A/N: Hi, guys! How you all doing?
I hope this season has been kind to you all despite how trying this year is. Let's just hope that next year will be much different and all of this a distant memory.
Orywle sat in one of the Black Cells, being chained to the wall while he was fed measly bread and water. It was quite the downfall for him, as Rhaenyra tore his chain from his neck and gave to Gerardys. That bastard will know what's coming to him.
But he had more important matters to worry about. Long has the Citadel been planning for when the dragons would start killing each other and show their true colors, as the first head of the order of the maesters saw the Targaryens as a threat to the good people of Westeros after he claimed himself as overlord over the Seven Kingdoms. The dragonspawn created a throne and this city out of nothing, and they think they're above us. They're not, and this war shows just what happens when dragons fly in the sky.
The maesters had watched closely during the reigns of Viserys the First of His Name and then his competing heirs, Rhaenyra and Aegon. They couldn't do anything against Viserys and his grandsire Jaehaerys, as they were agreeable enough and gave them concessions, even a prince and princess to join the Faith and be a maester. But the threat was always there in the Citadel's perspective and they knew that their good relations with the last dragonlord family in the world would not last forever.
Their fears were realized when Viserys named Rhaenyra as his heir, ignoring the precedent set by his grandsire. Westeros and the Andals would never accept a woman ruler, and it was ridiculous for the Citadel to accept that a woman could successfully wield the reins of power. History showed a rather poor record of women in charge, such as Agnes Blackwood and Argella Durrandon. And since Westeros was united, the dangers of a woman in power were multiplied.
What played in the rest of the Citadel's hands was that they were not the only ones who would never accept Rhaenyra, although the lords that did and Queen Alicent had their own reasons. Whatever they were, which were mostly linked to the Rogue Prince, they saw the death of Viserys as their chance to begin weakening the dragons.
Orwyle had remembered when he presented Aegon's terms to Rhaenyra, knowing full well that she would reject them and even acknowledging Viserys' wishes. The Citadel and certain members in the Starry Sept wanted him to make things worse, as they would never have another chance like this again.
But with King's Landing falling rather easily and with Rhaenyra sitting on the Iron Throne itself, Orwyle knew that their plans had to be revised. Complicating matters was Cregan Stark and his northern army, since they greatly strengthened the pretender queen's position and thus making the war less likely to go in their favor. Their end goal was the death of both Aegon and Rhaenyra, as well as a decrease in House Targaryen, but only the Velaryon sons, or "Strong" bastards, were dying.
As the Archmaester, Orwyle took it upon himself to make the adjustments. Fortunately, one of the guards in the Black Cells had contacts on the outside and Orwyle promised him a nice reward if he informed him of what was happening and passed messages when needed. That was how he knew about a certain man calling himself the Shepherd and his speeches against the Targaryens. What I need exactly, at this moment.
Then, that guard told him that Lord Strong, the master of whisperers for Aegon, was currently in King's Landing looking for ways to sabotage Rhaenyra. Orwyle told the guard, "Tell Lord Strong to contact the Shepherd. Perhaps, we can help each other get what we want."
The guard soon told him that Lord Strong had made contact with the Shepherd, and the master of whisperers told him that they could use the discontent in the city and among the faithful to spark an uprising against her, her northern barbarians, and especially against the other dragons.
"Tell Lord Strong that I accept his plan, but he must do so quickly. We cannot allow Rhaenyra to get stronger," Orwyle told the guard.
He knew that Lord Strong's priorities were for his king, but Orwyle didn't care who sat on the throne as long as House Targaryen was weakened and the dragons either decimated or all dead. The dragons, in his mind, granted too much power to the dragonlord kings to do as they wished, as Maegor showed. And there were too many to count. If they continue to grow, the destruction of old Valyrian will be upon us.
Dragons, and any magic in general, allowed those to seek a place not of one's predetermined station, and the society as envisioned by the Seven and the Andals organized people accordingly and thus creating a stable order. Orwyle thought that the destruction of the children of the Forest and the ways of the First Men meant order had prevailed, only for the dragons to come in and cause chaos.
