Main Content
Archive of Our OwnArchive of Our OwnHi, TheBrimmedHat!PostLog Out
FandomsBrowseSearchAboutWork Search
tip: lex m/m (mature OR explicit)
Actions
Entire Work ← Previous Chapter Chapter Index Bookmark Mark for Later Comments Share Download
Work Header
Rating:
Teen And Up Audiences
Archive Warnings:
Graphic Depictions Of ViolenceMajor Character Death
Fandoms:
Game of Thrones (TV)A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. MartinA Song of Ice and Fire & Related FandomsHouse of the Dragon (TV)幼女戦記 | Youjo Senki | Saga of Tanya the Evil - Carlo Zen (Light Novels)幼女戦記 | Youjo Senki | Saga of Tanya the Evil (Anime)
Characters:
Tanya von DegurechaffViserys I TargaryenRhaenyra TargaryenSyrax | Rhaenyra Targaryen's DragonAlicent HightowerOtto HightowerAegon II TargaryenLaenor Velaryon
Additional Tags:
WarOriginally Posted Elsewhere
Language:
English
Stats:
Published:2024-02-24Updated:2026-09-01Words:337,495Chapters:61/?Comments:1,911Kudos:4,289Bookmarks:1,211Hits:257,116
A Young Woman's Inevitable Dance of the Dragons
Failninjaninja
Chapter 61
Chapter Text
HUGE thank you to @MARch_Of_Time for their proofreading, plot sounding board help, and of course enhancements to the story!
Chapter 61
"If the devil exists, it has to be our instructor, the commander of the 203rd Aerial Mage Assault Battalion, the legendary Major von Degurechaff." -From the Saga of Tanya the Evil Vol. 2
Daeron had been summoned to Oldtown and was now in Lord Ormund Hightower's solar. His cousin's eldest, Lyonel, was there as well.
"Prince Daeron, I have news that will aggrieve you, but we have little time for proper mourning."
His chest tightened. News of grief could mean that someone in his family was hurt or dead. He took his seat and waited.
"Your father, King Viserys, is dead. It happened about a week ago, though officially it is only some days."
Daeron lowered his head and said a prayer to the Father for justice. He had misliked the way his father had not ruled with the truth and decency the Seven would have wanted him to uphold. Yet, he had still been Daeron's father, absent though he often was. His soul was in the hands of the Father now and no earthly judgement mattered.
"I mislike the implication, why is there a difference between the hour of his passing and what will be told to the people?"
Ormund clicked his tongue with a sharp tsk.
"You have a keen mind, my prince. Use it."
Daeron only needed a moment.
"Time. Time to inform my brother's supporters that now is the time to convince their peers that Rhaenyra must not be allowed to rule."
"Aye," Lyonel said, "the whore of Dragonstone and her bastards cannot be allowed to make a mockery of the Seven Kingdoms."
Lyonel adopted a firm look and nodded to Daeron from his seat. The young heir was of a similar age to the prince, but still seemed to give the impression of being more a boy than a man.
Daeron made no comment. He had made an oath before the Seven and would not violate it, though the truth of Rhaenyra's children would be what drove him. The Seven would surely see the realm cursed if a bastard inherited. Let alone the countless other vile bastards such a thing would embolden over time.
"Yes, time." Lord Ormund mused. "Time to strike. If all went as planned, a number of the Blacks should have died in the night, though we will not know for certain for days."
Daeron blinked in surprise. "You mean war has already begun?"
"Aye, my uncle can count dragons. Simply declaring Aegon the rightful king will not make people forget their fear of the Dark Storm. Your brother Aemond will strike the first blow, as will assassins in Tyrosh and Driftmark."
"This is dishonorable. No good can come from evil means. The Seven-Pointed Star states–"
"It's already done, Daeron," Ormund interrupted. "The time for discourse and rhetoric on what septons would have us do is already done. It was not my hand that sent them, but the Hand. Do not hector me for the actions of another."
