Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age or A Song of Ice and Fire
Game of Dragons
After the Iron born rebellion
Fausten rode one of his horses to the hill, just on the border of the Meadow, where the tree, their tree stood. He climbed off the horse, and lowered his hood when he was underneath the withering branches. Yet still the tree stood, it wasn't ready to topple yet, the bark was breaking, leaking sap. Insects crawled out of it, and birds never made their nests there. It was a crumbling relic, and perhaps lingered because one more part of that age still remained. Despite the protests of King Robert, Aerys was given a place in the crypts of the Sept of Baelor, he was a king after all despite his madness. Arryn had been wise to convince Robert to honour that tradition, it would give Fausten one more excuse to hate the man. He respected certain things about him, and it took a lot for Fausten to show his contempt for a person. Even if you didn't like someone, you could still treat them with respect.
'The problem with respect is that some people think it must be earned, like some sort of currency, must respect be more than simply treating someone courteously, and with compassion sometimes? No, it is trust, and loyalty that must be earned!'
"You had my respect Aerys, but not my trust, even though I knew I had yours," Fausten said as he sat, holding the bottle of wine between his legs.
This was the only tribute that Fausten could actively visit. It would look too suspicious for the lord of the Meadow, or some hooded hermit to visit the tomb of kings. Fausten was confident that he had Robert's respect and admiration, but he wasn't going to take certain risks, not with the birds of Varys lingering. No birds nested at this old tree after all. It wasn't just a tribute to Aerys and the times they had spent there, but to Elia Martell and her children Rhaenys and Aegon. Rhaenys, a innocent girl whom Fausten dreamed one of his grand children would marry, stabbed to death by a thug. Aegon, a babe with so much ahead of him, incapable of making a word or negative thought against anyone, smashed against a wall by a monster. And that same monster raped poor Elia, caked in the blood of her own children, before crushing her skull.
"It felt good, really, really, really good when I killed him. I don't enjoy killing, but killing the right people, that I do enjoy and Gregor Clegane was not doubt the right kind of person to kill. I enjoyed knocking his head off, enjoyed burning his fucking heart out. Death by the blade, and by fire, somewhat ironic considering what he did to his brother, Sandor's apparently quite a good lord too...who knew?" Fausten shrugged.
"As for the other guy, Amory Loch, well I hope the Martells gave him a punishment fitting the twenty stab wounds he gave Rhaenys. Still, beating the shit out of him, stuffing him into that box, listening to him try to claw his way out, listening to him beg, cry and scream for mercy, hearing him vomit and shit...I enjoyed putting the bastard through that pain. That makes me a madman doesn't it, or does it? I can't be a hero anymore, but can I be good? Oh Aerys!"
Fausten pulled his head back, tears welling in his eyes.
"I built a home in the Meadow, built a home for my grand children but, one is so far away. It is foolish of me to hope that he can join us. Yet still, I built a home for my family, for my daughter and her children, for the friends I made. He journeyed across sands and free cities, saving many, but my son, my boy, the greatest gift my wife ever gave me is dead. He did what I could not, he became a hero, and they killed him for it," he said.
"Baratheon men, Lannister men, Stark men, they killed him, and Stannis, Tywin, Robert, they treated him like a criminal, as if he had committed some great dishonour. I fought with them, and it felt good, good to work with Tywin on tactics, to fight alongside Robert on the fields. If we work together, I know we can make this country a better place. Yet...Tywin, I cannot cast aside my animosity with the man and for what he had his monsters do to Elia's children. And Robert...he's gotten fat, he lays with other women, and deludes himself into thinking that Lyanna Stark would have loved him, the truth is, before the crown he was always a lustful, lecherous pig, he would have gotten fatter in time if he did marry Lyanna. He smiled when the bodies of children were laid at his feet, oh Aerys, keeping my disgust of him contained was one of the hardest things I've ever done."
"And Stark..." he whispered, gritting his teeth together. "He knows what his friend is, he knows, and he's locked himself away from it all. Your grandson Aerys, he's letting the boy live as a bastard, with all the hatred that bastards are treated with. A prince, yet the greatest aspiration he will have, his inevitable fate will be to join the FUCKING NIGHTS WATCH!"
He ran his hand over the tree and sighed.
"Every night I dream of what could have been, if only I had made different choices, I told myself that I wouldn't play the game, that I wouldn't even entertain the power grubbing deceptions of the nobility, that I would be better. But I'm not better, I am a hypocrite Aerys, my son is dead because of them, because this is the world they created."
He stood, eyes blood shot from the tears.
"It is not the Amell way to seek revenge, what we should seek is absolution," he squeezed his hand into a fist, drawing blood from his hand. "But I will take revenge!"
The Phoenix and the Griffin
Chapter 10: Death of the dragons
It was a simple swish of the sword, and Viserys closed his eyes for a moment. But when he opened them, Fausten Amell stood in front of him, holding the sword loosely by the blade, offering the hilt to him. Fausten moved his hands away as Viserys took hold of the sword with both hands. It felt light, lighter than any Westerosi or Essos forged blade. Viserys eyed the man cautiously as he sat at the table again, removing a skin of wine from his coat.
"Dornish red, a gift from Oberyn Martell, though not my favourite," Fausten took a swig before throwing it to Daenerys. "It's not poisoned, not my way!"
"You said you were here to kill us, yet why haven't you done it yet, and why give me your sword?" Viserys demanded.
"I'm in no hurry, the girl giving the Magister (Tevinter would be insulted) the time of his life will keep him occupied for a very long time. As for the sword, your hands are shaking, you have extremely thin arms, in short you're weak prince and I'm a veteran of many battles, even at my age I could kill you with my bare hands," Fausten explained.
"And will you, kill us with your bare hands, as your allies killed our nieces and nephews?" Daenerys asked, and even Viserys was surprised by the courage in her voice.
"I did not want that for the children, they were innocents and I grieved for them," Fausten said.
"As you grieved for our father?" Viserys asked.
Fausten nodded his head and rubbed his eyes.
"Your father was dead, at least in my mind when he burnt a man alive, thus triggering a war that consumed his country. That monster that sat on the throne was not him, I grieved for your father long before Jamie Lannister drove his sword through that creature's back," Fausten explained.
"The Starks defied the dragon," Viserys snarled.
"Imprisoning Brandon Stark would have been enough, demanding an apology from his father for his zealous son's breach of etiquette would have been enough, and having Rhaegar explain his actions would have been enough, I doubt the wolves would have sided with the stag once Lyanna explained to them just how much he disgusted her, instead, the dragon burned a man alive and choked another to death. The realm suffered!"
"And the realm still suffers," Daenerys said.
"Is that what Mopatis is telling you?" Fausten asked. "Let me guess, he tells you that the lords of Westeros plot the return of the dragons, that their wives secretly knit Targaryen banners, that the people are crying out for the usurper to be cast out from the iron throne and the rightful kings and queens of Westeros to be returned to it? Well that's good to get you to trust him, to offer him a seat at the table, to get you to drop your guard, but here is the reality you two.
"The lords and ladies of Westeros plot, against each other, they won't openly defy the king, only the Greyjoys were stupid enough to rebel and they failed, badly. And the people, the Targaryens are just another set of nobles to them, nobles who are going to make them build their monuments and fight their wars, they are in no rush to see you come back and challenge a king whom though is lecherous and lazy, has no desire to burn the cities they live in.
"As for Mopatis well, he has his own agenda just like every other lord of Westeros. If you were to comeback, the Tyrells would kneel in a heartbeat and steadily leech their way into your good graces, that is if you have a stronger army. The Martells would probably join you, they hate the Lannisters and the Baratheons enough certainly, Arryn would fight for the crown, the Baratheon crown, but in the event he dies the lords of the Vale will lock themselves in the Eyrie and wait the war out. The Lannisters would fight, or try to find some way to trick you or appease you, because Tywin Lannister is willing to do whatever it takes to protect his legacy, and he's not stupid enough to think you'll forgive him for all he's done.
"Of course the Baratheons will fight, Robert hates the dragons with a passion and Stannis will fight for his brother, Renly might be appeased, possibly, but he knows that if Robert falls he could always rally the Stormlands and possibly the Crownlands as the next king. Then there are the iron islands, and we left them shadows of their former selves, they can't fight anymore and I doubt the honourable lord Greyjoy will try to get involved with how bitter he is. And finally the Starks and the North, Eddard Stark will fight for his friend, and to keep the North safe. If Robert loses, he won't waste time on revenge, he'll slip into the North and the North itself will fight an invading army, they're better suited for defence in their environment anyway. But all of this is dependent only on your ability to win an army, which you lack Viserys, I can see the bitterness in your eyes, and selling your sister as a wife will only make you a pawn to whichever warlord she picks," Fausten explained.
The dose of reality was heavy for the two Targaryens. And for a moment, Viserys's anger faded and he looked like a child being lectured by his teacher. But he soon tightened his grip on the sword, pointing it at Fausten.
"What would you have us do then?" he asked.
"Personally I'd do away with all of it, nobles, kings, thrones," Fausten stood and Viserys backed away.
The Amell stretched his neck and huffed. Then he took a step towards the Targaryens.
King's Landing-Three days after
The King's council had been called, and finally, the king was present, sober and at attention. Robert though sat patiently beside Arryn, as the other council members arrived and took their seats.
"Varys had reason to call this meeting your grace, there are matters we must discuss concerning the Meadow, but first and foremost, Varys received news regarding the Targaryens, Viserys and his sister Daenerys," Jon explained.
"Yes, yes, get to it, tell us spider, where are they?" Robert demanded.
"My birds reported to me that they recently came under the care of a former sell sword turned Magister of Pentos, Illyrio Mopatis," Varys said.
"I've heard of him, apparently his fortune and reputation was owed purely to him marrying a cousin of the prince of Pentos," Baelish said.
"Mopatis probably has some influence, enough to use Viserys's name for his ambitions," Renly suggested.
"This conjecture gets us nowhere, what news from Pentos?" Stannis asked.
Varys paused for a moment, looking at each of the lords before he spoke.
"Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen are dead!"
High Garden
Dayk awoke to the smell of roses. And as he regained consciousness, he felt Margaery's fingers rub his chest. She crawled through the covers, pushing Dayk's arm onto the bed and pinning him there, her hair dangling over his face as she smirked.
"I saw you eying my cousins and hand maidens last night," she said.
"And did it make you jealous?" Dayk asked, smirking back.
"Hardly, although," she released his arms and drew circles over his chest, putting a pleading tone into her voice. "I could tell my father the truth, that I am another victim of Dayk Amell's lust, he wooed me with his poetic words and handsome body father, oh the shame I have brought our family," she tilted her head back, wiping fake tears from her eyes. "But all the time he has been seducing other women within our own home!"
"I'm not seducing other women, I'm observing them," Dayk said.
"Oh, is that what it's called now?" Margaery asked.
"If you really must know, I'm looking for a wife," Dayk said.
"Dayk Amell settling down, that would be a thing to see," the Tyrell heiress chuckled.
"Well, I am looking at a prospect now, but she sets her standards higher...a man like me couldn't possibly hope to make a woman like her happy."
"Oh Dayk," Margaery placed her hands on Dayk's chest again. "Happiness isn't enough, in our world, we can't afford to marry for love!"
"Yeah, I had that idea too, a man like me, a better person than her whom believes in ambition before love!" Dayk said, his eyes taking on a cold expression.
Margaery looked at the younger Amell for a moment before throwing her hand at him. He caught it, rolling over on the bed and pinning her arms against it.
"You say such horrid things some times," she spat.
"And you're not nearly as good as you try to convince everyone you are," he retorted.
"Yet still you love me!"
He leant his head down and she opened her mouth, their lips and tongues joining in a passionate kiss. Margaery freed her arms, throwing them around Dayk's neck as he ran his hands over her body. Suddenly, a knock came from the door and they separated.
"Margaery," Olenna's voice came through the door and Dayk quickly rolled out of bed.
"Just a moment grandmother," Margaery said.
She quickly put on her night dress, straightening out the creases that Dayk had made on her bed. There was a clicking of the lock, and the door opened, Margaery quickly turning to her grandmother. Olenna Redwyne Tyrell, queen of thorns. Well into her sixties, she had the appearance of an old woman whom hadn't aged well, having very little teeth, gaunt, thin fingers and walking with her cane. Though she didn't need it, there were times Margaery doubted Olenna needed to be flanked by her bodyguards, bulking identical twins Erryk and Arryk, Olenna always called them left and right.
"Here you are, your idiot father was wondering what you were doing, he and Luthor have already demolished most of breakfast," Olenna said, walking into the room and gradually straightening her back.
An act, always put on an act, never show your strength was Olenna's advice to Margaery. She took to the lessons well, both in courtly etiquette and in how to become the ideal woman for a man. Still, Margaery had her pride, and she would not give up the things she loved.
"Tell grandfather and father that I will be down shortly, I haven't long woken up grandmother," she said.
Olenna used her cane to shut the door behind them, leaving Erryk and Arryk behind. She prodded the bed with her cane and looked to Margaery.
"Do be a dear and move your bed for me girl, you know how my hips are," Olenna said.
"Grandmother?" Margaery looked at her in confusion.
"Oh you know I'm not foolish, now come, move it girl, or perhaps you'd be better off just crawling out from your hiding place Dayk Amell," Olenna smirked.
Margaery knelt by the bed, lifting the cover aside to reveal underneath it. Olenna took a few steps back and raised her eyebrows in confusion that mirrored Margaery's. Nothing, no body, not even small clothes.
"Oh boy, you are good," Olenna muttered.
"Dayk Amell was not here grandmother," Margaery said.
"Don't lie girl, I'm the one who taught you after all. Now come, sit, this isn't something I'd have you discuss with your father, and certainly not your mother," Olenna sat at the table furthest from the bed, before placing her hands on it though she looked from it, to Margaery.
"You didn't..." her voice drifted and Margaery rolled her eyes.
"I'm not confirming or denying anything mother," she said.
"Then you really haven't learned girl, you deny, deny with every fibre of your being, most noble men are fickle, the most powerful want the purest of women, virgins girl and sometimes they can tell. Dayk is the second son of an upstart family with a slab of land no one wanted. Now perhaps he does love you, but love can only get you so far," Olenna explained.
"But you married grandfather for love didn't you?" Margaery asked, taking a seat at the table.
"Love grew between us, he is a fat oaf your grandfather, but he's my fat oaf, can you say the same for Dayk Amell. Well, take the fat and oaf away, but can you really say he is yours?" Olenna asked.
"I, I do, enjoy his company and he is a good lover, who respects me but matches me too, he is not dismissive of me and he even challenges me," Margaery explained.
"It sounds to me girl like you have found an equal, someone you would have quite a happy marriage with. We have a good life here you know, it wouldn't be my first instinct to seek out that chair and city of shit. I was betrothed to a Targaryen, but I picked your grandfather and when I was done with him he picked me too. Your father and Renly scheme, but they are your tools in this aren't they girl?" Olenna smirked as Margaery graciously lowered her head. "A crown, a queen, you'd certainly have the capability of ruling even with a king beside you, a whisper in the ear during court and council, an opinion offered in the bed. If you succeed, all the good for the Tyrell family, but if you fail, all the bad for us and our family is my treasure child," Olenna explained, revealing a vulnerability that seemed to match her age.
"This is the game of thrones, if I don't play then our family will always remain simple lords of Highgarden, I want to be the queen grandmother, more than a man who loves and respects me," Margaery said.
Olenna shook her head, though still smiled.
"You have learnt your lessons well it seems. I will admit though that the Amells would be an impressive family to marry into. They're making quite the impact, the gossip of the breakfast hall. But there is a fundamental problem with standing out, with living to your ideals. When I was your age, I once saw a man by the name of Amell, Fausten Amell, the phoenix himself. Oh and he burned brightly, what a man he was," Olenna grinned and Margaery looked away in embarrassment. "He fought and worked on fields, spoke with both nobility and commoners, and both loved him, but he clashed with others when it came to his ideals. That's what led to that fool Damion Amell's death, living by his ideals, the very ideals that Fausten Amell no doubt drummed into each of his grandchildren. I am glad you have no plans to marry into their family, because the problem with a family that lives by ideals is that often they die for them."
