Casterly Rock 301 AC.
Jaime Lannister.
He'd been stunned by Daemon's reaction to Myrcella's parentage, shocked even. Cersei had believed that it would be the ruin of them. That once the news was known to Daemon or his family, then that would have been the beginning of the end for their House. They'd be shamed publicly, disowned by their father and their children would forever be tarnished as children born of incest. Myrcella would certainly lose her crown and her husband and things could go even worse for them as they'd perpetrated a lie on the King of the Seven Kingdoms. All her worries though had turned out to be for naught.
Daemon had cared not about the truth of what lay between Jaime and his sister, nor what that truth had led to. Other than the fact that it had hurt Myrcella and now put her at risk, Daemon had not even been angered with them over hiding the truth from him and for the rest of the realm. Instead, he'd concentrated only on those who sought to use that truth against them. He had cared only for the feelings of his wife and for her protection. Which had led to him now flying through the sky on the back of a dragon with the King of the Seven Kingdoms and the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Only one of them was comfortable while doing so.
When they eventually landed, he knew he was in the West but not exactly where they were. The mere fact that they'd covered so much ground so quickly had astonished him. Though as he climbed down off Lyanax's back, he remembered Tyrion telling him just after Daemon had returned from heading to the North, that he had only been gone for mere days. As Daemon spoke softly to the black dragon, Jaime looked to Arthur and saw he was as relieved as he was to be on solid ground once more. He wondered if he knew the truth of things, of the reason for this flight, and if so, what he thought of him and what he and Cersei had done. Daemon had spoken one complete truth in all that he'd said when he'd spoken to him and Cersei. He had said that he was truly in no position to look down upon them for their love given who he was. Jaime now wondered if Arthur felt the same given who he'd served for most of his life.
"Does it get any easier?" he asked motioning to the dragon.
"Gods I hope so," Arthur said making him laugh just a little.
"I never would have believed we could travel so far so quickly," he said while taking stock of their surroundings.
"Nor I. though it explains much that I'd pondered on. Daemon told his family that he had traveled through most of Essos. From Ibben to Asshai and even Valyria. Seeing how quickly a dragon can actually travel, now explains how he was able to do so even in all the years he was gone."
He needed to know if Arthur knew the truth of things and if he now looked upon him even more unfavorably than he had over the last few years. Steeling himself, he readied to ask the question only for Lyanax to take to the sky and Daemon's voice to ring out.
"We should eat and rest, we'll continue once Lyanax has done the same."
He lit the fire himself and soon enough they were cooking a stew of sorts over it, or to be more precise, Daemon was. Both he and Arthur watched with amusement as the King of the Seven Kingdoms became their cook. Daemon tasted the stew and added salt or pepper to it when it didn't meet his requirements. Jaime had to admit that it was delicious when the time came to eat it and as he did so, Arthur asked the question that was on Jaime's lips.
"You learned to cook over the years, your grace?"
"Daemon, Arthur. There's only us here." Daemon said and Arthur nodded "When we traveled we'd take turns, Thoros, Melisandre, and Torgho Nudho who cooks meat in a way that would make your mouth water. Truly. Even something as distasteful as horseflesh when it's in his hands is as tasty as any dish you've ever eaten. Stew, that's my own domain." Daemon smirked.
"It's good," Jaime said through a mouthful of the soft bread he'd just dipped into the stew and taken a big bite from.
They sat in relative silence for some time once they had finished eating. Not an uncomfortable one by any means, but it was as if they had no true words to speak and none of them were the types to engage in idle conversation. Who broke the silence, he didn't know, but the conversation that followed was as close as he was to finding out if Arthur knew his truth that he would have for a few days at least. Daemon basically told his Lord Commander that what he was about to do was necessary and that he'd accept no questioning of his actions.
Once Arthur had insisted he'd not be doing so, they readied for their sleep and Lyanax returned as they were laying down. Daemon bid them both to get some rest and told Arthur they were safe enough where they were. As not only was there no one around for miles but even should someone make their way to them, then R'hllor or Lyanax would see them safer than even Dawn could. Reluctant though he was, Arthur did as he was bid and soon enough they were all sleeping.
Jaime's dreams when they came were as they usually would be, dreams of Cersei. Though these ones were more terrible and worrisome than the shared delights he'd mainly dream of when it came to his sister. Images of her being dragged through the streets. Of her being stripped naked and made to do a walk of shame while the people of King's Landing threw things and shouted insults. Waking from the dreams, the nightmares that they had become, it was to find Daemon standing over him and looking at him with concern.
"Whatever it is you fear, it will not come to pass, Ser Jaime, on that you have my vow," Daemon said and Jaime welcome the reassurance that both his words and his expression brought him.
After breaking their fast, they were soon flying once more and this time he enjoyed it a little more. He still wasn't comfortable and if anyone asked him, then he'd tell them that he'd hope to never need to do this again, but he was at least able to look to the ground and see where they were. Within an hour, they were flying over Deep Den and following the Gold Road and he knew from experience that it took more than a week to ride to Casterly Rock from the seat of House Lydden. While a part of him now wished they'd flown to the keep the night before and rested there, another, larger part, was happy they had not. Better they did what they had come to do and nothing else, Jaime felt.
It was not even mid-afternoon when the Rock came into view and never had it looked as majestic as it did right then. Seeing it from atop a dragon's back was an experience he'd never forget and so he welcomed it when Daemon flew over it more than once before landing. With his father in King's Landing, it would normally fall to his uncle Kevan or aunt Genna to serve as Castellan. Though since both were in King's Landing for the coronation, instead it was his uncle Gerion who served in his father's stead.
Jaime found he much enjoyed the look on his uncle's face when he saw the dragon land just outside the gates. There was no worry or concern, for why should there be when it was Myrcella who Daemon had wed, instead it was awe and wonder that Gerion had greeted the sight of Lyanax with. Then once the dragon took to the sky once again, it was with a warm smile and questioning look to him, before his uncle then took a knee and greeted Daemon.
