Calla
"Uncle! This can't be true!" Aelor son of Rhaegel shouted. "We're true Targaryens!"
Calla did not interrupt. She preferred to let the "Targaryens" sort through it themselves. If Aerys could calm his nephew, that was. The pretender King struggled to look at his kin with straight eyes, his lips shivering.
"We lost the war. This is the price we have to pay." Aerys spoke at last, sounding more painful than he had any right to be. He could keep his head, Calla thought, though my father and brothers lost theirs. The terms were fairer than what the Falseborn's kin deserved, all for the sake of ending the war swiftly.
Aelor stood up, his fists clenched. "I'd rather die than lose my name!"
"Aelor, sit down!" His mother ordered. Alys Arryn's face was pale white. Aelor's twin Aelora also begged Aelor to stop, afraid that his words would lead to his death.
Girls always had more sense than boys, Calla thought. Unless the girl in question was Daena Blackfyre. "Save your breath, Aelor Waters." Calla's voice was cold. "Dying or not, your name cannot be changed. All descendants of Daeron Falseborn shall be known as Waters. Or do you deny that he is your grandfather?"
Calla glanced around the room. Not far from Aelor, his cousin Aegon's hatred-filled eyes locked on Calla's face. But he did not say anything. Since the boy's capture at Whitewalls, he had witnessed what Calla did. And he knew what Calla could, but did not do.
Calla expected nothing less from him. She had killed his father, using Aegon as a trap to lure Maekar into his death. That was the blood she had shedded. But Calla did not kill children unless it was absolutely necessary.
She was not a butcher.
Aelor sat down, glaring at Calla with no less hatred than his cousin. "My grandfather wasn't a bastard," he finally spat.
"So you say, but it doesn't matter. All that matters," Calla turned towards Aerys, "Is what the head of your house says."
"I recognised my father's line as illegitimate and all our claims on the Iron Throne as false, so that our lives would be spared." The dethroned King's voice was tortured, his face full of guilt. According to Aegor, Aerys surrendered as soon as he started to threaten to put the young Baratheon heir to the sword. Aerys must have known that he had no chance of escaping, and wasting more lives would be senseless.
"Yes. And according to the peace treaty you signed, all of the males in your line shall be sent to the Wall, and the women shall be sent to a Sept. For those who married into their line," Calla was looking at Alys now. "You're free to go home, or follow your children if you wish."
"I'll go wherever my girls go," Alys immediately replied. "But Rhaegel—"
"My father can't go to the Wall!" Aelor screamed. "He won't know how to… he cannot survive there!"
Calla looked at Rhaegel. The lackwit was glancing towards his wife and children. He seemed confused and somewhat afraid, not understanding why they were so distressed.
"The Night's Watch has a long history, with all kinds of men joining them over the centuries. I'm sure they will have some way to sort him out," she said dismissively. "Perhaps the cold northern air would do him some good and clear the fog off his mind. Or would you prefer I end his suffering right now? That can be arranged too."
Aelor shook with anger, but he did not say anything. Rhaegel pulled his son into an embrace, comforting his son despite understanding little of what's happening at all.
Then Aelor started to cry.
Aelora and Alys were next, then the young Daenora, then Aerys and Maekar's children. Calla stood among them, her eyes dry. Any tears she once had dried from her eyes long ago. "I'll leave you to say your goodbyes," she announced. "Those who wish to join the Watch will leave on the first ship heading north tomorrow." The alternative was left unsaid.
"What of Ser Duncan?" In hindsight, Calla was surprised that she didn't hear that question before. Aegon had been separated from his knight ever since Calla defeated him at Whitewalls.
"Your knight has agreed to work for us." It took some persuading of course. The gold helped too. Calla knew how useful Ser Duncan the Tall could be if they could gain his loyalty, and it would certainly be wasteful to kill him or send him away. "He has been assigned to be a part of your escort north. You will have many opportunities to talk to him during your long journey."
Calla left the room before Aegon could ask more questions. She let out a sigh. At least none of them had asked about the missing Aerion.
As much as Calla wished to run Crystal through the man who seduced her sister, she could not do that when Daena was dead set on marrying him— and was carrying his child. Nor could they send him to the Watch.
