Chapter Twenty-Seven: Viserys VI
"It's a fucking disgrace! They start a war without the Crown's leave, and they then have the gall to ask for assistance?" Jason Lannister said to the council.
"You have the right of it, Lord Jason." Jasper Wylde replied. "They started the war themselves. They can finish it themselves."
"But the amount of men lost in the conflict..." Grand Maester Mellos countered.
"Are unfortunate, but they are the men of House Velaryon and Hightower, and not of our concern." Jason Lannister bluntly retorted.
"The casualties..."
"Are something Oldtown and Driftmark should have considered before they went behind His Grace's back to attack the Stepstones." Jasper Wylde added.
"The longer this war goes on," coughed Lyman Beesbury. "The more harmful it is for everyone."
"Revenue was lowered when the Triarchy first took the Stepstones, now revenue is nothing now that sailors are not willing to pass through an active warzone." Lyonel Strong said.
"Then we regain the lost revenue by increasing taxes on House Hightower and House Velaryon." Jason Lannister swiftly replied.
"That as well as all the houses that chose to join them in their folly. Mullendore, Costayne, Bulwer, Bar Emmon, Sunglass, and all the rest." Jasper Wylde added.
"And then those houses would withdraw from the Stepstones, and the war would well and truly be lost..." the Grand Maester replied to him.
"We never had the Stepstones in the first place." Lyonel Strong said, correcting Mellos.
"It would be unwise to assume that the Triarchy would not then levy the largest possible tariffs on Westerosi ships if they have complete control-" the Master of Coin said, before erupting into a coughing fit.
"Yes, but then there would be peace. Revenue would return, albeit it at a small cost." Jasper Wylde curtly replied.
"Under massive tariffs... if we win this-" the Grand Maester said.
"Who is we, Grand Maester?" Jason Lannister asked. "I do not remember His Grace approving of this war."
"Then… if... the Hightowers and Velaryons win this war, then there would be no tariffs on Westerosi ships-"
"Then we let them win their war by themselves, as we've already gone over before." the Master of Laws interrupted.
"Surely a win would be more... assured if they have the Crown's backing... we must swallow our pride and send our aid to House Hightower and-"
"Swallow our pride?!" Jason Lannister demanded, exasperatedly. "It is an insult that they start this war, and we would be bowing to their demands if we lend our aid to them now!"
"My Lord Husband tells it true." Rhaenyra said, clutching her swollen stomach. "The Crown should not be made to follow the orders of their vassals, especially if said vassals go against the explicit wishes of the Crown."
"Princess..." the Grand Maester sighed. "I remember you supporting intervention in the Stepstones all those years ago... we would not even need to send men... you said that we had dragons as I recall... the Princess could fly in on Syrax..."
"You would send me as fodder to fight someone else's war?" Rhaenyra scoffed.
"Why would we need to risk the heir to the throne?" Jason Lannister asked, confused. "They already have one dragon, have they forgotten how to use it? If they need more, Lord Corlys could politely ask his wife to fly there with hers."
"I agree with the notion that we should not send aid to the Stepstones, Your Grace." Lyonel Strong said, calmly. "The war has only gone on for a few months. Lord Hobert and Lord Corlys are not fools. They would not have entered a war that they could not win."
"Show me the raven that they sent, Grand Maester." Jasper Wylde said, taking the piece of parchment that was laid out on the council table.
The Master of Laws read it for a moment, squinting his eyes, and sighing at what he read. "Nowhere in this states that they are in urgent need of our support. This raven must be a ploy to make us send our assistance."
"You cannot assume such a thing..." the Grand Maester gasped.
"My advice, Your Grace, is that we hold back our support unless they urgently need it." Lyonel Strong replied, carefully.
"Then I say the matter is dealt with, for the time being. The war is still young, and until a Triarchy victory is imminent, the Hightowers and Velaryons can figure out this war by themselves." Viserys said, finally speaking.
My wife shall not like this decision.
"I would not send them support ever." Jasper Wylde scoffed. "It is clear that they plan to undermine the authority of the Iron Throne. They made their bed, now let them lie in it."
"You are correct, Lord Jasper." Rhaenyra added. "They are forming a coalition against me, especially with Ser Laenor Velaryons betrothal to Alicent Hightower-"
"It is just a betrothal, Princess... His Grace cannot prevent betrothals between houses. It is absurd to think that they are planning to displace your position as heir." the Grand Maester sighed.
"I would not be so concerned with Ser Laenor's proposal, dear wife." Jason Lannister laughed. "That union is not likely to bear any fruits. It is common knowledge that Lord Corlys' son would have preferred Lady Alicent's brother instead."