"You believe that the Amells will fall?" Margaery asked.
"I believe it is inevitable my dear," Olenna said.
"I feel the same way, I do respect them but, I would not support them if they were faced with great danger," Margaery said.
Olenna nodded her head in understanding and walked out of the room. Once the door was closed, Margaery hugged her arms, and then looked towards the window, hearing a noise. Dayk sat there, fully dressed, lowering his hood onto his head.
"Like I said, a better person than her," he whispered before jumping out.
Margaery rushed to the window, it was a sheer drop that would break a man's bones. But when she looked to the bottom, Dayk was simply walking away, rolling up some kind of rope in his hand. She ran her fingers across the ledge, looking at the Amell with the same lust in her eyes as she had the other night. He however kept walking, he had a tourney to organise after all.
Pentos-'the day the dragons died'
Fausten snatched his sword away from Viserys, making the boy fall to his knees. He grabbed Viserys by his hair and snarled at him.
"A dragon you are not, not even a snake with a quick and deadly strike, no, you're just a scared little boy hoping for a throne, taking his lack of success out on his little sister, I can see the bruises on her Viserys. Your mother would be ashamed of you," he explained.
Viserys had begun to blubber, holding up his hands in a pleading way. Daenerys's knees shook, and she backed herself against the wall.
"What did you know of our mother?" she asked.
"H-he lo-loved her," Viserys said.
He was trembling, and fell onto his back, looking up at Fausten with terror in his eyes. It was so different from what Daenerys saw from him, and she wondered if she looked like that whenever she 'woke the dragon' within Viserys. Fausten sighed and sat at the chair again, raising his hand to Daenerys. She flinched at first, closing her eyes, but when she opened them she saw the man was clearly waiting for her to give him something. The wine, she quickly put the skin in his hand and backed away.
"Rhaella," he whispered the name and smiled, taking a swig of the wine before throwing it at Viserys's chest.
"Before she married, she had apparently been in love with a knight, Bonifer something, we call him Baelor Butthole, he wore her favour at a joust but it of course didn't work. Anyway, she married your father as your grandfather had forced her to. Then the tragedy at Summerhall occurred, when I first met your father and mother. I carried him out of the flames, and she gave birth to your brother," Fausten explained.
"She told me about it, how you walked out of the fire carrying father. She said you were like a phoenix, the flames were your wings," Viserys said.
"She was delirious from having given birth, not that the title didn't spread, the phoenix they called me. I stayed in Westeros for a while, and saw both of your parents at their best. Not loving husband and wife, but loving brother and sister, two simple friends. Why would I need to be friends with a king or queen, you get all sorts of trouble for that. Aerys and I loved each other as brothers, and Rhaella and I tried the same thing, but, the more time we spent together, the more we..." Fausten raised his head, sniffed with his nose and then both Targaryens saw it, the tear of a man who had lost.
King's landing-'During the Reign of the dragon'
He was a young man, short black hair, a red shirt covering a chest that had yet to gain the scars that would one day coat his body. Standing in front of the doorway to the princess's chambers, he nervously knocked on it. When the door opened he was left silent, for there she stood. Her white hair flowed down to her back, her silk robe covered her elegant figure.
"Fausten," Rhaella whispered.
"May I come in princess?" he asked.
"Yes of course, please come inside," she said.
She closed the door behind him and walked to her table. There she poured two cups of wine. It would have been an insult to refuse her, so he took short sips as she sat down.
"What is it?" she asked.
"I'm sorry about your father," he said.
"He has taken ill, but this was always going to happen wasn't it, Aerys would be king and I would sit by his side as his queen. He tells me at night that he wants you to be his hand, or a kings guard, 'such a position would suit his gracious personality more', he said," she giggled slightly, drinking the wine in bigger gulps than he did.
Fausten set the cup on the table and shook his head.
"That isn't what I want, what I want, is to be a hero. A king's hand must always do what is best for the kingdom, a kings guard must give his life in protection of the king and his family. So I cannot be a hero, because a hero strives to save everyone. Yet Aerys would be king one day and he would command me to be something I cannot be, and I cannot refuse him," he explained.
