Disclaimer: This is a story based on ASOIAF Universe and all recognizable characters, plots belong to GRRM. I have no ownership to it.
Chapter 51: The Great Game VII
Ser Otto Hightower
Kingslanding
Ser Otto didn't know whether to laugh or cry as he watched the King and his grandson dismantle the High Septon like a child caught lying. He wanted to curse the incestuous spawns and wish them dead, yet he couldn't help but admire their intelligence and the skill with which they played the game of thrones. Even with his own side losing miserably, the spectacle was beautiful to behold.
Otto himself had read the new royal charter hundreds of times, yet he had never foreseen the King using its very first rule to justify his actions against the Septon—and even lay a trap for the Faith within it. Now, looking back, he finally understood why the King had insisted on a public audience rather than the private meeting the High Septon had requested.
Words and arrows, once loosed, could never be taken back—no matter what. Otto thought so as he recalled the moment the king had casually asked whether the Faith agreed with all other laws in the royal charter, and the foolish High Septon had walked right into the trap with open arms.
Otto was astonished that the king had managed to silence the Faith for almost three moons by punishing the High Septon with isolation. He could already hear the whispers among the common people—rumors of the Septon's greed and gluttony. The king had skillfully eroded almost all public support for the Faith, leaving it crippled and voiceless for now.
Otto knew that the Good King and Good Queen's reputations were sterling across the realm after decades of rule, but for the first time, he understood just how deeply those reputations had taken root among the masses. To the smallfolk, Jaehaerys the Kind could do no wrong. Otto wondered what his own grandfather and the High Septons who had made peace with Jaehaerys after Maegor's death had been thinking when they allowed the king to build such enduring reverence.
He shook his head as his gaze fell on the heir, standing there with an infuriating air of ease. Otto had once thought the most arrogant man he'd ever met was Daemon the Younger—but he had been wrong. The elder namesake's casualness and confidence were of another kind entirely. The prince was charming enough to fool most, yet Otto's sharp eye saw beneath the mask.
A prince who saw everything as a jest, and nothing as a threat. Even though every noble called it the Game of Thrones, no sane man treated it as mere play. Yet this new heir and prince approached it as if it were the grandest game of all. Otto remembered the words the prince had claimed in their first meeting.
"Oh?" "Lord Commander, thank you for your concern, ser. But you need not worry about me any longer. There is nothing and no one who can kill me in Westeros. I am powerful beyond mortal means."
Otto had scoffed then, dismissing it as madness and arrogance. Yet now, looking back, he could not shake the creeping worry that it might actually be true. When all the dragonriders except Gael and the king had departed with their messages, Otto had tried repeatedly to meet his dear friend Viserys—but the prince refused to see anyone privately. Otto observed Viserys closely, and for a man who had lost everything, he was far too calm, far too accepting, as though he truly believed nothing could change his fate now.
Otto himself had also lost everything he had worked for, yet unlike Viserys, he still sought something to grasp, some ember to rebuild from. That same spark, however, was missing entirely in both Viserys and Aemma.
After that, Otto's focus shifted to Princess Gael and Lady Lyanna Mormont. He grew curious upon realizing that Daemon's daughter spent nearly all her time with Daemon's wife. He had expected tension, resentment, or at least some mockery between them—but to his surprise, there was none. In fact, after just a single day of observation, he realized Lyanna was acting as Gael's personal guard. There was not a single moment when she was apart from the princess.
Otto might have scoffed at the idea of a woman serving as a guard—had he not personally witnessed Lyanna sparring with Kingsguard knights in the private training yard of the royal family. His suspicion was proven correct when the monstrous wolf finally entered the Red Keep.
Otto had nearly lost control of himself the first time when the beast fixed its eyes on him, as if deciding whether he might make a decent meal. He had read about the direwolves of House Stark, but no record mentioned one so massive as the black wolf before him. The creature was clearly the second guard, and any man with sense could see it. He was even more shocked to see Princess Rhaenyra curiously approaching the enormous beast—and the wolf indulging her playfully.
