Chapter 70: Interlude: A Diplomatic SolutionNotes:
Ahem. I know I said that I'd try get the rest of the arc done before 2022. Well that obviously didn't happen.
Yuuki dropped by for a surprise visit, so as you can imagine, everything else went on the backburner.
I've also finished my two years of military service, and well… my section and I may or may not have gone totally overboard on the 'graduation party'. I'm only just getting back on my feet from all that partying.
Well, anywho, Happy New Year!
2021 was a pretty crap year, in my opinion. I mean, it was a damn sight better than 2020, but that's not saying a lot. The bar was pretty easy to beat.
Well, here's to 2022. May it be a better year that the last.
—Lucky
———
'Totally overboard' is an understatement.
I was the sober driver for Lucky and Yuuki at that party, and trust me when I say that what happened there are the type of things that those two numbskulls will pray their daughter never finds out about.
Well at least Pamela wasn't there. Things would have escalated out of control rather quickly if she was involved. Those three are fairly mature most of the time, but once they get hammered, well… at that point, I stop thinking about stopping the situation and start working on damage control instead.
Regardless, like my boyfriend said. Happy New Year! Happy 2022!
—Alice
Chapter Text
"Convicts are criminals whom were stupid enough to get caught."
-My Mother
109 AC, Fyrepit
There was something ineffably pleasant about huddling around a fireplace in the middle of winter. The snow gently falling outside the window, white flakes in the endless black of the night.
It was a relatively private conversation. Most of the Dragonseeds had returned from their various fostering for the end of the year, but it was hardly a full roster. Just under half the boys hadn't returned, while all the girls did, meaning that Shaera's insistence on having a girls-only chat was accepted without much issue.
There were twelve female Dragonseeds, but the number had dwindled considerably once Shaera began gossiping about boys.
Bell had tromped off to snowball fight with the boys, and tomboyish Baela had followed her out. Maegelle, Daella and Naerys went off to pray. Visenya and Rhaella began dozing off, so Viserra—as the youngest left in the room—got stuck with the chore of dragging them to bed. Leaving behind only Daena, Daenys, Rhaena and Shaera.
And from the looks of things, that party would be dwindling as well. Daena was visibly considering joining Bell and Baela in the snowball fight raging in the courtyard, and Daenys was quite obviously solely there because she was too dutiful to leave. Only Rhaena seemed genuinely interested in what Shaera had to say, the two of them gossiping intently over which knight in the Red Keep was the most handsome.
"They're too young for boys." Rhae whispered to Laena, leaning into her side. "Trust me, in five years time, I'll bet that quite a few more of the others would be here instead."
"Oh I don't know." Laena informed her girlfriend, pecking her on the forehead. "You've sold me quite a lot on the virtues of girls instead."
The two of them giggled happily, snuggling closer.
"Seven Hells, can we please change the topic?" Daena all but begged just then. "Anything other than boys. Please."
"Ooh. Someone's embarrassed." Rhaena giggled. "What, it's not like you've not heard worse from Mama."
"Well… Mama is… argh! No mocking me, little sister!" Daena protested, throwing her hands up in exasperation.
Sylvie was delightful, but Daena, Baela and Rhaena's mother was also a whore, and was not shy about telling her daughters— and the rest of the family— about how exactly they were conceived. Laena personally found the tales both highly erotic and intriguing, but of the three sisters only Rhaena shared her opinion.
"Alright, enough mocking your sister." Rhae mercifully stepped in, Daena shooting her a thankful look. "Let's change the topic then. How about… magic?"
Most of the Dragonseeds were sorcerers to a greater or lesser extent. Rhae and Daenys had taught most of them the bare basics on how to manipulate a glass candle. And some of them, even more than that.
"Yes, have you learnt any new spells recently?" Shaera eagerly asked.
Laena said nothing, waving a hand casually, generating a pair of translucent blue cones around herself and Shaera.
"A privacy ward!" The Velaryon scion gleefully informed them. "We can hear each other, but everyone else outside can't."
