AN: Shiver my timbers, shiver my sails! Dead men tell no tales! Except when they do in the form of flashbacks or nice musical numbers. But that's besides the point. Point is, Westeros is full of dead men walking and it is Edelgard's duty to address that… by killing them.
AtW: Ye.
CW: So vote today for your favorite pick in Westeros's Next Cadaver!
Commission - Flame Emperor III
The King was dead.
Her mother was dead.
In truth, the Seven Kingdoms stood in a moment of utter turmoil. One that would have lasting consequences beyond just this rebellion. Tywin Lannister was powerless and humiliated, Jon Arryn's heirs were dead, the North had a triple alliance with the Vale and the Riverlands, Dorne's claim to the throne was gone, and of all the nations only the Reach had not suffered disaster or occupation or civil war. She herself stood as the leader of a particularly shaky coalition of loyalists and allies, made so weak because of betrayal and tyranny both.
And despite all of that… Edelgard was happy.
Content, perhaps, was a better way to put it.
Fraught with worry and driven up the wall by anger only a commander surrounded by incompetetent buffoons could relate to.
But for the first time since she was reborn, Edelgard was free.
Free of the pressures of demanding parents.
Free of playing second fiddle to a brother consumed by an obsession with an immutable destiny.
Free of the lies and pretenses.
Yes, Edelgard could honestly and truthfully look out her window and admit that this new land she'd found herself in finally felt like a worthwhile home to defend.
And that was all thanks to the bundle of joy she watched from across her study. Dutifully tended to by her older brother as the babe gurgled in joy, ignorant of the bloody war being waged for the future of their family.
From the moment she had retrieved her siblings, Edelgard had refused to be separated from them, having set up a room for all four of them, Hresvelg included. Heavily guarded at all times, it doubled as her office, a large oak desk having been dragged over so that she could work in their company.
Working in the presence of an infant had been… an experience.
As had been the first few days following her sister's birth.
She just looked so totally fragile.
It had taken the reincarnated woman a full day to realize that she didn't need to hold her like spun glass. Even now she kept half an eye on the maid in the corner of the room, dirty nappies were not something she was eager to have to deal with, and mostly focused on the letter in front of her.
'Countering Varys must be done now.' A flicker of ember was lit in her stomach. 'The very idea I'd dare hurt Viserys is absurd. But, considering my family, it must be addressed.' She closed her eyes. 'But how specifically? Simply saying Viserys is alive leaves the door open for him to be presented as a hostage. Moreover a later usurpation would still be expected.'
Grunting, she gave up on the task for now. Though she knew a raven would need to be sent out within the next few days at the absolute latest, carelessly wording her denunciation of the eunuch would be….
"Oh. That's obvious." Varys wasn't actually a noble. Despite how everyone referred to him as a lord, he was just a foreign eunuch with connections, intelligence, cunning, the ability to plan ahead, and a ruthless streak a mile long. Denouncing him as a foreign infiltrator, a spy for rival Essosi nations, and playing up the fact that he was a eunuch, effeminate, and preferred a woman's weapons meant she could simply get men to think less of him.
After all, she didn't need the rebels to cast him out, merely mistrust his words and disregard them. The most dangerous and cunning of her foes wouldn't be convinced, obviously.
But even if it was just the lowest common denominator, she would have scored a victory!
'I'll need to attempt to find evidence to actually arrest and try him properly. Though that might actually be the hardest part of this entire rebellion. As it is, I simply need to neutralize his ability to sow seeds of doubt in my allies and to give good advice to my enemies.'
A proper accounting of the eunuch's actual treason would need to be established later, though for now it was clear he at least was an enemy of the Targaryens.
Jotting down the notes, she scrawled the words in her personal shorthand. Even now, with Saltspear rooting on the Spider's agents, the island wasn't secure. And the simple fact is that it wouldn't be until a Targaryen ruled here again.
Even then it would need to be scoured, top to bottom, and every trace of their enemies burned away. 'Father was at least right about that much. Fire washes flesh from the bone and sin from the soul alike.'
