With the Gravity Falls renaissance happening right now, my brain created something by mashing an old hyper fixation with a new hyper fixation
House of the Dragon dir Alex Hirsch
We follow Maester Gyldayn on his research for Fire and Blood.
He just ended gathering information for the first third of the book (The conquest to Alysanne and Jaehaerys reign) and now he is gearing up for the second parte, the bloody part:
The Death of the Dragons. Time to research the dance.
We follow him through the libraries of the Citadel. Each new page has new information… but from account to account the story changes. The scene plays again for us as Gyldayn opens a new account of the same event
He is not satisfied with only the archives of the Citadel, he wants the personal records. What did the families of the people have to say? What did the people alive during the dance leave behind for their descendants?
So there goes Gyldayn. To the High Tower, to Kingslanding, to Drifmark. A small stay in Essos, some stops along the way to other lords castles, the maester’s of said castles having some tea with him as they speculate.
It’s light hearted journey for the old Maester but something… something is not right. He doesn’t know what it is but since he started the research there has been a feeling on the back of his neck. Eyes that he can’t see watching him from the dark as he sleeps.
Probably just his imagination.
Storms End, The Stepstones, The Gullet, Dragonstone.
The intensity of this fantom stare increases.
The walls whisper him things at night. There are weird symbols carved on the bed that was said to be the one Prince Daemon rested upon on his brief stay to the old ruins of Harren’s hubris.
He is plagued by hallucinations. It must be the mold on the stone, surely?!
He can’t sleep without dreaming, he can’t walk down the halls without seeing things on the corner of his eye. The small part of the man that still was superstitious, even after years of of studying to better understand the natural world, couldn’t shake the feeling that Harrenhal was truly haunted.
At least the young maiden that worked at the kitchens was kind to him in his times of confusion. She could give him sound advice as a resident of the castle. Good company despite her… eccentricities.
But he would not question her much about it. It was bound to happen, he rationalized. Sharing a name with a famous bastard while being a bastard yourself must impact ones girlhood.
What a clever but strange girl was this Alys Rivers.