Gaemon IV
The wait was the hardest part. When word had come that the Queen required their presence, Gaemon had been all too eager to oblige. He had arrived early, having practically flung himself out of his bed and into a suitable doublet (black, with red highlights of course). Eating quickly, he had made his way with Maegor and Nettles to the Storm Drum, waiting expectantly at the entrance. Given how quiet the weeks since the carnage at the Gullet had been, he had often found himself wondering what the Queen's next move might be. There had been whispers of surrender amongst some of the guards, but he suspected that was untrue. There would have been no need for lengthy deliberation if Prince Jacaerys' death had broken the Queen's will to fight. No, Queen Rhaenyra bides her time, and we stand at the ready to bring Fire and Blood to her enemies if they stir, he thought with pride.
While he had been waiting, Gaemon had decided to check on the Cannibal. Given its temperament, the dragon had been allocated a space in the main courtyard, close to where they had originally landed weeks before. With a name like his, it's a wonder they don't wish to keep him with the other dragons, he thought with a smirk. As he had approached, the dragon partially uncoiled, its scales rasping and gliding across the stone of the courtyard. A green eye regarded him from over a folded wing. As he approached, the heat emanating from the creature became hotter, and he took a moment to enjoy the barely contained conflagration that was his dragon. Reaching its side, he turned his back to the beast before leaning against it. It'd have never let me do this weeks ago, he thought to himself. With time, the two had grown more comfortable around one another, testing the limits of their relationship and learning what was, and wasn't, acceptable. The Cannibal had proven remarkably welcoming, as the amount of outright hateful stares it seemed to give had dropped precipitously. Honestly, I think it just likes to be dramatic. This bond is new for it too, and such things take time to become strong.
Ulf and Hugh were taking plenty of time to appear. It appears the sot and the oaf must needs be woken from their stupor. True to form, they appeared a few moments later, trudging through the mud of the outer yard, having presumably been summoned from the tavern in the village below. Both Hugh and Ulf looked to be in terrible shape, no doubt due to their prodigious consumption of wine the evening before. As they entered, a low hiss emanated from the Cannibal. It seems I'm not the only one who could've done without their presence. Gaemon smirked when he was able to start making out the fading bruises that Ulf wore across his face. Maegor definitely showed us all a bit of his namesake during that match. Gaemon had been ready to intervene the moment Hugh had, but luckily Ser Marbrand had done so first. Blood would have been surely spilled, and men killed, if that had continued, he thought grimly. I would gladly kill for Maegor, but even I am not such a fool as to like my odds against 'the Hammer'. Hugh might have taken a fittingly unimaginative moniker for himself, but it does sum up his most intimidating attributes quite nicely.
Maegor himself regarded them coolly, but he clearly kept his emotions guarded. He had been less morose since they had laid his family to rest, a welcome change in Gaemon's eyes. He had begun to worry dearly about his friend, but it appeared that the final visit to his home had provided some much needed closure. Gaemon had been glad Maegor had asked him along, and he himself had been relieved to be able to say goodbye to his extended family. They probably had no idea I was alive until that day, he thought as shame welled within him. Their pride and relief at his arrival had been obvious, and despite never having known his mother, he had found himself wishing she had been there to see it too.
Giving his dragon a pat on its scaled flank, Gaemon rose and returned to the assembled group of seeds. The five of them stood quietly, and Ulf's eyes dripped a barely concealed malice. The silence is deafening, he thought to himself. Even Nettles seemed uncharacteristically unwilling to break the silence. Luckily, that task was accomplished by a household knight who appeared at the top of the stairs, as he opened the great doors of the Stone Drum.
"Noble Sers, I have come to guide you to where you will attend the Queen. Please follow me." Turning with a flourish of his cloak, which revealed a Velaryon color scheme, he beckoned them to follow.
As they were being guided through the Stone Drum itself, Gaemon had relished the opportunity to subtly observe the quarters where his family actually lived. The place was grim, to be sure, and certainly had an overabundance of draconic art. But the halls and stones themselves had an undeniable power; it practically radiated off of them. Despite the earlier feast they had attended, he still hadn't had much of an opportunity to actually walk the halls of the Stone Drum, basking in the presence of his ancestors' home and energy. Needless to say he was extremely excited, and further elated when he realised that the audience was not to be held in the throne room, but instead in the Chamber of the Painted Table. Constructed on the orders of the Conqueror himself, the very sight of it had sent shivers down his spine.