"Would it be so bad, to give of yourself only for those you know, why must you try so hard for people you do not know?" Rhaella asked.
"Because that is what it means to be a hero, and I want that, to do something truly incredible, something worthwhile, I feel like it is my purpose," Fausten said.
Rhaella put her cup down and got off of the chair. She walked towards Fausten, moving her hand to his cheek.
"Let me command you, let me tell you to stay, to stay here in Westeros, with your friend and with me," she said.
"Rhaella," Fausten whispered.
"Stay with me, be happy with me, be a hand of the king, or a guard, be with me," Rhaella put her other hand on Fausten's chest and stepped closer to him.
"Do not take this a step further, do not do or say something you cannot take back," Fausten said.
"I love you Fausten," she stood on her toes and pushed her lips against his, wrapping her arms around his neck.
Fausten's hands shook, nearly touching the small of her back. Her lips felt perfect, gentle, he was no stranger to the kiss of either sex. This however was no meaningless pursuit, it felt blissful and good. It was taking every ounce of self control he had to not fully embrace her, to throw her onto the bed and make love to her. But he held himself back, gripping her shoulders and pulling her away.
"We cannot," he said.
Rhaella put her hand to her chest, a hurt expression crossing her face. Tears were nearly in her eyes, but she took hold of Fausten's hand, took hold of the hope that he would give in.
"Fausten please," she said.
"Rhaella, your brother...your husband, no matter the love I bear for him, he would never forgive me, nor would he forgive you," he explained.
Rhaella however touched Fausten's cheeks, seeing the pain in his eyes just as much as he could see her sadness. She moved her lips closer, only for him to tilt his head away.
"It would be treason, they would kill you and I would never forgive myself," he said.
"If I don't kiss you now, I might as well be dead," she said.
Fausten tried to pull away. He wasn't sure what, but something pushed him forward. At least, that was his excuse. When he gripped Rhaella's shoulders for support, their sincere eyes met, speaking more than words had for the past minute. He took hold of the small of her back and kissed her, Rhaella eagerly gripped the back of his head. They kissed for a few seconds before pulling away, Rhaella pulled Fausten's shirt over his head and he unfastened her robe. He took her into his arms, kissing her as he walked to the bed. Gently placing her down, he dipped his head down to meet hers, both removing one another's under clothes before they made love.
And love it was, the pair, gentle at first. Then when did it again they were consumed by the throes of passion. Coated in sweat, they smiled at one another, both lying on either side of the bed. She pulled his face to hers in another kiss. It was a long night, the longest of their lives and in the darkness they held one another. Purple eyes shined to meet blue ones, she caressed the scars on his back as he kissed her neck. Scars that she knew would grow worse one day. Neither spoke, and eventually she fell asleep with her back to him. He looked down at her and quivered with regret. Silently climbing out of bed, he dressed, one part of him hoping she would wake up.
'Wake up and command me to stay,' he thought.
Pentos
Daenerys and Viserys looked at the man after his confession, both nearly speechless. She expected her brother to react with anger, to curse Fausten despite his fear. Viserys had backed himself against the wall. But there was no fury or fear in his eyes, defeat Daenerys imagined, though she had not seen it before.
"She called to you once, when were at Dragon stone," he said. "Whenever we received news of your victories, she smiled, and then one day she had a nightmare, and she called out for you, not our father. She always tried to tell me that she loved our father, but I could see it in her eyes, she wanted you," Viserys explained.
He was crying at that point, reminding Daenerys of the days he would let himself be vulnerable with her. The young man pulled the cork off of the wine skin and tilted some of it down his throat. He wiped his eyes, then his mouth before he threw the skin back to Fausten.
"But still, father considered you his brother," Viserys said.
"Yes, when I was sailing back to Westeros with my family I imagined serving him in some way, standing beside him as he always wanted. But then Robert's rebellion, your father's madness, I lost a friend that day and I've been missing him ever since," Fausten explained.
"So how will you kill us?" Viserys asked.
"Fire, I figured that would be the most poetic thing!"
