Chapter 8: The Siege Begins

They weren't safe.

Not truly.

They had a thick wall placed between them and their foes now, but Dornishmen had still surrounded their holdfast. And those blades stilled aimed at the hearts of those Aegon held dear.

And so here he sat, within the Queen's Ballroom within the old holdfast, listening as his guardians discussed their situation.

"I've ordered an inventory to be taken of our supplies." Ser Arthur began. "We're not stocked for a siege, but fortunately a lesson was learned from the days of the Dragonbane."

"And how long can we expect to hold out?" Lord Darry asked. "We don't have many men, a few dozen hands. Even fewer fighters, but…" He trailed off sadly.

Aegon found himself thumbing at the fine wood of the table they were seated at.

Perhaps it was fortunate, in a way, that they were so undermanned.

"With this?" Ser Barristan grumbled, eyeing the list Arthur had drawn up. "A month, perhaps a little more if we stretch our rations."

The wood was fine, but not near so brilliant as the carved wood which adorned the walls of the hall. Great carvings depicting scenes of revelry from those peaceful days under Jaehaerys I's kind reign. Aegon couldn't find the cheer in those faces, perhaps he never would again.

"Our fresh produce will spoil, I'll set some men to the task of preserving what we can." Arthur said.

A single blemish marred the table's smooth finish, small notch had been cut into its face from some impact in times past.

"That's not long." Aegon spoke up. "Can we expect reinforcement from the city? The Goldcloaks, perhaps?"

"Ser Alliser is a leal man, I'd expect him to not stand for this." Ser Barristan's frown deepened. "But whether he'll learn and mount an attack in time?"

"No ravens were sent, no one made it past the gate?" Aegon pressed.

"We have little way of knowing that." Old Lord Darry answered, scratching a brow. "But the gates being shuttered will prompt some concern, no doubt."

Darry cleared his throat before continuing. "But I'm more worried about Ser Daemon staging an attack. They could have a couple hundred men out there, depending on who's part of this plot. Defending the holdfast with who we have could be… difficult."

"They'll pay a heavy price for it should Daemon seek to stain his cloak further."

"He is unworthy of the honor." Aegon said. "The cloak should not grace his shoulders."

"A Kingsguard serves for life, your Grace. Through good and bad. One leaves the order when they are dead." Ser Arthur gave Aegon a heavy look.

Aegon understood what he meant. Yet he found that, perhaps, that was expected. Such violence could not go unanswered.

"We have few enough arrows and crossbow bolts." Darry continued on. "I'll have the men collect the stonework, Walys can organize that well enough."

"The stonework?" Aegon asked.

"A brick to the head can often do more harm than an arrow." Darry said casually. "And they'll be easier to come across. But I have a greater concern we should deal with."

"And that is?" Ser Barristan asked.

"A number of the staff hail from Dorne." Darry said.

"I hail from Dorne." Arthur said briskly.

"And your loyalty is beyond reproach, of course. But how have these servants proven themselves?"

"They are most all Queen Elia's retainers." Ser Barristan said.

"And the Queen is gone. Their loyalty to her, to any extent it may have been, can't be taken for granted now."

"My mother chose them." Aegon could not help himself. "You mean to say she would have chosen poorly?"

"She chose Ser Daemon." Darry said simply. "He made a name for himself as King Rhaegar turned about and cut through Lord Arryn's flank on the Trident, and the Jordaynes were close vassals of Queen Elia's brother. But skill in battle and family relations did not stop Daemon from this treason. Should a number of the staff with similar inclinations decide it would be safer with their fellow Dornishmen, they could attempt to seize the gate, a moment would be all Daemon would need to put a dozen soldiers in the holdfast. And then we'd be undone."

"They shan't be harmed!" Aegon stood fast. Did he really mean to? Maybe it was foolish, but still… "They are my mother's people."

And how loyal would anyone else have been? Would the Westermen within these halls have stood fast with Aegon, had Tywin Lannister ordered him seized instead? How far could such a conspiracy have spread, and how many might jump at such a plot? The thread of suspicion could wind its way through Aegon's home, his family.

It made Aegon think of his grandfather. Of what Ser Oswell had said.