"As you say," Daeron replied, though he was not happy. He would have words with his grandfather and his brothers. Their cause was just, but now they risk the favor of the Seven by acting in the way Rhaenyra would. "Then am I to fly to King's Landing?"
"No, my prince. Uncle Otto could not foresee how successful the attacks would be. A coin flip on three battle fronts. Tyrosh, Dragonstone, and Driftmark. What do you think will happen with a partial success? Would the Blacks fly to King's Landing and fight one great battle?"
Daeron thought it was possible. If the Dark Storm was able to, he would no doubt set the capital ablaze with his wrath. Daemon might as well, though the Rogue Prince was most like more restrained, ruled instead by his avarice and petty greed, and so vying to control the capital for his own ends. The Dark Storm's bottomless lust for slaughter would indulge in annihilating King's Landing for the mere sake of it.
More still, the Blacks would need some force, perhaps the Velaryons and the lords loyal to them near the capital. Only the worst sort of idiot could think to try and take a fortress or city with just dragons and dragon riders. Burn it? Yes. Attempt to force a surrender or take hostages? Perhaps with great fortune. Capture from a committed foe? Never.
Not even a mummer's tale would be so absurd to even suggest such a foolish notion. Rhaenyra would not wish to be the ruler of ashes; she would want to take the city whole if possible.
"It depends on the success, but they might wait and gather their strength. Nothing is certain. Are my siblings all there to protect it?"
"Otto's plans have Silverwing joining Sunfyre, Vermithor, and Dreamfyre. So what then if the Blacks crave vengeance, but they are not in position to immediately strike and secure King's Landing?"
Daeron understood.
"They will seek vengeance on who they believe their chief enemy is. They will come here to Oldtown. They will not care to hold it, but will bring fire and ruin. But… would even they wish to risk the Starry Sept and the Citadel?"
Ormond nodded. "They would. They care not for the Seven or they would not have done all that they do. Your family pays lip service to the true gods. Unless your grandfather has achieved victory in one fell swoop, he thinks their counterstroke will fall here. Perhaps Vhagar and Caraxes will fill the skies. Or worse, Seasmoke and Meleys. We will muster an army from our allies, but they will not arrive in time. So what advantage do we have?"
"The righteousness of our cause. I know I am not the equal of Laenor or Daemon, but they serve the cause of the Seven Hells. The Warrior will guide my hand."
He believed that. But he also believed that he would die doing so. He would be a martyr for the cause of the Seven. It pained him that he would never sire children with Patricia, but he was no craven. He would not flee and abandon the Starry Sept, nor his kin.
Lyonel laughed and Ormund gave his son a disappointed look. "He is still your prince, and if the Lord Hand has miscalculated, it may well be Daeron who is our next King. Do not disgrace Oldtown."
"My apologies," Lyonel responded stiffly. Daeron knew him newly knighted and full of himself.
Ormund turned back to Daeron. "Daeron, none doubt your courage, but in this, we too have made plans. We have scorpions from Myr and sellswords from the Summer Isles. Your task, should the Blacks come, is not to defeat them with your dragon, but to lure them with your dragon to prepared places within the city."
Ormund unfurled a highly detailed map of Oldtown. He pointed to certain spots marked.
"Here, and here. Scorpions, well hidden, but should a dragon come within the right distance in pursuit of you, they will have the perfect chance simply to loose their bolts directly onto any who pursue you. You will have to survive until you can fly into position, and we must trust our knights to keep their courage, but this is the best chance to slay a dragon."
He pointed to other spots. "The famed golden heart bows will be put to use in these spots. They are less for the dragon and more for the rider. Tessarion is swift and agile, while the likes of Vhagar are slow and ponderous. I have been assured it will not be difficult, if the dragon descends enough, for them to make the shot on a rider." His cousin shrugged. "They will also try for the eyes, but it is much more difficult, and should the dragon naturally blink, their shafts will probably amount to naught."
Daeron shook his head ruefully. He was not there to be some incarnation of the Warrior, but as a lure like a fisherman's worm. It was… dissatisfying, but a well-enough reasoned plan. Ormund went on to explain that additional scorpions were placed on ships in the harbor, but that was a far less likely shot to be made. Yet the possibility existed. After all, the Triarchy had resisted a young Laenor and Daemon in his prime for years, but the odds of striking a flying dragon from a ship... were abysmal.
