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Published:2020-04-25Updated:2026-04-06Words:409,591Chapters:71/?Comments:5,539Kudos:6,021Bookmarks:1,661Hits:467,442
The Stormborn and the Stormbringer
SkilledWarriorKiwi
Chapter 64: SHOPPING
Notes:
Dragon info
Chapter Text
Lysa was born in King's Landing to a family who had owned a small yet well kept tavern for seven generations.
Eel alley that they lived within, named for its wavering shape, was filled thickly with inns and taverns. It was also located at the base of Visenya's Hill and as such had narrowly escaped the catastrophic explosion when the Sept of Baelor had been destroyed by the Mad Queen. Lysa and her family had prayed diligently after that event, both for those lives lost and thanking the gods for sparing their home and tavern during the destruction. Only several streets higher was the destruction fully cleared away, a barren landscape upon the hill, and it had taken over two months for the road itself to be fixed into something usable for the smallfolk. Lysa thought they were unsure to rebuild the sept back upon its grandeur but that was worries for the nobility and king so as with many she simply went back to work.
Each third day Lysa and her brother would wake at dawn and take the donkey and wagon, down to the River Gate, so they can begin their day of trading, buying and bartering.
Lysa's grandmother was sitting outside and weaving upon an old wooden loom upon that morn. The thick sheep wool was being spun into another blanket, despite the small horde they already had awaiting in storage.
"You seem to live upon that thing," she japed, as Osmund hitched the little donkey to their wagon.
Her grandmother quirked a wrinkled brow, "Can never have enough blankets. These, firewood and food will be worth more than gold by the end of winter, believe me child."
"Winter seems manageable," Lysa said, finishing off tying the ribbon in her hair.
Her grandmother laughed, making her flush, "Oh sweet one, you think this is winter? This scatter of snow, flicker of frost? Nay, this is the gods huffing a few breaths. When winter does swallow us, the only warmth you will feel is if you thrust your hand into the fire. And the cold always brings sickness- the Shivers, the Winter Fevers. Not just starvation and the cold but illness too. The last winter was so harsh the Blackwater itself began to freeze. Now we have gone past a ten year summer, the longest ever known, and winter also meets its opposite well and true. A decade of the cold, the snow, the sleet, the ice, the sickness, the starvation. Ah, my dear. I won't live through it, doubt that sweet wee little donkey will either, but I hope at the very least the gods allow half of you younglings to."
Troubled, Lysa had followed her brother and the cart as they began their trip across the city. The roads of King's Landing did have a slick of frost but already it was starting to melt. The snow that had come would never settle, the ground too damp or the sun too hot for it to linger long. But it had only been three weeks into winter and they heard of the blizzard that had swept across Winterfell, raging for weeks on end before spilling away and leaving mild and scattered rainfall in the aftermath. Lysa just assumed that since the snowfall had receded perhaps the weather would remain mild. She was six-and-ten, and the summer had been long. All that she knew in a way.
She knew they had been lucky that when King Aegon arrived; the city had acted swiftly to surrender up the Mad Queen, throwing open the gates with nary a shout and blare of trumpets. Only her few zealot loyalists had remained, as after the destruction of the Sept of Baelor many were swift to blame Cersei for such a grave sin. The Red Keep had barred their gates, essentially a fortress within the city, as the only stronghold for the Mad Queen.
Even so Lysa had heard of the fighting, many gold cloaks refusing to obey the demands of the Mad Queen even as septons and septas walked the streets of King's Landing, voicing the sins of Cersei Lannister as the bells within their holy hands rang. Yet the surrender had meant there was no sacking of the city, as the army had focused upon the Red Keep. If those within were attacked then Lysa did not care overly long as she and her family were left alone. But considering the Mad Queen's paranoia and the amount of heads being put upon spikes across the Red Keep's ramparts, she wondered just how many had been left inside.
Lysa hadn't witnessed the once-queen's Walk of Shame, as the religious oft called it, but her family occasionally would trade with brothels. Inns and taverns were close bosom buddies with such a trade, with their wines, and as such Lysa knew which brothels to avoid and which were to barter with. One of the whores who would trade with them upon behalf of her madame, with dark skin and hair but vibrant blue eyes and thus known as Sapphire, told them with great gusto of how she had witnessed the Walk when they dropped off wine crates.
