130 AC
The sounds coming from deep within the black cells were making even the skin of cut-throat Lord Commander of the Gold Cloaks, Luthor Largent, crawl.
His long-time companion and friend had not lied when he told him that he intended to make the traitors pay with fire and blood. Now that the Queen had finally taken her throne, the time for that had come.
The Greens had plenty to answer for…including the stolen gold from the royal coffers.
Luthor Largent leaned his head inside one of the cells just in time to see Prince Daemon Targaryen unsheathe Dark Sister, slashing the man's cheek.
Tyland Lannister cried out in pain, spit and blood oozing from his mouth from previous blows. His jaw was already damaged, and one of his ears was bleeding terribly.
Naught cuts like Valyrian steel.
"Come now, Tyland. You disappoint me. I believed you wiser than that fool of a brother of yours."
Breathing in deeply and rather fast, Tyland would only glare at the Targaryen prince, without saying so much as a word.
A long time had passed since the interrogations had started. The sky outside now certainly matched the blackness of the cells.
Orwyle had been easier to deal with. The Old Wyl, as he was oft called, had cracked open like a pomegranate the very moment he saw Dark Sister at the Prince's hip upon entering his cells.
The former Grand Maester was able to offer some interesting information on the Greens' strategies, for which Daemon was grateful, hence allowing the old man to keep his life…if only in the less spacious stone-cold insides of his cell. For he was never to have the pleasure of sensing the clean air, smell the freshest flowers and fruits, nor admire the wonders of the skies above. No.
As far as the Lord Protector of the Realm was concerned, there was to be no mercy towards traitors. Their family would not be able to withstand the consequences. They had lost plenty in this war. So many names for which funeral pyres would need to be arranged.
His wife had still not recuperated from the loss of her firstborn son, and from what Daemon saw, the feel of justice being served, nor the satisfaction of taking what rightfully belongs to her, would ever be able to compensate for the loss.
And there was another loss…that of his own son, Prince Viserys.
No spy of the White Wyrm was able to inform Daemon of his son's fate, whether he was alive or dead. It was as though the small boy of only eight had vanished from the sights of any being, man or woman.
The Rogue Prince had gritted his teeth at the news, abstaining with all his might from smashing one spy's face into the walls. His son was of pure Valyrian descent. A prince with unique features compared to the common folk of Westeros, and even most of those in Essos. How was it possible that there had been no sightings?
Rhaenyra had accepted the child's fate far too easily. She had bowed her head, her face as tired and swollen as he was used to seeing, due to the many nights she spent crying.
But Daemon cared not. He ordered Mysaria to dispatch only her best to Essos, since that is where he was certain his son was. Until there was a body for the funeral pyre, the Rogue Prince intended to believe his youngest son lived…and he would one day re-join his family.
As for his wife…
With the death of her firstborn son and heir, Prince Jacaerys, a part of Rhaenyra died with him.
Daemon did not care for that one bit. He refused to accept this change on her person. He had married a Dragon Queen, and he expected her to act the part. He wished for a strong Valyrian wife. A force to be reckoned with when it came to their enemies, whilst a sensual beauty in his bed. A goddess of Old Valyria.
He could feel the rush of excitement coursing through his veins at the thought of taking her to bed that night, after he was finished. They had finally reclaimed their home from the Hightower cunts. They were to celebrate this night…but the Rogue Prince was mindful that there was still work to be done.
There were still Greens to be dealt with.
Daemon had instructed the Gold Cloaks to instantly cut down anyone who even dared whisper the name of the usurper.
The prisoners in the black cells were to be only those of great value…such as the Greens' Master of Coin, who was now dependent on his mercy.
Lowering his voice, Daemon leaned closer to the man's face and hissed, "I won't ask again. Where is the gold?"
He was met with another one of Tyland's glares, but naught from his mouth.
With a sigh, Daemon stood up straight, cracking his neck due to exhaustion.
It had certainly been an exciting day, one for the histories, with six splendid dragons surrounding the capital, bending the traitors to their will. He had the pleasure of seeing Otto Hightower's head roll as he had been executed for high treason. He should have liked to see the head of that whore of a queen his brother married roll alongside the former Hand's. Alas, his wife had other ideas.
With all the excitement of the day, the Rogue Prince's patience was now running thin at night.
Using Dark Sister, he placed the blade between Tyland's lips, forcing his mouth to open.
"You know…should your tongue not prove of any use, I shall have no need for it. And thus, it shall be removed."
Pulling back the sword, Daemon landed another fist, sending his head rolling backwards.