"****?" Shaera asked.
"I'm sorry, please speak up." Laena told the Dragonseed.
"*'* *****, ****** ***** **." Shaera said.
"I can't hear you!" Laena called out.
Daena rapped politely on the blue magic shield.
"She asked you to speak up." The eldest Dragonseed told Laena.
"Oh." The Velaryon scion nodded. "I said that I can't hear you!"
"****?" Shaera asked.
Daena walked across the room and rapped on Shaera's cone.
"She said that she can't hear you." Daena informed her younger sister.
"****'* *** ***** ** **** ***** ******?" Shaera asked.
"She asks what is the point of this spell." Daena told Laena.
"It is a privacy ward!" Laena proudly said. "People outside the cones cannot hear us, allowing us to talk freely!"
There was a beat.
Laena flicked her wrist, dismissing the spell.
"Rhae! You pranked me!" Laena accused sulkily as the rest of the room finally stopped repressing their laughter. "The Cone of Silence doesn't work!"
"Hah! That should teach you that blankets shouldn't be hogged!" The Prince of Dragonstone triumphantly crowed. "Especially in winter!"
"You have heating magic!" Laena protested. "You don't actually need the blanket!"
"It's a matter of principle." Rhae shot back. "Just because I don't need it doesn't mean that you can steal it."
"Wait, you're telling me that you went as far as to invent an entirely new spell, then taught it to Laena, just in order to take revenge for her being a blanket thief?" Rhaena accused incredulously.
"Do not underestimate just how petty I can be even with, no, especially with family." The Crown Prince proudly declared, puffing out her chest in pride.
"That is not something to be proud of!" Rhaena hissed back.
"Yes, I'm sure you've learnt many other spells." Shaera diplomatically said, stepping in between before the squabble could escalate.
"Well, I did learn one other thing from Rhae." Laena agreed, finding a piece of parchment and scribbling a bunch of words on it before sliding it over to Shaera. "Sign that please."
"If I must." Shaera easily said, writing her name on the parchment, which flared red once she finished.
"Alrighty then." Laena said, facing the youngest girl in the room. "What's your name?"
"Shaera Fyre. Before that, Sarah Waters." Shaera replied immediately, the girl slapping her hands over her mouth as soon as she spoke.
"What was that?" The girl fearfully asked. "I didn't want to say that."
"Oh. A truthtelling spell." Daena said. "That's useful."
"Actually, it's a binding contract." Laena corrected. "Shaera has signed and agreed to it, meaning that she's bound to obey the instructions written on the parchment."
"And in this case, it's telling the truth." Rhae noted with a shrug. "Laena used the weakest binding, so I fully expect it to wear off within five minutes. Ten at most."
"And why did you put it on me?" Shaera demanded. "Isn't this an invasion of privacy?"
"Eh, it's not like we'll actually ask you to confess your secrets." Rhae dismissed with a wave of her hand. "It's just for five minutes."
"Aww, so you won't be asking her things like: What colour is your smallclothes?" Rhaena teased. "Cousins, I'm disappoin—"
"White. With lace on them." Shaera replied, the girl immediately turning bright pink and glaring balefully at her sister.
"Girls, that's enough." Rhae interjected. "Please don't bully Shaera. She's such a well behaved girl."
"It's indiscriminate?!" Shaera wailed in horror as the mood of the entire room shifted instantly at the realisation.
Laena immediately grabbed ahold of Rhae, wrestling her down while Rhaena did the same to Daenys and Daena moved to block the door, cutting off Shaera's escape.
"Hey! Get off me!" Rhae ordered, struggling underneath Laena.
"Shaera, whom do you fancy the most?" Rhaena gleefully asked.
"Uncle Viserys. Because he's the King." Shaera immediately replied.
"I did not need to know that." Rhae replied with a shudder. "Now can we please stop bullying Shaera like this?"
"Nope. This is what she gets for tormenting me for ages about boys." Daena happily denied. "Shaera, what's your deepest fear?"
