Chapter 5
GALEN
As the Royal guards escorted him to his home, he wondered if he had made a mistake going to the Blackwater Bay. If he had made a mistake by involving himself with the House of the Dragon, the very people who had robbed him of his life.
Galen was not fond of lies, but one lie he spoke often was about his own lineage. When people asked him about his parents, he lied about not knowing them. He spoke of his mother, the one who had saved his life and had helped him become the man that he was, but when the questions turned towards the woman who had birthed him and the man whose seed he was born to, he lied.
He feigned ignorance.
But he had always known.
He knew that his mother was a simple enough young maid of the Red Keep with a soft spot for the young librarian who was sworn to the faith, that in a night of innocent frivolity, both of them had let their passions control them as they both forgot the oaths of the man, and the burdens he bore.
By then, he was no longer a simple librarian. He had become perhaps the most powerful man in the realm. The simple son of the blacksmith, sworn to the faiths, had become the Hand of the King.
He often wondered what kind of man he was, to have impressed the King so much that he would make a no-name commoner his Hand. If he truly was as pious and pure as his mother claimed him to be, or did he ever know of what became of the naive young maid and his unborn child that he abandoned just to protect his honor?
The sad truth was that it had not been Barth who abandoned him and his mother. Not truly.
It was the King who had chosen to intervene, quietly removing his Hand's greatest shame from the capital. He handed the young maid a bag of gold coins, along with a proclamation that she was never to step foot in the capital or speak of that wretched night ever again.
What had followed afterwards was nothing but tragedy, both for that naive girl and him. Though he often tried not to think about it, for though his own life had been a tragedy, he had the strength to survive, yet there were thousands of others like him who had perished.
And as the guards escorted him through the bludgeoning Fleabottom, the crowd stirred for the people grew nervous as they saw the castle guards escorting him like a criminal.
The slum of Kingslanding may be lawless, but the people were not so thankless. Galen had been living here for a few years now, and in that time, he had helped all of them in one way or another.
He had healed them, their children, their parents, their nieces and nephews. He had done all that, while not asking them for a single gold coin, and as the people saw that he was not a simple quack trying to steal from them, they began to view him as one of their own.
They offered him what little they had—hard bread, boiled eggs, worn clothes. Those with more able bodies offered him protection, and those who had nothing to offer gave him their prayers.
And now, as they saw him being treated like a villain, they grew nervous. They may all love their King, but it had not been 'the Conciliator' who had come to their aid when their children were sick.
And as he reached his little home, a crowd had begun to form, making the guards around him nervous.
Morro, his self-appointed guard, stood at the door of his house ready to draw his sword, and Galen knew that he had to intervene lest things get out of control.
"Do not draw that blade, Morro," he warned, and the man listened to his advice as he turned towards the people.
"I am touched by your kindness, but you need not worry," and it was a woman who spoke up.
"But we heard that you were arrested! That they took you to the castle and claimed that you laid your hands on a Princess!" and one voice turned into a dozen.
"I heard that they beat you!" "Ulf even said that they plan to hang you for laying your hand on a Princess!"
"We can help you!" "Just say the wor..."
"Lies," Galen interrupted sharply, noticing one of the guards inching toward his blade, and knew tha the had to intervene lest the crowd turn violent.
"Those are all lies," and his words soothed the people as he continued.
"Yes, I was arrested, but only because of a misunderstanding," and that was the truth of it.
"The Crown has no intention of harming me. I will be back in my own home in a few days and will be there to treat you and your kin as I do usually," and that seemed to put some minds at ease, while many still remained skeptical of his words.
"Now go and tend to your homes and your businesses, and let me tend to mine," and then he walked towards his home, yet Morro still stood there, blocking the guards' path.
Morro had once been a warrior slave in Yunkai, a giant of a man who had escaped that cruel city ruled by slavers. He had landed on these shores, ill and weak, and had been on his deathbed when Galen had found him and saved his life.
It had been two years since then, and ever since that day, he had become a sort of guard for him as he helped him deal with the uglier side of Fleabotton.
"Just say the word, healer," and he shook his head again, sighing.
"There is no need for violence, Morro. Not today," and he was not against violence, but he had little use for it at the moment.
The man finally moved away as the guards entered his little home, and he thanked them.
"You have my gratitude for your patience," and then he entered his room, which in one corner of the little home, having only a simple bed along with rolls and rolls of paper and tomes.
Slowly, he slid down and took out a small chest from under the bed, one which held his most important treasures and from inside the chest, that had a bag of gold coins, two mismatched earrings, a tarnished necklace, a broken chain, and two rolled missives, he took out the one his mother had given him, as he turned towards the guards.
"This is the letter...."