'Never one to let go of a perceived enemy.'

"Those who seek shelter here are under my protection." Aegon said firmly. "If they no longer wish it, then they may leave. I do not expect Daemon to hurt them, should we release them into his custody. And I will not make a man a prisoner nor do them harm without cause."

Darry did not look too pleased with Aegon's decision. He glanced to Ser Barristan, then to Arthur, and finding no assistance finally nodded his assent. "As you say, your Grace."

"Then let us move on to the next issue." Ser Arthur said, sending Darry a sharp look. "We can't expect to hold out forever, and Daemon may well have half the Small Council in his custody. We need to get word out of the castle."

Ser Barristan agreed. "If we can slip a man out of the castle, inform Ser Alliser and the Goldcloaks of what has happened –"

"And if the roots of this conspiracy are deeper?" Darry interrupted. "If Lord Vaith has joined Daemon in this, who's to say the Goldcloaks will rise to assist us? Gargalen and Vaith could have another thousand Dornishmen coming to join them. And begging your pardon, your Grace, but if Prince Doran is behind this –"

"That's enough, Willem!" Ser Arthur all but shouted.

The air was growing thick with tension. An accusation against the king's own uncle, the ruling Prince of Dorne, was no small matter.

"Perhaps the rookery." Aegon piped up, hoping to divert them. "Write a message to a trusted lord, Rosby, or Rykker."

"They could gather another few thousand swords. And any wider conspiracy may be stopped in its tracks." Ser Barristan nodded in approval.

"They'll have men guarding the rookery." Lord Darry said. "Even if we can get past this siege, it won't be a simple task."

"It can be done."

"It will be done." Ser Arthur said with finality. "Let us draw up the mes-"

"Your Grace, sers, my lord." Ser Terrence entered the hall. "Ser Balman Byrch requests your presence at the gate, Daemon wishes to entreat with you."

Another hot day had blessed the yard. The ground was caked in a fine dust that Aegon kicked up with each step.

A small crowd of men stood poised at the gate in their arms and armor, at the ready, should they be called upon. Even more stood atop the battlements.

It was there Aegon and his advisors joined Ser Balman, who commanded the gate for the morning. He wasn't alone however; Ser Damion had joined him.

"We have your wife and daughter; they are safe in my charge." Ser Daemon declared.

"A-and," Damion swallowed, "and my father?"

"He died fighting in the Tower of the Hand."

Damion lowered his head for a moment. "What of my mother?"

"Dead." Was all Ser Daemon replied.

Damion's eyes dropped to his feet.

"That's enough, Damion." Ser Barristan placed a hand on his shoulder. "Head down for now and take a rest. Ser Balman, see that he gets it."

Damion nodded, numbly. Barely finishing a courtesy for Aegon as he stepped heavily away with Balman at his side.

"We are here, betrayer." Ser Arthur declared as they turned to the outer yard below them, and the men arrayed there.

"I am no traitor, your Grace." Daemon spoke to his king. "Your Lord Hand means to serve you ill. I know it, as do the men beside you."

Aegon glanced over the crowd of Dornishmen standing before him, looking to him.

"You brought violence here, upon your own royal charges!" Ser Barristan accused.

"The princesses Rhaenys and Daenerys are safe and unharmed." Daemon replied. "I beseech you, King Aegon, to open the gates and join your family."

"You can't be trusted after what you've done, Daemon." It was Lord Darry who spoke now.

"And you think Tywin can be trusted?!" The outburst came from the man beside Daemon, Aegon recognized him as Lord Tremond Gargalen. Raymund's father. The father of the man Ser Barristan had slain. "Queen Elia's body wasn't even cold when Tywin usurped her place and began to tear apart what she had built."

"We've only meant to safeguard you from the Lannister's schemes. Once Tywin has taken power, he's not like to give it back. Remember the Reynes and Tarbecks."

Ser Barristan shifted beside Aegon.

Brutal and unjust massacres. Aegon knew the story, had been contemplating it before this violence began.

"Tywin won't stop with the regency. He'll grasp for every last scrap of power." Daemon continued. "The man will fabricate treasons with which to destroy those who do not conform to his wishes. If you let him, he will control every aspect of your life! He must be stopped here and now!"

