[Chapter Size: 2600 Words.]
Third Person POV.
King's Landing.
...
...
Daemon did not move a muscle, but he began to break the wood above the cage, causing it to start opening in front of everyone. Then it exploded apart using only his telekinesis.
Some desperate screams and hurried steps backward were immediately heard due to the fear that the creature might charge at one of them, but what they saw was it being held captive by telekinesis, while it began screaming as it was restrained, with Daemon still raising a hand, signaling that he was in control.
As he turned it toward the entire hall and displayed it before them, he said: "Look at this thing. To the masters of this creature, you are nothing more than another soldier for their army. They do not care about your lands, your history, your wealth, or your political power. All they desire is destruction. Your destruction."
"How can we stop these things, Your Majesty?" someone from Dorne asked.
Daemon threw the creature to the floor as it flailed awkwardly. Then he took an ordinary sword from his personal inventory and made the creature look at him. It roared in anger. There was no fear or hesitation in its gaze.
Everything that existed within it was an enemy to kill. No matter how powerful Daemon was, everyone could see that as well. It charged forward.
"What I hold is ordinary steel," he announced before holding it to the side.
The creature ran toward him. Even Sandor grew uneasy, not expecting that, still standing beside the throne, but Daemon did not care. He delivered a slash right through the middle of the creature, cutting through its bones as it split into two halves and fell to either side.
Everyone watched in horror, while the zombie did not even seem to care, with the severed upper half of its body still trying to reach Daemon the very moment it hit the ground.
"As you can see, it does not die from ordinary steel," Daemon said calmly.
Gasps of shock echoed throughout the hall, especially among the women in the audience, who could not help but let out a few shrill screams.
"So they cannot die from these weapons?" one of the Reachmen asked.
Even those who supported Daemon were terrified. Stannis himself, as Daemon could see, wore a cautious expression. He, who had listened to the whispers of the Red Woman in his ear all this time, telling him that he was the champion destined to fight the dead... was now seeing the true enemy he would have to face regardless, and he certainly seemed surprised by all of it.
Daemon delivered another slash when the creature reached his feet. He cut off one of its hands, sending it several feet away. With telekinesis, he lifted the severed hand and brought it to his own hand, ignoring the dead creature screaming near his feet.
Holding the zombie's hand, he created flames—a basic spell from the School of Destruction—and began burning them.
"They do have a weakness, obviously," he said.
Everyone could easily see it as the flames consumed the severed hand and the creature's remains, burning them until they turned to ashes.
"Their corpses burn easily, almost as if they have oil in them. So fire can kill them, but it cannot kill their masters. Valyrian steel can also kill them, but I want to show something even more interesting than that," Daemon said as he pulled out a spear with dragonglass at its tip.
"This is dragonglass." He pointed the weapon at the creature, striking it directly in the back. It let out one more shrill scream before finally dying. The creature did not move anymore.
The entire hall fell silent after that.
"That is why all kingdoms will be mobilized. All of them, allies and non-allies alike. Surrendered soldiers must march to the Wall. The true war will begin by fighting these creatures and their masters."
"You said fire does not work against the beings who command them. Then how are we supposed to defeat them?" Lord Stark asked, a conversation they had already had in Winterfell.
"We must face them and continue using dragonglass, which can also kill them, but it is not so simple, because the material is difficult to forge into a blade durable enough to withstand their ice weapons."
Daemon put away the ordinary steel sword and revealed a sword made of ice before everyone. The very air in the hall began to change, and the temperature started to drop simply from the weapon's presence. With the exception of Mance and a few others, none of those present had ever seen such a weapon in their lives. And only Daemon could wield it.
"This is a sword used by the White Walkers," he said as he raised it, while with his other hand he caused a similar spear to appear beside him.
"They also wield spears." The spear disappeared once again, merely as a demonstration, while he kept holding the sword.
"An ordinary blade cannot fight against this sword." He turned toward one of the guards.
"You, come here." Daemon called, and the guard nodded, somewhat uneasy, not knowing what he wanted. "I want you to hand me your sword and try to strike me."