"Are you eager to join your brother in the Seven Hells, Tyland? What shall become of your House then? The proud lion would cease to exist. There shall be naught but the low growling of a wounded lioness, desperate to protect her cubs. But how is she to do so when the Red Kraken will be given free reign of Lannisport? I wonder how long till Johanna becomes a salt wife."
The last blow seemed to have rendered him unconscious, and Daemon left the cell with a growl, not having obtained the information he was seeking.
The smallfolk were starving and the Greens were holding all the Crown's gold.
"Assign two of your men to this cell. The moment he starts speaking, come get me." Daemon instructed Largent, just as Rhaenyra walked out of another cell.
Daemon immediately made his way forward, feeling his blood run hot.
Seeing her dressed in that armour, a long braid of gold-silver curls over her shoulder, and the crown of Old King Jaehaerys on her head, made him desire her greatly.
The look on her face seemed to be that of satisfaction, which was a pleasant change from the sorrow he had to constantly endure.
Grabbing her by the waist, Daemon leaned in and pressed his lips against hers in a fervent kiss.
"I intend to fuck you till you remember naught but my name." he whispered against her lips, managing to make her smile.
"Patience, my love. I have matters of Court to attend to."
"Visiting the newly crowned Queen in Chains?"
"Yes. There was much to be discussed."
"I wished to see more than one Hightower head on a spike on such a glorious day. You denied me my pleasure, zaldrītsos. I request to be well compensated."
Caressing his cheek, Rhaenyra pulled him in for another passionate kiss before whispering, "And so you shall."
"What did she say?" Daemon asked, his head motioning to the cell.
"Naught but threats. As if that is going to help her now."
"We still have her sons to deal with…and that mad girl you call a sister."
"'Tis not Helaena's fault. She is my blood and I will not see her harmed."
"Hmm…and what of her brothers?"
"I am not a kinslayer, Daemon. And I never intend to become one." Rhaenyra told him with a serious expression, after which she added, "I offered them the chance to break free of their mother's manipulations and bend the knee. They betrayed me…and then they murdered my son. The One-Eye shall answer for it, rest assured. But I find death far too freeing. Once captured, they are to join their mother here in the black cells, for all eternity if need be."
Sighing, Daemon leaned in so as he could press warm kisses on her neck.
"Enough talk. I wish to see you free of this armour."
"The children…" Rhaenyra began, but her eyes fluttered closed due to his ministrations.
"…are to survive the next hours without us."
Luthor Largent watched from afar as Queen Rhaenyra was led by her Prince Consort out of the black cells in a hurry.
…
145 AC
Sweat dripped down the forehead of the once called Master of Ships and Lord Admiral.
Ser Raynard Ruskyn himself had delivered the blows, before having been instructed to retire for the night.
The wailings of the wet nurses had stopped, as had the sounds coming from Lady Elinda's cell.
It was far too quiet.
The door creaked open slowly and Gedmund Peake's head immediately snapped up in high alert.
His legs were trembling, even as they were tied to the chair. His mouth opened in an attempt to call out for help…until he saw Prince Viserys Targaryen enter.
Gedmund let out an exhale, shaking his head as though he was expecting the Stranger himself to come in and take him.
The man before him was far from the Stranger, and truthfully, far from the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.
Viserys Targaryen was the master of words in a Council meeting, but useless outside of that, as far as Gedmund was concerned. He oft made decisions for the good of the Realm in his brother's name, and to the smallfolk, he was known as a prince who was wise, just and true. And as such, far different from the man he called Father.
Daemon Targaryen had been a force to be reckoned with. A man of light and darkness in equal measure. As the saying goes, when a Targaryen is born, the Gods flip a coin. With the birth of the Rogue Prince, the coin had landed on its edge for the first time. During the war, he had been the most feared man in the Realm. Knights quivered in fear at the mere mention of his name.
Aemond One-Eye had been a fool to demand that his uncle face him…for that is what he did. And the last rider of the mighty Vhagar had met the blade of Dark Sister, and paid for his dull-witted words with his life.
As the son of Daemon Targaryen, Viserys had come in the possession of Dark Sister, but he was barely able to use it. Gedmund had seen him struggling in the yards, eager to prove that he could be just as mighty in combat, as he was at the table in the Small Council chambers. Alas, the Lord Hand had yet to impress his subjects.
"I believe it is time you end this farce, Prince Viserys, and break me loose from these chains. I believe I have more than proven my innocence. Free me now before any hope of peace with my House is lost. I will make sure my nephew hears of this. And he has powerful friends, my lord."
Viserys remained unphased by the man's words. The harsh glow of the single flaming torch resting on the wall next to him, only added to the ominous look on the prince's face.
Taking a single step forward, Viserys' soft voice seemed to echo in the stone walls.
"You disappoint me, Gedmund."