"Rhaenyra finding out that I betrayed her to Queen Aemma as part of my plot to usurp her." Shaera replied, horror spreading rapidly across her features. Almost immediately, there was yet another shift throughout the room.
Rhae and Daenys flexed their sorcery, telekinetically pushing Laena and Rhaena off them even as they restrained Shaera. The young Dragonseed moved to scream, but her mouth was forced shut by the combined magic of the two best mages in House Targaryen.
"Explain!" Rhae angrily demanded. "Shaera, what do you mean when you betrayed me to Mother?"
She told them, spilling every dirty secret, Rhae's face growing increasingly stony at the words. When she was done, Rhae strode forwards and rapped Shaera on the head, knocking her unconscious. The Prince of Dragonstone turned to face the other Dragonseeds in the room, but Daenys was faster, producing a wand and rapping her sisters on their heads, causing them to collapse like puppets with their strings cut.
"I'll help you." The Dragonseed immediately replied. "I'm better at manipulating memories than even you are. We'll wipe this entire conversation from their minds. Leave them none the wiser."
"No. They'll notice a gap in their memories." Rhae informed her. "Best we create false ones instead."
"Agreed." Daenys nodded. "They won't remember a thing when they wake up."
"Yes. Yes." Rhae distantly said, eyeing the binding contract that had started this whole mess. "Let's do that."
———
111 AC, Oldtown
Sharks.
Or mayhaps lions were a better comparison.
Regardless, Vaegon Targaryen couldn't help but feel like he was watching two apex predators circle each other, sizing the other up. Sharpening their claws and baring their fangs, ready to pounce and tear each other apart.
Rhaenyra Targaryen was young and beautiful, electrum hair flowing beautifully down her back. High cheekbones and flawless alabaster skin, set with indigo eyes that glinted most mischievously. Her mouth slightly upturned, making it look like she was always smiling. Her clothes a red dress with elaborate gold tracery.
Otto Hightower was old and handsome, hair more grey than black cut short. A well-groomed beard and sharp lines around his piercing grey eyes. His mouth a serious line, almost like a cut. He wore robes of brown and white, finely made but hardly ostentatious.
No two individuals could have looked any more different, and yet Vaegon could not help but think that they were one and the same. An old monster that was still sharp, and a young one that was growing ever more deadly by the year. Both staring down the other in utter silence.
Neither had said a word since the polite greetings at the start of the call, the two of them wordlessly circling the room, the silence deafening and tension so thick it felt like the air was molasses.
The Archmaester was seated in the middle, with the glass candle, and found that his hands were trembling, and his brow dripping with sweat. He felt like a prisoner. Chained up in the middle of a Slaver's Bay fighting pit, with beasts circling.
"Shaera has played us both." Rhaenyra finally said, breaking the excruciating silence.
"On that, we both agree." Otto replied.
"As expected then." The current Hand simply said. "Your moves were too reckless and aggressive. You're not the type of man whom would voluntarily condone such chaos."
"Indeed." The former Hand said, just as simply. "I thought it a ploy of yours at first, to gain control over House Tyrell. But it cost you too much for too little. You're not so clumsy."
"We've taken swings at each other. We've lost legitimacy, influence and control, while Shaera glutted on our conflict, enriching herself at our expense." Rhaenyra whispered sorrowfully.
"Shaera betrayed you to us. And then, at our moment of triumph, betrayed us to you." Otto sighed. "The Lady Tyrell has robbed us both blind while we fought."
"I briefly considered propping her up, did you know that?" Rhaenyra asked. "Set her House Tyrell up as a rival to House Hightower. Each keeping the other in check indefinitely."
"It would not have worked." Otto flatly stated. "Bastards are opportunistic and covetous by nature, and Daemon's spawn even moreso. Shaera Fyre has risen up from nothing, to become the Lady of Highgarden in but a few years. To let her consolidate her power, even to oppose House Hightower, is far too risky."
"Like using a snake as a deterrent. What is to say the creature wouldn't bite the hand that fed it?" The Prince said. "I might as well have hung a sword over my own head."
