"Do you want to learn how to fight?" he asked the girl.
"Yes, Prince, please," said Serena Martell.
It was the first time she had approached him to ask him for something. He had made sure she had the best possible living conditions; he wanted to ease her pain a little.
"It's a little surprising that you don't know how to fight; your sisters are renowned warriors." The sand snakes were lethal and, despite their gender, were not to be taken lightly. "I didn't think your father wouldn't allow you to train."
"Father always let us choose. Because of my mother's words, I decided not to learn," she said. Her face was a mask of stone. "Because of my mother's words, I decided to remain silent," she added at the end, her voice unchanging.
"What weapon do you want to use?" He would not deny her request; he had no reason to.
"A three-section staff. That's what your weapon is called, right?" she said.
Jaehaerys' white eyebrows rose. No one had ever asked him to teach them how to fight directly. Although his weapon was imposing, once they tried to lift it and realized that one nasty blow would break their jaw, they discarded any attempt to use it.
They were both in the prince's manor. A Dornish soldier stood at the door, guarding against any indecent acts. Although he didn't seem to care much about the princess's chastity, probably no one in Dorne would care.
"Come, take it," he pointed to his weapon with his index finger. It hung on the wall, the whole staff beside it, and a giant axe accompanying them. Although Jaehaerys planned to make something like a sword breaker, adding a new weapon to his arsenal.
"It's heavy," the girl could barely carry it, making a considerable effort. She had never trained her body before, so it was no surprise.
"Choose another weapon," he said.
She looked at the weapon with a frown.
"No. I want to learn how to use it," she remained stubborn.
"You can't even lift it. Most men can't use it," he said, wanting to spare her feelings.
"I'm not a man," she replied.
"And you're not me either," he replied.
"Why are you so strong? Is it true that the gods blessed you?" she asked curiously.
"I don't know," his words were honest.
When he regained his memories, he only remembered the way he died. It was a rather silly death, actually.
It was in college. He was pursuing her umpteenth degree and planned to drop out at the end of that semester. Microbiology was boring.
You'd think the most dangerous thing in a microbiology lab would be the bacteria you work with, right? However, in reality, there was something else that posed a greater danger.
An autoclave. It's essentially a pressure cooker used to sterilize the materials you'll be working with. If it builds up enough pressure, it can explode.
That was precisely what happened that day. The lid flew off, and he barely had time to turn his head to see a piece of metal flying toward his head.
After that, his vision was blurred and his senses dulled. He was a baby again.
He didn't know why he was reincarnated. It was over the years that he discovered he was... better than an ordinary man. Faster, stronger, smarter. His strength was not logical in any way. Not even the fastest sprinters in his previous life ran as fast as he did, and the strongest men couldn't hold a candle to him.
"And... can't it be lighter?" asked the girl.
Altair thought about it. Initially, a three-section staff weighed much less. It was made of wood, not metal, and weighed about three pounds.
Although he thought it would be a hassle to teach her personally.
"It can be fixed," he agreed. He had tried to teach Daenerys how to use a weapon other than a dagger, but the princess didn't want to. He taught her to use a dagger as well as he could, but it was never a bad idea to know how to use a weapon.
If he taught someone else, a woman, his wife would probably ask him to teach her, too.
"Thank you, Prince," the girl curtsied prettily.
The only good thing she inherited from her mother was her manners. Cersei really took pains to make her daughter a perfect princess, in every sense of the word.
"First, you will learn to wield a wooden staff," he began.
He had a three-section staff forged at the beginning, only to learn that it was actually too difficult to imitate Toji.
So, he first learned to use a staff, then nunchucks, and finally the three-section staff, known in Japanese as Sansetsukon.
He was mainly self-taught; beyond a few videos he had seen, he knew very little about the subject. Perhaps if he had lived longer, he would have enrolled in a martial arts school to learn it.
Leaving his career behind once again, he was already quite good at wasting his life.
'Not this one', he said to himself.
"Why?" asked the girl.
"You need it. After learning from the staff, you will progress to a two-section staff, and then you will be able to use the three-section staff. I must warn you, it is a weapon that can hurt you," she looked at him, blinking rapidly.
"Pain?" she asked rhetorically.
He took a deep breath.
'I suppose few things are more painful than being abused by your family, even having your own mother as your brother's accomplice,' thought the prince.
"I'll have one for you soon. I'll ask you to familiarize yourself with it," the prince dismissed her with those words.
She seemed to understand. She bowed and left.
'A broken doll,' he thought. 'At least she wanted to do something on her own now, ' before she was doing nothing, just existing.
In a way, he could identify with her. In his previous life...
"My prince," a knight arrived to deliver a message.
When Jaehaerys allowed him to enter, he immediately knelt.
"Speak, Ser," the prince poured him a glass of water out of courtesy. The man had come running.
It was unusual for someone of higher status to do such a thing. Some would say it was unseemly, but the man looked at him with gratitude and devotion. He was a follower of the Seven, but not even the weirwood could dent his loyalty to Jaehaerys.
"Brandon, Brandon has returned, thousands of men have been spotted, your blazon stands among them," said the man. He added no titles, though Jaehaerys would make Brandon a lord at some point.
"When will they arrive?" asked Jaehaerys.
"Tomorrow before noon," the man replied quickly.
"Drink," Jaehaerys handed him the cup. The man looked at him, about to refuse, but something in the prince's posture made him obey.
He drank the water slowly, not wanting to risk choking in front of the prince, which would be the shame of his life.
Jaehaerys offered him his hand to help him stand up.
"Your name was Symon, wasn't it?" The man opened his eyes wide and stood still when he was recognized. Not even in his wildest dreams did he think that the prince would remember a knight errant like him.
Jaehaerys helped him to his feet with ease.
"Yes, my pin- my prince, your highness, forgive me," the man bowed his head.
"It is satisfying to have good men in ArgentStone," said the prince, patting the man on the shoulder. "Can you spread the word about Brandon's arrival?" he asked.
"Y-Yes!" the man almost shouted in front of him. "I will, my prince," he left the room so quickly that even the soldier, who was guarding outside, was startled.
'A real army,' he thought with a smile.
Infantry. He still had to get archers and horsemen. He wondered if the Unsullied could ride horses or shoot bows; if so, they would be incredibly versatile.
He had never heard of such activities being carried out by the army of eunuchs, but he would have time to find out.
Before, he would have been afraid to bring such a large army of slaves into Westeros, but now he had brought slaves into his castle. Few lords rose against him.
Most sought to ingratiate themselves, flattering him for freeing the slaves from the clutches of the Essosi.
He was initially concerned about the red priests, but it was possible that R'hllor could not see inside his castle. Jaehaerys had done everything possible to ensure that this was the case. It was also possible that the god wanted the army to fall into Daenerys's hands, as in the canon.
Either way, it didn't matter; the Unsullied were at his gates.