It was a mess. In the end, all they could do was to send back a letter asking her to only come to Westeros after her child is born— and that she would need to keep Aerion in chains.
Not for the first time, Calla wondered whether she should have warned Daena about Aerion and his madness. But how could Calla have known that he would join the Golden Company?
Was it because she had made the suggestion to found the Golden Company to Aegor earlier? Or was it something else? They would have to deal with the consequences all the same.
On the bright side, resistance to Blackfyre rule crumbled with Aerys' surrender. The Eyrie had surrendered, on the condition that their heir would be allowed to remain at their seat after Lord Arryn took the Black.
Of the remaining great houses, the Baratheons had surrendered. The Tyrells bent the knee as soon as they heard of what happened at the Second Battle of Redgrass Field, fearing the loss of their overlordship of the Reach if they did not do so. Tully, Lannister, and Martell were being destroyed by their own bannermen. Stark never joined the fight and was content to swear their allegiance to House Blackfyre now that the dust had settled. That only left the Greyjoys, who, according to all accounts, were happily raiding the west coast of Westeros thinking nobody could stop them.
"Well, the Ironborn was always troubling," Calla told herself. They would be dealt with later, after the matters at hand were sorted.
—
"Your Grace." Calla's legitimate aunt knelt in front of the Iron Throne with tears in her eyes. In Daenerys' hands was a crown Calla had only read about in the records of old. "I represent my husband's house to negotiate our surrender, and this is our gift."
Calla held back a gasp. "Is that…"
"Aegon the Conqueror's crown, yes," Aegor answered. He had received Daenerys previously, and arranged for her to meet Aenys upon her arrival in King's Landing. Now they knew why.
Aenys walked down the throne and received the crown from Daenerys' hands. "Please stand up, Aunt. You don't have to kneel in front of me. We're all family here." He replaced his own newly forged crown with the ring of Valyrian steel. Calla thought it fitted perfectly on his head. "It would have been even better had you brought this to me before my coronation, but I shall accept it all the same. Had the Dornish hid it among themselves after the death of the Young Dragon?"
"Yes, the Martells had kept it protected in their own vault for decades. I only knew about it some months ago, when my lord husband agreed to surrender. He bid me take it to you, for you're the rightful heir of this crown." Daenerys Targaryen rose again, her back straight, her expression stern despite the sorrow in her eyes. She was the woman Calla and Aenys' father had once loved.
Clearly, she meant to use that fact and the crown to bargain for better terms for her husband and children. But Aenys would not be affected, Calla knew. He was better than this.
"I shall offer you the terms I gave the other lords who surrendered. Your husband will take the black. Your firstborn will rule Sunspear. However the overlordship of Dorne had already been promised to House Yronwood. I'm sure you understand that we cannot go back on our words, or we will have another Dornish rebellion on our hands." Aenys delivered the terms in a flat voice. Calla was proud of him. He had come far from the boy who had trouble learning his letters.
Daenerys frowned. "Dorne will not follow a Prince or Princess not of Nymeria's blood." She did not know how the Yronwoods would not be Prince or Princess. Dorne had lost that special privilege she once unfairly held. But it was pointless to correct her.
"Some won't," Aenys agreed. "Why don't we have one of your daughters wed Lord Yronwood's heir? I won't force this on you, but you would be wise to consider that once you return to Dorne. It will only benefit Sunspear to improve your relationship with your new liege, and one day your descendants will rule Dorne again."
"And what of my husband? What crimes did he commit, except for supporting his sister's children?" Daenerys was seething now, her quiet voice laced with anger.
"He twice supported usurpers against his rightful kings. And now you freely admit he hid the Conqueror's crown from its rightful heirs." Aenys tapped the crown he just put on. "It's only for the love my father once held for you, that I offer terms as generous as this."
Calla winced. Aegor shot her a warning glance before she could say anything. He was right, of course. It would look bad for her to challenge her King publicly.
Daenerys lowered her head, her voice almost a whisper. "Daemon wouldn't want to break up my family." She turned towards Aegor with an accusatory glare. "You know I'm right, Aegor."
Aegor shook his head. "Daemon would have ordered the same. He had already decided on these terms even before he raised his banners."
