Grand Maester Pycelle.

For neigh on twenty five years he had served as Grand Maester, serving during the later troubles that followed that bright young man's death, till now the reign of the true king Aemon. Aerys Targaryen had very little support, even before he had become mad following Duskendale, the lords of the Seven Kingdoms had despised him, for the man was a cruel and sadistic person who revelled in torture and other unspeakable things. That he had usurped the crown had come as no surprise to Pycelle, he had seen the hunger and the desire for what being king meant, in Aerys Targaryen's eyes over the years, that his mother was a Blackfyre and his father Prince Jaehaerys only strengthened the desire.

Pycelle had tried to warn King Aegyl, and though the king had taken him seriously and had done things to ensure Aerys power was limited, that he had not left a will nor done more to ensure the safety of his wife and children, had allowed Aerys to assume power through the struggles and through having that damnable eunuch on his side. Pycelle did not trust Varys, had not trusted him since the moment he had walked into the small council chamber to present himself before the regent and the hand. There was something off about him, and it was not just the fact that he had no balls, he simpered and then he would growl, but where was his bark and where was his bite, Pycelle often wondered.

The war of the dragons had many contributing factors, not least of all Aerys having most of King Aemon's men butchered before the king had even been able to process all that was happening. There was Prince Rhaegar's abduction of Lady Lyanna Stark, Robert Baratheon calling his banners and not declaring which side he was fighting for and then of course there was the brutal murder of Prince Viserys, the king's own brother and the capturing of Dragonstone and the holding of Queen Dowager Alyssa and Prince Lucerys. Pycelle knew that the king was not like to forgive the men responsible for inflicting such tragedies on his family, the King had always been a carefree child but as he had grown older and wiser and the full weight of what was expected of him became more evident, he grew serious and stubborn and proud. Pycelle pitied those who would continue to stand in his path.

The war had gone from bad to worse for the usurper, Aerys' son continued to remain in hiding whilst the fighting raged on around them. The Stormlands saw the most action, Robert Baratheon son of the usurper's cousin Steffon Baratheon fought in three battles winning two of them and losing the one battle in which Prince Rhaegar returned for. The battle of the Blueburn was by all accounts bloody and violent and when Stag and dragon met in the river, the dragon triumphed and Robert Baratheon's blood ran red. Aerys when he had heard had sat silently for a moment and then said. "I will write the words to Steffon. He should hear it from me." Through the haze of his madness the king was still the same child who had grown up with his cousins, and loved them though his madness often prevented him from seeing that.

More news came through from the field, High Heart, Rushing Falls, the Mander all of it spelling the end of Aerys time on the throne. The usurper grew more and more paranoid, not allowing any blades in his presence apart from those of his Kingsguard. The seven he had chosen for his Kingsguard, Ser Preston Greenfield, Ser Donnet Rykker, Ser Meryn Trant, Ser Boros Blount, Ser Doltos Velaryon, and Ser Dontos Merribald and by force Prince Lewyn Martell. Prince Lewyn was not aware of his forced appointment to the usurper's Kingsguard, for he remained in comfortable captivity in Summerhall, where the usurper's grandchildren continued to live and thrive. The knights who attended the king were no true knights, knaves and cravens and bullies the lot of them. Greenfield, Trant and Blount had died at Rushing Falls and the Trident. Rykker dying at High Heart, the battle that saw the exile of the rest of the Merryweather family.

The trident, news from that deciding battle had arrived some three weeks ago, and since then the usurper had grown more and more fearful. Rhaegar was dead slain by King Aemon, and the smallfolk and nobles alike whispered that it was a sign from the gods that the true king was returning to exact a bloody vengeance on those who had betrayed him. Those nobles who had come to court when Aerys had had himself crowned, had come for Rhaegar not for Aerys, and for power, now that was out of their grasp and they had fled back to their hovels for fear of what the true king would do to them once he came back and reclaimed the city.

Aerys himself had decided to take his frustration and fear out by burning those nobles who displeased him, after High Heart the new lord Merryweather had been burnt alive for the failures of his father, the boy lord was sent across the narrow sea with his family, Lord Chelstead the next hand was burnt alive after the failure of the Trident, and Ser Damascus Dayne of High Hermitage was burnt alive when news of the Dornish joining King Aemon reached their ears. The usurper was a king without a hand, though that pyromancers Rossart continued to whisper in his ear about wildfire and other dangerous things. Pycelle knew from looking over the accounts with Ser Myles Rosby that the usurper had paid vast sums of money for wildfire to be installed around the city. Pycelle had acted as quickly as he could and most of the jars had not been installed as those tasked with their installation were slain or bribed out of the city. Aerys might think he controlled the city watch, but there were those who still knew what honour and loyalty was.

