Save the Dragons
F.Y.I: So, bloodmagic is not strictly illegal in canon, as in its legality is never mentioned. One would think however that it would be and since I am the one true god of this world now, it is.
Chapter 5 – Trials and Tribulations
Rhaenys
Silverwing had burst her chains and was flying above the city like a dark cloud, the silver lining being that none would dare harm Laenor lest his dragon rain fire down on them. How the dragon had learned of Laenor's imprisonment was a mystery, but dragons were mysterious creatures. The chaos within the Dragonpit had allowed her to slip past the Dragonkeepers and take Meleys.
There were now two dragons on the loose, and a third flying southwest to make good on a promise, for Laena loved her brother well.
And it was not as if Caraxes or Vermithor would challenge them on this front, nor could the other dragons hope to without riders.
Rhaenys marched through the Red Keep like a whirlwind, Meleys had landed inside the courtyard and none had dared bar her entry.
Soon she was barging into the Small Council chamber, the twin sphinxes flanking the walls looking down on her.
The council was in session, and all were present, including the High Septon with his crystal crown, even Daemon and Rhaenyra were there. Her son's betrothed turning the rings on her finger madly.
The Kingsguard stopped her at the door, swords drawn, not that she was cowed.
"Why has my son been imprisoned?" she demanded – loudly.
"Peace, Rhaenys," the king begged.
"There will be no peace until Laenor is released!" promised Rhaenys.
"Ser Laenor has been placed under house arrest until such time he can answer the accusations that he has been performing bloodmagic," said the Hand.
Rhaenys knew it was his handy work her boy was in jail. It was no secret the High Septon had gotten here before Corlys had, and that could only mean it was Otto's handiwork.
"You have no right arresting my son."
"I have every right, I am the King's Hand."
"It is a most heinous sin against the Faith," proselytized the High Septon. "The king as the champion of the Faith is duty bound to force this man to answer for this apostasy."
"When has bloodmagic been a crime?" she queried.
"Since the reign of King Jaehaerys, passed into law to when Tyanna of the Tower's vile sorcery was exposed," answered the Master of Law.
"Leanor has always been precocious, but bloodmagic, hardly." Rhaenys scoffed.
"If the boy is innocent, he has nothing to fear," spoke the king.
"And if he is guilty, we will find the princess a more suitable betrothed. A man of unquestionable faith," the High Septon declared, speaking Hightower's words.
So that was Otto's game, drag Laenor's name through the dirt in a desperate bid to end the union between House Targaryen and House Velaryon.
"I do not want to marry anyone else," Rhaenyra bristled. "I won't marry anyone else!"
Vermithor's roar echoed from the Dragonpit.
"Rhaenyra." Viserys silenced his daughter, who begrudgingly quieted down.
Daemon was smiling as if it was all an amusing game to him, but thankfully his allegiance to their house kept him from speaking against them.
Rhaenys was not satisfied. "Laena has flown to Oldtown, if a hair on Laenor's head is harmed, I swear to you; she will melt the Hightower and the Starry Sept both."
"You would threaten the House of the Gods?! Seven Hells await the enemies of the Seven Above!" roared the High Septon.
"You threaten treason in the king's own keep?" asked a scandalized Hand, who'd gone pale at the threat.
"I would do anything to keep my son safe."
"No one will be harmed," Viserys butt in.
"Your Grace, surely you cannot allow this impudence to go unpunished?"
"Leave us, Otto."
"Your Grace, I must-"
"Leave, all of you."
"Father, what about-"
"You especially, Rhaenyra."
The councillors took their leave, Otto Hightower scowling all the while, Rhaenys nearly knocked off the High Septon's crown. Daemon nodded as he walked briskly past her.
Rhaenyra stopped and placed a hand on her shoulder, before being escorted away by a Kingsguard knight, apparently, the girl was under house arrest herself for fear of Vermithor joining Silverwing in the sky.
"Have you gone mad, Rhaenys?" rebuked the king.
"It is I who should be asking you that, cousin," she argued.
"Even I must tread carefully with the Faith, Rhaenys!"
"Imprisoning my son on false charges is tantamount to declaring war on my House."