"Then we are in agreement." The knight said. "Shaera Tyrell needs to go. Now."
Vaegon suddenly shivered. It was summer now, and yet he still shivered. Neither of them had so much as raised their voices. Their words were unruffled and calm. The type of mild tone one might have used when discussing the weather. And yet the Archmaester couldn't help but feel like the walls were closing in. That the sunlight was fading and the shadows lengthening.
"A truce then." Rhaenyra offered. "Let us cease trying to undermine the other. An armistice of say… five years?"
"What could you possibly offer me that is worth such a boon? It simply allows you to consolidate your own power and authority uncontested." Otto denied. "No. I shall not swear one beyond the end of Shaera's ambitions."
"When Shaera Tyrell goes, the Reach will be leaderless." The current Hand pointed out. "I shall concede to your claim and name you Lord Regent of the Reach, to rule until Lord Lucas Tyrell turns of age."
"I refuse." The former Hand denied.
"Why not?" Rhaenyra asked. "It is a most princely boon, if you'll forgive the pun."
"You're trying to bargain with goods you no longer have." Otto flatly stated. "Your authority in the Reach is practically nonexistent at this time. Shaera has ripped that out of your hands.
"No. I can get the regency through my daughter." Otto informed Rhaenyra. "There is simply no one left. No better candidate in the eyes of the Crown for the regency."
"And you are trying to con me with more than you actually have." Rhaenyra just as flatly replied. "House Hightower is pariah among half the Reach. Strongarming your way to regency is the path to civil war.
"No. Like it or not, you need my endorsement to claim the regency." Rhaenyra informed Otto. "If not, it is Lord Unwin Peake I shall nominate for the high seat."
Ah. That was a cunning tactic. Lord Unwin Peake was among the most powerful Reachlords in the Queen's Party. Ascending as Lord Regent of the Reach was most certainly feasible. Especially if Rhaenyra endorsed him. Presumably, the Prince of Dragonstone would phrase his nomination as a compromise candidate, between the Queen's Party and Prince's Party, as the Hightowers were still disgraced from their plot to kill Lady Relena.
But in truth, that was a cup of poison she intended to feed the Queen's Party.
Lord Unwin Peake was known to be among the most ambitious lords in the Realm. He'd not hesitate to use his newfound position and influence to extract concessions from House Hightower. Mayhaps even force a betrothal between his daughter and one of the princes.
It would tear the Queen's Party apart, as Unwin and Otto both jostled each other for greater power and influence. Neutering them both while Leaving Rhaenyra free to move unchecked.
Vaegon shuddered slightly at the thought. His niece truly was such a vicious girl. Lord Corlys had mentioned on several occasions that Rhaenyra would be a right terror when she grew up, and the Archmaester found himself agreeing wholeheartedly.
For a period of time that was probably rather short, but felt impossibly long, Otto was silent.
"Damn." He finally cursed, conceding the point with a nod. "But sweeten the deal."
"Four years of truce. I shall not interfere in the Reach so long as you withdraw from the rest of the Realm." Rhaenyra offered. "And as apology and restitution to Malora Hightower's broken betrothal, I offer her the hand of any Dragonseed of her choice. Whom will receive lands, incomes and a lordship once he turns of age."
"Two years of truce, with no interference in the Reach." Otto countered. "You shall withdraw from the Westerlands as well."
"Three years of truce, with no interferences in the Reach." Rhaenyra offered. "We both withdraw from the Westerlands and let Lady Cerelle rise or fall by her own merits. Betrothal and restitution for Malora. The deal inviolably sealed by blood oath."
Another painfully long pause.
"Very well then." Otto agreed. "And so we turn to Shaera Tyrell."
The Crown Prince nodded.
"Assassination will be too overt. At least for now." Rhaenyra clinically assessed. "That leaves only two viable options: subornation or discredition."
"Subornation will not do. Shaera didn't burn dozens of bridges solely to roll over at threats." Otto noted. "She wouldn't flinch, no matter what we do. The only thing that she values more than her power is her life."
