Hello everyone!
I wrote this chapter and the last kind of 'together' (hence the similar names), it's like the 'Daeron grows as a king' chapters. I also wrote the dreams to work together.
Warning though: the dream today is very violent.
Anyway, enjoy!
Chapter XXXV: The bite of the viper
"Speak." He ordered Sarella. Plots against him he had expected, plans against Arianne, not so much, not so soon and definitely not in her own country.
"Prince Doran… my uncle does not have the best intentions about you, your Grace." The Sand Snake started uneasily. "He does not like you very much."
"I hope for your sake that you did not disturb me for so little… I know that Doran does not like me." Daeron snarled but still waited, the girl was no fool, surely, she had something else.
"I overheard him talk to his guard, Areo." Sarella explained and Daeron guessed the following information would be much interesting. "They think themselves safe there, for no one visits there that isn't entirely loyal to him… But I know the forgotten halls and places where guards are not found."
"What did these two gentlemen talk about?" Daeron asked curiously.
"You." He would have guessed this much. "My uncle is most pleased about Arianne's pregnancy… To put it simply, he wants to use you to win the war and then… 'dispose' of you to put his grandson on the Throne."
"Dispose of me?" He could not say he was shocked by what he heard, if an assassination attempt had been made on him, he would have suspected the man anyway. Doran had been wary of him from the start, he despised him behind mummer's politeness and was too ambitious for Daeron's liking. Not to mention the ordeal with Myrcella. Surely his plan included him as Regent or Hand of the King. But he was curious as to how he would be killed.
"He meant to use my father. He is convinced that his brother is still loyal to him more than to you." She revealed.
"And is he?" Daeron asked.
Sarella looked him in the eyes. "I don't think so, your Grace. I shall be very disappointed if that was the case." Daeron nodded.
"I must say I'm not surprised… I will talk about that matter with Oberyn, do I have your leave to tell him where my information come from?" He demanded.
"Of course." She agreed.
"You spoke of a plot against my wife as well…" He reminded her. In truth it was this one that interested and startled him the most.
"Well… I might have exaggerated." The woman looked at her feet as if embarrassed. "She is not in anymore danger than she already was…" Daeron frowned. What danger? "It's just… I heard a conversation between your cousins in the gardens. Well it was more the lady talking alone while walking with her brother."
"What could Sansa have said that would have you fear for Arianne?" He asked, impatience growing.
"I believe her exact words were: 'Arianne might die in childbirth. Her hips are not as good as mine, Mother always said a woman needs good hips. And then, I can marry Jon, now that he is only our cousin. I will be Queen, like Mother and Father wanted.'" At her words, Daeron was pretty sure his mouth dropped. Then he had a very unkingly fit of laughter, it was so absurd.
Sarella stood unperturbed. "I'm sorry." He told her wiping his laughing tears. "This is just… so far-fetched." Sure, women died in the birthing chamber, he knew that, his mother had died this way, but not all women. Arianne's hips were perfect, and she was young and healthy, not too young either. There was no reason to fear for her life as of yet. And for Sansa to have thought such a thing… In all honesty, he did not know if he should laugh or cry. "Where did she get this idea? I mean, I grew up thinking she was my sister, I could never… Even if the worst was to come… I can't even wrap my head around the idea."
"What if she tries something, your Grace?" Sarella asked seriously.
"Sansa?" He exclaimed incredulously. "She would never be capable of such a thing." Not the sweet Sansa and her dreams of fairy-tale.
"If you say so." Sarella replied politely but she seemed unconvinced.
"I will inform Arianne so that we might decide to do something about it, if that makes you feel better." He conceded, the woman seemed to relax a little. "I might need your services again, Sarella. You seemed skilled. Next time, request an audience." He looked at her unperturbed and regal as she grinned.
...
Oberyn looked puzzled when Daeron announced that he would like to ride in the desert. Even more so when he told Ser Richard that he could rest for the day and that Ser Jaime would be accompanying them instead. Daeron wanted to slowly reinstall Ser Jaime as a Kingsguard, a true one this time… They quickly departed, Daeron galloping in the front followed by a mute Ser Jaime and a brooding Prince Oberyn.