There was a knock at the door to her office and the princess looked up, knowing what to expect.
"They are gathered, my princess."
She smiled at Arthur.
"Then let us convene this council of ours. And let us see if the gods have been good."
He gave her a sharp nod and the royal stood, passing her sworn sword the still drying note, and the young woman felt her lips tug up in a smile.
Her brother was bent over their younger sister's crib, tickling her belly, and letting her grab at his fingers. When she came over to his side, the lad looked, a bit sad but mostly happy, and smiled at her.
"Dany looks like Mother."
Pausing for a moment, the princess inclined her head, thoughts of the conversation she'd had with her mother's tomb racing through her mind. But memories of that early morning monologue did not have such a command over her tongue that she could not speak.
"Aye. In a few years, she will be beautiful. By the time she is a woman grown I suspect she will be the most desirable woman in the Seven Kingdoms."
That drew a frown from the young lad.
"We shouldn't let anyone have her." Seemingly struggling with finding the words he wanted, the young lad looked deeply, deeply concerned. "Maybe the Tyrells. They were loyal. But not any of the traitors." Wanting to comfort her brother, but deeply concerned by the look of fear in his eyes the young woman was unsure what to do. "If even Mother and Father couldn't always tell who the traitors were, how are we supposed to keep her safe." His shoulders slumped. "I can't even swing a sword."
Hugging the young lad, Edelgard simply held the boy tight, trying to pour her love and affection and comfort into him. Kissing the top of his head, she finally let Viserys go.
"Then Ser Arthur will train you. And we will prepare. I… failed to save most of our family, for that I beg your forgiveness, but I swear to you I will die before I allow any ill fate to fall upon you or Dany." Chuckling, she ruffled her brother's mop of silver hair. "And I see you've already given her a nickname."
Viserys blushed.
"Danaerys reminded me of Father a bit." He shrugged. "It doesn't really fit her."
Edelgard agreed. But not for the reasons her brother believed.
Aerys had been a flawed man who turned to madness when his hold on power slipped and those who feared him turned to hate him in turn.
Her siblings would never become like that bitter angry shell. This much she swore.
They deserved better.
Viserys deserved a decent example, someone who would teach him to find his own way as a man. Someone who would teach him to be strong, but temper that strength with a soft touch. Something Edelgard herself did not have.
And Daenerys… her sister deserved a world free of ugliness. So that her eyes would never darken and harden.
Ironically, very much unlike her older sister.
'The world only needs one of me.' One tyrant to bring it to heel.
One to piece it back together.
And deliver it to her better half to rule.
Squeezing his shoulder, the princess stood there and simply took in the moment with her family. Thoughts of the war distant for the moment. Ultimately they had to cut their time short. Scooping up Danaerys in one arm, the princess held out her hand to her brother. He took it and the trio left the room, pausing only to let Hresvelg scramble ahead of them, awkwardly ambling along like a scaly dog.
When the maid started giggling, it got Viserys laughing, and even Ser Arthur chuckled in amusement. Edelgard indulged in a few laughs of her own.
Moments like these were important, for in this good humor she was fortified against what would come next. Primarily the meeting of the loyalist lords that had been able to gather in the last seventy two hours. Which, unsurprisingly, was a great number of the ones that were still eager to advance their own causes while the crown was weak.
The walk was short and two men at arms, in the Red and Black of House Targaryen stood guard at the doors of the Chamber of the Painted Table.
Pushing them open, they snapped a salute to the royal family. And, taking this as an invitation, Hresevelg leapt up, snapped out his wings, and soared into the room. A loud gasp went up from the crowd within, the dragonling landing on the back of a large wooden chair, and rearing up to his full size.
Not particularly massive, the young dragon was no greater than a medium sized dogs in the body… however, smoke was already curling from his nostrils and with his wings and tail it made Edelgard's little corpse eater seem quite a bit more impressive.
She also appreciated the distraction, and the symbolism, of the dragons arriving in force.
"My lords, Ser knights."
