Chapter 34
JAMIE LANNISTER
Jamie Lannister had not seen a more astute political mind than his own father—that was until Daemon Lannister put him under his thumb, keeping both his and his sister's honor hostage. The man was the second coming of the devil itself, and yet he was not a man to be crossed.
And despite all that, the man kept his oaths, and as he had promised despite it being a decade since that fateful night that had ended with him losing his right hand, his and Cersei's sister remained unknown to all but a few, keeping his and his sisters honor intact. His life had truly transformed that day, and often he wondered what would have become of him had he not followed Cersei that night, that would he be really be in his current situation if he had kept his own oaths that night.
Alas! He would never know.
Jamie had been forced to hang up the white Cloak, becoming the first knight in history to be removed from the Order, and would return to Casterly Rock, both without his sword hand and his honor. Tywin Lannister would become furious upon learning of his and Cersei's actions, and it was the first time he had seen the monster his own brother saw in their father.
The man would disown his daughter then and there, claiming her to be useless and writing her off as he had Tyrion, and Jamie was forced to wed a year later to Alyssane Leoford, the daughter of Lord Leoford, a rather meek girl who was his father's choice for her.
Their marriage was one of convenience, and though he had two children from her, a part of him still missed the secret trysts with Cersei even after all these years, who was married herself to a sword swallower in the form of Lord Jon Cunnington of Griffin Roost. He had waited for years, years until he could finally hold her again, and he knew that if he were ever to be able to do that, then Tywin Lannister needed to die, though the man needed no help in that regard.
Despite Jamie's constant council, the man refused to budge and continued to go against the King, thinking him a boy. Only Jamie Lannister knew that Daemon Targaryen was no boy, but the devil came again. And now, with his father trying to join hands with traitors, the message had arrived from the capital a few days prior to arrest everyone involved in the conspiracy, and as a reward for his service, Cersei would be returned to him.
"AGHH!" he grunted in pain as Euron Greyjoy pushed a chair into him, making him stumble back before the man suddenly picked up the wine bottle from the table and threw it into the fire, as a massive explosion basked the whole room in smoke.
"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS!" his father raged as he pushed himself back up and chased after Euron Greyjoy who jumped out the window.
"Catch him," he screamed as he saw the man vanish and fall to the stairs surrounding the tower as the guards chased after him before he turned and found his father staring at coughing and looking at him in unbridled rage, as the guards detained the Magister from Lys.
"What do you think you are doing, Jamie?" he raged and he stood straight as he answered.
"I warned you," he began as he looked towards the guards.
"Do not go against King Daemon, and yet you refused to listen," he began.
"This is preposterous! We came to you in good faith, lord Tywin!" the magister screamed, and yet his father ignored the man, looking him in the eye as the realization dawned on him.
"All these years, it was you," he gasped out as his face turned cold and still.
"It was you spying on me, on your own father. Joining hands with that cur!" he raged, and Jamie shrugged.
"I did as you taught me to," he replied.
"Between you and King Daemon, I chose to side with the one who will win," and with that, he turned to the Royal Army men who were dressed as guards.
"The lord of the castle has taken ill. Take him to his room and make sure that he does not leave it. Until then, I rule over Casterly Rock," he answered, and the men saluted as they approached his father, who was grinding his teeth, looking at him as the fire burned in those green eyes of his.
"You are making a big mistake," Tywin warned as the guards surrounded him.
"Not as big as the one you were about to make," he rebutted, and the man scoffed.
"To think I would have my own son try and usurp me while I still draw breath," and Jamie stopped as he was about to walk out.
"You did the same thing to your own father," and his father shook his head.
"I did so to protect this House," and Jamie looked him in the eye.
"I am doing this for the same reason," and with that, he rushed out to help the guards chase after Euron Greyjoy.
.
.
.
Hours later, they would be able to track down the man and corner him on the tower by the river as Jamie approached him.
"Give up, Euron. There is no place left for you to run," he challenged, and the man smirked.
"Ohh, is that so," the man began as he backed off and smiled, running his tongue over his blue lips.
"Think again, lion boy," said the man, turning back and jumping down. He fell into the river as he rushed and watched his body vanish into the waves.
"No man can survive that fall," a guard added, yet he was not so sure about that.
0000
EDMURE TULLY
Edmure watched the Prince sitting infront of him, and he must hand it to the Targaryens. They were beautiful. The man's unblemished porcelain skin put him a cut above the rest, and with his silvery blonde hair and purple eyes, one could see why the Targaryen features were so sought after.
And yet, he was not here to admire the man's beauty. His main concern was with how he could use the young Prince to further his own gains.
Viserys Targaryen was the younger brother of Daemon Targaryen, the Demon King himself. The boy had always lived in his brother's shadow, whom he believed had usurped his position, given that the King had named him his heir when the Queen had been evacuated to Dragonstone during the rebellion.
And to this day, the young Prince had resentment for his brother because of his actions, as preposterous as that may sound, this whole thing was to their advantage.
And so, under the advice of one of his closest aides, he had spent quite some time building a rapport with the Prince, riling him up against his own brother and the King as he tried to tempt him to join their cause.