Orwyle would do his part to ensure that the order in place by the Andals would remain and become stronger, as less dragons would lead to that outcome. And as the son of a lord, he knew that the order was too fragile, and the dragons would destroy it if they wanted to.
The guard told him, "Archmaester, Lord Strong wants you to know that the people are in an uproar and have begun burning areas of the city. It won't be long before the Dragonpit is stormed."
"Very good," Orwyle whispered. "After this is all over, your name will be recorded in the annals of history and your family will be taken care of. You have my word on that."
The guard nodded in satisfaction as he resumed his post. Orwyle leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. Father, may peace reign throughout the Seven Kingdoms as the dragons die, he prayed.
Joffrey had just finished practicing with his training sword and after a long spar from Ser Lorent Marbrand. Daemon was currently occupied with the war against the usurpers in the family, so the only other man qualified to train him with the blade was the Lord Commander of the Queensguard himself. Ser Lorent proved to be an able and loyal follower of his mother, given that his house was fighting for the usurpers, and was qualified to wear the white cloak. He couldn't complain on who was training him.
But he had no one else to train with him at the moment. Jacaerys and Lucerys were dead, Aegon was not the same after that battle off Driftmark, and Viserys was held captive by his mother's enemies across the narrow sea. As far as he knew, he was the only boy of dragon's blood currently in the Red Keep and thus the oldest likely heir to his mother for the Iron Throne. It took some time to get used to people calling him "Your Grace", but he could not run away from where he was now.
And he wasn't blind to what many saw him as: a bastard of Strong blood. The only reason why he was able to pull through was because of Jacaerys and Lucerys defending him and protecting each other, but they were gone now. Even as he rested in the training yard, Joffrey caught some glances from some of the people in the Red Keep, the same looks that the older Aegon, Aemond, and Daeron gave him when people really believed that he was not his father's son.
Joffrey thought of any reason to make his existence more bearable. Maybe his father Laenor was so threatening of a man that people sought to create any rumors to make him look bad, whether it be him liking men or even boys. Maybe because they were so offended of his mother being the heir to the throne and sought to disgrace however they could, which included her being a "whore." He forgot how many times he struck boys his age because they called her that. Whatever it was, to say that he and his older brothers had a hard time growing up was an inadequate way of describing their hardships and each of them sought release from the vile words thrown their way. Joffrey was disappointed when he saw Jaecerys come out of a brothel and sleep with maids and whatever women he could and Lucerys showed that he couldn't be trusted to make decisions by himself, such as the time he brawled with a squire because he called their mother a "common harlot." Rather than trying to be different, they responded as everyone else expected of bastards and thus brought their reputation down.
Not helping matters was the fact that he had to interact with his future goodbrothers, Medrick and Torrhen. It was the first time that he had met them, as Jacaerys made the betrothal on his behalf. And looking upon the plump men of House Manderly, a family who couldn't hold on to their original castles and had to be exiled from the Reach, made Joffrey more disinclined to get to know who his extended family were.
Even though he was young, he knew what it meant to be powerless and scorned and thus sought to distance himself away from those that would bring him down, with the Manderly brothers being among them. "Your Grace, my name is Ser Medrick Manderly. I was told that—"
"As Prince of Dragonstone, I do not wish to be associated with exiles," Joffrey cut him off.
"Your Grace?" Ser Torrhen didn't expect that.
"Why would I want to be associated with weaklings? After all, you weren't able to stay where your family was born and had to flee to the northern wastelands," Joffrey held no bars back.
"Your Grace," Ser Torrhen took offense. "I don't know what prompted you to speak to us like this, but we have done nothing to deserve it."
"And Your Grace, I must point out two things, respectfully," Ser Medrick looked as if he choked on the words that were coming out of his mouth. "Your brother, may the gods rest his soul, agreed upon a betrothal between Your Grace and my sister. Betrothals can be easier to start if the rest of the family has a good relationship with the groom. And second, and please don't be offended, but you're not Prince of Dragonstone, not until Her Grace decreed it so."