Since coming back to Dorne, he had started to feel the bond between himself and Rhoynax again. Not that it had disappeared in Kingslanding but it had been somewhat dulled. He had not yet had one of his dreams where he was the dragon though. Still, he knew where she was and that was where he was riding towards. They found Rhoynax and Weirion feasting on the carcass of a horse. The dragons merely lifted their heads to acknowledge the presence of the three men, before going back to their meal.
"Sarella is an interesting girl." Daeron said abruptly without even looking at Oberyn.
"Your Grace?" He heard the confusion in the prince's voice.
"She required an audience last night, rather unorthodoxly, I must add…" Daeron smirked, he enjoyed the look of bewilderment on his Kingsguard's face. "I understand she enjoys lurking in the forgotten halls and rooms of the palace. She made some interesting discoveries…"
"What sort of discoveries, your Grace?" Oberyn asked warily.
"Your brother seems to wish me a quick death after the war is won… To put his grandchild directly on the Throne." Ser Jaime, who had ignored the first part of the conversation, now looked to be fully attentive to the conversation.
"A plot to kill you, your Grace?" The Lannister knight asked angrily.
"Indeed, it seems my goodfather wants to make a new Kingslayer." Daeron japed bitterly.
"I would gladly keep that title for you to remain safe." Ser Jaime hissed while glaring at Prince Oberyn who looked increasingly uneasy.
"Has my daughter discovered how my dear brother plans to see you in a grave prematurely?" He asked, barely containing his own embarrassment and fury, judging by the deadly glow in his eyes.
"Prince Doran seems to believe you are still loyal to him…" Daeron revealed.
"Is he mad?" The look of genuine shock of the prince both reassured Daeron and made him laugh.
"Sarella seemed to be thinking the same thing." He told Oberyn. "I believe she said that she would be disappointed otherwise."
"Good girl." The pride for his daughter brought a small smile to Oberyn's lips. "Do you wish us to do something about Doran?" He demanded more seriously.
"No… Let him scheme… If he believes his plan might work, he will hopefully not try anything more foolish." Daeron declared.
"Your Grace…" Ser Jaime started but the king guessed the concern he was about to voice.
"I've asked Sarella to watch him closely. If there is another plot, we'll know." He reassured his Kingsguards.
"If he tries anything else, I'll kill him myself." Oberyn vowed. It startled Daeron a little… Before he met them, he had heard that the two Dornish brothers were close. He was surprised to discover how quickly the man had turned against his brother. He would have to question the man later, for he believed this was not a tale for Ser Jaime's ears.
"I would not have you become a kinslayer, Oberyn." Daeron told him softly.
"I would not mind doing it…" Ser Jaime shrugged, offering his own service. Since they had arrived, the 'uncle' of the usurper boy king had given Daeron no reason to doubt him, to his great pleasure.
"We are not killing my goodfather! Why do you think I did not bring Ser Richard?" Both men nodded. Richard Brune was as loyal a man as you could get, but Daeron had also discovered he could be impulsive. "You Ser, need training. I need strong Kingsguards…" He glanced to Jaime's golden hand before turning to Oberyn. "Can it be arranged?"
"Of course your Grace." The prince replied with a predatory smile understanding at once the wish of his King to have Jaime's left arm trained.. Daeron would not wish to be in Jaime's place. Not even for all the gold of Casterly Rock. "How is Myrcella, Ser Jaime?" Oberyn changed the subject but the king could see clear as day that he was still trying to test the man.
"Well enough…" The knight tried to look detached, but his emotions were not far underneath the surface. "She has taken the whole… situation surprisingly graciously and, she has questions, but she understands her status and has stopped asking them."
"Good." Daeron replied. Jaime passed the test and Myrcella apparently knew what was good for her, it was a relief.
...
At Daeron's request, Arianne tried to befriend Sansa in the following weeks, going so far as to name her one of her ladies-in-waiting. His wife became practically his only source of information on his cousins as Daeron was occupied with training, planning and watching out for plots. The tale she had to tell was slightly troubling. According to the Queen, sweet Sansa was more aware of the game than they had anticipated. She tried to hide behind innocence and fear, but Arianne saw a calculating mind behind all that. Cersei trained her, she said, there was no doubt of that.