"You speak as if I've locked him away in a Black Cell, no harm will come to the boy, he is mine own daughter's betrothed."
"You would not break the betrothal?"
The familiar grievance of her inheritance being stolen from her felt fresh, as she brushed the black hair from her purple eyes.
"I mean to do no such thing, I would have Laenor answer the charges and clear his name."
"And if he is found guilty?"
"Then I will punish him with a slap on the wrist, nothing more. Rhaenyra is obsessed with the boy, I would not part them."
Rhaenys shook her head. "Can you really be so foolish, cousin? Otto Hightower means to drag my son's good name through the muck to damage your daughter's claim. To tarnish her with the taint of bloodmagic."
"Otto Hightower has served two kings loyally and faithfully."
"He wants his grandson on the Iron Throne."
"As do I. Mine own grandson, not my son. And that is all that matters."
"Are you truly so blind to Hightower's ambition? If you do not stop his grasping, one day your children will be at war with each other."
"I will not believe my children will despise each other so."
The king would not see reason, his head was buried in the sand.
"Laenor does not deserve this treatment."
"Your son has already begged for the right to a fair trial to clear his name. Every courtesy will be afforded to him."
Rhaenys shook her head in disbelief and made for the door.
She was going to see her son. Ser Arryk followed her.
"I forbid you to burn anything or anyone," Viserys commanded as she exited.
"Then release my son!" she shouted back.
The music barely blotted out the noise of Silverwing's booming roar in the distance.
She could hear the harp playing long before she arrived at his door.
"Stuck inside these four walls, sent inside forever,"
At least he'd been spared the indignity of a Black Cell due to his station.
"Never seeing no one, nice again,"
So she found herself climbing the tower's steps to his cell.
'At least he's been allowed his harp,' she thought to herself.
"Like you, muna. Youuuu, muna... Youuuu."
Soon she was standing toe to toe with two Gold Cloaks guarding the door.
"Stand aside."
They did not budge.
"Stand aside or I will return with the Red Queen and we see how deep your courage runs then."
Ser Arryk nodded to them. They parted, and she entered.
Laenor was laid lazily on his beg, strumming his harp.
"Muna," he said, and she rushed to embrace him.
"My son," she muttered in High Valyrian.
"Otto Hightower means to end your betrothal," she told him.
"I know, he's desperate." her son said, brushing a hand through his silver locks, "if one considers Rhaenyra and Daemon on our side, then our House easily outclasses Aegon's bid for the throne," Laenor explained, having already surmised the Hand's plan.
"But to be so brazen, I did not think the man to be such a dullard."
"I believe he's willing to do anything if it means Rhaenyra's claim is tainted."
"Viserys is adamant he will not break the betrothal."
"Of course, it's the same reason the Old King sought to prevent civil war with the Great Council, he needs House Velaryon close."
"Then why is Otto pulling this charade?"
"I think he knows he's already lost the first round of the Game of Thrones, and has settled for an advantage in the long game. If they can prove I'm guilty of bloodmagic, the Faith will turn against Rhaenyra's claim for a certainty."
"Can they prove it?"
Laenor smiled.
"They'll try."
He rummaged through his possessions and pulled out a strange vial. Gesturing with his hand that the walls were listening to them.
Laenor passed it to her, and whispered in her ear, "Give this to Father, have him add it to wine and give it to the strongest witness against me."
"To what end?" she whispered back.
"The truth."
Corlys had arrived the next day - furious. As soon as his ship arrived, he ordered the Gullet to be closed off by the Velaryon fleet.
The realm would feel the wrath of House Velaryon for this injustice.
Still, Viserys was like to suffer it instead of angering the Faith. Whatever Otto had promised them must have been great indeed.
Rhaenys watched as the court assembled, and the judges sat in their seats. The king, the High Septon, and the Master of Laws were to sit in judgment of her son today.
Corlys would plead his defense, while the Hand prosecuted his persecution.
Laenor was brought forth in fetters.
"Please, Your Grace, are chains really necessary?" Corlys requested.
