SER JORGAN
UPDATE: I am going to rewrite and revise and edit the next few chapters in order to make them more detailed and well-written. Plus I have a few ideas I want to add to it, so I need to revise them completely. So I'm going to delete them for now as I write. I'm saying this now so no one will get confused. It will take a while, but it will be finished by mid-January to early February. Just a fair warning.
Ser Jorgan sequestered himself in the darkness of Maegor Holdfast. In his cell, there was no window, no light, and no bed.
He was all alone. Hazelle and he separated upon arriving at Maegor's Holdfast. His eyes by now had grown heavy and his mind was clouded, obscuring all of his mental faculties. His overall health was suffering ever so greatly.
Ser Jorgan thought of his surviving companions; Ser Harrin and Ser Jarad. The last time he saw them was when he left to venture for food. They all dutifully guarding the Queen.
Are they dead? Are they all dead?
Ser Jorgan knew what was coming; the trial. Although he did not know what exactly it entailed. Over the spans of days, Ser Jorgan had heard information from soldiers who managed to return down to the hiding spot untouched. They all said the same thing.
The woman on the throne is mad. Madder than the Mad King himself. She was paranoid about death, descending into insanity with bouts of delusions.
At the drop of a hat, the woman would order her men to seize citizens in the dead of night so she could subject them to a "trial."
Ser Jorgan remembered what Ser Russell told him before his unfortunate death. "I saw countless women and men and children rode down by those savages wielding half-scythes. Those who dare to struggle and flee would die horrifically. But those were the lucky ones….the ones that survived were taken… they would be taken and stuffed in cages like cattle and taken to that dragon woman. To be burned alive, to be eaten. The children...oh the children. Their bodies were just butchered by those madmen. All by the orders of that witch! Gods have mercy on their souls."
I am going to die. Buried with the Queen and his fellow companions. He would see his lover and his daughter once more. "Ah, Emelia….Maellery….," he murmured as his hand touched a cold stone wall.
He worried about Hazelle, the pitiful little creature was without him. Undoubtedly terrified out of her mind.
He thought of Cedrick and remembered the determined glint in his eyes. He was a slight boy, but his willpower was impressively profound. He almost reminded Ser Jorgan of himself when he was a young one.
When he kept very still, he decided to rest. There was nothing he could do at this point.
When he woke from his bemoaning slumber, his intrusive thoughts were as painful as a bed of nails. Thoughts of Hazelle and Cedrick disturbed him. Thinking of Queen Cersei made him horribly sick with guilt and the thoughts of his companion made his eyes water.
He heard nothing. Not a scream, not a cry, not even a slight squeak of a mouse. But he knew that someone would come for him.
He found himself thinking of Maellery more and more. She was a lovely flower in her youth; delicate, sweet-smelling, and comely. Her soft, ivory skin, her red curls. Her lips were carefully tinted red and her skin was flawless. Her silver eyes shone like twin moons.
He saw Emelia, he met her once, but he remembered every detail of her. Her pale skin, the reddish fuzz on her little head, her low-weighted body. A lifeless husk of a newborn in his arms.
I failed you, all of you. Ser Jorgan thought.
Then Ser Jorgan heard loud footsteps coming down to the door. When the heavy wooden door creaked open, he blinked as his eyes adjusted to the sudden light.
An Unsullied opened the door an ajar, only to thrust a jug of water.
"Prepare to stand before your Queen." Ser Jorgan flinched upon hearing the Unsullied speaking coherently.
The man is adorned in gold armor, stocky, of medium height, and square. He has a serious-looking face, on the edge of solemnity. "Please," Ser Jorgan croaked,
"Your trial for your treason is near. Drink."
"The little girl..where . . . "
The door crashed shut. Ser Jorgan lowered his head to his chest.
He took a deep breath to collect him.
"Trial," He muttered. What crime have I committed? Serving as a Lannister soldier. Protecting my Queen from a mad tyrant?
