Aegon
The corpses lay draped before the Iron Throne; pale and lifeless. His eyes trailed over them. Lady Catelyn's face was an ugly purple color, while her bloodied breasts bore the marks of bruises, and teeth marks. She wore a ripped dress, and Aegon winced. It revealed what had been done to her. He saw his mother in her brutalized body. She fought too for her children with teeth and claws with more valor than a knight of the kingsguardA mother's battle that was fought in vain as the Stark boy's head was crushed like a melon. Did my mother and sister look like you? Did they scream the same screams and shed the same tears? He looked at their broken, defiled bodies for a long moment and imagined.
Aegon's hands balled into a fist.
Shall men compare him to those beasts? My victory is stained. A victory born of sacrifice and blood. Years of hardship by his dearest friends and mentors to see him delivered to his throne.
The usurper awarded butchers, but he was a better man. "Who did this?" He asked his council before him. Only a small gathering of his most trusted captains stood in attendance before him. Halls that could house hundreds only contained those that needed to be here. Captain Harry was spotless in his golden armor, stalwart Lord Jon, Uncle Oberyn's who looked elsewhere and the wretched creature Varys.
Only silence greeted him.
"My orders were clear!" Aegon yelled his cheeks flushed with anger. "You swore to me Varys you would see them captured unharmed. Is this what you consider unharmed?" He pinched the bridge of his nose, disgusted.
Of course, the eunuch fails me. He's always failed my family
"They were enemies sire." Captain Harry whispered.
Aegon glowered with a look that could skewer. "THEY WERE INOOCENT!" And the mans head bowed quickly. "No ser this was not justice." He whispered.
Varys sighed. "I did try, your grace." He clasped his hands together. "But Lord Stark squirreled them away before I could secure them. Lord Stark thought he sent them to safety, but he erred in his judgement. Fortunately, we have the only prize that matters. Eddard Stark is yours aswell as his sweet daughter." He never once looked at the corpses. Varys listed names of other lords and ladies in their captivity, but it was the ones he didn't mention that screamed.
"You do a neat trick where you forget to mention your failures. You still don't have Lord Edmure? Do you?"
"In time, I suspect he shall fall into my clutches." Varys replied. "My agents scour over the Kingswood as we speak. His company contains his wife and daughters. It'll prove an easy target."
"Or the Lannister boy?"
"Why, your grace, he was always going to die. Lord Tyrion would have seen to that." He always had a reasonable excuse.
Aegon smiled bitterly. "A calculating man." His voice dripped with contempt. "Your eyes never lose sight of the prize and the costs of your choices. Everything is perfectly balanced. I do believe you are the finest actor this realm has ever produced."
"What do you want me to say, Your Grace?"
I want you to look at them and weep. I wanted you to save my sister and my mother! Aegon wished to say, but held his tongue. His words would be wasted on that miserable, heartless creature.
"Your Grace." Jon warned.
"Nothing you shall ever understand, Varys." He turned his gaze. "Who did this Jon? Speak true."
"Two men of the Golden Company. Dick and Uyrick." And that surprised him. Men of the Golden Company were famous for their discipline. Only the Unsullied held a more spotless reputation. Men, he had supped with and exchanged barbs with around the campfire. How could these men have proven to be such brutes?
Captain Harry quickly dropped to his knees in his spotless armor. "I shall see them killed, Your Grace."
Uncle Oberyn's knuckles were snowy white around his bloodied spear. "If it pleases you, nephew. I shall happily carry out the sentence." A wicked glint flashed in his eyes, and his uncle would certainly make their ends long and arduous. His mastery of poison was unmatched, save perhaps by a faceless man. While in Sunspear among his Martell kin, he heard of how Lord Yronwood died and cousin Quentyn was sent to make amends. Tyene often mentioned with pride his cunning. I hope you make it long, uncle.
"They killed my glory." Aegon said. "See it done."
House Stark was always going to be his foe and doomed to be destroyed for their crimes and ties to House Baratheon, but this was unclean. Noble born deserved a more gentle end than this butchery.
"False men shall use this to weaken you. Besmirch your honorable name. They'll think you ordered this," Jon said.
They'll think me some dog like Tywin Lannister? Or the return of the Mad King.
The thought angered him. He nearly cut himself on the jagged blades of his throne, the throne of the Conqueror. "No one can know." Aegon agreed. "See them buried in a quiet field outside the city walls. Have Lemore offer them final rites. Seven Bless their innocent souls." They were in a better place, Aegon hoped. Fields of honey and rivers of wine without pain or fear.
Unlike myself. I rule a realm of deceit and lies.
"And what shall we say when asked about Lady Catelyn and her son?" Varys chimed.
Aegon narrowed his eyes. "Spread rumors they are alive and well. That is your craft and you'll do it well, my lord." Or else
Varys giggled. "I can certainly do so." And he was a disgusting creature, but useful. Aegon would never deny him that.