Yet, his pregnant wife did not seem concerned about her own life or her babe's. Though more manipulative than anticipated, Sansa was in no way cruel like her mentor. Not yet at least, that was Tyene's opinion, which she gave when Daeron and Arianne drank tea with the older Sand Snakes. Lady Nym for her part, insisted that Sansa shall never harm Arianne, she had grown attached to the Queen according to her. It was true that Sansa clung more and more to Arianne, and less and less to Robb who was left to his own brooding in his rooms. Daeron had no wish to talk to Robb. Once the relief of his rescue had passed, all of Robb's faults had come back to his memory. He could not forgive just yet, he did not have it in him, and he would certainly never forget.
Arianne was completely indifferent to Robb, her husband guessed it had to do with her time in his camp in the Riverlands. Surprisingly, it was Oberyn who urged Daeron to go talk to his cousin. The Kingsguard had not forgotten the attack in the Reach, the one which cost Ghost his life. Neither had the king, the loss of his oldest companion was a wound that would never truly heal. Oberyn also remembered the theory he had formulated when Daeron had first come to Dorne. He was still persuaded that Lord Bolton was responsible. To be certain, they needed to talk to Robb.
They did, Robb looked uneasy when they started to question him about Roose Bolton, rightfully so. Daeron guessed his cousin had to be ashamed and cursing himself for trusting such a man. After all, his trust in him had cost him everything, Bolton had been plotting against Robb all along. His men were also responsible for Jaime's hand. Daeron remembered the tale Jaime had told him one night on the ship. The story of his escape with Brienne of Tarth.
Apparently, the man had made himself indispensable to Robb by shutting him away from his lords. Playing on the young lord's insecurity, he started as soon as they left Winterfell, accusing Glovers, Umbers, Karstarks and Manderlys alike. Every time Robb and he were alone together, even if it was just in passing, he reported mockery, talks of treason and the likes. Not all of them were false, that was his strength… At the beginning of the war especially, there were men mocking Robb. Then, he started giving advice to make himself shine. In the beginning, they were sensible, like proposing that his bastard save Bran and Rickon… Afterwards, less so, Daeron was stunned to discover that sending the Dornish delegation away was Bolton's idea. He had given Robb false reports about how the men viewed the foreigners and Robb, who did not know his troops well enough, believed him, no doubt encouraged by his own grudges.
"Do you know how Ghost died?" Daeron asked barely succeeding at containing his anger.
"You were attacked?" Robb guessed unsurely.
"Out of the blue!" Daeron confirmed, "with nothing marking us as anything but Dornish. Anything except the very northern horse Bolton gave me before I left. And I have a feeling they knew about Ghost as well, not about the dragons though…"
"Lord Bolton gave you a horse? You saw him before you left?" That seemed to be news for Robb.
"I did…" Daeron said while thinking about the other things Bolton might have hidden from his liege. "I guess you did not know that. But again, it is not the only thing you did not know about Lord Bolton… Tell me what happened at that wedding? In details!" Daeron demanded. He had wanted to know for moons now.
"It was quite rushed…" Robb started to explain. "We arrived at the Twins around noon. Lord Frey offered bread and salt that Mother, Talisa, Uncle Edmure and I all ate. I apologized, to him first than to all his daughters and granddaughters whom he'd assembled before me. I then had to remain silent while he insulted me and my wife, though in the end he said he understood. I thought we were doing well, as well as we could have. Bolton confirmed. We were only given a few hours to freshen up before the wedding.
"It turns out Roslin was not the monstrous looking woman I had thought she would be. My uncle was quite pleased." Daeron could hear Oberyn laugh but he himself did not find the whole ordeal amusing. "They were wed in a normal ceremony in the sept of the castle. At the wedding feast… well, my uncle was bewitched by his new wife, Lord Frey was amiable enough and all seemed fine. That is, until the bedding… The lord insisted that only the heirs of every House participate in the bedding… Because 'the heir to Riverrun will be conceived tonight' he said, 'being accompanied by the heirs would bring luck' he insisted. I found it odd but saw no reason to anger the lord.
