Chapter 24
The burning of the Red Temple remained a mystery to many in Volantis. It would take a week for the fires to die down, it was believed that it had taken a nominal lake to put down the raging fires.
Many hailed it as a sign from the Red God himself, and the Red Priests often worshipped the very fire that burnt their very temple to a husk, many even tried to stop the efforts to put down the first, calling it an intervention to their God's work.
The damage and the catastrophe would allow the instigators to escape, with Daemon leaving Volantis the night of the burning, which would eventually become a riot in months as the Magisters and rulers of the city tried to find the men behind this great catastrophe.
Back in Meereen, the city was going through tumultuous times, the slave masters had been driven out of power yet they were not without means. The city was continuously attacked by hoards of Dothraki, or mercenary companies hired by the Wise Masters to regain control of the city.
Meereen would bleed, thousands would die, but they would hold strong.
Meereen would hold onto its freedom even in the absence of its famed Liberator, who would come to its aid once more in its most dwindling hour.
Morro watched as the hoard of Dothraki laid waste to the city, watched as their houses burnt, their men bled, and their women were taken infront of their eyes. The weeks of assault had finally weakened their defenses, and now they were suffering.
The young Khal, a man named Drogo, slew the best of their men and basked in their blood as his khalasar laid waste to their city.
"HOLDDD!" "FOR MEEREEN!"
"FOR FREEDOM! HOLDDDD!" he screamed as his men pulled up their shields, but the Dothraki were relentless, their archers inhuman with their accuracy, and as an arrow hit one of his men through the gaps, the front line crumbled just as the Khal's blood-riders rode towards them.
"PULL BAC..."
But then it happened as he heard an all too familiar shout.
"SHIELDS UP AND ABOVE!" and those who recognized the shout raised their shields above them, forming a platform for a person to run across, and he watched as a man blurred above them and jumped at the two blood riders.
SLASH!
Their screams died down in an instant as their horses crashed into the shield walls, and their headless corpses fell to the ground.
"HE IS HERE!"
OUR SAVIOR IS HERE!"
"The Liberator!"
Yet he turned towards them with a menacing look.
"Is this how you should welcome me? Is this what we all labored for? To break our chains so we could have our people become slaves to these savages!" he asked, anger lacing his tongue!" and the men were dejected by the rebuke.
"You are no longer men who fight for your own freedom! Now that you have gained, you fight for your children, lovers, and daughters! Is there anyone here who would wish to be a slave once more!"
"NOOOO!" they screamed as one.
"Is it better to die a free man than a slave?"
"DIEEEE!" they answered.
"THEN COME AND RIDE TO YOUR DEATHS! FIGHT AND LEST US SHOW THEM WHAT WE ARE MADE OF!"
And so, the battle began once more, as the men charged forth, under his lead, and he was mesmerized once more as he had been all those years ago.
0000
DAEMON TARGARYEN
Gerold Hightower was a man of duty, much like his brethren in the White Cloak. He was a dutiful man who had kept to his vows in the worst of circumstances.
"You will not share a word of what truly happened tonight without my permission," he ordered the and the knight nodded, his face grim and his lips thin. He was repulsed by what he was being ordered to do, yet he would do his duty as he had done for Aerys.
"I will do as you order, your grace," he said finally, and Daemon nodded.
"A ceremony will be prepared soon enough. I will be discharging Ser Jamie from the Kingsguard on the account of his injury, begin a screening process to find his and Ser Lewyn's replacements," he ordered and the man nodded.
"But your grace the Kingsguard's oath..."
"Are for life. I know, but these are special circumstances, and Ser Jamie's disability is rather obvious," he added, and the man nodded.
"This could set a bad precedent," and that was a good point. Replacing Kingsgaurd like this was not something that had been done before, but there was always the first time for many things.
"And what of the id..."
KNOCK.KNOCK.
They were interrupted, and he looked up and found a guard enter the room.
"Your grace, Lady Genna Lannister is here to see you," and he nodded.
"Tell her to come in," he said as he turned towards the captain of the Kingsgaurd.
"We will talk later," and with that the man wan walked out as the sister of the Lord the West waked in.
Genna Lannister was a beautiful woman, born with the Lannister golden hair and bright green eyes. She looked much like her niece Cercei, yet unlike the young Cersei, her eyes were not filled with disdain and haughtiness. They were curious and inquisitive and, right now, filled with a hint of worry.
"Your grace, she bowed as the door was closed behind her.
"I have been waiting for you, Lady Lannister," he said as he beckoned her to sit down on the chair opposite to him.
She sat down hesitantly, knowing that one word from him and he could have her head, not that he intended anything of the sort. He was not in the mood to handle another rebellion, and one was brewing up right now.
"What do you want?" she asked after a pregnant pause, her voice strong, hiding the slight quiver of fear that she felt.
"I believe you have been told of the true nature of the events that transpired last night?" he asked. She nodded with thinned lips, and he could notice her struggling to keep her anger and disgust in check.
"But you had a suspicion already, didn't you?" he asked and saw her eyes widen.
