Chapter 2
A small boat rocked violently as it traversed the Narrow Sea, though for its size, the ship had only a few men on board, including a single woman. Clad in a red dress that hugged her body, she found herself sitting opposite the burnt body of a man.
No. Not a man.
"You!" the man snarled in rage as he looked at the red-haired woman. The fire had rendered his body writhed in pain.
"It was you who plotted against me," he accused angrily, and the red woman did not deny the allegations as he stared at the young Prince in front of her.
"No, I did not have to. The only guilt I bear is that I did not stop it. For you, my Prince, carry in your veins the blood of Kings, not the petty kings that rule over these lands built of the one true King…"
"…The Azor Ahai," the young Prince gasped out, surprising the red woman with her words.
"So, you do know," she said, a glimmer passing through her eyes. She had just found her true purpose—what she had been searching for all these years.
"Of course, I know of it. But you are wrong! I am not the one you seek," he retorted angrily as he looked down at his burnt arms, and he was somewhat horrified by their state.
"No, you are wrong, my Prince," she said with a frown, making the Prince look towards her.
"You are the one, for you have been blessed by the God himself. The fire that merely burnt away your skin was hot enough to melt metal itself," she replied. She saw his eyes flare in rage as he spoke up.
"Burn! Merely burn!" the Prince snarled in rage at the red woman.
"You call this a mere burn! Do you even see the state I am in? It was you who put me in this state! YOU!" he roared, and the fire in the cabin flickered at his rage as if responding to his call.
"I apologize for what you had to go through, my Prince. But it was all necessary to get you away from these lands so you could fulfill your destiny," she said and kneeled down in front of him, much to the Prince's surprise.
"If you wish, I could help you change your form," she uttered, her hands passing over the red jewel flickering brightly on her neck. The prince cut in.
"I have no need for your parlor tricks, Melisandre of Asshai!" His words cut through the cabin, and the whole atmosphere shifted as the red woman's eyes widened at his words.
"You...How do you know that name!" she questioned in a shaky tone as the prince's eyes glinted, for she had yet to say that.
"I know much more than you think."
0000
ELIA MARTELL-282AC
The future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms sat in her solar, lamenting over the future as she thought about just what kind of a future lay for her and her children.
Her husband was dead. Rhaegar Targaryen, the melancholic Prophecy obsessed fool, was dead. His chest caved in by a single blow from the hulking giant that was Rober Baratheon, and with that, any hope of Royal victory had vanished as well.
Many nobles made to abandon the royal cause and rushed to throw in their lot with the rebellion as they saw their victories. Now, with the final battle, their fate was sealed. The King may rule over the capital and seat himself on the Iron Throne yet he was no King. His charisma and sanity were long gone, and now only a fearful group of lickspittles and opportunistic fools surrounded him.
Every day, the whole castle would be filled with screams of men being burnt to death, screams that would shake the foundation of the Red Keep, and the King would laugh at those screams, giving further credence to the nickname coined for him.
The Mad King.
And mad he was. Only it had taken them all too long to see the reality. He had always been mad, and if there was any doubt about that, his actions after the Defiance of Duskendale should have been indication enough.
She would never forget that day. Never, for it was the day she had lost not just one but two of her best friends.
Prince Daemon and his lover Ashara. All three of them had spent a number of years in these very Halls in their youth, growing up together as Ashara and herself had come to the Red Capital to serve as the lady-in-waiting for the Queen.
Daemon was the younger brother, courageous, righteous, and a bit odd in his mannerisms and thinking. He was kinder than Rhaegar. His kindness was born out of genuine care for the small folk rather than a necessity to bolster his own image.
He was a breath of fresh air in this desolate place, always willing to go to any length to bring a smile to their faces. He had been closer to his mother, acting often as a shield for her against the brutality of his own father.
And then tragedy had struck as he had been found complicit by the King in his abduction and had been sentenced. A sham trial, as any she had ever seen in which the guilt had been determined well before, and the trial had become nothing more than a formality.
And then he was gone, and she closed her eyes as she thought of that accursed day. His screams as he was flung into the massive pyre had been gut-wrenching. The court had been shaken by that as well, yet the King had made an example out of anyone who had shown even a shred of sympathy for the departed Prince.
His death had broken her dear friend, who had left the capital on the morn and had never been seen after that. Not till this day.
She had often thought of writing to her yet had never managed to pluck up the courage to do so.
"Mama," a soft, angelic voice cut in through her trance, making her look down at the small bundle of joy slumbering in her arms.
Her little daughter looked at her with those amethyst eyes of her.
"When will Muna come back?" and the question cut through her guts as she gently brushed her hair.
"Why do you ask that?" she questioned. A bright smile appeared on her face as she answered.
"Because Muna promised that he would play with me when he returns, I want to play with Muna," she said rather petulantly, and the look she gave her destroyed her courage to tell her the truth.
The truth is that her Muna will not return.
That he had abandoned them all for that Northern whore.
"Soon, my dear. Soon," she replied with a smile, and the little girl nodded as she wrapped her arms around her doll.
"But you must sleep first, and then when you wake up, Muna will be here," she lied to her, and her eyes widened.
"Really?" she asked excitedly, and she nodded.
"Yes, really. Now, be a good girl and close your eyes so your Muna can come back quickly," she said with a smile, and Rhaenys smiled as she nodded.
"Ok," and with that, she shut her eyes as Elia began to hum a lullaby her own mother had often sung to her and her brothers in their youth.
And as her mouth hummed the tone, she found her mind drifting toward Daemon once more about what he would have done in Rhaegar's place.
When Rhaenys had fallen asleep, she gently skidded off the bed and wrapped a blanket around her daughter.
She slowly made her way out of her room as she questioned the maid about her other child.
"Where is Aegon?" she questioned. She had sent all her lady-in-waiting back to their ancestral home, for she didn't wish for them to share in her fate as a glorified hostage. For that was what she was—a hostage kept in the capital to ensure her brother's support for the Royal cause.
A cause that was losing allies with every passing second.
"He is in the nursery, my lady, and refuses to sleep," replied the maidservant, and she nodded. That was much like Aegon. He was rather a moody child, unlike Rhaenys, and would often only fall asleep in her own arms.
She nodded as she began to walk towards the nursery. As the maidservant made to follow her, the number of guards around the castle had lessened considerably as many had departed the capital for Dragonstone with the Queen mother as the Royal family prepared to launch an attack from their ancestral seat.
"Has there been any news of the battle?" she questioned as the servant answered.
"Nothing new, my lady. Lord Tywin marches towards the capital with his men, yet he has drawn up no banners to signify the side for which he fights. Baratheon and his host remain stationary as they wait for him to recover from the Battle of the Trident, and Lord Tyrell and his armies continue their siege of Storm's End," and she scoffed at that.
Traitors the lot of them. She had little belief that Lord Tywin would ever fight for King Aerys. Once, the man may have been a friend to the King, but she had seen with her own eyes as the King ridiculed the Lannister lord, belittling him continuously. And a man with pride and ego, such as Lord Tywin, would never let all those insults go unanswered.
"And what of the King's new hand? What plans has Lord Connington hatched to combat the rebellion forces," she questioned.
"The King has decided to replace Lord Connington for his failure to defeat the rebelling lords and has exiled him, and now Lord Qarlton Chelstead serves as the hand of the King," she told her, and she sighed at that.
"May the Seven save Lord Chelstead," she prayed for the old man, knowing though that despite her prayers, the man's fate was now sealed.
As she was about to enter the nursery, a few guards rushed towards her and spoke up.
"My lady. My lady, you need to come with us," they said in a worried tone, and dread pooled in her heart at those words.
"What has happened?" she questioned as she turned to face them.
"The King has plans to burn Lord Chelstead," and for some odd reason, the words didn't come as a surprise to her.
.
.
.
.
She walked to the balcony in the court as the sound of shouting from the main hall reached her ears, the King's maddening tone cutting through the air.
"I will have them burned! ALL OF THEM!" he shouted as he always would, his voice raspy and thunderous, yet she didn't miss the hint of nervousness in it. A hint of nervousness and fear rang true in his voice as he roared at the bound form of Lord Qarlton Chelstead.
"Your grace, this is a mistake. That material is highly dangerous. Placing it throughout the city like that pits millions of lives at risk," the old Master of Coin reiterated, but the King had none of it.
"You dare deny a DRAGON! YOU DARE LECTURE ME ON HOW TO RULE!" he roared as he brought down his hand in full force on the arm of the throne.
"TCH!" and winced in pain as he cut himself once more, his face contorting in more rage.
The King's state could be described in a single word. Pitiful.
His hair was long and unruly; the once silvery shiny locks now turned gray and lusterless due to a lack of care. His face, marred by age, had lost its infamous Targaryen beauty as his skin hung loose from his bones, and his twisted and yellow teeth just made him look all the more maddening.
Small cuts and scrapes marred his hands, for the King was famous for often cutting himself on the throne, and his long and uncut nails were more than several inches long.
"Your grace, I am no traitor!" the old man roared as he pointed towards the Wisdom standing beside the monstrosity that was the Aegon's throne with its thousand melted swords.
"He is a traitor! I beg you to reconsider your actions. Placing wildfire around the city could doom this whole city," the man pleaded, his words making her eyes widen as she made sense of what was happening.