"Casterly Rock is yours, your grace."
"I thank you, Lord?"
"Ser Gerion, your grace. Uncle to Ser Jaime and greatuncle to her grace, Queen Myrcella."
"Ah, the Lion of Lannisport, my wife has spoken much about you, Ser Gerion, mayhap later we can speak and you'll tell me how much of it was made up?" Daemon said with a smirk that was returned by his uncle.
"I'd like that, your grace."
"Ser Jaime, if you'd lead the way." Daemon said and Gerion moved to walk beside him as Daemon and Arthur followed.
"Should I be concerned?" Gerion whispered.
"Only if your name is Creylen, uncle," he replied just as quietly.
Within a few moments of landing, they were at the Maester's door and Creylen looked at them dumbfounded as he was grabbed by Arthur and by Daemon himself. His mouth opened to speak, to spill the secret he'd used against Cersei for all these years, only for Daemon to slap him across that face with the back of his hand. Creylen then spat out blood from the blow or from biting his lip or tongue and Jaime found he cared not which it was.
"You'll have plenty of time to tell me all I wish to know and there is much we'll get to the bottom of before this day is done. But for now, you hold your tongue or I'll rip it from your mouth," Daemon said, his words ominous and even Arthur seemed shocked by the anger they were spoken with, restrained though it was.
Jaime shook his head when Gerion looked at him, then directed Daemon to the dungeons and soon enough he found himself, Gerion, and Arthur standing outside of one of them while inside Daemon and Creylen spoke together. The screams that came from inside that room were loud and went on for some time. He, Gerion, and most especially Arthur looked to the door at various times during Creylen's torture and Arthur almost walked inside, though in the end none of them did. When Daemon walked out of the cell, he asked for a quill, some ink, and some parchment. As he did so, Jaime wasn't the only one who looked over his shoulder at the man chained to the wall inside.
There was no blood and there seemed to be no marks present on Creylen's body as he sagged against the chains. Jaime wagered that if he could see his eyes they'd tell a story of pain and suffering though, even if his body seemingly did not. When what he'd requested had arrived, Daemon took them from the serving girl and then walked back into the room, the door closing behind him, and no sooner had it than the screams began again. They were longer this time and louder too until all was quiet once more. It took some time for Daemon to walk back out of the cell and Jaime felt that the nod he gave him when he did so, as well as the parchment he carried in his hand, was proof enough he'd gotten what he'd sought.
"You may do with his body as you wish, Ser Jaime. But before we leave on the morrow, that man had better have breathed his last breath." Daemon said firmly and with that, he and Arthur walked down the corridor and left Jaime and Gerion alone.
With a look at his uncle, they entered the cell to find that he was right. There was not a mark on Creylen's body that he could see. Not a drop of blood had been spilled on the floor or stained his clothing and never before had he seen such terror in a man's eyes as he did when he looked at the Maester's face. Gerion looked at him confused and then Jaime moved forward so that he was close enough for the Maester to feel his breath against his ear. Taking his knife in his hand, he spoke loud enough for Gerion and Creylen both to hear his words.
"You held this over my sister and mine own head for far too long and had I but known of it, then you'd have died long before now. I damn you to the Seven Hells for what you put her through."
"Kill me. Please kill me….Don't let them….Don't let them return." Creylen pleaded and had it not been that his knife was already on its way to being buried in the side of the Maester's head, then Jaime may have stopped to consider just who they were. He did not, and Creylen's blood was soon spilled and moments later he breathed no more.
Gerion and he walked from the cell and his uncle told the jailers to see to the body before he then turned to him with a questioning look on his face.
"What in the Seven Hells did he do to him? Gerion asked, why it had been done was already known to him as his uncle was among the few who knew of him and Cersei.
"It wasn't anything to do with the Seven who are One, uncle. That was the work of R'hllor and the hell that Creylen is gone to is one he most deserves."
King's Landing 301 AC.
Myrcella.
She woke to an empty bed, or to be more precise, a bed empty of the person she wished to be lying there. Ghost had been her bed companion the night before and not her husband, but even the wolf it seemed had given her time alone. Rising from the bed, she put a cloak over her slip and moved to the balcony, the cool morning breeze feeling welcome on her skin. Myrcella had not been standing there for long when she felt Ghost's tongue on her hand and it brought a smile to her face.
"You miss him too, no doubt," she said softly and Ghost licked her hand again.
They both stood there looking out on the city for a few moments, just taking in the early morning air before Myrcella turned to make herself ready for the day ahead. It was to be the melee today and she'd be attending the tourney alone with no Daemon by her side. Something that had people not seen Lyanax fly and known her husband somewhat, may have caused gossip and talk. Myrcella felt a slight shiver go down her spine at the other thing that was hanging over her head that could do the same.
Moving to the door, she called for her ladies and then took her seat in front of the looking glass. Rosamund was as always the first to arrive followed by some of the servants and soon enough she'd put aside all thoughts other than those of the day ahead. Once she was dressed and her hair had been made up, she walked to the family dining room to break her fast. Daemon had wished for them to do this as a family and while she was the first to arrive, she did not sit alone for long. Daenerys, Viserys, and Rhaenys were followed by Elia, Rhaegar, and Aegon who had his daughter and his daughter's mother with him. Rhaella was the last to arrive and they were almost finished eating when she did so, Myrcella smiling as she remembered Daemon saying that his grandmother awakened only in her own time.
"Is it just the melee today?" Rhaella asked Rhaenys.
"No, the archery is to take place too."
"And the Kingsguard?" Elia asked.
"Are not competing." Ser Barristan said when all eyes in the room turned to look at him.