Viserys nodded to the Kingsguard who'd escorted Laenor into the hall and the chains were removed, she watched Laenor rub his wrists and bowed in thanks.
Her son found her eyes and gave her a reassuring smile.
The Hand stood and made his case, "My Lords, My Ladies, Your High Holiness, Your Grace. We are gathered here to hear the charges against Ser Laenor, accused of the most heinous of crimes. Performing bloodmagic."
The court murmured, shocked gasps and the scattered boo.
"The crown will bring forth seven witnesses to testify against the accused, I am confident when their testimony is heard and weighed against the accused, the crown will be assured of his guilt."
An omen of the Faith, no doubt it would be pleasing to the religious folk and certainly the High Septon, but it pleased Rhaenys too. Fewer voices advocating against her son.
The first witness was a whore from the Street of Silk, who testified that a travelling maegi confessed to her that he had taught Laenor bloodmagic, and used the profits from the lesson to lay with her. Corlys tried to discredit the girl by referencing her occupation and claiming it was hearsay.
"All sins are forgiven in the eyes of the Seven." The High Septon deflected.
His mind had already been made up it seemed. Most likely bought and paid for, whether in coin or promises of what a realm under Aegon the Puppet might look like.
Next, the same travelling maegi was brought forth. Missing his fingernails.
"Did you teach Laenor Velaryon bloodmagic?"
"I did, My Lord, I swear it on my life."
Corlys dismissed the man's testimony as having been coerced. Lord Strong argued that torture was a legal way of extracting information in trials.
Then her husband questioned the man about how bloodmagic was performed.
"We wouldn't have a raper reenact the act at trial, would we?" the High Septon asked.
"We might if we didn't know what rape was." quipped her son, always precocious. There was nervous tittering and the king dismissed the witness. At least Corlys' questioning if the man could even perform bloodmagic had set the crowd to murmuring again instead of whispering.
A Red Priest then stood in the docket, wearing robes of crimson and looking every bit the part.
"Did you teach magic to Ser Laenor?"
"I did."
"Heathen!" shouted someone in the hall, as the High Septon sneered.
"What kind of magic did you teach my son?" asked Corlys.
"How to control the flames."
"Your Grace, pyromancy is no crime lest half the magicians in King's Landing be criminals. Your own ancestors used pyromancy to forge the Freehold. I move the witnesses' testimony be disregarded."
"Objection, Your Grace, it speaks to the nature of Ser Laenor's character, learning magic from foreign priests and their queer gods."
"There is only one true God! The Lord of Light!" the Red Priest could not resist.
"Blasphemy!" shouted down the High Septon.
Viserys sat up and spoke, "If pyromancy were illegal, anyone with Valyrian Steel would be an accessory. Move on, Otto."
Hightower seemed unshaken. Of course, he was. He likely hadn't suspected the testimony to be taken seriously, like this whole trial, the goal was to drag Laenor's name through the dirt. To paint him as a dark sorcerer who consorted with foreign heathens.
"Apologies, Your Grace, it seems the next witness has regrettably escaped custody."
"Who was this witness?" the High Septon demanded.
"A Shadowbinder from Asshai." delighted the Hand in answering. More murmurs from the court. Asshai was as foreign as one could get.
Viserys sighed and turned to Lord Strong, "Have the City Watch look for them."
"Of course, Your Grace."
"Until then, continue on with the trial."
An emaciated Warlock from Qarth with blue lips was dragged forth in chains and likewise testified that he'd taught Laenor magic.
"Are we to hear the same duck quack again and again, Your Grace? I can testify that I paid tutors from around the world to teach my son," Corlys argued, taking some of the 'blame' onto himself.
That much was true, Corlys had spent a fortune at Laenor's request to learn magic. Less so that it had been Corlys' ideas. They had trusted Laenor's judgment, even as a boy, that such things would come to play an important part in the years to come.
Viserys nodded, "Move on, Otto, you have already established that the boy knows magic of a sort. It is bloodmagic that is in question today."
"Very well, Your Grace, I have no more such witnesses."
What shocked the court was Ser Harwin Strong being called forth to testify.
That did not bode well.
"Ser Harwin, do you recall an incident in the training yard some time ago between yourself and Ser Velaryon?"