The smell of the sea filled the uppermost room of the Stone Drum. Gaemon focused on keeping himself still, his eyes focused on the massive carved table that depicted the entirety of Westeros sprawled out before him. Rivers, mountains, fields, and castles sprung up across its entirety, and he could almost imagine that he sat atop the Cannibal, miles in the air, surveying an entire continent beneath him. He was so engrossed in the thought he had to repress the urge to jump as a guardsmen struck the stone floor with his spear to announce the arrival of the Queen.
"All kneel, for you stand in the presence of Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, and Lady of the Seven Kingdoms." Gaemon knelt, and saw the others do so out of the corners of his eyes. Keeping his eyes downcast, he heard the Queen's footfalls as she approached, but was surprised that the whisper of a dress dragging alongside them was not present.
"Rise, my dragonriders. I have summoned you to attend me for it will prove most auspicious in the future histories. I intend for my reign to begin in earnest on this day."
Standing, Gaemon found himself facing his Queen transformed. Gone were the courtly dresses, the cheeks puffy from tears, the tangled hair of a woman plagued with little sleep. Instead, he faced a Valyrian warrior-woman of old. Clad in gleaming black scale armor, wearing her father's crown, and her silver hair braided, the Queen regarded each of them, holding their gaze with purple eyes that burned with an unexpected flame. She then turned, and taking Lord Corlys Velaryon's hand, ascended the steps to sit upon the raised chair above the Painted Table. Others quickly entered the room. The Princes Aegon and Viserys entered, along with Lady Baela. Viserys' hatchling was curled about his shoulders, and he smiled shyly at Gaemon and Maegor as he followed his brother into the room. Baela made eye contact with Gaemon, giving him a quick nod, before joining her half brothers to the right of where the Queen sat, elevated. Next came Addam and Alyn Velaryon, who joined their grandfather to the left of the Queen. Lastly came Lords Bonnifer Bar Emmon and Bartimos Celtigar, along with Maester Gerardys and Ser Lorent Marbrand.
Once everyone had been assembled, they waited, their eyes on the Queen. Surveying the room, she began to speak:
"My noble Lords and Sers, it was the intention of the Prince of Dragonstone before his death that we put our preponderance of dragonriders to good use. Before my beloved Jace was taken from me, he planned in this very room to take King's Landing from the Usurper. The Essosi dogs may have cut his life short, but his sacrifice will not be in vain. Today I aim to have vengeance for both of my sons, and Princess Rhaenys." Gaemon observed Lord Velaryon nodding grimly in response.
Rhaenyra began to speak again: "Much and more has happened since my dragonriders brought Fire and Blood to the fleet of the Three Daughters. We have received ravens from throughout the realm, some bearing good tidings, others ill. In the Reach, those loyal to my cause have been scattered after the Usurper's youngest brother arrived atop Tessarion. From what little information has arrived, it appears Lord Rowan has been put to flight, and there is no word of Lords Costayne, Beesbury, Tarly, or the Bastard of Bitterbridge. We can no longer count on any significant support from the Reach. In the Stormlands, Lord Baratheon has declared for the Usurper by allowing the murder of my precious Luke, but has not stirred since. Perhaps he regrets his decision. In the Westerlands, Lord Jason Lannister, yet another traitor, has summoned his levies and invaded the Riverlands to bring flame and sword to my leal lords." Rhaenyra smiled grimly. "Instead, he marched to his own doom. I have received word from Lord Piper that although Lord Lannister forced his way across the Red Fork, he took a mortal wound in doing so. His losses in manpower were also grievous. Better yet, the Red Kraken has finally stirred. Word has arrived from Lannisport, sealed with a Kraken. The Westerlands burn for their treachery."
Those assembled in the room had grown still, but the atmosphere was one of resolve, not hopelessness. The Queen continued.