The lack of alarm from Viserys made Otto question his own sanity. It only deepened his desire to speak with the prince, but every attempt was met with silence. Viserys stayed locked in his chambers or occupied with council duties. For weeks, Otto sent polite requests for a meeting, and every time, he received no reply.
He grew increasingly anxious, knowing he had to accomplish something before the news from Oldtown arrived—whatever that news might be. Fortunately for House Hightower, when word finally came, it was good and Otto sighed in relief. Losing control over the Citadel and the maesters was a grave blow, but the alternative had been extinction—the complete destruction of his family line. In that light, he was content with how things had turned out in Oldtown.
During the intervening weeks, Otto became particularly interested in the ongoing trial of Prince Daemon's bard companions—traitors who had reportedly sold Daemon and Princess Gael to slavers. Even though the timeline of events seemed suspicious and too convenient, Otto was not foolish enough to voice his doubts anywhere near the Red Keep.
During this time his observation of Princess Gael had yielded fascinating results. What the entire court once dismissed as a foolish girl was, in truth, another Jaehaerys in cunning and ability. More than that, she possessed the easy charm of the Good Queen, but without her arrogance, naïveté, or softhearted folly. Her handling of Daemon's bastard child alone proved she was a long-term schemer of impressive skill.
Otto's thought broke as the court was adjourned and to his irritation, once again he could not get the attention of Prince Viserys. Time was running out and Otto's position in the court was getting more powerless day by day, turning him into a hostage in all but name, against House Hightower.
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Daemon 'The Arrogant' Targaryen
I entered my chamber in Maegor's Holdfast in the Red Keep and saw my dear wife sitting on one of the chairs in the balcony, gazing at the night sky along with the sight of kingslanding. Seeing me enter the room, Fenrir left with a huff, which made me grin as I remembered how much people hate work hours. I glanced through Fenrir's eyes for a moment and saw that he was heading toward the godswood inside the Red Keep to rest. Because the nobles and servants had seen him walking around the Red Keep for some time now and had realised he was not bothering anyone, they had almost become used to the gigantic black wolf roaming the halls at any time. Still, I was not confident enough to send him outside the Red Keep. It was not because of his safety of course, but because I did not want to deal with the panic or riot that would erupt if the masses saw a gigantic wolf among them.
"Husband," Gael said, and I could feel the happiness in her voice even though she did not look back at me.
"Gael." I nodded and stood behind the cushioned chair. I bent over the head of the chair, my face beside Gael's head and my hands lowered. Gael almost smirked because I knew she thought my hand was going towards her breasts, but I kept lowering my hand and stopped at her stomach, which surprised her greatly and made her look up at me.
I smirked and shrugged. "What? I was wondering if I could feel anything of my son."
Gael scoffed. "Do not be an idiot. We both know it is too early to feel the kicks or movements."
I still smiled as I stood straight. Picking Gael up with my hands, I moved forward and sat in the chair, making Gael sit in my lap while I hugged her from behind and slowly kissed her neck. I could smell the scent of oils from her bath, and I hugged her closer to me, making sure not to put pressure on her stomach.
"That feels wonderful," Gael said.
"Aye, it does," I replied with a deep sigh, enjoying the warmth and comfort of hugging a loved one.
"I missed you when you went away to Oldtown. More than that, I felt smothered by the constant presence of Lyanna before Fenrir reached here. With you near me, it does not feel like you are also acting as my own bodyguard," Gael whispered.
"I missed you too, Aunt Gael. Especially when it was your nasty older brother Vaegon holding me from behind when we flew," I said with a grin.
Gael snorted and giggled. "For a Targaryen, he is surprisingly afraid of heights. Anyway, tell me, did you accomplish whatever you wanted in Oldtown? I and my father do not believe it was only to protect the magical blood that made you move against the Citadel."
I was proud that my choice of wife was so perfect for me.
"You guessed correctly. The maesters moved in the shadows, and I could have easily dealt with them in the shadows too. I made a spectacle out of it when the chance dropped into my lap, and I naturally wanted to use it to the maximum."
Gael's eyes widened in surprise. "You mean to say that you did not actually know they were stealing from the crown? I thought you already knew and made your move."
