—At the Red Keep—
In the tower room at the heart of Maegor's Holdfast, Daemon paced around his innermost chambers in confinement. Madness! Madness that had quickly deteriorated so fast before his very eyes.
Parliament abruptly disbanded, its members detained and labeled as traitors to the realm, General Gerion shot and killed MP Quentyn Manwoody in front of everyone in less than a heartbeat, one of his brother's enforcers hitting him in the stomach that caused his passing out… but the sight of Sharra and Samson being hauled away by Argilac's men before losing consciousness… what was he thinking? What was Argilac planning on doing to them? The dishes piled up on the table beneath his window until Daemon demanded the servants leave him alone. Sometimes he wondered how long they kept him locked in his room. Multiple servants came and went, bringing meals, but the sight of food was more than he could bear.
He could see from outside his window a large gathering of protestors near the gates of the Red Keep on the streets below already. He had not seen so many gathering in one place. They must have figured out what had happened. This will not end well. These people do not even realize what Argilac's capable of when you get right in his face like that… Brother, what have you done? he wondered.
When they finally came for him, Daemon could hear their clanking footsteps marching in near-perfect unison. Disciplined, fearless… these men were the elites. It was they who opened his door before slamming it behind them and glared at him menacingly.
"What do you want?" he demanded.
"The King has demanded your presence. Come with us."
"I can escort myself—"
They then drew their swords and flintlocks at him. "Come with us. Now. We will not say it again," the leading one demanded.
"Do are you're bid, boy," chimed another.
"How dare you talk to me in that manner—" Daemon hissed. One tried to grab him by the arm rather roughly, but the Prince yanked it away. "Don't touch me. Take me to my brother then. I demand an immediate audience with him."
One guard turned to their commander. "Captain," he said. They were itching for a fight. They wanted an excuse to exercise their brutality with no risk of reprisal. It was their mandate granted to them by Argilac himself.
"From the way I see it, Prince Daemon," the captain said, "you have two options: you can either come with us of your own volition… or you can come with us in chains, kicking and screaming the whole way. Which do you prefer?"
"Just take me to Argilac already!"
One by one, the fanatical guards surrounded Daemon and escorted him out of his chambers and down a flight of stairs leading into the castle's main courtyards of the lower bailey before crossing the serpentine steps through the middle bailey into the outer yard before arriving at the doors leading directly into the throne room.
The throne room changed drastically since his ancestors' time: where the vine motifs and candelabra once decorated the immense bronze columns with tall windows depicting stags were quickly replaced when Argilac ascended to monarchy; now, the entire hall was modified to mirror the ancient conquerors of House Targaryen during their reign. The vine motifs and candelabra were removed and replaced with large metallic black braziers constantly ablaze; the stained-glass window depicting the seven-pointed star of the Faith of the Seven was changed to a red stained-glass window. But the most prominent feature was behind the throne: hanging atop the walls were the skulls of Drogon the Winged Shadow and Viserion the Undead—who once fought his ancestors and threatened the realm 800 years ago. Although dragons have been declared legally extinct, the levels of destruction and raw power those majestic beasts displayed were forever recorded in the annals of history.
Daemon always felt intimidated whenever he set foot into the throne room, especially with those Targaryen dragon skulls staring down at him. But what disturbed him the most was the sight of the arrested parliament leaders tied up and bound before the foot of the throne itself, with King Argilac staring down at them.
Standing at a massive 6' 7¾" tall, Argilac was considered a giant—even by Baratheon standards. He had long black hair and bright blue eyes with heavy black body hair on his chest and a wild, thick, and fierce beard; broad-shouldered and muscled, Argilac was a powerful fighter—favoring his choice of weapon: wielding a giant spiked iron war hammer of such immense size even his younger brother could not lift it. With rough and hard hands, the King was so strong he could swing his war hammer one-handed or could crush a man's skull with the other. On his face, at age twenty-six, Argilac himself was already a fearless warrior like his ancestors, having fought on the field of battle alongside his father and grandfather. He had the scars to prove it. Being militaristically stern, Argilac had forgone dressing opulently as if to emphasize his royal status; instead, he wore his primarily slate grey and black draconic-looking heavy plate armor with only the great antlered helm placed at his feet… which made him look even more like a demon.
"Think very carefully about your decision, Argilac," Samson suggested.
Argilac rose from the throne, war hammer in hand. His elite troops and Kingsguard were with him, along with General Gerion and his Lannister guards. The sight of them was enough to unnerve anyone. "You will refer to me as 'Your Grace'. I am the King! My conscience is clear, old man. Do not question me again!" He turned to Gerion. "Bring the other traitors into the courtyard and execute them one-by-one via firing squad. Start with the Prime Minister, and if more resist, kill them all."