The man frowned, as he looked up into the prince's eyes, just as the sound of an unsheathed sword ringed inside the cell.
"My lord?" Gedmund's voice trembled.
"I believed you wiser." Viserys whispered, as he gazed with a look of admiration at the ancestral Valyrian sword.
The blade was impressive. Valyrian steel. Naught but the best. The sword was a testament to the Targaryens' many past victories against their enemies. And now, it would seem as if the sword was calling out for retribution…and the gleam of the blade could only indicate its desire for blood.
Viserys advanced menacingly.
Having regained some of his previous courage, Gedmund snapped, "No. No. You do not have the nerve!"
Viserys tilted his head, his eyes blazing, unspeakable fury overcoming him.
"Don't I?" he asked in a tone of genuine surprise, before he slashed the man's face.
Naught cuts like Valyrian steel.
The women flinched in their nearby cells at the sound of Gedmund Peake's high-pitched scream. The pain was unbearable.
"A man fitting your description was seen lurking in the corridors the day of the tourney. Wrapped in a cloak the colour of orange, proudly displaying the three black castles of Starpike, Dunstonbury and Whitegrove. You make it far too easy for us, Gedmund."
"I did naught to the boy!" he argued.
"Who did?"
When he received no response, Viserys moved quicker and managed to cut off his prisoner's ear.
Gedmund's mouth widened, the pupils of his eyes instantly watering, the injury so great, and the pain so hard to endure that he could no longer make a sound.
"I am not going to lie. I find myself taking great pleasure from this. You have been a pain in my own arse for a long time, Gedmund. Removing you from the Small Council proved to be quite the challenge…but I am used to getting what I want."
Lowering himself on his knees so as he could be face to face with him, Viserys told him, "Whether you killed my poor nephew or not, matters not at this point, Ser Gedmund. You are a threat to my family. You make the Queen herself uncomfortable with your presence. I have been informed of your…generous gazes."
Still focused on his pain, Gedmund could not respond, as more tears fell from his eyes.
"You believe my family weakened, as we are fewer in number and hold but one dragon. The fault may be mine own. Since I returned from captivity, I strived to ensure peace and prosperity in the Realm, above the interests of my House. And in doing so, I have given you and the rest of your lickspittles reason to defy the Crown and attack my family. You believed my mercy to be a sign of feebleness."
Viserys wiped the blood off of his sword carefully, making certain that it was as good as new, before sheathing it. As tasteful as traitor's blood may be for it, it did not sit well for his father's sword to be tainted as such.
"I will discover my nephew's killer. And when that day comes…the wrath of the Gods above shall be the least of their worries. Make no mistake…House Targaryen remains House Targaryen." Viserys warned, signalling for someone outside the cell.
"I believe you know my good companions. Lord Kermit and Ser Oscar Tully." Viserys presented the two men who walked inside.
Consciousness finally seemed to return to Ser Gedmund, as he gazed upon the men who used to be called 'The Lads', alongside Benjicot Blackwood.
Heroes to the Dragon Queen's cause, the three of them were. And proudly so they remained.
Straightening his back, and cracking his neck, Viserys explained, "I am to leave you with men willing to teach you the art of loyalty. I bid you a good night."
Turning around, Viserys walked swiftly out of the cell, the look in his eyes most ardent.
He stopped when seeing the figure reflected in the flames. The darkness of the black cells could not hide her godly beauty.
Long silver-gold tresses. Skin as pale as the snow in the North, eyes the colour of rich lilac, matching his own.
The Princess was in her usual white nightshift. No jewels adorning her person. She looked to be as pure and alluring as the Gods had made her.
She was accompanied by Ser Joffrey Staunton of the Kingsguard, as was expected. Mere moments after their family's tragedy, Viserys had assigned a knight to each of his family members. Sworn shields for them all, as had once been the custom.
Visenya's mouth parted slightly at the sight of him…her eyes widening when she noticed the blood on his robes.
"Viserys."
"You are not to be here, sister. Leave!" Viserys exclaimed, nodding to Ser Joffrey, who looked between them quite uncomfortably.
Visenya flinched at the sound of his voice, never having heard it so. This was the darkness she always feared was consuming him. The darkness he kept hidden from the world. Baelor's death must have cracked open his soul…revealing both the good and the bad.
But she cared not for that. It was not why she was there.
"You truly have taken leave of your wits. I demand that you release Lady Elinda in my care!" Visenya exclaimed, allowing her words to echo in the silence of their surroundings.
Viserys remained unphased by her command, his eyes blazing just as hotly with fury and desire for vengeance, as he stepped close to her.
Ser Joffrey did not dare attempt to stop him, sworn shield of the Princess or not.