"In light of the scale of the victory achieved over the Three Daughters, and the Red Kraken's declaration of support, I feel that my presence on Dragonstone is no longer warranted. Lord Corlys has informed me that he will now be quite capable of maintaining his blockade without any need for support. It is time we took King's Landing. Word has come from Harrenhal. The Kinslayer and the Kingmaker have departed King's Landing with four thousand swords, intent in bringing my Lord Husband and the Riverlords to battle. Instead, they will find naught but an abandoned ruin. Prince Daemon has begun his flight to King's Landing as we speak. We must needs join him. The Kinslayer has deprived the city of Vhagar, and the Usurper's Sunfyre is missing. From what I have been told, Helaena is in no state to ride Dreamfyre. The city might as well be dragon-less."
With those words, Gaemon could feel the anticipation growing in the room. His own excitement was palpable. Prince Daemon flies to the capital, and I will soon be on my way to join him! He had imagined meeting his father countless times, but never in his wildest dreams as an accomplished dragonrider and trusted knight to a Queen. He forced himself to contain his emotions, as he saw the Queen opening her mouth to speak once more.
"My orders are as follows: Lord Corlys, send word for your fleet to prepare for immediate departure. I want your strongest ship to be prepared to carry Lords Celtigar and Bar Emmon, along with Maester Gerardys and Ser Lorent. Have your men, along with those of Lords Celtigar and Bar Emmon assemble and prepare for departure. Dragonriders, I want you ready to fly within the hour. Time is of the essence." Standing, the Queen was helped down from the chair by Ser Marbrand. As she turned to leave the chamber, Lady Baela's voice rang out.
"My Queen, allow me the honor to fly with you! I will never forgive myself for being unable to accompany Jace. But my Moondancer has grown since then. She is nearly ready to be ridden. Let me escort you to King's Landing as a true Targaryen!"
The Queen turned to face her cousin, and her hardened expression let up for a brief moment.
"Baela, I need you here. Moondancer grows larger each day, and we mustn't leave Dragonstone completely undefended. Besides, I will not make the mistake of sending young dragons into danger again." Rhaenyra approached Baela, whose face betrayed her emotional turmoil within. Placing a hand on her cheek, she smiled wanly. "I know what I ask of you may seem unfair, but it is for your own safety. Your father, my Lord Husband, would never forgive me if I caused you harm." Her face hardening, Rhaenyra's smile faded. "Besides, I have shed enough of my family's blood for my cause. From now on, only the Usurper will be made to pay such a price for his ill-gotten crown."
The Queen turned and left the chamber after those words, followed by her attendants. Viserys and Aegon each embraced Lady Baela, before being escorted back to their chambers. The dragonriders filed out last, as Gaemon hesitated. Baela dragged a clenched fist across her face, blinking back tears. "How am I to protect anything here? I've already lost my betrothed. The time will come when the Queen sends for my brothers; with their departure I will have nothing here to defend. Keeping me here does nothing but waste my dragon. I want to fight."
Gaemon shifted his feet. Even after he had spoken with Baela on a few occasions, he always found their conversations awkward. He never knew exactly what it was his place to say. Damn it, he thought, help her! Courtly precedent be damned! He sighed. "If I were in command, the choice would have never been in doubt. For what it's worth, this is a waste of your dragon, and more importantly, you." He hesitated, but decided to continue. "You've got fire, my Lady. Fire enough to burn all your enemies to ash. I can sense it. But you'll not be doing anyone any favors letting that fire be snuffed. You say Moondancer is growing. Learn to ride her. Develop your bond. Grow fiercer, together. When the war does come, as I'm sure it will, you'll be ready. And we will all rue the day we had to leave you behind." He gave his most encouraging grin.
Once more, he found himself ambushed by a fierce hug. It really is uncanny how quickly she is able to pounce like this, he thought to himself. He considered not returning it, but decided he might as well return the favor, given that he'd already abandoned the pretense of courtly etiquette. As he wrapped his arms around her, she stood up on her toes to whisper: "I really do grow tired of this 'my Lady' nonsense. From now on, you must needs call me Baela."
He held her for a few moments longer before letting go. "The next time I see you, I want you to be on dragonback." Her purple eyes glowed with resolve as she nodded, beginning to grin. He found himself grinning back. He turned, realizing he needed to hurry. Turning when he reached the door, he added: "I'll see you around, Baela."