King's Landing
Robert was laughing, the council table shook as the king's belly rubbed against it. Stannis glared at his brother for his lack of etiquette, Renly recoiled in disgust, Arryn had the tired look of disappointment akin to a father with his child. Baelish seemed disinterested, but Varys could see his smirk as he lifted his cup to his lips. Pycelle too hid a look of delight under his beard. Varys remained stoic, he had just told the king how the Targaryens had died and it made him laugh.
'And I thought the man wasn't cruel, I feared Joffrey's rule, not his, still we all have men we hate,' the masters of whispers thought.
"Brilliant," Robert smacked the table. "Brilliant, 'Fire and blood', well now your bloods on fire, YES!" Robert yelled, shaking the table again.
"Your grace this is unbecoming of you," Stannis said, gritting his teeth as he spoke.
"And so what if it is, that bastard Rhaeger took the love of my life, raped and left her to die in the tower of joy, now that cursed blood line is gone forever, no more dragons, they truly are extinct now," Robert laughed.
He grabbed his wine cup and poured, and poured and poured.
"A toast, to the last of the dragons, they burned in life, now let them burn in seven hells with their father and brother," Robert raised his cup high.
Varys raised his cup with the others, only Stannis and Arryn didn't. It didn't anger Robert, he simply drank as he always did. Robert left there and then, and Arryn dissolved the council for the day, issues of the treasury and what happened in the Meadow no longer an issue. As Varys walked away he thought of the Targaryens, he had put his lot in with helping them discreetly. One bird would pass a message on to an assassin, whilst another would warn the Targaryens. He directed them to his old friend Mopatis. Now both they and the Magister were dead. Illyrio's death perplexed Varys, and he knew that there was some plot at work, and Robert's reaction confirmed his suspicions that the king had had no part in it.
Pentos
Illyrio Mopatis had just had the best sex of his life, and he knew the girl could offer more. He was sweating so much that the bed was coated. And Mopatis hadn't even intended to spend the whole night at the pleasure house. The bed groaned as he got out of bed, looking for his robe. He then looked to the dark haired woman at the end of the bed. Her pale skin had been a contrast to him, she had that muscular figure though he suspected she would still look womanly in a dress. Fastening the corset around her shoulder less black top, Mopatis noted the purple feathers hanging off of the sleeves near her shoulders. She couldn't have been from Tevinter, she lacked the skin tone. Wherever she was from, she had certainly made Illyrio's night magical.
"My dear, I simply must take you away from this whore house," he said.
"Oh I don't permanently work here," she smirked, putting on a pair of riding gloves.
There was a sudden clicking sound, followed by footsteps. Out of the darkness of the house came a man in a chainmail shirt, belt straps across his waist had two pouches on them. Steel guards covered his shoulders and leather gloves his hands. A ragged scarf around his neck also acted as a hood, and a sword was strapped to his back. He held in one of his hands an identical long sword.
"What is the meaning of this?" Illyrio demanded.
"Well done Laurien, grandfather will be pleased," the man pulled back his hood.
Mopatis widened his eyes in shock. He recognised the man nearly instantly.
"Damion Amell," he whispered.
He seemed to be the man's twin, except for the shocking silver hair on his head. Though he certainly seemed old enough to be Damion.
"You knew him I see, he was a smuggler before he died a hero after all," the man smirked.
He had the Amell eyes, it was impossible not to believe he was Damion.
"I am a bastard," he said.
"A bastard, impossible, Fausten was a clean man, he fathered no bastards," Mopatis said.
"There was one, at least one worth speaking of, he was my father," the man said.
"But Fausten Amell is dead, what quarrel would you have with me?" Mopatis asked.
"The prince and princess in your custody, that is our interest, the interest of James Marcher and his army. My name is Aeron Marcher, my companion Laurien and I act on his behalf, in fulfilling his ambition, and unfortunately Magister, you are an obstacle to that ambition," the man explained.
"Wait," Illyrio raised his hands. "I have gold, a lot of gold, whatever you are being paid I will double it, triple it even."
"You are going to die here Illyrio, you have two choices," Laurien said.
Aeron reached into his pouch, pulling out a vial. Then he threw the sword at Illyrio's feet.
"Peacefully with this," Aeron waved the vial around. "Or with a little pride, you were a sell sword once, apparently muscle memory can last a long time. Though you don't have a lot of muscle left," he added.