They quickly turned to other pressing matters. The city was theirs from Flea Bottom to the Red Keep. The Usurper's men had been captured or had thrown down their weapons and fled like rats fleeing the sinking ship. All seven gates flew the banner of his House; the three headed red dragon for the first time since the days of King Aerys II. Only the Sept of Baelor gave them a headache. "Some have sought refuge within the crystal halls. Our dear High Septon has refused to surrender those treacherous men," Varys said.
"A challenge." Jon darkened. "One that shouldn't be ignored. Now is not the time for half measures. You have no choice but to storm the sept and slay any who oppose you. The time for decency is over."
"How bold Conington!" Uncle Oberyn said, his eyes filled with quiet mockery. "Shall we place the High Septon's head on a spike aswell? Wouldn't want to be accused of half measures."
Jon reddened.
Oh Jon. The nightmare Jon survived at the Stony Sept plagued him and yet Aegon couldn't let his fear become his own.
"We could take it with little loss of life." Captain Harry swore. "I'll handpick the men involved."
Blood couldn't be spilled in a holy place. Aegon knew. As Jaehaerys the Conciliator had to contend with the legacy of Maegor, he would have to consider the legacy of the Mad King. Men would view his acts within the prism of his reign. Every act of unwaton brutality a sword for the enemies of his house to wield against him. Restraint and prudence needed to be utilized or they would turn on them.
"Their shall be no storming." Aegon declared.
"Your Grace, that would be a mistake." Jon warned. "Defiance needs to be ripped root and stem, or it shall grow into an incurable rot that'll plague your reign."
"We shall meet this challenge, but this doesn't require a hammer, Jon."
"What do you propose, Your grace?"
"I say for one we increase the guard outside the Sept of Baelor and remind his holiness that the justice of the Father flows from my hands. I am the protector of the realm and defender of Faith of the Seven. Yet, in my wisdom, I shall show patience. His holiness merely needs time to understand the new world he has woken up in." He smiled confident in his reading of the situation. "This is just posturing. He'll cave after some modest concessions. I'm sure you know what he wants, Varys."
Varys eyes remained cryptic. "I think we shall come to an understanding shortly."
"Lord Jon shall see it done." Aegon said.
The man he viewed as a father dipped his head dutifully and swore to see to it personally. Some minor matters were discussed, but the hour grew late and decisions on trials or pardons would have to be made once passions had cooled. Save that of Edric Dayne. His pardon was easy to sign despite the good friends he killed with Dawn. Aegon considered it a drop in the bucket to repay Lemore with the debt he owed her. Besides, I do need a Sword of the Morning in my court. Men still spoke of the famed knight Arthur as the epitome of chivalry and gallantry, and it would serve to have his nephew in the fold. If his father had the wits, the gods gave a patch of beats he may have brought Ser Arthur to the Trident instead of guarding his whore. Instead, he squandered the man's talents. I won't make that err. Aegon wandered from the Iron Throne, each step as strange as the last. It still felt a dream that he walked these halls at all. Everything seemed less grand than Jon's stories or Haldon's lessons. All of this and the only price was a river of blood. A price he had always known would be paid.
I'll make it count. I swear it.
His mother and sister shall finally be avenged. If only I could bring them back. But even kings did not command the Stranger.
The Red Keep was oddly silent as he climbed the steps and entered his chambers. Tapestries of hunts and ships hanging from the walls would be taken down soon enough, but for now he didn't care a lick. Aegon took off his boots and sunk into the cloud of silk and dared to rest his eyes. Seldom had he experienced such comfort in his life. When he lived amongst the fishermen, he lacked even a mat of straw. Every king should learn discomfort. It helps us connect with our people. Days spent as a sellswords son meant a humbler life. Only a bed in Magister Illyrio's manse compared to this.
I have the city.
I have my throne
It should be easy to sleep, but his heart only raced. Swords clashed as loud in memory as life and the screams echoed like thunder in his skull until he woke with a sheet of sweat clinging stubbornly to his brow. He wished to weep for them. Aegon preferred dreaming of beautiful maidens in septa robes or graceful noble women.
Will it ever be easier taking a life? Aegon wondered. Do I even wish it would get easier?
The door creaked open with a single flame illuminating Tyene's pretty face. She strolled forward with the perfect grace of a highborn woman. Her dainty hips rolled. The robes of a septa didn't hide anything from him. "I told dear Rolly you wished to pray." She giggled, her eyes stripping away his nightshirt. You wish her to comfort me, don't you, Rolly? Speaking to him about his misgivings had been a mistake. "And that it is all we should do."
"Liar. You wish to tear these robes off as you did in the Water Gardens or on the ship over. Or a few days ago." She smirked.
Aegon tried to keep his eyes above the neckline. "And those were mistakes. Youthful indiscretions I'm to have a queen." His voice lacked conviction.
