Playing the Game (Game of Thrones)

In the end, despite the feeling in his gut egging him onward… Jon stops. He is, at the end of the day, his own man after all. Yes, these feelings he gets, these urges… they certainly have helped him so far. He’s gotten where he is today by following them, quite literally in fact. Without them, he wouldn’t even have this chance to ransack the Golden Fleet in the first place.
 
All the same, Jon wouldn’t have gotten where he was today by not having his own mind, his own voice. He’s the one who decides, not some mysterious feeling in the back of his head, in the depths of his gut. And so, when choosing between pushing on and checking out the long-lost Golden Fleet of King Tommen II, Jon knows what he wants to do… and he does it.
 
“Get everyone off of the boats and make sure they all get fed quickly. In the meantime, I ask that a squad of men follow me as I check out that massive ship in the harbor. Only volunteers if you please, it will likely be a treacherous venture.”
 
His words are taken with the seriousness that he intends them, though some of the men who hear him do huff a bit. Yes, the massive ship that just has to be the Flagship of King Tommen the Second is half sunk into the water, and likely very dangerous to traverse. But at the same time, they’d all just gotten done fighting a fucking Kraken in the middle of the Smoking Sea. In comparison, traversing a half-sunken ship from hundreds of years ago is… child’s play.
 
In the end, he has more volunteers then he knows what to do with, especially since the Unsullied know no fear and have only the desire to keep him safe from harm until they can reunite him with his wife and their Mistress. The respect that Dany commands from the Unsullied is rather intense. Jon is just glad that they’re on their side now.
 
They’re not just capable soldiers, but capable men in general. He shudders to think of what would have happened if he’d only had Dothraki to crew the ships that had brought him to the shores of Old Valyria. The journey probably wouldn’t have happened in the first place, in all honesty.
 
As such, in the end, Jon’s entire squad of volunteers ends up being handpicked Unsullied. Some of his Dothraki DO volunteer, of course, but Jon can tell from their eyes that they only do it out of a sense of bravado, or perhaps even duty. Not a single one of them WANTS to step foot on another ship quite so soon, and especially not one as decayed as the massive half-sunken vessel that dominates the harbor.
 
So, Jon spares them by only taking Unsullied and though the Dothraki make a show of grumbling over it, he knows the truth, that they’re all too happy to be left behind.
 
As expected, traversing the flagship is both difficult and dangerous. Honestly, it makes Jon appreciate the fact that he’d had them boat across the Smoking Sea, rather than flying here on the back of his dragons. Not only was he not certain the ship was capable of even supporting the weight of one of his dragons in it’s current state, but the trip across, fraught with peril as it had been, had nevertheless given Jon back some of the sea legs he’d only first earned on his trip from White Harbor to Braavos so very long ago.
 
After months of travel on horseback across plains and arid barren lands, Jon had needed the trip to re-familiarize himself with sea travel. It helps him now to traverse King Tommen’s flagship, which he’s becoming more and more sure of the identity of as they continue on. Not only is the construction of the ship ornate and ostentatious, but as they get closer to it, as they climb aboard and begin moving through it’s rickety halls… the lion motif is undeniable.
 
This right here is indeed the Golden Fleet that Jon remembered from his childhood stories. A tale meant to turn young boys off to the idea of adventure, one meant to make the young Lord Robb realize that his place as a nobleman was with his people, in the North. King Tommen had set sail looking for glory and riches… and in the end, what he’d done instead was very nearly beggar the Lannisters, as well as leave his wife a widow and his son a Lord far too soon.
 
It was certainly a cautionary tale, though not one that had ever truly been directed at Jon. After all, bastard that he was, they probably thought it better if he went on adventure. Perhaps that was why Jon had always liked King Tommen’s tale. Though it was obvious to him now that the ancient Lion King had bit off far, FAR more than he could chew.
 
It takes time, a lot of time in fact, and there are one or two close calls where a rotted board snaps and nearly sends someone into the depths of the harbor. Given what they faced just getting here, Jon doesn’t want to know what lives under the water of the port. Luckily, the Unsullied are all quick on their feet. No one falls in, not even Jon, who finds himself grabbed by two different hands the one time he very nearly slips.
 
But eventually, they find it. The Captain’s Quarters. Or perhaps, more accurately given just how large they are, the King’s Chambers. There’s no doubt in Jon’s mind as he looks around at what was once likely a truly gorgeous room, that this is where King Tommen stayed on his voyage to Old Valyria. The massive bed on one side of the room is in shambles, and everything is covered in mold and rot that has Jon worrying for their lungs, but at the same time… this is a King’s room.
 
Making his way over to the desk, Jon isn’t sure what he’ll find. The desk itself is half-rotted at this point, so many years having passed since. There’s no sign of the sword that Jon had initially sought when he came here, unfortunately, not near the desk nor anywhere else throughout the room. Brightroar, as it stands, remains lost for the time being.
 
However, to Jon’s mild astonishment and interest, when he slides open one of the less rotted drawers, there amidst the equally rotted unprotected papers… is a message in a bottle. Or at least, a paper in a bottle. Protected from the elements, the scroll of paper catches Jon’s eye and he quickly uncorks the bottle, unable to help himself. He’s always been naturally curious… and how can he not be, all things considered? This right here… these just might be the last writings of King Tommen II in existence.
 
Pulling the paper out, he unravels it, dragging it taut and reading it with extreme interest. His eyes dart back and forth across the page as he reads the words of a Lion King dead for over three hundred years.
 
