Shit!
Tywin's heart skipped a beat. He cursed internally, not expecting kid to get back so damn fast.
Red Keep gates.
Boom— Caraxes slammed his hind legs into ground, his massive body kicking up a cloud of dust. sheer, oppressive weight of his presence forced city guards to back away.
It had only been two short months since Tourney at Harrenhal, but his size had already exploded.
Daeron hopped off dragon's back, his silhouette cutting through settling dust.
Moment guards saw him, they swallowed their fear of dragon and happily cranked gates open.
"Prince!"
Ser Gerold rushed over after hearing commotion.
Right behind him was Jaime, decked out in silver armor and a white cloak.
Daeron walked forward, his face deadpan. He let his eyes linger a second longer on sword hanging at 'White Bull's' waist.
"Valyrian steel sword... Vigilance?"
It was a standard hand-and-a-half sword. Even sheathed, blistering aura of Valyrian steel gave away its immense value.
Ser Gerold gripped his ancestral sword, Vigilance, and said, "Prince, a lot has changed in King's Landing since you left."
"That's exactly why I'm back."
Daeron didn't break stride, heading straight for Maegor's Holdfast.
Caraxes tracked his rider with his molten-gold, slitted eyes before flapping his wings and taking off, circling high above Red Keep.
A moment later. Throne Room.
With his second son returning on dragonback, Aerys was back to throwing his weight around. He sat high on Iron Throne, a gleaming gold crown on his head.
Down below Iron Throne, three Kingsguard stood in a row.
Tywin stood on right side of hall, flanked by his Lannister lapdogs.
Lord Owen mingled with Small Council members on left, keeping a cautious eye on Hand across room.
Boom. Heavy doors slowly pushed open.
Midday sun spilled in. Daeron walked through play of light and shadow—dressed in black, silver hair catching light, his purple eyes ice-cold.
Step, step, step—
As he stepped down from towering staircase, a crowd of figures filed in right behind him.
Daeron led pack, his purple eyes glaring down every living soul in room.
Ser Barristan and Ser Jon, clad in silver armor and white cloaks, flanked him on left and right, sticking to him like glue.
He might have only been six feet tall, but he projected an aura twice that size.
Aerys broke into a massive grin and laughed loudly, "Boy, you finally made it back!"
Nobody paid him any attention.
Daeron swept his gaze over Lannister lapdogs before locking dead onto Tywin. His voice was cold. "Who gave Lannister army permission to enter city?"
Tywin kept his face deadpan. He wasn't about to accept a subordinate-style chewing out.
Lannisters had their own pride.
Daeron turned his head, spotting Prince Lewyn guarding base of Iron Throne. "Where is Elia?"
Hearing it was about his niece, Prince Lewyn replied, "I haven't been back in King's Landing long. I haven't seen her yet."
Haven't seen her. That meant she wasn't in King's Landing.
Daeron put pieces together. He looked back at arrogant Tywin and laid it out. "You have one hour to get Lannister soldiers out of King's Landing."
"Prince, watch your tone when speaking to Lord Hand!"
Tywin didn't say a word. His dog started barking first.
Daeron completely ignored him, doubling down. "One hour. I want King's Landing back to its original order."
When cat's away, mice play king.
He had only been gone from King's Landing for a little over a month, and Lannisters couldn't even hold themselves back, showing off ambitions they had no business having.
Perfect time to make an example out of them.
"Kid, are you giving me an order?"
Tywin narrowed his eyes, flashing a clear warning.
Daeron kept his voice flat. "Get your men out of King's Landing, and I'll let this slide."
City's defense was absolute bottom line. Anyone trying to slip sand into gears was begging for a fight.
Tywin was still useful. He had a chance to back down.
Tywin looked kid up and down.
After more than a month apart, Daeron's presence was even more overwhelming. His edge was fully exposed, no longer hiding a damn thing.
Tywin weighed his options for a second before speaking. "I moved my army into King's Landing to defend against a major threat. You honestly think City Watch can hold line on their own?"
Daeron didn't say a word. His patience was running on fumes.
"Aside from a personal guard to protect me, rest of army will camp five miles outside King's Landing. Iron Throne will provide supplies and logistics."
Tywin chose to step back, leaving room to negotiate.
Daeron wasn't here to haggle. He shut it down immediately. "All of them out of King's Landing. Camp ten miles away. And no one is taking responsibility for feeding your troops."
Knowing Tywin's 'won't shoot until he sees rabbit' mentality, Lannister soldiers wouldn't lift a finger until War of Usurper had a clear winner.
Get as far away as possible.
Tywin's face darkened. He was clearly pissed with that outcome.
His lapdog leaned in, whispering in his ear. "My Lord, without supplies, men won't leave."
Daeron shot him a glance. "And who hell are you?"
"I am an officer under Lord Tywin."
Amory Lorch's face was hidden under a half-helm. He grunted out his introduction.
"Amory?"
Daeron's expression turned intensely interesting.
Desperate to prove his loyalty, Amory stepped right up next to Tywin and barked, "That's right!"
"Perfect." Daeron smiled.
Tywin didn't have time to discipline his dog. He kept his voice low. "You heard him. If Iron Throne doesn't provide supplies, my soldiers go hungry."
It was a straight-up threat.
If soldiers go hungry, they find their own ways to eat.
He was going to use this leverage to solve his army's supply issue.
However, response he got wasn't what he expected.
Shing—!
Daeron's face turned to ice. He ripped Dark Sister from its scabbard, stepping forward with his right leg to anchor himself. Gripping hilt with both hands, he swung hard to left. In a split second, he sheared off top half of Amory Lorch's head.