Assembled before her were the Lords of the Crownlands that remained free. Chiefly amongst them were Celtigar, Bar Emmon, and Sunglass. Lucerys Velaryon himself was there with a few of his captains, representing the Royal Navy, and Lord Rosby too. So too was Ser Willem Darry, Maester Cressen, Septon Barre, and Jate Blackberry, Dragonstone's Captain of the Guard.
In truth, this wasn't even everyone whom she would desire. Dragonstone's castellan had been found dead by poison, the master of the docks was missing, his chambers empty, and the steward was ill with fever - though Edelgard suspected poison here as well.
Moreover, there were some thirty other minor lords and ladies in the castle of various stations and abilities along with some two hundred landed knights. Each of whom was eager to make a play and establish their own base of power. Something she would have to navigate even now, so as to avoid any fatal missteps.
They rose, the quickest among them bowing and a few even kneeling.
"My princess!"
"My king!"
And there it was. Half acknowledged her, the other half acknowledged Viserys.
"Greet your king." Her voice was like ice, her glare was filled with anger, and she let a bit of her temper show. Just enough that even those that acknowledged her eight year old brother flinched, as they had been watching her, not him, when they did so. "And do so properly."
Going to one knee, every man in the room, save for the guards - though they did snap to attention, bent their heads to Viserys.
"Your Majesty." They murmured as one.
Sniffing, Edelgard expressed her disapproval for their little ploy, most likely preplanned, as bluntly as she could. Now was not the time for subtlety, not when it could breed… dissent.
"More acceptable. I will trust you will not need another reminder in the future."
Viserys cleared his throat when no one responded.
"You may rise."
He pulled away with some hesitation but, after Edelgard squeezed his hand, he took his seat on the wooden throne.
The princess herself stood to his right, Hresvelg bumping his head against her shoulder and tickling Dany's cheeks with his tongue, drawing a giggle from the child in question, whose chubby little hands he permitted himself to be crudely fondled and groped by, the babe tugging on the blunt nubs that would one day grow into mighty horns.
Together she hoped they would present the image of control and perhaps potential.
To that end, she had her brother dressed in black satin, a pressed doublet with hose and breeches lined with silver piping. His doublet had a dragon woven it in cloth of gold and, more importantly, a hidden dagger in a secret pocket about his waste. She herself had dressed in a dark black tunic and men's trousers, her boots actually clacking against the wooden floor. Neither were technically wearing mourning clothes, as might be expected, but she struggled to find anything that wouldn't make them appear overly pale and somber and more like the living dead than not.
So she had chosen, instead, to simply appear ominous.
"Firstly, I and the king thank you for showing true loyalty in such trying times. Furthermore, know that your fealty will be acknowledged and rewarded once the rebels have been dealt with."
Lord Rosby stepped forward first, dressed in samite and with a sword belted at his waist.
"It is our deepest pleasure to serve the royal house, Princess, but, as chosen representative of the land bound lords of the Crownlands, I must express great concern. As we march to rally at King's Landing, our own lands and keeps are left exposed, moreover many of us simply can not reach the city without engaging rebel forces."
Nodding, she turned to Lord Velaryon.
"And the Royal Navy stands ready to assist."
At that, he frowned, stepping forward in turn. He, the princess noted, wore chainmail and had an axe at his hip.
"I'm afraid there's a bit of trouble on that point, Princess." Here he turned to Viserys, clearly the first test of the royal family's dynamics, and bowed. "While I have no desire to impugn your sister's honor, the simple fact is that the Spider quite thoroughly spread rumors of your royal father's death at her hands. And while I hold no doubt that those words were no more than vile slander, the men do have their worries and doubts about your own… safety."
Snarling, Viserys rose to his feet.
"My good sister, my niece, my nephew, and my father were murdered by vile traitors and usurpers! The worst kind of murderers. Even the former Maestar Pycelle turned against him and counseled him to let assassins into his midst. It was my sister who held the city, saved the small folk, and crushed the wretches who sought to sack my home!" Taking a deep breath, he collapsed back to the throne, suddenly a bit sheepish. "Please don't insult her again, Lord Velaryon, I am… young, but not stupid. I love her and I trust her."
