Edric Baratheon is the Prince of the Iron Throne, formerly a maester of the Citadel before having his vow released from him by the King, his brother, Alesander I Baratheon. Having been born with a uselessly deformed hand, he later cut it off in favor of wearing an iron hand.
Appearance[]
Edric, as the crew of The Gentleman's Bastard often jokes, took from his mother and father both. His mother gave him his green eyes and his dark hair, but his father granted him a deformed hand and such superb skills at scarring. His paranoia and fear of others’ opinions of his outside appearance forces him to hide the scars he gained with various articles of clothing - high collars around a gnarled, pale mark that wraps around his neck, a black glove over the five crescent marks on the palms of his hands, a strand of hair to cover the slight, barely noticeable mark just over his ear - but even after he hides them, he’s never quite content. Even his deformed hand, an imperfection in his eyes, was later cut off and replaced with a hand made of iron. He stands at a height of 5'9", small for a Baratheon, but good enough for a maester.
History[]
Conceived in the sort of drunken laughter found only in a couple who’d just realized their love for each other after a decade of hatred and loathing, Edric Baratheon, Prince of the Iron Throne was later born on the year of 352 in a fit of disappointment, death by childbirth, and threats of infanticide - a perfectly formed boy, all except for his right hand, twisted and withered like the roots of a tree, with one finger flopping out the end. With his mother Queen Leslyn dead, and his father King Beric in a depressed rage, he was shoved into the darkest, dampest corner of the Red Keep as the castle went into a long, deep mourning, never showing a sign of complaint. After all: in the pitiless streets of King's Landing, it's best if you hoard what mercy you're given.
From birth to the age of nine, Edric continued lingering in silence, taking whatever beatings his father gave to him as the man slowly and torturously descended into the despondent state of a drunkard, losing the wit, intelligence, and confidence he had been known for only a few years prior. As the years passed, things grew worse, especially with the War of the Burning Brand. The King himself was nothing more, a heroic figure held up on the stilts of the Small Council, fallen to an abusive, incompetent leader when the stilts were swept out from beneath his feet. Half the time, if he could manage to get to the throne in the morning, he'd insult most, curse loudly at the complaints of some, and blatantly ignore the select few who dared defy him openly in court. If he couldn't, he was found in his chambers with a glass of wine to his lips, drowning in self-pity, his own ego, and a copious number of past failures that he'd not yet forgotten for fear that letting go of his grasp over them would be his end. The irony was: holding to them so tightly broke them as well as himself.
In 361 AC, fear and paranoia drove Beric I Baratheon, King of the Iron Throne to the battlements of Maegor's Holdfast, standing tall and fearless over the roar of the waves crashing against the jagged rock below. Those sentimental enough would have called it bravery, but Edric prefers to refer to it as cowardice. When the day dawned afterwards, his corpse was found bloated, lifeless, and pale by the docks, dragged through the streets of King's Landing, bundled in a cloak just as white as his colorless skin. His funeral was as eventful as an old man's shit, with his sons Alesander, Richard, and Edric barely weeping one tear. No one had liked their King near his end, and none present bothered to conjure tears by remembering his glorious past.
With their father dead, the three brothers left of House Baratheon separated more than they had even prior, drawing lines and borders between themselves as if it was a battlefield. Alesander was crowned as King Alesander I Baratheon, First of His Name, King on the Iron Throne, Richard grew jealous, gaining no power of his own, and Edric, still a solemn, quiet boy, requested that he be given a maester's training in exchange for a Prince's finery, no longer held down by his father.
They sent him on a ship bearing not a single sign of House Baratheon's sigil, prompting Edric (who realized that this precaution had been made in an attempt to show that the deformed, useless brother had no right to wear the Baratheon name) to make his first words at the Citadel: "I am Prince Edric of House Baratheon, and I am here for dinner." This announcement was met with a rush of servants, maesters, and archmaesters as he was informed that he'd be serving as an apprentice to Archmaester Argrave, and would indeed be receiving a good supper.
As a novice apprenticed to an archmaester whose first words to him had been, "You could have been left out on a rock to die at your birth, you petulant child," Edric had expected far worse. He'd been surprised that he'd been able to exchange his beatings from his previous life for mere criticisms in the Citadel, even more surprised when he'd managed to forge six links in one year, and the most surprised of all when he'd been made a maester at the young age of sixteen, with six years at the Citadel under his belt and a glinting chain of metals around his neck. His first two years had been spent wallowing in his own self-pity, his third had been throwing away that self-pity because of its uselessness, and his last three years were spent confidently befriending all those he could manage to befriend - notably Gareth Tyrell and the younger members of his crew - making up for his past mistakes in that regard, and sprinting around the docks shouting like a madman for information and stories from other places to satiate a dream he'd developed of traveling the world, visiting every charted place on a map.
Edric's iron hand, engineered by himself.