As they discussed battle strategies, one concern rose.
"Winter Fever is still a concern; how will we stop its spread if we muster in Oldtown?"
Ormund waved it aside. "Precautions appear to be working, but to be safe they will camp outside of the walls. Best as well so men aren't tempted to drink and quarrel with our people. Oldtown is a place of learning, of the faith, and of dignified trade. The roused and mustered smallfolk from elsewhere shouldn't dirty our streets."
Elaena will not be happy about this. The consequences of the Fever devastating cities and centers of trade... she warned us all of the horrors. When the Shivers ravaged Oldtown many decades ago, a quarter of the city perished. And now that this sickness has already taken our father, she would loathe its spread even fiercer.
She would surely be stricken with grief over the loss of their father. While Daeron felt little love in his heart for King Viserys, he would mourn in his own way as was fit for a son and prince. It was different with Elaena. She was always the apple of his eye and he sent a prayer to the Mother to provide his sweet sister some comfort in her grief.
***
Kevan felt he was missing something as he and his wife, the children, and the most trustworthy Knights of Victory rode on toward their destination.
He strung together words in his mind, one after another, attempting to ascertain what it truly was that he wanted to articulate. His patience did not feel prodded overmuch, nor urge him greatly to breach the peaceful atmosphere and sate his curiosity.
It was more difficult for his heart than his mind, for a part of him was content to watch the effortlessly captivating sight of gentle breezes catching Elaena's hair as she rode, shifting those bright silver-gold threads in the light and fluttering them around her pristine features.
After a time it felt right, and he decided on a simple and direct approach. The kind that Elaena happened to most oft appreciate from him, or perhaps just especially from him.
"Elaena, my love, I don't understand. You've enacted your Bunker Protocol, but why are you leaving? Your father has commanded you to remain here."
His wife nodded while shifting her mount just that little bit closer to his side, the very forested path around them still seeming to frame her beauty. Were it not for the circumstances, a calm ride through the countryside would have been a welcome break and affectionate evening for the two of them to share.
Alas, when her bright blue eyes caught his, her gaze felt as if it rested on faraway thoughts, though her voice remained present and authoritative while she spoke, "He has, but a move against Silvervale has occurred; he needs to know sooner than later. Over long distances dragons tend not to be able to fly as far or as fast as a raven, but Viktoriya is the exception. The only reason I have tarried so long is to make sure you are all safely ensconced before I depart."
When she got this way, there was no use in denying her. Kevan had long ago learned that his brilliant wife could be as stubborn as any lord, and twice as difficult to sway. Her maid had been slain by an assassin, but Elaena had insisted that no one be told, and that word would be spread that she had gone missing.
He could see it in her eyes, the way certainty arose when she crafted particular decisions or far-reaching plans, and over time he had grown more comfortable interpreting the degrees of conviction behind her various actions. When she felt most unsteady, when she wanted him to think through a problem with her, when she wanted pass off a project to another to handle details, when she wanted to hear objections and then consider or mitigate them.
And when she would not be moved, most like when she was acting on knowledge she would or could not share. She had told him as much from the start.
All her endeavors always turned out to the good, but he still wished to understand, as much and wherever he could. That those eyes of hers could look back at him with earnest interest and a questioning glint, it never failed to give shape to the want he felt in his heart, the want to understand the one he loved.
"Walda is dead, and I believe I was the target. I may be wrong, but I will speak with my father directly."
"But is all this necessary? I am aggrieved as well; she was always kind and dutiful, but we have so much security in Silvervale itself." Kevan peered directly into her gaze, watching as her focus returned more and more to him, before asking once again, "Is this truly necessary?"
He emphasized his words to convey the weight of his meaning. What Elaena considered necessary in this... carried certain implications that Kevan would want time to properly steel his heart for. He had long ago promised himself and the King, her father, that he would not restrain his ruthlessness in protection of her, of their children together. And the Bunker was always meant as a final bastion against her own kin, dragonriders.