Joffrey kicked him in the shin, causing Ser Medrick to lean down and rub it while his brother helped him. "How dare you talk to me like that! I am the Prince and you shall talk to me with respect!" And Joffrey stormed off, not wanting to apologize.
Of course, Rhaenyra scolded him by spanking his bottom and telling him to apologize to the Manderlys. But Daemon suggested that he first learn humility through hard training. And that was how Joffrey was training hard with Ser Lorent in the first place.
But after drinking some water from the ladle, Joffrey set down his training sword and moved to leave the training yard. "Your Grace, we haven't finished with the session for today," Ser Lorent called out to him.
"I'm tired, Ser Lorent. Take the rest of the day off and leave me alone," Joffrey wanted to avoid more training and wanting to talk to his mother about becoming the Prince of Dragonstone since he was the oldest boy left.
"I have orders from the Prince Consort, Your Grace. He told me that—"
"I'm a prince, Ser Lorent," Joffrey replied with indignance. "Show me some consideration and let me rest." He quickly walked away, not allowing Ser Lorent to answer back. As if I would allow him. His family is full of traitors.
He wanted to talk to his mother first about his proper title and then to complain about what his stepfather was making him do. He was initially in awe of having the Rogue Prince be in his home, but he grew resentful once he saw how he and his mother displayed their affections with each other. He never saw such feelings between her and his father Laenor, and to his regret, he could never be as close as he wanted to be with little Aegon and Viserys because of that. He now had a baby sister, Visenya, and wanted a chance to make things right. Nevertheless, his mother not loving his father didn't make things easy.
Unlike his older brothers while they were still alive, he kept his bitterness hidden, but the pain of his mother being more loving with Daemon stung very much. And anytime he tried to talk about his father, both he and his mother avoided the subject. They really didn't love each other. And it made him afraid of whether he would be a good husband to Lord Manderly's daughter, as he didn't think he could provide a good marriage himself despite seeing what it could be. I can never accept Daemon not because of anything he did, but because he was the husband my mother wanted and I have to live that my father and her had to be apart.
Approaching the solar used by his mother, he saw the door slightly ajar and heard voices, one of which he recognized as Daemon's. Peeking through, he saw Daemon sitting across from who Joffrey recognized as Cregan Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. His personal opinion of the head of House Stark grew positive after seeing Cregan help Daemon beat down Ulf and Hugh for how they talked so recklessly to his mother. But as he was the overlord of the Manderly brothers, he didn't want to get too close to him.
Judging from the expressions of both Daemon and Cregan, they seemed to be talking about something important. But what is it?
He got his answers soon enough. "I heard from Lady Mysaria that Aemond just married Floris Baratheon in a rushed ceremony before the Seven," Cregan said.
Daemon scoffed. "My gods. My nephew finds time to get married while the stormlords are beginning to grow more discontent with him. He must be getting very desperate if he wedded and bedded the pretty stag so quickly."
"I wouldn't be so dismissive of his actions, Your Grace. After all, the Baratheons are not done fighting yet and we still need to contend with the armies led by Criston Cole," Cregan reminded him.
"Right," Daemon nodded. "What do you suggest that we do?"
"Well, we need to counter their movements before they could penetrate the northern areas of the Reach. Since Lord Merryweather and Lord Caswell have sided with us, it is imperative that we reinforce them to make sure that the Lannister and Hightower army don't make any significant advance up the rose road."
"And how do you suggest that we do so?"
"We reinforce Tumbleton and Bitterbridge, as the enemy cannot advance on King's Landing without control of those towns. I suggest using my northern troops and the Valemen under Ser Royce for this purpose, as there has been no significant activity in the riverlands and on the eastern borders of the Westerlands for many weeks now."
"Agreed. Although I don't expect Willem Royce and the Corbray brothers to be entirely cooperative with me, given what I had tried to do all those years earlier," Daemon said.
"Hasn't stopped you from achieving your goals so far, regarding the opinions of other men."
"I suppose not," Daemon cracked a smile.