"I would've wagered a lions share she would've stayed and starved in the cells of the sept," Sapphire had said, even as she checked over the wine crates upon the cart with a sharp, seasoned gaze. "Instead they stripped her bare and kept her walking. Wondered the crowd didn't rip her limb from limb the ways it was braying. But aye, she was stripped bare and after being dragged from the Red Keep like any common folk. That was ain't a queen walking, not no noble blessed by the gods, but just a woman with saggin' teats and stretch marks across her lumpy belly, walkin' bare and stripped and nothin' more than a woman like any other, and she ain't ever getting that back."
After the catastrophe at the Sept of Baelor, with the explosion being felt even from across the city, Lysa had to wonder if that in part caused it. Humiliation as humility, but from everything Lysa knew Queen Cersei was as beautiful as she was cruel. Or mayhaps not anymore, so she instead chose cruelty over it all.
But now she was dead and King Aegon had been coordinated in the royal sept and a week long celebration swept across the city. There was no love lost for the Mad Queen, and her loyalists had either fled or been killed. Lysa and her family just continued life as always, the perils and concerns of kings and queens were not her business even as weeks turned into month before a year had passed as the air grew ever colder.
Dragons though...
The first time her brother excitedly burst into their house babbling about dragons Lysa thought him addled. After all, they knew the dragons had returned- House Targaryen banners flew across the city, with the gold of House Lannister, the yellows of Baratheon, all torn away. The dragons had indeed returned and Lysa had said so in a highly condescending tone that got her scolded by her mother.
Only for her brother to drag them outside, pointed excitedly up to the sky. Many others were standing in the street, trying to shield their eyes from the sun or babbling to one another. Then Lysa heard the calls, and then she saw the shapes flittering through the sky. Too jagged to be birds, and the crowd exploded into excitement and fear.
Lysa had just dismissed the claims of dragons returning as talking of the Targaryens themselves; everyone knew the only one with an actual dragon was the exile to the east, rumours and tales brought in to the great wharfs and spreading through taverns as quickly as mead was poured, of the beggar-girl-turned-queen-turned-dragonrider-turned-empress.
Now though, there were ones flying across King's Landing. Right above their heads. Bright and vibrant, scales flashing like jewels in the sun as they shot through the sky. Announcements came just as swift, criers from the Red Keep bearing news as they strolled the streets ringing their bells. Reassuring the populace of the dragons belonging to the rightful king of Westeros, named as a dragonlord as his namesake the Conqueror had been so.
There were three dragons; one white one purple and one orange. They were vibrant, scales shimmering as they flitted through the sky like fish through the river.
Still, it was strange how swiftly Lysa and the rest of King's Landing grew accustomed to the dragons. For the first few weeks people would quickly go outdoors or watch at the wharf or ramparts or get closer to the Hill of Rhaenys to try and catch a closer sight of the creatures yet life would not halt for them. Lysa still had to help clean the inn, pick up orders and do supply runs while helping with laundry and candle-making and cooking.
Already the Dragonpit had a great stone wall erected even as the creation of the huge drum tower was beginning to form. Lysa wasn't sure what the new name would be, even if a few compared it to an eyrie so it would no longer be a pit. Lysa supposed that made sense, since everyone knew about the Storming of the Pit during the Dance era. It was why the huge structure had been abandoned for so long, even if many illegal activities had occurred within the immense cave system of the crumbled building.
The construction was constant, the distant noise heard both night and day, and Lysa would always look over when leaving the house. Even as the donkey plodded along with her and Osmund walking next to it she did the customary glance at the hill. She could see one of the dragon above it, she thought it might be the purple, before she had to focus on the cobblestone path to avoid slipping upon lingering frost. Even with dawn only just staining the sky the city was already bustling.
Down along the winding Eel alley, down towards the River Gate where the immense, sprawling stink of the fish market was they headed. The quay, having been repaired extensively in the aftermath of the Battle of the Blackwater along with the gate itself, was already thick with activity. The smell of fish was near overwhelming but she and her brother were well used to it as they approached the gaping maw of the gate. With the portcullis lingering overhead, it always reminded her of a fanged maw. City watch were lingering near with their gold cloaks and spears.