"Are you sure, Your Majesty?" the man asked uncertainly.
With Daemon's confirmation conveyed only through a serious look, without bothering to answer, he hesitated no longer. He drew the sword from its sheath and delivered a vertical strike at him.
Daemon raised the ice sword in front of him. The two blades collided.
The next moment, the guard's steel sword, a weapon of good quality used by the security of the Great Council, simply shattered like glass, astonishing everyone watching. The fragments fell directly to the floor.
"That..." everyone murmured in surprise.
"As you can see, ordinary steel cannot fight against this type of weapon. If you cannot catch a White Walker by surprise with dragonglass, you will have to face them directly. And, as I said, dragonglass can be used to make weapons, but they break easily. Even if dragonglass does not shatter upon contact with this icy steel, it is not durable enough to withstand the impact for long."
"That is why only Valyrian steel swords can fight against these ice blades." With those words, everyone swallowed hard. "I need every Valyrian steel sword in the realm, whether for you to use yourself, or for someone more competent and trustworthy to wield. It does not matter, we simply need to have swords available on the battlefield to deal with the White Walkers within the hordes of their servants..."
Daemon did not mention that these monsters were far stronger than even the strongest man in this hall; they would toy with a man like Sandor Clegane with ease. He did not want to terrify everyone. He only wanted them to have an incentive to fight the evil that was approaching. It was his way of finally uniting the kingdoms under his rule through something greater than fear.
Daemon returned to his seat upon the Iron Throne, putting away the ice blade as he watched everyone talking and murmuring among themselves.
He saw new golden auras emerging among several nobles. Maester Marwyn was still observing the corpse of the undead with fascination.
He had not yet finished the audience. There was one more matter he wished to mention to everyone.
Then he began pulling several letters from his dimensional space, which started glowing directly in his hand, one beside the other, along with several books. Among them was the most important one, written by the maesters themselves.
"Well, as you know, we need to go beyond the Wall, but I also want to discuss some things that you still seem unaware of," Daemon said. "It is time to explain some of my actions regarding certain houses..."
"First, I want to talk about what happened at the Citadel." He made all the letters and books fly toward Maester Marwyn.
"I want you to read all the documents aloud. There is a truth about the Rebellion that almost no one in this hall knows. I know my parents were reckless. I acknowledge their mistake in running away, but there were things that were, in fact, the reason the war broke out. There was manipulation and hidden facts. It is time to tell the truth about the Rebellion."
A commotion spread throughout the hall, making everyone almost forget the fear of the creature and the fate that might await them. All attention turned back to the maester and the documents in his hands.
Maester Marwyn began to read. At first, he seemed confused, but soon everyone began to understand.
"When Lyanna's letter arrived at Winterfell, I intercepted it before it could reach Lord Stark, as requested. I must advise you to believe that your daughter was kidnapped."
That simple message made everyone's eyes widen.
"What?" Lord Stark raised his voice at that moment.
"My parents may have been foolish, but the Rebellion was clearly orchestrated. Orchestrated with the help of the Order of Maesters itself. These documents prove it," Daemon said openly.
Even Maester Nolum and Maester Marwyn looked at him, swallowing hard.
"The maesters? Why would they do that?" someone exclaimed. It was a man from the Reach, unable to believe it.
"As the evidence is right in front of you, my lord," Daemon replied, resting his right cheek on his hand while remaining seated upon the Iron Throne with a calm expression, watching with amusement as the men struggled against reality.
The maesters. The order they had all taken such pride in had become a nest of vipers manipulating Westeros from the shadows. And this had been going on for centuries...
"You can see the maesters' signatures. Maester Walys was a man who served before Maester Luwin took over Winterfell. Maester Marwyn himself can confirm whether these letters are genuine or not." He paused briefly.
"I took everything from the vaults of the Citadel. The truth is that, even though my mother ran away with Prince Rhaegar, she still had the decency to inform her father in Winterfell, as did Brandon himself. The letter simply never reached its destination. Neither of them received any warning."
"One because Maester Walys never delivered the letter to my grandfather. The other because Hoster Tully himself kept the letter until he could use it at a more opportune moment."