Illyrio looked at the no doubt poison filled vial, and then at the sword at his feet. Then he looked into the eyes of both his assailants. Really, he chided himself, he should have seen it sooner in the woman. He knew the eyes of killers, he had fought alongside, under and even broken bread with killers. Cut throats whom did deplorable things to claim the name 'nobility'. The people who had no chivalry within them, and committed murder to get things done. They were going to kill him, which left him only one choice. He sighed as he bent his knees, picking up the sword.
"I've not used a sword for years, please don't laugh," he said.
Aeron pulled the sword off of his back and smiled.
"Never, Illyrio Mopatis," he said.
It was quick, one could hardly call it a fight. Aeron and Laurien left the headless body so that Varys's birds could find it in the morning. Their hoods covering their heads, they moved through the streets to where their expected rendezvous would be.
"They're you," was what Fausten had said, when Illyrio's servants, no, his servants, dropped bodies at their feet. Daenerys asked whom they were, and Fausten told her that the man was a young soldier of his whom died in the desert. He was Viserys's height, if not his build. The other seemed much closer to looking like Daenerys. When asked where she came from, Fausten simply said she deserved to die and didn't elaborate. Under the cover of the night, the servants started the fire and Fausten, Viserys and Daenerys left.
But neither of them forgot Fausten's words.
"You will never retake the seven kingdoms as you are now, accept my help, my training and guidance, and I promise that if you cannot take Westeros, you will at least come to match your ancestor's legacy!"
Daenerys felt shocked that she was the first to speak, to say yes.
"It doesn't make what happened right," Viserys said.
"Then if by the end of this conquest, or any other point you believe I should be executed, then use what I have taught you, in the mean time listen and learn," Fausten, or James as they had to call him now said.
They came to an old barn, and waited. Neither Viserys or Daenerys were wearing the fine clothing they wore before.
"Get used to wearing rags, and to the itch of lice, you're going to need to understand the common folk as much as the nobility," he told them.
They waited through the night with no food, and it didn't take them long to finish the wine. As they waited, Daenerys curiously watched James sharpen his knife, occasionally mixing some kind of black substance in a tin. It was sticky and oozed between the spoon and the container. Viserys had a short rest before he awoke, scratching his neck as he looked at what James was making.
"What is that?" Viserys asked.
"This," James grinned, "Is what I'm going to put in your hair, after I've cut it!"
Viserys shook his head and laughed.
"You're not touching our hair," he said.
James laughed for a moment, then his face suddenly became serious. By the time the sun rose and James's contacts met them, Viserys and Daenerys walked out of the hut, both with short black hair. Aeron lifted his hood up, and both Targaryens looked at him with the same shock that Illyrio once had.
"This is Aeron Marcher, he's my eldest grandson," James said.
"How come he gets to keep his hair?" Viserys asked grudgingly.
"Because he's not going to be squiring for me," James turned to both Viserys and Daenerys. "I will help you take back your home, or make a new one, whichever one manages to make you feel complete. But you cannot, for now, go forward as Targaryens. For now you will be my squires, bastards Vincent and Danielle. I'm going to teach you both how to fight, how to lead armies, and how to govern lands. You both want to play the game of thrones, I can't guarantee you'll win, but I can teach you both how to not die!"
There path had been set, and the group rode away from Pentos, the world believing that the last of the dragons were finally dead. Daenerys rode close to James, looking at him, intrigued.
"You said once your dream was to be a hero, why could you not do it?" she asked him.
"I once wanted to be a hero, but I grew older and older and I found myself killing people more than saving them. Then I found love, and a family, a purpose. My son is dead, and now my daughter had inherited the purpose of guiding the next generation of Amells, or the ones that she can at least," James explained.
"What do you mean?"
"There is one in Thedas, my grandson, Daylen Amell, he has inherited my dream of being a hero!"
Daenerys saw the smile on James's face, not a smirk, but a genuine smile. In a far off land, a scarred, red eyed man took the next step on his journey. Whilst another with red eyes veiled by magic, continued on his path. One day, the dragons, griffins and chimeras would converge.
Next Chapter 11: A dream
Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter.