Chapter 33
EDUMRE TULLY
The Tullys were the Lord Paramount of the Riverlands for three hundred years. The Conqueror bestowed this honor upon them, giving them control over the most central region of the Seven Kingdoms.
They had ruled over the disputing and disagreeable lords for more than three hundred years, keeping the King's peace until they were forced to rise up in rebellion as Prince Rhaegar stole away the wife and pride of Robert Baratheon, the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands.
House Stark, House Arryn, and House Tully joined the Stormlands in their desire for revenge and retribution, and just as they were on the cusp of victory, one in which House Tully had played a central part by tying up the alliance through multiple marriages, he had appeared.
Though dead for years, his appearance came as a shock to many. Prince Daemon Targaryen, the King's second son, had been burnt by his own father for the crime of orchestrating the Defiance of Duskendale, had yet somehow survived his public burning and had come back and in a few months, had changed the face of the war, winning battle after battle until he baited the oaf of a man, Robert Baratheon into single combat and defeated him bringing their campaign to an end.
And with Robert Baratheon dead, the rest of them were left to pick up the pieces and endure their new King's wrath, most of which had been focused on two Kingdoms. The Stormlands and the Riverlands, with the King taking key lands away from both, rendering them weak and ungovernable.
"This is idiocy," his uncle, Brynden, advised him as he walked towards his solar, as the Riverlands were set to finally retaliate against the damned King. The Heathen King.
"Your advice is duly noted, uncle," he snarled in rage. The man had been undermining him for a decade now, making a mockery of him even though it was he who was the Lord Paramount. Yet, he did not miss how the people would often turn to his uncle even in his presence, believing him to be the true holder of power in these lands.
"You may have resigned yourself to cower in fear of our new monarch, but I refuse to give up on the glory of our House. The King had the maps remade, taking away key lands from us, and for what? For standing against him! Against a tyrant!" and now a sword remained pinned to their throats with the Royal Army stationed right there at Harrenhall, ready to strike at them.
But soon enough, they will have troubles of their own to deal with, and if his gamble worked House Tully would not just have a chance to reclaim all their lands but much more.
"King Daemon is not a man who should be trifled with. Acting against him will bring consequences," the man advised, and he scoffed. He was not like them. He was the lord of Riverlands. He was his father's heir, unlike this old scared old man.
"The King does not scare me," he replied as he rounded off and faced his uncle, who looked him in the eye as he added.
"And that makes you more stupid than you think," he replied as Edmure's fists balled up at the insult.
"For he makes men much smarter and stronger than you tremble with fear. I have faced him in a war myself and have seen him rule over the realm for more than a decade now. He is not a man to be crossed," Edmure scoffed at that. Everyone made a big deal of their King's governance, yet in the decade since his ascension, he had yet to cement his rule over the Riverlands, which were filled with skirmishes and violence.
To him it felt that the King was even more incompetent than his own father who was able to maintain a semblance of peace throughout the Riverlands.
"If our King scares you so much, then go. I do not need your help anymore," he said curtly and saw the old man's brows arch.
"I am the Lord of this castle, and you will follow my decisions. I am not like you or my father. The people who support me in this are not idiots like Robert Baratheon or opportunists like the Starks. They are here to bring an end to the era of the Red Dragon, and through them, I shall win back the glory of our house," he declared.
"Either with you or without you." He finished and saw his uncle's lips thin as he moved forward and raised his hands, and Edmure flinched, thinking that the old man would strike him, and yet he felt those arms wrap around him as his uncle whispered in his ear.
"How much I wish my brother's loins had blessed him with another daughter rather than an idiot like you."
0000
TYWIN LANNISTER
Tywin Lannister sat in his solar, and beside him sat his son and heir Jamie while they stood face to face with the people that would make his revenge against House Targaryen and the King possible.
"I was told that I would get to meet the man behind this whole affair," he asked tersely as he looked the magister in the eye. He knew the man's name, the one who had gathered the alliance set to challenge Daemon and House Targaryen, and it was not the Magister of Lys.
No, it was Illyrio Mopatis, a magister from Pentosh who had married a daughter of Daemon Blackfyre named Saera Blackfyre, continuing the line of the Black Dragon they had all thought ended.
The magister of Lys smiled as he tried to placate him.
"Magister Illyrio sends his apologies, but he is busy with other matters. Other very important matters that concern our common enemy," the man began and Tywin did not like the insult.
"And what matters would that be? It must be quite something that it was considered more important than making an ally of House Lannister itself," he scoffed, and the man shuffled nervously.
"The magister sends his apologies, and was very troubled by how things came out to be. But you must understand, Lord Tywin, that dealing with Daemon Targaryen requires a certain level of caution given how he delves into arts and magics long thought gone," and that was a common insult against the King.
Daemon's appearance and the fact that he had survived a public burning led credence to all the rumors that the King practiced magics. It was something that drove quite a rift between the Crown and the High Septon, especially since the Crown now funded all its charitable endeavours separately from the Seven, directing much of their donations and gold to institutions run directly by the Queen.
And yet such an allegation could never really work against the Targayrens, for they were hailed as unique, as God's chosen on the land for their various powers. And though the masses worshipped the Gods, it was not the Seven that fed them, provided them with a roof, or medicine when they became ill. It was the Crown that did so, and he was acutely aware that the High Septon had failed in their attempts to rile up the public against the King.
"But, he will..."
"Meereen," suddenly Euron Greyjoy cut in, and the brother of the Lord of the Pykes, jumped in their conversation, his sole uncovered eye looking into his own as he smiled, showing his yellowed crooked teeth, as he smirked.