We should never have come here. I… I should never have come here. The men were right. My advisors were right. It’s unfortunate that I’ve only come to accept that in the wake of the latest round of executions, long after I’ve killed them all for daring to disagree with me.
 
If you are reading this, then you read the final words of King Tommen II Lannister, King of the Rock, Lion King. If this is my son… I am sorry. Turn back now, before this accursed place swallows you up as it has me. Hopefully, my son has been smarter than I was. Hopefully this message has been found by someone else. But even then, heed my words… and turn back.
 
Valyria is not meant for you, just as it was not meant for me. The land is alive, it’s teeth and claws deadly in their temperament. What it waits for, I do not know, but I do know this. It has bled me and my men dry of every last bit of resources we brought to this place. And for what? Crates of Valyrian Steel sit in the holds of my ship, but I dare not try to return home. We need supplies to make such a voyage, but the land is barren of food, of succor.
 
To say nothing of the creatures that patrol the waters around Old Valyria. If we are to return home, then we must push on. There must be some way to control them. The Valyrian Freehold was a land of magic, of power. It was the realm of dragons and dragon riders! If we can just make it into Valyria’s inner sanctums, then perhaps… perhaps.
 
For now, the gates hold us back. We’ve broken down what feels like a dozen of the damn things, and yet there are still more defenses, more walls, more traps. My men die by the day, either to the traps or at the hands of my headsmen for daring to speak treason, for thinking of deserting now instead of continuing forward. And yet, even my headsmen begin to hesitate before they swing their axes. I wonder how much longer they will obey my commands.
 
I go now to the next gate. I will lead from the front, and show my men that I am not so craven as to remain on this ship and wait for them to bring me more riches, more glory. I will pray that this gate is the last, that what we are looking for is on the other side. If it is, I imagine I will return in triumph, and this message will be destroyed, never to see the light of day.
 
But if not, then let this message act as a warning to you, good ser. Whoever reads this, turn back now, while you still can. You know not the horrors that await you if you don’t.
 
~ King Tommen II Lannister, King of the Rock
 
He reads and re-reads the note what feels like a half a dozen times. It’s… both terrifying and heady in it’s implications. In the end, when one of his Unsullied tells him that it’s probably not safe to stay aboard the rotting vessel any longer, Jon lets them pull him off of it in a daze, his head swimming as he considers all that this ancient Lion King has said.
 
Is it a surprise, that a King turned out to be a tyrant? No, not really, not in Jon’s eyes. After all, he’d been born in the wake of a tyrant, his grandfather Aerys, being removed from the throne. Looking back on his journey to this point, the number of tyrants that he’d beheld, that he’d had to fight and even kill, were too many to count.
 
It was more surprising that King Tommen had apparently had enough decency in him to realize at the end of his life what mistakes he’d made. Like he’d said in the letter, the realization came too late to matter, but all the same.
 
And then there was the warning inherent in the ancient King’s writing. Danger awaited them ahead. Given the journey here in the first place, Jon could easily and readily accept that. Danger had plagued their path the entire way here, and that the heart of Old Valyria would be just as dangerous… it was honestly unsurprising.
 
All that talk about gates though… from what he’d seen so far, and what he’d been told, Jon had always assumed Valyria to be a crater, blown apart by whatever had destroyed the Freehold so many years ago. But then… what was this about gates? Had something locked itself up nice and tight after the Valyrians blew themselves to kingdom come?
 
Shuddering, Jon’s eyes trace over the letter once more. He’s read it what feels like dozens of times, by the time dinner arrives. He keeps reading it then, holding it in his hand as he eats rather mechanically with his fork. He reads it, and he considers.
 
He’s come so far. Too far to turn back now… right? That’s what the feeling driving him forward would like him to think, certainly. But what if that feeling was a trap? What if Jon wasn’t… wasn’t worthy, or whatever, just like King Tommen hadn’t been?
 
His lips thin out as he considers his options. The ancient King who’d written this missive hadn’t thought that turning back was a choice for him any longer. But that probably had to do with the executions, with the lack of provisions. King Tommen couldn’t try to go home, because he didn’t have the men to crew his ships left to him, and even if he did, the Krakens would likely come for him.
 
Jon… Jon could still turn back. He could still return across the Smoking Sea and put this endeavor behind him as a foolish lost cause. They had the provisions for the return trip after all, and they’d killed one Kraken. His men were blooded now, they could handle another if it came to that.
 
But could he really turn back? After all of this? Could he really just… leave this behind? Or rather… could he afford not to? Could he afford to risk his men, his people who had followed him this far, on whatever horrors lay ahead? Would he be as cold and callous as the ancient King Tommen and spend the lives of his Dothraki and Unsullied to break down whatever gates remained between him and his goal?
 
… Perhaps there was a third option. The most dangerous option of all, to be sure, but an option all the same. He could… he could go on alone. Traversing the Smoking Sea on boats instead of dragon back felt like it had been the right decision in spite of the Kraken attack that they’d suffered. But now… now Jon wondered if this might be where he should part ways with his men.
 
This land is not meant for you, just as it was not meant for me.
 
Jon’s eyes keep straying back to those words. A warning, to be sure, and a clear one at that. But what if King Tommen II was wrong? What if this land WAS meant for Jon? What if whatever was drawing him here had been waiting all this time for him? What if… he could just walk right in?
 
A dangerous idea, to be sure, but one that Jon nevertheless found himself thinking about. The safer option would be to bring his men with him, true. Safer even that would be to turn back and give up on this whole foolish endeavor. But Jon… Jon wasn’t the Khal of Khals because he took the safe option, now was he?

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