"At once, Your Grace," Gerion acknowledged.
"This is wrong!" Sharra protested.
"You can't do this!" shouted Samson.
*BAM!*
"Ngh!"
One of the King's elite guards went around Samson and bashed him behind his crippled knee, sending him to the ground in pain.
"Professor!" Sharra exclaimed.
King Argilac's face hardened. "Never tell me what I can and cannot do again. You do not make demands of Kings. Know your place," he warned.
The Lannister troops gathered around the Prime Minister along with most of the high-ranking parliamentary leaders, pushing and shoving them as they either loudly protested at their death sentence or desperately pleaded to Argilac for mercy. Daemon watched in horror as they were being sentenced to death before one of his brother's guards forcibly shoved him forward.
"Keep moving," they warned.
Daemon ignored their aggression. "You… you can't kill those people," he said.
PMs Blackwood, Greyjoy, and Grandison turned to look up at the Prince. Sharra and Samson noticed this too.
"Ah. So, you are their supposed savior. You had all sneaked around behind my back to conspire with the people to oust me from my rightful throne once more? Oh, how deeply you disappoint me," Argilac frowned. "Come closer, little brother."
Even though the two shared a mutual dislike for one another, Daemon felt duty-bound to obey… even though Argilac's sheer size and maliciousness frightened him since childhood. He felt a bead of sweat trickle down the side of his face, his legs stiffened and found it hard to move. Argilac towered over Daemon in sheer terms of height and mass; the elder Baratheon was 6' 7¾" whereas the younger stood at 5' 11"; Argilac was muscular, yet Daemon was slimmer. The mere sight of him made him briefly break eye contact before lifting one foot in front of the other.
"Come here!"
"Daemon…" Sharra noticed the fear.
"Your Grace— Argilac, please he's just a boy."
The King ignored his former advisors and history lecturer. Daemon again raised his left leg and moved forward. Horror coiled cold icy hands around his throat until he came within proximity of the King himself.
"Look at me," Argilac demanded.
He slowly raised his head to make eye contact.
"Well? Nothing to say?" asked Argilac.
"I… They… We did nothing wrong. We only followed parliamentary procedures in-in accordance with the Acts of Union," Daemon finally answered.
"Ah yes, the same old relic King Steffon himself decreed two centuries ago. Well, consider it un-decreed as of now. No need to follow the dreams of the dead. My word is law – not theirs. They're gone, sleeping soundly beneath the dirt, we're not."
"But their ideals, the embodiment of what our house represents—"
"How long do you intend on pursuing such foolish idealistic notions? You are no longer a child, and it's long past overdue that you stop acting like one!" Argilac's voice was low and deep. He gripped his war hammer in his right hand. "But perhaps the fault lies with our mother. Babying you the way she did. Never taught you how to be a proper man at all. Now, look at you: weak. Feeble. You sound just like a bloody woman."
"At least let them go! If you wish to take your anger and frustrations out on someone…"
"Oh, but I will. And you will see firsthand what the consequences of your actions truly look like up close." He turned to his henchmen. "You there. Restrain him."
"Wha—?" Before Daemon could press further, two heavy sets of enforcers wrapped his arms behind him in an armlock. The Prince struggled in their grip, straining and groaning as he struggled to break free. "Get your hands off me! Nggh!" he shouted.
"Let him go!" Sharra shouted.
"Get off him!" exclaimed PM Blackwood.
"Lord Grandison," Argilac said, "you and your colleagues have been accused of committing treason. Although foiled, by plotting a coup d'état in secrecy under the pretense of debating legislation you have jeopardized the security and continuing stability of the kingdom solely for political gain. Do you deny them?"
"I do deny it!" he spat. "All of us were called upon to convene a session of parliament, as your brother said, within the accordance of the Acts of Union! But every single time for the past four years, you stepped outside your role to block us at every turn."
"So, you admit you were conspiring against the crown?"
Lord Grandison, please no outbursts, Daemon beckoned.
"You lied to your men, threatened our way of life, took our wives and daughters like a common whore… The misgivings you alone have inflicted on the kingdom was more than enough for an emergency convening as per Article 12, Clause 6, Section 4A."
Shut up, my lord. Please, shut up…
"Silence, fool. You lordlings have always been a meddlesome thorn in my side. An obstacle on my path to glory," Argilac gripped his war hammer and raised it high in the air, causing the other captives to stir and squirm.