I laughed in defeat. "Come on, Gael. Even though I present myself as one, I am not omniscient. To swim in time requires hard work and too much effort. I had no chance to see the maesters stealing when I was focused on trying to find other things the Grand Maesters did. The only reason I suspected anything was when the maester said the increase in tax from the North was irrelevant. Anyway, I dealt with it openly because it was easy to prove, and we finally have direct control over the Citadel."
"Ah, so that is it," Gael exclaimed. "The major motive was to bring an institution with such influence over knowledge under direct crown control."
"Aye," I replied. "I never know what the Conqueror was thinking allowing the existence of the Citadel after the conquest. The Faith was a religion, and it is hard to bring under direct control. There was no such excuse for allowing the Citadel its independence while believing the lies Hightower peddled about having no influence over it."
Gael nodded. "Still you did not do anything to Hightower as punishment. Why? I am curious to know the reason."
"To be honest, it was the lack of proof," I said with a shrug. "Then there is the fact that Lord Hightower completely cooperated with me and made everything possible. For a proud man, he knows when to bend the knee and serve faithfully. I do not want to start my introduction to the great houses by ending one for no real reason. I am sure the time will come for examples to be made."
Gael remained silent for some time, simply enjoying our presence together.
"Daemon, when are we announcing that we are with child?" Gael finally asked.
I remained silent as I thought over it. "Have you started the work regarding the orphanages and healing houses?" I asked.
"Aye," Gael said enthusiastically. "I visited the previous ones in the city with Lyanna, Fenrir, and even other guards. I have allocated funds to renovate them and acquire new buildings and even people to run them after I met them with Fenrir. I only hired the ones Fenrir approved of."
"Then we will do it after the acquisition and the start of the new buildings. People must feel that the princess is helping them and that the Gods have blessed her immediately for it. They must believe that good deeds and service bring good rewards so they will grow loyal to us. Your father has already shown the success of that method through his decades of rule. People believe that the good ruling by the King and Queen is the reason for the long peace and their nature to improve the realm so much is another reason." I said with determination.
Gael nodded in understanding, as she too knew the importance of image and reputation.
"Daemon, I just remembered something. What did your rebellious son the Mountain and your other sons say? Are they still not afraid of the Walkers and their army?" Gael asked suddenly.
I sighed tiredly with a frown. "No, they are afraid enough to work too hard to throw me off their mind and keep building defences, but not afraid enough to abandon the adventure entirely. I see them accomplishing it by the time they reach the Wall, and then I will have to follow through on my words of support."
Gael's eyes narrowed in irritation. "I still do not see why you are indulging them like this. The disrespect and rebelliousness against you is something that could be even called treason. I know you are reluctant to harm your own blood, yet allowing them beyond the Wall is very dangerous for all of us."
"You are, as usual, right, my love. It is dangerous and it is a gamble to let them go beyond the Wall. Yet I am allowing it because, to be honest, what my son the Mountain is doing is something I once envisioned doing myself sometime between the years eighty six and ninety one after the conquest. I even had an entire plan to conquer them and make use of such manpower, or at least end them all so that the Night's King's free army recruitment source would be destroyed. Yet nothing like that happened, so when my own sons wanted to do it for themselves, I wished to support them as much as possible." I explained and I was not even lying.
It was the truth, and as for the disrespect and rebelliousness from them, I simply did not care that much. My own grandfather Jaehaerys had not cared about my wild movements either when I was young, so long as my actions benefited him in the long run. As long as they do not cross certain bottom lines, I will indulge them rather than take everything seriously.
Gael's eyes widened with curiosity and a touch of wonder. "Yet you changed your mind, something that is not easy for you. Tell me, Daemon, what changed your mind?"
I closed my eyes, debating whether to tell her or not, but after a weary sigh I decided she deserved the truth.