"I would rather not take chances. Perhaps I am overreacting in the extreme, but if that is the case, you will just have to forgive me – later."
"There is nothing to forgive, however this turns out," Kevan promised.
Kevan knew their likely-foes, then. They had met many a time, and he was even fond of many of his wife's family. But if there was to be a need... he would bloody his hands for the sake of hers.
After a lengthy ride out of the city, Elaena took the time to fly on her dragon and ensure no one had followed them. Other riders acted as trailbreakers and set trails toward the Tooth or elsewhere. It was nearing dusk when they arrived at the 'bunker' as his wife had so long ago dubbed it.
Kevan had reviewed the bunker within Silvervale and had expected something similar. Instead, the entrance appeared little more than a weathered cleft in the rock. It was easily obscured by the natural contours of the land. A handful of Knights of Victory, some of the earliest and most trusted, were with his family.
Upon entry he came to the first chamber, which was larger than he expected. The room held little furnishings but had several chests among other valuables. Bundles of silk, tapestries, and silver-lined mirrors dominated the room. Elaena looked at them and then opened one of the chests, taking a handful and scattering a few of the silver coins onto the floor.
"Perfect."
"This gives us coin, but I don't see any larders or beds…" Kevan said with some confusion.
"It is a decoy for if someone should spot the entrance. If they do discover it they will enjoy these treasures and then be gone."
She walked smoothly to the rear wall and felt around for a moment. Kevan felt… something in the air for an instant and little Alys pressed against him for a moment. Elaena pushed hard on a specific section of the wall, letting loose the rare grunt of effort, and some hidden compartment moved. Stone ground upon stone and a hidden chamber revealed itself. Once again, Kevan was shocked that it contained even more valuables.
"Is that a dragon egg?"
"It is, but not one that will hatch. It has turned to stone, but it seemed as good a place as any to serve one final purpose."
Pearls and rare gems were piled around the dragon egg as well as a portrait of the Dark Storm holding the head of a Triarchy pirate. Kevan was impressed with the portrait and the stormy backdrop it was set upon. He suspected Laenor would think it overdone, for his tastes ran more subtle. Once more, Elaena found what she was looking for in the shadow of a hanging rock. She showed him how it worked and where pressure would cause the floor to yield.
It would take me days to find it if someone had told me there was some hidden device here.
It led to a stout iron ladder that they descended. Elaena taking Alys in her own arms for it. He could feel air as he climbed down rung after rung until he reached the bottom.
"There is a breeze," he marveled.
"There are complex shafts cut through the mountain," Elaena explained. "Hidden amongst the rocks high above. Fresh air comes in continually, and poor air gets trapped in special pockets."
Sleeping chambers lined one wall, each with sturdy beds. Nearby sat a well-stocked kitchen. Pantries filled with preserved meats, dried fruit, grain, and salt. There was enough lamp oil and candles that darkness could be kept at bay for weeks, if not months. Past the kitchen bubbled a small spring. Kevan laughed in bemused delight. Leave it to the Realm's Blessing, his wife who ever strove for perfection, to have thought of everything!
"There are three ways to exit this place. The way we entered is one. The other is through a long tunnel that leads to Silvervale itself. However, the mechanism to open that path exists on this end, and once used it will not shut again without great effort. It will be impossible to open on the Silvervale side without the work of many men for many days, if it can even be found, which is unlikely as it opens near the sewer system. Not a place many would wish to grope in the dark for a passage."
"And the third?"
"A tunnel scarcely wide enough for a child. If every other defense fails… if this place is discovered and Silvervale imperiled, then Fraedrik and Alys can slip through it. Only a small child can go through the narrow tunnel."
She showed it to their children and told them of the need to use it only in the worst of straits, as Kevan and the others could not follow them through it.
"It will be dark, and it will seem as if it goes forever, but it has an end and will let you out near some trees."