"Kill us if you wish, but understand, Argilac," the Lord of Grandview continued, "the world will hear of this. You kill us now, and you will single-handedly tear this country apart. We… are not yours to torment!"
"Everyone in this kingdom… is mine to torment as I please. I AM THE ONLY KING HERE!"
*BAM!*
With a single mighty swing, Argilac brought down his war hammer onto Lord Grandison's head, bashing him across the temple as everyone watches, horrified. After taking such a brutal blow to the head, a grievously injured Lord Grandison—a bloody mess; bleeding profusely from his dented head and left eye bulging out of its socket—looks at Daemon.
"Av… enge… us," he croaked.
*BAM!*
*BAM!*
*BAM!*
Argilac again violently swings his war hammer across Lord Grandison's face without hesitation, causing him to crash to the ground as the King continues savagely beating his head repeatedly, shattering his entire skull to pieces before reducing it into a bloody mush. As some screamed in terror and fright at the level of brutality, only Sharra, Samson, and Daemon were shocked into silence; they would only watch as Lord Grandison's graphic and mangled corpse lying in a large pool of bloody brain matter, bone, and an eyeball… with only a slight twitching from one of his hands. There was nothing recognizable left of him at all anymore.
"Oh, Gods… oh by the Gods, he-he just… he killed him. He just killed him," Lady Blackwood spoke horrified.
Argilac smirked at the sight. One more malcontent dealt with. Now there is only them, he redirected his attention towards Sharra. "Ah! Sharra Arryn, it's been over nine years since we last met." He made his way towards her.
No matter how much Sharra tried to move away, Argilac was already standing in front of her. Cupping her cheeks, he surveyed her.
No… Daemon's thoughts raced. "No… Get… get away from her," he uttered under his breath. No one could hear him. He unknowingly felt his hands clenching in a tight fist. "Leave… leave her alone…"
"Ahhh… I see the rumors about you do you no justice," Argilac continued. "Indeed. 'The Flower of the Vale.' The loveliest, most beautiful woman in the kingdom. So many men all over Westeros have vied for your attention, asked for your hand. A woman of your stature would make a fine consort, wouldn't you say, boys?"
His enforcers grinned wickedly. "Oh yes, Your Grace," one said.
"With a face, tits, and body like that… who wouldn't have carnal thoughts about her?" chuckled another one.
Sharra roughly shook her head out of his hand. Get away from me! Don't touch me! "You… You're a monster," she said with disgust.
"Now, that wasn't a pleasant thing to say to your King."
"No true King would have said or done the things you have."
"If any other woman—preferably a lowborn peasant—dared to say what you said to me, they would have been tortured or flayed for days on end." Frowning, he turned to his Kingsguard. "What you need is a lesson in… humility. I prefer my mistresses to be submissive. Quiet and obedient. Ser Darvin. Ser Jullen. Hit her."
"ARGILAC!" Samson shouted with pure disgust but could not move as the King's men pinned him down.
Sharra and Daemon's eyes widened; for the younger Baratheon, he knew what was bound to happen. He had seen and heard this many times whenever Argilac took a random woman into his chambers… he could still vaguely hear the screaming, the beatings, the crying… Argilac would bring another lord's wife or daughter and rape them, leaving them to crawl out of the King's bedchamber with cuts and bruises to be visible. Their dresses would be roughly torn, and tears flowed down their cheeks as they sobbed. No matter how hard he wanted to stop his brother, Daemon would always be held back by either Argilac's men or the Kingsguard. His body slowly shook and trembled.
No… Not again. Not her…
"Get away from me! Leave me alone!" he heard Sharra shout at the Kingsguard approaching before they seized her.
"Sharra! Get away from her, scoundrels!" they heard Samson yell out.
I will enjoy breaking you. "Leave her face," Argilac commanded. "I like her pretty." Resist if you must. That'll only satisfy me once you're in my bed begging.
*POW!*
Darvin slammed a fist into Sharra's belly, driving the air out of her. When she doubled over, Jullen grabbed her hair and drew his sword before laying the flat of the blade across her thighs, Sharra thought her legs might break from the force of the blow. She bit her lip, trying not to cry out from the pain. But as Darvin and Jullen kept hitting her, Sharra felt her resolve to start to waiver. Tears welled in her eyes. She soon lost count of the blows.
*POW!*
"Stop it… stop it," Daemon utters quietly once more. The sound of Sharra's shouts, the sight of her face wincing in pain from the beatings… He felt something brewing inside the pit of his gut beginning to grow.