Tyene's laugh was delightful. "Oh yes, the maimed maid of Highgarden. I don't see her here unless she's hiding underneath the bed." A playful smile formed. "Come out dear Margaery, let's share our king! Wouldn't that be something? Two women at once. Though you would have experience, wouldn't you, cousin?" She winked. He hardened at the thought as her arms wrapped around his neck. The memories of Arianne and Tyene kissing and grasping him burned bright as the stars. "A king should celebrate his victory."
He seized her seductive lips with a ravenous kiss that did little to satisfy his hunger, and he was hungry. Hungry for her soft flesh pressed against his body and the delightful sounds she made. Nothing ever clenched this thirst. "Aegon- Aegon- oh." she moaned as he kissed her neck and pinned her to the wall. He took one of her nipples into his mouth as she liked. Regret would come in the morning for the sin, but for now he enjoyed his conquest of flesh. In the morning, he would shove the moontea down her throat himself. No one shall call me Aegon the Unworthy.
The night slipped away from the both of them as they laid in a king's bed together. His seed coated over her belly. It was sinful, Aegon knew. Why the Seven made such beautiful creatures Aegon couldn't divine. I'd have made every woman as ugly as the crone.
"See," Tyene purred. "I told you so. You loved it." She caressed his cheek. "as I love the feeling of you defiling me."
And sucked her finger, coated with his seed.
Aegon frowned. "I do enjoy you." He kissed her and deepened it. She whimpered satisfied. "But I know this to be unwise. A king should know better. The Tyrells-"
"A king should take what he wants. Few would bat an eye that a king has a mistress or two or three." She laughed. "I don't mind sharing." Tyene replied, sweet as honey. "I doubt the Tyrells shall be any different." And he could lie to himself and claim he'll fly straight as an arrow, but such was a lie. Aegon had tried prayer, sworn oaths, and still these lusts ruled him. Neither Lemore nor Jon had been able to aid him.
All kings must have some imperfection.
"I may seek your comfort from time to time." Aegon admitted. "But we shall sire no children."
Tyene pouted her lips. "You would deny me a single child? Are you so cruel, Aegon?" Her hand caressed his inner thigh. A gentle promise. Aegon snatched her hand.
"No children." He tightened his grip. "Don't try me, Tyene. Not on this."
"As you wish," Tyene huffed, annoyed. "I'll content myself with your royal person." And rested her head on his chest. "It is rather satisfying."
Aegon kissed her chastely on the brow. "I'll treat you tenderly, I swear, and shall always keep your concerns close to heart. We are bound by blood."
"Thats so sweet cousin." Tyene said. "But I prefer you wicked." She grinned.
And Aegon slept the night away easily.
Tyrion
A breast in one hand and a woman's mouth around his manhood, Tyrion could die now and be content. Not that I wish to die. Much remains to be done. Two of Chataya's finest creatures tended to him.
Aylya's skin, smooth and unblemished, resembled a pristine layer of freshly fallen snow, while Melony's dark complexion exuded a beguiling and exotic beauty. Every kiss and caress made him hard and wanted. It was almost love."Sweetling, please pass the Sweet Arbor." Tyrion asked.
Melony giggled. "Yes, milord." And stole a sip before giggling some more. Whores and the finest wine in the world. What more could a lecherous little imp want? Especially after years of such slim pickings in drudgy taverns or brothels. "I can sing to you, milord." Aylya claimed. Strangely, Tyrion thought of his first wife and felt hollow. It wasn't real fool. No woman would ever love him, save for the coin he provided for them. Only Jaime had ever truly cared for him and the brave fool was murdered protecting Cersei's spawn. You dumb dolt. Tyrion missed his big brother. Though he would probably throw him down a well for siding against his family.
The Rock is mine. I shall have it.
Then
why did he still feel guilty? The two girls shared a glance. "What shall we toast, milord? We simply must toast to something." They begged. It improved his disposition somewhat.
Tyrion knew at once what to toast. "To celebrate the life of my nephew Martyn Lannister!" He hoped to celebrate Aunt Genna and cousin Willem's life soon as well. If their were any gods, he'll get to strangle at least one of them and see the light leave their eyes. Will you be laughing then? Tyrion thought not. A devilish grin formed at the thought. Casterly Rock beckoned! 'Twas his birthright as the last remaining son of Tywin Lannister to reclaim what had been stolen by usurpers.
Lord Tywin would have sent Martyns body to them piece by piece and who was he to ignore the lessons of his sire?
You'll get his fingers soon…
The whores cheered. "To Martyn Lannister!"
Tyrion drank a large gulp down his throat. "My beloved cousin."
"My lord." His Rykker squire entered and blushed. His eyes quickly went to the floor. "The king sends for you." Ben Rykker looked a proper squire wearing his handsome silver boots and his wall of well combed curls. Once more Tyrion felt a high lord with a squire to shine his boots and an endless supply of coin to spend.