"With Tumbleton and Bitterbridge buttressed, we can use the northern Reach as a place to either strike further south or open up a second line of advance onto Storm's End. If we are to safeguard the capital, we have to be aggressive and not allow the enemy to be in a position to strike at us, Your Grace."
"I got that," Daemon rubbed his chin. "But besides Criston Cole, we have to contend with at least two dragons on the side of the usurpers that can fly: the great Vhagar and the Blue Queen. No one has heard much word of Sunfyre, meaning that the older Aegon is still indisposed, although that still leaves two dragons who can cause much damage to our cause."
"As Aemond perfectly showed us," Cregan stated. "Although, I must admit that his willingness to burn his own men was something I had not expected even from what I had heard of him."
"You don't know him as well as I do, but ever since the war had started, I'm beginning to wonder if I knew my own nephew at all," Daemon admitted.
Joffrey listened with great interest. For the first time, he was hearing about what others said about Aemond besides the words said to his face and was learning much about what strategy was amongst the grownups, but he still had a long way to go before he could understand what they were actually saying.
"If I may, Prince Daemon, may I be privy to some knowledge regarding what kind of Aemond is, or was? As someone who commands one of the Queen's able forces, I need to know who our foes are so that I can make the best contributions I can against the usurpers," Cregan clasped his hands together.
Daemon leaned back and sighed, with Joffrey knowing that his stepfather once had a good relationship with Aemond until he was called back to Dragonstone and Ser Criston took over his nephew's training. "Okay," he conceded. "What do you wish to know?"
"Besides his weaknesses and strengths, Prince Daemon, I want to understand just why treasonous thoughts would enter his mind and why would the older Aegon make him his regent, given that his younger brother has no political training or experience to call upon?" Cregan asked with expectation.
"You really think that by understanding him, you'll beat him?" Daemon showed his interest in how Cregan thought.
"I had to understand my own uncle and work within his rules before I could force him from Winterfell. You can't hope to win against a capable person until you can understand him or her. That's what I learned, Your Grace," Cregan explained.
"Then you've learned well," Daemon smiled approvingly. "I'll start with this. Did you know that the older Aegon whored around and neglected Helaena?"
"I've heard about his affairs and that the marriage between him and his sister-wife was… complicated, to say the least," Cregan revealed.
"But do you know who was the most disappointed with his behavior, besides Helaena?" Daemon posed.
"His brothers." Joffrey saw Cregan answer with such speed and certainty.
"Most of all, Aemond. Just imagine seeing your brother, the one born before you, and raised to believe in what a prince would do… only to see him destroy all of your hopes and also making himself look bad?" Daemon outlined.
"Surely, such actions would reflect badly on the elder Aegon himself and not his siblings," Cregan offered.
"In most cases, yes, but Aemond is not the type to take personal disappointments well, since he was raised to expect only the best effort from everyone, which is the type of role a younger brother would play." Cregan hummed in agreement. "And with Aegon not taking his duties seriously, he decided that he would not trust in anyone else again and that's what eventually led to him bonding with Vhagar, since he thought that having the biggest dragon in existence besides Balerion would make him strong and thus relying only on himself when his brother failed him."
"Pity," Cregan could only say.
"Indeed," Daemon concurred. "I offered to train the boy since I felt that he needed some direction after that incident with the Velaryon boys, and it went well until that steward showed up," he said that last part with venom.
Joffrey always found it weird that Daemon referred to him and his brothers while they were still alive as the "Velaryon boys" instead of by their first names. Granted, we're not his blood, but still…
"And you blame Criston Cole for bringing out the nefarious elements of Aemond's personality," Cregan concluded.
"Every Targaryen has the potential to commit dark deeds, Lord Cregan. Take it from King Maegor and even my grandsire King Jaehaerys, who wasn't exactly a nice man and whose actions eventually led to this mess," Daemon quietly fumed.
"Of course," Cregan was not surprised and was not impressed with Jaehaerys' reputation.
"But it takes the actions of others to really bring our more sinister sides into the light. And Criston Cole was that man to make Aemond a skilled man with a sword but without the restraint that handling a weapon required," Daemon added.