Rhaenyra, along with Jasper Wylde chuckled at the jape, whilst Lyonel Strong and Grand Maester rolled their eyes, and Lyman Beesbury groaned. Larys Strong, however, did not react to Jason Lannister's comments, as he similarly did not react to anything said in the council meeting. He instead just watched everyone bicker about what should be done, not saying a word, which he usually did in council meetings.
"The matter is dealt with, everyone." Viserys said, clearing his throat and standing up. "If they plan to plot against me, I think they have forgotten that I named my daughter as heir."
"I think they have." Rhaenyra agreed, whilst the remainder of the council said nothing in response to that.
Viserys sat back down and took a long drink of his wine.
"Now... onto... other topics. Are there any other matters that concern this council?" Viserys asked.
"Yes, Your Grace." Jason Lannister said, proudly. "In fact, it is something much more... positive. My brother, Ser Tommen, has sent a raven from Lannisport has announced that he has a child. A baby lion was gifted to him by the Gods, by the name of Gerion."
"My biggest congratulations, Lord Jason." Viserys smiled. "It seems as though House Lannister is hefty with good news as of late."
"That is true, Your Grace. The number of lions in our pride shall certainly increase in the coming years. Especially with Ser Tyland's recent betrothal to Lady Johanna, and of course... the lion cub in my lady wife's stomach." Jason Lannister said, nodding to Rhaenyra.
"This one shall be part lion, and part dragon, though." Rhaenyra chuckled, holding onto her plump stomach.
"This is certainly some... uplifting news. Are there any final matters, or can we conclude on this?" Viserys said to his Small Council.
There were no other matters to be raised, so Viserys dismissed the council. Everyone made their way out, with Jasper Wylde exiting first, deep in conversation with Jason Lannister, then the Grand Maester huffed and puffed as he went with Lyman Beesbury, and Lyonel Strong and his son went away together, with the Clubfoot limping on his cane. Rhaenyra stayed behind to talk to Viserys.
"Daughter." Viserys nodded cordially to her.
"Father." Rhaenyra replied, smiling.
"It is not long now." Viserys said, gesturing to her stomach, as they walked through the outer yard.
"Yes, the maester said it shall only be two moons," Rhaenyra sighed. "It still feels strange, carrying a child. How did mother manage to do this so many times?"
She managed, until she didn't.
"Your mother was a brave woman. You take after her in that." Viserys said, sadly. "Have you received any signs as to the gender of the babe, yet?"
"No. Not that I believe any of that horseshit about signs and portents. That being said, me and Jason both feel that it is a young prince in here, for some reason." She said, stroking her belly. "That is one of the few things we can agree on, at least."
Even though Rhaenyra had come to somewhat respect her husband following their marriage, and especially her now being with child, it was still not a loving marriage between the two. Handmaidens constantly gossiped of their bickering, even about the most mundane of topics. It seemed that Rhaenyra seemed to now merely tolerate Jason Lannister, instead of despising him as she did when they first married.
"Whether it is a prince or princess, their birth shall truly brighten up the realm."
"I hope that it shall. I have even selected the egg to be placed in his cradle. It was that one Uncle Daemon stole all those years ago, when he took Dragonstone. From Dreamfyre's litter."
"Oh, I do remember that." Viserys laughed.
I do miss my brother sometimes; despite all he did to try and undermine me. I would rather him as an adversary than Corlys Velaryon or Otto Hightower, in truth.
They walked through the outer yard and the middle bailey. Snowflakes floated down from the sky, melting as they touched the ground. Winter was starting now, and now even King's Landing had started to feel the cold. Rhaenyra was dressed in a red maroon winter cloak, that was lined with sheep's fur which protected her and the babe from the winds of winter. She wore her hair in a messy bun, with no intricate braids or jewellery on her body. She looked like a true mother now.
She looks a lot like Aemma now.
As they walked across the wet mud through the middle bailey and towards the serpentine steps, Rhaenyra also took her leave.
"Do not tell me you are to go on a ride on Syrax in this condition." Viserys japed.
"No... no father." Rhaenyra laughed. "I am to go to the godswood. I shall see you later, father."
She gave a small embrace to Viserys before left for the godswood.
She spends so much time in there, these days. Does she go there to brood, or has she gained a newfound faith?
When he walked down the slippery serpentine steps, he almost fell, but quickly regained his balance before anyone noticed. Going through the lower bailey towards Maegor's Holdfast, he passed by Bartimos Celtigar and Symon Staunton, who bowed their heads as Viserys passed. Ser Lorent Marbrand, the newest member of the Kingsguard, who was posted by the holdfast, nodded at Viserys, and opened the door into the large red building and Viserys entered.