"I was afraid, Gael." I said, my voice haunted by the things I know about the situation and how terrifying it is for all of us, "That is the plain, honest truth, I finally said with a weary sigh. I only survived the assault of the Night's King's mind and the walkers themselves because I was lucky. In all my plans, I never considered the walkers still being active like this, and when I looked over the timeline afterward, what I saw was horrifying enough. It was no coincidence the hunting party was there, Gael. Somehow, the Night's King laid that trap specifically for me, and I know that if I venture beyond the Wall again without overwhelming power, his traps will work and I will be killed. So, I scrapped the plan and avoided going beyond the Wall as much as possible."
Gael, who had only been curious at first, now looked panicked, realizing how close I had come to death and how terrifying the enemy truly was.
"But then it is easy for the Night's King to lay a trap for your sons," Gael replied in horror. "Are you using them as bait, Daemon?"
There was a clear warning in her voice, and it surprised me. She cared enough about my blood to warn even me. I ignored the sharpness of her tone and simply laughed.
"Do not get your panties twisted, my love. I am not using them as bait. I observed the situation carefully and even tried to look into the future as much as I could, pushing my abilities to the limit. This is the start of a long summer, and the Night's King is sleeping. Without his direct presence, my sons can overcome almost any trap set by the usual hunting parties of the walkers. Gael, you have only heard about the mountain's size. It is something else entirely to witness with your own eyes. That size combined with my speed, strength, and recovery is truly inhuman. Even Lyanna would only win a fight because of her unmatched speed and skill. So they are perfect as my attacking force. This is the ideal time to deal with the wildling problem one way or another, and that is why I am supporting my sons' ambition."
Gael remained silent as she processed everything.
"That is good, then," she finally said with relief. "At least you are not using them selfishly. And one more thing, husband. What about when they crown themselves King beyond the Wall? Would I have to share the position of queen and then go on to support them as well because of the terrible conditions of the land beyond the Wall?"
"Do not worry about that. I made sure they understand they must bend the knee to me and acknowledge me as Emperor if they ever become king. I know that Mountain may refuse and simply give the crown to the other three brothers before leaving for Essos. Even if they refuse to follow through, without the support of the Night's Watch or Winterfell, they cannot rule the wildlings or survive beyond the Wall. They will realize the wisdom of following me and accepting rewards rather than trying to create a doomed kingdom and losing everything they achieved with their own hands and our support."
"That is good. I do not want my husband or my son fighting their own blood in the future," Gael said. "Still, what if you are wrong in your assessment of the Night's King and he actually wakes during this summer?"
"I know that could happen. Still, this is a gamble I must make. I will keep a close eye on everything, and I am certain the four of my sons can survive until I reach them. They have the equipment they need. They cannot be ambushed because all four are wargs, and any attack would have to come directly. Also, even with thousand wights surrounding they could easily break through to run." I finished with a knowing glint in my eyes which made Gael just snort and not indulge me in asking what I meant to my disappointment.
Reach them fast enough? Gael asked in confusion. How could you do that? I know morghul is fast still I don't see him flying over the wall since Silverwing and caraxes refused.
"Reach them fast enough?" Gael asked in confusion. "How could you do that? I know Morghul is fast, but I still do not see him flying over the Wall since Silverwing and Caraxes refused."
I smirked at that. "I do not think Morghul can be stopped by the Wall's magic. And even if he is, I can always fly to Bear Island or Skagos and go around the Wall." I said with a shrug.
"That is possible?" Gael asked, as if she had suddenly grasped something obvious yet overlooked.
I just nodded and we remained silent just enjoying the moment and even the beautiful night sky.
"Gael, how is the court treating you now?" I asked curiously.
Gael smirked widely. "It is quite hilarious, love. They do not know how to treat me. Many still cannot see past their old memory of me and look at me as if I am someone else whenever I speak. In many, I can see the regret of not trying to win my hand earlier, and in many others, I can see the regret of insulting me with hidden words. They are all wondering whether I know it or when I will retaliate."
"Oh? Is that so?" I asked. "And what will my devilish wife be doing to them?"
"Nothing," Gael said with a grin. "They are so far beneath me that even thinking about them is a waste of my time. Their own minds will torment them, wondering when I will do something. That will be punishment enough. Or perhaps I should point a few of them out to Fenrir so he can growl at them or lightly brush them with his wagging tail in the hallway."