"Mayhaps you've not heard me." Viserys hissed, coming face to face with her.
"I've heard you, and I care not! I want Elinda out of that cell now!" the young princess insisted, crossing her hands over her chest.
Meeting her firm gaze, Viserys whispered, "No one is released until the killer confesses."
"The killer may not be among them."
"That is for me to decide…and for my blade."
To prove a point, Viserys made a move to touch the sword at his hip…almost in a caress.
Visenya looked from his sword to his piercing eyes, her bottom lip starting to tremble as she started feeling a chill down her spine.
Even so, she bravely confronted him with a known truth, "You are not the King. Aegon is."
"Our brother has succumbed to past wounds. He will not speak to anyone, not even to me. He refuses to leave his chambers. As he is incapacitated, all authority now lies with me…and I command you to go back to your own rooms." he reasoned, and for a moment, Visenya believed that he made a move to unsheathe his sword.
The look in his eyes was one she did not recognize. Surely, she had seen him stern, calculated plenty of times before. But never quite like this. Fire was consuming him. Rage. Vengeance. Hatred. And from the way he was gripping Dark Sister…a thirst for blood.
Unable to stand the unknown before her, Visenya tried a softer approach, hoping that she would be once more be speaking to the man she knew deep down, had become much fonder to her than a brother ever could.
"Viserys, you frighten me. What are you doing?", she asked softly, which only managed to snap something inside him.
He advanced towards her rapidly, and Visenya squealed in surprise, as she backed away and hit the cold wall behind her.
"What am I doing? WHAT AM I DOING?!" Viserys exclaimed, almost like a mad man.
Visenya had time to see her sworn shield attempt to do what had been expected of him for the first time…but Viserys' arms blocked her view, as he pressed his hands on either side of her head, blocking her between the coldness of the stone wall and his heat generating body.
She gasped, when feeling his warm lips press against her ear, as he whispered, "I am acting the Hand I should have been from the start. I was to protect this family…my House. And what happened on this day…it is mine own fault. For my carelessness. For allowing myself to be distracted. For foolishly believing that the Realm had had enough of war. But the war is anew, sweet sister. It has commenced once more…just not on the battlefield. Not quite yet."
Taking in a few deep breaths, Visenya closed her eyes and let her lips brush the side of his cheek lightly, as she replied, "Baelor's death is not any fault of yours."
Viserys let his mind cloud for a moment, at the feel of those rose petals he could only dream of tasting. The thought had plagued him for days now, especially during Small Council meetings. But he could not make that same mistake once more. He could not allow his mind to wander. Distraction was the reason they were in their most vulnerable state.
"Then whose? Hm? Mayhaps you yourself admit to be at fault, sister."
Pulling her hand back, Visenya slapped him hard across the cheek, managing to push him away from the wall she was now using for support.
"How dare you?!" she hissed.
This time she was the one advancing towards him.
"How dare you imply I would harm someone from my family?!" Visenya demanded of him.
The slap did not seem to pull Viserys out of his trance. Rubbing his jaw, he told her, "That is far from what I was suggesting."
"Then how am I at fault?"
"Because you are far more treacherous than I give you credit for, Visenya. You look the part of a Valyrian Goddess, your spirit is that of a dragon, and yet your mind…your mind is that of a snake." he told her, bitterly, not seeming to regret any word of his bold statement.
"You mistake me for yourself, brother!" Visenya immediately counteracted, though she could already feel her eyes stinging.
"You do naught but flaunt your pretty dresses and seduce green boys to get what you wish for. You have been colluding with the Tyrell boy when you ought to have been beside your family. You have left Daenaera to fend for herself. FOR HERSELF!"
"DO NOT SHOUT AT ME!" Visenya yelled out, making every single prisoner in those cells flinch.
Ignoring her outburst, Viserys unsheathed Dark Sister, pointing the blade towards her, asking, "Who is to protect our family, Visenya?! Who is to be the pillar of strength if I do not do what is necessary?!"
He took another step closer to her, hissing, "Who among us shall die next? Tell me!"
Visenya refused to look the way he wielded that sword. She would not let herself be frightened by him any longer.
"I do not care for your choice of words. I care for the woman who has been our mother's companion since she was but a girl. For the woman who helped our mother give birth to Aegon, to you…and to me. She is worthy of our blind trust. She has more than earned it. And you will release her."
"No."
His voice was not only stern, but definite.
Shaking her head in defeat, Visenya finally released the long streams of tears on her porcelain skin, turning around and demanding Ser Joffrey to take her back to her chambers.
She refused to spare her mad brother a final glance, hence missing the regret which passed his features.
