Chapter 30
TEN YEARS LATER
ELIA MARTELL
Much had changed in the city in the last ten years. The spiralling capital, the symbol of House Targaryen's power, had been a city cursed with a nauseating stench and infrastructure built without planning.
More specifically, that was the case ten years ago; now, the city has completed its reconstruction, a process that had lasted nearly a decade and cost the Crown an innumerable amount of Gold. But the effects were there. The spiralling, smelly shithole had been transformed into a city unlike any other in the continent, divided into ten sections, with two sets of walls separating the inner and outer city.
And now as she sat with the Queen on the balcony basking in the smells of the Sea, she found herself contemplating her own place in the city. There was a time when she had thought that she would rule over the city and continent as the Queen, ruling alongside Rhaegar Targaryen as he would unseat his father, the Mad King.
Alas, such a thought would remain merely a dream of hers. Rhaegar would die trying to put down a rebellion started by his father's egregious actions against Lord Paramount of the North and the Vale and would subsequently lose his life to his own second son, Daemon Targaryen.
A Prince thought dead by all, a person she had watched burn in fire with her own eyes. The rebellion would be put down, and the Seven Kingdoms would have a new King, and soon after that, the King would leave for a secret excursion with the most elite of his guards, only to return back after pulling off another miracle—no, actually pulling off two miracles.
Of all the people in the Kingdom, Elia was most acutely aware of the ailment that had kept her dearest friend trapped at Starfall, an affliction thought to be a more severe form of Greyscale that even scared off the stranger.
Even her own family members had thought her life forfeit, and they prayed for a kind death much like all those who had ever known her did. And yet she had persisted, clinging onto life for years, until a miracle healed her—one powered by a dragon's heart.
"There was a time when I hated being on the balcony because the smell was simply unbearable," Ashara remarked as she sat in her chair, a loose gown wrapped around her as a single servant served them both. Her belly is swollen, much like hers had been over a decade ago when tragedy had struck the Kingdom.
And she feared for her friend's life, fearing that the Gods may test the Targaryen family once more.
Ashara Dayne looked as radiant as always, her beauty only growing through the years, as she ruled alongside their new King, Daemon the Dragonslayer, tempering their King's more ruthless tendencies with her more kind and benevolent actions and interventions as she tried to temper her husband's strict actions.
"Elia. Elia," and only when her name was called did she break out of her trance and look up at her friend and Queen, who was looking at her with a frown.
"You are awfully quiet today," Ashara asked her, and as she looked at her friend's face there, her eyes landed on the last trace that remained of the ailment that had nearly taken her life.
A scar that started from her eye and went back, the skin over it tanned a dark grey and shaped like scales. Even the best healers and the maesters had been unable to do anything about it, and though it was a blemish in the eyes of many lords and ladies, she knew that to Ashara and Daemon, it mattered little. Nor did it concern the small folk of the city who adored their new Queen for her generous charity ventures, calling her the second coming of the "Good Queen."
Though they had rather different epithets for their King.
"It's nothing. What were you saying?" she asked with a smile. They had known each other for over a decade, and her trepidation must have shown as those haunting purple eyes narrowed.
"It's not nothing. You are concerned about something," Ashara asked, and Elia's lips thinned. She must have known better. There was no way that Ashara would not have picked up on her anxiety.
"Is this about Aegon's position?" Ashara questioned, and she immediately shook her head.
"No, of course not," she replied quickly. When Aegon was born, he was born as his father's heir, born to sit on Aegon's throne; at least, she had thought so.
And yet now, with her friend carrying a babe of her own, one which both she and Daemon proclaimed would be a boy, that dream would be coming to an end. Many had expected her to be bitter about it, to rage and rave as she fought for her son's position, yet she would not.
When Daemon had walked into the City with Ashara by her side, she had known then and there that such a day would come. And over the years, she had come to accept it, and so had Aegon, who to this day was the proclaimed heir.
"No, as I said before. Daemon has kept his promise. He said that Aegon would serve as his heir until a son is born to him, and he has not backed off of that. And even now, if the Gods grace you with a son, Summer Hall and the lands surrounding it shall be enough for Aegon. Truth is he would prefer it to throne given his nature," and that had been the compromise.
Summer Hall is where the tragedy of the Mad King truly began. The lush palace, acting as a summer retreat for the House of the Dragon, had been reconstructed, with the Crown expanding the lands around it. That palace would go to Aegon and his children, who were rather fond of the place as well.