Elaena then said her goodbyes. Kevan watched as she gathered their daughter into her arms. He sorely wished he had the words to convince her not to go, but he had to trust that this was for the best. Her father would understand. The King loved Elaena best, and though he might be wroth, he would not stay angry at his favorite child.
And she is his favorite. How could she not be?
Elaena whispered to their young daughter in her arms.
"My light, listen to your father. I hope to return in a fortnight, perhaps less depending on the weather."
She turned to her son.
"You are growing swiftly, and here you can continue to train. Do not balk at your mathematics training. You know it not yet, but it is the key to much. Listen to your father and keep your bond at bay. You and Grey Ghost are connected. Will him not to try searching for you. And though he is well-suited for stealth, I do not want a dragon flying around this hidden place."
"Yes, Mother. Do not be long, please. I like flying him every day and he will miss it."
"He will indeed, as will you, but I must know you are all secure. These precautions are necessary and you will bear them for me, won't you?"
"Yes, and I will practice hard with my numbers."
She hugged them both. "I love you very much."
She paused one final time to stroke Fraedrik's cheek, an almost hesitant expression upon her face before offering a final advice, "I have taught you the strength of discipline, and trust that you know how to endure. But... if the yearning to fly truly does grow too great, concentrate on that yearning when you try to sleep, and will Grey Ghost to hunt. Your sleep may improve and dreams may grant a measure of reprieve."
Hearing those words and watching how his own son nodded seriously at them, Kevan merely shook his own head. Due to the bond dragonriders shared with their dragon, they lived in a world of experiences apart and above from what men like him could properly relate to, and he loved the two he called his own dearly.
The children were soon settled and Elaena embraced Kevan.
"I will return in no later than a month's time at the most."
"A month?"
"At the most, my dear. Since I will already be out, it would behoove me to check on how the Seven Kingdoms fare with Winter Fever."
He frowned. "That still puts you at risk."
She smiled, and gods was it a stunning smile, brimming with satisfaction and pride and more still. "No, I've become immune. I suspect it may be my Targaryen blood, so I must ensure I have no trace of the disease on me for days before I return to you. You have all that you need here, just promise me that you won't try to leave before I return."
"I swear it, my love."
Not all that I need, as you won't be here.
He held her close for several long moments, and though she stirred, he embraced her tighter for a few more precious seconds before finally letting her go.
***
"My lady, even with your charms, you will not sway me."
Forrest looked at his loving wife. She was, in truth, the very reason he yet drew breath. Unlike other women of the court, she was skilled in all manner of arms. When the assassins had struck, they had turned their back on Sabitha and paid the price for it.
It seems I have been blessed by the gods. I have ridden a dragon and married a tremendous woman besides. I helped found a new city, had a chance to woo two princesses, and made stout friends. Their blessings continue, for they have given me a wife who shields me from harm. Now, the time has come where I must honor my house's vows.
"My love, I do not ask anything more of you than to wait. You were nearly killed less than a day ago and this morn the ravens come declaring Aegon the King. If they sent blades in the dark for you, what do you think may have happened to Aegon's half-siblings?"
Forrest nodded rapidly. "My point exactly! How could I bend my knee to a King who would act in this fashion? A man who sends assassins is a man who would also lie and swear falsely. The letter states King Viserys told his wife and his Kingsguard that he chose Aegon to rule instead of Rhaenyra. But are we to believe it? I do not."
Sabitha groaned in frustration. "We do not know you hot-headed fool!"
Forrest just smiled at the insult, taking no offense.
She shook her head at failing to gain a rise from him.
"If you respond as you intend, declaring yourself loyal to Rhaenyra before even knowing if she yet lives, you may well doom our house. Lest you forget, we are sworn to House Tully. Kermit, who will one day rule, is married to the Greens. Daenora will hardly side with her half-sister over her full-blooded brother!"
Forrest shrugged. "What of it? The Lords of the Crossing before me swore House Frey to Rhaenyra as the next Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. I will abide by that oath."
Sabitha kissed Forrest. "My lord… what if Rhaenyra intends to bend the knee. Or if she is no more, what if her son does? Why not wait until we have heard word from Dragonstone?"