I will die because I am serving my Queen. That is treason. But for now, he was no longer Ser Jorgan. He was a peasant dressed in a soft tunic. But what crimes could a peasant confess to?
Ser Jorgan hungrily drank the water, his mind moving a mile a minute. Helplessly Ser Jorgan slept once more, only to be awoken by the same man an hour later.
"Come." The man commanded.
Ser Jorgan clawed the wall to bring himself to his weak legs. He staggered to the Unsullied and was escorted down a long corridor and led down the cavernous husk of the Great Hall.
Upon entering the room of the Great Hall, Ser Jorgan could smell the familiar stench of death. Though he saw no bodies present in the room. The horrific stench overflowed through the room, burning Ser Jorgan's nose hair.
Pale ashes decorated the floors. There was no longer a roof, giving the once vivid room a dreary grey hue. All that remained untouched was the Iron Throne. Still sitting firm and unfazed on a raised iron dais with high and narrow steps.
Behind the chair was the dragon towering over. A gigantic beast with scales black as night, his horns blood red, and his eyes are smoldering red pits.
Perched on that chair was Daenerys Targaryen. Sylphlike and Valyrian. Her violet eyes, calm and emotionless. Long, wavy silver-golden hair, so smooth and silky, almost as if it was tailored from gold fabric. But the most striking aspect of her that struck Ser Jorgan was her poor health. She was as thin as a lath. Her eyes are sunken as if she had not slept for many nights, and her skin pallid.
Her pale eyes hung onto his and he stood before the woman.
Murderer. Ser Jorgan thought. A madwoman that stepped over thousands of bodies to sit in that damn chair! Burning rage hissed through his body like a deathly poison, screeching a demanded release in the form of unbridled violence.
But Ser Jorgan restrained himself.
"You shall kneel before your Queen," commanded Daenerys, her voice clear, but yet discordant.
Ser Jorgan swallowed his pride and compiled. He ignored his dull pain in his injured leg to kneel before the murderer.
"You are kneeling before Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, First of Her Name, the Unburnt, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains, and Mother of Dragons."
And the Queen of the Ashes. Ser Jorgan lifted up his head to find a pair of amethysts staring back at him. "What is your name?" He built up his lie on the spot.
"James."
A cold sweat ran down his glanced up once at the growling beast hovering above Daenerys. He knew that one slip could cost him his life.
The same man who escorted him walked close to Daenerys. He turned around to face Ser Jorgan. "As you are aware, you are here as we know there are traitors among us."
Traitors?
"Who do you pledge your allegiance to?" Daenerys inquired.
Queen Cersei. Ser Jorgan wanted to say. But he lied and stared her dead in the eyes. "To you, my Queen."
A dubious look crossed her face. "Many before you said the same thing. All burned where you now stand. You and the other citizens of King's Landing all supported Cersei before my arrival. I know all of you wish to slit my throat. I know all of you wish for the expungement of my troops. And you truly believe that all you must say is that I am your Queen? Your allegiance is unchecked. How do you plead?"
Ser Jorgan replied without hesitation. "My Queen, I did support Queen Cersei. But not always. She was ruthless, no one has ever denied that. Even my fellow neighbors in Flea Bottoms could corroborate that. She was not the one to be trifled with. She blew up the Sept. She caused the deaths of the Starks. The deaths of the Tyrells. She was never fit for a Queen." There was slight truth to his deceiving words. Although he was born and raised in House Hawthorne sworn to the Lannister and Baratheon, he never found Queen Cersei kind or charitable. During her reign, she was as ruthless against her opponents as any King could be.
But yet he is a Lannister soldier. From the tender age of eighteen, he has sworn to protect the Lannisters and the Baratheon no matter what.
"But you-"
His words froze in his throat at the jarring sound of the dragon snarling at him. Baring it's razor-sharp teeth, saliva rolling down its maw. Dark wings that stretched leathery like bats, intense heat emitted from it that made Ser Jorgan break out into a sweat.
I am going to die. I am going to die.
