Chapter 36
OTTO HIGHTOWER
The capital was cursed. Or at least it was beginning to feel as such, for in in the last year or so there had been so much death, so much pain that the people in the city had begun to whisper the sentiment openly.
He could not even remember the last time the King had organised a joyous feast, or a tourney that the man was so fond of. The death of his wife and child had taken a toll on the man, and now months after the tragedy that was the Queen's death the realm had lost a Prince as well.
And that was just a few days after the death of his own daughter, Alicent's demise had shook the court as well, the gruesome way in which his daughter had chosen to end her own life had broken even him, and now it was only the duty and the thought of revenge that kept Otto sane as they gathered to bury her.
His precious daughter was a casualty of the brutal game of politics, and though she may have slit open her wrist herself, she had truly been killed by someone else. Someone far more sinister, and conniving than anyone realised.
And as a modest crowd gathered on the edge of the Godswood, under an old and aged Oak tree to bury her, Otto's lips thinned as he saw her killer walk into the service. And to this day Otto had thought of Daemon to be the plague of the capital, thought of the Rogue Prince to be the worst of the Targaryen family.
Gods had he been wrong. Daemon was but a child, an insolent child prone to throwing tantrums who understood only the mere basics of politics and the game that went on. He was dangerous being a ferocious warrior and dragon rider, but he was an enemy he understood well.
But this person. Daemon's son—he was different, and even now as he walked up to grave dug for the burial, the crowd parted ways for him as he walked through the gathered men and women to the front, to right where she lay dead. His daughter.
"How dare he?" his youngest balked in rage besides him, and before Otto could say anything moved forwards as he pointed his finger at Aegon.
"You! How dare you show your face here!" Gwayne's shout stunned the crowd as his youngest walked towards Daemon's son with reddened eyes.
"You! You killed her, and now you have the audacity to show your face here!" Gwayne raged, and whispers and murmurs broke out, as Gwayne stumbled towards him as guards pushed themselves infront of the Princess and pulled her to the side.
"Get out of here! LEAVE!" Gwayne shouted and Daemon's son did not budge as he finally turned towards Gwayne and answered in a dull tone.
"I am afraid I cannot do that," he answered and in his drunknen stupor he saw Gwayne grit his teeth, as he moronically reached for his sword.
"I SAID LEAVE!" and the younger ladies and women screamed as they ran away as Gwayne pointed his blade at the Prince who had now reached for his own blade.
"As I said, I will not be doing tha..."
"ENOUGH!" another voice rang out, this one much sharper and much coarser than that of both men, and stilled the whole court as the Princess herself stepped forward and put herself between Aegon Targaryen and his son, much to his shock.
"Aegon will not be going anywhere," the Princess's stern words surprised him, and the way she looked at him was that fiery and hate-filled gaze. It was rage and hate that he had not ever seen in that gaze. Ever.
Otto stepped forward, and Gwayne stood there stunned and helpless as he looked at the Princess.
"You were her friend, her dearest friend. How..." he gasped as Otto stepped forward, and stood beside her son and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Put down the sword, Gwayne," he ordered. His son looked into his eyes and then dropped the sword on the ground as Otto stepped forward.
"Is it not a brother's, a father's right to decide who may attend the funeral of their sister, of their daughter," he pleaded sharply and the Princess's eyes narrowed at that.
"Is it nor a betrothed right to attend the funeral of their wife to be," she asked before she shook her head.
"Plus, as far as I know Prince Aegon has more of a right to stand here than you, both of you," and with that she turned away from them as the ladies behind them gasped as Otto's eyes narrowed.
This was callous of the Princess. Far too callous of her, and there was a reason behind this hate and anger and he could think of but one thing and one thing only.
But it couldn't be. He had made sure to burn that thing. He had seen it turn to ash infront of his eyes, and then suddenly he stilled as his eyes landed on the Prince who was looking at him with a similar rage, and his feet got stuck on the ground as he imagined the worst and finally decided to back off.
At least until he knew exactly what was going on here.