I laughed heartily. "You are quite evil, my dear. But do not use Fenrir for that. I do not want to deal with the fallout of someone dying of fright."
"No promises, dear," Gael replied with a laugh.
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King's Road, Somewhere between Winterfell and Last Hearth
The Mountain
Cregan Snow, better known as Mountain around the North, sighed in absolute tiredness as he woke up in the morning in the tent. His head pounded as if he had the greatest hangover after a night of drunken revelry with his friends and followers, but in truth it was his bastard father's doing. Every night for weeks the bastard had attacked their minds from time to time, and no matter how hard they tried, they simply could not throw the man out of their heads.
In a way, it was utterly terrifying for him to realise that his father was powerful enough to attack them all the way from King's Landing.
Mountain groggily sat up, massaging his head and the side of his face to soothe the pain. The only good thing was that today the pain was far less than in the beginning. At one point he had even thought of abandoning his vengeance on the wildlings and fleeing to Essos because of the agony, but his will and determination along with the rage in his heart never allowed him to do so.
He prepared for another day of travelling and exited his tent. It was the time to have food and as he tried to swallow some bread, he looked at his three brothers—Jon, Aemon, and Ned—who also looked like they were suffering from massive hangovers. The only good thing was that any injuries they suffered in the dreamscape did not transfer to their real bodies. They were equipped with the best steel and furs from Winterfell, as well as many dragonglass weapons from Winterfell.
All of them completed the food and his grandfather ordered the start of travel for the day. Many looked on with envy as Mountain's hand tightened around the Morningstar he had been gifted by Lord Stark. It rankled his pride to accept anything because of his father, but he was pragmatic enough to accept what was needed. The mace-like weapon was said to be made of star ore according to legend, and the lack of rust or age on it gave credibility to that claim. The weapon was as long as his hand and had considerable weight. Usually, he didn't like swords or mace-like weapons; he preferred a warhammer. But this time needs must.
Another weapon Mountain had been gifted was a huge greatsword that even trained men-at-arms of Winterfell found hard to use because of its weight. He could wield it as a bastardsword in one hand when needed. In a way, the four brothers were covered in weapons and carrying weights that would have dragged down any lesser man. Seeing the difference, he could not even curse his father, since he had inherited that strength from him.
The four brothers rode ahead as the vanguard for the group, as usual, when they began their travel. Lord Umber, Mountain's grandfather, had tasked them with this, knowing Mountain's warging and his powers to fight off any ambush if it came to that.
Only after the travelling party was no longer visible did the four brothers begin their plans and talking.
"So, anyone had any progress today against that bastard?" Jon asked with a tired sigh.
"Nothing, brother," Mountain replied, and the other two nodded with the same grimace of pain.
Several minutes passed before one of them voiced the question they had all been thinking.
"Mountain… what if we cannot throw him off before we reach the Wall?" Aemon asked hesitantly. "I do not see the Night's Watch allowing us beyond the Wall without a letter from King's Landing or Winterfell, and that will only come if we endure and win."
Mountain remained silent as he thought about it, then finally replied. "Do not worry. We have made tremendous progress, and I am sure we will at least fight him off enough to satisfy his requirement by that time. There are still many weeks left. I must thank you, my brothers, for suffering this pain with me. Even with my unending fury at the wildlings, my mind whispers sweet promises of painless sleep if I simply abandon this task. You three have no such rage or vow to follow and could walk away if you wished, yet here you are, supporting me. I am truly grateful."
The three brothers smiled at that.
"To be honest," Ned said, "training with Father is much better than anything we did before. I hate him for abandoning me, but he still has plenty of uses. Why should I reject help that improves my situation? Look at this." Ned shrugged, pointing at the weapons covering his body—things he could never have bought with his own coin.
Mountain was intrigued but remained silent as he turned to Jon and Aemon for their reasoning.
