Chapter 28
GALEN
One would think that Galen was responsible for his current condition. That he had failed in seeing through the machinations of the court and its grey rats once more. Yet they would be wrong.
The plague had stretched him too thin, but he was not truly blind to the noose that was being tightened around his neck. The propaganda. The whispers. The slurs. All of them reached his ears.
He knew of them and knew of the mouths they were being uttered out of. Knew that it was not just the Maesters working against him but the Faith as well, with its septons and septas blaming him for the deaths.
Yet he had believed in the goodness of man. Believed in the Crown. Believed in their sense of reason and responsibility, for in his mind, they should have understood the sheer importance of the burden and task imposed upon him.
For moons now, death had been his business, as he battled with a plague with one hand tied behind his back. As he tried to save thousands of lives, so that the kingdom would not be crippled with the death of millions, not thousands.
Yet he should have thought better. He should have known better.
To those who ruled from their castles, and ate from over a dozen plates, the plight and death of millions mattered. Even for the most righteous of Kings, the death of small folk was nothing but a number as they played their game of power and politics.
He had thought the Old King different. He had thought his son would be like him. He had expected the Maesters and the Hightowers to plot against him, yet he had hoped that the King would see reason. That the Targaryens would see beyond their ploys, for in the end his existance served them as well, for in that Hospital he was building he would give them the power to drive out the influence of the Hightowers and the Citadel.
He had believed in their pragmatism and their virtue. Yet now as the Rogue Prince chained him to the rotting bars of the Black Cell, he found himself intrigued by the reason of this betrayal.
He had trusted the Crown. But in the end, it had been the Crown which had betrayed him.
"Why?" he asked as the guards, closed the gates. He looked the young Daemon Targaryen in the eye, and asked in a whisper.
"Why would you do this?" he asked, for condemning him like this must have taken effort. Drive. It must have served some purpose, and he needed to know that.
"Me. You are the one who betrayed the crown," and that was as absurd a thing as any, and he shook his head.
"I did not betray the Crown. The Crown betrayed me though, and you my Prince led it in this betrayal," and the cell grew silent, as they looked each other in the eye.
"I do not believe that I have much time to live for so, at least tell me why do you do this? What sin have I commited against the Crown that I must be condemned to this dark and damp place?" and Daaemon Targaryen was too lost in his victory as he chuckled, and grabbed the torch from a guard.
"Leave us," he ordered, and the guards seemed unsure about the command yet chose to follow it in the end, as they left him alone with the Rogue Prince in the Black Cell.
"You asked of your sin?" the Prince laughed mockingly, and Galen found himself nodding.
"Yes, I did," and the Prince laughed.
"You are here because of treason. Because you conspired with the Velaryons to dismantle the Crown and its influence. The evidence is all there in how so many of your friends went on to work for the Velaryon fleet, and made their fortune with the Sea Snake," and so he had been the source of this rumor.
Galen had heard many a rumor about himself over the last few moons. They had ranged from him being a demon to him being the source of the plague. Yet amidst this throng of whispers, had been one about him being a Velaryon spy.
It was small, and he remembered laughing about it, thinking it to be insignificant. Yet he had been wrong.
"You started that rumor," he realized, and the Prince shrugged.
"Maybe."
"But what is my real crime?" he asked again, looking him in the eye, for he could only remember seeing him a few times. Yet what grudge had forced him to go against him in such a way?
"You and I have never crossed paths. I doubt we have even greeted one another, yet for some reason you hold such hatred for me that you went so far as to kill my friends and frame me for treason," Galen whispered, as his throat grew raspy.
"Why would you do that?" and finally the mask cracked, and the Rogue Prince's lips turned up in a mocking laugh, and those eyes narrowed as he stepped forward, and pulled him up.
CLANK!
His chest hit the metal bars, as he gazed into those raging amethyst orbs.
"Because you dared to take something of mine!" he declared as Galen's chest-pained form hit the bars of his cell.
"Because you dared to think yourself worthy of a Princess," and the words struck him the hardest as he realized his real crime.
"Gael…" the words slipped out of his lips.
"Do not take her name!" he said as he pushed him to the ground, and Galen felt the world blur as his head hit the ground and began to pain.
"You think that just because you saved her life once, that makes you worthy of her! YOU! A NO NAME BASTARD FROM A WHORE!" and Galen's heart sunk at those words, as he rubbed his head and felt it wet, and as he glanced at the Prince as he bled from his head, he saw him smiling.
"Yes, I know what happened to your mother after she left Kingslanding. I know how she sold you for some silver, and what she did to make ends meet," and he had not told that to anyone.
Ever.
"So, all this just because of her," he whispered weakly, reeling from the shock of it all.
"Just her! JUST HER YOU SAY!" the Prince screamed.
"They wed me to that horrible excuse of a woman, and yet they think of marrying you to a Princess of Blood! A Royal Princess of the Blood of Valyria! Preposterous!" and he was being dragged again, as the Prince pulled onto his chains, and grabbed him by his hair, as the cold metal of the cell pushed itself against his face.
"As if I would never let that happen! You are a parasite whose life means nothing! The evidence against you is plenty! Letters. Ledgers. Whispers. Everything has been arranged, and now you shall hang for laying your eyes on something of mine, you mongrel," and Galen was in pain, as the blood dripped down his forehead and into his eyes, as the world in front of him spun in a blur.