Outside Laena's quarters, posted next to a tapestry depicting the wedding of King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne, Ser Criston Cole was posted at the door. He had been Laena's sworn protector ever since Rhaenyra was betrothed. Ser Criston nodded at Viserys when he entered, and Ser Rickard Thorne, who had accompanied Viserys from the Small Council chamber, joined Ser Criston in standing guard outside of the room.
It is strange. Ser Criston and Rhaenyra were so well acquainted before her marriage. Maybe mislikes the fact that he is now sworn to Laena instead.
When Viserys entered the chambers, Laena was playing with their daughter, Baela. Laena was wearing a loose red and pink gown, that had flowers embroidered onto it. Baela was capable of walking, and she stumbled around the wooden ground for a while, before being scooped up by her mother.
Gods, she has grown.
"Laena." Viserys said to his wife.
"Husband." Laena replied, blankly.
"How do you fare?" Viserys asked, gently.
"Well enough." She responded bluntly, not looking up at him.
Viserys decided to sit down on one of the chairs, to make himself comfortable in his wife's quarters, and poured himself a cup of Dornish red.
We scarcely visit each other's bedchambers these days. Mayhaps I shall one of these days, if I am in the mood for nightly company.
"Rhaenyra thinks that she is to have a boy. I shall be a grandfather, in time."
"Oh? I am truly happy for you." Laena said, in a tone that conveyed anything but happiness. "Is that why you visited?"
"No, I came to visit my other children." Viserys smiled.
"Yes, your other children." She sighed. "Daeron is busy studying the histories with the Septa. Baela is here, of course. You can carry her if you wish."
Viserys took the girl, who was dressed in a loose red dress, and had a small black bonnet that covered her short silver hair. He carried her, and rocked his daughter for a bit, but the babe did not appreciate that. Within a minute, she started wailing, kicking and punching at Viserys with her tiny hands.
"Gods... here, give her to me." Laena hastily said, taking Baela in her arms. "It is fine, Baela, shhhhh... mother's here..."
Baela's mood quickly improved, and she stopped crying once rescued by her mother.
"She is a fighter, Baela. I shall feel that punch for the next few days." Viserys laughed, rubbing his nose.
"Yes, she is. It is no matter though, she may just be not too familiar with your face, that is all." Laena coldly replied.
Laena continued to rock the babe, before putting her in the small wooden cot, by her own bed. Then, Laena finally turned to look Viserys in the face for the first time in their conversation.
"What was discussed during your Small Council meeting?" Laena asked, curtly.
She knows.
"You know I cannot discuss the contents of Small Council meeting with you."
"I know what you discussed. My father has requested for aid in the Stepstones, hasn't he?" She asked.
Viserys just sighed and filled up his cup once again.
"And you didn't send him any aid, did you?"
Viserys looked up at his wife and glared at her. "You know I can't. They started that war without my leave."
Laena stood up from the bed and walked up to Viserys.
"The war affects you as well. You can't just leave them there and not provide aid. You would be condemning them to die!" she said, her tone significantly louder.
Gods, I cannot bear to go over this subject again. I just did so in the council chambers.
"Then they should have gotten my permission to go ahead with this war first."
"My father tried! He begged you for years to take action, but you didn't listen. He had to do something!"
"We have discussed this matter hundreds of times, I would rather not do it again." Viserys sighed.
"So you would rather condemn all those brave men to death. Including my father. The grandfather of your children, Viserys!"
I truly understand her peril, but what can I do?
"I wish I could send help, I truly do, Laena. But doing so would make the Iron Throne look weak-"
"You have already made it look weak by not naming your son as heir the moment he was born!"
Oh, so this is what it was leading to.
"Rhaenyra is my heir. I am not changing my mind about that matter, either." Viserys bluntly said to her.
"He should be heir; I've said this to you how many fucking times? By all known laws and precedents-"
How many times indeed.
"By what law? I am the King, and I have named my daughter as my heir. I do not wish to discuss this further." Viserys said, clenching his left hand, and all two fingers that were left on it.
"But I do."
"And I do not. This conversation is done, Laena."
Laena took a deep breath and sat back down on the bed and put her head in her hands.
"Yes, Your Grace." she said, her voice lowered to whisper, but that whisper had more venom than any shout could ever have. "May I take your leave, Lord Husband? Baela needs to sleep. I am taking her to the handmaidens."
"Yes, you may leave."
Laena swiftly exited the room, taking the very awake Baela, leaving Viserys with nobody for company other than his wine cup. After Viserys had finished his fifth glass of wine, he promptly got up and decided to head back to his quarters, and just walk.
He went back down the stairs of Maegor's Holdfast, and out into the cold. It had started to snow more now, and the ground was covered in a thin sheet of white, similar to the armour of Ser Rickard, who accompanied him.