As per the king's command, his chambers were positioned closer to the king's, much to Varys' expressed disapproval, which only served to make the king value his counsel even more. Why do you support a king that loathes you so Varys? What madness has you under its thrall?
A Small Council seat would likely be his should he ask for it. Never the Handship which would fall to Lord Jon or that of Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. I lack the tall legs or broad shoulders. But that of coin or law, even that of ships should he design it. A pity he would have to decline. Tyrion thought. The Westerlands needed him in the Rock to establish his reign as liege lord. Doesn't mean I shouldn't have a creature on his Small Council. Yet another gift from noble Aegon Tyrion was quickly finding himself a beggar to him.
"Wouldn't wish to keep our noble king." Tyrion said.
"Please don't leave, milord." Melony begged with big wide eyes. She worries I may skirt her what she was promised.
"Worry not." Tyrion grinned. "My squire has need of your services. Ever been with a woman?"
"Both of them?" He stammered. It answered that question. Tyrion waved his hand. Melony seized him by his long sleeves and dragged his scarlet squire to Aylya's bosom.
"Take it easy on the boy. He's inexperienced." Tyrion winked and waddled out with the sound of giggling bombarding his ears.
It was a short walk to the king's chambers. Tyrion noted the six mullets on Lord Mallery's surcoat. His eyes refusing to leer down and acknowledge him as he waddled to the side. Oh I never forget a face ser. His lordship was one of a sea of nobility who had bent the knee and proclaimed Aegon king. All the Crownlands had come to do homage, save that of the Narrow Sea Lords who sailed and fought with Lord Stannis. Respect and loyalty for House Targaryen ran deep in these families, and these houses were never reconciled to Robert. Especially since they feel misplaced by Baratheon loyalists from Arryn, Stark, and Tully domains.
Ser Pate greeted him with a stiff nod. He wore the snowy cloak of the kingsguard with pride. Two spots of the kingsguard have been filled from the Golden Company leaving five cloaks unworn. Who else would wear the white Tyrion wondered? The Martells will demand a champion and no doubt the Tyrells as well. Is that why you have sent for me Aegon? Or do you wish simply a companion to drink with and exchange bawdy stories? Have you grown bored of Lady Tyene? You always did enjoy finer wines to common ale.
Tyrion was ushered inside.
Aegon looked every inch a conqueror as he sat by the hearth with a golden crown on his brow. It balanced perfectly on his head. Broad shouldered with a strong chest as thick as Jaime's. He looked as Aegon the Conqueror must have. "Ah, Tyrion." He said cheerfully and grasped his hand. "Hope I didn't interrupt anything?"
"Of course not, Your Grace." Tyrion smiled. "How may my little self serve you?" His eyes twinkled.
"Tis what I wish to do for my Warden of the West." Aegon said. " What would you think of Lady Sansa as the next Lady of Casterly Rock?" The offer took him aback. Beautiful Sansa Stark had many admirers of court. For good reason. Long smooth legs and high cheekbones with breasts women desired for their own. If her mother and brother were alive, he may have agreed. Love shall never grow between us.
"She certainly has nice teats." Tyrion admitted. "But I'd rather my lady wife loves me."
Aegon nodded with understanding. "Tis very wise of you my friend. You decided rightly, I think."
"Oh yes, I am a fount of wisdom and wine." Both shared a chuckle. Though if Lady Sansa wouldn't wed him, then it beckoned who? Lord Conington mayhaps? Or the Martells? Lord Quentyn was eligible.
Aegon doesn't know himself.
Tyrion could taste the opportunity here.
"May I make a suggestion?" Tyrion asked. He watched him give it with a bob of his head. "You've made Captain John Mudd Lord of Harrenhal." One of many Golden Company exiles who held claims to the lands of Westeros. Of course many of them claimed lands in the Reach whose lords had declared for Aegon which proved a contentious issue that needed to be handled delicately less a split emerge in their ranks. Lands needed to be found, and Aegon vowed to find them amongst traitors. Aegon seemed determined to try to satisfy them out of honor and pragmatism. Harrenhal was easy, as it was ruled by Lord Edmure Tully since the death of Lady Whent. "He has a strapping young son. And Lady Sansa has Whent blood through her mother, Lady Catelyn. It would strengthen his claim to wed them together."
And I'll make sure he knows who to thank for it.
The Lord of Harrenhal knew the benefits of having the alliance of Casterly Rock.
"Tis true." Aegon admitted. "I shall have to give it some more thought. We are in no rush." He clasped his hands together. "Besides, marriage was not the only thing I wished from you."
"What else, sire?"
"Tell me of what you recall of your nephew? The bastard king." Tommen? He stilled.
"I fear I will be little help." Tyrion said. "Last I saw Prince Tommen, he was a pudgy boy who liked cats and books." He struggled, imagining him as some tall knight who slew grown men with a valyrian steel sword. Do you look like Jaime? Tyrion wondered, a tad guilty.