Still this latest summons to court had him worried, he knew not what Aerys wanted nor whether he would be the one to burn next, and just in case the man went through with burning the city he knew that he had his poisons and potions up his sleeves ready for whatever scenario might be thrown toward him. Though he prayed to the seven that no such thing arose for he despised those cravens who used a woman's work, if need be the gold cloaks would turn on Aerys, but how quickly they would was another matter. He entered the throne room and found it largely deserted apart from Velaryon and Merribald present standing in front of the throne where the usurper was slumped. Varys stood in the shadows waiting and watching. Pycelle bowed and said. "You asked and I have come Your Grace."

Pycelle sees Aerys sit up then, cutting himself on the throne as he does so. His voice is weedy when he speaks. "Ah Pycelle, Grand Maester and sworn to obey whoever sits the throne. Tell me Pycelle, how loyal have you been to my family?"

Pycelle swallows and then says. "Very loyal Your Grace. I have done all in my power to give good counsel and see to it that the royal family has been treated to the best care possible."

Aerys eyes seem to bulge out his sockets they are so big. "Ah you see Varys, he says royal family. But I asked about my family Pycelle not that brat Aemon's. Have you done all in your power to ensure the continuation of my line? The rightful line."

You will never be the rightful king, nor shall your grandson. Usurpers the lot of you. Pycelle thinks. Aloud he merely asks. "I do not understand Your Grace."

This causes Aerys to laugh and Varys to titter. "Oh now he does not understand. I asked if you had been trying to make sure if my wife could conceive no other children in the times she was here. Before the war she came here four times, each time we coupled and no children resulted from it. I know she saw you for advice, and I know you prescribed her moon tea on two occasions. So tell me Pycelle how well have you served my family?"

Pycelle swallowed how Aerys had found out about that, the Princess had told no one else about the moon tea, and the he looked at Varys and saw the eunuch hiding a sly smile. One day I shall get you back for this you bastard. "Your Grace is mistaken. I did not force anything on to Princess Rhaella; she merely asked for some moon tea for her friends, I did not give her anything to remove the potential heir from her body."

Aerys snorts this time. "Oh come now Pycelle you are going to have to do better than that. Why I have not fed the dragon yet, and the dragon is always hungry. Perhaps the flames will do for you."

Before Pycelle can beg for a reprieve, Manly Stokeworth the commander of the city watch stumbles, in his armour covered in blood and dirt and mud. "Your Grace..." he pants. "Army at the gates... King Aemon." Stokeworth keels over and dies there and then.

Aerys eyes widen further than even Pycelle thought possible. "At the gates? Who is at the gates. Ser Dontos go and find out, and if one of those cravens tries to open the gates kill them." The white knight nods and leaves the throne room, walking past the body of Manly Stokeworth without a second thought.

They wait in silence for a long moment before the white knight enters the throne room covered in dirt and blood. "They have climbed the walls Your Grace. Lannister, Stark, Tully and Arryn banners Your Grace. The men are climbing and the city watch are losing heart."

"And the boy?" the usurper yelled. "Where is the boy?"

Velaryon shook slightly then. "The boy is not there, I know not where he is."

Silence and then "Well go and find him and stop jabbering on like the mindless craven your father was!" Aerys shouts. Velaryon bows and then hurries to leave.

"So the boy has finally come. Very well. Merribald go and find Rossart and bring him here. Pycelle bring me a drink." Aerys says his voice beginning to waver.

Pycelle nods and scurries out of the throne room to his own chambers, picks up a glass and pours some wine into it, and then slips a few drops of the strangler into the drink, swirling the drink around a bit to hide the colour of the poison he smells it briefly. Only wine can be smelt, that is good, he scurries back into the throne room. Merribald has not returned, but Varys and the king are conversing about something serious. "Your drink Your Grace." Pycelle says, bowing before the steps, Aerys nods to Varys who scurries down the steps and hands the usurper the drink.

Aerys takes a deep swig of the wine, smacks his lips and then says. "Ah is this Dornish? Such good wine, from such a barbarous and traitorous people. Such a sha..." he trials off and the cup soon drops from his hand cluttering down to the ground. The usurper puts his hands to his throat, and makes a gagging sound, both Pycelle and Varys look at each other, Aerys continues making choking noises for about two minutes and then he slumps forward and falls of the throne.

"Very nicely done Maester Pycelle. I could not have done it better myself. And now our king will not have to worry about being accused of being a twice accursed kinslayer." Varys purrs.

Pycelle is silent for a moment and prays to gods he has not thought of in sometime. Aerys Targaryen died on the fifth day of the third month of the 282nd year after Aegon's Landing, he was forty years old. The war of the dragons was at an end. For when Aemon Targaryen and his men entered the throne room they found Aerys body at the foot of the steps and Pycelle and Varys speaking in hushed tones.