Not completely true.
Subornation was still feasible, of course. Rhaenyra was the best mage on the continent by a considerable margin, while Shaera ranked fourth at best. Shackling the traitorous Dragonseed via magic was doable, but bindings were a truly fickle branch of sorcery, and a field that Shaera specialised in to boot. There was a significant chance that Lady Tyrell could slip such shackles. Especially if it was forced unwillingly onto her.
"And so discrediton remains." Rhaenyra stated. "Expose her as the dirty little thief she is."
"We cannot use the truth of the matter." Otto agreed. "We will lose just as much, if not more, than what we gain."
"The catspaws you hired to kill Lady Relena, whom did you frame for the deed?"
"The Martells. Nobody likes the Dornish. Vicious degenerate snakes. The Reach would have believed it without second thought."
"Can you change the evidence? Frame Shaera instead?"
"Spin the tale such that Shaera set up the whole series of events in order to banish Malora, accelerate the Tyrell succession and strongarm the freshly-raised Lord Lucas Tyrell into marrying her?"
"It is at least plausible. My dear cousin has spent much time around both Garth Tyrell and Malora Hightower."
"I can implicate her, but I do not think that it will last. That whelp is slippery."
"Give me five minutes alone with Shaera, and I can get you a confession." Rhaenyra promised, voice ringing with inevitablility.
———
111 AC, Highgarden
"Good morning, Lady Tyrell." Otto Hightower greeted from his place right beside Rhaenyra Targaryen. "The Prince of Dragonstone and I have much to discuss with you."
It took Shaera all of two seconds to realise that Rhaenyra had outplayed her. The Hand of the King had never intended on allowing Shaera to act as a counterweight to House Hightower. She intended on allying with them to summarily crush House Tyrell.
It made a twisted sort of sense.
Shaera's plan was for House Tyrell to devour the Reach wholesale after House Hightower was inevitably destroyed by King Rhaenyra. Keeping them tied down now so that Rhaenyra would let her live as a counterweight.
Short term gain. Long term loss.
However, the Dragonqueen had done the opposite. She intended on crushing House Tyrell now. Allowing House Hightower to swallow the Reach, before she killed them all in a couple of years. Summarily eliminating all of her remaining opponents in the Reach.
Short term loss. Long term gain.
"You cut a deal with the Hightowers." Lady Tyrell accused, panic mounting at the realisation.
"Yes, and top of the agenda for the both of us is your elimination." Rhaenyra agreed. Her voice was pleasant, almost casual, but somehow Shaera couldn't help but feel dread congeal in her stomach.
It was the mildness of the tone, Shaera realised. The implication that the Prince of Dragonstone saw the Lady of Highgarden as little more than a bump on the road. Requiring so little effort to overcome as to be barely worth her attention.
That implied that Rhaenyra believed that between Otto and herself, she had the power necessary to strongarm Shaera.
"Really now?" Shaera tried, faking confidence she didn't have. "Then pray tell, what is your plan? How do you believe that you can dictate such terms to House Tyrell?"
"You will confess to the murder of Lady Relena Tyrell." Ser Otto Hightower ordered. "You bribed men to don Hightower livery, stolen from Malora Hightower's household, and then murder Lady Relena in broad daylight.
"After which, you manipulated Ser Garth Tyrell into usurping his brother and declaring war on House Hightower." Rhaenyra continued. "Before double-crossing him and wedding Lord Lucas Tyrell, in order to seize power as Lady of Highgarden."
In short, the two of them intended on scapegoating Shaera. Discrediting her before the entire Reach. With the King on her side, Shaera would avoid the death penalty, though that would spell the end of her reputation and ability to play the Game of Thrones.
"Ah, but what makes you think I will concede so easily?" The Lady Tyrell asked. "I've got quite the significant amount of blackmail on the two of you, and am not shy about releasing it."
She turned to face the former Hand of the King.
"Lord Otto. I have sufficient proof for the Faith to accuse Prince Rhaenyra as a heretic." Shaera offered. "It is yours, if you turn on Rhaenyra here and now."
It was already an open secret that Rhaenyra and Laena were lovers, but the Lady of Highgarden confirming such a rumour would definitely get the Faith involved. Which would cause Rhaenyra no small amount of headaches to deal with.
And that wasn't even getting into the skeletons the Hand of the King still had in her closet. For one, the fact that she was a sorcerer. Or that she'd faked the whole printing press thing. Shaera had done some digging, and found designs for such a machine within the Encyclopaedia of Valyrian Machines. Proof enough that the Crown Prince had faked that her invention of it was due to divine inspiration from the Smith.
Or even that Rhaenyra was from the future, though that one was rather difficult to prove.
Still, Shaera had more than enough blackmail on Rhaenyra to have the Crown Prince declared a manner of heretic by the Faith. Of course, it wouldn't stick—Rhaenyra was too powerful and entrenched— but the scandals would most definitely ruin her reputation and shake quite a few of her more pious followers.
"I think not." The man denied. "There shall be no betrayal in this alliance."
Damn. So Rhaenyra shackled him in a blood oath. The Crown Prince truly was most unpleasantly competent.
"Rhaenyra. I have sufficient proof to accuse Otto Hightower for treason and sedition. With my evidence, you could arrest him, and even the King wouldn't be able to dispute the charge." Shaera tried again, changing tack.
Lord Otto Hightower was even guiltier in this regard. For Shaera hadn't been shy about rummaging around in the minds of his catspaws. With that, she'd amassed irrefutable proof about the fires that he'd been setting throughout the Realm. The King would look on rather unkindly, when he found out that his goodfather had been going out of his way to destabilise the Realm and undermine the Prince of Dragonstone.
Rhaenyra alone wouldn't be able to swing it, because while everyone knew that it was Otto setting the fires, she had no hard evidence. Hard evidence that the Lady of Highgarden could provide.
Mayhaps it'd be enough for a criminal charge, if Rhaenyra could be convinced into throwing her weight behind it.
"Like he said." The older girl denied. "There shall be no betrayal in this alliance."
Shaera squinted at Rhaenyra. Magically binding oath or not, Rhaenrya would most definitely have left herself a backdoor out of any agreement. That she was passing over a chance to arrest Otto Hightower was distressing. Did she really see Shaera as that much of a threat?
"Ah, but then what's stopping me from releasing my blackmail anyway?" Shaera drawled, faking bravado that she didn't have. "Maybe I'll lose, but I'll drag the two of you down with me."
She paused.
"I believe the phrase was 'Mutually Assured Destruction'." The Lady of Highgarden recalled, winking at the Prince of Dragonstone, whom had gone ashen at that lovely turn of phrase.
After all, it was Rhaenyra's very own, spoken to Lord Corlys when they negotiated their alliance. It had been horridly difficult to extract those memories from the Master of Ships, but it had been worth it. Oh so worth it.
Rhaenyra glared balefully at Shaera, before snapping her fingers. Lord Otto's hologram winked out.
"Ah." Lady Tyrell smiled, rising to her feet. "Good. Now we can truly dis/
/ The Lady Tyrell blinked. She was seated in a chair now, with no memories of how she'd gotten there. Her throat was hoarse from words she didn't remember speaking, and the sun was lower in the sky than when they began.
Horror slowly pooled in her belly. Shaera was no stranger to magic that revolved around the mind, so she could quite clearly tell that Rhaenyra had wiped the conversation that they'd just had from her mind.
Something which should have impossible. Shaera had taken plenty of precautions against mental manipulation of any scale. Not even Daenys or Rhaegar could lightly her crack her mind open and read it's contents. And they were the best mages on the continent after Rhaenyra herself.
Now, it was one thing if Rhaenyra was here in person. She was powerful enough that —though unlikely— it was not out of the question that she could brute force Shaera's mind. But the Crown Prince was calling via glass candle. Her sorcery should have been but a pale shadow of itself.
