who conquered these lands."
"Why bother naming things?" Gormond sighed. "What do you think? Have any ideas?"
Arthor didn't answer, he just walked towards the window and looked through the scenery outside, towards the dock, towards the streets, towards the people.
"I heard the people called this island with an entirely different name." Arthor said.
Gormond raised his brow. "Really? I never really caught on to their dialect. Most of them speak languages that I couldn't recognize."
"Well, most of them come from Essos, not Westeros. It's natural that they don't speak common." Arthor nodded. "I heard that they call this island 'Mōris Hen Munnon', quite a name."
"What does it mean?" Gormond questioned.
"End of Sorrow." Arthor answered.
Gormond hummed. "It makes sense. A lot of them are former slaves. This place seems like a palace to the pens that they have been kept in before. End of Sorrow… Sorrow's End. A good name."
"Shall we write an answer to the missive, then?" Arthor continued.
Gormond nodded. "Go ahead."
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Meanwhile, at Dragonstone, Princess Rhaenyra is currently standing in front of the painted table of the castle, a table that displays the entirety of Westeros, from The Wall in the north, to Dorne in the south. She was caressing her belly, her fingers tracing her own skin back and forth as her eyes focused on King's Landing atop the painted table, her expression showing longing. It was then that the door of the chamber suddenly opened, which made her turn her focus towards the one who entered.
It was a boy, his hair silver, his eyes lilac, looking tired and beaten, his face showing munches of dirt. When the boy looked at Rhaenyra, he relaxed, though annoyed.
"Mother," he greeted her.
"A great session at the training grounds, I presume?" Rhaenyra smiled. "You should wash yourself first, Jace. Your aunt will be here in a few moments."
"Lady Laena is coming?" the boy, Jace, perked up. "How about Ser Clement?"
"He's a busy man. Just like both your grandfathers." Rhaenyra said.
"Oh." Jace looked disappointed, though he just quickly walked towards the painted table, playfully looking around. "What of Daemon?"
"What about him?" Rhaenyra asked back. "Daemon is… still in exile. You know that. What is wrong with you today? The household knights are not enough as your instructor?"
"It's boring here." answered the boy. "When do we go to King's Landing?"
Rhaenyra went quiet for a second, walking towards her child and caressing his hair. "King's Landing is not our place at the moment. I am the heir of the throne, and my duty is here, in Dragonstone. What is it that you seek there?"
"A friend." Jace simply said.
Rhaenyra frowned. "Are your brothers not enough?"
"Luke and Joff are children." the boy scoffed. "Perhaps if I am in King's Landing, I could be equal to my uncles—"
"No." Rhaenyra cut him off. "They are not friends, Jace. Why are you suddenly interested in them? You didn't grow up with them, yet long for them?"
"Like I said. I'm bored." Jace murmured, laying his head on the painted table. "Only Vermax is my companion here."
Rhaenyra sighed, looking at his eldest longingly. "Then perhaps you want to invite someone? To accompany you. As fellow squires."
"Fellow squires?" Jace repeated. "Who?"
"Well, like I said, your aunt will be here in a few moments by dragonback." Rhaenyra said with a smile. "Ask her."
"The twins?" the boy frowned. "I am half their age, mother."
Rhaenyra's smile went even wider. "Just ask her, Jace. But wash yourself first."
It was then that the both of them could hear a thundering roar outside, almost a signature of the Dragon Vhagar when she came upon Dragonstone. Hearing this, Rhaenyra merely stared at her son, as if signaling him to go do what she told him. With a sigh, the boy nodded, and left quickly, onward to wash himself.
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A/N: I'm a bit burnt out at the moment, as you can see from the length of this chapter and the quality. So I'm planning to take a break after this and write something else to refresh myself from this book. I'll probably be back around the time when HOTD season 2 is airing, probably early to mid july. in the meantime I'm probably going to upload another book that is not as demanding to write as this one, or maybe not.
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