"If that is what you believe Princess, then I can say nothing," and with that he turned towards the grave once more as septon stepped forward and began to say a prayer, as the Lady Alicent Hightower was buried much before her time.
Some would say much like the Prince whose death had followed her own.
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RHAENYRA TARGARYEN
Rhaenyra Targaryen did not know what and whom to mourn any longer. She had only barely finished mourning the loss of her mother when Alicent's untimely and tragic death had shook her whole being. And her friend's body had yet to be laid into the ground when the capital was rocked by another death.
This time of her uncle, Daemon. And even the commoners were struck by the news, reminded of the year of grief of her the Conciliator's time when the King had lost both Princess Gael and the Queen in the span of a year. This pain, this grief was what had confined the most powerful man of the realm to his death-bed, and her own grief was much greater.
She had long run out of tears, now. The pain and grief had been replaced by anger and apathy and she often found herself suffocating in these Halls, found herself lost in the memories of the people she had lost.
And in all of the capital, only one person's grief matched her own. And as she looked at her father she could see the toll it all had taken on him, despite their constant arguing and fights she knew of the love the King had for his brother, of how dearly her father cared for Daemon.
He was a pillar he could always rely on, his younger brother on whom he had doted all his life. Losing him so quickly after his lady wife had taken a toll on him, and the once hale and hearty King, whose court was filled with jesters and musicians and one feast happened after another, had become a somber and sad affair.
His eyes had their light, their glint and were now dulled as he drunk away his sorrows much to the worry of the Grandmaester, who had even asked for her to counsel the man.
"We were unable to recover even his body," he began sadly and she saw his sole fist ball up at those words, as she sat opposite to him in his solar. She had been summoned here rather suddenly, though she had an idea why it was so.
"Those bastards. That damned Triarchy. Those honorless curs refused to offer us his remains," he shouted as he looked into her eyes.
"Some say that damned Crab-feeder thinks to make an example out of him. Of my Brother," and even her own blood boiled at those words and that disrespect. Daemon had many faults, but he was her uncle, a Prince of Royal Blood.
To treat him as such. It was a disrespect that the Iron throne could not let go.
"Send me. Send the fleet and burn him in those caves where he lives," she offered, and her father immediately shook her head.
"No. You will not go anywhere," he shouted sharply before his face softened.
"I have lost so much already. So much," he pleaded as tears gathered in his eyes.
"I cannot lose you too. I cannot," he added, and there was a time when she had hated him, especially after her mother's death.
"Please promise me, my child. You will not go," he begged, and it broke her heart seeing him like this, for despite everything he was a King, he was her father.
"I promise," she added and saw him give her a weak smile as he took a big sip of the wine again.
"Good. Good," he said as he put down the cup and looked into her eyes.
"These are dark times for our family. Darker times than we have ever seen since the rise of Maegor himself," he began, making her frown.
"And as a King, it is my duty to steer the family out of these dark times. I have called for you today for that very purpose," he began, and she had expected as much as she closed her eyes.
The Targaryens were weak and vulnerable. There had not been so few Targaryens alive since the times of Maegor, and that could mean only one thing. Rhaenyra was not deaf to the rumors and plots that brewed in the court, she had chosen to ignore them no more.
"You have called me to speak of marriage," she reasoned and saw his lips turn up.
"I have, both mine and yours," he told her the truth, and it was better than lying to her. But she was surprised by those words.
"Yours?" she asked, and he nodded as his lips thinned.
"Yes, mine as well. Both of us carry royal blood, and it is our duty to marry to propagate the royal line and make alliances," he added, as her fists balled up.
But this was a reality for every lady, and she could fight it. Argue and rage, but she doubted she could win alone.
"And who has the court chosen for you," and she saw him shake his head.
"Before that, I wish to talk to you about your own match," he said, his voice becoming graver as he leaned forward, and she put down the fork as well.
"Everyone sees us as weak, and the truth is that House Targaryen has indeed been weakened. We must gather strength, come together in this perilous time so we can be stronger—stronger than our enemies so we can exact our revenge on them," he uttered, and she closed her eyes as she understood the point.