The conversation was light and none asked over Daemon's whereabouts, much to her relief. Myrcella was not sure she would be able to speak about where her husband was without thoughts of what he may be doing coming to her mind. After eating, she made her way to her solar to do some work before they left for the tourney grounds and had only just taken a seat when Ser Barristan told her that her mother had requested a meeting. Her first instinct was to tell him to send her away, she'd made it clear to her mother that she had wished not to speak to her for a few days, but then she began to wonder if this was Daemon's doing.
"Send her in, Ser," she said after a few moments of thought.
It was clear that her mother had shed some tears and yet she looked far less worried or fearful than she had when she'd broken the news to her, but a day earlier. There was worry there, but it was more now for what Myrcella herself may say rather than worrying over Creylen and the Maesters. On that, she couldn't find too much fault as she too now feared less about that than she had mere hours ago. The two of them sat in silence for a few moments, both looking anywhere but at each other, and in the end, it was Myrcella that spoke first.
"Why did my father agree to wed you?" she asked, naming the man she had always known as her father as still so, even if he no longer was.
"Lucion's tastes ran in a different direction than what his father would have wished for him. To be wed to me wasn't just good for his House but to cover for those tastes too." her mother said somewhat cryptically and Myrcella took a moment to understand what she was saying.
"He lay with men didn't he?" she asked and her mother nodded.
"He was a good man, Cella. And I swear it to you, he did love you as if you were his own."
"Did he know?" she asked.
"Know?"
"Of you and uncle Jaime?"
"He knew. When we spoke of it he said something very similar to what your husband said last night." her mother said and Myrcella moved forward in her seat before her mother continued "I don't believe love can ever be sinful or wrong."
Despite still feeling angry at her mother and not yet having come to terms with the fact that the man she'd loved as a father was anything but, Myrcella smiled at her mother's words.
"Did you? When uncle Jaime would come and father…"
"No." her mother said firmly "We may have had an agreement between us, but we never would shame each other so. Lucion and I would keep up a mummery when we shared the same roof over our heads. We were married in all but name, Cella. And he was a good husband as well as a good father. I'll not allow anyone to name him any different."
"Then when? How?" she asked, not daring to say the words aloud, not wishing to ask the question about when her mother and un… father had lain together.
"Your father would spend much time away, remember? Jaime and I would…" her mother stuttered at the look that appeared on Myrcella's face "When we could."
A quietness came over the solar for the next few moments. Her mother seemed afraid to speak and Myrcella held her tongue lest she said things to hurt rather than help bridge the divide that had opened between them. She and her mother had always been close. They'd had their differences, argued, and at times disagreed with each other, but they'd always been close and even more so since she came to King's Landing and they were each other's only family within reach, other than Tyrion.
"Tommen can never know, mother," she said determinedly.
"I know."
"I haven't forgiven you, I can't." she said and her mother seemed to shrink in on herself somewhat "Not yet." she added to a grateful nod of her mother's head "But Daemon was right, love can't be sinful."
"You truly believe so?"
"How can I not. If I name what you and uncle… fat… did as sinful then I have to look to my husband and his family with the same eyes, I do not and so cannot."
"I never wished you to know, Cella." her mother said.
"Why?" she asked somehow holding her angered response in check.
"Because Lucion deserved to be held forever in your heart. Jaime loves you, but be it as an uncle or a father, that love would never be lessened no matter how you thought of him. I wished the same for Lucion too. He deserved that much."
"Did you love him?" she asked to a confused look "Not as you do unc…" her mother interrupted before she could finish her words.
"I loved him as much as I could. He was a good man, and he allowed me to keep my own love too. How could I not love him for that and for how he was with my children."
They didn't embrace and spoke no more words about her father or her uncle, and instead, she simply bid her mother to join her when they left to go to the tourney grounds. Myrcella asked her to take her seat beside her. Though it was partly for appearance's sake, that wasn't entirely the reason. Which for now had to be enough, Myrcella felt. After her mother left, she asked to be left alone and spend most of the next few moments shedding tears as she remembered the times she'd spent with the man she'd named as her father.
He'd always been there for her, through every single moment of her life that had mattered until he had passed. At night he'd read to her and tuck her into her bed and when she'd wake and make her way to break her fast, he'd be there waiting with a smile on his face and a place on his lap should she seek it. How he'd done so while knowing she wasn't his blood was something that Myrcella couldn't understand at first. Yet as she wiped the tears from her eyes and then washed her face with the cool water that she sent for, she believed that her mother's words about him were true
"You were and will always be my father, Lucion Lannister. I love and miss you," she said softly before turning and making her way from the solar and to the courtyard below.
(The Following pov may contain some small parts that some find disturbing).
Yin 301 AC.
Daario Naharis.
The death of Bu Gai caused a stir and was it not for his god's favor then Daario may have felt himself to be in danger. Yet even though it was clear to any with eyes to see that he had played a part in that death, no one came to him or challenged him over it. So his first instinct which had been to leave the city and make his way elsewhere was held at bay. Not that it was anywhere but here that his god wished him to be. As had been made clear to him. Firstly by the voice in his head and then by Pyat Pree when the warlock had sought him out.
So Daario had found himself almost at a loss for what to do. He was a ship without wind or oars and just seemed to be floating on the sea for close to a week, and then Chai Yen and his army arrived. Looking at it from the top of the walls that surrounded the great city of Yin, Daario chuckled. He'd said to the man who'd named himself the true God-Emperor, that given the wealth he'd possessed he could just buy an army and take the city and kill Bu Gai himself. It was clear now that Chai Yen and Pol Qo had no need to buy an army.
Looking down at the sheer mass of men, Daario would say they were close to if not more than one hundred thousand strong. Almost half of it was mounted on zorses too. Bu Gai had gathered somewhere in the region of thirty thousand armed men in the city alone and yet there was to be no battle here today. Instead, both he and Pyat Pree watched as the great gates were opened and a procession rather than an attack took place. Chai Yen was riding at the front and dressed all in yellow while behind him Pol Qo wore orange armor and people waved and cheered them on.