*POW!*
"Aw, look at that, Tim! Someone's getting upset," the guard holding the Prince mocked with laughter. The other guards soon joined in laughing, taking delight at belittling Daemon who by now had his face blankly staring at the floor unresponsive, his eyes glued to the guardsmen physically abusing Sharra.
"Boys," the King continued, "make her naked."
"NO!" Sharra screamed.
*RIIIP!*
Daemon shot his head up as he saw Darvin and Jullen shove their meaty hands down the front of Sharra's bodice and each gave a respective hard yank. The white and blue silk dress came tearing away to the waist, exposing her breasts. Sharra did not remember falling to her knees, yet the next she knew she crossed her arms over her chest, breathing raggedly while she curled into a fetal position. She could hear sniggers, far off and cruel.
"Daamn! Did you see that?" asked one guardsman.
"I sure did! Her tits are huge!" replied another lecherously.
"*sniffle!*"
It was at that moment that Sharra's resolve broke. Her lip trembled as she sobbed quietly; the embarrassment, the public humiliation… her tormentors looking at her, laughing at her… It was too much. And there was Argilac, licking his lips with lust and desire. This was the result he wanted. Sharra didn't look at any of them, but she could see Daemon looking mortified. Her throat was hoarse but moved her lips to get a voice out.
"Help… help me, Daemon. Please… Daemon, help me…" she pleaded through choked sobs.
The sound of his childhood friend's desperate cries for help caused something inside him to snap. Daemon could feel his fists tightening tighter until his knuckles turned white; the Prince began hyperventilating before clenching his teeth into an angry growl. He flexed his arms, catching the attention of the guardsmen holding him. When they tried to restrain him, they were quickly taken aback with the sudden burst of strength as Daemon finally broke free.
"I. Said. ENOOOUUUUUUGHHHH!" he roared.
*BAM!*
Daemon quickly elbowed the guard to his right, and suddenly he was free.
"Gagh! He broke my fucking nose!" exclaimed a guard as he darted back, holding his bleeding face.
*BAM!*
Swiftly turning, Daemon decked another in the face and sprinted towards Ser Darvin and Ser Jullen, punching the two Kingsguard knights off of Sharra – prompting the other Kingsguard to draw their swords and Argilac's guards pointing their flintlock muskets and rifles at him. Even Argilac himself was surprised by his younger brother's emotional outburst. Daemon knelt to comfort Sharra, unfastening his leather jacket, and wrapped it around to cover her. Sharra sniffled again before clutching it around her chest, fists bunched hard as Daemon fastened the first few buckles. The leather interior was cold against her skin, but Sharra felt safe with him at her side.
"Daemon…" she choked.
"Are you okay?" he asked concerned.
Sharra did not answer.
"Argilac, you son of a bitch! Leave her alone!" Daemon spat venomously. I'll never forget what you did. I'll never forgive you for this!
"Well, well," Argilac clapped his hands mockingly. "Seems you do have a bit of a backbone after all. Quite a remarkable display of courage there." His mocking grin turned into a deep frown. "But you still have a hard time remembering your place."
Within seconds, Argilac seized Daemon by the throat and lifted him off the ground with his other hand. As the Prince gagged and struggled in his older brother's grip, the tyrant King glared at him as he tightened his hold.
"Still defiant, are you?"
"I… will… never forgive you for this! NEVER! Do you hear me? You impudent fuck?"
"That does it," the King snarled.
Argilac slammed Daemon onto the cold hard ground before snapping his fingers, signaling his guards to rush over—kicking and pounding on Daemon brutally.
"I've changed my mind. Guards, take my brother to the black cells. I'll deal with him and the rest of the traitors first thing in the morning."
Chapter End
Author's Note: So now we have a firsthand glimpse at the interaction between Daemon and his older brother King Argilac IV. For all his childhood, Daemon was terrorized and abused by Argilac… but it wasn't until the sight of his men abusing Sharra Arryn that finally pushed him over the edge and drove him to do what he did. The Baratheon brothers are set to be at war with each other. Stay tuned for more updates.
C.E.W: So Daemon finally lost ha? Argilac must've really pissed him off this time, and seeing all of his vile acts, it wouldn't surprise me if he had poisoned their mother, the late Queen.
Daemon being escorted to the Black Cells under normal circumstances would be bad. However, given that the cells are close to the secret entrances, it will be much easier for him to escape. Sharra Arryn and the other nobles if they are kept in the cells as well.
Quillis: Argilac is reminding me so much of Joffrey