They spent most of the morning haggling and bartering and buying, long knowing which merchants would be pliable, which were hardfisted, which had stern yet fair deals and those which to avoid entirely. At one point the silver dragon flew overhead, green wings flashing like emeralds, and while many looked up just as quickly they went back to their business. If not it near all being those local to King's Landing.
At one point they passed a heavy cluster of people, all mobbed around a tall man who was waving something about in his hand with grandiose movements. He was a Summer Islander like the rest of his crew, his voice easily carrying over the crowd. Lysa tried to see but the thick throng of people made it near impossible until Osmund pulled her onto the back of their little wagon. At the slight elevation Lysa saw it was a thick bolt of silk the man was showing off; a deep blue like the ocean, having a strange sparkling shimmer to it that utterly enthralled her. Two of the crew nearby had similar bolts in their hands for the fascinated crowd to look upon, one red that shone like fire and another of white that held the lustrous hue of a fresh pearl.
"Naathi silk," she heard a woman gush nearby. Then Lysa heard the captain's price for the silk being called out and blanched, even as several of the crowd started fighting and arguing over who would buy first.
"It was shiny but I wouldn't be paying that much," Osmund grumbled. Lysa could agree, even if she liked the richer fabrics her green cotton dress was well enough.
The duo moved on, slowly making their way through the list for the following weeks supplies.
"Did ya hear?" one of the merchants, a grizzled old fishmonger, asked. "Theys sayin' the empress is gon' be arriving to King's Landing. S'why so many boats headin' in here. "
Lysa looked up from where she had put the small iced box of fish into the cart, "The empress? The Targaryen one?"
A snort, "What other is there? Aye, that one. Some sayin' theys be meeting at Dragonstone then coming in, big parade and all that. Gettin' the tourney grounds ready as well."
That made Lysa excited even as she arranged some of the boxes about; a grand tourney would mean many guests over a prolonged period, and that would mean more gold and silver for her family. With winter strengthening, they would need as much savings as they could to last the winter. Travel would be stifled immensely, guests scattered, coffers low. This was good news indeed.
They would have to raise the costs of their rooms, the food and wine, but whatever it took to survive. Osmund put a satchel of tea leaves in the wagon even as Lysa approached one of the smaller merchants. The woman, who Lysa was quite certain was blind, was smoking on her ever-present pipe with her ever-present monkey perched upon one leather-clad shoulder. Last Lysa had seen her was near eight months ago and Lysa doubted she would see her again when winter truly fell upon them.
"Anything new?" Lysa asked, looking over the surrounding tables and boxes.
"From Yi Ti," the old woman said said, tugging a pouch from the satchel at her hip. "Call it coffee, made from beans. Brew it in hot water, then strain it through."
Lysa took one whiff of the small bag and its contents that looked like dirt, and nearly gagged. It reeked like poison or food gone bad.
"Acquired taste then," the woman said, grin crooked with the pipe still clenched tight. "Got fruit though, fresh plums, oranges, mango and pineapple."
"That looks like it should be attached to a weapon," Lysa said, eying the last strange fruit that looked like it was covered in yellow spiked flesh.
"Reckon they could all do some hurt, if hurled hard enough."
"Still, I'm not to buy much fruit. Getting too expensive with winter. But do you have anymore gull eggs, or lamprey?"
"Got 'em both. Usual price for you, but don't you go spreading that."
Lysa happily paid the fistful of silver, before nearly dropping the box of gull eggs when the monkey shrieked. Above them the purple dragon swept overhead, black wings flashing like ripples of midnight silk. Around upon the wharf was an eruption of noise and startled exclamations, mostly from the traders and newcomers.
The old woman bared her yellow teeth in a smile, even as one hand patted at her little monkey as it chittered anxiously, "These ones are rather cute, are they not? Ain't nothing compared to the empress's beast, giant monster that it is."
"You've see it?"
"Aye, when I had to sail past Slaver's Bay. Or Dragon's Bay, as it got renamed as. Many moons ago, when I was heading to Asshai. Thing was flying about the shipping lanes, wings sounding like thunder when it flew overhead. Could swallow these little ones in a single bite."
"Does it truly have three heads?" Lysa asked.
