Merry Christmas, readers! Here is the chapter that details the aftermath of the sudden death of Prince Gaemon the Blind. Enjoy!
A hole of immeasurable size had been ripped into Jaehaera's heart after her oldest son and child, Prince Gaemon the Blind, passed away suddenly late in the twenty-eighth night of the tenth moon. The bereaved mother mourned over her dead child, her anguished wails shrill and painful to those who were within earshot. Gaemon's equally sorrowful grandmother, Helaena, was able to regain enough of her composure to try and attend to her grief-stricken daughter. Helaena gathered the disconsolate Jaehaera in a comforting embrace, and the younger princess let go of her son's body to return her mother's hug. Retaining her motherly hold on Jaehaera, Helaena gently led her daughter away from Gaemon and out of Maester Urban's room.
Jaehaera struggled at first, trying to escape her mother's grasp to plant herself by her son's side to hold and weep over him some more. But she soon relented as Helaena continued on with her course, and Jaehaera became all but limp in her mother's arms. Sympathy and silence greeted mother and daughter as they exited Urban's room with a solemn Ser Edmund Naeryon following after them. Instead of taking Jaehaera back to her and Gaemon's room, Helaena escorted her daughter to her own quarters. Getting the whimpering and sniffling Jaehaera to lie down on her bed, Helaena then ordered Edmund to go collect and bring over Aegon and Aeva so that they could be informed of their big brother's passing and be held by their mother.
Edmund did as he was told, and he soon returned with the nervous Aegon and Aeva. A lachrymose Helaena got down on one knee and gathered her grandchildren into her arms and informed them that their older brother had fallen seriously ill and was no longer with them. Aegon and Aeva bowed their heads and wept. Unable to say anymore, Helaena guided her grandson and granddaughter to their mother, and the three of them huddled together on Helaena's bed to try and sleep through the rest of the night. Helaena watched over her daughter and grandchildren until the arrival of Ladies Thea Celtigar and Myrine Darklyn during the hour of the nightingale as the news of her grandson's death spread throughout the Red Keep.
Exhausted both physically and emotionally, the sorrowful but grateful princess silently shook her head at Thea and Myrine's offers of having her sleep in their beds in favor of sleeping on the couch that was at the foot of her own bed. Helaena fell into a deep, dreamless sleep as soon as she closed her eyes. Daylight greeted Helaena when she woke up hours later. Her eyes were puffy and dry, and they burned whenever she blinked. A warm sensation was wrapped around the princess, a warmth that did not come from sunlight, and Helaena soon discovered that a blanket had been draped over her.
Stiff from having slept on the couch, Helaena grunted as she stirred.
"My lady?"
Helaena looked to her right to see Maester Urban rising from a chair beside a wardrobe. Her senses still fogged with sleep, Helaena could only let out a tired groan to acknowledge the maester. Tiptoeing to the princess with his arms folded into the big sleeves of his robe, Urban whispered a question to her.
"How are you feeling?"
The question made Helaena pause for a moment. Groggy as she was, the princess had awoken feeling that everything was normal. Urban's question made that feeling of normalcy melt away like a snowflake on a warm cheek. Replacing that short-lived mundane pleasantness was a smoldering fire of pain that grew rapidly into an inferno that consumed Helaena's heart and soul. She remembered then that her ten year old grandson had died just last night.
Her and family's lives were never going to be the same again. The princess's lips quivered, and her purple eyes were quickly flooded with tears at the tragic memory. Maester Urban, his brow crinkled with sympathy, placed a comforting hand on the crying Helaena's right shoulder.
"Would you like for me to have some wine brought up?" the maester kindly asked. He pulled out a glass bottle of sweetsleep from his satchel. "I can mix this into the wine to help keep Jaehaera and the children calm."
Wiping away her tears, Helaena's first words of the day were spoken with a soft, trembling, and distant sounding voice.
"Yes, please, Urban. That would be wonderful. Have milk sent up as well for Aegon and Aeva. Put the sweetsleep in that, too. Thank you."
Urban nodded silently, but before he set off to go find a servant, Helaena had one more request to make.
"Please send for bread and cheese, too, Urban, just in case anyone wakes up hungry. Thank you so very much. I apologize if I am being overbearing..."
Urban nodded once again, and he smiled softly at the elder princess in understanding.
"You have nothing to apologize for, your grace. I shall go send for what you asked for now."
And off the maester went to order the food and drink. Three female servants later arrived bearing platters that bore flagons of wine, water (which would be used to dilute the wine with), and milk with little towers of stacked cups to drink them with, loaves of fresh baked bread, and logs of soft white goat cheese. Oddly enough to Helaena, a male food taster had also been sent for by Urban. Jaehaera and her two (surviving) children began to stir as breakfast was being prepared for them. Stirring also were Jaehaera's dearest companions.
Myrine had slept at the bottom edge of the mattress while Thea had fallen asleep in her chair at the right side of the bed with her head resting on her crossed arms. Both women woke up stiff from their uncomfortable sleeping arrangements like Helaena did. They stretched and yawned before attending to Jaehaera and her son and daughter. Aegon and Aeva did not burst into tears upon remembering that their big brother was gone like their grandmother did, but they were somber and quiet, their expressions depressingly dark. Jaehaera did not rise from her bed. She opened her red, puffy eyes, but did not move or say anything.
