Exiting Maegor's holdfast he directed some of his men to retrieve the
prisoners and bring them to the appointed place, he dealt with some
minor issues with various guard captains and knights milling around,
confusion still reigning in the aftermath of the battle.
He had directed a company of guards to secure the dragon crash
site with all haste, several fires were raging in Kings Landing but he
lacked the manpower to deal with any of them, so his first thoughts
were to secure the Red Keep and then the dead dragons and the
corpses of their riders. And hope to fuck that someone had not
already made off with Dark Sister, now that would be a monumental
tragedy if he was to lose that blade.
After that, well, he would deal with the rest as and when they came,
well apart from cleaning up and covering up his tracks of course.
Once he had managed to get some semblance of control over the
chaos in the Red Keep after the initial fighting had broken out he had
used the opportunity to do a bit of house cleaning, eliminating
suspected hostile agents and spies. He had not seen the crash of
the dragons, only been told of it breathlessly by a runner from the
walls of the Red Keep.
Betting that Daemon was dead he immediately set about killing as
many of his pawns and lackeys' he could find, making sure to leave
no witnesses, so quite a few of the smallfolk servants and staff of the
Red Keep were unfortunately also killed.
Also, on his list were quite a few he believed had Green sympathies,
or who he suspected were outright secret Green supporters, along
with settling a few old, personal scores where he could, which was
most satisfying he had to admit.
Missing from his tally was that bitch Lady Misery, who was top of his
list to eliminate, the cunt having apparently slipped away in the
chaos, something that was of concern to him, but with Daemon likely
dead, the whore was much less threatening to him now.
All in all, he had managed rather well, for that left House Targaryen
rather bereft of members, and as a Yi-Ti philosopher had once told
him, nature abhors a vacuum.
The only real blight was the death of his granddaughter, a shame,
and the poor lass had met a terrible death, raped multiple times and
savagely mutilated. 'Blight'? He snarled inside his head, no, it was
more, much more than that. It was an absolute disaster, the guards
he had posted to protect Rhaena had not been sufficient, even
though he had increased their number to six from the usual two. He
should have locked the girl inside the Tower of the Hand for the
duration, but in truth he had not expected that the Greens would
murder Rhaena, Aegon and Viserys yes, but not his granddaughter.
And that left a cold, hard rage knotted deeply in his stomach, for he
was trapped, at least for now, by his dealing with the Greens, he
would have to go along, or at least appear to go along with…..the
majority of what he had agreed with them, unpleasant as this was.
Hah! 'unpleasant', he wondered for a moment if he had been a target
for assassination, and then dismissed this as utterly stupid, of course
he had been a target for the Greens to kill off, they wanted to 'sweep
the board clean' no doubt. He could not help but think that Rhaena's
death was his fault, that this was the price of dealing with scum like
Larys Strong and Ormund Hightower, this self-same scum that he
dealt with, teased an agreement of sorts with, and then betrayed at
the last moment.
No, not betrayed, he had never turned his cloak, he had merely been
doing what anyone would do in his situation and confronted with the
personalities and odds he had faced. And was this the God's way of
punishing him? He laughed inside his head 'God's'? Was that not the
greatest laugh of all, the God's, if they existed, were deaf and blind
to the actions of men, of that he was absolutely certain.
And this left him with something of a quandary, something of a
problem, what to do in the immediate future? How would he deal
with what was before him, how was he to profit from this chaos, how
was he to act to his best advantage? His mind was churning and
roiling with ideas and plans, he pushed the thoughts of Rhaena's
death down into the depths of his consciousness, he would grieve for
her later, for now there were other things to be done, futures to
secure, well, that of his family first and foremost.
And on that point, he had made a decision that he would perhaps not
have seen himself making even a few short hours before, that he
would back Hugh for the Iron Throne.
He had been reasonably sure that the Royal family, on both sides of
the divide, would get pruned rather dramatically, and that would open
up an opportunity for him to place his get upon the Iron Throne, with
his plan being to kill Hugh and marry Rhaena to Addam. But
Rhaena's death had foreclosed that option and left him in something
of a quandary, there were a few distant relatives of House Targaryen
knocking about, but Hugh was here, had a dragon and was a proven
battle commander… well at least a proven dragon rider. He had the
look required, and he was the legitimized bastard of Daemon
Targaryen, which would count for quite a bit he knew. Despite
Daemon's….proclivities he had a large enough following and the
loyalty of the Gold Cloaks. If he could speedily place Hugh atop the
Iron Throne he could present Hugh's ascension as a fait accompli.