"A pudgy boy?" Aegon asked, amused.
"His time to the Eyrie must have changed him. Why do you care?"
"Do you know he wields Dark Sister?" Aegon patted his scabbard. "Blackfyre the sword of kings is mine, but Dark Sister is no less glorious. He is a thief aswell as a usurper."
Tyrion shrugged. "Kill him then and pry it from his fingers."
"Is that what you want? Your own nephew?" Aegon asked. Tyrion could hear the eunuch in his voice and feel the rope tightening around his neck.
"Why bring this up? You know where I stand." He challenged. "The Rock is what I seek."
Aegon studied him for a moment, and he caught a glimpse of disappointment flickering in his kingly gaze. He raised his hands up. "Forgive me Tyrion. I didn't mean to imply anything. It's this war that concerns me and I scarcely know the foe I face." And yet you did. Are you listening to Varys? Or has Lord Jon turned against me? He misliked both possibilities. It could mean his head on a spike alongside Pycelle.
Tyrion offered a contrite smile. "A heavy burden a crown I understand, sire." He paused, bothered. "Why are you so certain you'll have to fight my nephew? The terms you offered were fair." House Arryn would retain her lands and titles if he surrendered his wards. The only punishment his heir, Rolland Arryn, would be taken hostage in the king's court. Yet given the likelihood of their victory was slim, certainly he would jump at the chance?
Aegon scoffed. "I knew he would never accept that. As High as Honor are the words of House Arryn. Andal honor culture would forbid it." Was he such a fool? Tyrion couldn't believe he would ride to death. Highgarden and Sunspear united together. The Riverlands lay divided and the Starks would not lift a finger as long as they had his father and was beset by Wildlings. Not even the Knights of the Vale could fight such a host.
He was agape. "The Starks-"
"Robb Stark will seek to rescue his father, as Eddard Stark did for his sister." Aegon cut him off.
"Nay, a long war stands before me. A long war indeed, but this first battle shall be key Tyrion." His voice tasted of desperation. "Unlike the usurper's son, my sire lost the only battle he fought in. The ghost of Rhaegar as well as Aerys haunts me." Lord Arryn was supposed to send Tommen to the Wall, not to his death. Jaime's ghost would certainly toss him down a well if he didn't try to do something for the boy. But he couldn't say anything less he condemn himself a traitor in Aegon's eyes. He's the only reason my head remains attached to my body.
"You took Kings Landing." Tyrion reminded.
"I defeated a rabble of goldcloaks. Tis not the same as pitch battle."
Aegon pressed forwards towards the balcony, his shoulder looked as if they bore the weight of mountains. Tyrion followed behind him. "Five hundred thousand souls live in this city. Carpenters, blacksmiths, galoers, servants, dock hands. More men shall die in this war than those call this city home. That-"He struggled to find the words. "That is the truth. It's the price of my crown and I shall pay it. Some will hate me and shall curse me in their sleep, and I understand that. The pursuit of a crown is selfish. We kings are selfish men. Yet my family made this realm." Aegon argued. "Aegon the Conqueror made seven kingdoms one. We made roads, laws, and delivered peace and true justice unseen in the days of petty kings. The city of Kings Landing was born due to my family." He stiffened with pride. "And I shall not surrender it to lesser men. It is ours. Peace will only be born through pain and suffering. Stark, Arryns, Baratheons must be broken before their realms may be welcomed unto my peace." He gazed out towards the city of towers and hovels lost in despair. Tyrion found his misery strangely beautiful. He wished to weep.
"My brother once told me. Tyrion said. "You should drop the biggest man in the room and the rest will follow you meekly. Hit Lord Stannis hard, Your Grace, and no one will think of the Trident." And it'll give my nephew a fighting chance. Tyrion owed Jaime's children that much.
A long moment of silence stood between them as the king was seized with melancholy. Tyrion wondered if this is how Prince Rhaegar looked. King Aegon would loath the comparison.
"I wish to be alone, Tyrion."
"Are you certain you wouldn't wish some company?"
"Not this time, my friend. Not this time."
Tyrion returned to his room to sup alone the whores long since gone alongside his squire. He enjoyed another bite of his buttery bread when he heard the knock. "Enter." He said. Some entertainment could prove welcome and his curiosity got the better of him. A begging brother strolled in smelling of sweat and ale. His nostrils recoiled. I could have done without this.
"My lord." The man said, his voice caught his attention. "You've made yourself at home."
Tyrion squinted. "Varys? Is that you?"
The eunch giggled. "May I?" He gestured towards the chair. "It pleases me, my lord seeing you so carefree. I worried about you. You always looked so unhappy." The man was half a wizard with his disguises.
"Lord Varys, I'm touched. Some Arbor gold?"
"Only a cup."