Tywin just saw a blur. Hot blood splattered directly across his face, metallic, foul stench punching him right in nose.
Thud. Top half of Amory's head hit floor. His body was still standing, his perfectly intact lower jaw completely exposing his entire tongue.
A second later, body collapsed to ground, tongue still twitching wildly.
Daeron pulled Dark Sister back, casually wiping bloody blade clean on sleeve of Tywin's right arm. He said flatly, "He doesn't have to go hungry anymore."
Whoa!
Color drained from everyone's faces. entire hall erupted in absolute shock.
Ser Gerold and other two Kingsguard moved instantly, forming a wall in front of Iron Throne.
ministers went ghost-pale. No one ever expected someone to commit murder right in front of King, let alone butcher a Lannister man right in front of Hand.
"Fifty years."
Daeron sheathed sword, looking slightly disgusted. "First time she drinks blood, and it's this dirty."
"Dark Sister!!"
Aerys handled shock better than anyone else in room. He shot up from his seat, his eyes burning with intense greed as he locked onto sword in his second son's hand.
No mistake. There was absolutely no mistaking it!
It was one of two lost ancestral Valyrian steel swords of House Targaryen.
After a long, dead pause, Tywin finally snapped out of his shock. Thick blood dripped down his face. His voice gave away zero emotion. "Kid, you just killed my man."
"Yeah." Daeron's reaction was completely indifferent. "Next time, keep your dog on a leash. Good steel isn't made for butchering mutts."
Tywin took a deep breath. raw stench of blood hit back of his throat, forcing a harsh cough.
Stay calm!
He forced himself to stay perfectly calm. No rash moves. He wasn't going to throw all his hard work down drain.
Ten minutes later.
Dragon Gate.
Lannister army was marching right back out of King's Landing exactly same way they came in.
Tygett Lannister tried to keep a squad of personal guards in city to protect his older brother, but hit an immediate brick wall.
"Listen here, Lord Lannister. Take your men and get out. Every single one of them."
Alliser's words dripped with acid. He stood there, resting a hand on his light steel sword.
Tygett wasn't having it. "I am leaving a squad. Hand requires protection."
"Nope!"
Alliser shook his head, sneering. "King's Landing has Prince Daeron. It has his dragon. We don't need a pack of hyenas yapping and pissing all over streets."
Tygett lost his temper. He was ready to settle this with steel.
Bam!
Alliser snapped a kick right into man's knee. His lean, muscular frame immediately pivoted, his gold cloak flaring out, as he drove hilt of his sword directly into Tygett's face.
It wasn't just gap in mastering Vitality; difference in raw combat experience was night and day.
Alliser pulled back his light steel sword. He looked down at Lannister soldiers with absolute contempt. "I've seen enough for one day. Drag your commander back and patch him up before his arrogant face gets permanently ruined."
Lannister soldiers scrambled forward, hauling a dizzy and disoriented Tygett away.
Throne Room.
Daeron stood by window, personally watching Lannister army march out of King's Landing until last man was gone.
Killing Amory Lorch was about establishing absolute dominance.
On flip side, he just couldn't stomach sick shit bastard pulled.
In original timeline, during Sack of King's Landing, guy dragged a three-year-old girl from under a bed and stabbed her dozens of times, butchering her alive.
A monster like that didn't deserve to breathe same air as rest of them.
"Kid, are you satisfied now?"
Tywin's face was as dark as deep water. His voice was completely raspy.
That bright, glaring pool of blood was a glaring reminder of sheer, violent coercion he'd just been put through.
Daeron didn't even spare him a sideways glance.
With War of Usurper looming, every faction was about to go through absolute hell to tear out rot from within.
He could tolerate man, but that didn't mean he was going to let him play out his original script.
Whether Lannisters ended up as friends or enemies was entirely dependent on what Tywin did next.
Aerys looked like an absolute lunatic. He asked frantically, "Boy, is that sword in your hand Dark Sister?"
His second son had vanished over a month ago.
Did he travel all way to North just to track down ancestral sword taken by 'Bloodraven' Brynden?
Daeron still ignored him. He waved his hand, signaling his own crew to part.
Clad entirely in black, Maester Aemon stepped out. He waved off Davos, who was trying to support him, and leaned on his cane, walking slowly and steadily toward Iron Throne.
His eyes were bright. He squinted up at figure sitting on Iron Throne, overlapping it with a figure from his memories, drifting into a distant past.
Small Council members instantly went dead silent.
Seeing old man, a flicker of shock flashed in Aerys's eyes. His manic expression slowly smoothed out. He tilted his head, confused. "Is that you, Aemon Targaryen?"
"It is me, child."
Maester Aemon spoke softly.
He pulled himself out of his memories, staring at his younger brother Egg's grandson, overwhelmed with emotion.
Aerys looked deeply annoyed. "Maester, I am King!"
"Of course." Maester Aemon didn't argue. He said in his gentle whisper, "I should address you as Your Grace, and serve you for rest of my days."
"Serve?"
Aerys was completely lost.
Maester Aemon, acting like a patient teacher guiding a student, explained to his great-nephew how he had returned, and how he was going to write to Citadel, telling them to change their minds so he could take over as Grand Maester.
Aerys stayed quiet for a long time. Then he scratched his head and blurted, "Your teeth have practically all fallen out."
But surprisingly, he stayed completely calm and didn't shut old man down.
And just like that, Maester Aemon officially took on role of Grand Maester. Maester Harvy was bumped down to acting assistant to help him get up to speed with all Red Keep's business.
Targaryens reunited, and Lannisters were forced to eat dirt.
Everyone slowly filtered out of hall.