"I do." the burly knight agreed. Laenor was not a hateful boy, but many a letter home had included a disparaging remark about the man's pug nose.
"Can you describe what happened that day?"
"Velaryon had challenged me to a duel on account of my giving court to the Princess Rhaenyra," he explained, "We fought, I was getting the better of him, and he used bloodmagic to light his sword on fire!" Strong accused.
The crowd went into a frenzy.
"Liar!" shouted Laenor.
"It's true! I saw it with mine own eyes!"
"Silence!" screamed the Lord Commander, and the hall went silent.
Corlys was eager to cross-examine the witness, "Tell me, Strong, who won this duel?"
Harwin's face contorted, "He cheated!"
"He won!"
"He cheated."
"So, is it not true that you are angry about your defeat?"
"He cheated."
Rhaenys began to understand all the angry mentions in Laenor's letters.
"Is it not true you bear a grudge and are slandering my son?"
"Objection, Your Grace."
"Lord Corlys," her cousin warned her husband.
So this was Otto's true plan, force Lord Strong's hand, make him side with the Faith against their family, or else name his son and heir a liar. Even if the king ruled not guilty, two-thirds of the judges would.
Laenor was speaking to his father, and then Corlys said "The Princess Rhaenyra was there that day, she can testify my son did not use bloodmagic."
"The Princess's love for Ser Laenor is well-known, Your Grace."
"As is Ser Harwin's hatred."
"You mistrust my daughter, Otto?" the king asked, "I can think of no finer witness."
The Princess soon stood to testify.
"Your Grace, on that day did you happen to see my son use bloodmagic."
Rhaenyra stood gracefully, and stern-faced, "I did not," she proclaimed.
"Do you love Ser Laenor?" Otto asked on cross-examination.
"I do. He is my betrothed." Rhaenyra said unflinchingly.
"Enough that you would do anything for him?"
"I am not lying!" she roared.
"No further questions, Your Grace."
"Your Grace, I move that my son be released immediately, all the evidence produced has been irrelevant or contradicted," Corlys argued, wanting to end this charade.
"Otto?" the king asked, clearly tired of these proceedings.
"If you'll allow me our last witness, Your Grace."
Viserys nodded in exasperation.
"The crown calls Acolyte Davros to the stand!"
Most of the crowd gave no reaction to the unfamiliar name, but Laenor paled. Not noticeably, but a mother can tell.
A small man with a pinched face made his way forward and stood in the docket.
"You are an acolyte of the Alchemist's Guildhall, are you not?"
"I am, My Lord."
"What have you come to testify this day?"
"I saw Laenor Velaryon perform bloodmagic in the Guildhall! He cut his thumb and used his blood to light a glass candle."
"What pray tell is a glass candle?"
"A relic of Old Valyria, it's said to grant the user the ability to see across vast distances and into men's minds."
"Dark magic?"
"The darkest, My Lord."
"Do you have proof of this?" Otto asked.
"I do, My Lord."
"Bring forth the evidence," Otto cried out.
In came a tall rod of obsidian, caked in dried blood. Which the Grand Master of the Alchemists was forced to admit belonged to Laenor.
Grand Maester Mellos examined Laenor's thumbs and declared there indeed was a cut.
Rhaenys felt queasy. Otto was preening like a peacock.
Corlys was speaking in hushed tones to their son, who had started smiling.
"Grand Maester, is it possible to light a glass candle?"
The Maester looked uneasy, "No one has ever done such a thing before."
"Is not true that maesters are required to attempt lighting a glass candle before they are initiated as a demonstration of the impossible?" Corlys asked.
"It is." came the nervous reply.
"Thank you, Grand Maester."
Corlys turned to the Acolyte, "Such riveting testimony, you must be nervous, would you like some wine?"
Rhaenys began to hope.
The acolyte nodded his head, and Corlys had a cup poured.
"Did you see for yourself, my son lighting this candle?"
The acolyte's face scrunched up, "Ye-no."
"You did not?"
"I did-n't." the acolyte laughed and put his hands to his mouth in terror.
