Chapter 18
ARNOLD ARRYN
There was a time when Arnold had imagined himself ruling over the mountainous Vale, restoring the prestige of the Arryn name as he rescued his House from the crutches of his weak cousin.
Vale was a hard place, one which had no place for weak women. No woman had ever sat on the wierwood throne to rule as the Lady of the Vale, and none would if it were upto him, and yet he was betrayed by men ensnared by her cousin using her beauty and guile.
And so, his rightful position was taken from him, and he was sent to the infamous sky cells where horror awaited him. Half a decade he had spent in those cells, in horror and trepidation, the desire to end it all so fervent, yet his desire for revenge would make him cling to those cold, and chilly stone as he bided day after day, night after night as the seasons changed, and years passed.
And when all hope had vanished, he was whisked away from his cell in the dead of night. He was thrown into a carriage, a hood over his face to hide whoever was doing this.
And now he found himself in a wooden room, his arms and legs tied. He heard the door to the room creak open, and a pair of footsteps entered the room, the feeble wood creaking with every step.
"Free his hands," the man commanded, and he felt the rope get cut as he slowly reached for the cloth over his face and removed it.
Day had come, and the Sunlight now filled the room as he found himself face-to-face with two people, looking at him with narrowed eyes.
"You are Arnold Arryn," one of them began, and he nodded as he scanned their faces and his surroundings.
"We have an off..."
"You are Corbyn, Corwyn Corbyn," he guessed and saw the man's eyes widen as his guess was proven correct.
"And we are in your lands," he continued as he cut off the rope tying his legs.
"It is rather intriguing that a Leal vassal of the House of Arryn would free a prisoner like me," he continued.
"My cousin could have your head for this, or at least she would have her little pet do so for her," he chuckled and saw the men shift nervously.
"We have an offer for you...."
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DAEMON TARGARYEN
The council's hatred for him had never really been a secret. It was well known that him and that cunt Otto never got along and were on opposite sides, and yet with each passing year he had felt his position at court dwindle from Master of Coin to Master of Laws to now the Commander of the City Watch.
He had watched as Viserys had surrounded himself with lickspittles and conniving bastards who sought to displace him, and yet watching them try and do so openly had been a surprise.
And yet all their efforts had failed, and he was the heir once more. The Gods did love their games.
And so, in his enjoyment, he had bought out a whorehouse for his men as they rejoiced at his rise, and around him, men and women entangled with one another as the men of the City Watch basked in the pleasures of the flesh.
He watched as Mysaria walked upto him and handed him a goblet of wine as one of her girls fiddled with him on the side.
"Why are you so dour? You should celebrate after you are the King's sole heir once more," she said as she sifted through his hair and leaned down to kiss him. She sat on his lap and began to tangle up with him.
He drowned his cup as he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer.
"Silence! Silence!" suddenly, he heard one of his men shout in a slurred speech, and he walked as one of his commanders tried to get up as a girl danced on his lap.
"Your Prince will have a word!" he shouted, and the men roared as they began to surround him by now, he had drowned a few cups, so his own vision was a bit blurry, yet he rose from the couch, as Mysaria helped him up and the men roared in cheer as some huddled around him, thought must stumble their gates the first victim of their excessive drinking.
"For years, the lords in the council have rued my position as heir and have sought to replace me..." he began as he stepped forward, and yet he was not the only one, for he noticed how a cloaked figure did the same from the crowd of his gathered men.
"This must be a new way of mourning," this newcomer spoke, and immediately, his men perked up as he removed his hood and revealed his face. One much similar to his own except for the hair and the eyes.
"Aegon," he snarled. He recognized that smug face and the young bastard looked him in the eye and raised a brow.
"I think you might have been too drunk to hear it the first time, so I will repeat it..." he began as he stepped forward.
"...Is this a new way of mourning!"
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AEGON TARGARYEN
Aegon had long contemplated about the tragedy that was the Dance of the Dragons. The dreams of the horrors brought upon by the Targaryen civil war were enough to haunt him for years as he found himself traversing through charred remains of keeps and cities, looking at men, women, and children all reduced to ashes.
The horrors of it all had long haunted his days and nights, and though it had taken him years to fully understand the visuals he was seeing, the truth was even after realizing the reality of what he saw he found himself rather helpless in what he could do to stop it.
For there was no one person responsible for the tragedy, there was not one exact event that marked the beginning of the whole war. It was a war born out of an accumulation of years and years of discontent.
And in some ways, it had all begun from this moment, as Aegon found himself in the streets of Kingslanding, in the infamous Street of Silk known for the pleasures of flesh. Even now, as the City mourned the loss of its Queen, the Street of Silk bustled with activity, with courtesans flaunting their flesh to lure in customers.
He stood outside one of the bigger brothels, covered in a cloak. He heard the sound of flesh meeting flesh and men and women screaming in ecstasy as the Gold Cloaks of Prince Daemon languished their new-found power and influence and bought out the entire brothel.
This was where it had begun, with one damned speech. And Aegon, of all people, bore Daemon no goodwill, yet his abdication was what would go on to divide the realm, especially at a time when there was a power vacuum at court.
He had thought about it a lot, and all of his instincts had spoken against doing this, but the truth was he was tired of doing nothing and waiting. If he let things happen as they were supposed to, Daemon would be disinherited, and Rhaenyra would be thrust forward as the heir, her position and ascendance a weapon for both Viserys and the other lords to weaken the influence of the Crown.
In the end, he decided to give him a chance, a singular chance to improve himself.