The grieving mother had not registered the presence of the servants and food taster, the latter who was now sampling the food and beverages. Jaehaera's children, companions, and mother observed the scene with perplexed looks on their faces as they watched the food taster go about his work. Helaena tapped softly on Urban's arm and gestured for him to lean his head over to her to whisper into his ear.
"Why is there a food taster here, Urban?"
The maester bit his lip nervously. Thankfully for him, he had an answer ready.
"I will tell you later, princess. I will tell you after the children depart."
When the food taster failed to suffer from any symptoms of poisoning, breakfast, small as it was, was served. Jaehaera refused to eat even one bite of bread or cheese, but some cajoling from Thea got her to take a few sips of sweetwine. Aegon and Aeva both still had something of an appetite, and they each ate one slice of bread topped with cheese and drank a cup of sweetmilk. This was enough to break the children's fast, and Aegon and Aeva were then led out of the room by Ladies Celtigar and Darklyn to return to their own rooms to change out of their nightclothes and to get some fresh air. Princess Jaehaera protested weakly at first at the idea of her son and daughter leaving her side, but she relented when her mother reassured her that Aegon and Aeva would be fine and that they would be under the watchful eye of not only Thea and Myrine, but also that of Helaena's own two dearest companions, Ladies Walda Bracken and Rhiannon Reyne.
Only Helaena, Jaehaera, and Urban remained in the bedchamber after the children, servants, and two noblewomen filed out of the room. As soon as the door was shut, Jaehaera sat up in the bed and repeated the same question her mother had asked Maester Urban verbatim about the food taster. Surprised at first from hearing the same exact question again from Helaena's daughter, Urban took a deep breath and addressed both women.
"Your graces," he began, his speech trepid, "according to the autopsy performed by Grand Maester Thaleus just before sunrise today, Prince Gaemon's cause of death is inconclusive."
Helaena and Jaehaera wrinkled their brows.
"Why didn't you perform the autopsy, Maester Urban?" asked Helaena.
Closing his eyes and sighing deeply, Urban answered the older princess's question.
"I was summoned by your half-sister about half an hour after you all left my chambers, your grace. The queen said that in light of recent events, she would feel more comfortable if Thaleus were the one to examine Gaemon. I had told her that I suspected Gaemon's cause of death to be mushroom poisoning, and Queen Rhaenyra might of have believed that I was somehow implying that it was purposeful."
"How did you imply that?" demanded Helaena, her tone sounding reproachful.
Urban sighed again. "Only Gaemon fell ill last night, your grace. He ate two bowls of mushroom soup, and the symptoms of his illness were indicative of mushroom poisoning. Stomach pain, fever, looseness of the bowels." Urban paused for a moment before he suggested a possible motive if Gaemon was indeed poisoned on purpose. "A thousand pardons, my ladies. Forgive me, for what I am about to say, but what if Queen Rhaenyra had Gaemon poisoned to avenge the death of Prince Jacaerys?"
Helaena's demeanor swiftly changed from offended to anxious after she heard Urban's treasonous suggestion. The seed of doubt had been planted in her heart against the Blacks' innocence, and it had immediately sprouted and was growing rapidly. That seed had also been planted in Jaehaera, too. She was sitting straight up on the bed with her attention rapt on the maester. She had her own suggestion to make.
"What if Aegon was the intended target?" Quiet as the younger princess was, the stillness that had followed after Urban had offered up the potential motive for Gaemon's poisoning made it easy for Helaena and the maester to hear Jaehaera. They both turned to face Jaehaera, their faces looking nervous.
"Gaemon ate Aegon's soup last night," Jaehaera said, her tone flat and cold. Her voice never wavered, and there were no tears in her eyes. It contrasted sharply with Jaehaera's earlier emotional state: lachrymose, lethargic, and lamentable. Helaena and Urban's attention remained fixed on the princess as she continued sharing her theory about her oldest son's death. Suspicion grew stronger in the hearts of both Helaena and Urban as they listened.
"Aegon is strong and healthy. Gaemon was blind and frail. Out of all my children, Uncle Aemond is fondest of Aegon. Killing my youngest son would have hurt Uncle Aemond more so than killing Gaemon will. If Aunt Rhaenyra cannot have my uncle's head, then the life of one of his kinsmen will suffice until he reappears and is captured..."
Helaena and Urban exchanged dark looks. Suspicion, anxiety, and horror filled their eyes. Was Gaemon's death really an act of vengeance for Jace's murder by his granduncle's hands, or was his younger brother Aegon the intended target of revenge, his dislike for mushrooms having saved his life? Even though Urban suspected that Prince Aegon had been marked for death, too, he tried to dispel the anxiety and fear in the room by sharing the fact that the Grand Maester was investigating Gaemon's death further by questioning the castle cooks and even the greengrocer from where the mushrooms were purchased from. Sharing this information, sadly, did nothing to quell the unease that now rankled within the three souls gathered in that bedchamber.
