Hugh Hammer (ASOIF/SI)

The tankard of ale was nearing empty, he swirled it around a few

 times and then gulped it all down, setting the vessel on the table

 before him with a thump.

 "More!" he burped, and a serving wench rushed to comply, quickly

 returning to his table with a fresh tankard, he gave the chit a rough

 fondling after she had placed his beer down, no sense in having her

 spill his drink now was there? The girl suffered his attentions with

 stoic disinterest, which made his blood boil, he cuffed the girl sharply

 around the head, shoving her off his lap and letting her fall to the

 tiled floor of the tavern.

 He ignored the girl as she scrambled up and hurried off, to the

 laughs and taunts of his men.

 His men! He let a bubbling laugh that turned into a belch out, before

 drinking deep of the ale, his men were a bunch of sell swords,

 toughs, bully boys and other assorted riff raff, but they were his kind

 of people. Not those snotty highborns who had looked down their

 noses at him all his life, and who still did, despite him riding a

 dragon!

 He had won for them a great victory and still they sneered at him,

 still they snubbed him. A Knighthood and a pissy little knight's

 holding on Driftmark after he won the battle of the Gullet for them?

 The only consolation was that Hugh had gotten similar treatment to

 him, that little shit Addam had been legitimised, and that ugly little

 cunt Nettles had gotten even less than any of them, proper order

 that, at least!

 He was a dragon rider, he should be a Lord at the very least, not this

 fucking Ser business, Ser! Fuck that, he had known Knights that

were as piss poor as any smallfolk, no he wanted a Lordship, and he

 would not be fobbed off with some insulting offer of a Landed

 Knights holding on Driftmark.

 Which technically made him a vassal of that old silver haired cunt,

 and not a direct vassal of the Queen, which he felt he should be, for

 was he not a dragon rider after all?

 After night had fallen on the day of the battle the dragons and their

 riders had flown back to Driftmark, it being closer than Dragonstone

 and all of them and their mounts were tired.

 He had been bursting to boast of his great victory, for had he not

 come across the fleet of the Three Daughters in retreat with the

 other four dragons just escorting them away in a cowardly fashion.

 Had he not burned their biggest ships to ash and torn the very heart

 out of the enemy, while the other dragons, ashamed by his display

 had cowered on the edges of the enemy fleet, picking off ships one

 by one, never venturing close, never even overflying the ships below

 them.

 For sure his dragon had taken quite a few hits from scorpion bolts

 and arrows, but the old bitch he rode was tough, and her belly scales

 absorbed the hits well enough, though her wings were torn badly.

 She was in the care of dragon healers from the staff on

 Dragonstone, and she would be well enough to fly in two or three

 moons time.

 He had left High Tide after the victory feast; he hated the place and

 the way the servants looked at him like he was dogshit on their

 shoes. And being chastised for groping a serving wench at the table,

 as if every knight or highborn he had ever known had not groped and

 fondled serving wenches at any opportunity they got!

 Instead of staying in the castle he had decamped to Spicetown and

 Ulf was determined to enjoy the fleshpots and taverns available to

 their fullest.

And stay away from that fucking cunt Hugh! Oh, how he hated that

 man now, he had known Hugh to see before, and had known him to

 be quick to anger and as stupid and bull headed as an Oxen. But

 since that big bastard had tamed a dragon? Well, the prick strutted

 around like he was a fucking Lord. Putting on airs and graces, no

 longer consorting with his old companions or friends, even spending

 time in the library on Dragonstone reading by the Gods! Reading, as

 if! Hugh had not a word of his letters to his knowledge, and he was

 reading now? Like some fucking Maester?

 And to cap it all Hugh had constantly tried to belittle his great victory,

 trying to accuse him of using 'dangerous tactics' - whatever the fuck

 that meant. He flew a dragon, dragons breathed fire, it was not very

 complicated. A dragon was like a horse, you broke it and showed it

 the whip when needed and it obeyed you, like a woman. Bigger than

 a horse it was true, and it could fly, but a beast like a horse

 nonetheless, to be ridden to war, and he suspected as stupid as a

 horse. All this nonsense that Hugh was spouting about how to fly the

 dragons and to 'bond' with them, what a load of horseshit! Dragons

 knew what to do, Silverwing did not need him to tell her what to do

 when he had dived out of the sun, she had known exactly what to

 do!

 The Targs were feared and obeyed because they could ride dragons,

 and he wanted to be feared, and more importantly he wanted to be

 obeyed. His whole life he had taken orders from others, now he

 wanted to be the one giving them.

 Taking another long pull of ale his mood was made instantly sourer

 when Hugh stepped into the tavern, accompanied by ten

 Dragonstone Men at Arms, some of them former comrades of his he

 noticed. None of them friends of his either, hard and tough no

 nonsense bastards with little or no sense of joy or adventure, and not

 likely to be easily lured with the promise of gold.

 His men, sensing the immediate danger, stood up but Hugh and his

 escort drew their arms, Hugh was wearing his trademark scale

brigandine, the Men at Arms were clad in mail shirts and sported

 helmets and shields.

 The handful of other patrons in the establishment scattered and fled,

 moving like water around rocks, hurriedly exiting by either the front

 door, or scampering out the back.