…
"Your Grace, you must calm yourself!" Grand Maester Alford exclaimed, as the maids held the Queen to her bed.
Daenaera Velaryon was in a state nobody had ever seen her in. Once described as the 'light' around Court, the 'little queen' now seemed only to fuel the darkness and anguish that plagued the family.
Tears streaming down her face, Daenaera was shaking her head rapidly, trying to break free of the maids' grip, but to no avail.
"Daenaera. Daenaera, please." Rhaena begged next to her, as she stepped forward, took the place of one of the maids sitting by her bed, and took her hand in hers.
Her soft voice proved to be soothing, and for one moment, Daenaera stopped thrashing, as Grand Maester Alford successfully administered essence of nightshade for her restlessness.
"Mama?"
A small voice was heard from the doors of the chambers.
Baela, Rhaena, Alyn and Corwyn watched as Prince Daeron, of only two years of age, wobbled to the edge of the bed, eager to be with his mother.
It was most unfortunate to see how Daenaera's eyes widened, and she started thrashing once more, turning her head away from little Daeron and letting out another high-pitched scream of pain, startling the poor boy.
"Get him out of here." Alyn told his wife.
"He's her son. I am not going to do that." Baela argued.
Rolling his eyes at her constant defiance, Alyn reasoned, "Does it seem to you that his presence is doing her any good? And you think that seeing his mother in such a distressed state is aiding the Prince? The boy has suffered plenty. Do not argue and for once, do as I say."
Baela pursed her lips, and looked on with shock as Daenaera rejected her own son. The pain of losing a child was understandable to her, but what Baela could not understand was why Daenaera was so insistent on pushing away her only other living child. She herself could never imagine pushing Laena away, regardless of the losses she would suffer.
Upon hearing the whimper coming from little Daeron's mouth, as the pain of rejection hit him, Baela intervened, but not before telling her husband, "For Daenaera. Not because what you say matters to me."
By the time Baela took Daeron in her arms, the essence of nightshade seemed to have finally provided the necessary effects on Daenaera, and the 'little queen' was resting peacefully.
But now, the sounds of muffled cries which could be heard were that of Prince Daeron, who was being carried away by the Lady of Driftmark. Ser Edmund Warrick of the Kingsguard followed close behind, having been charged with ensuring the safety of the heir to the throne at any cost.
Members of the City Watch had remained stationed at every entrance inside the Red Keep. Though not nearly as powerful or influential as they had once been under the leadership of the greatest Lord Commander the City Watch ever had, Prince Daemon Targaryen, the Gold Cloaks remained ruthless, and carried out the orders of the Crown faithfully. Not even the greater lords of the Realm had the courage to speak up against the imposed captivity.
On this day, the orders given to the Gold Cloaks were simple: guard the royal family, and keep a watchful eye on the guests they have allowed into their home. For one of them had murdered a babe of barely one name day…and would very likely not stop there.
…
The Great Hall was empty the following morrow. The Gold Cloaks had been instructed where to move the courtiers and representatives of the Houses who had come for the tourney. Although treated like 'guests' inside the Red Keep, the lords and ladies were no fools. They were prisoners…much like those who had been thrown in the dark cells for questioning.
On this day, King Aegon had finally emerged from his chambers, looking every bit as solemn and lifeless as was expected. He had yet to speak…to anyone. His body was now there, in the Great Hall, on the Iron Throne, but his mind was elsewhere. Thankfully, he would not be alone.
Prince Viserys, Princess Visenya, Lord Alyn and Ser Corwyn all found themselves in the Great Hall at the surprising summons of Lord Loreon Lannister.
Visenya felt her heart beating madly when Ser Joffrey Staunton had informed her. For what possible motive would Loreon Lannister request an audience with the King and his family in the throne room, other than for a chance to confess?
"Loreon Lannister?" Visenya had whispered with disbelief.
The Gods above knew how much Visenya despised the main supporters of the Greens, the Lannisters being among them. But Loreon Lannister was not like his mother and father. He was more inclined to do good and repent for his House's mistakes.
"It couldn't be him." Visenya whispered to Corwyn once the throne room. She was standing beside her good-brother, on one side of the Iron Throne, were Aegon was sitting. Viserys and Alyn joined them soon enough on the other side.
Visenya could feel Viserys' eyes on her, but she refused to meet his gaze. She continued to feel the tremor in her body at what she had witnessed the night before in the black cells. His bloodlust, his rage, his desire for vengeance, had reached whole new limits. She had not been able to recognize him.
She knew that he would never intentionally harm her, but she worried for him…for the darkness that had finally broken loose inside him. Mayhaps keeping her distance would be wise.