"Do you have any idea what you have done?" he eeked out, in sheer anger and disgust.
Jealousy. That had been the reason behind all this.
And the Prince frowned at those words as Galen continued to whisper, and just doing so scarred his cheeks and face from the rusting metal of the cell.
"Thousands will die," he whispered, and the Prince laughed.
"Let them," and with that, he pushed his head into the floor, grabbed his arm, and pulled at it, before he took something out of his belt.
"AGHHHH!" Galen screamed as he felt pain tear through his limb, and he saw the Prince plunge a dagger into his hand.
"AHHHHH!" and the scream left his mouth, as he felt the dagger tear through skin and bone as it tore through the ground, by an inch.
"Just a little reminder to never touch things that do not belong to you," and with that, he left him there screaming in pain, as the dagger literally nailed his hand to the cell floor.
"Heal this, oh great healer…."
0000
GAEL TARGARYEN
The King was dead.
Her mother's declaration had been true, and the letters had come soon after declaring the monarch and the Seven kingdoms had died in his sleep, taken by the damned plague which's fear had driven them all to this remote island.
They had all cried upon hearing of the demise of the Old King, her mother more than them all yet in the greatest betrayal of their love she still chose to remain on this isle as Balon laid him to rest in Kingslanding.
She had assured her that she would not chase after her. That she would remain here, even if she were to leave, but in the end, the Queen had chosen to honor her love's last wish as she chose to rest and mourn in the familiar halls of Dragonstone.
The castle had gone silent with mourning. Each of them was confined to their room as they suffered through the pain. Her mother mourned the loss of a husband, and she mourned the loss of a father.
She wept and cried in silence, and yet as the days passed and the pain from the loss of her father lessened, worry began to grow inside her as she stared at the piles of missives and letters inside her room.
"Still, nothing," she asked the acolyte she had summoned to her room, and the young apprentice bowed as he shook his head, just as he had done so for half a moon now.
"I am afraid not, Princess," he whispered, as she felt something tear at her heart as she waved her hand dismissing the acolyte as she stared at the pile once more. Half the realm had written to her to share their condolences, and even more had written to their mother, yet neither of them had received a single missive from Galen.
She had written to him herself, begging for a simple answer, and yet no word had come, and she could not help but feel some anguish as she saw whispered into the air.
"Do you hate me so much?" and a tear slid down her cheek as she lamented the lost love, yet in her heart, she could not help but feel unsettled by it all.
She knew Galen. Knew that despite their differences and misunderstandings, he was one of the kindest men alive. Even if he did not love her as she loved him, he would have written to her.
He would have written to her mother.
Yet he hadn't.
She had waited and waited yet no letter came, and she would wait no more. Yet just as she rose from her chair, she found herself stilled as a servant came to her.
"The Queen is calling for you," and she was a bit surprised by the suddenness of the summon, but nodded nonetheless.
"I was just coming to see her myself," she answered as she followed the servant to her mother's quarters, and she entered her room she found her lying in her bed, and the Good Queen had never seemed as old as she did now.
Grief had made her wrinkles prominent, and the white of her hair had never seemed more ancient than now as Gael's heart ached seeing her mother so thin and frail. Those amethyst eyes and lips did not smile as they once did upon seeing her, and all she saw in them were unshed tears and longing for a man now lost.
"You are here," her mother began as Gael came and stood beside her.
"You summoned me," she began, and her mother nodded, and those eyes had not just pain but pity and grief in them as well.
"I did," her mother answered in a raspy tone, as Gael dropped to her knees and reached for her hand.
"What happened?" she asked, and her mother's lips quivered as she gently caressed her face.
"Oh, my dear, I am so sorry," and she could not understand why she was apologizing to her.
"What happened?" she asked, as the trepidation and anxiety that had been eating away at her bloomed, before her mother slowly reached for the letter lying beside her.
"This came from your brother earlier today," and that did not surprise her, yet it were the next words which shifted the very ground from under her feet.
"They have put Galen in the Black cells," and her head snapped towards her mother, as she feared that she might have heard wrong.
"What?" she gasped, as her heart sunk as her mother repeated her words.
"They have put Galen into the Black cells," and she had not heard wrong. Her mother did indeed speak of Galen, and how he had been put into the Black cells.
"Why?" she eeked out as her grip on that loosened as he mother answered with a whisper.
"Treason…"
"Lies," she answered without hearing anymore, for he would never betray the Crown. Never.
"I know…."
.
.
.
Soon after that, Gael walked out of the room with tears and determination in her eyes, and within some time she walked out of her room, dressed in her finest riding leathers, before she summoned the stablemaster.
"I need a horse," she ordered, and, surprised as he was, he did not question her, and a horse was brought to her, and she galloped through the rocky mountains before she came upon a very familiar creek, guarded by the Dragonekeepers.
A legacy of her father's, and yet she walked right past them, alone and with nothing but a torch in hand. She walked alone through a damp and rugged cave until she came upon that very clearing where she had come with her mother, as two dragons sat there coiled against one another.
The sight of them frightened her heart still, yet despite the fear, she strode forward as one of the beasts opened its eyes, sensing her approach and raised its head, as it gazed straight into her eyes.
She did not blink, nor did she turn away. She simply walked forward, with purpose and determination as she raised her hand, and spoke in a soft voice.
"I have need of your fury…." And the dragon rustled from its rest as it stepped forward.
"…Vermithor."
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