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JAEHAERYS TARGARYEN
As old as he was and as fickle as his once might body had become, Jaehaerys still remembered that fateful day as clear as day. Barth had come to him early in the day, distraught and disturbed over his actions, as he asked Jaehaerys to recuse him of his duties.
But Jaehaerys knew better than most that he needed Barth. That the realm needed Barth, and so despite the vows, Jaehaerys chose to protect his friend and confidante and moved to protect his honor.
He summoned the maid in secret, entrusting the task to only his most loyal men. As the young girl stood before him, he acted less as a King and more as a selfish friend, commanding her to leave the capital and never speak of that night again.
The girl had whimpered, begged, yet Jaehaerys had no choice. He had to weigh her life against the life of millions, and so he gave her a bag of coin and put her on the next ship out of the city so that none may ever question Barth's honor.
His loyal hand was of common lineage, and many a lords and ladies all hated him for his commoner roots and thought him unworthy of the honor Jaehaerys had bestowed upon him. If any of the lords were to get wind of this treachery, they would use it to besmirch his good name, call him an oath breaker, and force him to remove him as his Hand.
So, he chose to sacrifice that girl to save his friend, yet he had never expected that his actions would lead to the destruction of not one but two lives.
"I never thought you to be capable of such cruelty," he could feel the disappointment in Alysanne's voice, and his spring Queen had only ever spoken like this a few times, and it broke his heart that it had come to this again.
"I had no choice," he said, and even he winced at the emptiness of the excuse.
"That is a lie," and his head hung low in shame, as he gazed at his old wrinkly hands.
"I needed Barth. I needed him if I was to keep the realm together. No man could have helped me accomplish as much as I have, apart from him. He was a good man, and was angry with me for days because of what I had done," yet in the end, even he understood the necessity of what he had done.
"To think that you would condemn a girl to a fate like this," and he had no desire to ruin the girl. Jaehaerys had made sure that arrangements were made for her, but in the end the life of one single girl had been too inconsequential and must have gotten lost in the other quarrels of the realm.
I made arrangements," he said, but Alysanne's silence cut deeper than any accusation or scorn.
"Clearly, they were not enough," and indeed, that seemed to be the matter if Maegella's letter was anything to go by. Alysanne had made a servant bring the letter to him so that she may be able to confirm the boy's identity for himself, and it was as they had suspected.
This boy, Galen, was the boy she had saved—a miracle child who had survived the disease that had not even spared a devout princess. The letter spoke of the boy, spoke of the tragedy he had suffered, the promise he held and how she had given him a letter, so that he could seek their aide in case he had need of it.
Son, she called him. And as a Septa she was not allowed to have children of her own, even though of all his daughters she was the most suited to be a mother, but it seemed as if the Gods agreed with him and had given her a child of her own in her last years, a son who carried forward her mother's dream.
"They say he is a healer?" he questioned, and Alysanne nodded, and he should be returning to the castle soon enough. And while he was away, retrieving the letter from Maegella, Alysanne had the men look into this man to find out all they could about him.
And the answer that he had received had been quite interesting.
"Yes," Alysanne answered.
"He treats the common folk of the city on his own, but takes nothing from them," and that was like a septon.
"Is he a septon?" and she shook her head.
"No, though he did apprentice at the Citadel for some time, but was kicked out of the place in a few years. After that, he began travelling from one city to another, healing people along the way," but that was not easy.
"And how does he make money?" Her amethyst eyes lit up, the quiet of them turned into joy, and appreciation as she answered.
"He accepts whatever people can give—gold from merchants, bread from the poor, prayers from the desperate," and that was as strange as an occurrence as he had ever heard.
He uses that to buy herbs and potions, but he asks for no gold. Not unless you wish to see him at once," and that was generous, and he should have expected nothing less of Barth's son.
Barth had been of common birth, but Jaehaerys had hardly seen a more brilliant mind than his late friend, and it seemed like his own son had inherited that same mind and kindness.
"I have heard that he even treats children afflicted with Greyscale," and that was a surprise.
"How?" and she shrugged.
"What I have gathered are mostly rumors? You can ask him for yourself," and he intended to. Jaehaerys held a special resentment for that cursed affliction, the one that robbed him of his loving Maegella, and if the boy had a cure for it, Jaehaerys would reward him for it.
"But Jaehaerys, what do you intend to do with the boy?" and he wished he had an answer for her, but the truth was that once again in his life he found himself conflicted about his actions.
"I do not know." He had never expected to come face to face with the consequences of his past. He had ruled for decades, survived wars and rebellions, but nothing had prepared him for the reckoning of a single forgotten life.
He had wronged the boy once, and yet fate had now brought him in front of him as the savior of his own daughter. Elysar had been quite clear that if it were not for his timely intervention, then Gael would have been dead, and his mind wondered if both he and Alysanne had enough strength left in them to suffer the untimely loss of another child.
"Then hear a queen's counsel..."
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