Chapter 36
ALICENT HIGHTOWER
Alicent had spent nearly her entire life in the Rep Keep. She had come to it when she was but a babe. She was brought here as a companion to the young daughter of Prince Viserys Targaryen, who was second in line to the throne.
Their friendship had blossomed, and the two of them would then become fast friends and spend their earlier years running around within these very Halls, as they enjoyed their own share of the peace and prosperity brought by the Old King.
Yet this was not the Red Keep of the Old King, and neither his peace nor his prosperity lingered within these Halls anymore. The Old King had died five years ago, and since then, the Seven Kingdoms had been embroiled in a great disaster.
First, it had been the plague and the ploys of the Maesters that had cast the Stranger's shadow all over the realm. And just as that damning specter began to lift, the whispers of war and conflict had begun to cause unrest.
While Prince Baelon had erred in his handling of the plague, one could argue that he was a good ruler. He was just and honorable, and genuinely cared for his subjects, yet it was as if he was cursed by the fates, for he would find himself stung by the very poison which had put him on the throne.
A crisis of Succession.
Until a few years ago, the line of succession was set, and it was well established that Prince Viserys would inherit the throne after his father, just as Prince Baelon had done so after his own father.
House Velaryon still grumbled about their claim and had gained some support for their cause after the demise of Princess Laena, but it was nothing but wind. That was until the Plague had struck one last time, and just as the reckoning was coming to an end, it struck the ruling House one last time, as it took the life of the beloved Prince Viserys, casting an even darker shadow on the future of the Seven Kingdoms.
His death had come as a shock, for the Prince had been hale and hearty, yet the disease had cared none for it all, and had swallowed him whole in but a few days. And the entire realm was worse for it.
His death had robbed them of what little joy and hope had lingered in these hearts. However, it had taken something far more precious from her dearest and oldest friend as well.
Her safety.
"I can feel him eyeing me," Rhaenyra whispered as she lay in her lap. The smile that had once been a permanent fixture on that face was now reserved for a few moments of genuine joy and was replaced by a frown filled with worry and fear.
To think that such a time would come when a Princess of the realm would once again feel unsafe in the Halls of the Red Keep. It was a replay of the era of Maegor the Cruel, and Alysanne could only hope and pray that her dearest friend would not suffer the same cruelties of that time.
"You need not worry so much," she assured her, even though she knew those were all empty words.
"How can you say that?" Rhaenyra retorted, frustratingly.
"You know the rumors. He intends to make me his bride," and for many a lady, it would have been their dream come true, becoming the bride to the King of Seven Kingdoms, but Rhaenyra was not one such lady.
She was born a princess, dubbed the 'Realm's Delight', and was niece to the said King. Stranger matches had been made in the Targaryen family, but few held the same cruelty as this one.
For Prince Daemon was no bachelor. He was a married man who continued to shun his wife of over two decades, as he eyed his own niece not for love and care, but only to further his own ambitions.
While Prince Viserys had been loved by the realm, the same could not be said for Prince Daemon, who was viewed in a far more unlikable light, especially after it was revealed that he was the one who had orchestrated the departure of the Healer Galen.
While the Succession had been near unquestionable when Prince Viserys was yet alive, his death had strengthened the Velaryon voices as more and more lords and ladies believed that the realm would be better served with Laenor Velaryon at the helm, with the wise hand of the Sea Snake guiding him along.
But the whispers were to remain as such until Prince Baelon still lived, and many prayed that he might live nearly as long a life as his own father. But alas, the fates were cruel, and the burdens of kingship weighed heavily on the shoulders of the Spring Prince, who found himself bound to his bed, as ailments of the mind and body continued to eat away at his life and legacy.
"I don't want to marry him," Rhaenyra begged as she met her eyes, and Alicent's heart broke as she saw the desperation in those amethyst orbs.
"I know," she said as she held her hand to share her warmth, and she desired the same thing for the girl in her lap, but for different reasons.
"Your mother won't let anything like that happen," and for some reason, Rhaenyra did not find those words very reassuring.
"My mother is but a Princess, and if Grandfather dies, then Daemon would be King," Rhaenyra countered, as she held her hand tightly.
"How would she even stop him?" and Rhaenyra doubted a mother's love, but she did not need to.
"She will, because she loves you. I love you," and the words slipped out of her mouth on instinct, and she felt the girl in her lap brighten up at her words.
"We all love you," she added, quietly as she tried to reassure her.
"We won't let anything happen to you," she promised, wondering in her mind if such promises were also made before the cruelty of Maegor tore apart the realm.