"Our god's work." Pyat Pree said almost reverently.
It took almost a day for the procession to end. Chai Yen brought his entire army into the city and marched them right up the palace. Though given the sheer size of the palace itself, there was more than enough room to fit each and every single man inside and do so comfortably. He and Pyat Pree made their way to the palace and were greeted warmly. Daario found himself stunned by the slaps on the back and the smiles they were shown as they passed by the soldiers and walked to the golden throne where Chai Yen now sat.
"Ah, my good friend, it is good to see you healthy and well." Pol Qo said and Daario looked to Pyat Pree who wore the same confused expression that he did.
"You too," he said to a laugh from a man who'd shown no humor or good favor to them when last they met.
Chai Yen was at least more or less how he'd been in Carcosa. The new God Emperor was stern-faced and yet he welcomed them warmly too. Even more so when Bu Gai's body and head were brought and laid down in front of him. Though the welcome he gave the man that Daario had killed was anything but friendly or respectful. Firstly taking his small cock out and pissing on the body that had been laid in front of him and then he took the head in his hand and spat in its face.
"You think this too much?" Chai Yen asked when he saw how Daario looked at him.
"I think the man is dead and so what care he or I what you do to his corpse," he replied which seemed to please Chai Yen.
"You have no idea what I'm about to do with this corpse." Chai Yen said a moment later and Daario looked to Pyat Pree who seemed to know a little more than he.
They feasted that night and it was unlike any he'd ever been to before. It was more an orgy than a feast if truth be told. People coupled together openly as if they were Dothraki and not from Yi Ti. Men with men, women with women, and every combination in between. Yet Daario turned down any offer to join in and there were many. Instead, his thoughts were with a woman who was not there and then they were with another woman that he'd been promised would one day be his.
For four days and nights, the celebrations never wavered. The orgy and feasts were non stop and Daario grew more and more bored by all of it. Each night he would go somewhere where there was no noise or nothing to distract him and either spar with his new Arakh and just enjoy what he could do with he blade, or sit quietly and wait to hear the voice in his head. Though on this he was to be disappointed as there was only silence.
On the fifth day, Pyat Pree came to him and told him they'd be leaving that night, something that he welcomed. The Warlock told him that the time for celebrating had come to an end and their god's will was to be done that night before they left. Daario listened as he was told the true purpose for Bu Gai's body would be revealed. That it may be for the best if he did any eating that he wished to do early rather than later on. When he asked the reason why that was so, the Warlock spoke no more and it annoyed him greatly. Still, he did as he'd been bid and when the time came for the truth to be shown, he stood next to Pyat Pree and looked on curiously.
It seemed as if the entire city had been called out to bear witness. The armies, both Chai Yen and what had once been Bu Gai's, the people, both slaves and freemen, Pol Qo, Chai Yen, and what looked to be every single servant that they had in their service. Above them in the sky the moon was full and Daario watched as Bu Gai's body was laid on a raised platform for all to see. Then Chai Yen raised his hands and a hush came over the crowd. Something that was a sight to see given just how many people were there. He looked on as Pol Qo handed Chai Yen what seemed to be a pair of knives and the God-Emperor then moved and climbed up so he was standing next to Bu Gai on the platform.
"Our God calls us to his side. He bids us fight in his army and we answer." Chai Yen said and then he began to cut into Bu Gai's body, throwing piece after piece of it into the crowd who fought over it and to Daario's disgust, then began to eat each piece of it.
On and on this went. Men and women killed each other just to be the ones who consumed a piece of Bu Gai's body. It was only when the last two pieces were left that things quietened down once more. Daario then saw Chai Yen look to Pol Qo who moved to join him on the platform. A piece of Bu Gai was soon in the man's hands as he too ate it down before finally Chai Yen then consumed the last piece. Turning to look at Pyat Pree, the words that had been spoken to him earlier now made sense, and the Warlock nodded at him that it was time for them to depart.
"For our god." he heard Chai Yen say and then to his complete and utter shock he watched as one after another, every single person there began to take their own life.
"What the fuck?" he said as both Pol Qo and Chai Yen stabbed each other repeatedly.
" My will is done." the voice in his head said.
Turning again to look at Pyat Pree, he saw an eager look on the warlock's face and by the time they reached their ship, Daario was even more confused by what he'd just witnessed.
"I don't…" he began as they stood on the deck, his words stolen from him, for where once there had been nothing but bodies, now a lone figure clad in yellow now walked among them "Chai Yen," he said incredulously.
"No, not anymore. Now he champion's our god." Pyat Pree said and Daario looked on as Chai Yen raised his hands aloft and around him body after body rose up and looked their way.
As he lay down to try and sleep that night, Daario found himself unable to close his eyes. The red eyes he'd seen staring at him from the docks now seemed to wait for him in his dreams. Eventually, tiredness won out in the end and sleep finally came to him. It wasn't the red eyes of Chai Yen or Pol Qo nor the thousands of dead men and women that he'd seen rise at Yin that awaited him when he did sleep though. No in his sleep he found only white eyes and they called to him to lead in the battle to come.
King's Landing 301 AC.
Sansa Stark.
Other than the smell, which she'd been stunned to find had once been much worse, Sansa loved every single thing about her time in King's Landing. From the feasts which were so much different to the ones held in Winterfell, to the materials you could buy, which included silks of a like she'd never seen before, right up to the ladies themselves. While Arya, Bran, and Rickon had looked forward to seeing knights fight and to the tourney, something that Sansa herself was most keen on seeing, she'd looked most forward to spending time with some of the Southern ladies to find out if all she'd read about them was true. In that regard, she'd been much helped by being a cousin of the king and so being welcomed into the queen's company.