 "You boys" Hugh said, nodding his head to Ulf's men "better clear on

 out of the way now…"

 And after a few heartbeats the men he had paid good coin to, who

 he had thought would protect him, melted away, none having the

 common decency to even look ashamed.

 Hugh sheathed his sword and sat down opposite him, the man's

 physical presence threatening, making Ulf whish he was somewhere

 else, anywhere else.

 "We are flying back to Dragonstone tomorrow, the Queen wants to

 congratulate us on our victory over the Three Daughters, she also

 wants her dragons back on Dragonstone, can't say that I blame

 her…"

 "Ummmhhh…" Ulf replied, but before he could say anything else

 Hugh cut in "Oh, I forgot, you cannot fly back with us to Dragonstone

 as Silverwing is too wounded to fly….."

 "Yes, I'm, I'm taking care of her here on Driftmark" he stuttered,

 trying to regain some semblance of control of the conversation.

 "You couldn't take care of a wet dream you useless little shit!" hissed

 Hugh, a hand darting out to grab him by the neck "you nearly got

 Silverwing killed you stupid fuck, and you completely ignored every

 piece of advice and training that we practised before the battle!"

 "Fuck you!" Ulf spat, despite the increasing pressure on his neck that

 this brought, satisfied at least that his spittle reached the former

 blacksmith's face. "I won the battle, I won it! Not you and your

'tactics', more like cowardice! I sank the biggest ships, I broke their

 formation, I won, I won!" these last words chocked out as Hugh's

 hand tightened like a vice around his windpipe.

 "You won nothing, they were already broken and fleeing, all you did

 was lose us a dragon for the next three moons you stupid cunt!"

 At this Hugh released him and shoved Ulf backwards, he slammed

 into the back of the bench and lolled there, massaging his throat,

 realizing that Hugh was not here to kill him, only to shout and scream

 at him. Like he would take any notice of him, just like before he had

 let the pretensions of the former blacksmith wash over him, he would

 do the same now.

 "We have been given a great opportunity here Ulf, our blood allows

 us to ride the beasts that conquered Westeros for the Targaryen's,

 and I intend to ride that advantage as hard as I can. And your

 behaviour reflects badly on us dragonseeds in general, and on me in

 particular, and I don't like that Ulf, I don't like that one bit."

 "You are a Knight, same as me!" Ulf spat "knighted and given some

 pissant little holding on Driftmark, what fucking 'advantage' do you

 speak of!"

 "How many gold dragons did Lord Velaryon advance you Ulf, the

 income of your lands last year?"

 "623 Gold Dragons" he replied sullenly.

 "That is 619 more Gold Dragons than you would see in a year Ulf,

 and its more than my lands, which totalled 596 Gold Dragons last

 year. And what have you done with your newfound wealth Ulf?"

 When Ulf refused to meet Hugh's eyes the man let out a bitter laugh

 "as I suspected, mostly spent already, on wine, women and song no

 doubt….."

"Fuck you! I should be a Lord! Not some fucking knight of a few

 acres! A Lord, a fucking Lord! I ride a dragon, a fucking dragon!"

 "Aye, just like me, just like Nettles…."

 "Fuck that brown cunt! They spat on us Hugh; can't you see that?

 Spat on us, sneered at us, they all but hold their noses in our

 presence! Fuck them, fuck the lot of them!"

 "Aye, they have not granted what we probably deserve, I will give

 you that" replied Hugh, catching Ulf completely by surprise.

 "Erh, then… what… I mean" Ulf stammered to make a reply, but

 Hugh continued, cutting over him.

 "What did you expect, Highgarden handed to you on a platter? Even

 for them to knight us and give us lands, however small is a massive

 matter for our so called 'betters'. But it's just a start Ulf, this is where

 it begins, not where it ends, do you think our Queen looks like the

 merciful type? Or her husband?"

 "No….no?" Ulf replied.

 "When this war is won by the Blacks there will be many Great

 Houses that will have fought with the Greens that will have to be

 dealt with, and do you think for one second that they will be allowed

 to bend the knee without consequences? Some may be allowed to

 join the Nights Watch, some may be pardoned, but more than a few

 will be attained. And who will get those lands do you think?"

 "Not us!" he replied, vehemence straining his voice.

 "Wrong lad, wrong. We will be in possession of two dragons, and we

 will have greatly contributed to their winning of the war, for there will

 be many battles still to come. And how would the Queen reward the

 men who gave her back her throne, who fly the great beasts of war

 that are the symbol of her house? By letting them spend their days

 as obscure landed knights on Driftmark? No, she would like then

near at hand, suitably ensconced and rewarded with land and

 castles close to Kings Landing."

 Ulf took a long sip of his ale and contemplated what Hugh had to

 say, and the more he thought about it the more he realised that the

 former blacksmith was an idiot, they would never be gifted great

 castles or extensive lands. Gifted no, but taken, demanded?

 Mayhaps, mayhaps indeed… might it not be such a bad thing that

 Silverwing was wounded and would take no part in the battles of the

 next few moons? For the first time the dragons had danced it had

 resulted in both sides losing a dragon, and who was to say that the

 next time they danced each side would not lose more dragons?

 And with each dragon that fell his worth and the worth of his dragon

 was sure to rise. This place Highgarden that Hugh had mentioned,

 he had heard of it in passing, he must make more enquires about it.