As he exited the room and made to retrace his steps down the hallways, he was surprised to find himself ambushed by Maegor and Nettles. Cracking one of her classic crooked-tooth smiles, Nettles spoke first: "You're going to get yourself in really big fucking trouble one of these days, Gaemon. I hope you know that."
Smiling wolfishly, he turned to Maegor, who crossed his arms as he appeared to be suppressing a grin on his normally stoic face. "I may have put it differently, but Nettles has a point, Gaemon."
"Of course I have a fucking point. I just don't want to see a fellow seed lose his head over some spilt seed is all. Especially not the one who buys me drinks."
Gaemon made a point of sighing loudly. "You are both concerned over nothing. Baela is my half sister. I'm simply excited to finally have siblings is all. Your drinks aren't going anywhere."
Nettles raised a dark brown eyebrow. "Even so, I'd be careful. The walls in these sorts of places probably have big fucking ears. And I don't think they like what they're hearing." Maegor nodded, still suppressing a grin.
"Fine, fine. The barbed flower has made her point." Grinning, and clapping a hand on each of their shoulders, Gaemon led his fellow seeds down the stone steps.
Once they had assembled in the yard, it hadn't taken long for attendants to swarm them, in order to properly outfit them. Their armor had been recently polished and cleaned, and the plate gleamed darkly. A fierce rainstorm had begun, but underneath the layers of plate and padding, Gaemon could barely feel its effects, aside for the droplets hitting his helm. His armor appeared as pristine as it had been the day he had received it, except for the slight scar where an arrow had struck it during the Gullet. He ran a finger along the scratch, before placing the dark winged helm over his head and fastening it beneath his chin. Once he was ready, he nodded, and servants belted his sword belt around his waist. Afterwards, they handed him his dragon whip, its barbed length still coiled, and its dragonbone handle cool to the touch. Mounting the Cannibal, he fastened the saddle chains, and cracked the whip in the air. The dragon beneath him roared, his ears ringing with the sound and his frame shaking from the force. Rising onto its legs, the beast flapped its wings powerfully, sending gusts of wind forward and staggering those assembled before it. Turning them downwards, it beat them heavily towards the ground, rising incrementally into the air as the rain lashed it. I'm grateful to have mastered one of the largest dragons, Gaemon thought, as this storm would prove difficult for the younger ones to overcome.
They rose into the air and began to circle the citadel, as the other dragons climbed into the sky. Vermithor and Silverwing came next, carrying Ulf and Hugh, and just behind them came the Queen on Syrax, roaring it's greetings. The Queen's dragon was a huge beast with scales of yellow, close to the Cannibal and Vermithor in size. Next came the Sheepstealer, with Nettles' small frame perched upon its back in her black mail. Addam followed on Seasmoke, and Maegor and the Grey Ghost fought their way through the lashing rain to finally join the others. Dragons enough to conquer the world, Gaemon thought to himself. The Conqueror and his sisters took Westeros with less than half our number of dragons. Surely we can overcome the Usurper with numbers as great as these!
The Queen raised her arm and cracked her whip as the storm raged, and Syrax roared in response, sending out a great gout of yellow flame that hissed in the rain. She led the column, and the others took their places behind her as they flew into the storm. Gaemon cast a final look into the courtyard below, where the assembled crowds were the size of ants. He could barely make out Moondancer, roaring mournfully as the dragons departed. Her slender pale green scaled form struggled against her heavy chains, and her pearl-white horned head tossed in frustration. A small figure rushed out of the keep to the dragon, and somehow began to calm it. It seems your dragon is as incensed at being left behind as you are, Baela. Turning his gaze away from the sights below, Gaemon cracked his dragon whip. The Cannibal sent a blinding blast of green flame at the storm clouds above in protest and began its flight, carrying them across the rocky fields of Dragonstone below. When they reached the shore, he could just make out a great fleet assembling. Dozens of Seahorse banners flapped in the wind and rain as the Queen's army embarked. Rhaenyra flew Syrax low, urging it to light the sky once more with its flames, and hundreds of soldiers could be seen waving and cheering below. Climbing back into the sky, the Queen led her dragonriders out from the island, and they began their journey over the grey and violent waves below.