Loreon Lannister had entered the throne room only a few moments after. The Kingsguard was well positioned between the family and anyone who would seek to harm them even further. The Gold Cloaks had not loosened their grip and continued to maintain order around the Red Keep.
The lion of Casterly Rock, of nine and ten years of age, was standing proudly and firmly before them, as any Lannister would. But Visenya could see the sadness and worry reflected in his eyes.
As if he had to summon his whole strength, Loreon presented them with an empty flask. Ser Corwyn had immediately stepped forward to take it from him and inspect it. Upon smelling the contents, he immediately recognized the essence of Sweetsleep…what had killed Prince Baelor.
"You confess?" Viserys' voice rung out clearly in the hall.
Lowering his gaze in shame, Loreon responded, "No, my Lord Hand. I found this under my mother's bed."
"Ser Raynard!" Viserys snapped at once and with a nod, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard departed the Great Hall, understanding what was asked of him.
The remaining party present in the throne room remained stoic, in complete disbelief of what this woman had managed to accomplish…right under their noses. Johanna Lannister had been known to be strategic and calculating. After her husband's death, she had successfully kept the Greyjoys at bay, and prevented the complete destruction of Lannisport.
However, years after the war, Johanna had slowly but surely succumbed to madness…and a woman's madness had never been regarded too seriously by anyone in the Realm. No one ever regarded a mad woman as a threat. No one would ever believe that a woman whose wits had left her would succeed in murdering a prince of the blood. Given free reign about the Red Keep on a day of celebration, when everyone was distracted, had been a most horrid mistake.
No one believed that Alicent Hightower, in her madness, would ever go so far as to attempt to manipulate her granddaughter into killing her husband, so as she could take back the throne she coveted. And yet, it had happened.
The silence in the throne room which followed, gave the Lord of Casterly Rock reason to worry…as it should have.
Raising his eyes from the ground, Loreon stepped closer to the throne, his voice quivering, "Your Grace…"
As soon as he moved, however, the remaining members of the Kingsguard were fast to put themselves between him and the throne. Even so, Loreon's pleas to the King mattered not. Aegon may have been perched on that seat, but his mind was not there.
"You denounce your own mother, Lord Loreon?" Viserys asked suspiciously, putting himself in front of the Iron Throne, as though to shield his brother from the young man's gaze.
"My Lord Hand…this has been the hardest thing I ever had to do…"
"Then why do it at all? You expect us to believe that you would betray your own mother in such a way? Condemn her? You do understand the penalty for murder, do you not?" Alyn exclaimed, raising his eyebrow, matching Viserys' suspicion.
"I do." Loreon stated firmly, refusing to look the Lord of Driftmark in the eye.
"How are we to know that it wasn't you…or anyone else who would seek to do our family harm?" Viserys persisted.
"There is naught I can do to prove myself. I have but my words…and what I have presented you. My mother is unwell, my lord. I consider myself responsible for the murder of the small prince. I should have never brought her to King's Landing…especially when knowing of the hatred she possesses for your family. I have given her the chance to harm you."
Pressing his hands together, Loreon begged, "I ask for your forgiveness…and for mercy for my mother. Her madness has clouded her judgement. In her mind, the year is still one hundred and thirty after Conquest."
Corwyn, as the Master of Laws, turned to Viserys and told him, "The crow cage is what I would suggest!"
For the crimes which included theft, rape or murder, the crow cages were designed so as to prolong the suffering of the person responsible, before the Stranger came to take them away. They were to be stripped of their clothing, placed within very narrow cages and left exposed in the sun without food, water or shelter. Whereas these cages were normally used for men who would better endure it, there was no law which stated that a woman could not be punished in the same manner…especially when the crime she had committed was of such great extent.
In that moment, Ser Raynard Ruskyn returned to the Great Hall, with a few Gold Cloaks at his side. He was holding Johanna Lannister firmly by the arm.
The woman immediately began raving as a mad woman would about the act which she perceived as justice for the deaths of the children which had belonged to the usurper and his sister-wife.
Visenya was shocked. She watched, wide eyed, as the woman confessed to the murder of the babe, unafraid of the possible consequences. With her confession before dozens of witnesses, there would be no need for a trial…and the punishment could already be delivered.
The Lord of Casterly Rock once again, begged for mercy.
With Aegon deep in his troubling thoughts, the administrator of the proper sanction was to be his Hand and brother, Viserys.
Clearing his throat, the Lord Hand paced in front of Johanna Lannister, as though he was the lion and she was the prey. No. In this case, he was the dragon, ready to engulf the toothless lioness in his flames for her treason.
