The clash of steel on steel was invigorating, his opponent willing to
give him the type of fight that he wanted. Not the precision that the
better knights sometimes displayed, nor the oft lacking skill of
squires or other such. No, this spar with Ser Hugh was exactly what
he wanted, the lad was strong, fast and had enough unpredictability
to challenge him, and not just challenge him, to actually push him as
hard as possible.
And to make things even better as far as Daemon was concerned,
the lad shared the blood of Old Valyria, making him automatically
superior to any Andal or First Men, or anyone else on Planetos for
that matter. The lad's features were not as refined as the classical
Valyrian look, he was too big for one, and the planes and sweeps of
his face lacked a certain fineness, but he was a good enough
specimen of the Old Blood, especially accounting for his bastardry.
Hugh claimed to not know his father and his mother had not had the
features of the Old Blood according to Hugh, so his blood might be
somewhat diluted. That did not matter to Daemon, the lad could ride
a dragon and had the silver/gold hair and violet eyes of a true
dragonrider, and that was enough for him!
And sometimes Daemon wondered if the lad was one of his get,
some blowby from a serving wench or tavern slut on Dragonstone.
He had seeded enough smallfolk lasses in his time that he scarce
remembered any of them, and it was entirely possible that this Hugh
was his baseborn son. Not that he cared one way or the other really,
Hugh was a dragonrider and that was enough for him, at least for
now anyway.
The pair of them had been sparring for what must have been a good
half an hour now, Daemon having four victories to Hugh's one, and
he was beginning to feel the first twinges of tiredness in his muscles.
He had not been pushed this hard in training in a long time, and
mayhaps he had been lazy these last few moons in his training.
Well, this lad Hugh would certainly make up for it, of this he was
sure. Hugh moved unconventionally and unpredictably, and was not
unafraid of using kicks, punches and elbows to gain any advantage.
Something which Daemon loved when training, he loved to see
someone actually fight as one would fight in a real life or death
situation.
And of course, all this pondering by him led Hugh to slipping his
blunted blade past his guard and winning the latest fight. Daemon
laughed it off and grasped Hugh's arm in the traditional warrior's grip.
"Good fight lad, we will do this again, methinks you can offer me a
decent challenge!"
"Thank you, your Grace" replied Hugh, giving him a slight bow.
"This afternoon, at the Hour of the Pig1 I will call upon you, dress
finely, we will be leaving the Red Keep for a dinner and some
entertainment."
Daemon could spot the sudden flash of alarm in the lads' eyes at this
but noted that he hid it well and Hugh replied, "of course your
Grace."
At this Daemon took his leave of the training yard, not before
noticing Hugh start upon a complicated set of stretches and
exercises, the likes of which Daemon had not seen before. He must
get the lad to teach him those, for stretching before and after training
were supposed to be good for one, according to the Maesters. And
he was putting on the years, of that there was no doubt, and he was
beginning to feel them in the odd twinge of pain and hitch of stiffness
in his bones.
He put these concerns aside and returned to the quarters that he
shared with the Queen for a quick bath, before he dressed and broke
his fast. Afterwards he proceeded to the Small Council meeting
chamber, where Rhaenyra liked to work from, when she was not
holding court or otherwise engaged.
Entering the room he gave her a bow, before giving his wife a kiss on
the head, Rhaenyra barely acknowledging his presence, her head
buried in some scroll or other.
Daemon sat himself down and waited for Rhaenyra to finish with her
reading, which she eventually did, putting aside the scroll and fixing
him with something of a glare.
"What?" he asked flippantly, feeling the slightest of aggrievement
that the Queen was displeased with something he had done, though
for the life of him he could not fathom what he could have possibly
done that displeased her so this morn.
"These, these plans that you have drawn up?"
"Which ones my love, I am rather busy at this time, I sometimes
scarce can keep track of all I am working on" Daemon replied glibly.
"Daemon….." Rhaenyra hissed in annoyance.
"No my love, genuinely…."
"These plans for redrawing the boundaries of the Seven Kingdoms,
are you mad?"
"Mad?" asked Daemon, tilting his head to one side, it looked like this
might be more of an argument than he had originally predicted.
"Yes, mad Daemon! Do you think that the Lords will stand for this,
and you did not even have the sense to keep this under wraps until
we are fully victorious!"
"These are just proposals your Grace" Daemon replied, a smile
plastered on his face, but it never reached his eyes, Rhaenyra was
acting like a child, again, and he would have to treat her like the
spoiled child that she was. It was such a pity that he could not
dispense with her and rule directly, but unfortunately that was
impossible, at least for now. And there was still the thorny matter of
her children by Lucerys Velaryon, bastards by Harwin Strong that
they were and all. Even if his Queen did tragically slip away into the
Strangers embrace, he would have to do away with the two boys
before his son could rule.
No, it was actually better to rule indirectly through Rhaenyra with his
current title as Lord Protector of the Realm, he would just have to
make sure that he kept his powers and his position once the war was
over. And once the war was over then what? Why take back the
Stepstones of course, and then Dorne, for only conquerors were
truly remembered, ask anyone, smallfolk or noble what Jaehaerys
had done, and many would struggle to tell you anything beyond a
few generalities. Ah, but ask them what Aegon, 1st of his name had
done, why everyone could tell you!
But for his dreams to be realised he needed support, and he needed
a realm solidly behind him, and the Iron Throne of course. And the
best way to do that to his mind was to reward those who had
supported Queen Rhaenyra and punish those who had supported
King Aegon, 2nd of his name. And if those that were rewarded were
those who either owed him or who were loyal to him, why all the
better as far as Daemon was concerned.
And equally importantly as far as Daemon was concerned, he had to
make their Andal subjects, Lord and Smallfolk alike, understand that
the Blood of Old Valyria was superior to them, that it ruled them by
right, and by the might of their dragons. Too long had House
Targaryen accommodated their Andal subjects, letting their Septons
and Septa's preach their nonsense to their children, poisoning their
minds before they were formed. Too long had his House refrained
from showing the Andals that they were not subject to their petty
laws and customs, and that their pathetic Seven Gods held no sway
over the children of the Freehold. It was high time that the realms
were reminded of this fact and what better opportunity than after a
war where his House and his blood would emerge victorious?
He had thought that Rhaenyra was of the same mind as him on this
matter, well not all of it obviously, he had not shared all of his vision
with his dear wife. For despite her blood, she had a woman's mind,
too narrow and small to truly appreciate the grand sweep of his
visions and where he wanted to take the realm. But alas apparently
Rhaenyra had decided to think to know what was best for the realm,
what was best for their house. He would have to make sure to bring
his dear Queen back around to his way of thinking on this matter,
would he not? The usual way would work, it always did, a good, long
hard fucking with his big pillar and Rhaenyra was usually receptive to
any suggestion he would make. Though she did not listen to him
always after a good fucking, for during those years of Dragonstone
his wife had not consented to his post coital suggestions to the
murder of Alicent and her brood. Ah, but if she had then things would
not have gone the way they had now would they?
"If they had been leaked Daemon! What of them then?"
"We could just have spread the rumour that they are false, you worry
too much your Grace."
"Daemon, of course I worry, the war is not yet won. And my enemies
still abound, some of them in this very keep!"
Ahhhh, that hoary old matter…..again. His dear Queen was rather
thirsty for vengeance and wanted to visit appropriate retribution upon
her enemies that were currently residing at her pleasure in the Red
Keep. Despite their value as hostages Rhaenyra was champing at
the bit to kill all who had opposed her. An endearing trait, but one
which clashed with the realities of the current situation and the need
to bring this war to as swift an end as possible. And hostages might
very well assist in this matter, but of course the moment the
prisoners that they held ceased to have any value to them, they
would be sent to the Strangers Halls forthwith.
"I predict that the war will be over by the end of 130 AC at the latest
your Grace, everything is moving towards this inevitable culmination"
he smiled his best smile to placate Rhaenyra.
"I'm still not sure of this Daemon, it's a huge change, the Lords might
not accept it."