"It does indeed," she said. "Got two tails as well. Ain't seen it breathe lightning like they say but from what I heard of the failed assault by the slave nations that's what tore that army apart. Though I reckon you'll see it soon enough. Just don't get too close. Dragons are capricious beasts."
"I just want to look at it," Lysa said. "I don't want to go near it. If it's that large I will see it easy enough."
A laugh from the old woman, foul-smelling smoke spilling from her mouth which Lysa waved away, "Can't mistake that thing for anything else, that's for sure. Didn't see the empress though, never had easy to stay in Meereen. Did talk about her at Qarth, she shattered down that Hall of a Thousand Thrones. Walked through the rubble, only one of the thrones remained now that none dare claim for their own. They says it cursed, several others have sat upon it once the dragon empress left the city and all seven died within the week."
"I hope she doesn't curse anyone here when she visits," Lysa mused, ignoring the monkey as it tried to grab at her hair ribbon. "Would a curse even work upon the Iron Throne? Considering Maegor the Cruel died upon it and its cut many others, I would say the odd thing is cursed already."
A snort, "It's made of swords, 'course it would cut people who sat their arse upon that chair. Surprised more haven't died in its cold embrace."
Lysa frowned, leaning back as the monkey made another grab at her. Off to the side Osmund was finishing with buying a large sack of salt, heaving it up into the wagon. Off in the distance several ships were approaching across Blackwater Bay to the great wharf and a chilly breeze was tugging at her skirts. As always the air smelled of fish.
"Least dragons should help fend off the winter chill," the old woman said, leaning back as she sucked in another huff of her pipe. "Winter got colder with 'em dead, but the gods will make us pay either way."
"Will you stay in Westeros?"
"Nay, heading further back. Will visit Sothoryos for a while, I think. A vicious beauty to the Green Hell and far off when that winter comes. Still humid even there, just have to watch for the hibernating ones who leave their burrows when the ground freezes enough."
Lysa bid her farewell, even if she wrinkled her nose at what type of monsters would be awaiting at Sothoryos. A horrible place with horrible people and creatures. Lysa may only know a few of her letters, but even she knew about the stories of the Green Hell if not just through the shipdocks.
The siblings spent until noon at the market, bartering and trading as they slowly went through the list. Some things they would pass over if the price was too steep- no chestnuts or almonds this run, but triple their usual haul of squash -but on the whole they completed their haul. By the time they went back into the city, Lysa's feet held that familiar ache within the worn leather boots.
Back at their tavern, which through the back was connected to their house, they put away the produce even as their mother rattled off a list of things to do before supper. Already there were several patrons having lunch, most a variant of sister's stew but with one familiar goldcloak with his usual roasted whole duck. In the quieter months they would run at around a quarter in capacity, yet currently they were at two-thirds as there was a consistent stream of visitors who wished to see the dragons. Such guests were always welcome and with the news of the empress's incoming visit they were anticipating a much more busy time. As such they would divide some of the larger rooms into separate quarters, and would have to increase their variance in liquors. Mostly they supplied ale but with such a visit they would have to branch out to more wines.
Lysa thought that over as she helped her mother pickle several jars of beets, peppers and duck eggs. They had their usual storage cellar but behind that was a more secret, more well hidden, storage filled solely with long-life food such as pickles, salted and dried meats, and hard biscuits that could last several years. There were also more blankets, which they used to secure the corners to prevent vermin infestation when their cat was feeling lazy.
Lysa also spoke about the donkey, suggesting that mayhaps with the coming tourney combined with winter they could sell the beast and instead hitch themselves to the wagon. It would be a more slovenly task but it meant they could buy some additional supplies especially as the donkey was old and would most likely die in the coming snow and frosts. Her mother considered it, before the tavern began to pick up as the sun slid towards the horizon and Lysa was sent off to the tables to see to the customers.
For several weeks it was more or less the same. Every three days she and her brother would go to the docks and buy supplies. Sometimes they would fulfill the list their mother sent with them, sometimes not. Sometimes she was woken in the middle of the night, the sleet and hail sounding like thunder as it pelted the roof. Once she woke to the streets covered in a sheet of fine snow, that before noon had already melted away. Once it got so intensely hot she was sunburnt, her mother having to take her to the near sept for the septa to rub a slimy poultice upon her pinked flesh. The air grew colder and another blanket was added to her bed.