In his last two years at the Citadel, he only managed to climb higher. At the age of seventeen, he was invited as the youngest member of the Order of Prince Peremore, a prestigious group of only the most accomplished maesters, awarded by invitation. Just as he'd thrown away self-pity during his first climb to success, with this, he threw away his deformed hand. He chopped it off himself, his regular hand balled into a fist, fingernails digging into his palm hard enough to draw blood, forming tiny crescent scars. And when it was done, rather than forge new links to his chain, he forged a new hand crafted from black iron for his stump. During this time, he was also invited to dinner with Leyton Hightower, Lord of Oldtown.
At the age of eighteen, rumors began circling about that he might be made the new Archmaester of Warcraft after Archmaester Argrave's death, though he'd not been alerted to this prior to these rumors, causing him to dismiss them with a wave of his new hand. He continued his daily routine, serving as a scientist, researcher of history, and adviser to his former master rather than being sent to a castle, up until the day he received the first letter he'd ever gotten from his brother, Alesander.
It came fast, like death, merciless in a way that few could describe, sweeping him squealing off of his feet. It was an order, not a request, releasing him of his vows of a maester and forcing him to return to the home he'd so loathed as a child: King's Landing. His brother gave him no significant reasoning, only that he had to return then, making it in time for the Grand Tournament. And so, stoically, he began preparing to leave. His ship, which he'd named The Gentleman's Bastard, was loaded with his things, while he forced the maester's chain from his neck, took it to a smith, and had it reforged. Nearly every link on his chain was turned into either a trinket or something useful, something to wear on him as a reassuring weight so he could get through the times that would be coming, most notably the Valyrian Steel link, which he wears as a ring on his right ear. And just as it had been at the age of ten, he left his new home, shoved into a new position through unfortunate circumstances.
Recent Events[]
Timeline[]
- 352 AC: Edric Baratheon is born to Beric I Baratheon and Leslyn Baratheon, killing his mother to come into this world. His father becomes depressed after this event, and Edric's brother, Alesander, is rumored to be the one truly running the Kingdom as it falls into the War of the Burning Brand.
- 361 AC: Beric I Baratheon, who can't take life further, throws himself off the top of Maegor's Holdfast.
- 362 AC: Alesander Baratheon takes the throne, but Edric decides in a childish manner not to stay by his side, requesting that he be allowed to join the Citadel. He is granted his request, and he sails on a ship he later names The Gentleman's Bastard towards Oldtown as his brothers, Alesander and Richard, stay in King's Landing.
- 368 AC: Edric Baratheon takes the maester's vows, having forged his chain within a rather small six years.
- 369 AC: Edric Baratheon is invited to the Order of Prince Peremore.
- 370 AC: Edric Baratheon is released from his vows by his brother and forced to return home.
Quotes[]
| “ | It takes two hands to fight a battle, but only one to win a war. | ” |
— Edric Baratheon, often used as a lesson to acolytes and novices in the Citadel.
|
Family[]
- his great-grandfather, Renly I Baratheon, called The Victorious or sometimes The Usurper, deceased, a King on the Iron Throne who signed the Treaty of Crowns with Robb Stark, King in the North, to win the War of the Five Kings (277 AC - 310 AC)
- his great-grandmother, Margaery Baratheon nee Tyrell, Queen to Renly I Baratheon
- his grandfather, Robert II Baratheon, called Robert The Red, a King on the Iron Throne who kept his reign nice and tidy with the unniceness and untidiness of wine, feasts, and tournaments to befriend his vassals and inspire loyalty, died of the Winter Fever (301 AC - 332 AC)
- his grandmother, Marya Baratheon nee Horpe, Queen to Robert II Baratheon,
- his father, Beric I Baratheon, a man of fifty-two, called Beric the Bloody in the beginning of his reign and The Two-Copper King near the end of it after going into a drunken and despondent state due to the death of his wife, a King on the Iron Throne known at first for his ruthless victory in the War of the Exile, and then for his incompetence later in life, died after throwing himself suicidally off the battlements of Maegor's Holdfast (318 AC - 361 AC)
- his mother, Leslyn Estermont , a woman of fourty-eight, called Leslyn the Least-Liked near the beginning of her husband's reign due to his penchant for hours, but later named Leslyn the Loved after her relationship with the King grew and she became known as a kind and influential Queen, starting courtly fads, helping her husband make decisions, and holding charities for the poor, died birthing Edric Baratheon (322 AC - 352 AC)
- his brother, Alesander I Baratheon, a man of thirty, a King on the Iron Throne known for helping his father win the War of the Burning Brand and easily breaking a coup led by his brother Richard, alive (b. 340 AC)
- his brother, Richard Baratheon, a man of four and twenty, called Richard Redface for his constant anger, known for attempting a coup from which he'd become King over his brother, died of the pox and rampant alcoholism after having his coup ruined (334 AC - 352 AC)
- himself, Edric Baratheon, a man of eighteen, called Edric Crookleg for his birth, but later named "Edric Ironhand" after cutting off his deformed hand and replacing it with an iron hand, joined the Citadel, alive (b. 352 AC)