The Stronghammer - CH - 64

Eddie walked into the grand hall of Dragonstone with an air of indifference, though he knew exactly what was about to happen. The hall was dimly lit, the flickering torches casting long shadows across the ancient Valyrian stone. King Viserys sat atop his makeshift throne, a simple but regal chair that lacked the grandeur of the Iron Throne in King’s Landing. Alicent Hightower was absent, but Otto Hightower stood to the king’s right, his calculating gaze fixed on Eddie.

To Viserys' left, the princes stood in a line—Aegon, Aemond, and Daeron. Aegon looked as if he was barely paying attention, his expression one of amusement rather than concern. Aemond, on the other hand, was clearly displeased. His fists were clenched at his sides, and his lips were pressed into a thin line. Eddie had already made his peace with this—he knew that the bond between him and Aemond had unsettled the royal court. He had heard the whispers, the talks of how a mere squire had influenced the prince too much.

"Eddie," King Viserys spoke, his voice tired but firm. "Your time in my household has been... eventful."

Eddie bowed his head slightly, a gesture of respect but without any hint of submission. "Your Grace."

The king exhaled and shifted in his seat. "When I sentenced you to a year of service to my son Aegon, it was meant as a punishment, a lesson in humility. But it seems... your presence here has stirred up concerns among my court."

Eddie said nothing, simply standing straight with his hands behind his back, waiting for the king to get to the point.

Viserys continued. "You have served three months. That is enough. You are relieved of your duties as Prince Aegon's squire, effective immediately."

The hall remained silent for a moment, the weight of the declaration settling in. It was an unspoken truth among those gathered that this was not a reward, but rather a precaution.

Prince Aemond took a step forward, unable to contain his frustration. "Father, this is unjust!"

Otto Hightower’s expression darkened, but he said nothing. The king turned his weary gaze to Aemond. "Enough, Aemond. This decision is final."

"But why?" Aemond pressed, his voice sharp. "What has he done except teach me, guide me? Am I not better for it?"

"He is not a knight," Otto interjected, stepping forward with his usual measured calm. "Nor is he a lord. He is an unknown element, and the court does not trust him."

Eddie smirked slightly, turning to Otto. "The court fears me because I do not bow and scrape like the rest of them."

Otto narrowed his eyes but did not respond.

The king sighed. "This is not about fear, but about stability. Aemond, you will learn from proper mentors—Ser Criston Cole, for one. Eddie has served his time, and now he is free to go where he pleases."

The king seeming relieved that Eddie had not made more of a scene. "You may stay in Dragonstone for a few days to make your preparations, but after that, you will leave."

As Eddie exited the hall, Aemond was quick to follow. The young prince grabbed his arm once they were out of earshot.

"This isn’t fair," Aemond hissed. "You don’t have to leave. We can—"

Eddie shook his head. "No, Aemond. If I stay, they will only grow more suspicious, and that will make things worse for you."

Aemond looked away, his jaw clenched. "It doesn’t matter. I owe you everything. Without you, I wouldn’t have Vermithor. I wouldn’t—"

"You will be king one day, Aemond," Eddie interrupted. "You need to learn when to pick your battles."

Aemond exhaled sharply but nodded. "So where will you go?"

Eddie smirked. "Oh, don’t worry about me. I have plenty of places to go."

Aemond frowned but didn’t argue. He simply extended his arm. "Then this isn’t goodbye."

Eddie clasped his forearm firmly. "No, it isn’t."

Everyone expected Eddie to be furious. Losing a position as a royal squire, especially one tied to the heir of the Iron Throne, was a disgrace by all standards. Even those who despised him in court thought he would lash out, beg to stay, or at the very least, storm off in a fit of anger. Yet, when Eddie left the throne room, he did so with a grin on his face.

The moment he stepped outside, he stretched his arms as if he had just been freed from chains. He rolled his shoulders, taking a deep breath of the salty sea air. "Finally," he muttered under his breath.

Holden Cross was waiting for him outside the great hall, leaning against a stone pillar, arms crossed over his broad chest. His gray eyes studied Eddie with a knowing smirk. "You look like a man who just got a royal pardon rather than an exile," Holden commented.

Eddie grinned. "That’s exactly what it feels like. No more dealing with Aegon’s drunken stupors, no more pointless court politics, no more playing nursemaid to spoiled princelings."

Holden chuckled. "You do realize most people would kill for the kind of influence you just walked away from, right?"

Eddie shrugged. "Let them have it. I’m not my father, Holden. I don't need to be shackled to a throne or a noble house to make a name for myself. There’s more to this world than these stiff-necked lords and their endless scheming."

As they walked down the stone steps of the castle, Eddie noticed how the castle guards and courtiers watched him closely, whispering among themselves. No doubt, they expected him to be bitter. They expected him to throw a fit, maybe even cause some trouble. But all he gave them was a cocky smirk before turning his back on them.

By the time they reached the lower courtyards, Holden nudged him. "You do realize you’ve become a bit of a mystery to them now, don’t you?"

Eddie raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

"They expected you to be furious. Losing favor in the royal family should have been a blow to your pride. Instead, you’re walking out of here as if you just won a great victory." Holden glanced around, lowering his voice. "That unsettles people. It makes them wonder if you’re playing a game they don’t understand."

Eddie chuckled. "Let them wonder. A bit of uncertainty can be a powerful tool."

Holden nodded in approval. "Spoken like a true Blackstone Legionnaire."

As they walked through the outer gates of the keep, several knights and nobles approached Holden, making him offers. The king himself had offered to keep Holden in service, along with many other lords who knew of his legendary reputation. Even Ser Criston Cole, the famed knight of the Kingsguard, had suggested Holden take up a position training the royal children.