"Someone must be first. Someone must stand with honor and say what they know is true. Mayhaps it will give courage to others to do the same. Should Rhaenyra not raise her banners and instead accept the rule of Aegon, then we will of course follow likewise. But I cannot imagine her doing so if she too was targeted by cravens in the night."
Sabitha cupped his cheeks and looked him in the eyes.
"And if the Westerlands sides with Aegon? If the Tullys? Would you wage war against Riverrun and Silvervale? Your direct liege and your friends? One way or another, oaths and bonds will be broken."
Forrest met her gaze for a moment, but then looked away, uncertain for once.
"Though it would pain me… I must do what I must."
"Even if it brings dragons to burn the Crossing? To burn me?"
Forrest's expression steeled.
"Ample reason for you to go somewhere safe…"
"I will not go."
Forrest nodded. He would not force her.
"If it comes to pass that dragons darken our skies we will see what Heart's Desire can do."
The mighty bow made of dragon bone he had named was apart from other bows in the way a King was apart from the smallfolk. A stallion from a foal. A sword form a stick. The weirwood arrows he had been gifted by one of Sabitha's friends were etched in tiny scripts that gave them a sense of queerness he could not place. Though the arrowpoints had to be replaced at times, the hafts had yet to break or become worn from repeated use. Could he bring down a dragon with a quiver full of arrows and the greatest bow in the world? He prayed he did not have to find out, for either answer was a tragedy in its own way, but if it meant keeping his people and his wife safe, he would.
Sabitha lowered her gaze. "This is a mistake, but you are the Lord of the Crossing."
Forrest hated disappointing her, but in his heart this felt right. He would declare his allegiance to Queen Rhaenyra and repudiate the craven attack on his person. The lords would know that he was not cowed, and all would understand why Lord Frey was first to rise.
Naturally, ravens would go out to King's Landing, Dragonstone, Driftmark, and Riverrun. But they would also go out to Tyrosh, Harvest Hall, Castle Black, and Honeyholt. He knew not if the raven to the Night's Watch would make it into the hands of Ser Manderly, or if the bold knight even still lived, but it would be sent regardless.
House Frey would hold to its oaths, to the King and his Heir.
***
The Starks always spoke of winter coming. Where are they now?
Jessamyn Redfort hated how her thoughts were on intrigue and war instead of grief. She had been so careful. Done all she could. And yet the woman she loved was dead and the world was going to be ripped asunder. She would never hold her in her arms again or dine together and share jests and stories. The gods were cruel.
The Maester looked at her with pity.
"My lady, the silent sisters must be informed and her body prepared. We all grieve, but duty requires the succession be handled swiftly. King's Landing has sent word and demands fealty to Aegon from the Vale, and it is not your place to make that decision for House Arryn."
Jessamyn felt the heat of her boiling blood. She knew what had transpired. The King was dead, and before the ravens had even arrived, her lover was assassinated? Viserys had dragged Jeyne to her death all those years ago by foisting Rhaenyra on her. Now his son clears the way for his succession. Isembard Arryn sat on the small council and she knew he would not back Ser Joffrey Arryn. Jessamyn knew that the young knight and distant cousin was one of the few relatives Jeyne had ever cherished, but would the Lords of the Vale accept him?
"And if Lady Arryn were not dead? Just wounded and in your care?"
"Grief is a terrible thing…"
You old fool.
When two of Jessamyn's most trusted guards came in and took the man by the arms, understanding came to his wrinkled features.
"You cannot do this! What madness is this?"
"Madness? Perhaps it is, but the Eyrie has few visitors. People know of the attack, they know of you coming to try to treat her, but that is all anyone will know. Lady Arryn has been grievously wounded. You will write as such in your own hand or you will be shown through the Moon Door."
The Maester's jaw worked. "This is usurpation. You are no Arryn! Do not let your house be shamed by grief madness." He turned his head to the armored man on his left, "And you, you are a sworn knight. Unhand me!"
The knight in question was loyal to her and did not respond to the Maester's urgings.