Tyrion poured him his cup as he wondered why he was here. Does he seek to frighten me? Or something else that he failed to note. A game was being played between the two of them and he scarcely knew the rules. You want Aegon on the throne, but why? What do you gain from this?
"You must be wondering my purpose for this visit."
He feigned pain. "But my lord, we are such dear friends."
The eunuch only laughed. "I simply wish to keep you abreast of my investigation into solving the curious riddle of how Lord Stark became aware of our presence in the city. It was treason, I fear." His voice could cut.
"Oh?" Tyrion chimed. "Do tell. Let me guess, it was dear Septa Lemore." He grinned. "It's the pious ones you have to look out for."
Varys sighed. "Unfortunately, so many gold cloaks died in the fighting, and whatever note or words whispered have been lost in the fires that claimed the barracks." The gods might actually be good.
"Worry not Varys." Tyrion said. "I shall speak kindly on your behalf to Aegon. You've been failing him so much as of late." He leaned back in his chair. "I'd worry about your position as Master of Whispers."
Varys frowned.
Your mouth is going to get you killed, fool.
"I never said I didn't discover where it took place." He smiled. "A curious establishment. You've frequented it, in fact. The Maidens Tits." The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Varys was looking at him slyly.
Give anything away and you're dead.
Tyrion schooled his features. "If you truly believe me, guilty. I'd be dead." He yawned. "It's quite popular amongst the men of our company."
"Mayhaps I poisoned the Arbor Gold." Tyrion noted then Varys hadn't drunk a drop. His collar felt very tight and his throat dry as Dorne.
His temper flared. "I'm not amused, Varys by threats.."
"Relax my lord." Varys lifted his hands up. "As you say, I don't believe it's you."
Tyrion's eyes narrowed. "Then why suggest it?"
"I was curious how'd you react," Varys admitted. "As you say, I do think of you as a friend." He paused, his eyes twinkling with a calculating glint. "Or mayhaps an enemy." He laughed. "Both are the same to me."
Sansa
Grand Maester Pycelle's chains rattled as he was marched towards the Iron Throne for his trial; flanked by guardsman wearing the usurper's sigil. Sansa thought he looked like an overcooked raisin wrapped in robes. Pycelle looked around for friendly faces, but found precious few. It surprised Sansa how quickly everyone turned cloak. Ladies who tore their dresses to sit at her side scarcely looked at her. Even meek mice like Roslyn ignored her. Once she was the most powerful woman in the realm, and now they scorned her embrace.
I was to be a queen and now I'm nobody
Winter shall come to them for their treachery.
Robb would see to that.
Over the past several days, King Aegon and his councillors had overseen trials seeking to appear just and lawful. His Grace sat atop the Iron Throne, a towering monstrosity of swords, while his councilors occupied the seats on the dais beneath him. There was handsome Prince Oberyn of Dorne, Lord Conington, and Lord Tyrion Lannister.
The first day Lord Tyrion emerged, Sansa was aghast. Everyone said he was dead slain by his kin in Casterly Rock. Yet he waddled before them in the flesh like some ghost come to life. A blond beard crept around his chin, but she recognised his mismatched eyes from his visit to Winterfell a lifetime ago.
Witnesses were brought forward and testimonies bore witnessed by the royal court. His Grace offered pardons, ordered executions, and sent men to the Wall. Several rich plums in the forms of lands and titles were seized for his supporters. The king's herald trumpeted these announcements in the torchlit halls. "AEGON! AEGON!" His supporters cheered. Over a hundred knights had been made and half a dozen lords amongst his captains. A mummery of justice. Sansa thought bitterly.
Where is my mother? Rickon?
No one said anything, and it gnawed at her. Not even Lord Dayne who accepted King Aegon's pardon. He only looked at her with sadness before begging her leave. Coward Rickon worshiped you. Sansa wished to scream.
Only rumors reached her ears and none were good. Sansa dreamed of them alone and scared in the dark. Other nights she dreamed of them sleeping with maggots alongside Lady. It always made her sob. Am I being punished for my sins? Have the Gods truly forsaken House Stark? Was this her fault? Sansa wondered. I know the answer. She despaired. Princess Myrcella was never her foe. What a fool I've proved. Her enemy had always been Varys, who pulled her strings like some puppeteer.
It was his foul voice whispering in my ear…
Sansa thought of Lady and Martyn and a cold hand wrapped around her throat. Varys killed them so easily.
Those eyes…those terrible eyes.
Some days she scarce wanted to leave the covers, but Sansa was a Stark of Winterfell and would be brave. Lady was brave and so could she. Not all proved faithless. Many chose death or the Wall rather than serving the new king. Lord Nestor prominent among them. "You are no king of mine." He declared defiant. "Nor the son of a prince, but some pox faced whore and a clever twit." Blackfyre removed his head swiftly. The king remained calm and collected throughout the proceedings and always offered the choice between the Wall and death. Sansa imagined her father in his place and shuddered.