With him as Hand of the King of course, and likely to be kept busy
ably assisting a new and inexperienced King to rule an exhausted
and shattered Seven Kingdoms….Yes, it would work, he needed to
clear up a few matters before hand and make sure other matters
were firmly in place, but he was convinced that it would work.
Hugh would need to marry quickly to produce heirs, and with no
Targaryen girl surviving he was left with a problem, for every single
ambitious Lord with a daughter would descend on Kings Landing, no
make that just every single Lord with a daughter. And the last thing
he needed was some other family gaining a hold over the Iron
Throne, especially a Westerosi one. He would have to look to Essos
for a bride of suitable blood for Hugh, though not one from an overly
powerful family if he could help it, he did not want to swap an
interfering Westerosi House for one from the Daughters of Old
Valyria now did he?
And as to Addam? He would in truth never have made a decent
King, and without anyone with sufficient Targaryen blood to marry
him to, there was no real chance of his becoming King. So, he made
his decision, despite the risks, despite the sure to be problems
ahead, he would hitch his family's fortunes to a bastard Prince who
would become a bastard King.
After a few minutes the rather sad looking bunch of prisoners was
brought before him, all looking worse for wear after their capture and
brief incarceration. If put to the question they might be able to reveal
who hired them, though he doubted who was really behind this did
the actual hiring of these thugs. So, their upcoming deaths were of
no concern to him, well actually that was not totally true, he wanted
to see how Prince, or should he say King Hugh, dealt with the men
who may, or may not, have raped and killed his wife.
Coming upon Hugh and the knights he had assigned to him he
beheld seven wooden spikes, driven into the soil at roughly equal
distances apart, each spike about four and a half foot tall and
sporting a sharpened tip.
He could not resist a smile, impalement, my, how novel, and
appropriate given Hugh thought these men responsible for the rape
of his wife. Well, the lad certainly had the necessary stones for
ruling, that much was immediately obvious.
The seven ruffians were marched up to Hugh, all of them manacled
hand and foot, some of them had realized what the stakes meant
and had commenced a great wailing and sobbing, begging for
mercy, to be beheaded, to be hung, but not to be impaled.
Hugh said nothing, simply picking up the first man and pushing him
onto the stake, ignoring his wails and screams, and proceeded to the
next man, who lost controls of his bowels in a spectacular fashion,
eliciting Hugh to say in an emotionless voice, "lubing yourself up for
your lover won't help you."
On Hugh went, impaling each of them without pause, using his great
strength and height to handle each one like they were mere children,
until all of them were rammed up through their respective arseholes
by the stakes.
Beside him Addam doubled over and vomited, this time only a thin
bile issuing from his son's mouth, mayhaps his brother Alys would be
better suited to accompanying him than Addam, who was
increasingly looking to his mind like a rather weak-willed milksop.
Who if he remembered correctly had called him 'father' a few short
minuets ago….hrmmmm, mayhaps the lad was not so worthless
after all, or maybe it was just a slip of the lads tongue in a time of
stress. He, he would have to have a think about this, along with
everything else a sarcastic inner voice sneered at him.
Hugh turned away from the moaning, sobbing impaled men and
addressed them all "There are to be left to expire at their own pace,
no one is to assist them on their way to the stranger, any who does
will join them atop a new stake. When they die leave them for the
crows, no one is to cut them down without my command,
understood!"
He answered for then all "yes your Grace, I will see that your will is
obeyed."
"Good….build me a pyre on the beach to the immediate north of the
city. I will send Rhaena to the gods at dusk tonight…."
And with that Hugh stormed off, ignoring them completely.
At dusk Hugh had arrived atop a horse, with a company of mixed
guards, the body of Rhaena still wrapped in the cloak from earlier on.
He observed as the huge ex-blacksmith had carefully taken
Rhaena's body down from where it was slung across his horse and
place it on the pyre. He stepped away and took an offered torch and
knelt down in the sand.
The Prince had bathed and had changed his clothes, wearing one of
his black 'uniforms' as he referred to them, this one with red seams,
edging and detailing, to contrast the black.