And as he heard one of the Gold Cloaks bang on the wall and scream, he knew that he had to move. And so, with a final sigh, he pushed himself off of the wall and made his way towards the entrance, only for his path to be blocked by two of the Gold Cloaks standing guard.
"I am afraid this establishment is off limits," one of them gruffly said, obviously not happy at being forced to guard the door while his colleagues enjoyed the pleasures of women and wine.
He pushed his head up, giving them a glimpse of his face.
"Get out of the way," he ordered and saw their eyes widen as they recognized his face; after all, despite his hair and eyes, he was aware he did share an uncanny resemblance to Daemon.
They hesitated, not knowing what to do. After all, putting their hands on a Prince was a crime, and yet they had their orders.
"Your Prince will have a word!"
"We ca..." and as they tried to stop him once again as he heard the man's shout and the subsequent roar. He retaliated by kicking one of them in the groin, and as the other tried to react, he kicked him in the leg, making him fall down, before kneed him in the face, knocking him unconscious.
The other one writhed on the ground, cursing him loudly, as Aegon moved past him and entered the brothel. He could see a number of gazes following him, of wanton women eyeing up a customer, yet he moved through them, paying no attention to their bare flesh and wanton gazes as he cut through the crowd as Daemon was helped up from his seat by a woman of dark hair and a small face.
Mysaria, his mind supplied the name as a flushed Daemon rose up in the midst of a maddening cheer as Aegon cut through the crowd and pushed himself forward, knowing full well that he had to intervene.
"For years, the lords in the council have rued my position as heir and have sought to replace me..."
"This must be a new way of mourning," Aegon cut him off before the man could unravel the very line of succession and plunge the realm into disaster.
As he pulled down his cloak, he saw Daemon's eyes narrow as he looked at his face. The Gold Cloaks around him backed off as they realized just who he was.
"Aegon," Daemon snarled as he found his little whore's eyes scanning his face as well as he raised a brow.
"Perhaps you were too drunk to understand, so let me repeat," he began as he looked around at the relative festive mood of the brothel.
"Is this a new way of mourning?" he asked condescendingly and saw Daemon's eyes narrow.
"What are you doing here, boy?" Aegon snarled.
"I was just curious about how a person mourns. I had thought that I would find you with your brother or your niece, consoling them. After all, unlike myself, they are your true family," he scoffed as he mocked the bastard.
"Yet I am afraid I was wrong. People like you have no family. You are but a gaping pit of depravity, satiated by praise from your lickspittles and whores," he mocked and saw a few of the Gold Cloak splutter at his words, and one of them had the courage to step forward and place a hand on his shoulder.
"You dar..." but Aegon was quick to react as he twisted his arm and kicked him in the leg, knocking him off balance, and pushed his face into the ground with his heel as he pulled on his arm, threatening to break it.
"You dare!" "How Dare!" and the others went rogue at this and reached for their blades and their daggers as Daemon raised his hand.
"HALTTT!" Daemon ordered, and they all stopped as he stood straight and walked towards him.
"Let him go," he said, and Aegon raised a brow.
"That knocked the drunkenness out of you. But why should I do that?" he said. And Daemon's lips thinned as he looked him in the eye.
"Let him go," he said again, and Aegon raised a brow and, with a harsh kick, pushed the man forward and let go of his arm, and the man fell into Daemon's legs.
"It is a true shame that Aemma died when she did. Otherwise, I would have had the opportunity to teach you a lesson," Daemon said as he reached down and pulled up his Gold Cloak.
"I am afraid that wouldn't have been possible. After all, weren't you getting beaten up by that Stormlander before the tourney as stopped." Aegon scoffed and saw Daemon flush as he mentioned his greatest shame.
"Your brother has lost his wife, your niece, her mother, and yet you sit here languishing with your whores and bootlickers, celebrating your own rise," Aegon taunted and saw Daemon.
"Do not try and teach me, boy," Daemon whispered threateningly as he stepped forward, and he saw the Gold Cloak grit his teeth as he glared at him.
"Teach him a lesson, my Prince." He shouted as Daemon, and he stood face to face. And he did not back away. Despite being clearly outnumbered and surrounded by enemies on all sides, Aegon did not flinch.
"There is no need for violence," Mysaria said, and he must give her props for being courageous in intervening in such a situation.
"And Prince Daemon is just as deeply troubled by the loss of the Queen as the rest of his family; it is just that everyone mourns in their own way," she said, clearly addressing him.
"Perhaps you could join..."
"I am in no need of your services or your girls' services. Unlike some, I like to keep my vows," he answered.
"Gut him, my Pr..." the Gold Cloak from earlier tried to speak up once more, but before he could finish, he saw Daemon spin as he reached for the dagger in his belt and swung it at the man's arm.
"ARGH!" blood spurted everywhere, and the man's arm fell away. He fell to the ground, screaming and howling in pain. As everyone backed off at the sight, many of the girls threw up at the display of wanton brutality.
"Why? Why, my Prince?" the man screamed in agony as Daemon looked down at him.
"Laying your hands on a Prince has consequences," and with that, he turned towards him with his bloody face.
"Even this one," he said as he threw his dagger to the ground and walked right past him, stopping to say a single line.
"You have some nerve," and the words were said with a complicated smile as he marched off, leaving behind a bleeding Gold Cloak, while the others moved away from him as a few of the girls rushed towards the screaming man and began to take him away.
Aegon, himself, turned away and began to walk away, and as he was about to leave the
"You are quite interesting, my Prince," and he glanced back and found Mysaria standing at the door, her white dress covered by dark red blemishes of blood, which did not seem to bother her at all.
"If you ever feel like it, do visit my establishment. I will be honoured to serve a guest as esteemed as you."
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