Ser Jorgan gulped timorously. He had to dismiss his dignity to earn her good graces. " I have heard of the Targaryen dynasty even when I was a little lad. I heard many incredible tales of them. I always loved the thought of dragons, I can't believe I am looking at one right now. I always thought they were extinct. I spent days and nights daydreaming about myself riding one, soaring in the blue skies, touching the clouds as the flocks of birds fly past me. So by standing before a Taryagan, I know who is the true ruler. You, your namesake speaks volume to your character. Powerful and fearsome, but yet...you retain…" Ser Jorgan gulped silently. "Measurable compassion for the small. I am sure that in the many years after this, you will be viewed as beloved and renowned for your compassionate soul."
"Compassionate?" Daenerys' voice grew hollow. "Is that what you believe I wish to hear?"
Words left Ser Jorgan. An overwhelming wave of silence fell upon the room. He stared into those pale violet eyes burning with an enigmatic emotion, and his heart fell silent. He hoped that his pitiful words would win her over, though nothing is more pathetic than a groveler.
"You don't think I know? Do you take me as a fool?" Her voice rose with anger, but yet her eyes had a deadness, a stillness. The unmoving gaze was accompanied by deliberate slow breathing like she was fighting something back and losing.
Immediately Ser Jorgan felt ill. He was talking to a dragon. Waves of heat coursed through his blood, a cold sweat glistened in his gaunt features. His eyes sunken and his skin sallow, everything ached, everything sagged. He gulped. "Please, my Queen.."
"You said you heard tales of the Taryagens. Then you must have heard of their demise and who's responsible. A Lannister murdered my Father. A Baratheon murdered Rhaeger Targaryen. A knight of House Lannister slew two Targaryen children. Queen Cersei, King Robert. All sat in this chair. All seeking to kill me. This stolen land is soaked in dragon-blood, My Father, Rhaeger, Rhaenys, and if the traitors had their way; my own!" Daenerys drew herself to her full height; her eyes were smoldering.
Bile crawled up Ser Jorgan's throat. His mind raced in many directions, but his thoughts went nowhere. He swallowed it down. Does she know? Has my armor been discovered? Have they been discovered?
He did not know what to say. He barely understood what he said wrong. This woman is in the grip of madness.
"My rule is fear, all forms of transgression will be addressed with condemnation." Ser Jorgan noticed something strange. Her eyes were planted on him, but he did not feel that she was looking directly at him. "I have ruled by many means. Trying so hard to evade the path of my Father. Kindness, gentleness, love, and justice. But in the end, I came to terms that I am King Aerys' daughter. And I learned that the path of fire and blood prevailed. The ashes spread upon King's Landing was a mere warning of things to come. All those who oppose me serve Cersei," She momentarily gestured to the chair. "All Traitors will be reduced to ashes under my reign. And I will never tolerate any Lannister soldiers in my presence."
Ser Jorgan watched in shock as, almost in slow-motion, an Unsullied came to the steps of the throne and dropped his melted armor onto the floor.
His eyes widened in horror. Shit. Shit. Shit. That was all Ser Jorgan could think. He has become unmanned. He had nothing to hide behind.
Ser Jorgan was shaking like an autumn leaf, his teeth chattering. This couldn't have happened. Please, Gods. Please let this be a cruel dream. Wake up, you're just dreaming! It's over. It was all over now. His hopes, his dreams, his goals. They were fading right in front of his very eyes. Ser Jorgan was scared in a way that was beyond terror. Scared for both himself, his companions, his Queen, and most importantly, the two children he endangered.
Then a sudden idea dawned upon him. He squinted his eyes at the armor. "What is that, my Queen?" He said dumbly.
"Your Lannister armor," Daenerys said pointedly. "Where is the rest of you?"
Ser Jorgan shook his head. "I apologize, my Queen. But I do not know what you are referring to."
The man who escorted him chimed in. "No need for your lies. It is a great crime to lie to your Queen. These were discovered in your home. Underneath the floorboards."
Ser Jorgan resisted the urge to break down. "I am not lying. Those armors do not belong to me. Or my brother."
