King's Landing
"I'm going to kill all of them," Maegor declares. Balerion roars in agreement, which makes it more worrisome. Ceryse must absolutely stop Maegor from declaring war on the Faith.
"No, you aren't going to kill all of them," she sighs. "Haven't we gone through this already? You can't kill the Warrior's Sons right after they bend their knees."
"They murdered Aenys!" Maegor yells in frustration, "I swear I'd make them pay!"
"You promised justice. Punishment for Aenys' murderer," Visenya says tiredly, "But there's no one whom we can name responsible. None alive, at the very least."
That's the crux of the matter. On all accounts, Aegonfort collapsed when the Warrior's Sons tried to break through its front gate. Not expecting the castle to crash, the frontline of the attack— the men who were directly responsible— were buried alive.
As the commander of the attack, Ser Damon Morrigen, has perished during the trial of seven, Maegor has already avenged Aenys to the best of his ability. But Maegor won't accept that. Ever since he woke up, he has been crying for blood and vengeance.
"I understand how you feel," Ceryse says emphatically. "You want to make someone pay for Aenys' death. But we need the men of the Faith Militant to maintain the city and, most importantly, to dig up Aenys' body. He's still buried in the ruins of Aegonfort, and we can never return his remains to Alyssa without their manpower."
"In a way, it's for the best that Aegonfort broke down during a war. Imagine if it had happened in peacetime, when we were all inside the castle! We'd all be dead then." Visenya shudders. "Aenys sacrificed himself to let us know that we need to build better, sturdier walls, with the help of someone knowledgeable, instead of following Aegon's fancy the way we did."
Maegor narrows his eyes. "Mother, are you saying it's father's fault that Aenys died?"
Ceryse halts her breath. This is a serious accusation. However, Visenya doesn't falter; she meets Maegor's question with a sharp nod. "It is his fault… or do you want me to say it's your fault, Son? Don't forget who caused this mess in the first place."
Maegor ground his teeth. "My fault. Mine." Fuming, he paces around Balerion's back, the dragon flinching and growling uncomfortably. Finally, Maegor turns and glares at Visenya. "What will you have me do then, Mother?"
"Go to Oldtown and clear the issue up with the High Septon once and for all," Visenya orders, staring down at her son as Vhagar flies higher. "I'll handle things in King's Landing. You go to the Reach with Ceryse and Alys. With some members of the Warrior's Sons escorting you, there won't be any more attacks."
Maegor frowns deeply, scowling, clearly making an effort to stop himself from cursing Visenya. He despises the idea of making peace with the Faith… but even Maegor must realise that it's necessary. The Targaryens cannot hope to win a war against the Faith of Seven, the religion that the majority of Westeros worship. Sooner or later, Maegor will come around.
So instead, Ceryse addresses Visenya. "Your Grace, will you be safe in the city?"
Visenya snorts. "As safe as you were last month. The men here recognise Maegor's victory in the trial, which means they respect my authority as the queen mother… And if anything happens, I can still fly to Dragonstone."
"…I'll go to Oldtown," Maegor finally says, still scowling, "But I want the Faith Militant put to work immediately. The ground clear of ruins, Aenys' body recovered."
"It will be done," Visenya promises. "And Ceryse? We will need funds for the new castle. See if you can get the Faith to pay for it."
"What?" Ceryse is completely flabbergasted. They just barely managed to appease the Warrior's Sons in King's Landing, and now Visenya wants to extort money out of the Faith? "But…"
"The Faith owes us," Visenya says in her most convincing tone. "We were attacked under a false belief that Maegor is sinful. It's only fair that the Faith pays to repair the damage they made."
"I guess that makes sense," Ceryse mumbles. She doubts her ability to make the High Septon see it the same way, but it won't hurt to try…
Maegor flashes a bloodthirsty smile. "I'll ensure that the Faith pays."
Ceryse doesn't like the sound of that.
—
Oldtown
"Sister," Ceryse's brother calls from the city walls, staring down at her. "Ceryse! Is— is that really you? Are you unharmed?"
"Safe and unharmed!" Ceryse calls back, her voice loud for everyone to hear. "Open the gates, Martyn! House Targaryen comes here to make peace with the Faith!"
The Lord of Hightower doesn't hesitate. Ceryse watches as he barks orders, ignoring those who try to advise him otherwise. Minutes later, the gate creaks open. "Welcome to Oldtown," Martyn Hightower bows, "…Your Grace."