After several hours of fighting their way through winds and rains that lashed them, a long coastline finally came into view. By this point Gaemon was thoroughly soaked through and had begun to shiver. Truth be told, I'm not sure whether I am shivering from the anticipation or the cold, he thought to himself. They followed the coastline south, and soon a vast city could be seen. Seven hells, I had always imagined it would be big, but this is absurd. Gaemon hadn't ever really been able to comprehend what a city of over one hundred thousand souls would actually look like. The city loomed large beneath them as they banked over it, and as thunder rumbled the sound of bells ringing began to filter into the heavens. Slowly at first, the sound began to spread across the entire city, and soon it was ringing madly as every gatehouse, sept, and tower began to join the chorus. In response, the dragons roared, their challenges echoing downward into the streets below. Below, hundreds, if not thousands, of people were taking to the streets, running madly for the gates.
Gaemon and Ulf peeled away from the group and began to circle their assigned landing area, a square atop the Hill of Visenya, as they had been instructed to do before. Maegor and Hugh directed their mounts to do the same, flying towards the Hill of Rhaenys and the Dragonpit that sat imposingly atop it. Nettles and the Queen flew Syrax and the Sheepstealer towards the Red Keep, and as Gaemon watched their approach, a new dragon's roar split the skies. Emerging from the storm clouds, a huge red beast joined the Queen and Nettles above the Red Keep. That must be Caraxes, he thought to himself. His stomach began to twist in knots. Atop the Blood Wyrm sits mine own father. Caraxes landed within the Red Keep first, assumedly to ensure the surrender went smoothly. Gaemon took that as his own sign, and urged the Cannibal downwards, cracking his whip and urging the dragon to emit a great searing blast of green flame as it descended. Might as well give those below a show… and a warning.
Descending for the landing, Gaemon urged the Cannibal to what looked to be the statue of a former Targaryen king that sat at the center of the square. His dragon landed heavily in the clearing, and despite the crowds he had seen streaming out of the city earlier, hundreds had still managed to gather around the edges of the square itself. Behind him, in the northern corner, a great sept stood, its bells clanging noisily. We get the point already, he thought to himself. Bells signal a surrender! Do you really take us for the type of people that would burn innocents by the thousands? Freeing himself from his saddle chains, he coiled his dragon whip in his hand, fastening it to his sword belt as he dismounted. Grabbing a waterproofed leather container from his belt, he unclasped the seal and withdrew the proclamation he had been asked to read. Maegor's insistence on teaching me my letters for all those years has really paid off, he thought as he smiled beneath his helm.
"People of King's Landing, this is a joyous day!" He began. "Long have you chafed under the rule of a usurper, who stole the crown from his own father's dying grasp in order to crown himself and steal his elder sister's birthright. Today, that sister has returned, to reclaim what is hers, and see herself crowned the rightful Queen. Rejoice! A new day has dawned, and the Queen offers clemency to those who stand down peacefully and accept her most benevolent rule."
A few cheers echoed out from the crowd, but for the most part it remained silent. They are probably too scared or shocked, the poor souls. Rolling the parchment up, he gripped the pommel of his blade as he approached the crowd. Many stumbled backwards over themselves at his approach. Lifting his visor, he tried to show he meant no harm.
"Is there a crier among you?" He scanned the crowd, and eventually an older, heavyset and bearded man emerged.
"I have served in that role for many a year, master." The man said as he hobbled forward, clutching a roughspun cap in his hands.
"See that this information is spread throughout the city. The Queen will see you rewarded for your services." Gaemon handed the man the parchment before turning and walking the distance back to the Cannibal. Climbing up its scaled flank, he chained himself into the saddle once more, and giving a nod to Ulf, who had landed a ways away, he uncoiled his whip, cracking it, and urging the Cannibal back into the grey skies.
The Red Keep's main courtyard was absolutely crowded with dragons by the time the rest of the seeds had landed their mounts. Gaemon was pleased that he did not have to use his whip to dissuade his dragon from snapping at the others. It is refreshing to see him making friends, at long last, he thought, suppressing a chuckle. The Queen stood alongside Nettles, and was receiving a report from one of the city guardsmen, who Gaemon was able to distinguish by his gold cloak.