"Your brother?" Daenerys echoed.
"Yes, my brother," He took a second to fabricate a name. "Russell, he allowed me to stay in the house once my home was demolished."
Daenerys turned her head to one of the Unsullied. "Greyworm, were there any other men in that house?"
Greyworm shook his head. "No. Only a little girl and this man before us."
Then he added. "But there is a young boy, but we have not been able to locate him."
"A boy?"
"Yes, the patrol reported that they would routinely see two children walking down the street to do work. We could not find the boy anywhere. They also reported that they had never seen this man before until now." "
"If you allow me to explain myself, my brother, Russell, died recently. He grew ill and died in his sleep, leaving me to care for my dear niece and nephew. Beforehand, I was scavenging for scraps on the food. Living on the streets, sleeping in the alleys. I came upon my brother and he gave me shelter. After his sudden death, I became injured due to an accident so I could not work. My nephew and niece had to take responsibility, working at various shops. I swear to you I am telling the truth, My Queen, I assure you that I do not know how those items came to be in Russell's home. How that armor came in my brother's dwelling is beyond me."
Daenerys gave him a look before turning to Greyworm.
"What is the little girl's name?"
"Hazelle," said Greyworm precisely.
Ser Jorgan's heart skipped a beat.
"What else did she say?"
"Nothing more. She just cried."
"Her trial will be next."
Fresh fear clouded all judgment. "Why?" Ser Jorgan sprung up to his aching feet. Almost instantly the lines of Unsullied within the room brandished their spears at him. But Ser Jorgan did not care. "That little girl has suffered enough!" He shouted.
Daenerys's eyes narrowed to slits. "How dare you raise your voice to your Queen?" She took one step down the stairs. "I am the one who saved all of you. I am the one who brought you salvation. But yet you have the audacity to oppose me?"
Ser Jorgan exhaled softly. "My niece is terrified of you."
"How so?"
"That...that…" His eyes cast up to the dragon. "Your dragon killed...her family."
"Because they defied me. They defied my right to the throne. Those who died were an example of condemnation."
"Defied?" Ser Jorgan yelled, bracing himself, almost expecting to be killed where he stood, but he kept going. He hated how he felt at this moment. "How? By existing? No one opposed your arrival until you unleashed your dragon! You gave them every reason to defy you!"
There was hell in Daenerys' eyes. They were dark like the eyes of a serpent, completely devoid of joy or love. He could see it so crystal clear now. Suddenly, Ser Jorgan found the courage beginning to well up inside of him, overcoming the brief wave of nervous apprehension that had so rashly overtaken his mind.
The woman stood rigid. Her face hardened to stone. "Dra-"
"What? Add another charred corpse to the pile? Spill more blood on the floor of the Great Hall? How many peasants do you have to kill to make everyone fear you?" Ser Jorgan said vehemently. "How much fear do you want?"
Ser Jorgan was left huffing and puffing, all of his tensed muscles loosening. He needed to keep a level-head if he wished to keep Hazelle alive. "Please, my Grace, permit me to accompany her. Hazelle is young, she will be frightened by the sight of you and your dragon. Poor girl has been through so much in her short life."
"So you can tell her to lie?" Daenerys accused.
"No. So I can keep her calm. You have no idea what effects you had on the Kingdom. Hazelle will tell you everything if you simply allow me to be with her. Please take me to her cell. Her brother is gone. I am the only person she has left."
The gaping silence laid on Ser Jorgan's skin like poison. It seeped into his blood and paralyzed his brain, his pupils became dilated and there was a tremor in his hands.
"I will grant your request." Daenerys broke the silence.
Ser Jorgan released out a long sigh of relief. "Thank you. Thank you." He muttered. His knees buckled.
"But you will remain locked away in your cell. You will not be permitted to speak. Tomorrow, you will accompany her."
NEXT CHAPTER IS CEDRICK, SO THE CHAPTER I HAD BEFOREHAND. REVIEWS AND THOUGHTS. THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE.