Chapter 28
ALICENT HIGHTOWER
For the last four days, her life had been monotonous as she had followed a simple routine. Her nights, which were often riddled with nightmares, screams, and sleeplessness, were the only time she would spend in her room.
The rest of it all was spent in the room of Prince Aegon, who, despite the prayers and medications, had yet to wake up. All the maesters and the acolytes were oblivious to what was wrong with him or what ailed him.
Many spoke of poison. Others whispered of magic, speaking of the crows that had come to her rescue. And speaking of her rescue, there were stories about it, whispers both good and bad, presenting her as a spoilt woman, while others touted her as a child blessed by the Seven, or more specifically, the stranger.
There were all kinds of stories, whispers about crows and strangers protecting her, and yet she knew them all to be false. She knew that it was no God, that had saved her that day. No, that was not god's work.
It was his. It was Aegon. He had rescued her, and even the crows and their actions were his doing. She was a learned girl, born and raised a Hightower who sponsored the center of knowledge known as the Citadel, and so she had an inkling about what she had witnessed, how this was but an extension of what she had heard him whisper months ago to his dragon.
She had kept it all to himself, all the details of that night, claiming to have not seen anything in her hysteria. It was a lie, a grand line, but no one could call her out on it, not after what she had gone through.
And now she waited, with a heavy heart and burning eyes, sitting beside a bed alongside an acolyte, hoping, praying for the boy lying infront of her to open his eyes. And yet, for the last four days, her prayers had gone unanswered, and the world around her—around them continued to shift with every passing day.
The King's announcement about her eventual marriage with Aegon had been made, despite her protests, while the Crown now prepared to launch an attack on the Stepstones; all the while, House Velaryon got itself another dragon rider in the form of Lady Laena Velaryon, bonding with the behemoth Vhagar.
Word of that had dampened the whispers about her own abduction as the court realigned itself to better suit the new political avenues, especially given that House Velaryon was set to benefit the most from the campaign in the pirate lidden islands.
"He still has not woken up," and she was broken out of her reverie. She looked to the side and found Rhaenyra walking towards her. The Princess had been her only companion in this solitude, keeping her company in this time when she was all alone.
"Not yet," she answered, not realizing just how dry her throat had gotten as she picked up a glass and drank some water.
"The maesters do not know what is wrong with him," she added helplessly as Rhaenyra's lips thinned.
"I am beginning to realize the maesters don't really know as much as they would like us to think," she said sharply, and there were rumors about the King suffering an ailment of his own, one that was that had also rendered the maesters helpless.
"Some say that he might never wake up or may never be the same person even af..." and just imagining that, imagining that she had done this to him. That all this predicament was because of her made her heart twist, for that was just the beginning of his suffering, suffering that would only grow with years as she would be used as shackles around his arms and legs by her own father.
And yet she could do nothing. No, there was much she could do, much she would do, but only when he was awake.
"They are wrong," Rhaenyra added as she held her hands, and she finally noticed that her old habit had returned and that hand had become bloodied from how much skin she had torn off of her thumb.
"He will wake up," she said, picking up a cloth and beginning to clean the blood off of her thumb.
"And he will give you a whole lecture on why you should be more mindful of this," she added sharply as Alicent scoffed.
"I doubt he would even want to see my face," she whispered, and she would not blame him. She would take the hate, the anger, anything and everything. She would take it without a scoff, without complaint, if only he woke up. That was all that mattered to her.
"Why do you say that?" Rhaenyra questioned, and she was silent, never having mentioned this to anyone.
"Because he is being forced to marry me against his will because I am being used as..." but before she could say anything.
"That is a lie," Rhaenyra cut in.
"Aegon chose to marry you. He chose it himself," she said, and she shook her head.
"He spoke agains..."
"I was there, Alicent," Rhaenyra added.
"Regardless of what you believe, he could never hate you. Never! Especially, given how he looks at you," she looked her in the eye and touched her face, wiping away the tear that had swelled up in her eye.
"And how you look at him," she wanted to believe. She wanted to believe that lie, but would it matter? She had made up her mind, and nothing would stand in her way.
"Waa..." and suddenly, a small whisper cut through the silence of the room, as both she and Rhaenyra looked towards Aegon and saw his eyes flutter.
She jumped from her chair, rushing to grab the hand, and felt it twitch as she saw those eyes flutter open.
"Aegon! Aegon!"
"Get me a Maester!"
0000
DAEMON TARGARYEN
Daemon was on the shores of Dragonstone watching Lady Laena, the young girl daftly trying to lead on the mighty Vhagar. His brother had been very displeased with him for this whole affair, though there was no reason to suspect any foul play on his part.
What had happened had happened, and there was little Viserys could do to separate Laena Vealryon from Vhagar, both for the effect it would have on the girl and the dragon and for the effect it would have on the relationship between the Crown and the Velaryons. Especially given that the campaign in the Stepstones was heavily dependent on Velaryon gold and ships.
Rhaenys herself had thundered at her child initially upon landing on the island, berating the little girl for her actions. She had hugged her so dearly and forbidden the girl from going near the largest dragon alive unless she was accompanied by her.
A directive which was rather impossible to follow for a young and adventurous girl who had escaped her captors on the first chance she had gotten and rushed to the caves. Daemon had been taking a stroll with Mysaria, trying to inspect the preparations for the campaign while receiving the latest information from the capital.
And it seemed as if the capital had truly had an interesting few days filled with drama.
"You are saying Otto's daughter was kidnapped," he asked Mysaria, who nodded.
