Bound by Blood and Oaths

Chapter 57

Dragonstone

Jacaerys gazed at his left shoulder. Nothing but a stump remains. A clean cut by a blade made of ice. He never thought he would see an ice blade shatter his sword, let alone cut his arm off like it was soft clay. There are times he still thinks he has his arm. It is not coming back, though.

"My Lord," one of his knights said. Jacaerys stopped looking at the stump.

"What news of the mines? Is it true?"

"Yes, my Lord, there is plenty to be found there. We have started mining immediately. But we are unsure how to process them. This is not metal," he said. Jacaerys let a sigh leave him. Of course, it would be difficult. This is not ordinary weaponry. Who fights with glass?

"Find every sort of craftsman. All try to work it into a strong weapon. Whoever has the skills, bring them here and set them to work."

"At once, my Lord."

"Find Tysha. I need to speak with her."

The knight lowered his head, turning around to leave the room. Jacaerys let a breath leave him as he turns again to the window. The room was dark like any. Fused stone makes up all the walls and roof and floor. A dark place this is. Not much joy can be found in the atmosphere. Yet it felt welcoming; somehow, the heat of this island and keep made it feel like home.

But High Tide is where he belonged. His family may have come with him, more out of concern he might die. He may have lost an arm, yet he was assured he will live. Alyssa was not reassured and demanded to come along. He let her, as did his son and daughter. They wouldn't want to miss the opportunity to see Dragonstone. Myrcella went along as well, stating her place is by Marys. It was uncomfortable for her, her time nearing.

"M'lord," Tysha's voice announced her arrival as she stood in the open door. He has considered raising her to nobility. In the end, he did not. It was not out of unwillingness. He thought it best to keep her as she is. Tysha had no wish to be more than she is now.

'Schemers and killers and rapers,' she described the noble men and ladies in the Westerlands where she hails from. He can't blame her for believing that. 'I won't be part of that bunch," she said.

"Tysha, good. I aim to increase production of Dragonglass. To forge the weapons and arms we need. More men and their families will come here. I need you to discuss with them to see what needs to be given. Assure them that it will be done, and fair compensation will be given."

"As you wish, m'lord," she said. "May I speak about another matter, if it pleases you."

"Certainly, let it be good news, though."

"That would depend on who you ask, I suppose," she said, shifting uncomfortably on the place she stood. "It's about my daughter, Lelia."

"I see now."

"M'lord?" Tysha asked with uncertainty. The woman looked unsure of what he is implying. But somehow a bit relieved that Jacaerys didn't start to become strict. No, he was smiling a little as he turned to her.

"Rhaenys wished to speak with me later this day. I suspect it concerns the two ladies," he says, stepping to Tysha, who gave a soft nod in response. "I can't make them a married couple. No Septa or Septon will give them the rites. They may swear their vows to themselves; I will decree none will marry Rhaenys."

"By The Seven, yes, it is blasphemy to them. Perhaps the Old Gods may give their blessing. If it pleases you, of course," Tysha suggested. Her voice was soft and light when uttering the suggestion. In truth, he did not think of them much. There is no weirwood on Driftmark, and none on Dragonstone. But it could be done in front of those creepy trees.