"A life for a life…though it remains unfair to believe that your own life is worth more than that of my nephew, Lady Johanna. Whilst Ser Corwyn wishes for extreme torment to befall your person inside a crow cage…I shall not subject a woman to the horrors of such a punishment. My darkness consumes me these days, but I refuse to let it spread so far. Your death shall be swift, by axe. Beheading at dusk…in the name King Aegon, Third of His Name."
Johanna Lannister was immediately taken away by the Gold Cloaks, and her continued rantings fell on death ears.
"YOU SHALL ROT IN THE SEVEN HELLS! YOUR WHOLE FAMILY SHALL PERISH!" were the last words she screamed before silence once again befell the Great Hall.
All eyes were on Johanna's son, who had not even flinched at his mother's actions. He was acting as though this was precisely what he was expecting…and what he was hoping for.
Sure, the young man asked for mercy for his mother…and yet not once did he beg the King or the Lord Hand to spare her life. Not once.
It was no secret that Lord Loreon had not been able to rule at Casterly Rock as he saw fit ever since he took the helm from his mother. For the Lady Johanna remained mighty and proud, and was more than willing to use her influence to restart a war which others had hoped to forget. Whilst her son strived for peace, Johanna wanted vengeance.
With her gone, Loreon Lannister was to be Lord of Casterly Rock in more than just name only…and both Viserys and Alyn were certain that this is what the young man had been waiting for.
Even so, no matter the motive…the killer had been discovered.
Turning to the Lord Commander, Viserys instructed, "Ser Raynard, you may release all the prisoners from the black cells. You are to address a formal apology for the nurse maids, the stable boy, the squires…as well as the Lady Elinda Massey. Compensation on behalf of the Crown shall be granted, of course."
At the mention of Elinda's name, Visenya's eyes met Viserys'. She was eager to embrace the woman who had acted like a mother to her…yet she did not know how Viserys would ever be able to look her in the eye as he did before. She also did not know if Elinda would ever look at him in the same way ever again.
Too much had come to pass.
"Ser Gedmund Peake is not guilty of this crime…but he remains a threat to the Crown. He is hereby banished from Court. He is to return to Starpike and remain there." Viserys concluded his instructions.
…
As ordered, the execution was carried out in the partial darkness between night and day. Folk had gathered, including the courtiers and the lords and ladies kept inside the Keep.
They watched with shocked expressions as the once proud Lady Regent of Casterly Rock displayed a sickness that she would never be able to overcome. Her eyes moved about maddeningly as she was finally beginning to comprehend that these were to be the last moments of her life.
The sentence was proclaimed by the executioner.
Lady Redwyne let out a frightful gasp, as Johanna attempted to flee. She had started yelling out her curses once more.
The Gold Cloaks intervened, holding her head down on the chopping block.
Whilst some eagerly watched the axe move in swift motion, others turned their faces away.
The only sounds in the courtyard to be heard were that of nearby ravens…as the blood flowed out of the body of the once great lioness of Casterly Rock.
…
Elinda accepted the ale with a small smile.
She was sitting in Visenya's chambers, a cloak tightly wrapped around her, as the maids drew her a bath.
"Princess, you mustn't trouble yourself so." Elinda protested.
"I shall not hear of it. You have been through a great ordeal. You need plenty of rest. But first, a warm bath." Visenya argued, as she joined the woman on her bed.
"It truly has not been that horrid." Elinda stated, but Visenya saw right through her lie.
"What Viserys has done to you is unforgivable."
"He has given me his apologies personally…and he is being most generous to me and my family."
"Gold shall not be enough to compensate you for this betrayal."
Taking Visenya's small hand in hers, Elinda whispered, "I do not perceive it so, Princess. Prince Baelor had been murdered…right in the presumed safety of his home. Your brother was right to do as he did. Your family continues to have enemies, despite the war having long since passed us. They have already achieved the unexpected...taking the life of your nephew. And if House Targaryen does not show strength and unity, there shall be more attempts on all your lives which will follow. I myself shall not be spared, because of my eternal loyalty to you and to your brothers."
Visenya considered her wise words for a moment, and then thought back to what Viserys had told her in the black cells the previous night.
"You believe that we have not shown sufficient strength? That through our mercy and desire for peace, we have not inspired fear…and that has given our enemies cause to rise up against us? That is what Viserys thinks."
"I'm afraid he is correct, Princess."
"But we have shown our strength. We have legitimized my mother's reign and amended the law of succession, despite those who opposed the idea."
"Indeed, you have. But…you have done so using the influence and power of the Crown, naught else."
Visenya frowned, shaking her head, not at all understanding what Elinda was implying.
"The Crown relies on power given to it by the Realm. As such, the great lords and ladies could attempt to take that power away, and should there be many who oppose the ruling family, they may very well succeed. No one ever gave power to the Conqueror or his sister-wives, Princess. They took it, and held it through their own advantages."