Reluctance lingers in his voice, but he still acknowledges Maegor as king. Ceryse sighs in relief. It's a good sign—though his attitude may shift once he sees Alys…
Maegor stands tall on Balerion as the dragon flies forward to greet Martyn. "Lord Hightower," Maegor says, "I hope you don't think I'll let your sister come to harm. She's my beloved wife."
"There are rumors to the contrary," Martyn replies coolly. "But I'm glad to see they're false." He pulls Ceryse into a quick hug. The two siblings exchange brief pleasantries before Martyn's eyes narrow, locking on the woman behind them. "Is this…?"
"Alys Harroway," Alys curtsies deeply, her knuckles tight around the hem of her dress. "Lord Hightower—"
"We'll talk inside," Martyn interrupts, his earlier smile fading into a scowl. "The Seven knows we have much to discuss."
To Ceryse's surprise, Martyn leads them directly to the Starry Sept. "Aren't we going home first?" she asks.
"Hightower isn't your home anymore, Ceryse," Martyn replies without looking back, his voice firm. "It hasn't been since you took the vows of a septa. Your home is with the Faith... and the High Septon will want to see you right away." Finally nudging his head towards her, he adds, "Besides, you've got the Warrior's Sons with you. They need to report back too."
Ceryse can't argue. When they reach the plaza outside the Starry Sept, an anxious knight approaches—her younger brother, Morgan Hightower.
"Brother... Ceryse," he pauses, eyeing Maegor and Alys before narrowing his gaze like Martyn had. He doesn't comment. "The Most— the High Septon is waiting for you."
"Good," Maegor says. "I'm ready to meet with him and settle this."
Morgan leads them into the Sept. The Starry Sept looks just as Ceryse remembers—its marble walls, the sweet scent in the air. Maybe Martyn's right, the Faith is more her home than Hightower.
But at this point, her home isn't Hightower or the Starry Sept. It's Dragonstone.
And it's Dragonstone's interest she'll be looking out for in this meeting.
They arrive in a room that's suspiciously unfamiliar to Ceryse. It's small, with walls covered in colorful depictions of the Seven… at least, that's what she thinks they are. The room is dark, lit only by a few dim candles. The only thing clearly visible is a bed in the middle of the room, on which the High Septon lies.
"Ceryse," he rasps, his voice weak. "You've come back."
"Your Holiness..." Ceryse falters. When she prepared for this confrontation, she expected her uncle to be energetic and full of fury, not lying in bed, frail and old. Uncle has been around for longer than King Aegon, Ceryse suddenly realises.
She's been away too long.
"Sit," the High Septon commands. Ceryse does so, pulling over the only chair in the room to her uncle's bedside. Balerion lands in her lap uninvited, nearly knocking over a candle. Maegor pats the dragon's back, and Balerion lets out a burst of blue flames.
No one reacts— everyone knows the dragon's healing power. The High Septon sighs, his eyes looking less swollen than a minute before. "Your Grace… my thanks..." He then looks around the room briefly, his eyes lock on— Alys, who is hiding in a corner and desperately avoiding attention. "But the Faith still won't accept you taking another wife."
"As you must have heard, I was found innocent of the Faith's accusations in a trial of seven." Maegor crosses his arms, glaring at the High Septon. "But if that still doesn't satisfy the Faith, perhaps you'd like a full explanation of what happened."
He glances at Ceryse, and she begins to explain. It's a brief recount, with Maegor adding occasional details, and Alys nodding along, confirming Ceryse's words.
Just as the story nears its end, Ceryse hears shouting from outside. "This is ridiculous!" a man's voice, followed by a chorus of agreement.
"But it concerns a Targaryen. Of course it's ridiculous. A Targaryen's outrageous, but never malicious. We've met Aegon and his sisters, even Aenys—why would this Maegor be any different?" a woman asks. "And it's a septa speaking for him. A septa won't lie. She has no reason to."
"Ser Morgan, open the drapes," the High Septon says. Morgan walks over and pulls— the curtains that Ceryse thought were the walls fall open, revealing the actual room they are in.
They are in the middle of the Sept, with the starry ceiling stretching high above them— the "ceiling" Ceryse previously saw was merely part of the drapes. In the hall, hundreds of septons and septas sit or stand, all watching. Ceryse understands at once—they are the Most Devout, gathered to hear her tale… and to elect the candidates of next High Septon when her uncle dies.