There was only one house that would allow them to do that. The most prosperous House of the realm, with the largest fleet.
"So, La..."
"That is why I believe a match between you and Aegon would give us the strength needed," and she was surprised by those words.
"Aegon?" she gasped and her father nodded.
"Yes, Aegon. I know that he was set to marry the Lady Alicent but she is dead, and he was Daemon's heir, as you are mine. It is time for us to unite the lines so House Targaryen can prosper, the two most prominent lines hand in hand for the future," and she frowned at that.
Aegon was her cousin and she indeed knew him better than most men. He was honorable, and just and would treat her well. And yet he had loved someone else. Someone close to her. Could she do it.
"What of House Velaryon?" she asked, they were the House which had gained the most from Daemon's death in a way, and were the only House that commanded three dragons, and she saw his eyes narrow at that question as he leaned back, as his fingers drummed on the table.
"None can deny the power of House Velaryon, they are the richest House and have the largest fleet. But I cannot trust a man like Corlys Velaryon," and she was surprised by those words, given that the man was his own master of ships, and had been incharge of the campaign in the Stepstones alongside her uncle.
But then there were certain rumors about the King asking them to pull back their fleet from the Stepstones, and she had not believed them.
Unless.
"Is that why you have asked them to pull back from the Stepstones?" she asked and he nodded.
"Indeed. I have always found the man highly suspicious, and far too ambitious. The man's desire for the Iron Throne is known to all, yet only a Targaryen shall seat the Iron Throne, and I will not let that happen. It is the reason I wish for you to marry Aegon, so to unite the two main Targaryen lines from myself and Daemon, to bring them together so that you both may rule after us," and she frowned at those words.
"Because despite everything, the Velaryon must be soothed, and for that, an alliance must be made with them," and she understood the point.
"You cannot mean?" she gasped, yet he nodded.
"I plan to marry the Lady Laena Velaryon," and she rose from her chair at those words, shaking her head at the sheer absurdity of that match, and just as she made to leave the table.
"Listen to me, Rhaenyra." The plea was so painful and gripping that she was forced to turn back when she saw him looking at her with tired eyes.
"I know what you think, but believe me, I have no desire to replace you. None. You are my most precious daughter, and it is my desire to see you both happy and cared for, to see you sit where your mother once sat and rule over this continent as I do," he pleaded.
"How? How can you say that when you are taking someone such as her to be your wife?" she asked, for Laena Velaryon was barely a few years older than herself.
"You leave that to me. I shall decree it as such, I promise you. You and Aegon shall be my heirs, just as your children shall follow after you. But at this time, we must shore up our alliance with House Velaryon," he pleaded, and there was sanity in those words. After all, House Velaryon did indeed have the biggest fleet in the realm.
"How?" she asked.
"Because Aegon shall do something that neither if us can do," he began as he looked her in the eye, as a spark lit up in those eyes.
"He is going to burn the Triarchy to the ground..."
And her own fists balled up at that, and as she saw the political implications of such a massive campaign she could see it, her father's plan. And reluctantly she sat back down as he smiled at her.
"Has he agreed to the match?" she asked, and her father shook his head.
"He has not given me an answer yet," he answered and she nodded.
"Let me talk to him," she asked.
"Do as you wish," and with that she saw his shoulders lift up, as if a heavy burden had been lifted off of them as he picked up his fork and began to eat.
"Speaking of that, with Daemon's death, I would have thought that his and Otto's little spats would be over," and she perked up at that.
"But it seems you have taken over my brother's duty of messing with my Hand," and unlike her father, she was not amused at all, and as she thought of Alicent's last message and how the man had behaved at the funeral.
And even before that, how he had tried to poison her own mind, her lips thinned as she looked her father in the eye.
"Speaking of that, since I have agreed to this match, I hope that you could agree to a demand of my own," she spoke sharply, and the words seemed to catch him off guard, yet he beckoned her to continue.
"Anything?" he said, and her eyes narrowed as she answered.
"Otto Hightower...."
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