"You tricked him. You misled him to ruin. We should never have trusted you, or accepted you into our fold. You're just as responsible for his death as—"
"Enough!" Aenys shouted. "Aunt or not, you don't get to accuse my Hand of my father's death. Bloodraven murdered him in cold blood, and Calla avenged him. I am offering mercy for your House. Reject it at your peril."
The firm, unyielding figure of Daenerys Targaryen withered like fallen leaves as Aenys spoke. For a moment she looked far older than she should. "My apologies, Your Grace. I misspoke. House Martell shall accept all your terms with gratitude."
"Good." Aenys waved his hand to dismiss her, but Daenerys did not move.
"Also, I… now that I'm here, I want to visit Redgrass Field." She sounded so weak now. "I never got a chance to grieve for my… my brother. Your Grace." Did she want sympathy, or was it of genuine affection for Calla's father? But it did not matter. The blood of the King Who Bore the Sword had long since dried from Redgrass Field. All that left… was the blood of Calla's brothers and her enemies.
Aenys apparently thought the same. "You're free to go anywhere you want, but there'll be no trace of my father there. Uncle Aegor, could you please…?"
"Of course, Your Grace, I'll arrange it. Princess Daenerys, please come with me." Aegor nodded firmly and led Daenerys out. Her sorrowful, grudge-filled gaze swept over everyone in the Throne room… before settling on Calla.
"They said you... avenged Daemon," Daenerys accused. "and cut Brynden down into finely minced meat."
"That I did," Calla replied. Calm down, she told herself. Daenerys was harmless. Taking Crystal out would just be an unnecessary threat.
"You killed Daemon's killer. But did you kill the one who pushed him to death? Until you do so, Daemon would never be avenged."
She's provoking you, Calla's brain screamed, but her fists flew first. Daenerys fell onto the ground. "Enough, Calla, enough! We can't hurt her!" Aegor screamed into Calla's ears. Her wrists stung from his grip "You should know that well!"
It was just the same as Redgrass Field, Calla recalled. He had held her back, his hands slipping against the blood and meat and guts smattered all over her clothes, when she could not stop herself from using Crystal, though the man she wanted to kill was already dead.
"I… I know. I'm sorry. She said… you…" Calla hated how weak she sounded, how she still felt like a child in his arms no matter how much time had passed.
But Aegor did not care. "I know. Yet Daenerys is merely misinformed. There's no need to attack her." He loosened his grip when she relaxed.
Calla looked back at Daenerys. She had stood back up, a bruise forming on her cheeks. "You're Daemon's daughter alright," the older woman bitterly laughed., "Daemon was also quick to defend those whom he considered friends. If only you would open your eyes."
"You—" Calla's temper rose again.
"Get out! I would apologise on behalf of Calla, but it's clear that you don't care for it. Go mourn at Redgrass Field or return to your Dornish desert. I care not, as long as you get out of my court," Aenys howled, his face red with anger.
"As you command, your grace." Daenerys' bow was stiff. Then Aegor sent her out. From his frown Calla would say he didn't have much patience left either. Daenerys was insufferable.
"How dare that woman insult my Hand repeatedly in front of my face," Aenys muttered as soon as Aegor and Daenerys were out of earshot. "I thought of stripping Sunspear from them too."
"Don't," Calla quickly replied, "You already made a promise. A King should always keep his word."
"Yes, you're right," Aenys sighed. "I'm just complaining. I can't believe Father ever loved her."
"...Love is blind, they said." And cruel too. Aegor may never love her back, but she still loved him all the same.
"In this case, it's more like love is deaf. She may be good-looking, but I can't imagine anyone who would tolerate her yapping. Though…" Aenys tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Uncle Aegor was incredibly calm when he faced her baseless accusations."
"He's admirable like that." Meanwhile, Calla needed to learn how to restrain herself. She could not let her temper ruin Aenys' rule.
"Indeed he is." Aenys eyed Calla carefully. "I think this is enough for today, for we are both tired. We shall discuss what to do with the Ironborn later."
"Rest well, Aenys… Your Grace." He's a king now, Calla reminded herself. The heir of Conqueror, with Aegon's crown on his head, Aegon's sword on his lap.
A true king.
Yet she did not see the darkness that now crept over Aenys' face.