Could he trust a man such as Tywin?

Was this not the perfect opportunity to wrest control from him, while he was away?

Aegon already knew the answers to those questions.

But could he trust the men before him?

"And what of the murders you're committed here?" Ser Arthur asked. "Are these to be overlooked?"

"They were… regrettable." Daemon replied. "But action is necessary to dig Tywin's claws out of the court."

"If you decide against us," Tremond declared, "then you're handing the kingdom to the most reviled man in Westeros!"

Daemon said something to his companion that Aegon could not hear, before he turned back to address them.

"I fought alongside your father at the Trident, your Grace. Tried to rally the men after Lewyn Martell was slain by Lyn Corbray. When Rhaegar slew the Demon of the Trident and the rebel's center broke, he turned about and saved us." Daemon said. "When Lord Arryn's men were running us down, it was Rhaegar who led the charge into them. The Valemen broke, and we rallied."

"You and thousands of others." Lord Darry grunted, glancing at Ser Barristan.

"On that day I knew there was no finer man!" Daemon raised his voice. "I mean to do right by him, by his son. To do right by Queen Elia, who was always generous and kind to her people. I honor their memory, by serving you."

To honor them… Was Aegon not, by halting their efforts? Was allowing Tywin free rein a shame upon them, does it cheapen their efforts? Will it mean them undone?

"With your support, we can end the Lannister's control of the capital before it truly begins." Ser Daemon said. "Loyal Dornishmen, Martells, your family may take their place. Let it be written, give us your seal and decree!"

A part of Aegon wanted to accept their offer. So very much he did.

They were his mother's people. And Tywin was so very dangerous, so terribly cruel.

But a thought kept nagging at the back of Aegon's mind.

"And what would become of Jon in all this?" Aegon finally spoke up, his voice shaky.

"Jon?" Daemon asked.

"My brother, Jon Snow." Aegon repeated, steadier.

Daemon hesitated. "He would remain by your side, of course."

Aegon thought about the plot Jon overheard. He thought of the men battering down a door with Jon on the other side, claiming that it would be his final day.

Aegon wasn't having it. "Men came upon him in the castle, they meant to kill him."

The king looked upon Lord Gargalen.

"Your son was among them, led them. He said you wanted Jon dead."

Lord Tremond glared up at the boy, but the king glared back.

"I won't be accepting your offer, Ser Daemon." Aegon mustered up his courage before addressing the crowd. "If there are any leal men among you, if you are truly loyal to my family, put down your swords and end this folly. Open the gates to the city watch and see that order is restored to the castle."

None seemed eager to follow Aegon's command.

"There, you have your answer, traitors! We won't be leaving this holdfast until we see Lord Commander Thorne and all the prisoners you've taken walking free!" Lord Darry said, the glimmer of some manner of pride in his eyes.

"We have your wife and children as well, Lord Darry." The white traitor added. "The newborn remains with his mother."

"Bastard." Darry gritted out.

"Best keep their wellbeing in mind!" Gargalen added indelicately, spitting on the ground before him. "Give up this foolishness, before anyone else is hurt."

"That's enough, Tremond." Ser Daemon's voice was sharp.

But the threat lingered in the air.

Had Tremond meant to cow the old master-at-arms, then he had gravely misplayed his hand.

Lord Darry's face was red, his jaw clenched tight, and his eyes bore into the two below him. If a look could kill…

"You'll forgive me, Ser Daemon." Lord Darry breathed deep. "My eyes are not what they used to be; I see no reason that could sway me from my king."

"So be it. Then I must regretfully see your defenses overcome, for your own good." Ser Daemon sighed, turning away. "Come the morrow, the fight continues."

The reality that they would do battle lingered in the air as the traitor strode away.

"It seems we'll have to carry out our plan after all, sooner rather than later." Ser Barristan said after a time.

"I'll steal away in the night." Arthur began, "I'll need a distraction, perhaps during one of their attacks. Get me some rope and I'll scale down the back wall."

"And I'll keep an eye on the guard, it won't do for the Dornishmen to take the holdfast while you're gone." Lord Darry added.