"I might be the voice of the Seven, but I'm not long for this world," the High Septon says, half to Ceryse and half to the Most Devout, "I want my successor, whoever the Seven chooses, to hear the full story from those involved."
"I'll gladly tell it to the whole Most Devout if you wish, Your Holiness," Ceryse sighs.
"Nonsense," the High Septon waves her off. "You're always too shy to speak in public." Struggling, he turns in his bed to face the assembly. "Brothers and sisters, you've heard it from Septa Ceryse. Now you'll hear my judgment."
"I declare Maegor Targaryen free of all accusations of sin. The Faith will recognize him as the rightful King of Westeros, and his only wife, Ceryse Hightower, the rightful Queen."
"Alys—" Maegor begins angrily.
But the High Septon isn't finished. "Alys Harroway, the foolish maid, should be banished from Westeros. Essos has a place for her, I hear."
Maegor silences himself. Alys bows, murmuring her thanks. The High Septon scans the room. "Do you all agree with my decision?"
There's a murmur of assent throughout the room. If there are people who are unhappy with the High Septon's judgment, they do not show it.
"Then it is done, as the Seven wills. The Faith Militant will stand down, and the various lords and kings in Westeros will acknowledge Targaryen rule once more," the High Septon says, smiling at Ceryse. She wants to smile too, relieved the misunderstanding is settled, but Visenya's task still looms over her. If she doesn't act, Maegor will.
If she lets Maegor act, it might mean another war.
"If you'll permit me, Your Holiness..." Ceryse says carefully. "There's one more matter. Aegonfort has collapsed under the Warrior's Sons' attack."
The High Septon frowns. "I know. A tragic mistake. May King Aenys and the innocent souls with him rest in the Seven Heavens."
"We need to rebuild King's Landing. Since the Warrior's Sons are responsible for the destruction of Aegonfort… perhaps the Faith should contribute to its reconstruction?"
Her suggestion sparks an uproar among the Most Devout. "You want to extort us?" "Why should we pay for a poorly built castle?" "This isn't what donations are for!"
She flinches at the noise. The High Septon calls for silence, his voice frail. Morgan shakes a bell, but the protests persist... until Balerion roars, silencing the room.
"Much better," Maegor says. "Godsworn of the Most Devout. A few decades ago, when my father began building King's Landing, the Faith generously donated a large sum. Most of it went into Aegonfort. Unfortunately, the castle that should've been our home ended up killing my brother instead."
Raising his voice, Maegor shouts, "Aenys is dead because of the Faith! Shouldn't the Faith pay blood money for it? In the spirit of peace, I haven't killed any of the Warrior's Sons, except those who died in my trial. Now it's time for the Faith to make amends!"
His words ignite a new wave of debate—until the High Septon raises a trembling hand. "For the death of King Aenys, the Faith will help finance the rebuilding of King's Landing... on the condition that no future Valyrians may marry more than one spouse at a time."
"Done," Maegor replies quickly. "We have a deal?"
The High Septon hesitates, glancing at the Most Devout before nodding. "Yes, we do."
Maegor nods solemnly, jumping off Balerion to walk towards the High Septon, extending a hand. The High Septon carefully takes it with shivering fingers, shaking it thrice times.
It's a sealed deal.
—
A few months later…
Ceryse hadn't expected to stay in Oldtown for so long, but one event followed another: a ceremony where the High Septon publicly blesses and anoints Maegor as king, then the High Septon passed away, and they stayed to attend his funeral. Afterward, they witnessed the new High Septon being chosen, and he gave Maegor his approval as well…
It's a blessing, though, as the Faith's opinion of Maegor has improved over the past few months, as they've gotten to know him. Maegor, understandably, hasn't fully forgiven the Faith for Aenys' death, but time seems to have softened his anger.
Yet there's one thing that worries Ceryse: Visenya hasn't responded to any of the ravens they sent to King's Landing or Dragonstone. Ceryse has sent several letters updating her, and surely, Visenya would want to reply?
The answer comes unexpectedly in the form of Tyanna arriving in Oldtown, carrying a small bundle.
"Tyanna?" Ceryse says, surprised. They left her behind in King's Landing, as she claimed Maegor had stabilised, and bringing a foreign woman with them might have caused trouble with the Faith. "What are you doing here?"