Even Rhaenyra's strongest magic—her telekinesis—normally more than capable of batting aside armoured knights with contemptuous ease, was reduced so drastically in potency that the Prince of Dragonstone could barely use it to pick up cutlery over a glass candle.
Suddenly Shaera felt like she was back at Queen Aemma's coffin, realising that she was challenging someone so vastly powerful that she could kill without a finger. That terror had faded over the years, as the Dragonseed slowly realised that Rhaenyra while invincible, wasn't unbeatable. Just because you couldn't win against her didn't mean that she couldn't lose.
But now, seeing herself at Rhaenyra's mercy, utterly helpless before her, Shaera's old terror had returned with a vengeance.
Rhaenyra had some way to ransack Shaera's mind even with a meagre sliver of her true power. That was magically impossible, which meant that the Crown Prince had found some loophole. Some way to cheat.
The Lady Tyrell had to distance herself from the Prince of Dragonstone. Find and close the loophole. Prevent a repeat event.
As panic mounted, Shaera quickly snapped her fingers, forcefully severing the glass candle connection.
Or she hoped.
Absolutely nothing happened.
It was like her sorcery was as a mountain, unmovable by force of men. Oh, she could still feel it, pumping through her veins beneath her skin, pulsing with every beat of her heart. But she couldn't make the power move.
There were three steps to any spell: Will, formula and execution.
Shaera had both the will and the formula, but it was like there was some ironclad barrier preventing her from taking that final step. Preventing her from executing the spell.
"You've shut down my magic." Shaera whispered fearfully, feeling as though the ground beneath her had vanished, and that she was in freefall. "But that's impossible! You're not here!"
Rhaenyra Targaryen chuckled. It was a low and hoarse sound, all malice and vicious satisfaction completely unlike her usual elegant exterior. The Crown Prince looked up, meeting Shaera's eyes, and the Dragonseed flinched at what she saw within those indigo spheres.
Beware my daughter. Queen Aemma had once told Shaera, towards the last days of her life. Under her skin hides a monster whom would break this Realm and all whom tread upon it.
Shaera had dismissed the Queen's words as the ramblings of a mindless gods-obsessed woman, but now, the Lady of Highgarden realised that for once, Queen Aemma had spoken truly.
"Here's the thing about impossibility, Shaera." The monster purred, almost lovingly. "It is impossible, until it isn't. Where there's a will, there's a way. Some madman out there will defy all the odds, and do it. And then… It no longer is impossible. Merely improbable."
The witty retort was right in the tip of Shaera's tongue, but it died right there and then. The words slipped from her like sand between her fingers. The blackmail. Secrets that Shaera had taken from Rhaenyra's closest allies, had been ripped out of her, leaving behind only empty holes in Shaera's memory.
"You ripped those secrets out of me when you ransacked my mind just now, didn't you." Shaera sighed, running her hand through her hair in a most unladylike manner. Hiding her complete and utter terror that she'd just lost her last weapon against the Prince of Dragonstone.
"In a manner of speaking." The monster shrugged. "Just shows that I have to be thorough when interrogating you."
Interrogation. There was a clue in her choice of words. That meant that Rhaenyra didn't use deception or glamour to get into Shaera's head. A few more carefully phrased sentences, and the Dragonseed would be able to divine the method/
/ Shaera blinked once again. Dread pooled in her stomach, as she realised just what had happened.
"You wiped my mind once again." Shaera accused.
"Thrice again." The monster corrected, a hint of awe in the voice. "You're the single sharpest person I've ever met in this life."
"Your point is made, Rhaenyra Targaryen." Shaera snarled, dropping all pretences of her usual ladylike behaviour. "Either kill me and get it over with, or actually get to the point of the conversation."
"Do you know the meaning of the word extortion, Shaera?" The monster slowly asked. Voice silken, but trembling with suppressed rage.
"It is the act of robbing a person at knifepoint, yes?" She warily asked.