Holden’s response to all of them had been the same. A simple shake of the head. "I go where my squire goes," he had told them.

Now, with their freedom secured, they made their way into the streets of Dragonstone’s main settlement. The town was small compared to King’s Landing, but it had its own charm. The port bustled with activity—fishermen bringing in their catches, merchants selling exotic goods from Essos, and shipbuilders working on vessels bound for Driftmark or Blackwater Bay.

They found a decent enough inn not far from the docks. It wasn’t the grandest place, but it was warm, clean, and the ale smelled strong. The moment they walked in, the innkeeper—a burly man with a thick beard—looked up and grinned.

"Haven’t seen you in years, Holden."

Holden smirked. "And here I thought I was good at sneaking around."

The man laughed, setting down a mug. "You lot are always the same. You disappear, you come back like ghosts. What’ll it be?"

"A room," Holden said, tossing a few coins onto the counter. "And a few jugs of your strongest ale."

Eddie stretched and yawned. "And food. I’m starving."

The innkeeper nodded and called to one of his servants. "Get these two something to eat. And don’t water down the ale this time."

As they settled into their new surroundings, Eddie leaned back in his chair, taking a deep swig from his tankard. "So, what now?"

Holden leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "That’s up to you, lad. You’re free now. No royal obligations, no one watching your every move. What do you want to do?"

Eddie thought for a moment before grinning. "Explore. Train. Drink. Meet interesting people. Maybe find a tourney or two to test my skills."

Holden chuckled. "Sounds like your father all over again."

Eddie smirked. "Except I have a kingdom waiting for me back home."

Holden raised his mug in a toast. "Then here’s to freedom."

Eddie clinked his mug against Holden’s. "To freedom."

Eddie had always been a wanderer. Freed from his obligations at the Red Keep and no longer bound to the whims of the royal family, he found solace in roaming the volcanic terrain of Dragonstone. He explored the high cliffs where the sea crashed violently against the blackened stone, walked through the bustling docks where smugglers whispered in hushed tones, and even ventured near the old Valyrian ruins that dotted the island.

But not everyone on Dragonstone was pleased with his presence.

Among the noble-born squires, there was a sense of resentment towards Eddie. He was a mystery to them—an outsider who carried himself like a man of power despite having no noble title. He walked with the confidence of a lord, yet he had no lands in Westeros. He spoke with authority, yet he was neither a knight nor a prince. His arrogance, as they saw it, was unacceptable.

And now, with his ties to the royal family severed, they saw an opportunity.

Eddie was making his way through one of the quieter streets of the settlement when a group of four squires stepped into his path. They wore the colors of various noble houses sworn to Dragonstone—the Velaryons, Celtigars, and Stauntons. Their leader, a tall boy named Serion Velaryon, was the first to step forward.

"Well, well, look at what we have here. The King of the Streets himself," Serion sneered.

Eddie smirked, tilting his head slightly. "And what do we have here? A bunch of boys who got bored of polishing their knights’ boots?"

The other squires laughed, but Serion’s face twisted in anger. He took another step closer, chest puffed out. "You think you’re something special, don’t you? Walking around like you own the place. No title, no name worth mentioning, yet acting like you’re above your betters."

Eddie chuckled. "My betters? Who would that be? Because I sure as hell don’t see any here."

Serion’s face turned red, and one of the other squires, a brutish lad named Osric Staunton, clenched his fists. "We don’t take kindly to bastards acting high and mighty, least of all ones that don’t know their place."

Eddie rolled his shoulders, stretching lazily. "Ah, I see. This is one of those ‘teaching a lesson’ moments, isn’t it? Well then, let’s get on with it, shall we? I’ve got places to be."

Serion’s patience snapped. "Get him!"

The first to lunge was Osric. A brawler by nature, he swung a heavy fist toward Eddie’s face. But Eddie wasn’t just a drunkard who spent his time in brothels—he was trained by Holden Cross, one of the deadliest warriors alive.

Eddie sidestepped effortlessly, grabbed Osric’s wrist, and twisted it sharply. The squire howled in pain as Eddie kicked his leg out from under him, sending him sprawling into the dirt.

The second attacker, a leaner squire named Robart Celtigar, came at Eddie with a dagger. Quick and skilled, but not quick enough. Eddie caught his wrist mid-stab, twisted it, and sent the dagger clattering to the ground before driving his knee into Robart’s gut, knocking the wind out of him.

Serion and the fourth squire hesitated.

Eddie smiled. "Come on then. You wanted this fight. At least make it entertaining."

Serion let out an enraged shout and charged forward. This time, Eddie met him head-on, ducking under a wild punch and slamming his fist into Serion’s ribs. The Velaryon boy gasped, staggering backward, but Eddie didn’t let up. He grabbed the front of Serion’s tunic, spun him around, and slammed him into the wall of a nearby building.

The last squire turned and ran.

Eddie smirked, wiping the dust off his hands. "Smartest one of the bunch."

Serion groaned, trying to push himself up. Eddie knelt down beside him and patted his cheek. "Listen to me, fish boy. I don’t know what kind of place you think this is, but I don’t bow to nobodies like you. You come at me again, and I won’t stop at bruises next time. Understand?"

Serion spat blood onto the ground but gave a weak nod.

Eddie stood up, dusted off his tunic, and turned to leave.

Holden Cross was waiting for him down the street, leaning against a post with his arms crossed. He had watched the whole thing unfold.

"You’re going to make a lot of enemies here, lad," Holden said with a smirk.

Eddie shrugged. "I already have plenty. What’s a few more?"

Holden chuckled. "Just make sure you’re ready when they come back with swords instead of fists."

Eddie grinned. "I’m always ready."

And with that, he walked away, leaving the beaten squires groaning in the dirt.