"The King's actions are frowned upon in all regions of the land. The people cry out for a savior," his closest aide and friend added as he addressed the Prince. Baelish had come from humble beginnings in a small lordship in Vale and had climbed up the ladder, slowly becoming a rather wealthy merchant.
He had connected him with the foreign powers amenable to his plight and helped broker dialogue between him and the Blackfyres.
"By the laws of Gods and men, you should be the King as nominated by your father, for he saw in you the very Greatness we see. You are a pious man, a just man unlike your brother who decried his very gods, making a mockery of the Crown and the Faith," the man added, and he nodded.
"Indeed, he is right. The King supports his alchemists and healers, decrying the work of sections as they associate disease with imaginary organisms and ply away people's minds with their potions and powders," and that was a big problem for the faith.
The new healers of the King had reduced the gold flowing into the Sept's coffers as they continued to preach their radical ideas about disease being associated with dirt and rot, decrying the word of the High Septon that disease was the work of God and only the holy Light of the Seven could heal all ailments.
For years, the Septons have been healing the smallfolk, an act that increased the faith's influence, which had been dwindling both in the capital and outside because of the King's actions.
"He opens his coffers to beggars and thieves while holding back his gold from the Seven," Baelish added as the Prince listened in silence.
"And what am I to do about that?" he asked.
"My prince, the people hunker for a new King, one that would set things right. That would bring back the era of your own great father," he added and saw the Prince's eyes glinted.
"You are the chosen heir, the one who was born to sit on the Iron throne. You must save your House and the continent, and House Tully shall stand behind you," he offered as the Prince raised a brow.
"Is that so, and what will House Tully offer me? Words?" the Prince scoffed.
"No, my Prince. Swords," Baelish added.
"Nearly fifty thousand of them," he added, and the Prince leaned forward.
"Fifty thousand?" and Baelish nodded.
"The King can call forth a number twice, if nor thrive that. What good will fifty thousand swords do me," the Prince scoffed and made to stand, and he panicked, rising up from his seat.
"My Prince. Please, wai..."
"And what about something your brother does not have," Baelish cut in, and the Prince halted in his steps as he glanced back.
"And what would that be?"
"A Dragon."
0000
OBERYN MARTELL
Oberyn stood beside the men of Meereen on one of the forts with a scorpion as the night enveloped the city, and yet Meereen did not sleep, for outside its walls stood an army, thousands strong, ready to lay waste to all the lives inside the city at the behest of its previous Slave Masters.
Meereen was now a free city, and its people were not ready to give that up, and so even as the night bathed the skies dark, the city's forges kept lit, its men kept awake, as they remained ready to defend their freedom to, the last man standing.
And yet, in that moment, he saw it: a great shadow taking to the skies, like arrows taking to the skies from one fort to another, as a surge of fear erupted from his heart as a giant shadow passed over his head.
"It's here," he gasped out as the men screamed.
"Get the Scorpions ready," and as the massive black arrows were fitted into the machines, he heard it again, the same deafening voice from a decade ago.
ROARR!
And in that second, he watched as a torrent of fire enveloped one of the forts and went up in flames as he heard the city's massive gings ring up, indicating an enemy onslaught.
The shadowing beast vanished once more, taking the cover of the skies as a dozen or so scorpion bolts passed through the air, and yet in a second, it appeared once more blow \ing up two more forts, and yet none of their bolts hit it.
"It's really that. A Dragon," a man gasped.
"But I thought they were all dead," another asked.
"You thought wrong," he answered as he opushed the man opearitng the scoropion andtook aim himself.
"Let me aim."
.
.
.
.
There was a reason that Valyria had conquered nearly all of the world, and that reason was dragons, and as Meereen lay torched, the reason was more than evident. To this day, only Dorne and Daemon had slain a dragon, and alas, Meereen was neither, and though its forts held strong, the massive beast toppled them all as he stood there menacingly even as two scorpion bolts stuck out of its body as it speeded torrents of fire all around.
"It's over," the dragon rider screamed as he stood there with the men that ruled over the city.
"Kneel and I shall have mercy," came the offer, and yet they did not deter as they stared death in the face.
"Never! Meereen will not bend the knee to anyone ever again," they chorused together as the dragon rider continued.
"So be it," and then, as the dragon opened its mouth to light them all up, he heard it again. Another roar, one much more defining than this one, as the air shifted, and he watched as a shady figure descended from the skies.
BOOOM!
The ground clattered as it put itself between them and the beast, casting a great shadow over them all. Everyone gasped as they saw the behemoth that had landed, its size nearly double, if not even greater, than that of the beast they had just faced.
Its scales were black as if charred, and its eyes, green, flew ominously as the smaller beast backed off while it roared.
"ROARRRR!" and the whole ground shook.
"It's him," he heard one of the men gasp. His eye followed his finger, and he saw the person sitting on the beast's saddle.
"It's the King. King Daemon!"
"Cannibal..." he heard that familiar tone as the dragon snarled, as the King commanded.
"...Dracarys!"
0000
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