"This cannot be kept secret forever, but long enough for my vengeance to take place. I will not let Isembard Arryn rule the Vale after he was a party to this."
"You know not if he even truly was!"
She looked at him with contempt. The patterns were there for everyone to see. The Gilded Falcon had wormed his way to the small council and was one of the few lords within the Vale who had a network of little ears. Who else could have arranged this assassination? This was not the work of a stranger, but one in the employ of the house for years.
"Words are wind. You will write what I have bid and then you will be confined. Your confinement can be in an unused wing where you will be given the meals you have always received, or it can be in the Sky Cells. Choose."
There was no life left in her sweet Jeyne. Whatever animating force made Jeyne, Jeyne, was gone. That her body would not be prepared according to the customs of the Seven and her house would make most feel guilty, but not Jessamyn. She knew nothing of Jeyne remained within the flesh, so what did it matter?
I will avenge you, my love. Even if the Vale has to burn.
***
Ser Criston pushed the man toward the guards of the Black Cells. His white cloak, with some of Otto's spattered blood still staining it, swirled about his legs as he walked.
"I'm loyal, ser, please! I've been loyal to the Queen, to the Hand!"
It was probably true, but the purge had begun. Aegon had murdered his grandfather and seemed quite unstable still. The Master of Whisperers had tried to resign and be sent to the Night's Watch, but Aegon had refused, stating that he needed to remain at his post so he could fully understand what had been done.
That man makes my skin crawl. How is it that he had a hand in the assassination of Elaena, but now Aegon trusts him?
Larys had confessed Otto's 'betrayal' and allowed justice, such that it was, to be enacted. It had won him some reprieve. The cripple's wish to remove himself from power and take the Black had also played a part. Criston would never believe Larys ever intended serve out a sentence at the Wall. No, he most likely said it for fear of Aegon's wrath, with his own helpers ready to see him well away once he left King's Landing on the journey north.
Regardless, all of Otto's most loyal and trusted guards, servants, and agents were being rounded up. Aegon had given him the duty to assist, until the new King could 'determine what his fate would be' and mete it out. Ser Criston felt a pang of worry over that, but if the Seven had seen fit to spare him from Winter Fever he could not imagine his King would see him executed or given to the Night's Watch. The plague had struck down so many, but not him. That could only mean that he was being saved for a higher purpose than an ignoble death or disgrace.
The ravens had taken to wing before Aegon was even informed of his father's passing, and now came the difficult consideration of what to do. The King knew that, for the sake of his family, he had to press his claim. Seasmoke was dead, and probably several other prominent Black faction members. Sending new ravens that claimed he had no part in it and that Otto acted on his own would disgrace the Hightowers, show him as weak, and bring ruin. Larys had advised that they shouldn't even let it be known that Aegon slew the former Hand, lest he be called a kinslayer.
As he considered the recent events, the newly raised guards and Gold Cloak officers checked in with him, confirming the arrests. Criston spied Aemond heading for the exit of the Red Keep.
"My prince, where are you going?"
Aemond turned his head to speak, but his hands flexed by his side and he kept walking, forcing Criston to follow his steps.
"Patrol. By now, Princess Rhaenys, if she survived, will be with my half-sister. Syrax, Meleys, and at least three lesser dragons could do much harm to King's Landing if we are caught off guard. My brother does not wish our sister to take to the skies, so it falls to me to keep the watch."
The morning's events still weighed heavily on Criston as the sun reached its zenith in the sky.
"Have you not had any rest?"
"I need none for this," Aemond said in response, his usual arrogance muted with clear worry.
"Has the King given further word of what he will do? A funeral for his father? What is to be done about the death of the Hand?"
Aemond looked vexed. "Our King is beset by his failures and fears. After resolving a matter with proper haste, he waffles."
Criston bowed his head. "He regrets what he has done?"
A bitter laugh erupted from Aemond's mouth.
"The killing of that vain, stupid wretch? No, not even Aegon is that weak. He grieves his loss of restraint. That he acted without thinking and without self-control. Otto signed his death warrant as soon as he signed Elaena's. Aegon does not mourn him, he is but questioning his suitability for the throne after giving way to his fury."