"Hmm, not quite." The monster drawled. "It is the act of robbing a person when someone else holds them at knifepoint. They either pay you exorbitant fees for your help, or get their throat slit."
The monster's eyes narrowed.
"Which is exactly what you have done, Shaera." The monster growled. "You used the Hightowers to hold me at knifepoint, and then robbed me blind while I was helpless."
"And what are you going to do about it?" Shaera demanded. "Or rather, what can you do about it? Even with Otto Hightower on your side. You're stuck in the Westerlands, and if you even so much as harm a single hair on my head, you'll have to deal with the Reach descending into war.
"I'm the only reason why you don't have to go to war with your own allies." Shaera finished, some modicum of confidence and triumph having returned to her belly after the tirade. "So I think that you ought to treat me with a bit more res/
/ Shaera collapsed to the floor screaming. Convulsing as incandescent pain lanced through her body from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. It felt like she'd been strapped to a table and the torturer was unleashing his full arsenal on her.
It felt like an eternity before than pain stopped, and Shaera was able to recompose herself, tremblingly pulling herself back into her seat, tears in her eyes and voice hoarse from the screaming.
That was magically induced pain. That Rhaenyra had the sorcerous mastery to pull it off such an absurdly difficult spell didn't surprise Shaera, but that she could cast it all the way from Casterly Rock was plainly impossible, glass candle or no.
With congealing horror and dread, the Lady of Highgarden was starting to realise that Rhaenyra had far more leverage over her than even her wildest nightmares.
Rhaenyra couldn't cast at the moment, which meant that she was most likely triggering old spells instead of completely casting new ones. A notion which was far more feasible than the Lady Hand somehow acquiring continent-spanning powers.
But that still bore the horrifying implication that the Prince of Dragonstone had somehow managed to implant a series of spells onto Shaera with her none the wiser.
Just because she never pulled on it never meant that the leash was nonexistent. Shaera thought. A way to call the Dragonseed to heel. A method to force her compliance and obedience.
Rhaenyra had somehow always known that Shaera would betray her, and as such took preemptive steps to punish such a betrayal. Or she was just so viciously paranoid that she'd stuck those spells onto every Dragonseed just in case of betrayal from any one of them. Even odds of either, truth be told, given the paranoia and general callousness of the Heir to the Iron Throne.
"I do dislike hurting children, especially girls." The monster idly drawled. "So please don't make me do that again."
"Point… taken." Shaera rasped out painfully.
"Now then, I have orders for you." The monster informed Shaera. "Failure to meet them will be punished harshly in the manner which I've just demonstrated."
Magically induced pain. Shaera twitched at the thought. That was an experience that she never ever wanted to experience ever again.
The Dragonseed nodded, and listened to the instructions of the Dragonqueen.
"And as additional insurance, I shall be sending down Daenys as an overseer. She'll follow you everywhere—Even the privy— and make sure that you're not up to no good." The monster finished. "Don't think about trying to evade or halt her. Should you even leave her sight for more than a handful of seconds, I will come to call."
Shit. Daenys was one of the few Dragonseeds whom Shaera couldn't beguile or manipulate. But still, there were ways to tiptoe around Daenys. She had to sleep, for one. And couldn't share a dragon either.
"Oh, and Shaera." The monster idly smiled, Shaera reluctantly looking her in the eye. "The day you give birth to a male heir, is the day you will have outlived your usefulness."
So Rhaenyra would come to kill her after she'd given birth.
"Duly noted." Shaera replied. "I shall do thy bidding, my Prince."
Until Shaera figured out the leash Rhaenyra had around her neck and found a way slip it. She had to do it, lest death await her. Still, Shaera Tyrell wasn't a quitter.
"Good." The monster simply said, snapping her fingers once more, Otto Hightower reappearing.
"I apologise for the delay. Shaera was… tenacious." Rhaenyra informed the man.
"No worries." Otto Hightower replied, eyeing Shaera beadily. "It is done?"
"Oh yes. Now this entire political debacle can at long last, come to an end." The Dragonqueen smiled.