Myrcella had insisted that she name her by her name as much as was proper, which had endeared her to Sansa even more. Not much older than she was, the queen had shared her own stories of first coming to King's Landing. She had even told Sansa that those feelings that she had of being out of place or not belonging were ones that Myrcella herself had at first. She'd told her that she belonged here as much as any of the other ladies at court and she was the cousin of a king, which meant that she was very much not out of place. It allowed Sansa to relax and enjoy things more. To feel a part of events rather than to stick out at them.
When Myrcella had then offered her a place among her ladies in waiting, both a temporary one while she and her family were in King's Landing, or a more permanent one should it be something that Sansa wished for, she'd not known what to think. On one hand, she'd enjoyed it immensely. She spent her time with the queen and those who surrounded her, speaking with the princesses, and gossiping about silly things. While on the other, the thoughts of leaving the North and coming here for a year or more were ones that scared her somewhat. Today though all such thoughts were a thing of the past. The tourney was soon to begin and that was the only thing she could concentrate on as she broke her fast and then hurried to the queen's rooms once she'd done so.
She arrived to find Lady Margaery Tyrell and Mycella's own cousin Rosamund had beat her to it. Rosamund raised her eyebrow and smirked at her, which brought a smile to Sansa's face. The young Lannister girl was her age and they'd struck up a friendship of sorts. She had a wicked sense of humor and knew more about those at court than anyone, other than the Red Priest that her cousin had taken on as his Master of Whisperers, or so Lady Margaery had told her. As for the Golden Rose of House Tyrell, Rosamund had confided in her that at one point she and Myrcella did not get along as both were seen as to be potential brides for Prince Aegon. Now though it seemed a match was to be made with Myrcella's brother Tommen and Myrcella had of course been named as queen. So whatever animus had once existed between them was now a thing of the past.
"I had wagered you'd beat us both here this morn, Sansa," Margaery said and Rosamund's smirk turned to a giggle.
"It seems I wasn't the most excited for the tourney to come, I wonder why? Does my lady have a bold knight to wear her favor?" Sansa japed back and caught Ser Barristan's chuckle when Margaery blushed a little.
"Not today. I convinced Tommen not to take part in the melee and to concentrate on the joust instead." Margaery replied almost dreamily.
"It seems it's a crown of roses our friend wishes from this tourney, Sansa," Rosamund said before they were called inside.
"I wish you good fortune, Margaery, truly," she said to a bright smile from her new friend as they entered the Royal Chambers.
Less than an hour later, they were taking their seats in the stands. She and Rosamund sat to the left of Myrcella while Princess Rhaenys and Princess Daenerys sat to the right. While she'd not spent much time in Princess Rhaenys' company, her duties as Hand of the King not really allowing for her to do much else, she had been often in Princess Daenerys'. She'd been shocked at first to find out that it was another girl and not some brave knight that had won the princess' favor. Even more so to find that not one person even gossiped or looked down at her over it. Though given she was a princess of House Targaryen and her nephew was a Dragonrider, mayhap she should not be.
Looking at those in the stands, Sansa could see her family sitting in seats of prominence and she offered them a wave which was returned by her mother and sister. Her father and uncle Benjen sat with Lord Willas Tyrell and Lord Tyrion Lannister, all four of them and Lord Wyman Manderly were engaged in eager conversation she was happy to see. For many years her mother had told her tales of the South and how it looked upon those of the North and yet it seemed that was now a thing of the past. She smiled as her great-uncle Ser Brynden Tully, the famed Blackfish who she'd been overjoyed to meet, spoke to Bran and Rickon. Her oldest brother, was as she'd have wagered, far keener to sit and listen than her wilder younger one. Sansa had been so very proud to find that not only was Bran to soon be named as Lord of Riverrun but as Lord Paramount of the Trident too. Her mother's family had now finally regained the position they'd held for so many years.
"Your Graces, My Princes and Princesses, My Lords and Ladies, Good Knights and Good Men and Women of Westeros, it is my honor to welcome you all to the Tourney of King's Landing 301 AC. A tourney that is being held in honor of our new King, His Grace King Daemon Targaryen, and our new Queen, Her Grace Myrcella Lannister. Long May the Reign."
"Long May the Reign." the shouts rang out at the herald's words.
"Today we shall witness feats of Archery, Horsemanship, and a Great Melee. On the Morrow, it shall be a Joust for the ages. On behalf of their graces and House Targaryen, I deem this tourney to begin."
Drums rang out and the sound of horns was heard and then Sansa looked eagerly to the field to see the horses begin to ride. She looked on in awe as feats of horsemanship that were of a like she'd never seen before took place. Men were riding without the use of reins or standing tall in the saddle. Some of them were hitting targets with lances or different weapons of their choosing. When it was done with, she clapped as loudly as anyone else, and then it was time for the archery to begin.
The first prize ended up going to a man from the Summer Islands, a prince of some sort or other and he had well deserved it. There was a break in events for luncheon and Myrcella gave her leave to share hers with her family, something that Sansa most welcomed. As she ate, her mother asked her if she was enjoying the tourney as much as she had hoped she was and Sansa told her that she very much was. Arya spoke of the melee to come and was even keener on it than Rickon was. Her brother instead seemed put out that their wolves were not with them. Though Sansa believed that it was for the best they were free to roam the Kingswood and hunt to their heart's content. She kissed her mother's cheek and bid her farewell for the now when their luncheon was over with and soon enough she was sitting back beside Rosamund. Though there was no sign of Margaery when she got there.
"She's with Tommen," Rosamund whispered.
"Where?" she asked curiously.
"To the left of her family."
Sansa looked and soon found her friend. Margaery was sitting beside Tommen and her brother Loras and was speaking far more to the one than the other. The laughing she was doing when Tommen whispered in her ear showed just how much she was enjoying herself. It was the sounds of swords hitting shields that brought her attention to the field and there were times over the next few hours that both she and Rosamund found themselves turning away from the melee. Only to turn back a few moments later and be relieved that a fallen knight or lord had risen to their feet once more.
In the end, it was one of her cousin's men who took the day. No Kingsguard had taken part and her own coin were she to wager it, would have been on the Greatjon. It was not to be the giant Lord of Last Hearth's day, however. As Torgho Nudho, or that was what she believed the Unsullied's name to be, took the day instead. As he took the plaudits most stoically, Rosamund leaned forward and whispered in her ear that Myrcella had confided in her that Daemon had wished for a message to be sent. If that was indeed so, then it was one that most around the stands took clearly. To mess with their king or his family was to mess with men such as Torgho Nudho. Though that wasn't the only thing that Rosamund confided in her and later that night at the feast, Sansa found herself looking far more closely at Lord Aurane Velaryon.
King's Landing 301 AC.
Rhaella.
She still hated tourneys as much as ever. They bored her and one of the things she'd miss about confining herself to Dragonstone was being able to avoid them. It was a far easier thing to do when you weren't present in the city while one took place than it was when you were there. People may have felt slighted by her being on Dragonstone and not attending, they'd feel it ever more truly were she to do so while staying in the Red Keep. So she forbore it as much as she could. Even if her eyes looked more to the empty seat next to her Goodgrandaughter than to the field itself.
Daemon had not spoken to her about why he needed to leave so abruptly, instead leaving it to Thoros to do so. The Red Priest came to her and shared the truth about Myrcella's parentage and in turn, confirmed something that Rhaella and Bon had always suspected. Jaime and Cersei had ever been close and Joanna had once confided in her that at times she'd felt the need to separate her twins from each other. Her friend had said no more than that, but Rhaella knew what love looked like. She saw it each time that Bon looked her way, and in her own expression when she looked at herself in the looking glass and thought of her own love. So she had suspected and had now had it confirmed. That and something which had angered her greatly.
" There is more than one Maester involved?" She asked as she, Bon, and Thoros sat in her rooms.
" Daemon believes so. As does Lady Cersei."
" And he's gone to deal with them all?" Bon asked.
" To Casterly Rock and then to Oldtown, Ser Bonifer."
" He could have come to us, Bon would have…."
" Daemon will use the shadows, your grace. None can get answers easier than they."
She still shivered slightly at the thought of that. Shadows of long since dead kings that answered to her grandson's commands. Rhaella had seen how Daemon had brought them to his side and yet she felt there was much he hadn't told her about them, truths he still kept hidden from her and she feared just why he did so. Still, knowing that it was that and not something far more dangerous that Daemon was off dealing with, did allow her to put her mind to where it should be. Dorne.
Oberyn had sent a clear message in not kneeling and swearing his oaths of fealty, even if it was one that some would take time to understand the truth of. He had doomed more than just himself with his actions and nothing that Elia could say to her, nothing that Rhaenys, Rhaegar, or anyone could say to her would change the fate of House Martell now. For while Oberyn was a rash impulsive fool, he would not have taken such action without being given leave to do so by his brother. One acted, the other plotted and planned, and both would need to meet their ends. Given the nature of the House of Snakes, any of them left alive would plot to avenge those deaths and so they too would need to be dealt with most harshly.
"By the gods those Unsullied are impressive," Bonifer said from beside her, taking her from her thoughts.
"What?" she asked shaking her head and turning to look at her most faithful knight.
"Torgho Nudho took the day, my queen."
Rhaella smiled at that. Daemon had wished to send a message and she'd suggested he use Arthur or Barristan to do so, only for her grandson to tell her his reason for why he'd not.
" People are well aware of Ser Arthur and Ser Barristan's prowess, as they are mine own. Torgho Nudho is a match for any man of Westeros or Essos, I can count on one hand those who can defeat him with spear or sword. It's time the realm knows I have such men to call upon."
That the message had been sent and would be received was not the only reason for her good cheer as they rode back to the Red Keep. For while the day had gone quickly for her, given she was lost in her thoughts, it had still been a dull one to Rhaella's mind. She may enjoy the Joust a little more on the morrow, for now, though she wished to speak on Dorne. So once she was settled back in her rooms, she bid Bon seek out Thoros so they could all speak.
While he was off seeing it done, Rhaella changed into more comfortable clothing, sighing loudly when she took off the too-tight shoes she'd worn. She was sitting on her couch and wiggling her toes when Bon and Thoros entered the room. Her love soon took a seat beside her and bid her to give him her sore feet while Thoros sat opposite them both. Closing her eyes, she welcomed the feel of Bon's hands as they caressed her toes and the heel of her foot.
"Forgive me, Thoros, but I made an error with my footwear."
"There is naught to forgive, your grace."
"What plans does my grandson have with Prince Oberyn, Thoros?" she asked getting right to the point.
"Other than his death, your grace, few if any."
"Do you understand politics at all? Is it something you have much experience in?"
"I'm a red priest of R'hllor, your grace. While my brother and sister priests may claim that it's in his service that we do all, there have been those in the order who've sought their own gain. I've spent time with Magisters, the Old Blood, and traveled extensively with my prince in Essos where we both have dealt much with politics and those who use it for their benefit. Westeros may be different in its weather, customs, and food, but it's not that much different when you get to the core of it." Thoros said pleasing her greatly.
"What Oberyn did by not kneeling, that needs to be answered to. However, both Bon and I believe that whatever request is made of them will be one that they ignore. Oberyn is a fool who may do things at the drop of a hat, his brother Doran is not and he would understand that he cannot beat my grandson alone."
"You think he has a hidden ally?" Thoros asked and Rhaella looked to Bon.