And as it turned out, the idea that Prince Gaemon the Blind was a victim of foul play was not endemic to Helaena's bedchamber. News of the young prince's death spread throughout the Seven Kingdoms via raven and rumors about the mysterious nature of his demise spread via word of mouth. Poison was the first thing that came to people's minds when they pondered how Gaemon died, while others whispered that he had been smothered like his great-grandmother. The most outlandish rumor suggested that the enigmatic Master of Whisperers, Ghost, a purported shadowbinder from Asshai, might have conjured up a shadow assassin to murder Gaemon. As for motive, revenge was strongly considered, but some gossiped about the possibility that Gaemon was murdered as a desperate last resort to try and goad his granduncle into coming out of hiding.
Perhaps the motivation to murder Gaemon was a combination of both vengeance and desperation? Regardless, both Blacks and Greens and highborn and lowborn whispered about what the cause of Gaemon's death was. If anyone had betted on how the boy died, they were sorely disappointed later that same afternoon when another round of ravens descended upon the Reach bearing the Grand Maester's final ruling. According to Thaleus, Gaemon's death was accidental. Questioning the greengrocer from where the mushrooms that were cooked into last night's soup were bought from resulted in a trip by Thaleus and his maesters to the local woodlands where the fungi were harvested.
This investigative trip led to the discovery that two species of mushrooms both edible and toxic grew in close proximity to each other and were almost perfectly identical in appearance. Although Thaleus had no specimens from Gaemon's stomach to compare to the samples he took from the forest due to the latter having thrown it all up before he died (no more mushrooms in the royal kitchens from last night either), the Grand Maester concluded that the young prince's death was purely a tragic accident, and that no foul play was involved. No one was going to be punished or executed. That was nice and all, but it did not lessen the cruel fact that a young boy had died. Not only that, but his death was also painful and horrific, too...
Prince Maelor Targaryen was at Goldengrove when he received the news of his nephew's death and how it was caused. Between the interval of the two ravens that flew to the seat of House Rowan from the Red Keep, Maelor was dazed with grief. He wandered aimlessly about the great castle contemplating his loss and thinking about how his sister, mother, and other nephew and niece were coping. Just as the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, another raven arrived at Goldengrove. Unlike the previous two ravens, this one flew in from Oldtown.
The letter the raven bore was addressed from Maelor's uncle, Prince Daeron Targaryen. In that letter, Daeron expressed his condolences to his nephew over the loss of his own nephew and invited him to come to Oldtown to attend a prayer vigil that was being held at the Starry Sept that evening in Gaemon's memory. Jaehaerys and Lydus were going to attend. Aelyx, Baela, and Joffrey were not invited. Princess Baela was not at all offended when she learned that she was being excluded from the vigil.
"It's for the best that I do not go," Baela said to Maelor in a reassuring manner as they discussed Daeron's invitation. "With the way things are right now, my presence, and that of Joff's and my son's, would cause further friction between us and the Reachmen. Go on ahead. Leaving now will give you plenty of daylight to fly with to Oldtown before it gets dark."
Maelor nodded wordlessly, and as he turned to leave, Baela expressed her condolences to him one more time.
"I am sorry for your loss, cousin. You and your family are in my thoughts."
"Thank you, Baela," was Maelor's response before departing to mount Meteor and fly off to Oldtown.
The flight to Oldtown was a peaceful one, and Maelor's mind wandered as the wind blew in his face. Gaemon was the first thing on Maelor's mind, of course, but peripherally, his thoughts were on being back at Oldtown again. Maelor did not want to be around Lyonel Hightower again ever since he accused him of murdering his own grandmother. An accusation that led to the death of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon and the swift downward spiral of Black and Green relations. Maelor wished that he was back home at King's Landing with his family.
He could comfort his sister and her children and their mother as they grieved. He could be with Visenya and Rhaenys and be present at the Red Keep when his son is born. Was Jaehaerys feeling any sorrow over the death of his firstborn son? Maelor hoped that his older brother was at least crestfallen over losing Gaemon, but he had a sickening feeling that Jaehaerys would be glad to be finally rid of his invalid firstborn, whom he coldly viewed as an embarrassment since the moment he first saw Gaemon's blind, milky blue eyes the night he was born. Maelor would soon find out what his brother's sentiments were, for as nightfall approached, he spotted the Hightower Pharos on the horizon.
Greeting Maelor and Meteor when they arrived at the Hightower's courtyard were Jaehaerys, Lydus, and Daeron. The two brothers embraced, and Maelor inquired Jaehaerys as to how he was feeling.
"Sad," Jaehaerys said, his voice sounding more disappointed than sorrowful. Pausing for only a second, Jaehaerys spoke further, "but forgive me, I also feel relieved."
Maelor's face twitched slightly in response to his brother's words. Jaehaerys's callous reception to his own son's passing was to be expected, but it still floored Maelor, nevertheless. Glancing over at his uncle and cousin, Maelor could tell that they too were uncomfortable by what Jaehaerys had said. Jaehaerys had noticed Maelor's face twitching, and he was quick to supplement his sentiment over Gaemon's death with his reason why he felt that way.
"Come now, Maelor." Jaehaerys then looked over his shoulder and gestured towards Daeron and Lydus. "We all knew that Gaemon was never going to amount to anything. He was blind, frail, and simple. Jaehaera fed, bathed, and dressed him; Gaemon could do none of those things on his own, and he was ten years old! In death, my son is finally free of his infirmities, and he is with his grandfather and great-grandparents now.
I beseech you all to find peace in that thought. I do."
As much as he hated to admit it, Maelor knew that his brother was right, even though he was still being callous about Gaemon's death. Maelor pictured his nephew seated between his grandfather, Prince Aegon the Younger, and his great-grandfather, King Viserys I Targaryen, in the Father's golden hall. In heaven, Gaemon was as he should've been in life: fit, healthy, and able to see with purple eyes that were the same shade as his father's. Free as Gaemon was in death, Maelor knew that his sister would much rather have her son back with her blind but alive. He did not share this thought with Jaehaerys, though, and he simply nodded in muted (reluctant) agreement to what his brother had said.
The four men departed for the wheelhouses in the courtyard shortly after this conversation took place. It did not take long to arrive at the Starry Sept. The vigil had quite a turnout. The upper echelons of Oldtown society ascended the steps to enter the sanctuary alongside the Reach's most noteworthy and influential noblemen. Maelor saw Lord Lyonel Tyrell with his uncle and cousin and two squires. Walking behind the High Marshal of the Reach were the Hightower's: the other Lord Lyonel, the Voice of Oldtown, and members from both his immediate and extended family.
Lord Augustus Redwyne walked alongside his sister and brother-in-law. Tailing after Augustus was a tall manservant wearing clothes that were a garish ocean blue with burgundy trim. Lord Bulwer followed after his Hightower cousins with his own retinue. Looking around some more, Maelor saw Lord Costayne, the father of Ser Reginald Hightower's wife, Vivian, and the oldest grandson and heir of Lord Ashford. The Lord and Lady of Brightwater Keep were in attendance as well with Aldus's four oldest sons and six of his grown grandsons. As for the women, Alys Rivers walked up with her son Lydus while Daenaera and Baelon climbed the steps ahead of them.
It was quite the gathering. Seeing these lords and ladies made Maelor feel uneasy. These individuals had relatives who were being held hostage by the Iron Throne. None of the nobility looked Maelor's way, and he hoped that they wouldn't, for he did not want to see the hatred they no doubt harbored for him and his mother-in-law. Once everyone had filed into the sanctuary, their eyes were all fixed on the High Septon, which greatly relieved Maelor. Once everyone was seated, the vigil began.
The High Septon presided over the vigil with great skill and tactfulness, for he spoke kindly of Prince Gaemon Targaryen, offered condolences to the boy's bereaved family, and guided those gathered to pray and sing hymns with him in honor of the prince. It was a beautiful ceremony. Many a tear were shed both in memory of Gaemon and from the emotions that were aroused by the wonderous sounds of the praying and singing voices that filled the Starry Sept that night. The crowd left in somber silence at the vigil's conclusion. The silence followed the Reach lords and Green Targaryen's as they returned to the Hightower.
Supper was eaten quietly in the high hall. The absence of Prince Valarr Targaryen and twins Ladies Prisicilla and Samantha Hightower, including their half-uncle's wife, Lady Vivian Costayne, were as glaring as a gash in that hall. At some point, Bethany whispered into her husband's ear, whatever she said causing him to nod and stand up to make an announcement.
"My lords and ladies, my wife and I have some news to share with you all. We have been keeping this quiet due to recent events, and although this is taking place on the evening of the death of my sister's beloved grandson, my wife and I are happy to announce that we are expecting our sixth child together. Bethany and I thought we could bring some cheer to everyone here tonight with this bit of good news."
Words of congratulations filled the high hall soon after Daeron announced Bethany's pregnancy, and the mood was clearly elevating.
"How far along are you, Bethany?" asked Lady Jeyne Merryweather.
"Almost four weeks," was Bethany's reply. "Seeing little Garth after he was born made Daeron and I consider having one more child together before we get too old."
"Old? You're only a year older than me, Bethany!" said a grinning Lady Myrielle Peake, who was thirty-one years old. Bethany chuckled at Myrielle's response.
"I suppose you are right, Myri. But I – no - we're all not getting any younger either. Daeron and I agreed that this will be our last child. We're both hoping it's a girl so that we can have three of each."
"If we do have another daughter, I'm going to name her Alicent in honor of my mother," added Daeron as he laid a gentle hand on his wife's still flat belly. Ten year old Vaella copied what her father did, and she too laid a hand on her mother's womb where her younger brother or sister was growing. Bethany wrapped her left arm around her daughter and held her close. Many heads nodded in silent, respectful agreement.
"What name will you give the baby if it turns out to be a boy, papa? Mama?" asked Vaella when she looked up from her mother's embrace.
"Aelor, sweetling," was Daeron's answer to his daughter's question.
Bethany was pensive for a moment before she looked up to address her husband's oldest nephew.
"Jaehaerys, would you and Jaehaera mind if Daeron and I were to name our child after Gaemon in case we do end up having a boy? Your son's memory will live on through his cousin."
Jaehaerys's expression was neutral at first, but then it became warm. He smiled softly at his uncle's wife.
"Of course, you can, Aunt Beth. Thank you for asking. Jaehaera will be touched."
"Shouldn't you be feeling touched, too?" Maelor thought of saying to his brother, but he resisted the urge to do so. He did not want to cause a scene. Instead, it was Maelor's young cousin Vaella who would end up (unintentionally) doing exactly that.
"Valarr would love to have a younger brother," Vaella said wistfully. It was no secret that she missed her twin brother. Bringing up her missing sibling caused a ripple effect in the high hall. Both Princess Vaella's relatives and their guests began missing their captive kinfolk, and the hall's once happy mood quickly soured. Lady Patricia Redwyne got up out of her chair to go cry out in the hallway so that no one could see her tears.
Bethany, Jeyne, and Myrielle all got up to go attend to the heartbroken mother who dearly missed her twin daughters, who were being held captive at Honeyholt by Prince Joffrey Velaryon and the Beesbury's. Poor Vaella looked horrified as she watched the high hall's atmosphere turn dark and somber again. Thankfully, no one held any anger towards the princess, least of all her father, who collected the girl into his arms and held and comforted her. In the aftermath of this tidal wave of sadness crashing down around them, everyone gathered in the high hall retired to their chambers even though the night was still young. Maelor trudged up the stairs with sagging shoulders to his bedchamber, where he then collapsed onto the bed and waited for sleep to come.
Sleep would take a long time coming to Maelor that night. The prince was still lying flat on his bed when he heard a knock at the door.
"What?" grumbled an irritated Maelor.
"Cousin, it's me, Lydus."
Maelor sat up.
"What is it, Lydus?" asked Maelor with a kinder tone.
"Can I come in? I need to share something important with you."
"By all means enter. The door is unlocked."
The door opened and Lydus came in and closed it behind him. He rushed over to Maelor and leaned in close to his cousin in a conspiratorial manner.
"Lord Lyonel Hightower wishes to see you in his solar. Jaehaerys is there with the others. My mother and I will be there, too."
Maelor stared at his cousin with a bemused look.
"What?" he finally managed to say. "What is going on? Why does Lyonel want to see me? Who are these others?"
"Just come with me, Maelor," implored Lydus. "I know that there is bad blood between you and Lyonel, but for tonight, let there be peace between you two. Now make haste and come with me."
Annoyed as he was about being in close proximity to his second cousin once removed, Maelor was also curious about what could be going on. Slipping his boots back on, Maelor followed Lydus out of his room and up to Lyonel's solar. The journey did not take long. Waiting for the two cousins in Lord Hightower's large and richly decorated solar when they arrived was an assembly of high-ranking noblemen and one woman, Alys Rivers. Maelor gaped at the sight as Lydus took a quick look down the hallway before closing and locking the solar's double doors.
A long walnut table sat in the middle of the room with three lit silver candelabras resting on the tabletop. Sitting around the table were most of the same lords whom Maelor had seen entering the Starry Sept earlier that evening for the prayer vigil. At the end of the table which faced a veranda that overlooked the Sunset Sea was Lord Lyonel Hightower, who was flanked on his right by his son Willem; his half-brother Reginald, and Maester Ulrich while three of Lyonel's cousins: Sers Gwayne, Myles, and Cyril Hightower, flanked him on his left. At the end of the table facing the door sat Lord Lyonel Tyrell and his uncle and cousin. On Lord Hightower's right sat Princes Daeron and Jaehaerys Targaryen, Lord Augustus Redwyne, and Lords Ashford, Bulwer, and Costayne, and on his left was Lord Aldus Florent, who was this time joined by his two eldest sons and firstborn grandson.
Alys Rivers stood behind Augustus with her back to the wall. Lord Redwyne's garishly dressed manservant, who was called Ade, stood a respectful distance behind him with his head down and his hands folded neatly over his stomach. Lord Tyrell, who had turned around in his chair to look at Maelor and Lydus, then turned back to face Lord Hightower.
"Lyonel, everyone is here. Let us begin at once."
"Not yet, my lord," said Lord Hightower. "There is one more person who must make an appearance."
"What do you mean?" Lord Tyrell asked. "Who else needs to be here? You're solar is almost full to bursting!"
"Just one more," replied Lord Hightower soothingly to his overlord. He then looked at Alys. "Alys, help Ade wash his hair."
Everyone except Lords Lynonel Hightower and Augustus Redwyne, Prince Daeron Targaryen, Alys, and Ade were absolutely befuddled by this command. Alys peeled herself off from the wall and turned to face the table that stood beside her on her left. She shared a look with Ade before preparing the large basin, flagon, and a towel that were resting on the tabletop. Ade approached the table and leaned his head over the basin as Alys began pouring water from the flagon on his head. Ade began scrubbing his hair as Alys poured more water on him.
Observing this bizarre scene were an audience of anxious and confused princes, lords, and knights. Lord Bulwer noticed how the water that was being poured on Ade's head dripped a muddy brown color into the basin as he scrubbed. It was hair dye. Silver-gold began to gleam under the candlelight as Ade continued washing his hair. Jaws dropped, eyes widened, and some of the audience members stood up from their chairs as they witnessed the manservant's transformation.
Ade rose up once he washed out all of the hair dye and Alys dabbed his face with a damp cloth and dried his hair with a towel. The manservant then reached up to his face with his right hand and appeared to be fiddling with something there. A small, hard object was placed on the table, and Ade took something from Alys's outstretched right hand. "Fixing" whatever he took from Alys's hand onto his face, Ade turned around to make his grand reveal. Standing before all those assembled was none other than the fugitive Prince Aemond Targaryen himself.
Gasping filled the solar, and shocked looks were exchanged between the men. Aemond grinned from ear to ear at the sensation he had caused.
"Father?" Lydus stammered as he took a step towards his sire. Aemond's grin became fatherlier once he looked over at his oldest son. He spread his arms out in a welcoming way.
"In the flesh, my son," Aemond said. "In the flesh."
Lydus's face glowed and a boyish smile formed on his face. The prince all but rushed over to embrace his father, afterwards he stood beside him and his mother. There was a brief silence before Ser Gwayne broke it with a demanding voice.
"What is going on here!? Aemond, where have you been? How have you avoided detection for so long?"
"It is a long story, Uncle Gwayne, but I will summarize it as best I can."
And what a story it was! On the night he decapitated Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, Aemond was lying on the bed in his cell wide awake. The one-eyed prince was anxiously contemplating what his fate would be once he was delivered into the clutches of his hated half-sister when he heard footsteps coming down the hall. The footsteps stopped in front of his cell door, the sound of a key being inserted into the lock and unlocking it could be heard, and then the door opened. The gaoler stepped aside to allow Daeron and Lord Hightower to enter and collect Aemond.
Both men reassured Aemond about the gaoler's silence as they left the dungeons, for the man had been bribed handsomely by Lyonel and he promised not to utter a peep about the truth behind Aemond's escape. Under the cover of darkness, Aemond was taken to an unoccupied manse that was close to the Hightower to hide out for the time being until it was safe to move again. Aemond the Kinslayer hid out there for three days as his second cousin "searched" for him in Oldtown. On the third night of him lying low and evading capture, after Lord Hightower reopened the city gates and docks, and Aemond's older sister and her family departed from Oldtown, Aemond was snuck onto a ship that belonged to the Lord of the Arbor, who was willing to protect his brother-in-law's cousin under guest right until Aemond could find another place to flee to. Hiding out at the Arbor was comfortable at first until word arrived at the island that the Velaryon Fleet and Prince Lucerys Velaryon were going to make their base there at the start of the manhunt for Aemond the Kinslayer.
Boxed in with nowhere else to go, Aemond grew desperate, and he accepted Augustus's suggestion that he disguise himself as an Arbor peasant. Aemond's sliver-gold hair was dyed brown, his sapphire eye was replaced with a common glass one with a blue iris painted on it, and the scarring around his eye socket covered up with face powder. Put to work in the vineyards on the Redwyne's estate, Aemond was not at all idllyic like he thought it would be, and he was quick complain to his captive audience how tending to the vines and grapes was hot, dusty, sticky work that left him exhausted at the end of the day. As much as he hated slaving away in the vineyards, the one-eyed prince soon discovered just how effective his disguise was. Aemond was tasked with sweeping the courtyard of a winery one bright, sunny afternoon when he encountered his hated half-nephew, who was accompanied by two Velaryon knights as he conducted a search for the man who slew his older brother in a moment of blind rage.
Aemond kept his head down and tried to focus on sweeping so that the Lord of the Tides would overlook him. The prince recalled tensing up as he heard the three men saunter closer to him. Much to his great amazement and relief, Luke and the knights walked past Aemond without so much as casually glancing at him. He had not been recognized. It took everything within Aemond to not guffaw out loud in excitement over his great luck as Luke and the knights continued on their way.
Recalling how he fooled Prince Lucerys made Aemond chuckle and stupefied his captivated listeners. But living in disguise began taking its toll on Aemond as the days came and went. He soon grew tired of having to always watch his back, to be careful, and to keep a low profile. News from the mainland regarding his manhunt didn't help things either. Aemond started feeling guilty when he heard about his cousins, nephews, and grandniece being taken hostage on the crown's orders and the fiery havoc that was wreaked upon the seats of Houses Ashford and Tyrell.
He also began noticing Lord Redwyne's growing stress over trying to hide him on the island with the Velaryon's living under the same guest right he was giving Aemond. Thoughts of turning himself in to the Blacks were being entertained by Aemond when he heard about the sudden death of his grandnephew at King's Landing.
"I had a gut feeling as soon as I heard about Gaemon's death this morning that that old whore had something to do with it," Aemond said as he met the eyes of his audience. "I sent a letter to my cousin Lyonel and brother Daeron to share my suspicions with them, and they wrote back saying that they agreed with me and invited me back to the Hightower to discuss it."
"You think Aunt Rhaenyra poisoned Gaemon intentionally, Uncle Aemond?" asked a disbelieving Maelor. His uncle nodded.
"Yes. Everyone gathered here, besides you, Maelor, thinks so, too. Rhaenyra probably killed your nephew to avenge Jace, to try and force me out of hiding, or both."
Maelor glanced around at the people in the room, his gaze was met with nodding heads and grunts of confirmation. Jaehaerys did not nod, but he seemed to be contemplating what his uncle was saying. Poor Maelor was not sure what to think, but what he did know was that he felt alone in that solar even with all of these people present.
"But Grand Maester Thaleus said that Gaemon's death was accidental..."
"He's the queen's maester, Maelor," Lord Hightower grumbled with annoyance at what he perceived to be his cousin's naiveté. "He's on her side and will do whatever it takes to make Rhaenyra appear guiltless of any crime she may have committed." Lyonel then tightly squeezed the armrests of his chair. "Poison is a woman's weapon after all, a weapon that the queen knows very well..."
Maester Ulrich sighed silently and rolled his eyes. Four years had passed since Lord Lyonel Hightower had been bereaved of his stepmother and younger brothers and half-sisters, and he still fervently believed that they had all been poisoned by Queen Rhaenyra even after Ulrich had told him time and time again that it was typhoid fever that took the lives of Lady Sam, Martyn, Garmund, Lilith, and Regina. Ulrich had grown tired of trying to convince his liege lord otherwise, especially now in this situation. But in regards to Gaemon the Blind's death, Ulrich suspected foul play, too. His twin brother Urban had sent him a letter from the Red Keep that afternoon detailing his suspicions regarding the prince's death, and Ulrich, who did consider his twin's loyalty to the Green Targaryen's in King's Landing, began suspecting Queen Rhaenyra of being a kinslayer.
Maelor glared angrily at Lyonel briefly before turning his attention to his older brother.
"Jaehaerys," he began anxiously, "what do you think of all this? Do you seriously believe that Aunt Rhaenyra poisoned your son? What on earth could she gain from killing Gaemon?"
Jaehaerys, who had his hands clasped seemingly in prayer with his lips pressed gently against the knuckles of his thumbs, turned to face his younger brother.
"To be honest, Maelor, I am not sure what to believe. However, what uncle has been saying makes sense to me." Jaehaerys then moved his gaze towards Aemond. "But something tells me that there is more to this meeting than discussing my son's death. What is really going on here, Uncle Aemond?"
Silence fell upon the solar. Only the faint sounds of waves crashing on the Sunset Sea many stories down below could be heard. Tension could also be felt from Lord Hightower and Princes Aemond and Daeron.
"You are right, nephew," spoke Aemond after about a minute of silence, "there is more to this meeting than meets the eye. Lord Redwyne and I did not risk sailing from the Arbor to Oldtown and gather everyone here just to talk about Gaemon." He then gestured towards everyone with a wave of his arm. "You were all invited here for a reason, a very important reason." He looked at Jaehaerys, his sapphire eye gleaming in the candlelight. "Jaehaerys, your aunt's tyranny has gone on for long enough.
Peace must return to the Seven Kingdoms, and the only way to do that is to remove Rhaenyra from the Iron Throne and replace her with you."
A collective "what" sounded from everyone except Lord Hightower, Daeron, and Alys. Prince Maelor was outraged by his uncle's treasonous words, and he was quick to tear into Aemond.
"You are already a kinslayer, uncle, and now you aspire to be both a traitor and a kingmaker?! How could you think that dethroning Aunt Rhaenyra is going to make things any better here in the Reach? What will make it all better is if you surrender yourself to her. Do that, and I, and I hope everyone else here, will not breathe a word about your treasonous scheme."
"Bootlicker..." mumbled Ser Cyril Hightower with disdain. Maelor heard what Cyril had said, and he glared at the man with burning purple eyes.
"No, loyal!" growled the prince.
Daeron looked around the room, and he could feel the tension growing in the room. Tempers were flaring, and he could see his brother starting to turn red from their nephew's outburst. Mediation was desperately needed, and Daeron took it upon himself to try and conciliate everyone.
"My lords, please!" the prince began. All eyes fell upon Daeron, and he continued speaking. "Let us not lose our tempers here. There is more to wanting my half-sister off the Iron Throne and my nephew crowned king than the fact we believe that Gaemon was a victim of kinslaying."
"What more is there, your grace?" asked Lord Tyrell. Before Daeron could answer, Aemond spoke.
"What's more is that regardless of whether or not I turn myself in," Aemond shot an angry glare at Maelor, who bristled at his uncle's anger, but still held his head up high, "nothing will ever be the same between the Blacks and Greens again. Rhaenyra will always be suspicious of the Green Targaryen's. My sister's family will become hostages in all but name at the Red Keep again, and mine and my brother's family will probably be spied on here in Oldtown by Ghost's minions. Not only that, but that old whore will probably decide to do away with us, especially the men, one by one so that her descendants won't have any competition on the ladder of succession."
"Preposterous!" Maelor all but shouted. The lords did not share Maelor's outrage, and they began interjecting with their own ideas on how Rhaenyra might do away with her father and stepmother's bloodline.
"A convenient "hunting accident" in the Kingswood," mused Lord Florent.
"Or a nasty fall down a flight of stairs," said Lord Costayne.
"Or falling off a balcony," added Lord Ashford.
"Sabotaging a pleasure barge so that it sinks in Blackwater Bay," grumbled a bitter Lord Tyrell at the memory of his destroyed river barges.
"Poison," uttered Lord Hightower, earning him another eyeroll from Maester Ulrich.
"More hostages being taken," Lord Bulwer suggested. "And who is to say that Queen Rhaenyra won't have our captive relatives spirited away to King's Landing instead of returning them home to us? They will be at her mercy there at the royal court."
Lord Tyrell then had an idea. He faced his father-in-law and said, "Daeron. What if your half-sister plans to take Vaella hostage, too? Maybe even your lady wife? What better way to ensure that you "behave" than taking both your youngest daughter and your pregnant wife away and keeping them at the Red Keep?" The Lord of Highgarden's eyes darkened, and his was low when he spoke again.
"If Lady Bethany were to give birth at the Red Keep, do you think Rhaenyra would harm the child if it were a boy?"
"Lyonel!" said the man's uncle with reproof. Daeron clenched his fists and furrowed his brow.
"His lordship does make a point," spoke Ser Gwayne Hightower. "My sister's descendants will always have swords dangling over their heads for as long as Rhaenyra remains on the Iron Throne." Gwayne then turned his attention to his grandnephew, his late sister's eldest (trueborn) grandchild, Jaehaerys. He walked over to Jaehaerys and laid a fatherly hand on the man's shoulder. "Jaehaerys, think of your wife and children."
The prince looked up at his granduncle. He said nothing, and his expression was blank.
"Your aunt may send Aegon up to the Wall when he is old enough to remove him from the line of succession. Aeva could be made to join a motherhouse or the silent sisters. Your two children by your paramour could be made to disappear."
"Disappear?" Jaehaerys asked. "How so?"
Gwayne shrugged. "Exiling them to Essos. Taking the black. Promised to the Faith or the Citadel. Any or. What happened to your half-siblings, Jaehaerys?"
Jaehaerys thought for a moment before answering.
"My older half-sister is a septa, I believe. As for my older half-brother, he disappeared. The fate of my father's youngest bastard is anyone's guess."
Gwayne nodded silently. Jaehaerys's answer added credence to Ser Gwayne's suggestion that Rhaenyra might make her family's rivals "disappear" to get them out of the way. It was very distressing to think about.
"None of this would be happening if your father had inherited the Iron Throne instead of your aunt," Aemond interjected bitterly. "Mother would still be alive. Jaehaera would be your queen, Jaehaerys, and Aegon your Prince of Dragonstone. Your mother would be a proud dowager queen while our spoiled bitch of a half-sister would still be a princess rotting away at Dragonstone with her family. This could have happened if your damn grandfather had more common sense."
"We could be living in peace now instead of in discord," added Lord Florent.
All was quiet again as Jaehaerys took this all in. This was madness, pure madness! But still he considered every point that had been made by his kinsmen and the noblemen. This was treacherous, yes, but Uncle Aemond was right, nothing would ever be the same between the Blacks and Greens ever again. Rhaenyra may be tempted to rid herself and her family of her half-siblings and their families, especially the male Green Targaryen's.
Everyone Jaehaerys knew and loved would be at risk. Well, except his younger brother Maelor. Being the queen's son-in-law would afford him some special treatment, and it was clear that Maelor was loyal to Rhaenyra despite the rumors of her poisoning his nephew. The faces of Jaehaerys's remaining children flashed in his mind, and his heart ached at the thought of them ever being harmed. His mother, sister-wife, and mistress could possibly die of heartbreak if anything terrible were to befall Aegon, Aeva, and twins Maegon and Maegelle.
Aemond was right, peace had to return to the Seven Kingdoms. Not only that, but Jaehaerys wanted his family to be safe. And if that peace and safety could only be obtained through deposing his half-aunt, Queen Rhaenyra I Targaryen, and being crowned as King Jaehaerys II Targaryen, then so be it. The prince made up his mind. He stood up from his chair and addressed everyone with a clear, strong voice.
"My lords and lady, after much consideration, I have reached a decision. In due part from what I have heard tonight, I have decided to pursue my claim to the Iron Throne." Maelor's jaw dropped as excited murmuring hummed in the solar. Aemond and Daeron smiled proudly at their oldest nephew as he carried on. "This tyranny has gone long enough, and there is no guarantee that it will not end even after my uncle is captured."
Jaehaerys looked at all those assembled.
"Will you all help me in taking the Iron Throne from my aunt?"
A series of "yeses" sounded. Maelor sputtered angrily like bacon fat in a hot pan.
"Traitors! You are all traitors! Jaehaerys, you cannot do this! Rhaenyra has been good to us! How could you do this to her!"
Aemond, who had had enough of his youngest nephew, sauntered over towards Maelor with furious steps. He struggled briefly with Maelor once he reached him before delivering a hard punch to his nephew's stomach. The punch knocked the wind out of Maelor, and the young man fell to his knees gasping for breath and clutching his stomach. Lord Hightower cast a condescending glance at Maelor as he rose from his chair.
"My lords and lady, let us make our alliance official by swearing oaths to our king, Jaehaerys the Second of His Name. Promise your loyalty and swords to him."
One by one, Alys and the lords and princes in the room, except for the stunned Maelor, of course, stood up from the table and surrounded Jaehaerys. They bent the knee to the prince and swore oaths to him. It was a surreal moment. It was like being in a dream. And that night, after all the oaths were sworn to the pretender, a plot was concocted on how to fulfill the dream of kinghood that had once been nurtured by Jaehaerys's grandmother and great-grandfather so many decades ago.
Unbeknownst to the plotters, however, the tenth moon of 150 AC would see one more horrible death before its end. A death that would set all of Westeros on the path of no return towards a long-delayed destiny...
The plot thickens! Jaehaerys has now taken up the Greens' long dormant cause of putting the bloodline of the Young King's eldest living son on the Iron Throne. How does he intend to dethrone his aunt? How will he gain more supporters to his cause? Who is next to die by the end of the tenth moon of 150 AC? The answers to those questions will be found in Chapter 41: Valar Morghulis, so stay tuned!
I really hope to get that one in by New Year's Eve 2021, but we shall see. If not, I wish you all a Happy New Year!