"That cannot be true!" Brynden said from his seat.
Daemon merely shook his head. "I do not like your family, Brynden. You know that... I never have, because of Lady Catelyn. But there are documents you are about to read that prove Hoster knew about the letter. He burned it later, but he was aware of it. He used it as a political move to try to gain an advantage and even followed the advice of his own maester. When he realized Brandon had already been imprisoned here in King's Landing, admitting that he had known the truth beforehand would have been the same as confessing that he had neglected his duties and practically gotten the man who was supposed to marry his daughter killed. That is why he never spoke." His words echoed through the hall, and Daemon turned his attention back to Maester Marwyn, asking him to continue.
The archmaester began recounting information after information. Suggestions from maesters here and there, withheld letters, carefully planted lies. An entire scheme that, in the end, contributed to the downfall of the Targaryens. The maesters may not have wielded swords, but they had encouraged events, created a situation where rebellion would happen, and everyone was somewhat disturbed by their cunning.
"But why? Why would the maesters do this?" was the only question that remained in the air, openly repeated by several lords.
"The maesters hate magic, and the Targaryens have always represented it. I still cannot understand how they failed to discover me. Otherwise, they would have tried to kill me as well. Even my inhumane treatment in Winterfell as a child helped with that, in a way." Daemon sighed.
"Well, you already know the rest of the story. After all, once I discovered all of this, I began hunting down every Grand Maester who was behind this conspiracy. And you already know what happened at the Citadel."
Daemon made it clear why he had massacred so many men.
Everyone fell silent after that, certainly cautious. After all, what more could they say about what they had just heard? No lord would want to discover that he had been manipulated in such a manner.
"Anyway, this is the reason I attacked the Citadel. And expect something better than simply letting the Citadel get away with this. I recognize the importance of the maesters, and I myself will restructure the entire Order of Maesters once things settle down, after the war against the dead. I cannot allow such a greedy institution, one that operated from the shadows, to continue acting freely like this."
Daemon made that clear. Despite the caution and exchanged glances, no one said anything else.
"And why did you massacre the Tyrell and Martell families, then?" asked a nobleman from Dorne.
Daemon looked at him without anger or any hint of hostility. "Isn't it obvious? Those two families not only supported a Blackfyre rebellion, like you did, but they also became far too greedy."
"Tell me, the Tyrells spent their lives chasing marriage after marriage. Three in total, with three different people. All of them trying to seize the throne in order to make a Tyrell queen, willing to switch sides at every opportunity that presented itself. If they were still alive, I have no doubt they would be proposing the same thing to me. How could I allow a family like that to continue?"
"And they were the ones who ignored my father Prince Rhaegar's order to march to the Trident, while they remained laying siege to Storm's End for no reason whatsoever. Fifty thousand knights against five hundred Baratheon men while the war was taking place in the north..." Daemon said it while finding the situation utterly ridiculous.
"When they realized it was no longer worth fighting for the Targaryens, they simply turned their backs. Most likely all because of that woman who was behind everything." As he spoke, he remembered the woman he had killed at Storm's End after executing her grandson in front of her. Olenna—he himself had put an end to her.
"Now, as for the Martells, they are known for always seeking vengeance and never forgetting. If I had left them alive after killing Oberyn, they would have chased me like rats for the rest of their lives. And I know very well how greedy they can be."
"Dorne will never support you!" someone said.
Daemon did not care in the slightest. His reply came calmly. "Well, then I will have to show Dorne that I am not like the others they have faced. I will not be merciful, and I will not fall from a dragon either."
"Even if you fill every tower and castle with scorpions in an attempt to stop my dragons, by now you should already know that I am very different from anything Dorne has ever faced."
He kept his gaze fixed on the men of Dorne, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. Daemon was the type of king who would tell every noble in the realm that he would kill whomever he pleased and that no one could do anything to stop him.
After all, there was something that had greatly weakened the Targaryens over the past several centuries: the absence of dragons themselves.
Power was everything in Westeros... And Daemon represented an era, with a force far more dangerous than even the peak of House Targaryen before the Dance of the Dragons.
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