"Once they were out, the doors were closed, and the musicians started to play 'The Rains of Castemere'. I don't believe anyone noticed at first... Well, maybe Lord Glover, but Bolton cut his throat to the bone before he could get a sentence out. Then, he and his men restrained me. In the shock and confusion, I did not have time to react… Meanwhile, one of Lord Frey's sons went to my wife and stabbed her belly many times with a knife. Killing her and the baby. I tried to break free, but it was no use, they were at least ten on me. I remember screaming. I watched as the high lords of the North were slaughtered. And the worse part was this music… It continued all through the massacre. Archers put a dozen arrows in the GreatJon, Maege Mormont was stabbed in the back, Ser Manderly… they smashed his head on the table before cutting his belly open. And it went on and on. I think I collapsed at some point because I don't remember the end.
"I next woke up in a cell… I was alone in it, but I could see the other cells where they had put the heirs all together. I know they were looking at me and some tried to talk to me but… I don't think I answered. The journey to King's Landing is a blur as well…" Robb ended with his head hung low. He sprung it back up to say, "The Freys… They will have to pay."
"Oh don't worry, they will burn, their castle as well… I wouldn't want to have only one bridge across the river any longer anyway." Daeron replied nonchalantly. "But a weasel and a coward like Walder Frey would have never acted alone… Bolton will die screaming and Tywin Lannister as well…" He continued with more fire in his voice.
"Bolton did tell me to send his regards to Tywin before he sent me to the capital." Robb seemed to recall. Daeron was stunned to realize that Robb had not even grasped the full extent of what had happened to him. "What will you do?" The young Stark lord asked.
"Oh I don't know yet… I'll have to think about it… This revenge must be sweet. Therefore, I have to be patient, find the best way to do it." Daeron knew he had a predatory smile on his face at this moment.
...
Daeron went to bed angry that night. Never before had the need to make his enemies suffer been felt so direly. Maybe it had to do with the list of his enemies growing by the day.
Harrenhal. That was where he was, the burnt ruins of the monstrous castle were unmistakable even in the rain that had decided to trouble his dream. Daeron walked the few yards that separated him from the castle. It appeared empty as he walked through some of the first halls. In the fifth, he discovered a man brooding. He wore the sigil of House Targaryen as a broach to hold his green cloak in place. An odd choice of colour for a Targaryen Daeron thought. There was no mistaking he was a member of his House. The silver hair confirmed it, as well as the apparent wealth he possessed. His armour was black and gold. His back was turned away from Daeron.
When he turned, the young King almost had a movement of repulsion. In the place of one of his eyes, the man had embedded a sapphire. Aemond Targaryen, the one-eyed prince and the Kinslayer, the man who had slain his nephew.
"You're in need of inspiration boy?" Daeron guessed immediately that the mocking tone was a staple of the prince.
"Pardon?" He had not understood the question really.
"You want inspiration for your vengeance? I have many ideas… And a lot of frustration as I never managed to make them happen." Aemond was such a dark person that he made Daeron shudder with every sound he made. Even the noise of his chair turning sent chills up the young man's back. The Kinslayer interpreted his silence as an invitation to continue. "For my half-sister, I had many ideas… Oh, I could have force fed her until she bursted. She did love her food, it made her fat." He muttered. "But that would have been too sweet a death for her though… She could have been cut into six pieces like they did to my brother, though that would have been more appropriate for her sons, the bastards or my uncle's sons, I don't care. Then, I had this idea of tearing her womb from her body and let it dangle like a cock… That's what she missed all her life." He had an insane burst of laughter. Daeron swallowed with difficulty. The accounts on Aemond One-eye did not do him justice. The man was a worst monster than even perhaps Maegor, and his hatred for Rhaenyra ran deep.
"I don't believe this would be appropriate for my vengeance." Daeron tried carefully and politely, better not to anger the man.
"Then what I wanted to do to my uncle perhaps… Seven Hells… the bastard caused trouble. Somedays I dreamt that I was burning him alive but with time I realized it would have been much too fast. No, feeding him his manhood would have been a start, then maybe cutting away a different part everyday. The tongue, the ears, the fingers, the feet… I would have ended with his eyes, like I should have done to Lucerys. This bastard had a merciful death." Daeron would definitely not have called dying with his dragon attacked by another in the middle of a storm a mercy. "I could go on with their children and every treasonous lord, but I see this is not working for you boy. So, tell me, why exactly do you want revenge?"
Daeron cleared his throat. "Where to start? Armory Lorch and the Mountain are idiots, at this point I just want them to die. Quickly or not I don't care, so long as they suffer."