A bit too fond, she would say. Unlike Rhaenys, who had been old enough to remember the tragedy that had nearly taken away their lives, Aegon was simply too young to remember it all and had grown up to be doted on by all those around him, given his position as Prince and heir.
And that had gotten to his head a bit. Thankfully, Arthur had been able to get most of his worse habits out of him, but still, her son was a little too fond of wine and women taking after her own brother in his adventurous nature.
"Then what bothers you?" Ashra questioned again, and when she did not answer, her eyes narrowed as she wet her lips.
"Is this about our new Captain of the City Guard and how you have been eyeing the young knight?" Ashara asked, leaning in conspiratorially, and she immediately denied such allegations.
"Of course not," even though her face did grow a bit hot at the mention of the new addition to the council.
"Ser Garlan Tyrell, he does cut quite a dashing figure," Ashara continued to tease her, and she picked up the pillow beside her and threw it at her.
"Shut up," she chastised her friend as she laughed, even as her own face flushed.
"Hahaha, but still. Both Aegon and Rhaenys have grown up. You have raised them well. I doubt they would begrudge you this, especially if this brings you happiness," Ashara continued, her tone becoming serious and grave, as she looked her in the eye.
She should have expected nothing less of her, though. By now, it was well known that few things escaped the eyes and ears of their King and Queen. And so it was impossible that her rather unusual trips to the training grounds and the little for the Gold Cloaks and the escapades afterward would have gone unnoticed by either of them.
"And do you speak for the King as well?" After all, it was well known that any match made between the two Paramount Houses would require the King's approval, and despite her age, Elia Martell remained a princess of Dorne to this day.
"Daemon would never stand in the way of your happiness. You should know that," Ashara assured her.
Their King had a reputation. Despite his intervention, rumors about what had transpired at Starfall spread like wildfire, and within a few moons, he had gained a new name.
Daemon the Dragonslayer.
And though the King would never openly speak about the events of that day, it was well known that he had slain a dragon by his own hands to save the love of his life. A story quite rooted in truth, even though the exact nature of the fight had been rather romanticized by the bards and paymasters.
"That is generous of him, but until both Aegon and Rhaenys are married off, I cannot even think about that," she replied, and Ashara shrugged.
"As you wish. I have heard that Lord Tyrell is seeking Aegon's hand for his daughter," Ashara asked, and she nodded.
"He has, and Daemon has given his blessing to the match. As for Aegon, he is hell-bent on following his uncle's legacy and wishes to journey across the Narrow Sea," she added with a sigh, rather troubled by her son.
"And why is that so bad?" Ashara asked as the servant handed her a cup of tea.
"You know why," she replied cryptically. Instantly, the air shifted as Ashara motioned for the servant to leave them. When they were alone, she continued.
"Oberyn wrote to me a few days ago. He says that there are rumors of an army being assembled across the Narrow Sea, that they are gathering ships and mercenaries by the thousands, the recruitment being led by none other than the Golden Company," she finished strongly. There was no surprise on Ashara's face at her words. She had expected as much. After all, didn't she say that the King and Queen were rather well-informed?
"He also wrote to me how there are whispers of a winged beast taking to the skies in Yunkai, the last of the sanctuary of the Slave Masters," she finished and leaned back.
"And yet you knew of all that," she began, and Ashara nodded.
"The Crown is aware of all these rumors," she answered cryptically.
"Then why aren't we doing anything," she nearly raged.
"I can feel it, Ashara, the winds of war. And I am not the only one. The schisms caused by the rebellion all those years ago are yet to heal. Riverlands is a mess because of intense infighting, and I am not blind to the tensions between the Crown and House Lannister," she argued.
Daemon's refusal to marry Cersei Lannister had hit Lord Tywin's pride. The dismissal of Ser Jamie had only added to that. For though Lord Tywin did desire the return of his son and heir, he held the Crown responsible for the loss of his hand.
And to this day, there was a semblance of tension between the Crown and the House Lannister, which was only set to become worse with the resignation of their Master of Coin. Something was brewing here, and it did not sit well with her, and she could not figure out what it was.
"You need not worry about this. House Targaryen will not fall."
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TYWIN LANNISTER
A Lannister always pays his debts, and Tywin Lannister would do just as well. For the last two decades Tywin had desired to see his blood on the Iron Throne, and twice he had come so close only to be denied by people who thought themselves too good for his House and its blood.