"And can you please tell me more about Ser Criston? I've heard much about him, but I never met the man. If Aemond is as wicked as you say he is, I want to know more about the man who made that happen," Cregan continued to press.
Daemon shook his head with disapproval whenever Criston's name was mentioned. "People in the riverlands think that the Freys are the biggest upstarts there are, but those people clearly haven't met Criston if they came to such a conclusion."
"Please enlighten me, Prince Daemon."
"Criston is comparable to the Tyrells in the Reach, where his status as a steward made him vie for any opportunity he could get to move up. And when he obtained that lucky win against me at Maidenpool, he found his first and most certain way to move up: my wife, the Queen herself," Daemon outlined.
Joffrey also had a distaste of Criston Cole, but this was the first time that he had heard an explanation on why that was.
"And thus began the steward's long association with Rhaenyra," Daemon continued. "He was at her side for years and up to her marriage with Laenor. It's because of her that he was even allowed to become a kingsguard in the first place."
Cregan kept listening, but Joffrey recognized his eyes were actively scanning his stepfather, resembling a hawk or more appropriately a wolf stalking his prey. Whether Daemon picked up on his eyes was unknown to him.
"You did not answer the question, Your Grace," Cregan said.
"I beg your pardon?" Daemon was surprised.
"I've heard the stories regarding Ser Criston's relationship with Her Grace, something that almost resembled a girl falling in love with a dashing warrior. But I have heard nothing that would suggest him being an upstart, because if that was the case, then Ser Criston chose a very poor place to advance himself since anything he would accomplish would die with him due to his kingsguard vows," Cregan explained.
Daemon blinked, not expecting Cregan to come up with that assessment, but recovered. "Once Criston fell out of my wife's good graces because he wanted more than what she was willing to give, he found another benefactor in Queen Alicent and then her children. If he can't find a royal that he can use to move up, he'll just find another."
"But as I said, as a kingsguard, whatever his success is won't last after he dies," Cregan repeated. "Unless… you see him as an upstart because he was a rival to you regarding Her Grace's feelings."
"What makes you think that?" Daemon cocked his head.
"You really should be more careful with how you describe people you don't personally like. I can tell that you feel some melancholy for Aemond, Prince Daemon, but it's clear that you personally hate Criston. Which makes me wonder on what exactly happened between the two of you besides that tourney at Maidenpool?"
"I would tread very carefully, my lord. You are touching on events that are personal to the family," Daemon warned him.
Cregan exhaled while a smug grin grew on his face. "Thank you for giving me more confirmation. Which brings us to what exactly happened between Criston and Her Grace on Dragonstone?"
"What do you mean?" Daemon narrowed his eyes.
"King Viserys married Alicent Hightower, but all four children had the Valyrian traits. Prince Aemon married Jocelyn Baratheon, and Rhaenys inherited the Valyrian eyes. Aemma Arryn had the silver hair, which allowed her to pass on the Valyrian traits to Her Grace the Queen. But not the Velaryon princes," Cregan pressed on.
Joffrey's blood turned hot. This wasn't the first time someone implied that he was not of his mother's blood, but he was going to be damned if he wasn't going to burst in and put a stop to it. But for Daemon, his face grew slowly pale, confounding Joffrey.
"Your words border on treason, Lord Stark," Daemon tried to stop him.
"Why do you give me more reason to suspect and more indication that I'm right?" Cregan sighed in satisfaction. "So… Laenor really didn't father them, did he?"
Joffrey waited for Daemon's response, eagerly expecting his stepfather to answer with a "no" and to put the wolfman in his place.
But rather than that, Daemon slowly shook his head, turning Joffrey's blood cold? What?
"And it's not Harwin Strong, is it?" Cregan inquired.
"That's what most would believe," Daemon quietly said.
"Then… Cole?"
Daemon slowly nodded, accepting that Cregan had pieced it all together. "Nyra saw Cole as her only release from her loveless marriage with Laenor and their time on Dragonstone was what led to the births of her 'Velaryon' sons. But once Criston declared his love for her, she said no and had him moved back to King's Landing. When he tried to rape her, she scratched his face and thus ending whatever connection they had since she was seven name days."