"Anyways, as I was sayin, the boys and I made sure to grab the Grand Maester, and we took extra care to make sure not to let 'im send any of those birds of 'is flapping off. We 'ave received word from Ser Largent, and he says that Ser Gwayne Hightower is no longer kicking. All of the gates 'cept the River gate are in our hands; some Hightower knights and men-at-arms 'ave been giving the lads some trouble down there. We've received word your own men are pourin through the other gates though, so the city should be yours, your Grace."
Nodding graciously, the Queen responded: "I shall see that you and your men are amply rewarded for remembering your true loyalties to my Lord Husband and I. Please see to it that the Red Keep is secured, along with any persons of note who may be lurking within its walls."
Bobbing his head, the goldcloak left. As he did, a man in black plate emerged from another group of gold cloaks, before coming to kneel before the Queen. Taking her hand, he lifted his helmet's visor and planted a kiss upon her fingers. "It has been far too long, my Queen."
The Queen smiled warmly. "Rise, my Lord Husband." Gaemon's breath caught in his throat. The man removed his helm, allowing for pale silver hair to fall to his shoulders from where it had been kept beneath his helm. He turned to face the dragonriders who'd assembled behind him. "So these are my stepson's prized dragonseeds? I have heard so much about the lot of you. Roasting a fleet from the Three Daughters is no small feat. I could have put each of you to good use in the Stepstones." His eyes passed over each of them, resting on each for just a moment before finally turning back to face his wife. "My Queen, before we enter the great hall, I fear there are some fools that need attending to."
The Queen's eyes narrowed, and she followed her husband to the entrance of Maegor's holdfast, where a small crowd had assembled. The crowd had gathered in the courtyard outside of Maegor's Holdfast, just beyond a lowered drawbridge that spanned a gruesome dry moat filled with wickedly sharp iron spikes. At the center of the group stood a tall man, unbent with age, his brown hair heavily streaked with grey, coming to a point in a widow's peak. He frowned beneath an aquiline nose, his lips pressed firmly together into a thin line. He wore a grey doublet with white accents, and a golden chain around his neck. Next to him stood a beautiful woman in a green silken dress, with a golden circlet atop her head and a golden choker set with an emerald about her neck. Her long brown hair reached her waist, and was braided ornately. Her face was twisted in a barely concealed fury, and her brown eyes sparkled dangerously. Next was a tall man, dashing in red and gold silks. His eyes were as emerald as the stone in the woman's choker, and he had shoulder-length hair of beaten gold. The last individual of note stood tall, so straight that one got the impression that he had a spine of iron. His hair had once been black, but was now mostly grey, and he bore a patch of a green swirl-like image on yellow sewn into his grey doublet. Behind the group stood an assortment of household knights, men-at-arms, and what appeared to be a septon.
The Queen was the first to speak. "It has been too long since I have been able to regard that malice-filled face of yours, step-mother. I see you have surrounded yourself with leal lords and puissant knights. A shame, then, that most of the legendary ones have taken their leave of the city. You must forgive my intrusion. The doors were practically left wide-open, as it were."
"Enough of this farce, Princess. I have no time for your gloating. Instead, I beg that you heed my next words. This war has gone on for long enough. Let us together summon a great council, as the Old King did in the days of old, and lay the matter of succession before the lords of the realm." That must be the Dowager Queen, Alicent Hightower, Gaemon thought to himself.
Rhaenyra scoffed at Alicent's entreaties. "Do you mistake me for Mushroom?" She asked. "We both know how the council would rule. Instead, you have one choice to make today, stepmother. Yield or burn."
The Dowager Queen bowed her head in defeat. Wordlessly, she raised her hands, offering the Queen the keys to the city and ordering her sworn swords to stand down and drop their weapons. Raising her head, she spoke, her words dripping with hate: "The city is yours, Princess, but you will not hold it long. The rats play when the cat is gone, but my son Aemond will return with Fire and Blood."