I won't be denied a fourth time. Sansa vowed. If she didn't advocate for him, then who would?
Before his imprisonment, his health had been frail, and she knew the dark cells weren't like to make him any better. Father needs to be kissed by sunlight and a clean bed to sleep in.
"Maester Pycelle, you are here bye accused of high treason to King Aerys the Second of His Name. How does the accused plea?" Lord Conington's strong voice echoed. Sunlight glistening off the pin of the Hand on his chest. It looked better on her father.
Grand Maester Pycelle tittered. "Innocent." He claimed. "I offered His Grace wise counsel as I have always offered counsel to House Targaryen as well as Baratheon. My oaths bound me to whomever holds the Iron Throne, and I must say this is most irregular." He wheezed. "Only the Conclave can remove me from my post."
The Lord Hand ignored him.
"And so the accused has pled. You shall hold your tongue as witnesses are called forth." And they called forth a sea of witnesses; attendants who had served for years, whores he had slept with, and self-named friends. By the end, he looked no more than a sycophant of Tywin Lannister. Most damming was when Varys read a letter detailing his conspiracy with Lord Tywin to open Kings Landing gates.
Pycelle's knuckles were as white as his wintery beard. "Lies!" He rose. "All lies! From a peddler of secrets and deceit."
"The accused shall mind his tongue or shall be gagged." Prince Oberyn said.
King Aegon cleared his throat. "I've heard enough, my lords." He thanked Varys and dismissed him. "Will you call anyone to speak on your behalf, Maester Pycelle?" The silence was deafening. "No? Very well, speak in your defense."
"Your Grace." Lord Tyrion interjected. "I have another inquiry I wish to make of the accused."
"Of what nature?"
"All shall be revealed." Lord Tyrion promised solemnly. The king nodded his consent. All eyes in the throne room watched the imp, and he seemed to relish the attention. "How long have you known of my brother, Jaime and Cersei?"
Grand Maester Pycelle blinked. "I don't follow my lord."
"Don't play coy with me," Lord Tyrion said. "How long have you known my brother and sister were fucking and left not a single heir for King Robert?" A pin dropping could have been heard as her tummy tied itself into knots. For a moment Sansa wondered if she heard him right. Prince Oberyn laughed and leaned in, giddy. King Aegon looked surprised, but Sansa thought it feigned.
"I…"He was speechless. "Why I never." His skin reddened. "Thats baseless. The queen with her own brother. A knight of the kingsguard."
"Often and with great passion, I assure you." Lord Tyrion grinned. "Jaime loved my sister. He made love with her everywhere. It's hard to keep track. He fucked her in the rookery, the sept, in the kingswood. And they never even extended me an offer." He sounded hurt. "I think they couldn't see me. I'm so little." Someone snigered, and then an avalanche of laughter followed. Lord Conington bellowed for order to be restored in the throne room. Guardsmen with thick spears slammed them onto the floors until the laugher subsided. "All three of my sister's beloved children are bastards ser." Lord Tyrion pressed on. "Tis why they have golden-haired and green eyes and every baseborn child of Robert Baratheon is black-haired and blue-eyed."
The Grand Maester scoffed. "Children often take after the mother, you malicious creature." His voice dripped with scorn. "You seek what doesn't belong to you. You shall never be Lord Tywins' heir."
"Me? Malicious?" Lord Tyrion laughed. "Isn't that the kettle calling the pot black?"
"Enough." The Lord Hand declared. "We are getting lost in the weeds."
And King Aegon nodded in agreement. "This is interesting." He admitted. "But let us stay focused on the task at hand to seek the truth of Maester Pycelles' guilt for his crimes. My family has waited long enough for justice to be done."
Sansa thought of Joffrey and his hair was as golden as the queen with green Lannister eyes, but she swore his nose was like King Roberts. An ugly thing like his wormy lips. All of this is theatre for fools and larks. Simple trickery and deception like their spymaster Varys. They sought to divide supporters of King Tommen and used the queen's own brother as their catspaw.
How cunning
But anyone with half a mind understood that Lord Tyrion sought his father's lands and King Tommen and Princess Myrcella, through their mother, held equal if greater claim to the Westerlands on account of his birth.
That evening, she returned to her quarters and strangers helped her dress with stubby and clumsy fingers. She thought unkindly. Varys servants. Her father's household had been driven out of the Red Keep. King Aegon refused to have the servants of traitors in his home. Sansa wore a confection in purple samite with a tight-laced bodice that bared her shoulders and the tops of her large breasts. Her red hair tumbled over her pale shoulders and down her back almost to her waist. She twirled infront of the mirror and smiled.
I'm the most beautiful woman in the realm.
And Sansa bit her lip. Too beautiful. She wished no misunderstanding between them. Her personal honor had to be upheld and settled for a more demure gown.
"As I've told you Lady Sansa. The king shall not see you." Ser Rolly said.