But suddenly, Daemon stood up, went around to Cregan's side, picked him up by his collar, and slammed against the wall. "If you say anything about this, I will kill you. I don't care what you've done for us or whether the northern lords will rebel. I will end you, if that's what it takes to protect Nyra and our family."
Cregan reached to Daemon's hands and pushed them away while he adjusted his shirt. "Well, then. You have nothing to worry about, since I have no good reason to reveal that to anyone, anyways. I simply want to see you if you trust me with such secrets, and to motivate you should you forget our arrangement for Viserys marrying my daughter Sarra."
Daemon laughed darkly. "You know, they say that northerners are fools, but those who say that clearly haven't met you. You really are something else, aren't you?"
"Just as you will protect your family, I will protect mine. So… let's remember what will happen to our families should there be a breach in trust between us. More importantly, we'll be family soon once Viserys returns safely, so we should not have any secrets between us."
Daemon cracked a cold smile. "I agree."
As for Joffrey, he had felt his world come crashing down, as this was the first time that he had heard his stepfather reveal the truth. The cold, unforgiving truth.
All of his hopes and expectations had come crashing down, as the realization of the people who longed scorned him and his older brother having been right all along hit him so very hard. The fact that Harwin Strong didn't father them and that he was still his mother's son did nothing to comfort to him, as his real father was the very man that he had grown to hate so much because he fought against his mother. So… I am a bastard after all. Just not a "Strong" one.
He felt himself hyperventilating, as the truth grew too much for him to handle. I have to get out of here! Not wanting to be near the place where his whole world had come crashing down, he sprinted away, not noticing the door opening and Daemon seeing his stepson growing smaller in the hallway.
"Joffrey!" he called out, the shock in his voice evident as he realized that his stepson had heard everything. But before he could call the guards, Joffrey had skirted past the many courtiers and lords in the Red Keep and out onto the causeway that led into the main city.
"Your Grace! Come back!" a few of the Targaryen guards and even Ser Cargyll ran after him.
But having been trained by Ser Lorent and people having called him a strapping boy, he was able to run into the many alleyways of the larger city ahead of those that were trying to bring him back to the Red Keep. I don't want to go back anymore.
Passing by the many shops and running down the various streets of the capital, Joffrey looked behind and saw that no one was following him. Taking a few moments to catch his breath, he sat down in between some stands and put his head on his knees as the tears streamed out.
I hate mother, because she is a whore. I hate father, since he's nothing to me now. I hate Criston, since he was evil. I hate Daemon, since he knew everything and didn't tell me. I am nothing now!
So much hate filled his insides, as life as he knew it was over for him. He could never look at his mother the same way again, nor find comfort in her embrace. He could never defend himself against those that called him a bastard, since that was what he was now. He could never call himself a true dragon, since he saw himself as a half-breed. And he could never pride himself in where he came from now on, since it was all a lie.
He didn't know how long he had wept, as time no longer mattered to him. But as he slowly stopped crying, his mind started to clear. As he sat there, he tried to understand why his mother would sleep with Criston and why she would hide it. He didn't know what happened that made his mother marry his Velaryon father, but it must've poisoned any chances of them being happy forever. He suspected that she always had feelings for Daemon, but circumstances prevented them from being together for so long before their wish was granted. And he began to remember that his mother did love him, as she held him as tightly as she did with his Targaryen half-brothers, the ones who were truly dragons. He started to wonder if there were many things that he still did not understand, things that prevented him from knowing the truth. Wiping the tears from his face, he stood up and adjusted his clothes. Taking a deep breath and exhaling, he looked up at the Red Keep, the dreaded fortress of red that many were dying for at this moment, even his real mother.
It's time that I know the truth, from her lips. No more lies and no more hiding. He resolved that he was going to hear what really happened from the woman who gave birth to him. I'm tired of feeling weak, and she is still my mother. I really want to understand her and why she did it.
He hoped that after all was said and done, things could go back to normal and that he could be a son to his mother, and she could remain his mother.