The Queen gave orders for those assembled to be led away and detained, choosing not to grace the Dowager Queen's venom with a response. Afterwards, the assembled goldcloaks rushed into the now vacated Maegor's holdfast. Gaemon and the others stood waiting, expectantly, for what seemed an eternity in order to receive word the Usurper had been taken into custody. Eventually one emerged, looking decidedly downcast.
"We searched the entirety of the place, your Grace. We have found the Usurper's wife, Queen 'elaena, but there is no sign of the Usurper hisself. We broke the doors to his quarters, but found only his bed, empty, and 'is chamberpot full. Begging your pardon. 'Is children are gone too. The Princess Jaehaera and Prince Maelor are gone, along with two of the Usurper's Kingsguard, Ser Willis Fell and Ser Rickard Thorne. The former Master of Whispers, Lord Strong, is missing too. There is no sign of any of 'em, anywhere."
The Queen's eyes glowed with fury. "Seven curses upon my bro-the Usurper. Larys must have spirited them out while Alicent delayed us. Search the rest of the Keep. They may turn up yet." She then turned to face those still assembled. "As for the rest of you, I thank each of you for your service to my cause. We have struck a fine blow against our enemies on this day. I ask that you attend me for one final task." Turning, she strode imperiously out of the courtyard, retracing her earlier steps to where they had landed the dragons, before turning and approaching the largest of the pale red stone structures within the castle.
She bid some men-at-arms to open the great oak-and-bronze doors, revealing a cavernous hall. A long carpet ran along the center of the chamber, leading to a raised iron dais, upon which sat a towering and twisted construct of iron. The Iron Throne, Gaemon realized he had been holding his breath as the doors were opened. The seat of Kings certainly does not disappoint. Queen Rhaenyra entered, ordering for braziers lining the hall to be lit. As the flames began to dance in the great bronze structures, the skulls of the dragons of old began to glow with an otherworldly light. Balerion, Meraxes, Quicksilver, and Meleys. He had repeated the dynasty's dragons so many times to himself he could recite them by heart. Meleys' skull was less blackened than the others, and he realized it had been full of life and fire only a few months before. The Usurper must have had it cleaned and brought here after they paraded it through the city.
Scaling the narrow steps slowly, the Queen finally took her place, perched atop a mountain of melted steel. Gaemon's eyes followed Prince Daemon as he took a seat casually on the first few steps of the throne. Opening her mouth to speak, the Queen called for the black cells to be opened, and all prisoners to be brought before her for judgement. She also called for any and all prisoners of note taken throughout the day to be brought, in order to beg her forgiveness and swear renewed oaths of fealty. Messengers were sent, and after some time a huge crowd began to filter in, comprised of both men and women, young and old, wounded or simply possessing ruffled clothing. One by one, they began to kneel before the throne, professing their undying loyalty to the Queen and begging her forgiveness for oaths they had sworn to the Usurper "under duress."
While many of the lords and knights who had stayed true to the Queen's cause were rewarded for their loyalty with lands, offices and honors, none brought as much joy to the Queen as the appearance of an elderly knight, who was led coughing into the throne room.
The Queen's face lit as recognition dawned in her eyes. "Do my eyes betray me? Is that you, Ser Jarmen?"
The knight, reaching the base of the throne, knelt. "Your eyes do not deceive you, your Grace. The Usurper had me thrown into the Black Cells after I would not swear my sword to his cause. I have remained loyal to you since the beginning, as I was to your father and his grandfather before him. I ask now that you allow this old knight to swear his sword to your cause."
The Queen beamed down at the knight. Gaemon smiled beneath his helm, from where he stood with the other dragonseeds lining the path to the steps of the throne. When she smiles so, it is easy to see why they called her the Realm's Delight. A shame this war hasn't given her much cause for joy.
"Your wish is most definitely granted! Rise Ser Jarmen Follard, knight of the Queen. Prithee, my Lords and Knights, let us give three hurrahs for true loyalty, a trait most rare in these days of bloodshed and betrayal." The hall shook as a thousand voices cheered. The Queen rose, and spoke again: "I wish to conclude this evening's ceremony by rewarding my truest servants." She turned her gaze to Ser Lorent Marbrand, standing at the base of the Iron Throne. The knight had arrived earlier with Maester Gerardys, along with Lords Celtigar and Bar Emmon on the ships of Lord Velaryon's fleet.