"We are children of smallfolk, brother," Aemon said. "You grew up in a castle under Lord Umber and learned the sums and the things needed for ruling, while we grew up among the smallfolk learning physical work. This is our only chance to advance further than our other half-brothers. We thought we would be chosen for the fifteen because of our prowess and that we would move to King's Landing, but somehow Lord Stark and our father knew we would not be loyal enough to serve them forever by enjoying the charity and position they offered. The other fifteen kiss the land Lord Stark and Daemon walk on because they are happy with what they have, while we three have a sin called ambition. I want to be someone who stands above others in history and be remembered. I want the comfort of having gold, wines and women's and a castle for myself."
"That is commendable," Mountain said. "Ambition is not a sin, and everyone has it even if the size differs."
"Brother, I need to ask something," Jon said reluctantly. "Do you actually plan to rule those filthy savages as their king beyond the Wall? Will our father even acknowledge the claim? And what about the White Walkers and their army? Clearly, we will not match them when they attack, whether it is tomorrow or a century from now."
Mountain grimaced as he remembered another discussion with his accursed father.
"I will be frank, brothers. If not for my need for vengeance and rage, I would have gone to Essos where my father has no influence, started a mercenary company, and conquered some place to be its king once I had enough men and coin. But even now the wildlings climb the Wall and attack our people. I will not allow that anymore. For eight thousand years they have spread like cockroaches beyond the Wall, and worse, they feed the army of our enemy. I will write myself into History and Tales with the filthy wildlings blood, all the while even saving the world in the process."
All three brothers swallowed their panic as they imagined the numbers they had seen in the memory shared by their father. Still, they knew the risks, and they wanted the name and the adventure.
"Daemon said he is only allowing this venture because he wants the wildling problem solved and does not want them feeding the walkers anymore," Mountain said through clenched teeth. "I want them dead or their wills broken before me. I will conquer and kill through all the different clans no matter what. I will be crowned the King Beyond the Wall by my own hands, and when it is over, I will give my crown to one of you rather than acknowledge Daemon as emperor. You can reap whatever rewards the bastard gives. I will go to Essos or stay in Last Hearth tending my Mammoths."
Mountain did not miss the gleam of greed in his brothers' eyes at the kingship waiting for one of them.
"How will the heir be selected?" Ned asked in wonder.
Mountain shrugged. "How should I know how the bastard will choose among you? But I am certain that if one of you betrays the others, the bastard will find out and make your life miserable, or kill you. I suggest you all work hard to support me in this venture, and let your deeds define you. More than that, we must survive the deadly trial first, before worrying about the spoils. If it was only the savages we don't need to worry, but with the Others, we need to be really careful."
"Speaking of survival, what if we are attacked by thousands of undead and walkers?" Jon whispered, fear clear in his voice.
"I asked Daemon this once," Ned replied immediately. "He did not send us on this mad journey just to have us added to the undead army. Daemon assured me there are no such active numbers outside the Land of Always Winter right now. The summer is only beginning and is predicted to be a long one. Any small band is something we can defeat with our abilities and the recruits we have."
"Do not worry about the undead or walkers," Mountain said. "Daemon, younger than us, survived two walkers and a hundred wights, and my grandfather has assured me that as I am now, I am more powerful and skilled than Daemon was at that age. And then there will be my allies." Mountain smirked.
"Allies?" Ned asked curiously.
"You will see them later," Mountain replied. "Also, brothers, we have Stark blood, and we are all wargs of varying power. Why should direwolves be limited to Daemon and Lord Stark All smiled at the thought of having a direwolf as a companion.
"Brother," Jon said to Mountain, "I am surprised at your change of mind since our family meeting in the dreamscape. You were adamant about not acknowledging Daemon as emperor or needing anything from him. Yet here you are, using his support and resources."
Mountain grimaced, remembering the beatings they had received in the name of training.
"Brothers, as I said, I am not a fool. I am a proud warrior. I realise Daemon is more powerful and skilled than I am, and only real experience will help me catch up. I do not expect much improvement fighting the savages, but if some walkers attack, it will be good training. More than that, we are allies of convenience—my vendetta against the wildlings matches his desire to see the problem ended. Even then, I am sure the only reason he is allowing his precious blood to risk falling into walker hands is because he is certain we can survive with our current power and skill."