"You did not see my son actually perform bloodmagic, despite just testifying that you did?"
"N-yes."
Otto had gone pale this time.
"Did someone pay you to testify against my son?"
The acolyte went tight-lipped.
"Answer the question!" roared Viserys.
"The Lord Hand," giggled the acolyte, before wrapping his hands around his mouth.
The crowd busts out in another fit of whispers. It was chaos. The king looked enraged, Hightower looked as if he had swallowed his own tongue, Corlys looked smug in victory. Rhaenyra had a catlike grin, while the High Septon was grimacing like he'd stubbed his toe on a stinging eel.
Laenor just stood there looking as if he'd expected the answer all along.
"Otto Hightower paid you to lie about Ser Laenor?" questioned the king sternly.
Without moving his hands from his face, the acolyte nodded vigorously.
The crowd was abuzz again, deafening any proceedings.
"Silence! Silence!" the Lord Commander screamed, to no avail.
"Have Ser Laenor brought to my chambers," the king commanded as he made his leave.
As the Kingsguard escorted her son out of the hall, she could hear him singing "I'm on my way from misery to happiness today."
Such a precocious child her son was, she thought as he winked at her when walking by.
"Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh."
Viserys
There were days when Viserys wondered if he was truly meant to be king and not young Laenor Velaryon. That Prince Aemon's line was meant to succeed the Old King and not his father's. That he had stolen the boy's birthright.
That feeling had only once been greater than today, the day Aemma had died giving birth to Baelon.
The boy's genius in his lessons marked him as a prodigy that Viserys had never compared to. His discovery of near-eyes, of animalcules, and now this printing press of his. A pyromancer and Viserys suspected a blood magician. Terribly powerful and beautiful. It reminded Viserys of the Stormsingers of Old Valyria...
Even now Silverwing cast a black shadow over the city, ready to melt the Red Keep if her rider was harmed, he had no doubt.
All that had stood between the boy and Iron Throne was Rhaenys' lack of a cock.
Viseryd thanked the Gods that he was besotted with Rhaenyra and did not mean to press his own claim.
But that spectacle in the throne room had disturbed him something awful.
"Your Grace," greeted the Kingsguard as they brought his former squire to him.
The man was smiling a roguish smile that reminded him so much of his mother.
"Your Grace," bowed Ser Laenor.
"Leave us," Viserys commanded his Kingsguard, and they departed without a word. White cloaks billowing as they exited.
"An interesting day, isn't it, Your Grace?" chuckled Laenor.
Viserys grunted.
"Did you have to something to do with that bit of theatre?"
Laenor smiled, "I may have added something to the wine to loosen the man's tongue."
"You can make men speak the truth?" Viserys queried in amazement.
"I can do all manner of things, Your Grace."
"Including bloodmagic? Answer me truthfully, or I will have this wine brought before me."
Velaryon frowned, "Between you and I, Your Grace, it is within my powers."
"So the acolyte's accusations were true?"
"Well, he didn't actually see me do it... so he told the truth there."
"You realize I could have you put to death for this?" Viserys asked, wanting to assert his authority as king.
"Fire and blood, Your Grace," Laenor defended himself, "Our words. Old Valyria was built with bloodmagic. Our house is built on bloodmagic. Blackfyre and Dark Sister, forged with bloodmagic. The dragons bonded to us, bloodmagic. If you condemn me, you are condemning your ancestors."
"Hmm," Viserys hummed, pleased that the Velaryon considered himself a Targaryen on account of his mother's blood.
"Besides, my family's dragons would take issue with my execution."
Viserys laughed at that, to prevent him from crying. House Velaryon's might in truth exceeded his own, especially if one saw that Rhaenyra was with them. They had four Dragonriders to House Targaryen's one. He might rule the Seven Kingdoms, but Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters had proven how conventional forces fared against dragonflame. Not to mention the wealth and power of the Velaryon fleet they had at their back.
And as much he'd like to think he had Daemon at his side, years of fighting in the Stepstones with Lord Corlys since their estrangement had him questioning even that.
Again, he thanked the Gods they were to be his allies and not his enemies.
"So, you lit this glass candle of yours, what did you see, pray tell?"