"As long as Meereen stands, our dear King shall always have a land to fall back on. A place to retreat to. Already his influence has grown considerably there, with Astapor having broken its shackles as well. If that city is allowed to stand, we shall always have a knife pointed at our backs," and that was true.
"This is not the first time an attack is being mounted on the city," he pointed out.
"Already, you have tried many times to break the city, but it has held for so long and has only gotten stronger. What difference will this attack make," he scoffed, and it disgusted him that he had to ally himself with these slaving curs, but he had no choice. It mattered little what their histories were but how they could support him in his revenge.
"Because this time, we are not going to attack the city with an army," the man smiled cruelly as he looked him in the eye.
"This time, the world will learn what it means to be a dragonlord," the man continued, and he understood the implications.
"How can I trust you when your own leader fails to honor his word?" Tywin cuts in, and Euron Greyjoy shrugs as he rises from his seat.
"Then so be it. Meereen will be attacked by Sundown tomorrow. The city will be burnt to a crisp, and the world will know of the true descendant of the House of the Dragonlords. You will need to make your decision before that," the man challenged, and Tywin's fists balled up at that.
They were looking down on him.
"I will be waiting for your reply in the city," the man said as he walked towards the door.
"And what makes you think I will not disclose your plans to the King?" Tywin asked.
"Haha," and the man chuckled.
"You wouldn't do that now, would you, Lord Tywin? Afterall what can the King offer you," and with that he was about to walk out the door and yet the doors did not open, as the guards guarding the door lowered their spears blocking the door.
Euron Greyjoy glared at him.
"What is the meaning of this?" The same question passed through his head when, suddenly, an ominous feeling bubbled up. He saw his son and heir, Jamie, rise from his seat.
"I am afraid I cannot let you leave, Lord Euron," Jamie began. He saw that his son had hidden his sword under the table and had taken it out, brandishing it openly.
"Jam..." he realized. He was about to chastise his son when suddenly Euron Greyjoy jumped back, reaching for the wine at the table, and he threw the goblet into the fire behind him.
BOOOOOM!
"CATCH HIM!"
0000
DAEMON TARGARYEN
Daemon moved through a set of caves on Dragonstone, despite his reluctance he had brought Ashara to keep his promise to her. However, he had not expected to be joined by a rather young third party.
"Why are you here, Daenerys?" he asked his little sister, who had decided to tag along. And this Daeneyrs was much different than the Daenerys of his dreams. She was bubbly and cheerful and filled with life and generosity, a long mile from the child who would have grown up alone and on the run in exile.
"Because I want to see it as well. The secret that you have been hiding here," she said, chuckling as she tried to rush forward, only for him to stop her. He grabbed her arm and pulled her back.
"This is not a joke, Daenerys. You are old enough to know what truly lingers in these caves," he warned her and saw her face turn serious, or as serious as it could become in a twelve-year-old, as she nodded.
"I know. Mother told me," she whispered, and he nodded.
"I want you to stay with Ashara and do not leave her side," he ordered and as she tried to argue.
"Otherwise, I am having you escorted back to the castle," she nodded enthusiastically at that.
He slowed down as they reached the deepest part of the cave, where little to no light reached. Their only source of illumination was the red gleam coming from his blade and the wooden torch he held in his hand.
And then their steps halted, as a low growl sounded off in the distance, as he slowed down.
"He is here," he said. As they stepped forward into the absolute darkness of the cave, he heard a deep rumble as the walls shook, and something giant and majestic approached them.
He raised his hand, stopping Ashara and Daenerys as a shadowy figure approached them; the fire on his torch flickered, weakening before it began to simmer out.
"All those years ago, when I told you about the dragons being alive. I always mentioned that only one tamed dragon survived the dance," he began as he felt that familiar presence approach him. He pushed forward his hand, and it touched nothing at first, only air before a rugged surface touched his hand, its warmth spreading through his body as darkness descended onto the cave.
"For Silverwing was not the only dragon that survived. Another beast survived the Dance, a dragon that had never bonded with any Targaryen for more than two hundred years. A dragon who feasted on other dragons," he continued as he felt their connection simmer, the madness, the hunger, and the rage of the beast he was touching bursting forth in his mind. Yet, he battled against it, suppressing it, not letting it get any control over him as he gave a portion of his own sanity to the beast.
"It really is a dragon," he heard Ashara gasp as two green irises opened up, glowing in the darkness like jewels he heard both of them gasp behind him.
"The other dragon that survived the Dance..." Daenerys continued.
".... Cannibal."
0000
Across the Narrow Sea, Illyrio Mopatis walked through his manse as his armies assembled and laid siege to Meereen. The Slave Masters funding his campaign had been growing restless for quite some time and had forced his hand on attacking Meereen.
Yet no matter. He would soon bring the city to its knees. After all, no city could stand against the might of a dragon, and as he walked through the manse, he burst through the doors and entered the room of the person on whose back this entire campaign was built, his little child.
Saera's heritage.
And she was just like her as well, her hair long and flowing as she stood on the balcony, something which made him stiffen as he continued.
"You know you cannot let them grow out like this, don't you?" he asked sharply as the doors closed behind them. He saw her turn towards him sharply as she gulped down worriedly.
"What will I do if anyone sees you like this?" he raged, seeing her look down guiltily as he looked towards the servant beside her.
"Cut her hair and get her ready for battle. Meereen burns tonight.!
0000
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