"Not in Westeros," Bon said assuredly.
"So who in Essos would seek to harm my grandson, other than those who've acted against us already?" she asked.
She listened as Thoros spoke of the number of enemies that Daemon had racked up over the years he was away from her. Magisters, Masters, Old Blood and Pureborn, men from as near as Braavos and as far as Yi Ti. Yet in all the words that Thoros said, it was the ones on the Golden Company that rang most true. For they had not just been an enemy of her grandson over the years and while it had been some time since they'd marched against her house, marched against it they had.
"We have people close to the Martells, though not close enough. I would ask you to seek answers in the fires, Thoros. To ask your fellow priests and priestesses to find answers if there are any to be found." she said looking to the now worried man who seemed to be thinking of doing such already.
"I shall. Though Daemon's connection with R'hllor is strongest of all."
"Still, we should do all we can to have a solution to present to my grandson when he seeks it."
"We shall." Thoros said as he rose to his feet "Your grace, Ser Bonifer."
He hadn't made it to the door before she called him back, Thoros turning to look at her and Bonifer as she asked him a question that she had never expected to utter.
"These shadows my grandson calls on, can they be set against those who wish him harm?"
"They can and have your grace," Thoros said, smiling as he left the room.
Bonifer let her sit in silence for some time after the red priest had left, her love giving her time to formulate a course of action in her head. It was for the best that they dealt with Dorne sooner rather than later. If they had the need to provoke them then provoke them they should. They should not give them time to bring to bear whatever allies they'd found. Rhaella had no issue with seeing each and every single member of House Martell fall, not if they posed a risk to her family which they did. So while she'd at first wondered if she should send the Hundred to bring about their ends, now she was thinking more of Daemon's shadows.
"Make sure we know Oberyn's movements, Bon, I fear we must act soon."
"Then act we will, my queen," Bon said as he took her feet in his hand again and this time her eyes stayed closed as he caressed them softly.
What brought her to the window later that night, she knew not. Only that she'd awoke and felt the need to move to it for some reason. Standing there and feeling the cool breeze on her face, she wondered if it would end with House Martell. Would they be the last House to stand against her own? Would their fall be enough to bring peace for years to come? Daemon she knew had battles to fight, eyes that needed to be closed, and a destiny to fulfill, but other than those battles, would the one against Dorne be the last she needed to fight? She prayed it would and then she smiled as she heard the sound of wings and saw the shadow of the Black Dragon against the fullness of the moon. Her grandson had returned and she could rest for true this night. For on the morrow she had much work to do.
Oldtown 301 AC.
Daemon.
Creylen had cursed him, named him as a heathen and a Dragonspawn, and said that he'd tell him nothing. He'd repeated it right up until he'd seen the shadows. Then he'd told him all that he needed to know and given up each and every single name. Seven men, seven in total as these fools believed themselves to be doing the work of the gods. Learned and educated men one and all and yet they knew so very little of how the world truly worked.
While they hated his family according to what Creylen had said, it was him they truly despised. It was Daemon that they truly wished to see cast down and forgotten about and yet they'd waited right to the last moment to make their move. Why that was had made no sense to him when he'd heard it from Creylen's lips then, nor did it now as he thought more on it. Though soon enough he had more pressing things on his mind as the shadows came and took their due.
Both Arthur and Jaime noticed how he looked when they took flight the next day. Neither man commented on it though, which he was thankful for. It took them no time at all to arrive at Oldtown and rather than the Citadel, it was to Lord Leyton and the Hightowers that Daemon presented himself first. His grandmother's lessons had been learned well and he knew full well how it would look were he to be seen snub House Hightower. So after speaking to the Lord, his sons, and daughters. When they were then finished with the luncheon that Lord Leyton had arranged for them, and that all three of them had partaken of hungrily, they walked the short distance from the Hightower to the Citadel.
"Your grace?" the acolyte who served as a gatekeeper of sorts said confusedly when they had entered the Seneschal's Court.
"I've come to speak to Archmaester Ebrose among others, " Daemon said as a way of explanation and within a moment he, Jaime, and Arthur were being led through the halls of the Citadel and were both looked at warily and whispered about too.
Daemon paid little attention to the high shelves where countless books were stored, nor to the many Maesters and their acolytes that sat at desks reading or transcribing from those books. Instead, he repeated the six names that Creylen had given him and made ready to put faces to those names in his head. Perestan, Nymos, and Yandel were three men who wished to do more than simply write about the history of his House, they wanted to shape it too. Cetheres and Agrivane were two men who had wished to be Septons rather than Maesters and yet had somehow managed to rise to be Archmaesters. Last of all was Archmaester Norren, the man behind it all, It had been his plan to hold the threat over Cersei's head and to use it when he did. As he walked through the large hall, Daemon vowed that before the dawn broke on the morrow, Norren and his five fellow conspirators would breathe no more.
"Your grace, a most welcome surprise." an old grey-haired and bearded man said as he hurried to greet him.
"Archmaester Ebrose I assume?"
"Indeed your grace. To what do we owe the honor of your visit?" the Archmaester asked suspiciously.
"I had some business to attend to with Lord Hightower, Archmaester, and thought to kill two birds with one stone so to speak."
"Your grace?"
"I had intended to have the Grandmaester seek these tomes out for me, but given I was to travel to Oldtown anyway, I felt I could come and read them myself."
"Which tomes, your grace?"
"Archmaester Galdyn's Fire and Blood, Archmaester Perestan's A Consideration of History, and Maester Yandel's The World of Ice and Fire," Daemon said sounding eager though he was very much not and had found the first of those books to be full of errors and wrongful notions when he'd read it some years earlier.
"I shall see them brought to you at once, your grace. I must say it does hearten the soul to find that you're much like your good father when it comes to a search for knowledge." Ebrose said warmly.