Tyanna shakes her head weakly, her face somber. "I had to bring the news myself."
She unwraps the bundle. Inside— is the lifeless corpse of Visenya Targaryen.
"Mother!" Maegor screams. "How? Why?" Balerion roars in grief, sharing his pain.
"It's the shock," Tyanna whispers.
"Shock? What shock?" Ceryse asks, confused. The shock of making peace with the Faith? That doesn't make sense. Something else must have happened.
Tyanna gestures for them to come closer and speaks softly, "When I was at Dragonstone with Queen Visenya... A Valyrian boy on a silver dragon took Queen Alyssa, shouting that he would soon take what's rightfully his."
Ceryse gasps. "That's…"
"Aegon," Maegor growls. He's right, Ceryse knows that it could only be Aegon. But why? Why did Aegon do this?
Did he not realize that Maegor would return everything to him, as soon as he asked?
Tyanna continues, "Then a girl on a blue dragon appeared and took Prince Jaehaerys and Princess Alysanne with her. Queen Visenya tried to chase them, but witnessing her family taken before her eyes must have been a great shock. She fell off Vhagar, just a few meters in the air. I caught her… but she was no longer breathing at that point."
"Aegon. Rhaena. They…" Maegor stares at his mother's lifeless form. "They killed my mother."
Indirectly, Ceryse wants to add, but looking at Maegor she knows there's no use saying it. Maegor knows perfectly well that it's an accident. Yet…
"We need to find them," Maegor hisses, "Now."
—
The Gods Eye
"Aegon!" Maegor cries as Balerion soars through the sky, unseen but swift. If Ceryse blinks, she'll lose track of him. She stands by the lakeside, rain pouring down her face, eyes wide open, determined not to look away.
She has to watch. This may be the only thing she can do.
They've been chasing Aegon for weeks, moving through the Riverlands. Somehow, he's convinced half of the river lords and some of the West to rally to his cause, amassing a large army. Maegor's forces are far smaller—a handful of Warrior's Sons and some levies Ceryse's brother provided. But that doesn't matter. Maegor has said time and again, We didn't come here to fight a war.
All he wants is to find Aegon and Rhaena.
And now, the moment has come. Maegor spots Quicksilver, a gleaming silver bulb above the massive army, and charges forward with Balerion. Aegon must be eager to face him, for Quicksilver is faster than Balerion, closing in on the sky above Ceryse.
Perhaps there's still a chance for peace, Ceryse thinks. Aegon's army hasn't attacked them, despite the difference in numbers.
Or maybe it's the distance—Aegon's army is still far off. Or perhaps they've realized that the only fight that matters is the one in the sky.
It will decide everything.
"Uncle Maegor!" Aegon shouts. "You finally show yourself! Why did you do it… Why did you kill my father and usurp his crown?!"
"I killed your father?" Maegor growls, fury in his voice. "You killed my mother, Aegon! You and Rhaena! Where is she? Why isn't she with you?"
"She's protecting our family," Aegon hisses, his voice low but clear. "You won't find her, or my mother, or Jaehaerys or Alysanne. They're safe."
"Safe?" Maegor spits. "There's no place safer than Dragonstone! You're a fool, Aegon. I saved House Targaryen, and you repaid me by kidnapping your mother and siblings!" Balerion roars, a deafening sound that forces Quicksilver to retreat. Even Aegon looks taken aback.
"You... you saved our house? This is a lie!" Aegon yells. "You caused all this! You married another woman, made the Faith declare war on you, then ran off to Essos, leaving my father to take the fall. Now you come here with the Faith Militant… you just tricked the Faith into doing your dirty work!"
His voice is loud enough for the Warrior's Sons to hear, and they shout at the hovering Quicksilver, protesting Aegon's accusations. Maegor is no less enraged. "Your timeline doesn't make sense, Aegon! I went to Essos before the Faith declared war on us. If I knew what would happen... if I'd known Aenys would die, I never would have left!"
Maegor locks eyes with Aegon. "I would never harm Aenys. He's my brother! I'd have returned everything to the two of you if you just asked!"
Aegon stares back. "Everything?"
"The kingship, the capital. All of it. I never wanted to be king." Maegor growled, a frustrated sound, "If you two had been at Dragonstone when your father died, I'd have gladly supported you! It's only because you weren't there that I temporarily took the throne! Didn't Alyssa tell you about our agreement?"