After all, there was a reason that the twins were separated by their mother in the last years of her life.
"How could you know about that?" she gasped out.
"It doesn't matter. What matters is the honor of House Lannister and what you and your House can do to keep it untainted."
0000
OLENNA TYRELL
Olenna Tyrell was not fond of attending the court, in her age she had seen much of it already. It was an activity for the young and budding flowers, and there were many of them at Court today, dressed in the finest of gowns, made into the prettiest of faces as they stood and giggled hoping to catch the eye of their new and mysterious monarch.
She was dressed, too, in a rather fine gown as she sat on the balcony above as the King ascended the monstrosity that was the Iron Throne, and despite her age, she would never get accustomed to it.
It went beyond the balcony in height and cut an imposing figure by itself. Aegon's throne rarely suited a King. The Mad King, in his later years, looked raving mad as he sat in that thing, often cutting himself with the protruding edges of the swords of Aegon's enemies.
Yet Daemon Targaryen was not his father. The boy blended into the monstrosity, adding to it with his menacing gaze as he looked at the court gathered down below. Only his gaze was enough to quieten the whimpering flowers.
It had been two days since the 'supposed' assassination attempt on the King, and though such a thing was not out of the realm of possibilities, she had a hunch that they were not being told the truth. That there was much more to it than they had come to know.
"Many of you must already know of the treachery that took place two days ago. Our enemies tried to kill me, to destroy us all, pit us against one another once more," he began, his voice booming through the Hall.
"Despite their attempt due to the heroics of one of my Kingsgaurd," and at this, he pointed towards the man in question, and Tywin's young brat looked pale and weak and shifty as he gave a forced smile.
Already, rumors were circulating around the court about what the King was doing on the balcony with the Jewel of the West. Many were expecting a betrothal, and it did make sense. The Lannisters were a powerful house loaded with Gold and men. They would make good allies to teh throne.
Yet the King was not looking for allies, that much she had reasoned out. No, Daemon Targaryen was looking to rule over them, not with them. And he was not being subtle about it, rejecting her own offer of betrothal as he had made her look at his actions once more to spot a pattern, a pattern of increasing the Crown's power.
"Their plans were foiled, and their men slain. But many of you wish to know just who were these enemies," he began as he rose to his feet.
"The very enemy that has tried to usurp my family many times, an enemy we had thought long gone," he added, and she realised just who he was referring to as a mum spread all over the throne room.
"BLACKFYRE," he screamed, and many gasped at that accursed name, the line of Daemon Blackfyre.
"Many of us had thought their line ended when we slew the last of their males decades ago, but we failed, and now the Black Dragon rears its head once more. It even sent an agent to divide us, to destroy my House, and he nearly succeeded until he was slain by my own blade," he shouted.
"I speak of the Spider, the spymaster that came from across the Seven Seas," and there were murmurs at that claim.
And she did not know whether the King was lying or if this was another ploy of his, and of so then, for what purpose.
"He was sent to divide us, pit us against one another, as he spewed his poison in the late King's ear. But the war is behind us now, and we are one once more, one nation, and we will NEVER SUBMIT TO THEIR TYRANNY!" he roared as others joined him.
"They are hidden yet, across the Sea, sheltered by people who would see us all enslaved to them. Yet their dreams shall never come true! We are one, and we shall be ready to face them, and for that, I announce the creation of an army to combat this impending threat!" and many a lord and knight cheered at that, and she finally saw his purpose.
Whether the attack was real or not, it mattered little now. This was the King's intended purpose.
"A force that will defend us from those foul beasts coming to raid our lands! A ROYAL ARMY!" he added.
"You are quite clever," she muttered under her breath, for attaching the creation of an army to such a cause would give him much power, and any those who would complain against such overture from the Crown would be labeled as a Blackfyre sympathizer.
"Details for it shall be revealed soon. But before that, we must honor the man who went beyond his duty in protecting his king and Killing the assassins," and with that, he turned towards the Kingsguard, guiding him.
"Step forth, Ser Jamie," and the golden blonde stepped forward.
"You have served loyally. You have given a hand in your duty," the King began as her eyes went to the stump on his arm.
"And for your services, the Crown thanks you and rewards you by freeing you of your vows so that you may serve us once more as you have done so before," and many gasped at that.
"If not as a Kingsgaurd, then as the heir to the Westerlands."
0000
Across the Narrow Sea, in Pentosh, a plump man sat eating his meal, reading the word he had received from his men.
"So, he knew of Varys's true heritage?" he began as he ate a plum with his bare hands, its juices spreading all over his fingers.
"And he knew about us and our plans as well," the servant added.
"That is unfortunate indeed," he said, snarling, yet his eyes did not dim.
"But it matters little. We have waited for so long, what are a few more years. We will try again, but until then, let us throw a little hurdle in his way," he said, turning towards the servant.
"Have missives sent to the exiled slave masters of Meereen. Tell them I have a proposition to make. Ask them if they hunger for revenge?"
0000
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