Laenor seemed to stare into his soul with those violet eyes of his, "I saw fire and blood, Your Grace. 'Tis' to begin with a terrible winter gusting out of the distant north. Aegon saw absolute darkness riding on those winds. And whatever dwells within will destroy the world of the living.'"
Viserys nearly collapsed hearing his own words, "Rhaenyra must have told you."
The Velaryon shook his head and gestured for the dagger at Viserys' hip, Viserys handed it to him.
"From my blood, come the Prince that Was Promised, and his will be the Song of Ice and Fire." Laenor spoke, even before the Valyrian Steel blade began to glow and show the inscription.
He was shocked, how could such knowledge be possible?
"The glass candles showed you this?"
"My dreams showed me this, Your Grace," Laenor explained and Viserys dared think he understood, Laenor was a dreamer like Daenys and Aegon had been. That would explain everything.
Laenor nodded, "You have had a dream yourself, Your Grace, of a babe born to you wearing the Conqueror's ruby crown."
Velaryon was speaking like a fortune-teller, and Viserys would have dismissed them as theatrics if he had not heard the truth in his words.
"You have seen even that?" Viserys asked shaken to the bone.
"I have seen that and more, Your Grace. I have even seen your death."
"My death?"
"You have a flesh-eating disease you are hiding from court, it will continue to fester until you lose yourself to it and it takes your life."
"Do you know if there is some way to stop it?" Viserys asked desperately.
"Yes, Your Grace, your maesters have been burning and butchering you, and failing in their ignorance. But I have learned the higher mysteries and there is a way to cure you."
"Truly?"
Laenor nodded once more, "I believe you have a disease called leprosy, caused by an animalcule, I believe milk of the seahorse and my magic can restore you to health."
"Anything. I'll give you anything."
"I want you to continue to support Rhaenyra's claim, in exchange for healing you, I want your complete support in my plans to see her on the throne."
"You have that already." Such an easy bargain?
"No, I want your complete support. Beginning with Otto Hightower's dismissal as Hand."
"Done." Viserys already meant to do such when it had been uncovered Otto was attempting to undermine Rhaenyra so underhandedly.
"I want the crown's support in annexing the Stepstones properly."
Viserys was confused, "Daemon already conquered the Stepstones."
Laenor shook his head, "The Triarchy and Dorne will fight back, I want the support of the Iron Throne to wage a proper war against them once the time comes. Without any interference from the crown."
"You will have it. Whatever resources you need. Free to do with as you wish."
It was no small request, committing the realm to war, but Viserys cherished life dearly.
"I want House Velaryon raised to the title of Lord Paramount of the Stepstones and Warden of the Narrow Sea once it's done."
Such was but a title, so Viserys agreed freely.
"I want the Guild of Alchemists placed under my control."
Viserys nodded, harder done but worth it.
"And I want the resources of the realm placed at my disposal to begin my projects in earnest."
"Very well, but I am soon done with bargaining and will begin with the ordering. Do not forget I hold your life in my hands as well."
Laenor smiled, likely knowing his threat was an empty one.
"So let us not tarry, Your Grace, first you will need to order the Kingsguard to bar entry to your rooms."
"Why is that?"
"There will be screaming, Your Grace, it will be pain beyond your wildest imagination. And we cannot be interrupted."
The maesters had promised pain as well, and he had accepted it, even when it hadn't worked.
"Heal me, and what you ask for will be yours, along with Rhaenyra's hand."
Viserys bid the Kingsguard do as Laenor requested, and had his rooms closed off to anyone else.
The king and the lordling were not seen again that day, but as the hours passed the Kingsguard reported hearing the sound of wild laughter coming from the king's chambers, deep, dark, and mad laughter and terrible screams the like of which the king's torturers had not ever heard. The Kingsguard did as they were bid when the queen, the princess, and the hand came to check in on them, even when ordered to stand aside.
Later was heard a high-wailing song in High Valyrian, that sent the dragon Meleys flying from the keep and took Silverwing out of the sky.
Once night had come, the king appeared, naked from the waist up, where the diseased flesh had been there was now charred and blackened skin with wisps of dark smoke rising from the ashes.