Aegon seems unsure, his head hangs down as Quicksilver hovers. It's too far to tell, but Ceryse feels that he looks pale. "She did mention something... about you taking the throne to defeat the Faith... but I thought—"
"You can't even trust your own mother?" Maegor snaps. "This proves you're unfit to be king! Now tell me, where are Rhaena, Jaehaerys, and Alysanne? We'll see if any of them are better suited to rule than you."
Ceryse grits her teeth. Maegor has gone too far. Aegon, who was teetering on the edge of belief, now shakes his head violently. "You... you're going to disinherit me! You never meant to keep your promise! Why should I trust you? Never. Never!"
"Foolish child—" Maegor's words lose their power. Aegon screams, Quicksilver shrieks, and suddenly, a volley of white fireballs are blasted towards Balerion.
The older dragon is caught off guard. He yelps in pain as several of the fireballs strike, smoke rising from his body. He opens his mouth wide—
"Aegon— Balerion, don't!" Maegor cries, but it's too late. In a furious retaliatory strike, Balerion breathes a massive fireball, engulfing Quicksilver and Aegon in flames.
Quicksilver lets out an agonized scream that shakes Ceryse to her core. She presses her hands to her ears, but nothing can block the sound. It's not just her. The Hightower levies, the knights of the Warrior's Sons, Aegon's distant army— be it pitchforks or swords, all are dropping their weapons to protect their ears.
The rain cannot wash away the fire, and Quicksilver's dying scream pierces the storm.
Maegor rushes forward with Balerion, intent on saving Aegon. Still screaming, Aegon and Quicksilver plummet. Smoke clouds the air, but Balerion dives after them, his jaw closing into the smaller dragon—
Then, with a sickening thud, Quicksilver crashes into the lake, dragging Aegon down with her.
Suddenly, the world falls silent. The scream is gone, replaced only by the sound of the rain. Smoke rises from the water, the fading remnants of Quicksilver and Aegon. When it clears, no one will be able to find Aegon.
Ceryse doesn't think, she just moves. She jumps into the lake, the cold water an afterthought. She's already soaked from the rain, so the chill doesn't bother her. She learned to swim as a child in Hightower, and after moving to Dragonstone, she had plenty of opportunity to practice. She can do this.
She has to find Aegon.
She pushes through the waves, fighting to make progress. The knights around her are too heavily armored to follow. Her dress is heavy, but better than their gear. Maegor himself certainly can't swim—none of the Valyrians can.
Ceryse kicks and pulls, determined. She's never swum in such rough weather, but she can't stop. If Aegon dies here, Maegor will be seen as a kinslayer. She won't let that happen. Maegor never meant to kill Aegon.
She forces her eyes open, despite the sting of the water, and pushes onward. Aegon must be nearby. Before she dove, she saw the smoke not far from the shore—
Ceryse would have screamed if she'd been able to. A round head appears in her view, half floating and half sinking. That shape, so perfectly round—it can only be Aegon. She doesn't see Quicksilver anywhere. Perhaps the dragon, heavier than Aegon, has already sunk to the bottom of the lake.
But it doesn't matter. Ceryse never hoped to save Quicksilver, only Aegon. Approaching his tiny body swiftly, Ceryse scopes him up and swims upwards.
"Ceryse!" The first thing she hears out of water is Maegor shouting her name. He's on the lakeside, Balerion hovering above the water. "Why did you—"
"Look... look!" Ceryse chokes, coughing up water. Her lungs burn, her body feels heavy, but she has to show him. "He's—"
—Alive…
But halfway through, she looks down at Aegon. His body is still, his face blackened and unrecognizable. Not a wisp of silver hair remains. His jaw is locked in a silent scream—frozen forever, the marks of a fiery death.
Aegon is dead. Maybe even before he hit the lake.
All she's done... was for nothing.
"Ceryse? Ceryse!" Maegor is calling for her, his small hands shaking her shoulders. But his voice is fading. All sounds are mixing together into a meaningless white noise. Her eyelids flutter, and her body grows heavy.
It's cold.
Oh, I'm fainting again—
—
A/N: Lots of people are dying, huh? This chapter and the next are probably the least funny chapters in this story, with the plot reaching its climax. Maegor's story is always meant to be somewhat dark— when we get to the next era, the tone will be lighter. Hopefully, we'll get there soon!