Bowing, their distant cousin seemed satisfied and even apologized.
"Then I beg your pardon, my king, I am most pleased by this response."
Inclining his head, the eight year old king tried to look dignified. Instead, he mostly came off as worried and a bit subdued. However, he then suddenly sat up straighter.
"It occurs to me that I can solve this problem now. I, Viserys III Targaryen, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm declare my sister, Edelgard Targaryen, Princess of Dragonstone, Hand of the King, and appoint her as Marshall of the Royal Armies for the duration of the present campaign." Blushing deeply, he looked up at his older sister. "If that's ok with you?"
Prodding Hresvelg through their bond, the lady knight bade her dragon to give a shriek and let loose a burst of smoke and embers, jolting the group present and drawing the attention away from her brother's fumble.
"Of course I do my foolish little brother." Her eyes were softer than her words, preventing the rebuke from being any more than mild even with her tone so low. "Yes, my king, I accept this honor with all due solemnity."
This time she spoke more loudly, making sure everyone in the room understood which of them held the authority. Propriety aside, their mother had acted on a rather unwise, if understandable, impulse when she crowned Viserys. And now Edelgard would have to groom him into rising to the occasion, youth be damned.
What followed next was a general airing of complaints and concerns, from the petty to the serious, and this argument was only interrupted by Danaerys loudly announcing her hunger.
Thankfully, this excuse allowed the rather tense atmosphere to break and chairs and food were brought for everyone. And it was to the sound of a hungry dragon and even hungrier babe eating and drinking respectively that their arguments actually reached a fruitful point.
"So it is confirmed. Lord Velaryon will retain his post of Master of Ships, Lord Rosby will serve as Master of Whispers for the duration of the conflict. The Master of Laws, Master of Coin, and the King's Justice will need to be appointed later on. When Ser Selmy is recovered, and if found to still be loyal, he and Ser Lannister will serve as my brother's protectors until such time as Sers Hightower and Whent can also be recovered. At which point, the Kingsguard will need to be restored to seven members. Until that time, Ser Willem will be his chief protector and his sworn shield."
This got a murmur of agreement and Willem Darry looked a bit unsure, but did not object, instead simply nodding his head. Edelgard made a note to speak to him later.
Both because she felt a bit guilty about how she had treated him previously and to assure him that she actually, genuinely appreciated the fact that he was willing to stand up to her to defend Viserys. It took a strong man to face certain death and she knew that if she had given the man a moment longer to think things through, he would have tried to fight her no matter what.
"I would like to insist that we confirm the ships now, please."
Viserys was sitting up straight, sipping from a cup of mixed wine and water.
"It sits ill with me that men loyal to the crown might be left to die or worse."
Edelgard felt a surge of pride at his words. Something they had discussed previously was what she thought was the appropriate way forward and, perhaps to her discredit, she was willing to leave the few thousand men of the Crownlands to do as they would. After all, they were small in number and the scattered Royal Army was both more strategically significant and more accessible. But he had insisted that as many men as possible be supported and saved.
"Aye, your Majesty." Lord Celtigar spoke first. "I will take two hundred ships and we will gather the men from the Crownlands and bring them here. The island will serve as a staging ground and a reserve, with the wounded being moved to the islands of Driftmark, Dragonstone, and Claw to recuperate in safety, while the Royalist forces are moved to King's Landing."
Lord Valeryon interjected here.
"Your Majesty, I must interject. Mercy is a virtue, but already four hundred of our ships have been assigned. Should we spread the royal fleet too thin, we risk allowing the Lannister fleet or, gods forbid, the Ironborn to strike in force."
Squeezing Viserys's shoulder, the princess encouraged her brother to speak his mind.
"Aye, my lord, but the truth is… we need every man we can get. One hundred ships to go North along the coast and to strike at rebel garrisons, one hundred held in reserve to patrol and protect the Bay, two hundred to transport our men, and six hundred under your command to circle the continent and then push up along the coast of the Westerlands. With the Redwynes, surely such a fleet could only be overcome by the gods?"