"Then we will visit Fire and Blood upon them my Queen! These
changes will only happen once the war is won, and we have
defeated all our enemies. Then what will the Lords do? Stage a
revolt? No, they will stay quiet and accept the supremacy of the
Dragons, if they want their lines to continue!"
He would spit into the faces of those Andal cunts, every last one of
them, who had sneered at him, belittled him, even as he had fucked
their wives and not a few of their maiden daughters. For a moment
Daemon wondered just how many bastards he had fathered, and
just how many of his children that vengeful fathers and husbands
had killed by forcing the mostly willing recipients of his seed to drink
Moon Tea. Probably quite a few he mused sourly, for the Andals had
a very annoying hangup about bastards. Not that he cared one whit,
if they were his and if his blood showed true, why they were
absolutely superior to the variegated scum that normally issued from
the loins of Andals. These fathers and husbands should have been
thanking him for blessing those Andal wombs with his seed, if they
had any sense at all.
"You wish to attain quite a few noble families, move vassals around
seemingly by the hundreds and redraw the borders of Westeros in a
fashion not even attempted by the Conqueror. I am worried that this
is too radical, that it is foolish even."
"All those who will be attained are our enemies, you gave them the
chance to swear to you, in the year 105 all the Lords and the Knights
of the realm swore to you. Any who are your opposition have already
forsworn any rights or privileges that they once had. They are traitors
and should be treated as such, in doing this you will cow the Lords
for generations to come, ensuring the peace and stability of the
realm for your sons and theirs after them. And in the place of traitors,
we can reward those who were loyal to us, those who stood by their
oaths, and those men who proved that words are not mere wind."
He would find out who had been whispering in Rhaenyra's ear on
this matter and they would find a dagger buried in their back soon
enough.
"This Ser Hugh fellow, Vermithor's dragonseed, he is one of those
that you want to raise to Lordly status, am I correct?" Rhaenyra
asked, Daemon knew she was trying to move off topic by first
diverting the conversation slightly.
"Aye, he has proven loyal and smart, him and his Grace Prince
Jacaerys are something of friends and compatriots, as is Addam
Velaryon. The lad fights well for one who never squired, and he
seems to know a thing or two about dragons! He shares our blood
also, he has the looks of the Freehold of old." A slight little lie, but a
harmless enough one at that, not that Rhaenyra would care one way
or the other he hoped.
"I've heard that this, this so called 'alert posture' is actually Ser
Hugh's idea and not that of my son Prince Jacaerys?"
"I had not heard that" Daemon lied, for of course he knew all about
Ser Hugh and how he had been whispering behind the scenes into
the ear of Prince Jacaerys. Not that what the lad had been saying to
the Prince was objectionable, far from it in actuality, but still, such an
influence would have to be minimised or eliminated. It would not do
for Ser Hugh to have such influence over the heir to the Iron Throne.
"Even so, I doubt that some smallfolk lad, even one as accomplished
as Ser Hugh, would be able to come up with such a brilliant idea as
the 'alert posture' hrmmm?"
This so called 'alert posture' had at least two dragon riders stationed
at the dragon pit for a shift of eight hours, to be ready to take to the
sky at a minute's notice. This was to prevent a surprise attack from
crippling their dragons on the ground, either by an attack on the
Dragonpit by enemy agents or by an attack from the remaining
dragons of the Greens. The number of troops guarding the Dragonpit
had also been increased at Hugh's urging, which Prince Jacaerys
had accepted with little comment. No, Hugh needed to be removed
from his position to influence the Crown Prince, but maybe not until
the war was over, the lad had smart ideas in that head of his.
And Daemon became even more determined to knife whoever was
whispering to the Queen.
"And you propose to raise him to a Lord and give him 'new' lands in
this enlarged Crownlands that your and my Hand propose?"
"I do your Grace, I plan to have all the dragonriders close at hand to
Kings Landing, and to increase the size of the lands directly under
the Iron Throne, I want to make the Iron Throne as powerful as any
of our vassal kingdoms, despite the dragons. We have tried ruling
these Andals with accommodation and trust, that time is over, we
must instead rule them the only way they understand, with fear and
strength!"