No one interrupted Hugh as he intoned some words, strange words,
words he had never heard before, but ones that sounded sonorous
and comforting nonetheless:
Our Father, who art in heaven,
hallowed be thy name; thy kingdom come,
thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses,
as we forgive those who trespass against us; and lead us not into
temptation,
but deliver us from evil.
For the kingdom, the power and the glory and yours now and
for ever.
Eternal rest grant unto her, O Lord, and may your perpetual light
shine upon her.
May her soul, and all the souls of the faithfully departed, rest in
peace, amen.
With that Hugh stood up and lit the pyre, the oil drenched wood
catching instantly with a whoosh, flames shooting upwards to spill
sparks into the dusky sky, the sun behind them just having dipped
below the hills and trees.
He heard some of his men whisper that Hugh's words were
blasphemous, that they were the heretical cant of the Red God of
Volantis. That piqued his mind, interesting that Hugh would choose
to worship a fire god, seeing as he rode the very personification of
fire made flesh in Vermithor.
Anyway, that was something to consider for another day, and it was
not as problematical as it might have been, for both of Daemon's
sons had turned up, alive and well, or at least as well as can be
expected after they had hidden in a privy for most of the day.
Princess Jaehaera had also turned up; the girl had hidden inside a
wardrobe and underneath a pile of clothing and bedsheets and had
not been discovered.
This of course completely upset his previous plans and eliminating
the recently discovered Princes and Princesses was not an option as
they had been handed over to the Kingsguard for safe keeping.
Though he could murder them if he really wanted to, the obstacle of
the Kingsguard and the potential fallout when his actions would be
discovered were too great a risk. And so, he had abandoned his plan
to seat Hugh atop the Iron Throne and instead he concentrated on
the remaining Targaryen children left alive.
The best plan for the stability of the realm would be to marry Prince
Aegon to Princess Jaehaera and marry Prince Viserys to Lady
Daenaera, though this would not be ideal from the perspective of
getting his blood onto the Iron Throne. He would have to see how
things played out and see if he could not manipulate things to a
better outcome….mayhaps Hugh could be betrothed to Princess
Jaehaera and then the way would be clear for Aegon to marry
Daenaera….. there was much to ponder and much to do to secure
his and his family's future.
He turned away from Prince Hugh where he stood before the blazing
pyre of his wife's body and instructed that a guard be left with the
Prince, several knights and Men-at-Arms would see to the Prince's
safety. Safety yes, but Hugh's usefulness would have to be
carefully… managed, while the lad had shown no particular interest
in the Iron Throne the very fact that the corpses of both Daemon and
Aemond had been found burned to a crisp by dragonfire in the ruins
of the Great Sept, made him more than a little wary of Hugh. Dark
Sister had been recovered from the ruins, still in Daemon's hands
and thrust right through the corpse of Prince Aemond, and the ruins
were being guarded by a significant contingent of Gold Cloaks for
the time being. He had questioned Addam about the battle over
Kings Landing and he was insistent that Hugh did not try and aim
Vermithor's flames at Vhagar, that he had instead doused both
Vhagar and Caraxes with his beast's fires, both in the air and after
the two great dragons had crashed and demolished the Great Sept.
Was this Hugh trying to deliberately kill Daemon? Who was the lad's
main champion and benefactor, and whose loss had effectively cut
any hopes Hugh had of power off at the knees? And if he had done
this, then the question becomes why? What motive did Hugh have
for killing Daemon? Was it some personal animosity? Or was it
something else, and he could not help but wonder had Hugh made
some sort of a deal with the Greens that he was unaware of?
Deciding that he had enough of speculating for one day he headed
back to Kings Landing with the rest of his men, Addam also
accompanying him as he returned to the Red Keep, through a Kings
Landing still reeling from the recent events, fires smoldered or
burned in several places, small riots and random acts of violence
were common and widespread, for there were not enough soldiers to
enforce the peace.
Lord Stark was a few days away and the sooner the northern Lord
got here the better, though not too quick, for he had matters to attend
to first, things to put right.
They reached the Red Keep without incident, any trouble dissuaded
by the over fifty armed and mounted men escorting him and Addam.
He retired to the Tower of the Hand, dismissing most of his servants
and aides, deciding to retire for the evening. Entering his quarters,
he was only the slightest bit surprised to see Lord Larys Strong
sitting in his chair behind his desk.