"Indeed." The Master of Ships inclined his head. "But we will also need to leave patrols against pirates, raiders, and to protect against enemy forces and transports too."
Edelgard spoke up here.
"Then perhaps we could open the royal treasury. Pay off some of the pirates to harass our enemies, if only to distract them from our own trade and shipping, and perhaps we could hire a few sell sails as well."
Shrugging, Lucerys Velaryon, tall and with strong Valyrian features, tried to communicate his acceptance and his hesitation.
"If that is your will, then it shall be done."
Maestar Cressen raised his hand.
"Your Majesties, it is done."
Passing along a letter, he allowed first Viserys and then Edelgard to read it.
On the page was a succinct, ruthless assassination of Vary's character, a list of crimes that included giving false council, giving information to the rebels, and for spreading false rumors about the royal family, and a short passage that made it clear that House Targaryen was alive and united.
"Good. See that a raven is sent to every lord in the realm."
Hresvelg took that as his cue to let out a garbled screeching roar, the princess's hand running soothing circles over his head as the Lords and Knights present looked at the small, yet decidedly bigger than it had been just a few days ago, dragon.
Already the size of a large hound, the dragon had already exceeded the last dragon the Targaryens had owned. Not misshapen or sickly as it had been. It was healthy and strong, its scales the color of iron, sharp teeth peeking out of its mouth like daggers, claws like sickles curling over the back of the throne.
"Of course, there is also the subject of our dear Hresvelg. His growth, as you may all attest, is astounding. Beyond anything the Seven Kingdoms have seen in the past two hundred years. And he's yet to show any sign of stopping."
She couldn't have painted a more vivid image.
The figure of a dragon, smoke and ash left in its wake as it glided over the battlefield.
The shadow of death.
The power behind the Iron Throne.
A careful nod and murmured acquiescence pleased her immensely.
Lord Sunglass spoke next, his low, heavy voice odd for such a tall and thin man.
"And is there any plan to negotiate? You have mentioned you intend to go south, to recover the lost Kingsguard, to find Lyanna Stark, and to counsel the Martells. I do not wish to speak treason, but it can not be said that the rebels are without just cause is opposing your father."
Once again the room grew tense, a number of the other men present glaring at Lord Guncer, but House Sunglass was a pious and dutiful sort, the kind that valued honor almost as much as those in the North did.
"No, we will not negotiate." Edelgard's tone was hard. "Treason aside, to ask for a parley now would be a sign of weakness. King's Landing is still ours, the royal crowns are still ours, the royal treasury is still ours, and we yet outnumber our foe in the field. I have personally sent men to ensure that Storm's End will fall and, once I have treated with the Dornish, I will ride to assume command of the army of the ."
"The gods look favorably upon the merciful."
His response was simple and poignant for that reason. More than just being a statement of piety, it underscored how many lords and ladies feared and hated Aerys and that he truly was a hated king. Being brutal and merciless could very much drive more nobles to rebellion, either now or later, while being conciliatory could be taken for a desire to avoid more death.
"And mercy is oft called weakness." She raised a hand to forestall any objections. "But it is also the indulgence of the strong. Until such time as we have the rebels in chains, any offer of mercy is likely to be taken as fear and an admission of guilt."
The room seemed to be split at that announcement. At least a few of the men seemed to favor suing for peace, though most were angry at the idea of doing anything other than hanging the rebels, at least if their murmed words could be trusted. Hearing this, Septon Barre spoke up and voiced his own concerns.
"And then what of the smallfolk? Should we continue this conflict, more will surely suffer plunder and rape and hardship."
"And what of the nobles who have been wronged and tormented for their loyalty!" Lord Duncan Bar Emmon was a fat man with a pock marked face and a voice even deeper than Lord Sunglass's. "At Gulltown Marq Grafton had his skull crushed in and body defiled by Robert Baratheon. According to rumor, the slain loyalists were shovelled into an uncovered pit and their baggage and effects were all taken as spoils! I'm not so foolish as to deny the fact that plunder is part of the sport of war, but this was gross. Offensive, even, to have the bodies of noblemen disgraced and treated like they were gutter trash dead of leprosy."