"I know," yet her words lacked conviction and surety, and she could not see her in that state, so she decided to divulge the greatest secret known to her.
"There is something else that you must know as well," she added, as Rhaenyra frowned as her own voice dropped to a whisper.
"What?" she asked.
"The King, he plans to call a Council," and those amethyst orbs widened, as Alysanne confirmed what had previously been just speculation and rumors.
"Grandfather plans on giving the throne to the Velaryons," and that was as bad a situation for her as marrying Daemon in many ways.
But Alicent shook her head.
"He plans on introducing a third claimant, one more suited to the throne than both Prince Daemon and Prince Laenor," Alicent added as she repeated the whispers she had heard from her own father's offices.
"Who?"
"The Princess Gael...."
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DAEMON TARGARYEN
Daemon's life had taken many a strange turn over the last few years. He had gone from being a pariah at the court to the heir apparent, and yet he was awarded none of the respect that came with that title.
He had been the heir now for more than three years, and yet whispers still lingered within the city as plotters and lickspittles tried to sully his name and reputation.
But Daemon would not let them succeed.
Daemon had the blood of the dragon running through his veins, and he would claim his rightful place one way or another, no matter what those lords may whisper or plan.
Everyone in the realm already knew of Corlys's plans for how he planned on using his Wife's heritage to make a claim for his children, and it irked him to this day that they had let this farce go on for so long.
The Velaryons were servants. They were meant to bow at their feet, and now that damned Sea Snake dared to think that he could replace the Targaryen blood on the throne, all because he had made some gold sailing across the Seas.
It was preposterous, and Daemon would have quashed this little rebellion in a second, yet his father's damning desire for peace had stayed his hand. For many years, Daemon had looked up to Baelon Targaryen. He had felt proud of being the son of the man who had burned the pirate fleet that had killed his brother to a crisp.
And yet Kingship had made the Spring Prince a hollow man, and he had lost all his vigor and strength, leaving behind an old and decrepit man, clinging to a time long gone.
The Velaryons were committing treason, and more than that, they were openly flaunting their disregard for the King's Laws, yet the King refused to act. It was a display of weakness unworthy of a King. Unworthy of a Targaryen.
And now he knew the reason for his inaction.
"Are you certain of this?" he asked, as he overlooked the city from the top floor of Mysaria's brothel, which had become like a second home to him. The place had changed much from the downtrodden two-story building that it had been before, and was now made of finest stone and had become the largest pleasure House within the city because of his patronage.
"I am afraid so, my Prince," Mysaria answered as the cold air tingled his bare chest, and Mysaria herself sat on a chair behind him, clad in a robe held together by her hand as she read the latest report from her informant within the Castle.
"The King has written a letter to the Healer asking him to come back," and it was not just that which irked him. It was what he intended for him to do.
"He has asked him to help heal Princess Gael's womb so that she can give birth to a child," and with that, his intentions were clear. There had been rumors about this for some time, yet Daemon had refused to believe them for he could not fathom how his own father could betray him like that.
He had thought his inaction against the Velaryons was because of some inane sense of guilt over the loss of their daughter. But he was wrong.
There was something far more sinister brewing within the Red Keep, and it was time for him to face that cruel truth.
"So, he truly plans on supplanting me with his sister," Daemon whispered, and with the threat of the Velaryons, it was a rumor that a Grand Council might be needed to settle on the succession, and he had made a strategy to gather the votes.
For many years, the lords and the ladies had mocked him for the lack of an heir, and Daemon had little choice but to grit his teeth and accept those insults, for he would rather be mocked than lie with that Bronze Bitch.
Initially, he had thought that Gael would have made a suitable wife for him, yet his barrenness made her useless as a wife and a woman. So, he found himself a better prospect. One far younger, influential, and suitable to his needs.
Rhaenyra had the same blood as him running through her veins and was the daughter of Viserys. Their marriage would unite their lines and further elevate his position. It was a good match, and yet that damned Otto and his daughter had poisoned her mind against him, and the girl that had once looked to him for everything now shunned his every approach.
But that would not remain so for long.
"I had hoped that it would not come to this," Daemon whispered as he turned away from the city and towards the idle form of Mysaria, who sat on her chair and raised a brow.
"I know," she answered as she slowly walked up to him and gently pulled her arms around him to comfort his aching heart.
"No man should ever have to face such a betrayal," she whispered in his ear.
"A part of me feared that the rumors might hold a kernel of truth indeed. Yet I did not want to believe it. I did not wish to believe that my own father would betray me like this," Daemon gritted out, and the last words had become a whisper as his teeth gnashed against one another.
"What will you do now?"
"I will take what is rightfully mine...."
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