"A man who doesn't seek to learn more than he already knows is a man who knows nothing, Archmaester," he said to a true laugh from the older man.
The books were brought to him, as was food and drink, though he only partook of either once the rubies had shown him that it was safe to do so. Though the reading of these tomes was not his reason for coming here, far from it, he did find himself looking through them keenly. Especially when he got to the book on his namesake. The Rogue Prince was title enough but the Maesters loved their words and Archmaester's even more so it seemed. So the tome's full title was The Rogue Prince, or, A King's Brother: A Consideration of the Early Life, Adventures, Misdeeds, and Marriages of Prince Daemon Targaryen. Little of it was actually accurate, though when he got to the Battle above the God's Eye, he did notice one small detail that he took note of for later.
As he sat and read, Jaime and Arthur stood guard and both men seemed somewhat confused by his actions. He'd not told either the names of the men he sought or much on how he would be dealing with them, just that he would be dealing with them. When they left here, he'd explain it further but he couldn't be seen to seek them out and in this, it seemed he had his god's favor once more. The men themselves made their way to seek him out instead. First, it was Yandel and Perestan, Daemon taking note of exactly what they looked like. Then Nymos was followed by Cetheres and Agrivane, and finally, as he was finishing up his reading, Norren made himself known to him.
Had Daemon not already known just what these men thought of him, then how they looked at him would have proved it so. Not one of them was a decent enough mummer to cover up their disdain and disgust that he was in their presence. He'd even had to shake his head at Arthur more than once when some snide remark or other was spoken. To all who saw their interactions, along with the many he had with other Archmaesters, Maesters, and Acolytes, Daemon would be seen to be friendly and to have shown no more interest to any of them than any other.
Now that he had all he'd needed from this place, he said his goodbyes, asked for copies of the three books to be sent to him and he, Jaime, and Arthur walked back through the Seneschal's Court and out into the Scribe's Hearth. Walking through the open courtyard, he stopped by the statues of The Conciliator and the Young Dragon, paying them his respects, before then making his way to Weeping Dock. They were stopped by more than one person on the way there, Daemon speaking to them and telling them to their delight that yes, they'd see Lyanax soon. The Black Dragon was resting some distance off but he'd have her fly low over the Citadel on her way to meet him on the Bloody Isle.
"Your grace?" Arthur asked when they made it to the small boat whose owner stood rigid as he tried to see if he was indeed looking at the King of the Seven Kingdoms, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and one of the most famed knights in all the land.
"Be at peace, Ser Arthur, it's bloody work we've come to do and I can think of no place better than there to do so," he said pointing to the island in the distance.
He then paid the boatman the equivalent of a gold dragon to take them to the island and the man thanked him profusely. When they arrived, he was pleased to find they were almost alone and soon enough they indeed were. Daemon set about building a fire and took a seat in front of it. His eyes looked into the flames and yet it was not answers that he sought from it, not yet. Instead, he was simply focussing his mind on the task to come. Sensing just how confused and wary both his companions were, he thought it for the best if he explained as much of what was to occur as he could.
"I wished them not to know my intent, Arthur, Ser Jaime. For when they rise on the morrow, not all of them will be doing so. Six names, Creylen gave me and I know who they are now. When night falls they'll find out the truth of the words those who follow R'hllor speak often."
"Words, your grace?" Jaime asked.
"The night is dark and full of terrors, Ser Jaime, and tonight those terrors have a thirst for blood."
Lyanax arrived sometime later and Daemon spent quite a while speaking to her. Both she and he could feel that they'd be flying into battle again soon and yet, for now, she was eager to fly to the Isle of Faces and to see if they could indeed find a fourth ruby. Where Caraxes had fallen, that was what he'd been told and he knew now, or at least he believed that he knew just where that was. Four it would take for red eyes, and for some reason, Daemon was now almost certain it would be red eyes that he'd need shut next.
"It's time, do not fear what you're about to see, and know that you both and I are in no true danger," Daemon said to Arthur and Jaime as he knelt down, cut his hand, and gripped the rubies in his bloody palm.
The shadows came as he bid and both Arthur and Jaime went for their swords, only for a shake of his head to steady their hands. Both men looked on in disbelief as the shadows glided across the water like the wraiths they truly were and moved towards the Weeping Dock and the Citadel itself. Closing his eyes, Daemon watched as each of the six men suffered greatly in their final moments. Their screams went unheard or unanswered and though their deaths had been bloody, to all who looked upon them on the morrow they'd seem to have died peacefully in their sleep. Questions may be asked, but no cause of death that would name it murder would be found. Not that this was murder as such, this was an execution in all but name.
"Be not alarmed by the sounds you hear this night, for there is a price to pay and it's one I pay most gladly," he said rising to his feet once it was done.
Later, he screamed as loudly as the men who'd been killed had screamed. The shadows took their due and when he woke the next morning, he staggered to the still-burning fire. It was Arthur who tried to stop him when he thrust his hand into the fire. Daemon had to shout at him so he wouldn't do so which awakened Jaime, though just as he'd finished.
"The price has been paid and I feel naught from the fire, my god's favor makes it so," he said, though there was more to it, more he could explain. Yet telling Arthur that this was a gift that R'hllor had given him so that he could withstand what the shadows took from him when they were called, was not yet something the man was ready to hear.
They broke their fast and he ate heartily. He told Jaime that it was done, that none but they now knew the truth and none would ever speak of it again. Daemon didn't look back at Oldtown as they flew away from the Bloody Isle, nor to the Citadel, and by the time they were flying over Honeyholt, he wasn't even giving anyone there a second thought. Instead, it was the fourth ruby, it was red eyes and a battle to come and it was seeing his brother once more. Soon he and Drogo would ride into battle together and together they'd shut red eyes for true.
"Your will be done, R'hllor," he whispered softly and he felt his god's joy and pride at his words.