"Indeed, she was abducted by two of your own Goldcloaks as a sort of revenge on the Hand and his family for what they had done to you," she replied. He did not like that, even though he wished nothing but death to Otto he had little motivation or time to care for what happened to his daughter.
"The plan, though, seemed rather beyond the two of them, so I suspect another hand in all this," she added, and his eyes narrowed at her. Was she behind this? Was this a declaration of loyalty?
"Not my hand, mind you," she added as she saw his lingering gaze, and he shrugged, not believing her but not pushing either.
"She was found later, safe by none other than your son under rather mysterious circumstances," she added.
"They say there were a flock of crows protecting her when he reached her, protecting her honor from the hands of the devils that had abducted her. Many believe this to be a sign that she is blessed by the Stranger," and he scoffed at that as if the Gods had enough power. And even if so they would ever bless a soul like her.
She was nothing special. She was not like him, like them. She was simple Andal, whose blood was cheaper than the dirt the dragonlords of Valyria walked on.
"And the King's announcement of betrothal between her and the Prince is seen as the Crown affirming these rumors and beliefs," and that angered him. It enraged him, to see Otto's blood joining his own, even if it was in the form of Aegon.
Yet Aegon was indifferent to him, one so besotted with tales of honor and valor that he refused to see the reality, that he refused to join hands with him. So, he would let the boy suffer for his own failures, after all he was but a defective child.
And Daemon could have many more, better, more perfect sons.
"You could intervene," she offered, and he scoffed.
"And why should I do that? I owe the boy nothing. He and that cunt's daughter are the reason I am here, exiled to this island!" he raged as he buried that notion.
"No, let that damned boy deal with this. He was a lost cause," he said as his gaze turned towards the young girl trying to get Vhagar to follow her instructions, and despite her protests, the giant beast remained unmoved even as she jumped.
"As you wish," she added as she followed her gaze and smiled.
"She is a rather courageous one," she added, and he smirked.
"Yes, it reminds me of my own mother in a certain way," he added softly, seeing the same adventurous spirit in her as was said to be possessed by Alyssa Targaryen.
"Make it so that those men's actions are not traced back to me in any way, and keep an eye on things in the capital," he said, and with that, he began to walk forward towards the little girl and her giant dragon. She heard his approach and paled as she saw him walking towards her.
"My Pri..."
"You are saying it wrong," he added before she could make up a lame excuse, and her face reddened.
"What?" she asked.
"You are saying it wrong," he said as he turned to look at the mighty beast, and at a distance, the massive dragon seemed more majestic than ever. Its mouth was so big that he doubted it could swallow him alive with ease, and as it opened its eyes and looked at him with the brown, golden slit-like eyes, he stilled before he turned towards the girl.
"When you speak, you have to mean it," he instructed her.
"The dragons are bonded to us. They are not mindless creatures to be persuaded by simple words. When issuing, you must mean it, say it with conviction," he ordered, and the girl nodded.
"Close your eyes," he said, remembering how he had taught Rhaenyra this lesson and after a bit of hesitation she did so, as did he.
"Now feel it. Feel your power, the fire circulating in your blood. Claim it, the power, everything, for it is your birthright," he whispered.
"And now say it," he instructed and there was silence for a few seconds before the girl finally opened her eyes and roared forth.
"Vhagar, Dracarys!"
And for the first time, the dragon obeyed as it turned its head toward the cattle she was pointing it and spewed a massive torrent of fire.
BOOOM!
0000
WILLAM ROYCE
Four days had passed, and yet there was no missive from the capital or any of their liege lords as he, Jeyne, and the men loyal to them remained imprisoned in their own castle.
The Corbyn men had burnt the stores, and the rationing was already beginning to take its toll. If his estimates were right, the stores would last them no more than a week.
Lady Jeyne herself was weary and troubled by this whole ordeal. The news of Jessamyn's capture had truly broken her. The sadness and hopelessness, further added to by a lack of response from Aegon, had made her somber and thoughtful.
"Has there been any missive?" she asked him as they gathered in the Great Hall for breakfast on the fifth day, and just like the last five days, he shook his head, and her eyes became hard as the grip on her spoon tightened as she nodded along.
The food was simple, thin porridge, one that was in no way fit for a noble lady, and yet she ate it without any complaints, setting an example for those below who watched her eat the thin gruel with no complaint, forcing them to do the same.
This preserved morale and had been one of her own ideas. Though he had argued against it, she had insisted on speaking of how she, as the lady of the Eyrie, must set an example for those below her.
The words and the sentiment reminded him of Aegon's teachings, and yet the lack of response from him troubled Willam, but he still held hope, for to this day, Aegon had not let him down. And he hoped, for both his and the Vale's sake, that such a day would not come any time soon.
"Any word from our riders," she asked, and he shook his head.
"Arnold Arryn knows these mountains as well as anyone. Any riders we send are probably caught by him. I have been trying, hoping that one gets away, but this is a gamble that is unlikely to be successful..."
And just as he was talking, the doors to the Main Hall opened up, and everyone in the Hall rose up, brandishing their swords.
And yet, as they saw the person at the door, they stopped as Lady Jeyne beside her gasped, for the person at the door was not an enemy, was not even a soldier.
It was a noble lady, covered in tattered clothes, with smudges of dirt and dung covering her face, and yet all this did not hide those striking red-colored locks running down her face.
And before the men had brought down their weapons, Lady Jeyne had rushed forth from behind him and was running down the Hall straight at the intruder, tears slipping down her face as she shouted in elation.
"JESSAMYN!"
0000
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