But as he began to return to the Red Keep, he heard shouting. Looking to his left, he saw smoke arising from around the Dragonpit. His eyes widened, knowing that something was happening and whatever it was, the dragons were in danger.
Immediately, he ran towards the Dragonpit, the urgency to protect the dragons replacing his feelings of sorrow and hatred. He had always wanted to ride a dragon and felt some protectiveness over them. I have to see if they're all right!
But as he made his way there, he started to see the many goldcloaks either march in formation or fighting smallfolk armed with torches or any tools that they could get their hands on. There was so much fighting in the streets that the stones were soaked with blood and Joffrey had to jump over a few bodies that were cut down.
A man armed with a club was run through a goldcloak, his corpse falling just in front of Joffrey. He looked up and saw the goldcloak stare at him, but for some reason, he didn't recognize him. A tense moment passed, with Joffrey shaking at what he would do, before the goldcloak pushed him away from the carnage. "Go home, boy! And stay there!"
Joffrey ran off, getting closer to the Dragonpit as more of the city was being engulfed in violence. I don't understand. What's going on here?
Finally reaching the Hill of Rhaenys, he saw fires coming out of the Dragonpit and a multitude of goldcloaks lying dead all over the exterior. Joffrey instantly felt dread, as he knew that whoever attacked was now inside and not doing good things to the dragons. Ignoring the danger that was posed to him entering, Joffrey ran past the bodies, waving off the smell and flies, and went in.
He forgot how cavernous the lair of the dragons was, as he had to adjust his eyes to the darkness of it. The torches did little to light the way, but he saw more bodies strewn about, a mixture of smallfolk and the famed Dragonkeepers. He counted less than fifty Dragonkeepers as he continued deeper, confusing Joffrey as he viewed the guardians of the dragons as equal to that of the kingsguard. And he found that whoever came inside had smashed through the doors of the Dragonpit's lesser entrances, made of oak and iron, with each of the doors either smashed or cut through.
What is happening? Hearing the roars of the dragons made him run faster and the screams of people inside only told him that the creatures were in danger.
Finally entering the resting area where the five dragons were, Joffrey saw each of them had been awakened, been roused, and were very angry. Alarming Joffrey was that each of them was being swarmed by a crowd of people, all of them attacking for reasons still unknown to Joffrey.
Unable to fly away, as they had been chained, the five dragons fought against their attackers with their horns, claws, and teeth. They had let loose their dragonflame and transformed the Dragonpit into a fiery inferno, with many dying and becoming ash but they were still being attacked and even hurt.
Joffrey could only watch in horror, as the first dragon to die was Shrykos, who was slain by a man carrying an axe. He had leapt onto her neck, locked his legs around it, and drove his axe down into the dragon's skull, striking her seven times. "For the Seven and the death of the dragons!" he yelled with each blow.
He turned and saw Morghul also dying, slain by a knight who was already burning, who rushed into the stream of dragonfire and stabbed the he-dragon repeatedly in the eye with his spear as he burned to his own death. And like the man with the axe, he kept shouting, "For the Seven and the death of the dragons!"
The Seven? Why are the Faith wanting to hurt the dragons?
Joffrey had no time to ponder those thoughts, as he next saw Tyraxes burning those who rushed at him from his lair, until the front entrance of his lair was completely blocked with corpses. But the oldest son of Rhaenyra saw that the mob had soon broken through the back door of his lair, the dragon becoming entangled in his own chains and was slain by them. What was more sickening was that Joffrey could see each of the smallfolk cutting into his membranes in the wings and tearing them into many strips. They then wore the dragonskin around their shoulders like cloaks, all the while praising the Seven for such twisted gifts.
Joffrey's fists tightened as he saw Dreamfyre almost free from her chains. Come on, you can do it! She took wing and he saw that the she-dragon had burned more men that the other three dragons combined, as the crowd was hesitating to go near her and there were piles of ashen bodies around her. However, she seemed to not see very well and was very and riled from how she was just pushing people away with her wings. She took flight, but flew into the pit's great dome above, which cracked on impact. Dazed, she fell back down, and the stones from her collision above fell onto her and whoever was unlucky to be nearby.