"Ser Lorent, you are the last of my father's true Kingsguard. For your leal and unwavering service as a member of my Queensguard, I name you Lord Commander, and charge you with finding six knights of great loyalty and ability to replenish your brotherhood." Ser Marbrand knelt, and "thanked the Queen for the greatest honor he could aspire to."
Maester Gerardys was called forth next. The Queen spoke, saying: "My dear friend and council. As your astute mind has undoubtedly already ascertained, the office of Grand Maester lies vacant with the traitor Orwyle having been confined to the Black Cells. I wished to inform you that I will be writing the Citadel to inform them that you, my leal servant, will henceforth be the only true Grand Maester." Gerardys bowed low, his aged voice thanked the Queen for her generosity, and swore he would continue to serve her to the best of his ability.
With that, the Queen rose and gave orders for the hall to be cleared. Gaemon estimated that they were in the midst of the Hour of the Wolf. As the servants, knights, lords and other members of the crowd left the great hall, the dragonseeds continued to stand at attention, alongside Prince Daemon and Ser Marbrand. The Queen descended the steps, allowing for her Prince-Consort to help her. When she reached the bottom, she turned to Gaemon.
"You may remove your helmet, Ser Gaemon. We have one matter that must needs be discussed before the evening is out." He could feel the eyes of the other seeds boring into his back, and the Prince-Consort cast an inquisitive glance towards his wife. Gaemon removed his helmet, and knelt before the Queen.
"How might I serve, your Grace?" He asked. What could she possibly want with me? His heart had begun to race, considering the implications.
"Certain rumors have come to my attention concerning claims you made in the past regarding your patronage. Is it true that you have claimed to be the natural son of my Prince-Consort? I have also been told that you hold proof of your claims. I would see it."
Gaemon's heart dropped. Did Baela tell her? This could mean my death! Struggling to keep himself from shaking, he pulled the leather string hanging from his neck out from under his armor and gorget. He held it upside-down over his open hand, allowing the golden dragon bearing the visage of the Queen's own father to fall into his palm.
"My Queen… the rumors you have heard are true. I have claimed that the Prince was my father. I was told from a young age that my mother lay with him years ago, and that he gave her this dragon in recompense. As a boy in my village it gave me great pride to…"
"Enough! I will hear no more of these calumnies. I could have your tongue out or your head struck off for uttering such words." Hissed the Queen. She turned to her consort. "What say you? Do these words hold any truth?"
Gaemon swore he saw a brief flash of recognition dance behind the eyes of the Rogue Prince. His face quickly changed into a sardonic grin, however. "My dear Queen, are you asking me to have kept track of every maiden I deflowered over the years? For if so, I believe that would be quite impossible. Are the boy's words true? Mayhaps. But he could have easily found or stolen such a coin."
The Queen studied her consort's face, before turning to Gaemon's once more. Her indignance had subsided, replaced with a look of calculation. Her face softening, she spoke: "I have not forgotten that you returned my youngest child to me." She sighed. "I will hear no more of this, from any of you. I will show mercy this once, for your service rendered unto me, and your future services rendered. Guards, see my dragonriders from the hall to their new quarters in the Dragonpit." Turning, she allowed herself to be led behind the throne, where a door to her chambers existed.
Gaemon stood, and allowed himself to be led into the night. He was stunned, and his mind was racing. None of the scenarios in his mind had gone like this. I somehow always thought he'd claim me. Instead, he turned his back on me. His armored fists clenched. If the Rogue Prince has no use for me, then I have no use for him. I will shape my own destiny from without his shadow. He exited the great hall, emerging into the courtyard with the other seeds. The wind carried the smell of ash.
A/N: Well hello again, fancy meeting you here! Thanks for reading this chapter. Things are really starting to heat up for Rhaenyra and her dragonseeds, and a decisive move has been made. Divergences have already occurred within this timeline due to the presence of two additional seeds, but some events mirror the original Dance. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and am eager to hear what you think might be coming next. Be sure to let me know if you have other authors you think would be a good fit in the community that is being assembled. Lastly, All Hail Rhaenyra, First of Her Name. Long May She Reign!