Wait, why are there two Kingsguard knights accompanying me? No... it is only one... I must be seeing double…
"Your Grace, might I assist you? It is slippery out here." Ser Rickard said they approached the serpentine steps.
"No... no... I shall not need..." Viserys spluttered to Ser Rickard, before carefully ascending the slippery steps. He went up them one by one, feeling his boots sliding on the frosty stone ground underneath him.
Viserys stopped for a moment to catch his breath, but when he continued again, he felt his foot slip against the ice and suddenly he was falling. He quickly tried to grab at the railing with his left hand but couldn't reach it.
You only have two fingers, fool.
Then Viserys was lying on the ground. He could feel the snow melting into his clothes, and his head pounded hard like a drum.
"Your Grace!" someone shouted, and a white figure appeared over him.
Is that a ghost?
"Are you hurt, Your Grace?" another voice asked, as two more figures appeared, reaching out to him
Who... no… I am well… truly… why is everything going dark?
Viserys woke up in the throne room. He was standing now, and his body no longer ached. He looked down to his hands, and up around the massive hall.
I have all my fingers again.
Something about the throne room was different. It was no longer winter, but everything seemed hazy for some reason. Ahead of him stood two young men, staring at each other. One had a long red robe and golden hair decorated with silver streaks, that shone brighter than the sun. The other wore blue, and had short silver hair, similar to his mother's.
Baelon, Daeron? My, how you both have grown.
Around them, bright golden flames speckled with bright pink danced with flames of dark cobalt and bronze, and the throne room burned.
The haze is smoke.
Outside, Viserys could hear the clanging of steel, along with the screams of men and dragons alike. Viserys shouted for everything to stop, but the only thing that came out of his mouth was a pale smoke.
The smoke floated its way to Baelon, whose body started to melt away.
No... Baelon… wait… you have already died before… you are not my son…
He looked at Viserys in that moment, staring at him with his dead green eyes. Suddenly, his body was covered in burns and scars, and crows and crabs pecked at him. The smoke consumed his entire body, then made its way onto Daeron. His legs went first, twisting into unnatural shapes as they dissolved. His face was half burned and twisted. His voice croaked when he tried to scream, and his mouth foamed as the fires consumed him.
Now, the entire throne room was alight, flames of many different colours danced around the hall. Red flames, blue flames, black flames, green flames. All of them engulfed everything, and the fires then took over the Red Keep too and spread to the whole of Westeros. Everything was falling apart, and Viserys stood at the centre of it all.
He looked down to his hands. The fingers on his left hand slowly were being consumed by the smoke too. One finger evaporated away, and then the next, and suddenly his hand was just stump. The smoke crawled up his arm, eating away at it slowly. It spread to his body and his face, and the smoke took his eyes too. His entire body was now covered in smoke and fire, and he melted away along with the rest of the realm.
Suddenly, Viserys woke in a cold sweat.
Puffing and panting, he quickly looked at his arms. His left hand was still as it was before, with only two fingers on there.
Thank the Gods.
"You are finally awake, Your Grace." Said a man in grey robes.
Viserys' eyes took to a small while to adjust to the candlelight. He was laying down in his bed, and a cold wet cloth was wrapped around his head. The man who spoke to him was the Grand Maester Mellos, whilst his assistant, a younger man with dark skin and round shoulders, mixed something in a small bowl next to him.
"What..." Viserys mumbled.
"You passed out, falling down the stairs, Your Grace. You took a couple of bruises, but nothing too serious. I would advise you start to use a cane to walk around, from now on, to prevent any more… accidents." The Grand Maester replied.
"I had the strangest dream, Mellos..."
"Yes. That may be the fever kicking in. The infection in your hand has returned, it seems. But do not fret, Your Grace, I shall prepare the leeches for another round."
The assistant then looked up and tapped the Grand Maester on the arm.
"G-Grand Maester, why don't we try this? I made a poultice of herbs and medicines; it may be more… effective." The assistant said.
"Leechings have always proven to be effective with His Grace, Orwyle." The Grand Maester scoffed.
"Mellos..." Viserys whispered. "Something new won't do any harm... I shall try the poultice..."
"Y-Yes, Your Grace..." the Grand Maester said, before looking at his assistant disapprovingly.
Orwyle then handed Viserys the new medicine to drink. It was slightly bitter, with a nutty aftertaste. Viserys took another long drink, finishing the entire bowl. He then handed it back to Orwyle and looked at his left hand again.
Thankfully it was all a dream. Instead of losing my entire hand, I still have two fingers remaining.
Viserys quietly laughed to himself before falling asleep again.