She had heard rumors that the King was setting up a trap for the rebellion forces, and now it all made sense. Yet this was no trap. No, this was a mistake.
Placing wildfire beneath the city was just madness. Sheer madness. Any mistake, any small mistake, and it could light up the whole city, for there were few things more volatile and dangerous than the green liquid created by those wisdoms of the Alchemist Guild.
Yet, was one to expect of a man known as the Mad King.
"YOU DARE SPEAK AGAINST YOUR KING! YOU TRAITOR!" the King roared once more as he pointed at his old Master of Coin.
"BURN HIM! BURN THEM ALL! BURN THEM ALLL!" he shouted, much as he had for a number of days now.
The guards dragged the old man towards the raging fire in the back as the man shouted and screamed and begged for mercy. Yet the King only laughed, laughed loudly as the dozen or so men in the room watched as another man was burnt alive.
His screams were gut-wrenching, and even now, after having spent all these years at court, nothing could ever prepare one for something like that, and she watched as the only Kingsgaurd reaming in the capital, Ser Jamie Lannister, stood there beside the King in his gleaming white armor, his hand over his blade had a slight tremor to it as his green eyes glew ominously in the fire as the King laughed madly at the screams.
"BURN! BURNNN! HAHAHAHA!" it was heinous and irritating. Her own hands tremored at the scene despite having witnessed it a hundred or so times now.
She avoided looking at the fire until the screams died down, her eyes laced to the sole Kingsguard standing beside the King as she lamented her own fate and future, which seemed nothing but bleak in that instant.
And then the screams came to an end. The whole Hall was filled only with the laughs of the King, who had a maddening smile on his face as he cheered on over the burning of an old man. An old man who had helped him rule over these lands.
Despite the rather usual occurrence of such events, she was so lost in her trance, much like the rest of the court, that they failed to notice as about two dozen or so men quietly stepped into the Hall and surrounded them all until suddenly, the doors to the throne room were forced shut in a loud bang.
BANG!
Her head snapped towards the source of the noise, and she watched as four men stood there, men wearing full armor on their bodies, all of it fashioned in a manner different than the one that belonged to the castle guards, yet for some reason, it bore the same Targaryen sigil.
And that was when she noticed how similarly dressed men had now surrounded the court. The Kingsguard was quick to react as they shouted.
"To the KING!" the voice of Ser Jamie out as castle guards rushed towards the King and made a protective circle around the throne. A single man stepped into the throne room, the giant doors behind him closing with a massive thud, making them all look in his direction.
She glanced back and found herself surrounded by these foreign men, their blades out and ready to tear them all down, yet they weren't attacking anyone yet.
As fear gripped her heart, she thought of just who they might be. Were they forces from the rebellion, and she knew the answer lay with that man. She glanced towards their leader as he slowly walked towards the throne.
The sound of deliberate steps rocked the room as one man, clad in pitch-black armor, stepped forward slowly. The sigil of the three-headed dragon embezzled in red jewels on his breastplate in a manner similar to how Rhaegar's armor had them.
Yet what caught her attention the most was his face, or lack thereof. The man's face was hidden behind a steel mask, one fashioned into the shape of the face, with cloth covering the sides of his face, holding it in place and obscuring all his facial features from them all.
All except one. His eyes.
His eyes shone brightly in a similar coloring to the King's own.
"It seems you are still set in your ways…." the man's voice rang out through the throne room, sending a shiver down her spine as she found it all too familiar.
Yet it was impossible.
"…Father!" the words cut through the Hall, as a shudder ran through her as the court gasped at those words with many of those who had served the King for longer than half a decade had recognized that tone instantly.
"Who are you? How dare you come in these Halls!" the King roared loudly.
"Kill him! KILL THEM ALLL!" he roared, yet none made to follow his command as the man simply stood there and looked at the man sitting atop the throne.
"Impossible…"
"Impossible…" Two gasps rang out through the room as she struggled to breathe, her feet moving unconsciously, taking her across the massive columns despite the protests of the servants.
"My lady!" yet she was unbothered by the two dozen or so swords pointed at her back as she emerged from the columns, gasping nervously as the masked man turned to face her.
"Is it really you?" she questioned as their eyes met. Even though the silver metal, she felt his face soften as he looked at her and gave her a slight nod.
And she felt her breath hitch at that as he continued.
"It has been quite some time, Elia!" he said, and she gasped at those words before he turned away from her, his eyes hardening as he spoke up loudly. His voice cut through the whole area.
"I am Daemon Targaryen. Son of Aerys, brother to Rhaegar…." He announced to the court as he raised his sword and pointed at the throne.
"…and I am back to take back everything you stole from me and more!"
0000
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