Criston looked at the prince in horror. This was not the time for such doubts. If Aegon abdicated, then rule would fall to Prince Jaehaerys, who would need a regency. Lords would not understand why Aegon was stepping down and doubt the fitness of his chosen successor. And who would act as the King Regent? Aemond? Criston had nothing but respect for Aemond's valor, strength in arms, and dragon lore, but the man spat on the Seven.
"I must speak with him."
"As you will, but I suspect nothing but the greatest of fortunes will raise his spirits. The only further raven that has been dispatched has been to Silvervale. If my sister has succumbed to Otto's madness…"
As his own words trailed off, Aemond paused briefly under the arch of Red Keep's outer gates, looking up to the sky while the shadows of the wall fell half across his face. The blankness of his expression and the silent sense of contemplation in his eyes disturbed Criston far more than the prince's ire and vitriol.
The Kingsguard swallowed heavily. "Does the King still hope for the impossible? When Larys said it was a Faceless Man who had been sent… Gods be good why would he have wasted such a tool on her?"
Criston felt his heartbeat increase as Aemond's face contorted and his body shifted.
The brothers are more alike than either would wish to acknowledge.
"I've no time to educate you, Cole. My good-brother was never a fitting match for someone with the grace and lineage of Elaena, but he does adore her. Silvervale is well-guarded, with protections in place that rival even the Red Keep. Ser Kevan may not be much with the blade, but he would gladly give his life instantly for my sister. Word was sent to the assassin by raven as to the timing, but ravens only reach their mark forty-nine times out of fifty. And more…" the prince shook his head. "I believe I would know if one of the true lights in the world had left it. Somehow. How could I not feel it if her light had truly gone out? But-"
The prince halted himself with a heavy inhale, then let loose his breath through his bared teeth in one long and steady gust. His fingers crackled as he clenched his fists and then relaxed them.
"But I swear to you Cole, if she has been killed, every living being in Braavos will die."
With those words Aemond stalked off and Criston understood that these were no vain boasts. The prince would truly murder every man, woman, and child in the city. As to whether Elaena survived, it might stabilize the King, but Silvervale had two dragons. The boy dragonrider would likely not be used in war, but his dragon was of dangerous size. Everything teetered toward ruin and madness, and as Criston went to advise his King, he had no idea what he would say.
Actions
↑ Top ← Previous Chapter Bookmark Comments (39)
Kudos
shinyaaan, ioigtam, TheHydra77, Pmaestro, Lizard_31, Eyvindur, Rachel67, Seabass_Da_Fish, Fabio002, lord_ibau, LurkingSolo, Deras_Calhoun, Niesmiesznyhumor, Tostarelhes, FabioHenrique, xawang, AMediaStella, Not_So_Dark_One, ASHOFJOY, Jameslee, MagnusD, MISTER_F, Elinci, YAMBA, HongoEn, Prussia1991, Skaag, diantherkive, TheVagebond, Genderfluid_simp, Ao3sided70, Aelinmanon, purrrkitty, GaymerLuka, Red_delvina, MediocreImagination_9273, Yigret, Petrichor_Pigeon, Aria17, May_never_comes, Elslashmore, Ricecakesali, shrenikshah356, hs13678615977, The_Unwise_Mortal, MyDudeFoo, LemonShader, Marksf003, traeus, diaddict, and 1928 more users as well as 2311 guests left kudos on this work!
Comments
Post Comment
Comment as TheBrimmedHat
Plain text with limited HTML ?
Comment
10000 characters left
Footer
Customize
Default
Low Vision Default
Reversi
Snow Blue
About the Archive
Site Map
Diversity Statement
Terms of Service
Content Policy
Privacy Policy
DMCA & TIDA Policies
Site Status
Contact Us
Policy Questions & Abuse Reports
Technical Support & Feedback
Development
otwarchive v1.6.0.3
Known Issues
GPL-2.0-or-later by the OTW