Joffrey coughed as the dust spread from the stones falling. Scanning around, he then saw Syrax chained. His mother's yellow dragon was sent there in order to be around dragons, as it was deemed that she would be happy around more of her kind. However, the mob had seen the yellow dragon, recognizing it as Rhaenyra's, and moved to attack her.
Having seen four dragons die before him, Joffrey looked around and grabbed some keys from a dead dragonkeeper. Finding a way around the crowd, he was able to circle around them and reached Syrax before he did. As they got close, he tried one key to free her, but it was the wrong one.
Seeing the mob come closer, he grew desperate after the second key failed to open. But with the third key, the chains were unlatched and fell from Syrax's form.
"What are you doing, boy?!" Joffrey heard someone yell at him. As the mob stopped once they saw a freed dragon, an old man who was sallow and resembled a skeleton due to his skin barely hanging off of his bones show himself. "The dragons are an abomination! They must be killed! Why are you freeing them?"
Joffrey exhaled, trying to control his fear. "I am Joffrey Velaryon, son of Rhaenyra, rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. And you will not touch Syrax."
The old man's eyes widened. "He's a dragonspawn! Kill him!"
Joffrey whipped around, trying to ride Syrax out of there. He barely clung onto her spines as she breathed out her fire and used her tail to thrash some of her attackers away. "Come on! Fly!"
As if hearing his plea, Syrax roared and forced her way to the front entrance, burning many more as she went. As for Joffrey, he saw a man trying to jump on and force him off, but he pushed him off before he got a hold.
Seeing the entrance near, Joffrey yelled out, "Almost there! Fly!" But he felt himself being pulled off, the spines of his mother's dragon slipping from his fingers as he found himself lying on the ground, surrounded by a mob.
And as he did, the crowd watched as Syrax finally took flight and seeing that the entrance was too far had opted to fly through the opening that Dreamfyre had made.
Joffrey smiled as he said to Syrax, "That's it. Fly on!" But now realizing that he was surrounded by the mob, he also noticed that he was near a dragonkeeper's corpse, his sword still sheathed. He knew that he was outnumbered, but he thought to himself, I'm not going to lie down.
Pulling the dead dragonkeeper's sword from its scabbard, Joffrey applied what he had just learned from Ser Lorent as he swung at the crazed smallfolk. Fortunately for him, most of those people had no training with arms whatsoever and were surprised at how a young boy was able to hold them off.
Joffrey parried a man's torch before running him through. Another tried to club him, but he caught him just in time and slashed across his belly. He didn't have time to process that he had just made his first kills, for yet another tried to strike with a rock.
Joffrey lost count on how many people were either killed or cut, but eventually, after stabbing one with the dragonkeeper's sword, someone knocked it out of his hands and the mob quickly swarmed him, pinning down to the ground. The old corpse then walked over and stared down at him.
"That was a mistake, Velaryon," he hissed. "You should have let us kill the dragon, and now you killed some of the faithful."
"I am the blood of the dragon, and I protected one," Joffrey said to him.
"Not all," the shepherd grabbed an axe and raised it above Joffrey. "The gods curse you and bid you leave to the Seven Hells!"
I forgive you, mother. Syrax is safe, were his final thoughts as the axe fell on his head and everything turned to black.
A/N: I, for one, believed that the Dance of the Dragons was a larger conspiracy that exploited the tensions in House Targaryen, and it's very possible that Orwyle intentionally sabotaged the first stages just to kickstart the war. And the conspiracy will be revealed to be larger in later chapters.
This chapter was largely Joffrey's (not the blonde shit in canon, just to remind you all), and how he was coming to terms that Criston was not his father. And we see here that the opening events of the riots are largely the same, with the storming of the Dragonpit (except Syrax is there and not in the Red Keep). But Joffrey shoes his dragon side dominating by protecting his mother's mount and taking some of the rioters out before being killed the Shepherd. But considering the circumstances, the riots will not have the same end result. And Joffrey went out with a bang.
Until next time. And Merry Christmas to you all!