"Well, let us hope we all survive to enjoy the rewards," Jon replied, and the others accepted it in silence.
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King's Landing
Daemon 'The Arrogant' Targaryen
It was two days after the trial of the traitors, and already I was pleased with the benefits that had come from it. They were vilified by the smallfolk, who now realized how much the bards had gained from my generosity, and yet betrayed me as they hungered for more. The story of how I had picked them up from the lowest of positions years ago, taught them songs, given them gold, and even helped them secure a home in a city like White Harbor was now spreading through the streets of King's Landing. I did not even need to use my senses; I could practically see the greed in the eyes of the lesser nobles and the smallfolk as they looked at me.
The servants in the Red Keep followed my every order as if it were gospel, running to fulfil even the smallest request. There was already a certain pride simmering in them, knowing they were under the direct protection of House Targaryen and the visiting nobles couldn't punish them or order them around. For all the problems regarding the current generation of Targaryens, bullying or harassing smallfolkes or servants of the Red Keep was not one of them. I had already seen five servants who had refused gold to stop spying for others. They were afraid—more than that, they had simply realized their families were already in a better position than most folk in King's Landing. Yet there were others who continued the noble art of spying, and I decided to give them a little more time to reconsider their choices before intervening.
I knew that raising expectations too high without meeting them would only cause trouble in the future, and so I decided it was time to extract the last two benefits from the betrayal of the bards. They had been sentenced to death, and many expected the usual public hanging for smallfolk criminals.
The truth was, I really wanted to do what I am about to do in more public setting, but I did not want the people to become truly terrified of my cruelty. I needed the rumours—but not the proof. People must believe that betraying me would lead to a punishment they would not wish on their worst enemies. Rumours without confirmation would inspire far more fear while preserving my image, far more than open torture ever could. I hoped to gain the benefits of that fear, but even if I did not, it was no loss. The true message of what I was about to do was not intended for the public or the nobles. It was meant for my dear cousins.
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The family dinner the king had called for some reason ended in awkward silence, and he dismissed himself early. Gael was nauseous and did not attend, and Aemma had already left with Rhaenyra, leaving only Rhaenys, Daemon, Aegon, and Viserys at the table.
They all stood up to leave, offering me shallow bows, and only then did I speak.
"Dear cousins, the night is still young. I have something to show you, something very memorable," I said seriously, making sure not to smirk or smile.
My cousins shifted uneasily at the absence of my usual grin, though my sister was the first to protest.
"It has been hectic, brother," Rhaenys snapped. "Let us talk in the morning."
"That will not be possible, sister," I replied. "Here, have some wine. All of you will be coming with me."
"And if we don't?" the rogue prince finally asked.
"Then I will knock you out and carry you. So, cousins—what's better? You accompanying me willingly, or me dragging your unconscious selves through the halls where many might see?" I asked with a casual shrug.
"All right. We will come," Rhaenys said through gritted teeth.
I stood and walked out without another word. I did not bother looking back to check if they followed, and yet by the time I reached the entrance to the Black Cells, I could hear their murmuring.
Viserys reached me first, hesitating before asking, "Er… Cousin… what are we doing here at this hour?"
I turned to him with a smile. "Well, Viserys, I have boasted about my abilities—and how hard it is to kill me with poison and all that nonsense. But looking back, I have never demonstrated those abilities in front of you. So I thought I would give you a live demonstration of what happens to betrayers, all while showing you what I can do. After all, seeing is believing, and I would prefer not to have to kill any of you for attempting to betray me."
I did not need to look to know there was horror on the faces of Rhaenys, Viserys, and Aegon—and curiosity on the face of the rogue prince—as I entered the Black Cells.
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Author's Note: what is a story without a small cliffhanger every ten chapter minimum…
See u in next chapter on next Friday/saturday with the black cells scene and may be another otto pov if word count allows.
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My Stories: All For Me. MHA AU.
Grim: Last Hope. (HP/DC/Marvel/Invincible)
Feral Dragon(Wolverine in ASOIAF)
What If ?