Once the orange dragon was sleeping upon the roof of a nearby building, long spiked tail curling down the side and nearly touching the ground. Lysa had joined the curious crowd with her father, brother and little sister. Her sister got tugged up onto their father's shoulders, where the little girl giggled and pointed at the beast.
Then there had been a scramble as the sharp peel of a whistle sounded several streets away, with the dragon rousing then taking flight with a flash of its brilliant blue wings. She later heard the king had come down under heavy escort, to call his dragon away from the curious crowds. The aerie was not yet finished, would not be for some time, but usually the dragons slept within the already build curtain walls. Lysa really didn't know as the rumours seemed to change to whoever she spoke to, even if Sapphire told her during a wine-handover someone had gotten eaten recently by one of them.
"Serves 'em right," Sapphire had scoffed. "What right fool would go near one of them beasts? Ain't for us to know, much less touch. Dragons are the worries of kings and queens, not us folk"
Lysa agreed, she could barely handle their cat when it was in a mood. She did not know how more perilous it would be if the grumpy old tom could fly and breathe fire.
Of course it was not just the three, and nearly two months later she saw the other.
It was when she and her family had finished attending the devotion at the sept, upon the seventh day of the week. As custom they had brought some offerings, mostly foodstuff but also one of Lysa's grandmother's blankets. The sept was modest, with only one great tapestry depicting the Seven Pointed Star and wooden carvings of the Seven, and the pews were hard and uncomfortable. Lysa's buttocks were stiff when the septon finished speaking of the seven aspects of grace, wishing them well and pious fortunes and praying for the gods to bring in a gentle winter.
Lysa and her family had stopped at the courtyard, like many washing their hands and faces in the ancient fountain as they spoke to many familiar faces. This day when they attended the sept was a day where they always began their chores later, so Lysa would accept her stiffened muscles. Overhead the sky was thick with dark grey clouds, warning of imminent rain.
She was idly watching her little sister playing with a gaggle of fellow children when she heard distant shouts. There was also a strange rhythmic noise, like the peel of a drum which was getting increasingly louder until she heard the bell towers of the Red Keep begin to ring out. Lysa pushed away from the fountain, shaking off her wet hands as she grabbed for her sister before she looked skyward and then blanched at the giant dragon that abruptly appeared overhead through the belly of the clouds.
It was a dragon but unlike the king's this was one of a solid gleaming gold, along with having three heads and two great tails. As strange and distant from the king's dragons as they were from lizards.
It was also horrifically, terribly huge, making the dragons she had seen before look like nothing more than sparrows to an eagle.
Her grip tightened upon her sister, even as the three headed dragon descending upon them let out a trilling, warbling roar that made her teeth clench.
The noise of the dragon's wingbeats were like the roiling boom of thunder, a heavy rumbling crack with each down stroke. Lysa found herself shying back against her mother, as the dragon's huge shadow passed across them, engulfing the entire courtyard as it flew overhead like a living mountain.
"Look at the size of that beast!" Lysa heard someone say, pointing wildly as if anyone would miss it flying by.
"Reckon it could swallow a horse whole," another added.
"A horse? I'd wager an elephant."
"It got three heads, you see that? Thought those were lies."
"Is it as big as the Black Dread?" a little girl asked, tugging on her mother's skirts.
"Could be," the mother replied, head craned back and eyes squinted.
"Ain't got nobody on its back," Lysa's father commented.
She tried to get a good look at the dragon as it continued flying overhead towards the Red Keep but from afar she could not see much. Still, it seemed all golden scales and golden wings, with no hint of a saddle.
"What is it doing here, then? If it isn't being ridden," Lysa asked.
"Mayhaps it smelled the other dragons," her mother suggested.
"Or it flew from Dragonstone," her father added. "The royal retinue left to there some days back, didn't they?"
All too soon the huge golden dragon passed and she lost sight of it as it continued to fly across the city, even if the loud rumbles of its wings could be easily heard.
Around them, the crowd was a mixture of awe and fright, words a swift babble of rumours and questions until she didn't know what to think. The distant toll of bells were mixed with the thunderclap of wings.
Lysa however, knew the gigantic golden dragon meant one thing for certain. The Targaryen Empress had reached Westeros.
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