"And such offenses will be addressed when our enemies sue for peace. But no earlier." The young King soothed the Lord. "The lords and ladies of the Realm are worthy of dignity and respect upon death, let us not forget our enemies too are lords. Their savage acts are proof that the gods stand with us."
Edelgard wisely kept from speaking. This was where her brother was to prove himself before their allies. Not as a mouthpiece for his tyrant sister, but as the future ruler of their country.
"When victory is ours to claim and the rebels are driven by their desperation to bend the knee, only then will we demand reparations for the insults they piled upon the Crown. And it will be our duty to pass judgement. But only then."
He had to show their allies he was not given to anger and madness as his father.
That he understood the duty, the weight of the crown he must eventually bear.
Edelgard could not fight all battles for him. Only those where enemies were to be slain. In battles of words and intentions, her brother must learn to make his opinions known and words heard from the lowliest peasant to the highest of lords.
He still sounded awkward.
She could hear an echo of uncertainty to his words.
Which was why she was present. Why she brought Hraesvelg.
There would be a time for being rational and merciful and wise. And there was time for tyranny, savagery, and fire. Edelgard represented the latter, branding herself in the eyes of people as a greater danger than the Mad King. A dragon in human flesh who wore clothes died with blood.
Her dragon, a promise of pain and destruction.
They would choose peace.
Choose her reasonable, precious brother.
If only to spare themselves her wrath.
After all, there was a very good reason her father had sent her away from King's Landing after she rejected his order to wed Rhaegar. And there was an even better reason why he welcomed her back the second things grew difficult.
Things progressed from there, the nobility seemingly pleased with Viserys's dedication to kindness. And the obvious ploy of her being the monster was enough to soothe them too, for they themselves had likely used such a strategy at one point or another. The difference being that Edelgard was fully capable and willing to go to lengths that would horrify the men in the room.
But that need not be said, merely hinted at. Implied just enough that their nightmares would conjure up fates far more terrible than any she herself could come up with.
So as the meeting came to a close and Danaerys was put to bed and Viserys himself fell asleep in their shared bed, exhausted from the long day, Edelgard sat at her desk as her two men attended her. Most tellingly, Saltspear seemed frustrated and the blood under his fingernails spoke of ill fortune.
"Speak, my trusted knight, what has happened?"
Bowing his head, the Ironborn radiated silent anger.
"After a hired knife tried sticking me in my kidney, my mail proving stronger than a pig iron pig sticker, the lads and I tracked down most of the Spider's little birds. We wrung their necks when we figured out they knew nothing, but we did recover a few letters." Here he pulled a stack of parchment bound with twine out of his jacket. "They were burning some, but had only just started. More importantly, we found gold, poison, and supplies."
"But?" Ser Dayne's raised eyebrow spoke for the whole room in that moment.
"But this was obviously there for us to find." Ser Saltspear's gruff words communicated exactly how displeased he was with this turn of events. "And I found no hints as to whether the Spider truly abandoned his network on the island or if he still has little birds here. Moreover, I suspect that there may be more knives loyal to him on the island."
This time it was Edelgard's turn to question his conclusion.
"You suspect nothing, Gyles. I know you well enough to understand you wouldn't hesitate to delegate this problem if it wasn't serious."
Nodding, the man admitted his true concerns.
"Aye. The key issue is that the Spider had so long to spread his web, I strongly suspect that half the captains who dock here and half the whores in the port town report back to him one way or another."
"So what do you suggest?"
Arthur's tone was tired, clearly all the intrigue was wearing on him and the knight was struggling to do more than tread water.
"Well, seamen like to gossip."
The princess immediately grasped what Saltspear was suggesting.
"You want to give them a scandal to report." She sighed. "And I take it you have one in mind?"
An apologetic smile was her only answer and the princess could already feel a headache starting to form.