A look of realization appeared on Visenya's face, as Elinda continued speaking.
"In order to protect yourselves, you and your family must rely not on the power of the Crown, but on the strength of House Targaryen, just as your mother and father have done before you. Other Houses do the same. The Lannisters rely on their gold. The Starks, on their experienced fighters, as well as their vast and secluded land. The Hightowers rely on their close connection to the Faith. What have the Targaryens always been able to rely on?"
"Dragons." Visenya whispered with sadness, understanding mayhaps for the first time, how dire things were for them.
The Hill of Rhaenys still held the remaining stone-cold eggs of her mother's dragon, Syrax. There was little to no chance of any of them ever hatching…and the three full-grown dragons which had survived the war, had not been seen for years.
They did have Morning, yes…but the gentle darling belonging to Rhaena, was naught but a shadow of what had once been the mighty House Targaryen.
…
In the Hour of the Wolf, Visenya strolled the darkened halls of the Red Keep, in naught but her nightshift, as she oft did when her thoughts troubled her. Her discussion with Elinda had given her much to think about.
The only chamber to be lightened by candles was that of the Queen.
Visenya walked over slowly, eager to see what Daenaera was doing at this late hour.
But Daenaera was not the one she saw exiting the chamber. It was Grand Maester Alford, deep in conversation with Viserys.
The quiet voices did not allow Visenya to hear what they were saying, but she did notice the surprised look on Viserys' face.
Once the two realized that they were being watched, they ended their discussion, and Grand Maester Alford returned to the Queen's rooms in silence.
Viserys seemed hesitant to walk towards her. He did not look upset. Concerned, was the word Visenya would choose.
Despite what had happened between them in the black cells, she was beginning to understand his anger. Their family was in danger, and everyone expected him to be the one to do something and protect them all. He was but one man. At the moment, he was more King than his brother was, but what more could he do?
They had allies to help them, of course. But where was the strength of House Targaryen, as Elinda put it?
"Sister." Viserys whispered, once their paths finally crossed.
Visenya crossed her hands over her chest, suddenly feeling all too exposed in her mere nightshift, especially under his intense gaze.
"Has something happened?" she asked, her heart beating loudly at the mere idea that something else was to go wrong for them.
She looked up in time to see Viserys nod and state, "Something has."
Just as she feared.
"Is Daenaera well?" Visenya asked, her eyes wandering rapidly from him to the lightened chambers.
"No, of course not. Grand Maester Alford is uncertain when or even if she may recover from this. And now there is something else that might stand in the way of her recovery."
"What?"
"The Queen is with child." Viserys revealed, and Visenya gasped, uncertain whether she should be pleased or worried.
Instead of exclaiming words of happiness at the thought of Daenaera giving her a new niece or nephew, Visenya could only ask a little too loudly, "Now?!"
The timing couldn't possibly have been worse for such an announcement. Prince Baelor's small body was still inside the walls of the Red Keep, being prepared for the funeral pyre to take place the following morrow.
Aegon was refusing to speak and remained locked in his chambers, whereas the 'little queen' was being kept away from her only other child, Prince Daeron, due to fear for the boy's safety whilst his mother was in such an unrecognizable and distressed state.
"Grand Maester Alford believes that she is at least two moons along." Viserys explained.
"And she has said nothing?"
"She claims she did not know. 'Tis to be a most peculiar pregnancy."
"Has Aegon been told?"
Visenya's question seemed to have made Viserys' eyes darken, his fury slowly overcoming him once more.
"No! You know perfectly well that our brother sees no one!" he snapped at her, and Visenya flinched, starting to rub her arms with worry.
Without another word, Viserys suddenly moved past her, heading quickly in the opposite direction.
"Where are you going?" Visenya called out after him.
"Out! I cannot remain inside these walls for the night." Viserys told her.
Visenya had her suspicions on where he was heading, but she did not wish for confirmation.
Instead, she called out to him, "What can I do? Viserys, please! How can I help you?"
Stopping in his tracks, Viserys turned his head in her direction and instructed, "Look after Daenaera. Make certain that she does not attempt to harm her unborn child."
"Why would she do that?"
"She is unwell, Visenya. She grieves the loss of her son…and according to her maids, Daenaera believes that this new babe in her belly is the Gods' way of making a mockery of her."
Gasping, Visenya shook her head in disbelief. "That cannot be true. She had been blessed."
"It is up to you to make her see that."
With that, Viserys turned around and headed out the doors of the Red Keep, where the Gold Cloaks were still stationed.
A/N: Thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. The emotional roller coaster continues next time.