Two Awakenings
Tyrion
With cracked lips,Tyrion Lannister awoke to the bright light overhead. How the bugger did they make it? The maesters with their glass candles would kill their mothers to gain something like this.
The last thing he remembered was falling asleep in Alayaya’s arms,the night before they were to leave King’s Landing to visit the Starks. He had had lion dreams,dreams of dragons crowning stags,of white monsters riding out of the North. Then he had dreamt of a new Age of Heroes,of spires rising into the Sun and ships flying upon the face of the Moon. And then,the poem,three stanzas long,recited to him by a great voice:
The Emperor sat, proud and splendid,
with seven stars upon his brow.
Sevenfold nations worshipped him on bended
knees, on his shield there stood the Plough.
Above him gleamed, like alabaster,
the lighted lantern of the moon,
but, turning now towards his master,
the jester wept. "Don't cry, buffoon,
I've conquered every human being.
The world is mine." - But sure enough,
the Reaper carried him off, that evening,
as one removes a piece of fluff.
- We lived like despots, one and all,
and Time flew by, like April breezes.
Upon your precious blood we call:
Have mercy on our souls, Prince Jesus!
In Rheims, before the Easter service
the plague arrived, bells and the rest.
The flabby Bishop in his surplice
was first to meet the deadly guest.
"I wrote this tune for you, my father,
let's dance to it, great Monsignor.
Be pope, or be a prophet rather,
wrapped in the mists of mystic lore,
be heretic or join the friars,
burn on the stake or go to mass:
from high above, from lofty spires,
I laugh at you, self-righteous ass."
- We were all hypocrites, we all,
and Time flew by, like April breezes.
Upon your precious blood we call:
Have mercy on our souls, Prince Jesus!
The Peasant was prepared and willing,
as dusk descended from the east.
"Our life is cheap, the work is killing,
we toil and end up like a beast.
But brother Reaper, grant a favour:
you know, our soil is very poor,
so, when you take my spent cadaver,
please spread it here, it's good manure."
Death nodded: "Yes." And walked much slower,
to scatter his soul with gentle care,
as seed is scattered by the sower,
or poppies by the autumn air.
- We all return to earth, we all,
and Time just flies, like April breezes.
Upon your precious blood we call:
Have mercy on our souls, Prince Jesus!
———-
He was surprised at the identity of the man who stood in the doorway. “Uncle Gerion? I thought you were dead! What happened?”
”I do not know,nephew Tyrion. But this I can tell you. It is a long tale,but worth telling.
We found Brightroar in a cave in Valyria,beside the tomb of whom I guess was Tommen II. It was rusted and chipped,but I had seen it before in art,and my man Orson identified it easily. From there,we doubled back through the Stepstones to pay a visit at Myr. We spent a year there,growing fat and happy.
Eventually,none other than Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen came there,in the care of Connington,the old griffin Hand. He had a squire as well,a boy named Aegon Wylde. I apprenticed myself and all of our company to him. We went on a few adventures,which I will spare you the description of.
When we came to Pentos,Illyrio Mopatis,a magister of the City,sheltered us. He gave us three dragon eggs. One night,in his apparent madness,Viserys tried to hatch them. He killed himself and destroyed the eggs,but whatever happened next,there are three dragons flying the Essosi skies. The mansion blew up,and we found ourselves here. King Robert is here too. So is Aegon. So are Mace Tyrell and many others. I do not know what has happened,but I know we are safe.”
————-
Becky
Her first reaction was one of denial. She had been resting at home before her next concert,and now she was somehow in a hospital. She tested her legs. They didn’t hurt. Her arms didn’t hurt,either.
She sensed movement at the door,which was being opened. Duncan stood there.
”Wh...what happened,Dunk?”
”I don’t know,Bex. I was getting ready to go to Tommy Haskins’ place,an’ then I was with you guys,swimming in that lake. We’re at Buffalo General Hospital,if you want to know. Apparently it’s 1979.”
”1979? Dunk,do you know what that means?”
“What?”
”It means that I might have the chance-just the slightest of chances!-to nip ‘prog rock’ in the bud! Just like Ronny wanted!”
”How?”
”Simple! Just play some of the record execs a sample of 2005 music! They’ll be in love with it!”
She was consciously shouting now,sitting up in her bed. Her legs felt numb now,but sensation was returning. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her face was thinner than usual,but not worryingly so. The top of an eyebrow was missing. There was a coin-shaped bruise on her left cheek. She looked like she’d been through a bender.
Dunk didn’t look much better. His right eye was caked over with rheum. He walked with the remnant of a limp. A bruise dominated his upper lip.
Becky tried to get up,but ended up falling back on the bed. She let Dunk tuck her in,and fell back asleep within minutes.