The loyal knight stood stalwart infront of the king's chambers with hard stony eyes. It was a dance they had done thrice already.
"I'm more than willing to wait ser," Sansa replied. "I have precious little to do and you are fine company ser." And offered a gentle smile that melted hearts, especially of backwood bumpkins.
Ser Rolly chuckled. "The king's loss is my gain, I suppose."
Sansa nodded. "Tell me more ser of your time in Sunspear. Tis enthralling. You sounded so brave, stung by a dozen scorpions."
He puffed his chest. "Well-
The king's voice, low and annoyed, cut through the door. "Let her in Rolly before you spill your guts." And Ser Rolly opened the door. He looked disappointed.
King Aegon wore a doublet of black velvet covered with red studs in the shape of dragons. Hidden behind him was a table of maps and letters with some plates of half eaten food. She only made out a single wax seal of a golden rose. His Grace was blessed with lively violet eyes a maiden could drown in.
I hope he chokes on his chicken bone.
Sansa curtsied. "Your Grace."
"Does this ritual of yours grow tiresome?" King Aegon asked.
"Have I upset you, Your Grace?"
The king studied her. "I'm merely curious."
She strolled towards him a storm of fabric and silk."Mercy." Her eyes teared. "Please, I speak as a loyal daughter for my father. His leg is poor from a riding accident and his health is frail. I fear he shall not long last in his cell."
Sansa noted a hint of pity in his violet eyes. "You speak graciously, Lady Sansa of House Stark." He admitted his voice was laced with silk. "But he refuses to acknowledge me as his king. I shall not treat a man gently when he refuses to acknowledge fact."
"Why care for the folly of a lord? You are king."
"You speak often of my kingship. A cynic would find that suspect."
"I speak only fact." Sansa said quickly. Too quickly. "Please." She begged. "I shall do anything."
King Aegon's eyes made her uncomfortable as he tilted her chin up. "You are most fair, my lady." Her skin pimpled with goose bumps and she went mute with horror. Before she could find her voice to protest, the king's face spasmed with hot rage and drew his hand back. It smacked her cheek and stung terribly. Sansa collapsed crying. She had never been struck before. Father would have their head if they dreamt it
"WHORE!" King Aegon declared and towered over her like a giant as she crawled backwards.
"Mercy." She spluttered, afraid. "I didn't..I didn't mean." The king was beyond reason and he grabbed a fist of her hair. No…no..this is not what I wanted. He dragged her across the hard floor. Ser Rolly appeared, then alarmed as she was flung towards him.
"I should have you stripped naked and marched to Baelor's Sept." The king's eyes burned. "Come back again and you fucking shall be."
Aegon
Are these my hands? He wondered, dazed.
I hit her with these hands?
Aegon studied them in disbelief. Why did I do it? His skin flushed red. She was a temptress. Why else wear that dress? He tried to absolve himself. Another Lyanna Stark. His father had been seduced by that harlot from the North peddling her wares. Sansa Stark was made from the same cloth. Yet the excuses rang hollow in his heart. Lady Sansa conducted herself within propriety, befitting a noble woman of gentle birth and offered him nothing. 'Twas he who acted not a king, but a callow boy.
She was only worried for her father.
Shame crawled up his throat.
Wars could be fought over such beauty. The bastard king would have been blessed to marry such a wonder. It dawned on him what had occurred. I wanted what I should not seek.
Will fear rule me? Fear of the flesh and weakness of the spirit?
Jon raised him better than striking maidens of noble birth.
Aegon adjusted the crown on his brow.
The honor of House Targaryen had to be upheld.
Alright, that was a fun chapter to write. Now I have to buckle down, man up and actually do those two Meereen chapters I've been punting for a while. I'll rip off that band aid next since I can't punt it off any longer. I will say when we do the Part 2 of Around Westeros chapter we shall see my main man Edmure Tully as a POV which I'm excited to write. As always feel free to join the Discord just to chat about asoiaf or fanfic in general. /U45htQbbQu
The chapter title was totally not inspired by me finally watching the extended editions of the LOTR films recently. Aegon is no Aragorn, but truly few can claim to be. He's simply perfect.(I've seen the theatrical versions several times, but never the extended cuts) And damn it's still such a beautiful trilogy of movies. I think I still enjoy the theatrical cuts more due to pacing, but the extended cuts are certainly a fun experience. Return of the King is certainly my favorite of the three though. From the "You bow to no one." Sequence, the charge of the Rohirim outside of Minas Tirith, Sam G carrying Frodo on his back. etc etc. Their are so many great and memorable scenes sprinkled throughout the entirety of the movie. To be fair thats all three of them, but I really enjoy endings to stories so I always enjoy Return of the King a bit more. It's the ending of the adventure and I always feel a sense of contentment and sadness when we get to the ending. You don't want it to stop, but you know it's a good and worthy end for what remains of the Fellowship.