"Right then." Arthur nodded. "You have the king, Ser Barristan."

As they shuffled off and discussed the castle's defenses, Aegon remained. He looked over the yard, cleared of most of the bodies which had fallen in the day before. Those which had fallen into the moat were unclaimed, both sides too wary of each other to make the effort to recover them.

He thought of that which he could not see, the threat looming over Darry's and Damion's families.

"Your Grace?" Ser Barristan stirred beside him.

"It's nothing, Ser Barristan." Aegon said, looking out over the castle. He hesitated, before continuing. "It's just – well, this was all done for me. Or the Crown."

Ser Barristan looked uncomfortable at that.

"All this death."

"Aegon."

"It's my fault."

Daemon began his attacks on the holdfast the next day.

Aegon and the other children withdrew to the royal apartments, the king's room. Ser Terrence joined them as a minder.

Sounds of fighting filtered through the windows and into the halls.

Ser Barristan had taken command of the walls, with Lord Darry beside him as his lieutenant.

Arthur Dayne had taken to rest in his own room, to prepare for his mission in the night.

Aegon could only hope they would last so long.

He had tried to read a book, a history which attempted to chronicle the reign of Aerys II. A wise young man whose reign was filled with promise, who had loved a woman that would marry his friend. A reign of peace and plenty. One with a care for the commons, at least so long as Lord Tywin did not intervene.

Aerys had been betrayed by Lord Stark's ambitions, that's what Aegon's lessons would say. But Oswell, Ser Barristan, they had said Aerys had turned dark. That he was haunted by terrible demons.

That had made Aegon think to his dreams, his own sleepless nights. The visions of dread which haunted him.

He wished so very dearly that he would not become like Aerys.

Aegon found he could not concentrate on the history, not with the fighting outside.

So, he cast his thoughts to his friends.

Lucion stood staring out from the balcony, fearing for his father on the wall, his mother and sister in the traitor's clutches.

Jon and Robb tried to distract themselves with a game of Cyvasse, played on a fine marble and wood board with pieces of ornate red and black onyx. They had arranged their mountains haphazardly, not truly caring for their advantage. Jon had rushed his dragon across the board to take one of Robb's elephants. A mistake, Robb felled the dragon with his trebuchet.

The two played crudely at battles which were more familiar to them than the one which lay outside the walls. Their inexperience further hampered by the tension in the room, and the fighting so very near.

Every now and then there would be a shout of pain that rose above the clatter of steel, or a yell that was suddenly cut off. Those disturbed Aegon most of all.

The royal bedchamber was a lavish thing with great airy curtains by the bed and window. Tapestries depicted fabled scenes from history and legend. The immense bed fit for the king, of course, covered in red silk sheets. Large though it was, the bed didn't dominate the room as it might others. The room itself was a wide and sprawling thing, complete with couches and tables and chandeliers. Everything crafted from rare and luxurious materials, including the white weirwood bench Aegon sat atop. It was meant to entertain and impress guests, after all.

There were conjoining rooms for privacy, or for servants which may attend the king if needed. Not that they served such a purpose now, in the situation they were in.

Such extravagance, all coming to so little use now.

Across from where Aegon sat at the foot of the bed was a portrait taken of the royal family. Aegon's mother and father, and a younger Rhaenys sat smiling atop Rhaegar's knee. Aegon was a babe laying swaddled in Elia's arms. She bore a soft, gentle smile upon her face, like many she'd born for Aegon in life.

It was painted before Rhaegar became king, back when he was still just Prince of Dragonstone.

Aegon's father, he was so often noted for his melancholy. But even so, a ghost of a smile seemed to play upon his lips, almost as if it wasn't there. A shared moment with Rhaenys perhaps. Royal portraits were all too often made to be serious affairs. The royals were expected to appear grim and strong, unapproachable. That marked this painting as something particularly special for Aegon.

It was just a glimpse, but…

It made them all so real, present.

Alive.

How much was left of them? Their actions were felt by the realm. Kings were rarely ever truly forgotten. The High Septon had made a point in the funeral service to note how Elia had cared for the people, they would not forget her. The Crown shaped Westeros, inexorably stamping the realm with the character of its rulers. Rhaegar had ended a rebellion which sought to supplant the Targaryens with an outlaw known for drunkenness and lechery. A king's sacrifice of his own life, in defense of the realm, the people, and his family.

History turned upon such acts.

Should those men outside breach the defenses of Maegor's Holdfast, what would be left of Jon? Of Lucion? And what might they do with Robb? He was heir of the traitors, as Viserys was so quick to remind him. Could Aegon even trust that the Dornishmen outside would do himself no harm?

Should he die, what would there be that he left behind? What lives had he touched?

Aegon drank in the portrait.

What was left of the man? Of the father? History tells the stories of men, but not of the man, who he truly was.

What did he care for, strive for?

Aegon would only ever know his father through that which others said of him.

Below the portrait was a dresser of goldenheart wood, a material from the distant Summer Isles, long ago forbidden from leaving the islands.

Placed atop it was what truly caught Aegon's eye.

A harp.

A small one, with silver strings.

'He has a song.'

The words seemed to drift in and out of Aegon's thoughts.

He crossed the room to it. Felt the delicate craftsmanship.

Aegon plucked a string, and it made a low and sweet note.

"Have you practiced at the harp, your Grace?" Ser Terrence interrupted his revery.

"No, but I should like to." Aegon looked up to the portrait. "It… might take my mind off things."

"I've practiced a little. Started around your age." Ser Terrence continued, strolling over to his charge. "I – well, I listened to songs your father played. They were beautiful, made me want to play music like that.

"Truly?"

"Yes, I've not practiced enough. But perhaps I can teach you, what little I know. May I start us off with a song?"

"You may." Aegon replied, handing over the instrument.

Terrence held it, marveled at it. He fiddled with the strings, tuned them.

"What should we play?" Terrence asked.

Aegon thought once more, of the fighting outside. Of the death.

"The Mother's Hymn, if it please you."

"Aye, I can play that."

He began plucking the notes of that old hymn which all the faithful knew. It was a little clumsy, Terrence was no expert. But it was good to hear all the same.

When Terrence began to sing, Aegon followed.

"Gentle Mother, font of mercy,"

"save our sons from war, we pray,"

"stay the swords and stay the arrows,"

"let them know a better day."

"Gentle Mother, strength of women,"

"help our daughters through this fray,"

"soothe the wrath and tame the fury,"

"teach us all a kinder way."

"Gentle Mother, font of mercy,"

"save our sons from war, we pray."

"Stay the swords and stay the arrows,"

"let them know a better day."

As Ser Terrence showed Aegon the notes and chords, night began to fall.

Ser Arthur Dayne would be making his attempt to sneak out of the holdfast soon.

He would be jumping into the viper's pit.

Aegon wished that all those in the castle would see that better day.

And there's chapter 8! Wow, bet none of you expected me to put out a new chapter after just a week, not with my frequent and lengthy hiatuses!

I quite like this chapter, nice chunk of things going on in it. Team Aegon isn't sitting entirely idle in this siege! Lord Darry being a bit suspicious of the loyalties of the Dornish servants bottled up in Maegor's Holdfast. And we have Team Daemon throwing a few threats out there, holding hostages, and playing on a few of Aegon's heartstrings. Aegon then standing up for Jon, and then later he has some twisting thoughts about his family and mortality.

And at the very end, Aegon starts learning the harp, something to connect with his father about. I find it an interesting idea, had it in my back pocket since I started day dreaming up this story all the way back at the very beginning in 2015. Plus, I thought it would be a fun little reference to Sansa singing The Mother's Hymn at the Battle of the Blackwater. Still really like the collection of fan covers for asoiaf songs that I've gathered. 'Sansa's Hymn' by Letomi Undercover is the one I was thinking of when I wrote that last passage, her cover of The Mother's Hymn is quite good. Christocakes has got to be my favorite when it comes to people doing covers of asoiaf songs. Definitely recommend checking those two out if you're interested in some music.

Had a good bit of fun writing this one up, hope you all enjoy it as well! And have fun with the second episode of House of the Dragon's second season!