"Otto Hightower is to leave the city immediately and return to Oldtown indefinitely. From this day forth, Lord Strong will be my Hand. Have the court assemble, the trial will recommence immediately," he gave his orders.
Laenor
The court reassembled from their slumber. This time the crowd consisted only of his mother and father, the judges, Rhaeynra, and some retainers who'd been woken by all the commotion.
It was nighttime now after all.
The Lord Hand was conspicuously missing, or former Hand, as the badge of office was now pinned to Lord Strong's chest, and the High Septon looked awfully afraid indeed.
"Ser Laenor, it seems the case against you has fallen apart." The king spoke from his place, high on the Iron Throne.
"All the same, Your Grace, I would like the chance to prove my innocence for a certainty," Laenor replied.
"What do you suggest?"
"I demand a trial by combat."
"Done."
They'd worked this out beforehand. Personally, Laenor thought trials by combat were antiquated nonsense, but as a knight, he had a right to them, and what better way to prove his innocence to the realm than to defeat the Faith's champion? The king soon forbade any of the Kingsguard to stand as champion of the prosecution, which was unlucky because he so wanted to do away with Ser Criston once and for all.
None other than Otto's son, Ser Gwayne Hightower was chosen to fight him, in the name of the High Septon. Vigilance, House Hightower's Valyrian Steel sword in hand.
Ser Gwayne probably liked his chances, he had bested Laenor in tourneys before and now had Vigilance on his side.
He stood before Laenor, clad in lobster plate, with a green surcoat.
Laenor had his own armour on, silvered steel scales atop gilded mail.
Gwayne's banner displayed the Hightower on a field of grey. Laenor's, a one-headed silver dragon on a field of aquamarine.
A hundred or so people soon packed the training yard of the Red Keep to watch the spectacle.
He did not mean it to be very spectacular.
One thing movies and TV give a wrong impression about is how long fights to the death are, preferring to draw them out for dramatic purposes.
Today's fight would be shorter still if he had his way.
He had never killed anyone before, except perhaps those men who had accosted them in the alley but then he had never checked, but today he was angry.
That Targaryen temper of his was raging again.
Otto Hightower had him dragged in front of the court in chains and he would pay dearly for the insult. The coin spent would be his son's life.
Clad in steel, his blood was up.
The High Septon came forward and gave a blessing, "May the Warrior lend strength to he whose cause is just." pointedly looking at Ser Gwayne.
Rhaenyra gave him her favour, a black handkerchief, while Alicent gave hers to her brother.
Finally, the king gave the signal and battle commenced.
Ser Gwayne charged at him with a wide stroke of his sword, which dug into Laenor's as he blocked it.
As Hightower pulled back, Laenor kicked dust up at his foe, masking the dark smoke of the powder he'd just thrown into his face.
Gwayne stepped forward, and Laenor was sure to draw his dirk and stab it through the man's visor which was much easier to do now that he was dead.
The powder had done its job.
The crowd cheered his name. Rhaenyra and his parents were clapping fiercely. The queen had gone deathly pale.
All Laenor could do was look at the blood on his knife, before he dropped it to the ground like it was scalding hot.
Now that it was over, his temper had faded and all that was left was regret.
He was victorious, but the taste of victory had turned to ash in his mouth.
He'd essentially just murdered a man. It took everything he had in him not to vomit in his helmet.
Silverwing descended to the ground before him, likely sensing his angst and coming to him. From her place in the sky, it would have been easy to spot him. She took up the entirety of the training yard's empty space. Startling the audience something fierce. He had to order her not to eat Ser Gwayne's corpse.
Getting leave from the king that he was now free to go, Laenor took to the sky in flight.
He needed to get his head in the clouds.
You guys are my inspiration, so please leave a review and let me know your thoughts, any questions, concerns, or ideas, I'd love to hear them. The next chapter will be the wedding of Rhaenyra and Laenor.
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I got some feedback that I should've gone deeper into detail with regards to the dragon connection, and trust me, I will. I'm just wading through canon as of yet. The timeskip will delve deeper into things like that.