Aerys had been the first to deny him this, refusing the match between Rhaegar and Cersei and instead choosing that Dornish whore for his son, and then had come the Rebellion. Initially, he had thought of taking the side of the rebelling lords, using his spy in the castle to have the gates open for him as he ended the war by sacking the capital and demanding the hand of Robert Baratheon for his contribution.
And yet that plan was foiled as the King's second son rose from the dead. Daemon Targaryen, brother to Rhaegar Targaryen, emerged from the stranger's cloak, alive and ready for the war into which his father and brother had thrust the realm. He would slay his own father to take the throne and would hand Tywin a defeat, forcing him to bend the knee.
Tywin would do so, hoping for an appropriate reward, and yet he would be denied once more. Though this time, the humiliation would be three folds, as the King would return to him his son, his heir a cripple, and hold the threat of absolute humiliation over his head.
For ten years, Tywin had nursed that wound, and the strike was struck by the stupidity and frivolity of his own blood. And yet he had his heir, and he would strike back.
"The King will see through it," Jamie warned as he sat in his solar. His golden hair was now cut short, and stubble grew on his face with hints of grey in it. His cocky smile was now long gone from his face, replaced by a stern expression.
"And what is there to see?" he replied as he leaned back, putting down his quill.
"My brother has served the King loyally for a decade. He has decided to resign to return and retire to his lands to spend time with his children," Tywin added, seeing Jamie scoff.
"You underestimate the King," Jamie answered, though he would argue that the King underestimated him. He thought he could keep a lion pinned down, yet he forgot that a lion is the King of the jungle.
"The King has many other problems at his hands. The Riverlands are a mess, and unless the Crown intervenes soon enough, there will be open warfare in the Riverlands," one helped on by him and his house, discreetly, of course.
The Riverlands were always rife for war, and with their Lord Paramounts getting weaker and the new farming techniques and equipment employed by the Crown, the Riverlands saw much of their income dry up as their Houses turned against one another as the Tully's failed to maintain peace.
"He has an army to deal with that. The King will not miss how the Lannisters are retreating away from the capital," Jamie argued, and indeed, Kevan's family had come back a year ago and Genna a year before that.
"Your brother and sister are still there," he replied with a raised brow. He saw Jamie grit his teeth.
"And you are going to let them," Jamie argued and began to rise up, his voice getting louder.
"Keep your voice down, and sit down," he commanded, and he saw his son's face flush. These displays of emotion made him question if he was truly worthy of his position, but the Gods had cursed him with this choice, and he could do no more.
"Your brother refused my orders and took his little whore to the capital. He humiliated me infront of everyone and tainted our blood with that of a common-born whore," he argued and saw Jamie's lips thin.
He had always held a soft spot for that little monster. However, Tywin was relieved to be rid of him. He would let the King deal with him; as far as he was concerned, that little beast was dead to him, much like his idiot of a daughter.
"And what of Cersei? She is married to Jon Connington. She cannot just come to Westerlands," and his teeth grit at the match and uselessness of his daughter. How he had sired such a vile and idiot girl was a mystery to him.
"And she would be much better protected if he had only given him a son. For five years, they have been married, and to this day, he has yet to bear a single child for the Lord of Griffin Roost. Many have begun calling her barren. As far as she is concerned, she is dead to me," he said.
"You cannot do tha..."
"ENOUGH!" he roared. His patience had run out, and at least he had the sense to shut his mouth.
"You will do as I command. And if you recall, it is because of your own stupidity that we are in this mess. There are complaints of bandits and gangs taking root in parts of Lannisport, taking two hundred of the men and investigating the whole matter. I will not have our House humiliated infront of our guests," he ordered.
"Guests?" Jamie asked.
"Guests. Euron Greyjoy is set to arrive in a moon's time; have this whole problem sorted out by then."
And with a grunt, Jamie left his solar, leaving him alone with the recent report he had received from Pycelle of how the King had been making rather frequent trips to Dragonstone.
The same thing had been going on for years now. Though there was nothing wrong with the King visiting his ancestral home, he knew the real reason for this: it was the rumors from across the Narrow Sea—rumors of an army gathering under the banner of a Black Dragon, one led by a pretender who was said to ride a mighty dragon.
"We shall soon have the truth of that," he whispered as he rolled it up and threw it in the fire behind him.
With Kevan's return, they would lose much influence at court, though it would not matter much in his eyes.
After all, if the rumors were proven true, then King's Landing may soon fly a different colored flag.
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