"Fire then." Aemond replied pragmatically, as if it was nothing.
Daeron resumed after a small nod. "The Freys will all have to pay, possibly with some sort of feast… Or something reminiscent of a feast."
"Good! I hate the Freys as well… You can all have them poisoned together, or no! I have better! You kill one half by roasting them alive in one of the towers and serve them in a pie to the ones in the other tower along with the poison." Daeron had to admit, Aemond's idea was creative and so very tempting. "There's more?" the monster asked excitedly.
"Lord Bolton." Daeron did not have time to say more that the prince already had an idea.
"Easy, flay him. Next!" He demanded.
"Well… then there is Joffrey. The boy who currently sits the Iron Throne. He's a bastard born of incest from the Lannisters but raised as a Baratheon. He's cruel, insane and a coward." Only the last adjective could not be applied to the man in front of him he realized. Aemond frowned, so Daeron gave him more details. "He hid behind his mother's skirts when one battle came too close to him… And then he boasted that he won the war… He enjoys raping and beating women but cannot even hold a sword…" He tried to think of other things Sansa had told Arianne.
Yet, Aemond seemed to find the description sufficient. "Likes to be protected, flees before the danger, doesn't want to make an effort…" He summarized. "I think I have just the thing. First, have his mother raped and killed before him. Then, take him into the streets attached by a rope to a horse, naked and with a crown of… of thorns! He's a usurper after all… Once you've paraded him through King's Landing and you reach the gates, have the horse go quicker. The time will come where he does not have the energy to follow anymore. He'll fall and his body will break on the dirt and rocks… You'll end up with a bloody, dead usurper." He ended his demonstration with a smile. "I've heard of savages who do that in the East. Very creative…"
"Indeed…" Daeron replied but he could not believe he was seriously considering anything that Aemond could suggest. He ought to have felt disgusted or ashamed of himself, but he was not.
Aemond took advantage of Daeron's thinking to change the direction of the conversation. "They don't speak well of me in your times, do they?" Daeron was startled by the question. He would have guessed that the man did not care about his reputation.
"To be honest, they speak ill of most of our family." Daeron sighed. "But yes, yours is one of the stories that are told to frighten children."
"Cursed is the Kinslayer…" Aemond mumbled. "Harrenhal is said to be cursed as well." He reflected. "Curses… religion… sin… family… inventions to scare women and smallfolks, nothing more." Daeron's eyes widened. He thought it might be a good time to take his leave of the prince. He had felt enough uneasiness, disgust and confusion for a month at least. He wondered if this did not have something to do with his last dream… He had seen that seemingly good decisions sometimes lead to unseen bad outcomes. Maybe the other way around was true as well. Torture was not right by all accounts but, what was right really?
So, we get quite the revelations in this chapter... First the plots which I don't find very creative myself, but they work, in my opinion. Then, the Red Wedding, what are your thoughts on that? And the dream, I wanted to have one where Daeron discovers a dark side of himself... Hope I succeeded.
Quick warning: I'm starting a new job next week so I might be late in my updates, will do my best!
Next chapter: Daeron develops a new skill and a new prince comes in.
Guest reviews:
- Just because he caused it does not mean it was not awful... and I think he's payed for it, not enough, but it'll come.
It is not his fault but indirectly, it is a result of one of his decisions, that's what I tried to show in this dream.
Wholeheartedly agree with your opinion on Margeary ;).
Again, with the northern lords, it is not Daeron's fault, but, hypothetically, it could have been avoided if Daeron had stayed. Good actions can lead to indirect bad outcomes. But it does not mean I think it's his fault.
Oh wow... I can't believe I forgot something so important! You're absolutely right. I'll try to update last chapter during the week to include Jaime's reaction. So sorry, thank you for pointing it out.
- That's actually the point of having a child in this story, this way, Daeron will realise he cannot afford to lose... and it will complicate matters...
Also, it's medieval times... I know about moon tea but contraception does not strike me as something that is well accepted or used by married couples, even if it is not the time. I mean Eddard Stark had a pregnant wife when he rebelled for instance.
- (Hitman) I hope you are not disappointed with the plots. Don't worry, I plan to make the first meeting with Olenna quite entertaining ;).