Aenyx the Insane (A ASOIAF story)

[Tenart]

"How are you faring, my lord?" he heard the voice of the leader knight, Sir Selvy, his name was. He looked at his shining armour, decorated with the sigil of a white seahorse on a field of blue. He chuckled lightly and held his laugh to himself. After all, these people seemed crazy enough to play make-believe; god knows what else they would do to play their precious game.

Speaking of that, he looked at the shithole they called village. It was all muddy and filthy, and he could swear he could see cows and sheep dumping on the road. The mad men didn't even bother to asphalt the road for their game.

He realised he hadn't answered the knight enthusiast, "I'm absolutely miserable, sir. How are you?"

"Same as always, my lord."

He frowned at that, "'My lord'? How's that I'm a lord and live in a garbage town?"

"You're not a lord with a land... my lord," he explained, "You are an illegitimate son of the king. Therefore, you are referred to by the title lord."

He stared at him and realised he was unusually tall. "A bastard? You expect me to play a bastard for you?"

Sir Selvy sadly smiled at him, "I understand you, my lord. The king begot you out of wedlock; of course, it would leave an unhealable mark upon you. I suggest you embrace it and not flee from it."

Rage filled him, and he was about to retort, but a loud cry stopped him, "I'm ready!"

They turned back to see Mertha with a small bag. Sir Selvy nodded and turned to his men, "We are off to go! Ready your horses!" Then, something unexpected happened. He got down and picked him up.

"What are you doing!" he said furiously.

"We are to ride Blackberry, my lord," he pointed his finger at some point towards them.

He followed the finger and then saw a terrifying creature. A giant black horse! "That's Blackberry?"

"Indeed, he is," said Sir Selvy as he put him upon the horse, despite his protests, "A very dear friend of mine and a great ride."

"This is a monster," he remarked.

"He's not a monster. He's just a sweet little boy," he caressed his horse.

"Pah! if you say so."

A concerned look appeared on Mertha's face, "Ser, is it not safer if Aenyx was to ride with me?"

"Do not worry, my lady," said Sir Selvy, "Your son will be safe with me. For you see, I am his sworn knight, after all."

"Sworn knight?!" he deeply frowned at that, "What does that mean?"

The knight enthusiast turned to him, "It means that by the orders of his grace, King Aegon, I shall always be on your side and protect you from harm, my lord."

"WHAT?" he jerked, "I'm not your plaything! If we are to play, we play with my rules, and I don't want you to shadow me!"

"I'm afraid that's what my task is to do, my lord," said Sir Selvy.

"You for sure are a creep, kind sir," he backtalked him.

The knight turned to Mertha, "My lady, I do not want to question your parenthood, but please think something about your son's manner of talk. If he talks to any of the high lords like that, they would ask for his head."

"That is something my son and I will talk about lengthy."

He ground his teeth and turned to Mertha, "I'M NOT YOUR SON!" he shouted, and his shout disturbed Blackberry as the horse, with all speed, ran in the opposite direction of the party, into the western exit of the village. All while he held Blackberry's neck tightly. Slowly, he noticed the over-repetition of trees and not a settlement around. And he realised that he was lost. Damn you freaking ego. he tried cautiously to get the horse's bridle, but he lost his balance for a second and decided to do nothing in the hope that Blackberry won't kill him.

He did not know how much, but after a long time, he heard the weak sound of the river and breathed in relief, knowing the horse would stop. However, he felt a sudden rush of blood pouring through him and all his organs flying high, and the realisation hit him hard as he shouted: "HE JUMPED! HE JUMPED." A few seconds later, they landed on the other side of the river, but it did not calm the horse down as Blackberry started to run again. Now he was in tears. What did I do to deserve this? he slowly looked up and saw the sun had come down.

Suddenly, Blackberry hit down, and with that, he fell. He groaned in pain as he raised his head and met a sharp pointy thing that he realised was a sword. "Th-that's a sword," he stated.

"It sure is, boy!" said a mocking voice.

He looked further up and saw a man wearing torn cloth with a horrible grin on his face, "Oh, I don't like that smile and the implication you're sending with this sword."


He laughed wickedly, "Our little youngling has his way with words, hasn't he?"

"I'm not an actual child, you halfwit dolt!"

At that, the bandit's face hardened. "Kill the horse. We take the boy," the man harshly put him up.

He, however, dumbfounded, asked, "Kill the horse? why?"

The bandit didn't answer. Instead, he turned him around to let him see it himself, and he saw it, alright: Blackberry, tired and injured with an arrow in his legs, was hardly exhaling. Another bandit was going towards the poor horse to kill it. He felt miserable and guilty for the sight he saw, "I knew you freaks were serious in your game but to this extent?"

Suddenly, the loud leap of a horse stopped them; they turned back, only to see Sir Donatyon Selvy flying his sword in his hand and running towards them. The bandit left him and unsheathed his sword. It was impressive acting from all parties. As Sir Selvy approached, he beheaded the bandit and ran towards the other. The head fell in front of his feet. With shock and fear, he fell on his hips, staring directly at the head. He saw the blood coming out, the bandit's mouth open and eyes halp-closed. He was dead! The bandit was dead!

He turned around and saw Sir Selvy riding to the second bandit. The man was clever, though, as he pierced his sword through the horse and made the knight fell. The bandit hit Sir Selvy's arm. The knight yelled in pain, severely picked his sword, and thrusted it through the man's eyes. The bandit fell and died.

Sir Selvy went to his horse and gently carresed him as Blackberry slowy bore to his demise. The knight then fell onto the ground.

Witnessing the scene, he raised from the ground and, with widened eyes, walked towards Sir Selvy. He lifted the knight and dragged him towards a direction that ended to a road. When he reached there, he saw a group of people, with the last of his breath he shouted: "HELP!" and then closed his eyes.

 

[Tenart]

He woke up by the sound of the wind breath between the bushes which soon replaced by the sound of men shout and curse. He felt the soft pillow under his head and a long blanket of blue covered his body. His tired vision managed to see an empty goblet next to the bed he was resting. He sensed the scent of the goblet and found out it was anything but wine. Shame, i would just love to replace my thoughts with drunkness. He pulled away the blanket and sat abed. I just witness the death of two men and two horses, He thought before seeing himself in the mirror. His body was of a toddler, his hair silver and his eyes, the shades of purple. I'm definitely not the same person I died as. The implication is of course obvious, but I don't want to accept it. He then thought of his new self, Aenyx, of how he prefers the eternal darkness over this, then of the questions he will not find an answer to, so better to be not asked at all.

Does killing counts as an ordinary part of life in these wretched lands? Sir Selvy defended my to be gone life with slaying two men. two men who were to kidnapp me for...gold mayhaps? what does prevails men to kill their own? would my saviours, the owners of this... tent, kill me for whatever reason? By now the sounds from outside were louder and harsher. alot of cheering were added to them too. he looked over the tent he was resting in, it was not rich and bright, but rather dull and gery. if anything it more looked like the storage of a grand market than a tent. The least of their hospitality i guess. they did provide me with a bed to sleep at. he finally stand out of bed saw his wearings, a simple nightshirt in white. he couldn't show himself in this, fheor that he searched the room with his eyes and found a closet. I'm sure they wouldn't mind if i just sneak into their clothes and wear one of them.

When he opened the closet, he found the most interesting shirt amongst the sea of them, a loose-fitting blouse with long sleeves, fuller at the bottom than the top, and gathered into a cuff, decorated with large frills on the front and on the cuffs with the fabrics which reminded him of satin. Huh, it's a 'poet shirt'. i'm so gonna wear this. he took the shirt, a pair of black trousers and a belt. he then pulled the shirt into the trousers and tied the belt to it and tightened it. Prefect dressing. but now that i think about it, i cannot help but wonder, how they have such thing? i mean the tent does not look rich.

When he finally felt ready, he went outside. he faced several tents in different colouring. there were a silver and gold tent, a wavy green and green tent, a barry wavy green, white, and yellow tent, Ugh, the worst set of colours together, and the most prominent of them, a gold and white tent. he then looked back at his own tent and saw nothing but grey. Yep, mine was the storage. he walked between the tents, letting them to lead him through to an open field. in the middle of the field, a hole had been dug, where the courses came from. he frowned at the implication. gladiators then, i hope they won't make me fight. he continued the walking until he reached the point where he could see the poor men fighting. they wore brown or grey chain mail, long black boots, with helmets that were often just had a cap and a nose guard, different from any armour a knight would wear. They're something of a viking for sure.

"'Tis beautiful, isn't." said a voice next to him. Aenyx, suprised, looked up at the source, the man was in his twenties, had short hair and was wearing a silver cape over a dark blue doublet with black breeches.

"Why?"

He looked at him smiling "Because I catched some Ironborn oafs." he said waiting for a laugh.

"So?" Aenyx answered confused by his remark on 'Ironborn'.

He looked at him for a moment before laughing. "Oh well it seems I have to explain things." he turned to the hole again. "You see my good friend, as a merchant, I should live in fear that my goods would always be in the fate of reaving by these savage Ironborns. so when i took command of my dear ship, The Comet, I fille it with guards for when the Ironborns attack, I'll be ready. of course their greed will led them right into my grip. their fate in my hands. when that occured, i bring them to this landscape and invite the neighbouring lords and the wealthiest merchants of Riverlands to come here and watch as these Ironborns fight in a competition." he said as he pointed to the people siting in a large open front tent with servants and musicians, watching. viking gladiators then.

"So what is the prize they're comepiting for?" he asked.

"Death" he said smiling.

"What?" Aenyx said with eyes wide open.

"The sweet release of death, for their bloodthirsty god is waiting for them in the sea." he explained.

"That's extremly dark, so all these Ironborns want to die?" he said horrified and disgusted.

"Yes indeed. they did not beg us to imprison them, instead they beg us to kill them in a fight, but the only fight for them was to each other. oh they raised voices, said they can't kill their own for the Drowned god would be furious of them. but i did not care for their cries of disagreement, instead, i argued that they have to fight each other or die like a rat, in which in the latter they wouldn't have any place in their god's heaven. they of course chose the former."

"And now they killing each other?"

"Oh no no no no, the loosers will be alive, they will have a pathetic death while the winner wins the death for the drowned god." he said mockingly

"You'd think since the champion has bested all his friends and proved to be the stongest of them all, he would like to keep his life."

"Apparently not, they all ask for death."

"Which is a normal thing to want?"

"Now you're understanding the concept." he said victoriously.

"I'm not, no." Aenyx responded while the man just keep smiling as he turned to see the fight. Well he for sure is a high-functioning sociopath. the two continued to witness the comepetition in silence for a while when the man suddenly said: "Valter Mooton."

Aenyx looked at him confused. "What?"

"My name is Valter Mooton, the heir to Maidenpool and also the one you shouted at 'HELP' we brought your friend to the Maester's tent, he's now tending to him." he then eyed Aenyx' clothing "I see you tended to yourself quit well."

"Wearing your clothes, my show of gratitude." he said using an innocent child's look. "People seems to call me Aenyx and that knight you rescued is Sir Donatyon Selvy, he just loves to follow me around."

"You're a noble then?" he asked.

"Whatever made you think that?"

"Well since a sworn shield is oft a commoner or a lesser noble, granting their services to a greater noble not vice versa, so the only logical explanation is that you are of high noble birth." he said with respect.

"Well i don't know what to tell you mate, instead of having confusion as my epitaph, i'm leaving through it. i woke up one day and from then he is following me, also, it seems like your king is my father." he said waiting for Mooton to be suprised but instead he nodded.

"That is a possible observation since you have his silver look and the king is notoriously known for siring children out of wedlock. if that is true, we should return you to him as soon as possible." he stated.

"Why?" Aenyx asked. he didn't really knew what to expact of this situation, on one hand, he was of king's blood A bastard to be honest. on the other hand, kings are known for killing the potential threaths and he does not desire a death right now.

"Well because it's the king's decree. he summoned you all to King's Landing, he..." he was cut off by Aenyx saying "Wait, 'you all'? how many are they?"

Mooton thought for a second and then said: "As far as i'm aware, there is at the very least, five of them."

"Five bastards?" he was both shocked and scared, this increases the chance that he wants me dead.

"More if you believe the rumours." he said as he began to walk. "Follow me my friend, if you are a bastard of the king, we should set off to Maidenpool right now."

Aenyx with confusion followed him: "Why Maidenpool?"

"The seat of house Mooton is also a maritime mercantile city, we have the fastest ships, even if Velaryons claim otherwise, hells my Comet could take us to King's Landing in less than a sennight."

"Alright but what about this tournament of yours or Sir Selvy? we can't just go right now and left them here." Aenyx said. more than Selvy or the tournament, he was concern about the fate that would befall him. 'The sweet release of death'

"Don't worry my lord, our party should be ready by the eve, from here to Maidenpool is less than a day-night's ride. we should probably be there by midnight. we just need to have my lord father's premision and then we will set off for king's landing." he said as he entered the gold and white tent. "Now my lord, go to the maester's tent, it's the one at the end of this round right there" he then pointed towards the messy coloured tent "next to the tent of House Butterwall. go and inform the maester of our change of plan and also visit your friend." then he disapeared into his tent.

I'm so very uncomfortable with this plan. Aenyx thought as he walked towards the maester's tent, there he eyed the 'Butterwall' tent for a second. Who thought two greens and yellow would match? he then entered the tent and saw an awake Sir Selvy talking to the maester. "Ah...hello, Valter Mooton sent me, he said the Mooton party should pack right now for Maidenpool."

Maester nodded and said a few words to Selvy that Aenyx didn't care to listen, then he left the tent for some reason. for a minute, there was silence between the two as Aenyx akwardlly sat next to Selvy. "Mooton wants us to get to King's Landing through the ships in Maidenpool." Aenyx said.

"Lord." Selvy coldly said as he took his sword and stand up. he was wearing a simple tunic but the bandage on his left arm was noticeable.

"What?" asked Aenyx in confusaion. Confused, it's becoming my most used word.

"You should refer to the heir of Maidenpool or any heir lower than the crown prince by the title of Lord. it's part of the courtesy behaviour you need to know when you're in the royal court." his voice was still cold.

"That's the thing you are concerned with? not that i technically led your horse to its demise..."

"No" Selvy interfered. he then turned to Aenyx and looked him in his eyes. "I am your sworn shield my lord. my duty is to protect you, to correct your behaivour when i know you would not survive the court with that tongue. i am not just your guard, i am your shadow and if in the line of duty, my horse has to die, so be it." his voice cracked for a second at the last part. he looked sad. Damnit, i'm now sad.

Just as Aenyx was about to answer, Valter Mooton entered the tent, smiling. Why is he always smiling? and said "Good news Lord Aenyx, our party has no problems whatsoever to move for Maidenpool, we should be there by the time i mentioned. i also sent a raven for Maidenpool to inform my lord father." he didn't noticed the frown at Aenyx' face when he mentioned 'Raven' as he turned to Selvy "Good afternoon to you Sir Selvy. why a sad face? you survived death or... loosing a hand if i'm informed correctly."

Before Selvy could answer i jumped in "He's sad because his black stallion died."

Selvy frowned at that but Valter with his happy face said: "Well that's no concern at all! if you cry for a day-night that horse of yours will come back to life." he said as if he was stating a fact.

"That's not true." Aenyx responded

"Yes it is. When i was a mere child, my mother died, i cried for her so hard that she came back from dead back to life, with a new face, in the hands of my lord father when he retired from his day to his chambers." he explained

"Kinda sounds like your father just married another woman, probably another lord's daughter." said Aenyx. he wasn't sure if Mooton was joking or if he actually believed his words.

"No! my tears brought her back from death." he said joyfully

"So where is..."

"Death is not permanent." Mooton stated.

"For what is worth," interfered Selvy as he turned to Valter "I thank you Lord Valter. I do not know about Lord Aenyx, but i owe you a favour."

"No Sir Selvy you don't. i helped you just for the kindness of my heart and that kindness rewarded me with having the king's bastard in my party." he then went to the maester's desk and poured sime wine "To your health and my wealth, Sir Selvy" and drank it. "Now you shall get ready sir. we will set off by the eve." he said as he made way towards the exit. Donatyon nodded at that and went to search the room for his armour. Aenyx felt he probably cannot pull all that armour himself, so he went to help him.

---

By the midnight, as Valter had predicted, the party were at Maidenpool. the city was like nothing Aenyx had ever seen. it was built over a hill and had great stony walls that lengthed from the castel at top of the hill to the low parts of the city which the gates located. he saw the harbour that was busy even at night and some ships waiting there and thought about which one of them is to ride them to the pit of death that is King's Landing. he was embarrassed when Valter mentioned a certain pool for maidens and that Aenyx could visit them because no one would recognise him for a boy. It seems a silver hair is enough to be consider effeminate. the castle of House Mooton however, was a pretty regular one, nothing special that distinguished it from the ones of the French or Scottish dukes.

They went to the Lord Mooton's solar because the time he would answer the calls in the main hall has ended hours ago. What lazy lord. when they entered the solar, Aenyx faced a red faced old man in night shirt with a goblet of wine sitting next to a goat. "Well greetings to my dear guests. servants bring them chairs." he said as he went and sat in his chair behind his desk. Not the best first impression, don't you think so old man?

As Aenyx and Selvy sat, Valter went next to his father. "My lord Aenyx, Sir Selvy, i introduce you to my lord father, Daenar Mooton." That's the weirdest name i've ever heard.

"Yes, yes, lord Daenar Mooton, a pretty name isn't my lord" he told Aenyx "You know why is that? well i tell you. you see my lord father, the late Manfryd Mooton, was the most loyal to your great-uncle, King Aegon III, and he proved that by naming his firstborn and the only child to be honest after a Valyrian name."

Oh here's that word again. Aenyx forced a smal smile "Good for him."

"Indeed good for him." he agreed "he proved his loyalty, and my son and i, will prove ours with sending you my lord, safely to your home."

"I assure you that's not my home."

That got him a chuckle. "Do say my lord, do you believe in the beauty of nature?" he said as he touched the goat and drank his wine.

What? "I'm not sure where are you directing our talk."

"Have you ever witnessed the coupling of two animals?" he said as he drank yet another wine.

"That's not a subject i want to talk about." Aenyx said uncomfortably. he looked at Selvy for help but the knight just looked down.

"But have you ever imagined it?" Daenar continued.

"I don't wanna." Aenyx said disgusted.

"But you can imagine it, right?" Daenar said. I think he's talking out of exprience.

"That will get me bad dreams." Aenyx answered.

"I'd have dreams too." Daenar kind of agreed.

"Can't help but notice you left out the word 'bad'"

"Father which one of our ships will have Lord Aenyx and Sir Selvy?" Valter interfered. Thank god.

"The Comet, you will take command of the ship" Daenar stated. That's not good then the drunk lord turned to Aenyx again. "Are you excited for the journey my lord?"

"Oh i cannot wait to get the hell outa here, far away from you, you freekin' lizard kisser." Aenyx finally let it out. he quickly regretted saying that.

That got a loudy laugh from Daenar. "Oh my lord you for sure have your wits," he turned to Selvy "You better protect him good Sir, with that wit, it won't be long before an accident would befall the prince Aenyx Targaryen."

Selvy's and Valter's eyes went wide while Aenyx looked confused. Daenar again laughed "Oh i forgot to mention that. you see King Aegon the fourth of his name has layed rest, he's dead. as his last wish, he legitimised the lot of his bastards. now King Dearon sits upon the Iron throne and he requested all of his half-brothers and sisters to be in King's Landing." Daenar explained

All of Aenyx' thoughts crushed there, he could only think of fratricide. fratricide that will befall him.

 

[Tenart]

Standing upon the deck, Aenyx couldn't help but feel dull. It was perhaps three days when they sat off into the sea, and all he remembered of land now was but a dream. The Comet, or 'the pride of Maidenpool', as Valter would like to call it, was speedy, for it swept them through the peninsula they called Crackclaw Point. Still, it would take them a weak before they reach King's Landing. And thank god for that, he thought. He held no desire to meet this brother of his. In fact, He would've taken a horse and ridden it through the abyss to get away from his brother. Perhaps then he would die for real, and this nightmare would end.

But alas, he was still alive.

"A great view, wouldn't agree, my prince?" said a voice familiar voice. Aenyx turned to see Valter Mooton, wearing his creepy smile.

"Greetings, Lord Valter."

"Just Valter, my prince, I insist," he pleaded, "After all, we're comrades in a sailing adventure. Should a pirate gang or an Ironborn band of reavers attack us, would you have the time to call me by my title or just by my name?"

Aenyx huffed, "Fine. However, you should still call me by my title. We wouldn't want to become too friendly, right?" And, you know, I'm starting to like my title; he left this part unsaid.

"Gladly, my prince," he said while beaming, which annoyed Aenyx greatly.

Aentyx returned his gaze towards the sea, "So, Valter, care to tell me where are we?"

"If you looked westwards, my prince, you could see a glimpse of Crackclaw Point disappearing into the air, so with my estimations, we are near the Claw Isle and a sennight from King's Landing."

An Isle? Aenyx faintly smiled, "Can we land on Claw Isle for a time, Valter?" he asked, counting on the fact that this isle would be somewhat similar to tropical islands.

Valter only laughed at that, "Why should we, my prince? Claw Isle is barren and useless if we want to fill our supplies. It's a sad embodiment of infirmness. Also, I've heard its ruler, Lord Celtigar, is not of a welcoming sort. I wouldn't even think of nearing there. Plus, we have a destination to reach, and delays are tolerated neither by the king nor by me."

Aenyx raised an eyebrow at that, "Do you know my brother by person, Valter?"

"No, my prince. But based on history, the Targaryen kings were always short-tempered, no offence intended."

Aenyx hid his disappointment but soon thought of another way to approach his question: how well-behaved is his new family. "Valter, could you teach me the history of my family?"

Valter seemed surprised by the question, "My prince, I thought you had learned the history in your home town?"

"Apparently, I had not."

And so, Valter spent the next ten minutes on the horror story that is the Targaryens. Aenyx lost the count of how many times he grimaced at the mentions of the kinslaying, dragons, and worst of all, incest. Ugh! No surprise his father went out of his way siring bastards: he was ill-minded from his birth bed. And the thought of impregnating his sister probably helped the process. "What a wonderful family I have," he remarked.

"Indeed, my prince," Valter agreed.

Suddenly, they heard sounds of argument and shouts from the other corner of the ship. When they looked there, Aenyx saw an old sailor shouting and warning his fellows. Instantly, Valter rushed to him. Aenyx, out of sudden interest, followed him.

"What has gone to you, old man?" Valter asked him.

"A storm, captain! A storm is gathering on the sea! We must turn around, or else we'll die in its agony!"

That raised whispers from the sailors. Valter's face went still as he took a moment to look and analyse the sea. As Aenyx observed, a black cloud was forming in the clear sky, foretelling a storm soon approaching. Valter returned his gaze to his sailors, "Return to your works, men, and fear not, for that is not a storm, but a black ship flying to his heaven. If you allow me, Prince Aenyx and I have some matters to attend to, isn't it right, my prince?" he asked Aenyx.

"I think so?" Aenyx hesitantly answered, and Valter nodded at that. They hurriedly rushed to the captain's solar, where Valter sat behind his desk.

"So, Valter, what is it?" Aenyx asked.

"That is a storm, my prince."

"What!?" Aenyx widened his eyes, "But you said to those men..."

"Only to reassure them, my prince. That is, in fact, a storm and a brutal one, at that."

"What should we do? what should we do?" Aenyx panicked.

"Nothing too dangerous, my prince. We pierce through the storm and hope for the best," Valter casually answered.

Aenyx went still for a moment and stared at him, "That's it? That's how you, an acclaimed captain, approach storms?"

"Well, there's simply no other way for us, my prince," Valter retorted, "We cannot turn around or take another way. The storm is too big to allow us to move out of its way."

Aenyx's mind suddenly recalled the island near them, "Why not go to the Claw Isle, Valter?"

Valter clapped for him, "That's a smart suggestion, my prince. Well done. Too bad we cannot sail there."

"What? why?"

"Well, a reason for the island's poorness is that seldom ships sail there. For all the ships fear the spears of the Merling King."

"Elaborate," said Aenyx.

"These are treacherous seamounts shaped like columns that could thrust into even a galley and break it down to pieces. The Comet cannot meet them and survive their encounter; should we sail to Claw Isle."

"Are you saying that some pillar-shaped rocks raised from the sea are more dangerous than a storm coming at us?"

"I'm not implying which one is a greater danger, my prince. I'm merely saying that you should consider the talk of an experienced mariner," said Valter sternly with a touch of concern in his eyes. No smiling? now I have doubts

"Say Valter," Aenyx thought through his words, "Have you ever witnessed these spears?"

"Well...no."

"Then, I ask you to, for this time, ignore the experience of sailors and lead us into the safety, captain."

Valter thought for a minute and sighed in defeat, "Fine, we shall sail for Claw Isle."

"Great," Aenyx smiled victoriously. Now, he could take shelter in Claw Isle and never come to King's Landing.

---

Well, damn me, thought Aenyx as he witnessed the scenes before him. As the nightfall approached, the ship sailed into Claw Isle's shores. However, those spears weren't what Aenyx expected. An hour ago, a strong wind led The Comet into one of the spears. It pierced through its hulk and left a giant hole behind. Suddenly, the spears were thrusting into the ship, left and right, and their strong thrust led the sailors to fall onto the sea.

As the nightfall passed, they finally landed on the isle. Although the ship, once mighty and fair, only remained a ruin. As Aenyx sighed in relief, he turned to find Ser Selvy under some chests. He, of course, helped his sworn shield to get up. They searched for Valter only to find him beneath one of the fallen sails. He wasn't hurt, unfortunately; Around the early dawn, they got out of the ship and went to the harbour with the remaining members of the crew.

"Shouldn't a party come and greet us?" Aenyx asked Ser Selvy.

"We arrived unexpectedly, my prince. I don't think Lord Celtigar is awake at the hour of the dawn to see us landing."

"Nathless, we should inform him of our arrival," Valter decided to join their conversation. Unusually, he wasn't wearing a smile.

"Agreed, my lord," said Ser Selvy as he turned towards the harbour's tavern, "I believe the innkeeper would spare us two horses."

"Only two?" Aenyx asked, "Are we not three persons?"

"Indeed, but your last ride with a horse did not go well, did it, my prince?" Ser Selvy rhetorically asked him. Although, his tone wasn't one out of meanness or sarcasm.

"You're right there," Aenyx admitted in defeat.

The ride through the fields was uneventful. Aenyx noticed how empty and bare the land seemed compared to the greenness of the domains he had beheld before.

They reached a wooden gate and the entrance to the town. The gatekeeper was asleep, and so the three entered freely. Aenyx noticed that everything seemed pretty ordinary and outdated for a medieval city. Houses looked like village huts, and the 'castle' was no more than a simple marble tower, which they headed to, for neither Ser Selvy nor Valter wanted to waste time. Valter, especially, seemed distressed by the isle.

All eyes widened at the silver-looking prince as Aenyx and his companions walked into the little castle. When they reached the main hall, Aenyx felt a headache from the gloomy atmosphere and the lack of candlelights. His eyes hardly could see a throne-like chair at the end of the hall. They came closer to it, and then the figure of a person cleared: a man, wearing rich silver silk, with long inky black hair, who was hearing the petition of a peasant. His eyes suddenly fell on Aenyx, and Aenyx felt frozen from his cold gaze. This man must be Lord Celtigar, he thought.

Lord Celtigar raised from his seat, and the peasant instantly went out of his way. He walked forward to Aenyx as he lowly bowed, "Cedryc Celtigar, lord of Claw Isle," he introduced himself, "And I gather you are a prince of the realm, your grace?"

"You gather correctly, my lord," Aenyx answered proudly, "My name is Prince Aenyx, and these are my companions, Lord Valter Mooton and Ser Donatyon Selvy."

Lord Celtigar nodded at them and then returned his gaze to Aenyx. He stood straight, way taller than Aenyx. "I have met the king's children, my prince, and none of them is named Aenyx. So, I can only think that you are but a bastard son of King Aegon?"

"No longer, my lord," said Ser Selvy, "King Aegon legitimised his children while on his deathbed."

"How great," Lord Celtigar answered, unimpressed, "Then I'm inclined to throw a feast for the royal prince."

"Oh, thank you for your hospitality, my lord," Valter stepped in, "But we need only a ship for you to deliver Prince Aenyx safely to King's Landing."

"The only way out of this isle is how you entered it."

"You mean those spears by your shores?" Aenyx asked sarcastically.

"So, you are shipwrecked," Lord Celtigar concluded, "Then we can only wait for one of my galleys to return."

"Well, till then, we shall have a feast in honour of me!" Aenyx declared.

Lord Celtigar bowed again, "Indeed, we shall, my prince."

---

The feast was unpleasant. That's the highest praise Aenyx could give, for he was utterly disappointed with how lukewarm and lacklustre the banquet for a royal prince like him was. He was sitting beside the intimating Lord Celtigar and dared not to utter a word. On one side of the table sat Lord Celtigar's wife, Lady Darklyn, who seemed feeble and sick, and Maester Ermand. On the other side sat Valter and Ser Selvy. For most of the time, they were only dining. Occasionally, Valter would start a small talk with Lord Celtigar, which ended as quickly as possible. Altogether, Aenyx felt unhappy.

"... And that's how I met Prince Aenyx," Valter retold the tale of warring Ironborns and Lord Celtigar seemed indifferent to it.

"Most interesting tale, my lord," he probably lied.

"You don't need to tell every soul of it," Aenyx murmured and suddenly felt Lord Celtigar's gaze fall on him.

"Enjoying the feast, my prince?" his icy eyes showed no sincere emotion.

"It does resemble a feast just fine," Aenyx answered as he played with his food.

"It seems the food doesn't appeal to you."

"Yes, to be honest."

Lord Celtigar's eyes narrowed as he leaned more into his chair, "One would blame the Crackclaws for that."

"Crackclaws? As if the inhabitance of Crackclaw point?" Aenyx asked.

He shook his head, "Not the savages of that peninsula, but the Crackclaws of Claw Isle. Behind the northern hills of the island, there dwells a tribe of Crackclaws, who from time immemorial had insurgence against my family's rightful ownership over this isle and the peninsula. They sabotage our fields, kill our people, and make their living out of thieving."

"They don't sound like good neighbours," Aenyx commented.

"No, they do not," Lord Celtigar raised his right hand to his face, and Aenyx saw he was wearing leather gloves. He pulled the glove out, and Aenyx, in horror, saw that his hand had only two fingers. Now the focus of the table was on Lord Celtigar and his words, "My family had paid so many tragic prices for them to stay away from our town, the newest one being my fingers, got cut by one's axe when I was but a youngling."

Aenyx was staring at the empty places of those fingers. "Did you complain to my father about this!?"

"King Aegon wasn't the most competent king, my prince," said Lord Celtigar, "But, even if he had listened to my complaints, he wouldn't do anything. However, I'm sure you would, don't you?"

He frowned at that, "What do you mean?"

"Cracklaws only answer to royal blood," he explained, "For peace and for saving lives, I plead you, my prince, order them to bend the knee to me and end this endless clash for good."

"My lord," Ser Selvy called, "We do not have the time to mend the relations betwixt you and the Cracklaws. We need to get to King's Landing."

Lord Celtigar turned to him, "You asked for a ship, ser. Well, give me the tribe's fealty, and I shall give you a ship."

"Are you bargaining with us, my lord?"

"Perhaps I am."

Suddenly, the long doors of the tower opened, and a group of people came forth. Three men had in their hands, each a woman. The women looked miserable and close to tears while men laughed and jested. The most distinguished one wore a black cloak over a shirt, red from blood. His hair was black, and his eyes a darker shade of blue than Lord Celtigar. Aenyx could tell that this was his son.

He parted with his companions as he walked forward to the table, "Greetings, father," he greeted Lord Celtigar and put down the woman. A servant rushed to her and guided her to somewhere, probably the son's chambers. "I see your guests are enjoying themselves."

Lord Celtigar raised from his seat, "Prince Aenyx, I introduce to you my son, Aradrin Celtigar," he said in an unimpressed manner and turned to Aradrin, "I gather it went well."

"Better than well, father," Aradrin took a seat and a goblet of wine, "We destroyed the resources sent from Cracklaws and burnt the tribe. They would be lucky if any of their huts survived the fire."

"Good, good," Lord Celtigar turned to Ser Selvy, "Not a long and tiresome process anymore, ser. Just deliver the prince to the tribe—or rather, what's left of it—and he could order the tribesmen to pledge their fealty to my family."

"You burnt down the tribe, my lord. What could you possibly gain from the fealty?" Valter asked.

"A victory, my lord," he coldly answered, "The master of whisperers for the king needs an ominous reputation, after all."

Ser Selvy and Valter's eyes widened, whereas Aenyx looked confused. "His grace had appointed you as the master of whisperers?" Ser Selvy asked.

"Yes, and sent a ship to deliver me. The same ship that I would allow you onto it if you grant me this wish."

"You have no right to order us, my lord," Valter protested.

Lord Celtigar's face went still, "I certainly have more rights at a councillor of the king than the bastard of the previous one," he spoke cooly, shivering Aenyx with fear.

"I will do it, my lord!" Aenyx exclaimed, "I will do as you say, but you should keep your word and deliver me to King's Landing." He realised he wanted to get out of this isle, even if it meant going to his certain death in King's Landing.

"How great," a ghost of a smile appeared on Lord Celtigar's lips. "We shall rejoice for this victory of negotiating." he raised his goblet, and so did Aradrin. "To a ruined Cracklaw."

"Huzzah!" they both drank their wine.

Aenyx was astonished by whatever happened in a few minutes. He slowly made his way into his room and quickly went asleep.

 

[Tenart]

In a quiet district of the grim isle, behind the palisade, where none but crabs walk, Aenyx stood and stared. Amidst the barren field, a tall tree was grown, where he leaned. he beheld the infamous spears of the merling king, the spears that confined him into this barren isle. He chose safety over the storm for which now he was bound to Lord of Claw Isle to deliver him to King's Landing. 'A favour' He called it, for Aenyx was a coercing. not that he cared for the tribe; for He was more concerned about the confidence Lord Celtigar would gain if Aenyx provided his wish; would He become a tool in the lord's game? he for sure seemed full of plans for future.

Aenyx thought many times to find a way to deceive the master of the whispers into a situation where to find repose he would free Aenyx of his dire plan to enslave the tribe forever to his house. However, every thought of his was crushed when he reminded himself that the man was the spymaster of the king. An apt title for him.

I still could curse him, 'the curse of God upon you, you porker'. the thought got him a chuckle. He realised that it's good to laugh, sometimes.

"Here you are, my prince." a familiar voice called him. Aenyx turned to the source and saw the most unfavourable person in the list of ones he knew. Aradrin Celtigar, heir to Claw Isle, drunk as a soaked cat. Aenyx hated him. a rapist, a reaver and a son of a supposed vampire. "Hello there," he answered his call.

"'Tis a good day to break the will of life, eh?" he asked. It seemed like the Celtigars truly hated the men of the tribe from the bottom of their hearts. For what reason though? taxes?

"I'm sure their will of life broke when you brought their women with yourself."

Aradrin laughed. "True on that, my prince. I should not mention these to you but the girl I had was quiet like a rabbit waiting for the hound to hunt her. I had to slap her to be sure she wasn't dead."
"I cannot fathom how much joy you got from that slaps," Aenyx said disgustedly.

"Joy is underselling, my prince. I went to the seven heavens and touched the maiden herself," he again talked. Aenyx just could not listen to him. of things he said.

"Sure."

Silence fell between the two. Aenyx thought of pushing Aradrin to fall to his death. he could not do that, unfortunately, but, the thought of him falling into one of those spears brought him a smile.

"After the Claw Isle, we are heading to King's Landing immediately," he stated.
Aenyx frowned at 'We'. "If you consider Lord Celtigar, my companions and I as a 'We', you're right there."

"You were not aware, were you, my prince? I am going to King's Landing too," he said with a smirk.

Aenyx cursed quietly. "I thought as an heir, you would rather in your birthplace and rule."
Aradrin huffed. "Heh, I'd sooner be a beggar down the Flea Bottom than the lord of Claw Isle."

Aenyx was puzzled by his remark. "Alright. why's that?" he asked.

He hesitated for a moment, then looked back to the tower. "Father knows what I am as well as what I will be as a lord. he doesn't want me as his heir, he wants me as a bogeyman, for the small folk to besmirch, for lords to loath. he wants me to be Harren the Black come again for his 'heir' to be the Dragonknight." he laughed bitterly and saddened. Aenyx was melting in joy, however.

"How obscure of him, to ostensibly praise you and show proud, only to replace you in the right moment with the right person," Aenyx said pretendedly sad. "But, are you sure this is his plan?"

"I know so, my prince. I can see it in his eyes, he doesn't want me."

"But he has to, unless he wants his house extinct." Aenyx has seen Cedryc's wife, Myra. she was way past the years of childbearing. to omit Aradrin from succession, he either has to kill his wife and remarry or disinherit his son and adopt a familyless boy.

"He has plans for that too."

Good. tell me all. "Oh? and what that could be?"

Aradrin's eyes were uncertain. "I don't know if I can trust you, my prince," he said softly.

Aenyx went closer to Aradrin and whispered in his ear: "You can't. but if you don't tell me, you will live in a dilemma of trust. you believe your father to be scheming against you, to detect that you need the help of men that have the same motivation as you." then he picked up a rock and handed it to Aradrin. "The rock in your hand is the future your father has in mind. how far will you throw it with only your strength?" then he put his hand on Aradrin's hand ", And how far will it drown in nothingness with two hands?" Aenyx left him hanging on his thoughts as he ended his master monologue of manipulating. though he wasn't sure if he had to declare his despise of Cedryc to his son so clearly.

Aradrin went deep into his thoughts for a long time. he supposedly was thinking through Aenyx's words. "Your words, my prince," he said as he looked at Aenyx. "Are of a man full grown. your wisdom is the crone blessing... or a curse at that. you're right on the dilemma. I have one right now: to confide in your inhuman mind or to fear your demonic thoughts."

Aenyx was baffled by the drunk's words. Just spite it already. he was irritated by Aradrin's resistance. however, he knows that he's close to breaking his will to talk. I need to approach him in another way. he thought. "your concern is fair. there's no need to be beguiled by my words. consider this: I get drunk with you, therefore, I lost my ability to build an immersion in which you would be forced to tell me the secrets you don't want to tell. in the end, you have told someone of your concerns and did not put your family's secrets in the wrong hands." Aenyx said with an innocent smile. He, of course, was not going to get drunk, but to made Aradrin more than he already is.

He smiled broadly. "That is a bright idea, my prince. we shall go to the harbour's tavern, right now." with that, he lifted Aenyx and put him on his shoulders, then headed towards the tavern. Aenyx, though unease up in Aradrin's shoulders, grinned at how his plan worked.

A few minutes later, they were in the inn. Aradrin was drinking ale while Aenyx, unnoticed by the lord's son, ordered water. "To your ever-lasting health my friend," he said as he drank his water.

Aradrin chuckled. "Friends over ale. the best of friendship."

"Indeed." Aenyx agreed. He turned around to find a bard. when he found one, he gestured towards him. "Sing a song for your lord's son bard And you might get a lif-long fortune." at that bard bowed, tuned his lute and sang:

The Dornishman's wife was as fair as the sun,
and her kisses were warmer than spring.
But the Dornishman's blade was made of black steel,
and its kiss was a terrible thing...

At the lyrics, Aradrin constantly laughed while Aenyx faked one. the two spent an hour singing and laughing. after that, it was time to question Aradrin. "Feelin' good friend?" Aenyx asked him.

Aradrin struggling to find words looked at him and laughed: "Never... been better."

"I'm glad. because you can't bring up uneasy questions when you're not well."

He dipped his ale. "Right... right you are." he closed his eyes and frowned. "What was it that we wanted to talk?"

"Oh, nothing of the high matter, just the fact that what is your father's plan on omitting you from the line of succession," Aenyx said like it was an ordinary matter.

"Yes, yes, I remember." he took a sip from his ale. "I have heard-not seen, just heard- that my father has been corresponding with... with a red priest of Essos."

"Alright. And...?" said Aenyx confused.

"He wants to work on dark magic," said Aradrin horrified.

Aenyx was disappointed. he sighed at his words. Well, at least I didn't spend any money. he stood and headed to exit when Aradrin suddenly asked: "Where you're going, friend?"

"You forgot already? I have a tribe to deal with." Aenyx said as he exited the inn

---

There were fifty warriors of house Celtigar coming with them. sent by Lord Cedryc to ensure the sense of frightfulness in the tribesmen. their captain, Flavian Waters was master-at-arms of Celtigar castle, he was riding next to Ser Selvy. The two were conversing on the strategy if the situation gets dire.

Valter Mooton was next to Aenyx. He was viewing nature. Aenyx on the other hand was thinking on his words to the tribesmen. he would start the conversation by reminding them of their history. a classic move to make the target feel smart of themselves. next, he should build an image of a hierarchy in which he was at the top and clansmen were lower.

A horseman rode to them. "My prince, Lord Mooton, someone's coming in our way," he said.

Aenyx looked back to see who that is. he was a rider riding with utmost speed. His hair and his cape both were black. Ser Selvy put his hands on his sword if a fight was to come. As the rider came closer, Aenyx realised he was none other than Aradrin Celtigar, drunk as hell.

"Lord Celtigar, we did not expect you to join us," said Valter smiling.

"I'm... sorry my prince, my lord. I... I felt I was needed to be here with... you." Aradrin hardly answered.

"You are welcomed to join our cause, my lord," said Valter.

Aradrin nodded and went to ride next to Flavian Waters. Valter turned to Aenyx and said: "My prince, can we talk, privately?"

Aenyx hesitated for a moment then nodded. he turned to the group. "Men. We stay here for refreshing," he said as he followed Valter who was heading towards the lower parts of the side-road. Valter got off of his horse and helped Aenyx dismount. at the silence, Aenyx looked around and saw nothing but trees. "Is this one of those murder things when you do a murder?" Aenyx asked Valter with concern.

"No," Valter quickly answered.

"I mean, I'm looking around, I feel, you for sure gonna do a murder on me."

"I'm not going to murder you, my prince, at least not today," Valter admitted.

Aenyx wasn't shocked by his word. remembering that Valter doe not believe in death. "Alright. so why are we here?"

"We have Aradrin Celtigar in our party," Valter said excitedly.

"You just told me useless information I already knew."

"I beg to differ, my prince, we have Lord Aradrin and we are heading to the tribe he reaved. we could grant the tribesmen, their reaver." Valter's eyes were wide And his grin was great.

"What will we get from handing him over? I need a ship to go to King's Landing. They don't have one." Aenyx's voice was hoarse from Valter's proposal.

"But from your demeanour and your words, I can see that you do not desire to go there," said Valter confusedly.

Aenyx blinked. Mooton was right on that. Aenyx did not want to go to the place where his half-brother was in the most power. but he doesn't desire a stay right under the nose of Cedryc Celtigar either. "There are many ways to be away from King's Landing, Valter. I will think about that matter later. for now, let's get back."

Valter nodded as the two mounted their horses and got back. with them, the wrigglers and the carts went on. The road was straight and empty of sound. A concerning grade of silence when the road is open to the wilderness. No chirp, no whir, no buzz, nothing. Either there are some hidden men on these trees, or this isle is devoid of insects.

Fortunately for him, it was the latter. Aenyx asked some of the guardsmen And they confirmed that the isle is as barren in the case of animals as it is for farming. that got him more questions than answers: how would they provide food, how would they provide cloth? What could they trade? What is this damned island?

Of course, every one of those questions somehow made its way to Lord Celtigar, previously only known by the coldness in Aenyx's mind now was more of a puzzle for him. His son, Aradrin, who was now sleeping in a cart, reported rumours about him working on dark magic. that is unlikely. What if he's a mad scientist? that would make sense. Mayhaps he envenomed the land of the isle and as a result, all of the animals and plants left? At this point, I just want something to believe.

They made their way to the lower parts of the hill and faced a settlement from afar. It was the tribe or what that has remained of it. Aenyx smelt the sense of burnt wood and saw the death. The corpses, not yet buried. Aradrin did a genocide here. Good thing he made sure to break them completely. At least, my work would be over quickly.

As they entered from the ruined gate, Aenyx felt the gloomy atmosphere. He saw the despair and the hunger of these people. One of them, strong enough to walk, made his way to him. Aenyx saw him and asked: "Hello there good man, what's your name if you don't mind me asking?"

The man was astonished by his hair as he constantly stared at them. "'Twas the time a Targaryen give the honour and come to us. If only you'd come sooner..." he said as he bowed, others followed him. They are loyal then.

"Your name good man?" he asked again kindly.

"Jeor Jarmonant," he answered.

Aenyx nodded "That almost sounds like a real name, sure." then he looked around at the settlement "The times were not kind to you I take."

His face saddened. "No my..?" "Prince," answered Ser Selvy. "My Prince. we have not been living the best of our lives." he was building a rage. "Is it fair for the lords you have put your trust, to come and plunder our home? is it per law for a Lord to attack the property of the king? My ancestors bent the knee to Queen Visenya. for that, she gifted us the honour of having fealty to only the crown. She gifted us the freedom we held for centuries. Then Celtigars came here, demanded that freedom, threatened us, killed us, and for what? What could they gain of us?" his raging was leading to yells.

Aenyx, with the help, dismounted from the horse. "Please My good friend calm down. there is no need for that. Why don't you invite us to a tent of yours and we could discuss this further. I'll promise you, I will do my best to benefit you.

"Of course, my prince please this way." he led the way. Aenyx gestured to Ser Selvy and Mooton to follow him. The three followed Jeor into a grand brown tent made of fur. The first sight Aenyx saw was a man, older than Jeor, sitting abed, reading. His stern face at the sight of Aenyx went soft. "Elder Yoryn, This is Prince Aenyx Targaryen."

"Bring bread and salt," Yoryn said. His voice was deep and commanding. Jeor quickly went to a desk in the corner of the tent and returned with bread and salt. He offered them to Aenyx. When he hesitated at first, Yoryn said: "Please, My prince, accept the guest right. we would never harm you but it's only fair for you to be assured." Aenyx ate bread and salt.

"Elder Yoryn, I'm truly sorry for what happened to your home," said Aenyx.

"'Twas not your fault, my prince," he said as he turned to Jeor. "Bring the table and the chairs, Jeor." Jeor nodded and went on with his order. "We've hadn't been graced by the royal presence for a long time, my prince. it's a surprise to see you here."

What a cruel joke: You have royalty to my silver hair, and I want you to give that away. "I admit, if not per accident and chance, my companions and I wouldn't land in Claw Isle," Aenyx admitted.

"Crab Isle, my prince." Yoryn corrected. Jeor and four tribesmen brought chairs and a table, by then. Yoryn and Aenyx sat in front of each other. Valter, next to Aenyx and Ser Selvy stood guarded. Jeor then brought wine and cups.

"I wasn't aware you have another name for this place," said Aenyx.

"The isle is filled with crab and crab only, my prince. 'Crab Isle' has meaning while 'Claw Isle' gives an incorrect image for the isle." he explained.

"An interesting interpretation," Aenyx said as he poured wine for Yoryn and offered him the cup. Yoryn politely accepted. "I learnt from Lord Cedryc Celtigar that the relations between your tribe and house Celtigar have been hostile at best. why's that?" Aenyx asked.

"Celtigars are proud people, my prince," said Yoryn as he took a sip. "Too proud for their good." his voice was bitter and filled with suppressed rage. "They falsely claim over Crab Isle and Cracklaw point, bah!. Through generations, they, filled with ambition, attacked us and we answered firmly. Then there came Cedryc Celtigar and his hound of a son." he hissed the last part.

"Are they worse than their precessors?"

Yoryn huffed. "More than worse, my prince. That monster Aradrin is an ordinary thing but the father..." he shook his head. "I know not what he has done, but since his lordship, the Isle has become silent. Lifeless, I could even say. I remember the times of his lord father, Aran Celtigar. Back then, Crab Isle was different. When Cedryc became lord, the isle became gloomy and dark."

Aenyx was frowning. "Are you blaming the decline of Crab Isle on Cedryc Celtigar?" he said.

"They say he was born in the darkest district of Asshai, with a witch as a wetnurse." his face dimmed as he said those words. he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. "I know not how much is true, but hear me out, your grace. that man, whoever birthed him, burned our weirwood. He is not something natural." he clenched his hands in anger.

"I..." Aenyx couldn't find the right word to describe the things Yoryn said. Two men now were claiming Cedryc Celtigar of association with sorcery. But it's not strong evidence, just drunk talk and rumours. He did consider the possibility of him being a mad scientist. Maybe he should begin to think more about this man. After all, They're to be neighbours in King's Landing.

As Aenyx was thinking through, sounds of shouts and yells came from outside. a Celtigar soldier came with haste to the tent. "My prince, Lord Aradrin is coming this way," he warned. After him, came the young Celtigar himself. His face was frowning And his hands clenched. Yoryn pursed his lips at the sight of him And Jeor leid his hands on his sword. Ser Selvy did that in following And Valter was watching everything in excitement. "My prince, the men are unease. tension is growing. what are your orders?" he asked.

Aenyx breathed heavily for a second. he couldn't allow the soldiers to go crazy, he also couldn't leave Aradrin and Yoryn without knowing that they would kill each other. "Ser Selvy, do not let any fight occur. I will go outside and speech for the men." Selvy nodded in agreement.

Aenyx went out of the tent and found his men ready to use their swords. "Men!" all eyes turned to him. "There is no need to be stressed. Nothing horrible is going to happen. probably." he muttered the last part. "The situation is under control. for the most part." again he muttered. "I strongly believe the adding of Aradrin Celtigar to negotiations is nothing to worry. maybe." as he was to speak again, sounds of glass breaking and a cry of pain came from the tent. Then Ser Selvy from the tent rushed to him. on his face was blood. "My prince, Lord Aradrin and Cheifman Yoryn..." he paused for a moment. "they are dead!"

At that, the Celtigar soldiers went wild. Their swords clashed the tribesmen one's. roars of pain and cries of fear filled the air as steel cut through the flesh. Aenyx, frozen in his spot, saw the blood of men spilling. Soon the soldiers, after defeating the short fight, went towards the tents for women and children. Aenyx couldn't witness the scene. He made his way to the tent to wait for the massacre to end.

In the tent, he saw the corpses of Yoryn, glass from the bottle of wine in his eyes, Aradrin, with Jeor's sword in his chest and Jeor himself with a wound in his neck (probably by Ser Selvy's sword), all dead. He sighed at the sight, turned to Valter in concern, only to find him drinking his wine. At least one heir is still alive.

---

What a little adventure I had today. Aenyx thought as he saw the tower from afar. The Celtigar soldier's fun lasted for ten minutes before their torches set the settlement on fire. Destroyed a tribe and led the heir of a barren isle into his death. If I keep going like this, I might fight in a war someday. Aenyx glanced to the cart that carried Aradrin's body. The poor man died as a drunk. Maybe it's not that bad, you'd die without any worries, leaving a mess like this for someone like me to clean up.

Aenyx and his companions were heading to the harbour. Where Cedryc awaits them. Even if he did not have a sense of affection towards his now-dead son, it's only fair to deliver his body to him per what Ser Selvy calls courtesy. If it means to get out of this island sooner, then sure, why not. The harbour was busy. A galley from King's Landing was waiting for Lord Celtigar. They saw him near the port with his belongings. He was discussing with the captain.

"Lord Celtigar." cried Valter. He turned his head and saw them and with that, the cart. He walked to them while his eyes never left the cart. "Prince Aenyx and Lord Mooton. I'm glad you returned from your journey. The cart?" he said coldly.

Aenyx took a step forward. Breathed deep and said: "I'm sorry Lord Celtigar, your son..." he struggled to find the right words. "He clashed with the tribesmen and they cowardly killed him." he tried to sell him another story because he figured out that no father would want to hear that their son died in a drunk fight.

"Don't lie to me, prince. It's an insult to my intelligence." he seemed offended by Aenyx's story.

Aenyx sighed. "In that case, I tell you the truth. Your son was highly drunk. He interrupted our negotiation only to kill the tribe's chief with a broken bottle of wine, breaking the guest right if I understand correctly. Then, as a result, a tribesman killed him."

Lord Celtigar walked to the corpse. He touched his son's cheeks gently. "He was hot-headed and impulsive. I knew one of these days he would do something rash and get himself killed." he turned to Aenyx. "I thank you for bringing him here. His corpse shall be sent to silent sister to be cleaned. But on more important matters, our ship is ready we shall set off immediately."

"If you want to be here for the funeral..."

"No," he answered as he headed to the ship. with nothing else to do, Aenyx and his party followed him. Aenyx hoped that he would never return to this damned isle.

 

[Tenart]

Aenyx heard the echoed sound of falling water as he opened his eyes. Regaining his consciousness, he realised he was lying in a void of space. There was only an astral atmosphere with starry beings flying all around, almost like a grand planetarium, a real one at that. He walked through and felt the ground even though there were none. Bemused, he tried to reach his hands for the stars, only to fail. He realised there were farther than his mind could discern. He turned around and saw the stars reproduce over where his eyes headed. He touched his cheeks to see if he could still feel. He was not dead, he concluded.

"Greetings, benighted ape." said a voice, annoyed and bored. Aenyx turned to the source. A large silver-coloured rectangle, flat and plain, floating in the air.

"I do not reckon using drugs," said Aenyx in a high-pitched voice. Shocked, he put his hand on his larynx.

"You must be in my place to realise how annoying that voice of yours sounds." said the rectangle.

"Wh-wh-what's going on?" said Aenyx, stammered and high pitched. He pursed his lips. He was very irritated that his voice was like breaking of thousand glasses simultaneously.

"You're in a state of Astral projection. When you, on purpose, manipulate your sense of reality into releasing your mind into vivid imagination. Meaning you are living an out-of-body experience, sans intentional." He chuckled at the last part. It all seemed very amusing and boring to him at the same time.

"I mean, sure, why not. I don't know what's real or what's not since I don't have a sense of sanity anymore." Aenyx admitted. Still not comfortable with his voice.

"You sure don't." the rectangle agreed.

"So..." Aenyx studied the rectangle. "What's going on with you?"

"I'm here to bestow upon you the meaning of life," he said mockingly. That got Aenyx a stern face, not entertained by his jest. "You're exhausting to deal with, by the way. The worst person imaginable. To think my people chose you, ugh!" the rectangle insulted.

"I suddenly don't want to be in this void anymore," said Aenyx as he went to find a way out. He saw two doors not far from him, one white and one black. He wondered why there were two doors but not a wall.

"Oh! a dilemma. Let's see..." the rectangle thought for a second. "Left. You will choose the white door because it resembles a familiar feeling."

Aenyx calmed his anger and smiled at the rectangle. "You would know that wouldn't you?" the rectangle flashed. Aenyx took that as a yes. "which means you purposefully coloured the door white." he walked to the door. "But you put the door on the left side of where we're standing or floating in your case. 'Left' has an implication. It's the opposite of right, which is considered the path to holiness. Hell, we have words for that, Righteousness, The right side, the right man. All these words imply that the subject in question is just. Which leads me to the second door." he walked to the black door. "You purposefully cloured this door black because you know black is a reminder of grief and grim. But you put it in the right to imply that the white door is nought but a trick. To lead me into thinking that the black one is the exit. But neither one are." he spoke faster. "Because there is no exit that you wouldn't cover because you purposefully put these doors here because you knew I wouldn't fall into your tricks because I'm not a buffoon, you senseless rectangle," he yelled the last part.

The rectangle flashed as he laughed. "They were right. you are an idiot maniac without any sense of morality whatsoever."

"I beg your pardon?" Aenyx asked confusedly.

"Alright, you oaf, brace yourself. We have some work to do." as he said that, the doors disappeared. "Firstly, you're not good enough, did you know that?"

"On what scope?" Aenyx asked frustratedly.

"Everybody has their wits together, expect YOU." the rectangle emphasised on 'you'.

"What does everybody means in this sentence?" Aenyx asked again.

"Now I have some advice for you, which you will listen to and will do so," he ordered. "First and foremost, keep an eye on your brother, the silver hair one," he said threateningly.

"I AM planning to keep an eye on the incest abomination," Aenyx assured him.

"You're incest too."

"My ANCESTOR was incest. There's at least three-generation difference."

"Fine. nex.." He was interrupted by an explosion next to him in which a golden rectangle appeared. "Did you get the horn?" asked the golden one.

"I-I-I don't..." Aenyx stammered.

"What are you talking about?" asked the silver.

"The horn I tasked you to get. did you acquire it?" said the golden frowning

"What horn..."

"The girl grows more powerful day by day. she has found a father figure in the old man and is about to discover the power of friendship with the slave girl and the creep who's very much in love with her." the golden stated.

"I think you're in the wrong place." said the silver.

"If she gets–wait what?" the golden turned to the silver. "Who's this dream for?" he asked.

"Hello there. The name's Aenyx," said Aenyx as he waved his hand.

"Aenyx, eh?" said the golden. "Do you, by any chance, know a Daenerys Targaryen?" he asked.

"My list of people is rather short." Aenyx thought for a moment. "Daenerys Targaryen doesn't ring a bell."

"Oh. That's awkward." He turned to the silver. "Is he performing well?" he asked.

"Nah, he's an idiot."

"Huh. Idiot humans. They're all over the place." he laughed. "Well, goodby then," he said as he disappeared.

Silence fell between the two till the rectangle spoke: "I'm a manifestation of the thing that brought you here, by the way."

"I figured that out," Aenyx admitted. Suddenly, a loud noise filled his ears as his vision went black.

---

Aenyx opened his eyes in horror and sat abed. He wondered about his dream or out-of-body experience. It was the kind of thing you only get if you drank the right amount of alcohol. Two talking rectangles. And I thought I hadn't lost all of my sanity. He thought through the silver's advice. Could his brother be a ruthless kinslayer? He tried to picture his brother, but no image formed in his mind. He does not know this Dearon (they call him that), beyond the fact that he's the king and is born of incest. He doesn't know any of his half-siblings at all. They couldn't possibly occur as a problem, right? They're all children, the little people. I don't have a sibling duty to them, technically speaking. He wondered about the man that begot him, this Aegon, notorious for siring children. He probably was a lustful miser, mayhaps a handsome one? Mertha, Aenyx's mother, was incredibly naive, but Aegon couldn't just seduce all of his mistresses out of their naivety; he should have had something to offer in return.

The silver rectangle called Aenyx a 'manipulative maniac'. Was that a compliment? In these few days that Aenyx was living in this supposed new world, he enjoyed leading Aradrin Celtigar and Valter Mooton into his grasp. It came costly for him, however. In Valter's case, their ship crashed with those damned spears leading Aenyx to the nightmare that was Claw Isle. In Aradrin's case, well, he somehow led him to his death. If Aenyx didn't insist on getting information on Cedryc Celtigar, he would never get Aradrin drunk. Now, he was dead. Unfortunately, his information on the grim lord was useless to Aenyx, unless Cedryc Celtigar is indeed a sorcerer. Frankly, Aenyx would've rathered if Aradrin would make it alive, but it was not to be. Now he doesn't know if Cedryc has a grudge over him or not; he didn't cry when he learnt the passing of his son. He should at least get worried; his succession is now up to chaos. Aenyx now has more questions about Cedryc than answers.

Then there's Ser Donatyon Selvy and Valter Mooton, his two royal companions. Aenyx couldn't help but feel pity for Ser Selvy; the man was serious but sincere. And he was stuck with Aenyx. Valter on the other hand is for sure a high-functional sociopath; he wasn't shocked when three men killed themselves in front of him. And for god's sake, he throws Viking-Gladiator competitions. Aenyx couldn't help but wonder why he is intending to stay in King's Landing? His mission was to deliver Aenyx and then return but suddenly, he wants to stay.

In the end, Aenyx decided it was high time to accept that he's living another life and try to have a purpose or a goal to pursue. He couldn't just stick around and let these facts eat his sanity; he shall win. To feel a victory and to achieve that, he has to learn the rules of this world. He has learnt that people here are still in a medieval period. He could get used to that. But to survive, he should find some allies. Valter is unpredictable, not good to rely upon, but he does bring ships of Maidenpool. Ser Selvy is royal. Cedryc is on the blacklist; that man is not to be trusted. He's yet to meet The king, but if the situation turned unfavoured to Aenyx, he could always run away from anything, probably.

Aenyx has so many thoughts to think about, but the time for that will come. For now, he should get aboard and get information about the king. Thus, he changed and went to find Ser Selvy. He was in the deck, sharping his sword. "Ser Selvy." cried Aenyx.

"My prince." said the knight as he bowed.

Aenyx looked at the sword. "What are you doing ser?" he asked.

"Sharping my sword, your grace. A knight must have his sword keen," he answered.

"Don't you have a squire to do that for you?" Aenyx knew, at least in his world, it was common for knights to have squires. He thought about 'Don Quixote'; it was the only book about knights he ever read. It is a story from a very old time so it counts.

"I have one, my prince. But I left him with the party back in Darrynborough. Don't you remember? We ran in a different direction." he said warmly. Aenyx could see that the knight wasn't frustrated with him. Thank god for that.

"Why you keep calling me prince, Ser Selvy?" asked Aenyx. He was leading the conversation to Daeron and his personality.

"Why, because you are of loyal blood, your grace," he answered.

"But I am a bastard," stated Aenyx. he wanted to know if the legitimisation bothered Dearon.

"King Aegon legitimised you as his son, even if the dowager queen did not birth." his voice saddened when he spoke of the dowager queen. The knight and the princess, in this case, queen. How classic. Aenyx assumed.

"What is the opinion of King Daeron on this matter?" asked Aenyx.

"You'd better ask Lord Celtigar; he was his vassal when the king was the crown prince. I can not say anything about him for I have never talked to him, my prince. He is said to be kind and eloquent. He favours books over swords, for that; he has a genius mind if the words of the servants are to be believed." said Ser Selvy. Aenyx thought about his words but not on the parts about Daeron, but the ones when he mentioned the servants of, presumably, King's Landing. Did Ser Selvy live in King's Landing? Now that I think about it, I do not know anything about my sworn knight.

"Can I be assured that the king wouldn't have me killed?" asked Aenyx.

Donatyon chuckled. "There's no sin higher than kinslaying, my prince. Even if your brother came to hate you, he would not dare grant you death."

"But it has happened before, has it not?" Aenyx knew sin or not; people are mighty of homicide. Perhaps they would doubt themselves when it comes to parricide, but even then, the flames of hate, or dreams of power, would lead their doubt to die. Where does your 'kinship' with someone come when the blood in your eyes has your mind blind?

Ser Selvy, his face a painting of uneasiness, sighed. "It has, my prince. In your family, no less. Aemond Targaryen, the cousin to your grandfather, the late King Viserys, murdered his nephew, his great aunt and supposedly his uncle."

"Supposedly?"

"In the duel between Aemond and Daemon Targaryen, the latter leapt from his dragon and killed the former, but they both fell into the God's eye river."

"Did you just say dragons?"

"After that, Daemon Targaryen was presumed dead; none knows how. Some say he drowned in the river; some say Aemond's dragon, the great Vhagar fell and crushed him, for that, it is a byword among small folk that: 'the last kill of Aemond Targaryen, was his killer'." said Ser Selvy, he seemed proud of himself for knowing all that. Aenyx's eyes were widened in shock and horror. There were so many details he couldn't understand, namely, dragons. If dragons were a thing in this world, so is magic. I mean, my presence here is a sign of magic; why am I so shocked?

"I thank you, Ser Selvy. now if you excuse me, I shall speak with Celtigar." said Aenyx as he made his way to Captain's solar, where Cedryc spends most of his time.

"Lord, my prince," yelled Ser Selvy.

"Yes, that." agreed Aenyx.

---

The captain's solar of this ship was larger than The Comet's. There were more shelves and desks, a little library filled with scrolls and a parrot in his cage, cursing constantly. To Aenyx's surprise, the captain didn't spend any time here; because he wasn't the captain; he was the wheelman of the ship. This galley was owned by Cedryc Celtigar who is its captain. The grim lord now was writing something; He was wearing a silver greatcoat. Aenyx was sitting and watching Cedryc; in silence. "Is it something you're concerned with, prince?" he asked. He dropped the 'My' after the meeting in the harbour. Aenyx wasn't sure if he was insulting him or not, but every time he heard 'prince' from the grim lord, he would get chills.

"I was wondering, how long till we reach King's Landing?" Aenyx asked. He wanted to know how much time he has to gather himself a monologue which Daeron would enjoy.

"Not more so than two hours," Cedryc answered. He never left his eyes from the parchment he was writing.

As silence filled the room again, Aenyx prepared his second question. "Ser Donatyon Selvy said you were vassal to King Daeron,"

He slowly raised his gaze to Aenyx. His icy eyes burnt with despair and yet were cool. "Indeed. From Driftmark to Claw Isle, the three remaining Valyrian houses unite under the banner of the Prince of Dragonstone until his time comes to sit after his father, or by a tragic event, die."

"Bold of you to assume an heir would die before he reaches his hands to his birthright."

"Many heirs went to their demise before their fathers could." There was no bitterness in his words. Aenyx wondered if he even cared about the death of his son.

Trying to change the subject, he said: "Have you ever met King Daeron in person?"

"No harm will come upon you." Cedryc saw through Aenyx's question.

"I'm not worried about that; I only desire to know my dear kin, to know if I should subvert my expectations."

"If that's so, I shall tell you of his tour to Claw Isle. It was in the past year when King Daeron alone came. We talked about the problem of the tribe, which you resolved greatly. He was kind and gentle, well-spoken and dignified. He will not lay a hand on you even if you came out a threat to the realm."

"That is your duty to do, isn't it?" Aenyx said with a smirk.

"Indeed it is," Cedryc said solemnly. Aenyx could feel the threat in his voice. He politely thanked Celtigar and went to his room to prepare himself for his dear brother.

---

The tall tree stood proud for a thousand years here in the heart of Kingswood. He has seen the separation from Rainwood when in the Dawn of Days. he has seen the rise and fall of the Storm Kings whose armies marched through his home many times uncountable. He and his brothers covered the area from Felwood to Blackwater Bay dutifully and with that, purposefully. For purpose is what restrains a man from falling despair. Thought King Daeron, the second of him name, as he leaned on the proud tree. I must say, 'king' feels stronger than 'crown prince'. He has read the history of the land his people call Westeros, but it's much different to see the place in which history was made in person. Deepen in this woods, roars and cries Jeyne Poore, a girl who stood against the cruel king, Maegor. Horys Hill and the men who followed him to free her; their blood fresh these trees, helped them grow. Jeyne burnt And Horys died, while Maegor's madness flamed his soul. He was not a king; he was a monster. But again, weren't all members of his house at some point? How many songs were sung while the dragons danced? And how many of them were not tragedies? Infanticide, kinslaying, burning, Fire and Blood. Daeron never liked to be a dragon; they were to catastrophe. But Daeron did not come here to think those thoughts so he glanced to his left to see the slough of King Barron, where King Barron of house Durrandon, drowned trying to hunt a boar. And father said only hunt and lust were his life joy.

Father. The word sounded unfit to address 'him', King Aegon IV, the man who saw his firstborn a shame. Daeron could never understand why so. He saw his father shamelessly lay with women other than his dear mother. His sweet and delicate mother, crying when little Daenerys came to this world, alive and sleeping peacefully when she went to meet the divine. Did father truly feel nothing for her? How could he? Why wasn't she enough for him? Why wasn't I enough for him? Daeron tried everything he could do to gain a smirk from his father. He learnt the bow and won tournaments. But Aegon said he was terrible at hunting. Why wasn't it enough for you to see me try? Daeron shook his head, his father again intoxicated his thoughts.

Daeron was now happy. He has four sons for which he is grateful; He has loyal people around him and finally, he has his siblings whom he loves. From Daemon and his willfulness, Aegor and his quick temper, Daenerys, if not a princess, definitely a bard, Myra and Gwenys, both sweet girls, Brynden and his sharp mind, Shiera, in the path to becoming a beauty and the mystery that is Aenyx. When he read that Aenyx, with his sworn knight and the heir to Maidenpool, were in Claw Isle, resolving the time immemorial rivalry between Celtigars and Cracklaws, he was surprised. He wondered if it went well, if so, Daeron could appoint Aenyx as his master of law someday, to give his judgment more purpose.

For all free men have their purposes and King Daeron's is; something he shall figure out. Maybe he could turn the dreams of his namesake and Baelor real, add Dorn into his realm and make the Targaryens, the true kings of Seven Kingdoms. But how could he achieve that? Martells proved unbreakable against the dragon of Rhaenys and the army of Daeron I. It's clear to Daeron that, if he's to fight them, his sword should be his words and his shield his pen. He could use his marriage to make Prince Morion bend the knee if that proved futile; he has many options to go towards: his good-brother, Lotaryon, is coming to King's Landing to attend the coronation, Daeron could propose a marriage betwixt Daenerys and him, he could also just take him hostage. More thought on that for later.

A page came running towards him. "Your grace! your brother has arrived."

"My thanks." Daeron got up and went to mount his horse. It's time to meet my new brother.

---

Maegor's holdfast was filled with whispers and murmurs as the great doors opened and through them, four men came forth. Daeron, sitting on the horrendous throne, recognised Lord Cedryc Celtigar, his master of whispers, whom he chose because of his reputation to be a shadow to all secrets and a silver-haired boy, Aenyx. The other two should be his sworn shield and the heir of Maidenpool. Daeron studied Aenyx's clothes; he was wearing a white shirt with large frills on the front and the cuffs.

Daeron ordered all the family to be gathered when Aenyx arrived. He put his wife and four sons on the left side of the room while his siblings were on the right, with Daenerys being closest to him.

"Your grace," said Aenyx as he bowed, the others followed. "Greetings. The name's..."

"Prince Aenyx of House Targaryen. The son of King Aegon IV and my brother," said Daeron.

"Yes, that," confirmed Aenyx.

Daeron chuckled. "It's good to see you, brother. I gathered the family here for you to meet. I introduce:" he gestured left. "My queen, Myriah Martell, my four sons, descending by age, Baelor, Aerys, Rhaegle and Maekar." he then gestured right. "And your siblings: Daenerys, Brynden, Myra, Gwenys, Aegor, Daemon and Sheira." Aenyx politely nodded to each.

"That's a lot of silver hair, to be honest." the hall filled with laughter.

Daeron smiled. "I have heard you were subject to quite an adventure, brother." the four saddened. It was not difficult to ascertain he made harsh regard to a matter most lamentable.

"It was hard, this adventure of mine. Caused a lot of dismay," said Aenyx.

"Someone harmed you, brother?" Daeron asked concernedly.

"Not me," Aenyx glanced at Lord Celtigar. "Aradrin Celtigar, the heir of Lord Cedryc, died in a fight with the tribe of Cracklaws."

The atmosphere turned gloomy. Daeron frowned slightly; his memory of Aradrin Celtigar was not more than his arrogance and hotheaded behaviour. He turned to Lord Celtigar. "My condolences, my lord. I can not claim to feel the pain you are dealing with, but I know I do not want to see any of my sons meet the divine before I could."

Lord Celtigar looked at him. His countenance cool and cold, his icy eyes chilling into Daeron's soul. "As your master of whispers, it is part of my duties to keep the royal princes and princesses safe from harm," he stated.

"You are still willing to perform as my master of whispers, my lord."

"Why not, your grace?" he asked coldly.

"I thought you would head back to Claw Isle..."

"I have nothing better to do upon my little isle."

"But your wife..."

"May the father judge her justly." Lord Celtigar said emotionlessly.

Daeron's eyes widened. So was Aenyx's and his companions. "I..." Daeron struggled to find the right word. "How?"

"She got fever a moon back, that and her depression made her fever fatal. Harshly yestern, about dawn, before we set off to King's Landing, she passed away."

"Again, my..."

"There is no need, your grace. The past is gone," he said.

"In that case, I welcome you to Red Keep, master of whispers," said Daeron bemused by Lord Celtigar.

Lord Cedryc fell silent for a moment. "While I am your master of whispers, your grace, today I came before you a petitioner."

"And what are you petitioning for?" Daeron asked.

"Justice for my son's death."

Aenyx spoke: "I assure you, your house guard brought justice upon every tribesman they encounter."

Lord Celtigar turned to Aenyx. "Not against the tribe, prince, against you," he said bluntly.

The hall filled with murmurs. "Can you elaborate your case, my lord?"

"Of course, your grace. I have strong evidence to believe that Prince Aenyx Targaryen has intentionally led my son to his death. Yestreen, When the prince was about to leave for his mission, he brought my already-drunk son to a tavern in the harbour and encouraged him to drink even more. The drunkness led my son's mind to turn blind, thus he left the castle to join the prince and after that, died by a tribesman. While it would seem unintentional from your perspective, your grace," he put out a parchment. "I have the vouch of three sober men, present in the inn at the time, who saw the prince with my son and heard the questions he asked about the secrets of my family. He wanted my son drunk so that he could blackmail me, for what reason, I do not know."

Daeron asked to have the parchment. Names with signatures, the three men described Aenyx and Aradrin Celtigar. Saying he asked about Lord Celtigar's supposed conversion to the Lord of Light or in some cases, the ancient Valyrian faith. Did Aenyx plan this? He's no more than a child, though he seemed shocked. What if Lord Celtigar was falsifying evidence to show his case veridical? he turned to Aenyx: "Prince Aenyx Targaryen, how do you defend the accusation?"

"I..." Aenyx thought for a moment. "Lord Celtigar claims to have the signature of three sober men, men neither I nor you, your grace know. His men are not present here to defend their sobriety. Thus the only evidence Lord Celtigar has is his word, for which I represent mine. I claim his accusation of falsehood for I never met Aradrin Celtigar besides the two times in the public."

"Lord Celtigar?" asked Daeron.

"I do not have those three men with myself, your grace. but the piece of evidence you hold is not my only one. For I have the word of my son, Aradrin Celtigar, when he came into my solar told me of his day in the tavern with the prince. In my solar were present, my steward, Tybolt Isimond and my maester, Ermand. The maester stayed behind while I brought Steward Isimond to vouch for me."

"By any means, bring him in," ordered Daeron.

A few minutes later, Steward Isimond came to Maegor's palace. None of the royal family, except for Myriah who was tired, left the holdfast and the trial; they were concerned for their newly-found kin. Steward Isimond was a thin man with a bald head. He was wielding a little book, probably the Claw Isle's economics.

"Steward Isimond, Lord Cedryc Celtigar claims to have the words of his son before the events of yestreen, do you vouch for him?" asked Daeron

"I remember everything, your grace; Lord Aradrin came to the solar said he was with the prince in the tavern of the harbour."

"Prince Aenyx?" Daeron turned to Aenyx.

Aenyx smirked. he turned to Steward Isimond "Did you the late Aradrin Celtigar; told you of his plan to join our party, steward?"

"No, my prince," answered Steward.

"Are you sure? A man whose drunkness has blind his mind would not resist telling his father of a heroic deed he's about to do," said Aenyx.

Lord Cedryc turned to Aenyx. "What are you implying, prince?"

"That if he would go as far to talk about red priests, he for sure would tell his father of his plans. I am accusing you of letting YOUR SON DIE!" Aenyx shouted. His face was victorious and proud, for a second; after that, he frowned and then put his hands on his forehead. Lord Cedryc was smirking. He turned to Daeron and asked if he heard Aenyx's admission.

"Prince Aenyx, did you invite Aradrin Celtigar to an inn for him to drink more and lead himself to death?" Daeron asked, no matter how hard it was for him to acknowledge his brother for doing this foul act.

"...Yes," Aenyx admitted quietly

"Then..." Daeron huffed out of frustration "I shall send you..."

"Your grace, if I may," said Lord Cedryc. Daeron nodded. "I do not seek the blood of another for my son; but to mend the feud between our two families, Two ancient houses of Valyria. I propose something that will overcome the grudges and the vendetta."

"What are you suggesting, My lord," asked Daeron. Everyone in the great hall went silent when he spoke his next words.

"I ask for the hand of Princess Daena Targaryen in marriage."

 

[Tenart]

"YOU BASTARD" shouted the tallest of Aenyx's brothers, Daemon, if he was not mistaken. He drew his longsword and was about to attack Cedryc when Daeron ordered him silent.

"No brother, let him do, for his right," Aenyx turned to Celtigar. "You are a bastard, Lord Celtigar. I should have known; you let your son die and killed your wife so that you could marry one of the royal family."

"Prince Aenyx Targaryen..."

"No, your grace, I implore, I have something to tell," he pointed his finger towards Cedryc. "Lord Cedryc Celtigar is a sorcerer, Aradrin Celtigar vouched at that, so had a chief man of the tribe his soldiers burnt." Cedryc raised an eyebrow at that.

"What is this mockery, Prince Aenyx?" said Daeron angrily.

"What a man!" said Aenyx mockingly; "Of Valyrian heritage! But your hair, I see, is black. You want the silver look back, don't you?" Aenyx hissed. He overlooked the scowls from his family to his words. "What better way than accusing the prince of the realm? You monster of a father led your son to die! You killed your wife! You insulted the royal family!" he turned to Daeron. "Your grace, send him to death!" he said dramatically.

"I second that," said Daemon. "Let me kill him, brother. I'll behead him with Blackfyre!" he roared. That sent the great hall into yells and shouts. All while Cedryc Celtigar stood there like a statue. Aenyx felt irritated and frustrated by Cedryc: he was irritated that the grim lord was neither angry nor scared, just standing there, motionless; he was frustrated that Celtigar executed this grand plan of his so poorly, the man he met on that damned isle was careful and patient, why would he do something so rash?

So out of these feelings, he went towards Cedryc, clenched his fist and punched him on his foot; because he was way taller. The punch did little to nothing as the toddler hands of Aenyx were not strong at all. Sometimes, he overestimates the power of a seven-year-old.

Daeron, face red from anger, stood from that ugly chair of his and shouted: "Everyone, except Lord Celtigar and Prince Aenyx, OUT!" Aenyx was surprised that his voice could range this high and overcome the courtiers' yells. It was the most authoritative thing. The hall slowly emptied as the last standing men were Aenyx, Cedryc and Daeron, climbing down from his pile of swords. The king's face was angry and tired. He put a hand on his forehead and massaged it gently. It seemed in consequence of his shout; he was suffering a headache. As he neared the two, nervousness in Aenyx arose, while Cedryc did not seem worried.

"Brother..."

"Silence," said Daeron. He turned to Cedryc. "Lord Celtigar, can you explain to me why..."

"Your court loathes you, your grace," said Cedryc softly.

"What?"

"I assume you did not hear the words their mouth shout; How they proclaimed their advocacy of my lordly rights. 'Give the defiant to the crab lord', they said, followed by 'Daeron the weak' and 'Daeron the unfair'. Some laid insults to your wife and children," he turned to Aenyx. "and some to your siblings."

Aenyx ground his teeth. "How come I did not hear any of those? and I was there next to you!"

"Prince Aenyx, do not talk this loudly," said Daeron, still in pain. he turned to Cedryc. "Your words, my lord, are cruel, but are they as much true?"

"Their abhorrence is not a wonder of today, your grace. When you promised me, the master of whisperers, I commenced building my network further beyond Driftmark and Dragonstone..."

"You had spies in my keep?" interrupted Daeron.

"Yes," he admitted bluntly, then continued. "My ears in King's Landing constantly reported the shared hatred towards your wife and your firstborn, Prince Baelor."

"Baelor..." repeated Daeron.

"Brother, do you not realise? He is deceiving you," said Aenyx. he was worried that with Daerion enthralling his attention to the grim lord, he would lose his case without talking.

Daeron turned to him. He now looked fatigued. From what, standing? "Right." he massaged his head again. "Our subject was about the events of past minutes. Lord Celtigar, is it fair to say you are of blame?"

"I would blame your two brothers, your grace," he admitted.

"You blame me? While it was you who started this mess?"

"You err in disregarding your faults, prince," he moved towards Aenyx. "Tell me, who shouted for my death?"

"Prince Aenyx, I expect of you, courtesy in the presence of the king. Shouting is for the courtyard; limit it to there." he turned to Cedryc. "And of you, Lord Celtigar, respect to your king. to not talk out of your reach."

"I apologise, your grace, I assure you, my intentions were just," said Celtigar as he bowed.

"If you by just, mean selfish and wicked, I agree," said Aenyx.

"Prey tell, Lord Celtigar, how am I supposed to see your intentions just?" asked Daeron.

"I needed a moment alone with you, your grace, to inform you of the threats to your reign."

"Couldn't you wait until the small council meeting?"

"In other words, couldn't you don't sell me like a bite?" said Aenyx.

"I needed proof for you, your grace, to believe my claim."

"Back to the courtiers' schemes, I see." mocked Aenyx.

Daeron was deep in thought. "I always knew the royalty of the court Aegon passed upon me was questionable..."

"They're hatred is candles for the fire of tomorrow."

"What fire?"

Cedryc glanced at Aenyx then back to Daeron. "Something we should talk about without the presence of your brother."

Daeron nodded. "Prince Aenyx, you can go but mind your manners next time you find yourself in the great hall."

"Where I go now?"

"Ask a servant to show you the Royal Apartments; you shall find your room next to Brynden's."

Aenyx nodded and made his way to the great door; before leaving, he glanced back at Daeron. Is he having a migraine?

---

Daeron made his way to his throne, the monstrosity of the swords the conqueror put together. Couldn't Aegon find another material to forge a throne? Flowers are pretty and soft; with Dragonfire, it could've been something beautiful to witness. Alas, his ancestors, much to their wisdom, were hollow on art.

As he sat, Lord Cedryc Celtigar stood in front. Daeron could look down upon him. Good, let him feel my superiority. "Now that Prince Aenyx has left, can you tell me your concerns, my lord?"

"Of course, my king." Daeron felt the power from that title. "You remember the last wish of the late King Aegon IV?"

"He legitimised all my siblings, yes I know."

"Well, as a result of that decree, we are facing a long-time threat to the realm you rule," he said distinctly.

"How so?"

"The consequences of the death of the young dragon was more than ceding Dorne back to independence, my king. One of which is the growing hatred of the Martells, which just so happens your wife is one," said Lord Cedryc as he put his hands on the edge of the throne. "Daemon Blackfyre wields a symbol of the long past days of yore when the dragonlords mounted their dragons over the skies of seven kingdoms. He wields that sword proudly, while you, my king, though you have the Dark Sister, you are quite feeble to use it." he pointed to Dark Sister, in the sheath, hanging in the corner of the hall. "Your public impression, with having a Martell as a wife, a dark-skinned son and weakness in showing the traditional requirements of a man will cause a great disrelish from the nobility to you And with that, an opportunity for the realm to suffer a coming rebellion to install Daemon Blackfyre as the king."

"Daemon has a sense of foolish bravery, but to the extent of waging war against me?" Daeron asked in disbelief.

"He would not if he's smart enough, but the leeches he's surrendered himself with will. Only one act to wrong them, they will start whispering into his ears. One of them is already enchanting him: Princess Daena."

"Why would Princess Daena dreamt of having me overthrown?" said Daeron. Daena was the sister to the young dragon, the king killed by the Martells; it is only fair for her to hate Daeron's wife, but why would she want Daemon on the throne? Is her hate this deep?

"She believes you wronged her, my king."

Daeron frowned. "I have already given her this much freedom; I did not shun her for her bastard. I did not force her to restrain herself. I let her have a set of servants."

"Not you, my king, your father did." Lord Celtigar corrected.

Daeron softened. "Well, that is not concerning; I shall assure her that her freedom shall maintain than the threat of war will be gone."

"I'm afraid that will not solve our problem, my king."

"Why not?" said Daeron as he felt another of his headaches.

"There is not just her fear or loath of you; it never was when I think about it," said Lord Celtigar as on his lips appeared something akin to a smirk. "It's the fear for her son. She thinks you envious of Daemon, my king. And if you are anything like your father, she fears her son will die before he reaches his ten-and-six nameday."

"Why would I have a desire to kill the brother I love?" said Daeron confused and offended.

"Do you truly?" asked Lord Celtigar.

Daeron scowled at him. "What's that supposed to mean? Of course, I do."

"Then you shall suppress his mother's urges ere the break of war," he said abruptly. "You care for the 'purpose' my king, do not let her meddlings destroy your plans for the time far ahead."

Daeron put a hand on his as of yet, uncrowned head. If this early to his reign, nobles of his realm were seeking to replace him, in the time after him, when Baelor was to rule, what will they do to make this land bleed? "But what if your assumption was false?"

"Then, my king, you have gotten rid of an unmarriageable kin."

"I still have doubts..."

"Hearken me, my king," Lord Celtigar's voice was firm and commanding. "She's a herald of woe; she thinks her son worthy of the place you have, for that, she will plant the seed of greed in Daemon, corrupting him. Daemon then will be the second Maegor and you, my king, the second Aenys." Daeron's headaches were becoming worse as Lord Celtigar spoke his words. "Don't let her be your Visenya. Marry her to me and end this foul plan."

Daeron raised an eyebrow. "You believe yourself mighty enough to control her?"

"No, my king, I will silence her."

Daeron, tired and in pain, tried to think on Lord Celtigar's remarks, but every time he would consider the inconsistency of his words or the possibility of him lying, a round of headaches would hit him harshly. They got worse after some minutes, to the extent that Daeron shouted his agreement: "Fine! Fine! have her! you shall marry after the coronation." Suddenly, Daeron felt his pain slowly fading.

Lord Celtigar bowed deeply. "A wise decision, my king," he said as he left the hall.

Daeron leaned back to his throne and sighed. He looked throughout the empty room, felt the wind breathe through the old Targaryen banners and saw the dust lay upon Dark Sister, the sword he never used. He climbed down from the throne and went to the sword, put it out of the sheath and looked at it, studying every inch of the Valyrian steel. He remembered his father's disappointment or just indifference when the Dragonknight informed him of Daeron's poor performance with the sword. His father huffed at that, reminding him of how he's a disgrace to his namesake. If you loved the young dragon this very much, why didn't you stay and die with him?

Daeron remembered the day Daemon wielded the Blackfyre as well. How his father sang his praise, laughed at his jests, sat him beside himself on the high table. Daeron swallowed his anger that day; instead of insulting Daemon, he congratulated him. Deep down, Daeron wanted to smack him, contempt him, remind him of his low birth, but he did not, for Daeron was always polite.

He thought about Lord Celtigar's warnings. If war broke out, he would wield Dark Sister and command his army. If he met Daemon on the battlefield, he would duel him. When he begged for mercy, he would end him there. None shall take my place as the king. He thought as he put the sword back to the sheath.

---

Aenyx set afoot out of the hall. He knew his 'brother' wouldn't take his side because why would he? he is probably planning something vile and evil with that damned Celtigar.

Angry and frustrated, he walked to the yard to breathe fresh air. The yard was not busy and noisy as it was early today when they arrived. Right now, two of his brothers were training while a blond-haired man observed their fight. The fight was a wild one, draining every inch of power from the two. Aenyx despised their sweety faces and their stinky shirts. There is no joy in sword-fighting, only wasting time.

"Prince Aenyx!" a voice called from the abysmal depths of the daytime shadow. Aenyx looked to the source and saw Valter with Ser Selvy approaching. "I hope we're not interrupting your silence, my prince," said Valter.

"How can I prefer the silence of my thought over the company of you two?" said Aenyx sarcastically. "Now, what is it?"

"Oh, well, Ser Selvy and I thought to take you for a tour to the city," said Valter excitedly.

"Alright. Why?"

"Because you're going to die," answered Valter bluntly.

Aenyx's eyes widened. "What?"

"If you don't eat enough, you will die; it's the natural order." Valter continued.

"In other words, we thought to take you to an inn, my prince."

"Oh, how very thoughtful of you."

"Well, as your only friends, it's our responsibility now," stated Valter.

"We're friends now?" asked Aenyx.

"Of course, we are! after everything we've been through: I rescued you," he pointed at Aenyx. "you destroyed my ship, then we eliminated a whole tribe. It's a legendry saga of friendship!"

"That's good to know, I guess." Aenyx sighed. "Let's go then; I prefer to be anywhere but around these stinky gits." he pointed at his brothers.

The three walked out of the great gate of Red Keep. The town looked miserable. Aenyx could see what for; it stinks. When Aenyx first smelt the reek of the city from the ship, he regretted having a nose. Hopefully, in some forty thousand years, someone would be clever enough to invent a sewerage or drainage system; Aenyx didn't know nor care how those plumbing mechanics worked, and he was not going to build them for these disgusting chavs.

As they walked, a group of people neared them. They held an ugly woman harshly by her hands and constantly shouted at her words Aenyx didn't care to hear. "Your Grace, you are a prince, right?" one of them said.

Aenyx pointed to his silver hair. "It appears so."

"Oh, thank the gods. you see this woman here?" Aenyx nodded. "This woman's a witch. We want to kill her, but we have no idea how is the intended way. The septon didn't specify, so we decided to ask the king, but now that you're here, could you pass sentence?"

"Sure," Aenyx agreed; he studied the woman; she wasn't attractive or even pretty, so he thought saving her life would be too much trouble for nothing. "Well, What better way to get rid of an old witch than burning her alive? returning her good parts to nature."

The men's face lightened while the woman's was in fear. "You heard, fellas? Let's burn her by the stake," he shouted. The men cheered while the woman cried as they lifted her.

Aenyx turned to his companions to see if they were bothered by the event. Ser Selvy looked pleased while Valter was smiling. "Any complains?" he asked.

Ser Selvy shook his head. "You did the right thing, my prince; the witchcraft is blasphemy, it says right here," he put a little book from his pocket and searched for a page. "'The crone saw the learning of the black magic harming mankind, so she exiled all of the witches from the land of wisdom.'" he said eagerly.

"Interesting to know." said aenyx uninterestedly; he turned to Valter. "and you, Valter?"

"I think she will find the fire amusing," he answered, smiling but wholeheartedly believing in his words.

"While she may find it amusing, she could not enjoy it as there's the problem of enduring because she will have a hard time breathing," said Aenyx.

Ser Selvy nodded. "Yes, breathing is an important part of living."

"I support breathing for everyone, even if the city stinks," Aenyx agreed, keeping his laugh with a chuckle.

"I watch people breath while asleep," said Valter.

Aenyx frowned. "That's the definition of a creep; do not do that on me."

"No promises, my prince."

Aenyx groaned. "Ugh, bugger."

The trio moved past the Red Keep to the Street of Silk, where, according to Ser Selvy, contained the best taverns of King's Landing. Ser Selvy blushed as he said that while Valter laughed and patted him. Aenyx found out why later when they arrived as he faced the uncountable amount of brothels and prostitutes; women wearing loose robes waiting for prey, hunting men and leading them to their brothels; Aenyx thought of buying several of these brothels, making a good profit out of them. Just as Aenyx was fanaticising, a hand pulled him towards the oaken door of a grand building which was the tavern. He looked at the hand and saw Ser Selvy; that faded his worry.

The building contained two floors connected by a staircase. Aenyx glanced at the moistened rusted tables on the second floor and the occupied ones in the first, filled with drunkards too drunk to laugh at their misery. "And this is the finest inn of King's Landing?" he asked Ser Selvy.

"Appearances are tricky, my prince," answered Ser Selvy. "Let us keep going inward where we shall find the place hidden from our eyes."

So this is like a secret club thing. Thought Aenyx as the trio walked through the drunks and the wasted. Aenyx found out that there was another staircase pointing towards the cellar where, as it turns out, rich people of King's Landing would pay to stay there with the endless amount of drinks. There were cinnamon candles, bards singing erotic songs and waitresses not so ugly, serving wine.

They sat upon the most exquisite table, decorated with golden lines and a crescent on a purple circle in the middle. "What a peculiar table," reflected Aenyx.

"It's the ancient table on which King Artys the Falcon ate his first meal in when he came to Westeros," said Valter.

Aenyx rubbed his hands on the moon, interested in its history. "Is this true?"

"It might be!" answered Valter.

Disappointment filled Aenyx as he leaned back to his chair; soon, a waitress came to them. She made a noise when she saw Aenyx. "Ow, what an adorable prince has graced us with his presence. What can I bring for you, my prince?"

"Ale for my companion," Aenyx looked at the two to see any objection; they both nodded in agreement. "And something of your choice for me, Pretty Lady." In his mind, he cringed at how that sentence sounded.

The waitress chuckled. "What a charming prince, just the type I like; I'll make sure to bring you the best of our wines, your grace." she bowed deeply and left.

Aenyx sighed. He wondered why he was allowed to enter an inn at seven. He then remembered that this is a world of great ignorance, so this is not so shocking; truth be told, nothing shocks him anymore.

"How do you find your siblings, my prince?" asked Ser Selvy. "Do you even know their names?"

"Huh?" Aenyx thought for a moment. He couldn't remember their names well enough. "There's Daeron, a Daemon, I'm sure, something with a -ys, Al Gore and Sara."

"Are you sure that's their names, my prince?" Ser Selvy asked in indecisiveness.

"There's literary no way for me to verify that."

"Aw, Too bad," said Valter.

The drinks came shortly afterwards, two ales for Ser Selvy and Valter and a sweet tasted wine for Aenyx. Aenyx noticed that the wine was more honey than alcohol. They care for drunk children, after all.

Aenyx glanced around the room and caught a man looking at him, his skin pale, his eyes red: an albino. He grinned and sat up, coming to their table. Aenyx, in confusion, looked away. "Mind if I join in?" his voice was charming and subtle.

Aenyx wanted to bid him away, but Valter interrupted. "Why, of course," he turned to a waitress. "A chair for here."

A chair quickly came which the man sat upon it. "Your name...?" asked Ser Selvy.

"Call me Abyl, Abyl the Red. Red stands from my eyes," he said as he poured himself some of Aenyx's wine.

"That's quite an obvious observation, my lord," said Aenyx deadpanned. He was not comfortable with the man at all; he seemed too confident of himself.

"Huh!" He chuckled. "I'm no lord, your grace. I can hardly call myself a man."

"Why so dither?" asked Ser Selvy.

Abyl turned to him and widely smiled. "I thought 'twas apparent, my good ser. I am something betwixt a Valyrian in the skin and a cat in the eyes," he said. "Oh, but people came to forget about my pale hair when they see red of my eye instead of purple of Targaryens." he drank his wine but jerked at its taste.

"A Dornish then," Valter stated.

Abyl laughed warmly. "Dornish, Reachman, Northerner, what's the difference when none can recognise you by your face?" he asked rhetorically.

"A fair point." Valter agreed.

"What are you doing in King's Landing, Abyl?" Aenyx asked to fill the silence.

Abyl smirked. "Why don't you guess?"

Aenyx raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Let's play a game. You guess my business for being here; if correct, I'll reward you greatly."

"'Tis a great idea!" Valter said excitedly.

"Indeed," Ser Selvy agreed.

Abyl turned to Aenyx. "Will you join us in my little game, your grace?"

Aenyx shrugged. "Why not. I don't have anything better to do anyway."

"Well, then let's begin," said Abyl. "But first, take a sip from your drinks, they say thinking is a bless of drunkness." Valter drank all of his ale while Ser Selvy and Aenyx took a sip. Abyl continued: "Now, I will give you a hint: My work lasts until the morrow."

Aenyx gave it a thought; he could sense that Valter and Ser Selvy were invested in the puzzle too. Now, what job demands an amount of time? He could be a sailor, sailing tomorrow to somewhere on this earth, but when Aenyx studied his body, he could not find any hardness or bruises on his hands or face; unless he's a merchant, there is no way this man could be a mariner, but his garments do not look rich; they're ordinary, he does not wear any rings also he looks way younger to be a merchant.

"You're here for the coronation?" suggested Ser Selvy.

Abyl nodded. "Yes, but that's not the complete answer."

"You want to murder the king?" Valter said bluntly.

Abyl snorted. "If I do that, my father will kill me."

Maybe he wants to part-take in the coronation? Mayhaps he is part of the staff? "You're here to attend the ceremony," Aenyx stated.

"Indeed."

Ser Selvy frowned. "But only nobles invited are allowed to be in the throne room at the time of the ceremony."

"Then I have to become a noble."

"But you said you are not a lord, then you either have to steal a lord's identity or become one tonight," said Valter.

"Not all nobles are lords," said Ser Selvy. "You're a Martell, aren't you?"

Abyl smiled. he sat up and bowed. "Prince Lotaryon Nymeros Martell, also known as 'The White Sand' at your service."

Valter stared aghast while Ser Selvy was frozen. Aenyx was confused. "How come you're a prince?"

Aby–Lotaryon sat down. "I thought royal princes would know their histories."

"This royal prince was busy hunting flies."

Lotaryon laughed kindly. "Well, you see, your grace, in Dorne, there is just princes and princesses."

A Principality then, Aenyx thought. "It's nice to meet you, Prince Lotaryon. I noticed neither my companions nor I did introduce ourselves; my name is Aenyx, son of King Aegon, this is Valter Mooton, heir to Maidenpool and my sworn shield, Ser Donatyon Selvy."

"What an interesting party to have as a company; now I have no regrets in joining you."

"Ah, what an honour to have another prince at our table," said Valter. "Now, Prince Lotaryon, if I remember correctly, you promised us a reward."

"That I did." Lotaryon agreed. "But I can't give it to you here; it's in another place."

I hope he doesn't want to kill me, thought Aenyx. "Don't you think it's a little bit suspicious to drag the prince of the realm to a place unknown to him?"

"You're right, my prince. But I need you to trust me without any questions. Can you do that?" he asked.

Aenyx sought to protest, but Valter interrupted. "Of course, we can; let us go to this place." he sat up, Lotaryon followed; Ser Selvy looked to Aenyx, questioning if they should too, Aenyx, bored of this place, nodded in agreement.

So the four exited the tavern to the street; they walked through a straight line, passing brothels. Aenyx was bemused at how many brothels this place has, almost like this street was allocated only to whores.

They reached a purple door decorated with flowers. Lotaryon knocked and said something quietly. The door opened, a brown-skinned woman wearing a silk robe appeared. Then the realisation hit Aenyx: This is a brothel!

Lotaryon planted a kiss on her cheeks before coming in; the trio followed, even if reluctantly. They passed through a narrow entrance to the main hall. It was grand, decorated with flowers and candles, also the smell of incense was growing in the air. The material of everything seemed rich and exquisite. Aenyx considered the wealth of these brothels. Affluence in a house of ill fame; it's not a shocking thing when a prince of Dorne visits one.

"My prince, my lord, good ser, welcome to my place of solace," said Lotaryon.

Aenyx looked around. "Alas, I can not feel my burden relieved like you, Prince Lotaryon."

Some women giggled, Lotaryon himself laughed. he turned to a blond woman in blue satin. "Alys, you see what a charming prince I brought?"

"Which one?" Alys answered seductively, remarking to the presence of both Lotaryon and Aenyx, but mainly Lotaryon.

Aenyx felt very uncomfortable. Trying to change the subject, he turned to the Prince of Dorne. "Prince Lotaryon, where is the reward you had stored for us?"

"Well, it's a reward mostly for your companions, my prince, but I'm sure Alys can figure out a way to guerdon your cleverness, right Alys?"

Alys grinned. "Oh, of course, there is. How can I not reward such an adorable prince?" she said as she patted Aenyx on the head.

Aenyx blushed and, at the same time, was irritated at her words. He felt he could meltdown and die with no regrets. Fortunately for him, the attention went to Valter and Ser Selvy.

"Are these two handsome men deserve rewards too?" asked Alys enchantingly as Ser Selvy's face went blank, but Valter kept his smile.

"Of course, they did a great deal to earn this," said Lotaryon. "Do you have anyone in mind for them?"

Ser Selvy's face went aghast. "Prince Lotaryon, I do not..."

"Please, Ser Selvy, you have gained the right to this night rightfully; you deserve this."

"But what about the prince?" he asked concernedly.

"With some cakes and some meats, I'm sure he will have a fine time," answered Lotaryon. Aenyx then thought about why even he was here? Why did they allow him?

"Names, Alys, names," said Lotaryon.

Alys scratched her chin. "Oh, I know!" she exclaimed. "Aryna, Brellia, come here, girls." with that, two brunette girls came from one of the rooms. As they saw Lotaryon and Aenyx, they bowed deeply, to the extent that their bosoms appeared. "Lotaryon, these two girls will be excellent for your friends."

Lotaryon turned to Ser Selvy. "Well, good ser, has any of the girls charmed you enough for a night?"

Ser Selvy couldn't find any words, but Lotaryon understood him perfectly. He gestured to Brellia to attend to the young knight while Aryna went to Valter. Soon, the two couples went to the different rooms.

After that, Alys leaned on Lotaryon and whispered something that made him grin. He lifted her; they went to the second floor, which Aenyx did not descry till now.

Then there, Aenyx found himself alone as he watched men come and sleep with women. Irritated and a little bit tired, he fell to sleep on the couch he found in the corner of the hall. And so, ended one of his most uncomfortable nights.

---

Aenyx woke up early in the morning. Thank god they decided to shut up, he thought. Last night was one of the busiest of the brothel. Aenyx could swear at least one hundred men came, spent some time and then left. The worst part was that he hardly had any sleep.

He sat up from the couch; a cramp pained him in his back. He was used to beds, it seems, even if he had not spent one night on the castle as of yet. When his sense of sleep washed out, he wondered if it would anger the royal family that a prince spent his night in a brothel?

He looked around the hall and saw Valter sitting in a corner, carving wood. "Valter, you woke up early."

Valter noticed him and smiled. "Ah, Prince Aenyx. I hope you had a wonderful night."

Aenyx sighed. "I sure had." his eyes cached Valter's cloth which wasn't wrinkled. "what about you? your cloth doesn't appear to be taken off by rush."

Valter shook his head. "I didn't find the time with the girl, Aryna, your grace."

"What for?"

"She's a cat now," Valter said bluntly.

Aenyx frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"She's part cat. Last night she kept repeating 'meow' so I thought she wanted to be a cat, we went to the streets; there, I found her a cat matched with her hair, but by that time, she had fallen asleep already, so I just sewed the cat to her and then threw her to the Blackwater Bay."

Aenyx's eyes widened. "Why?" he asked in shock and fear.

"Because cats sleep in the water, that's a common fact," Valter answered quickly.

"That's–no–I–I don't think that's accurate." Aenyx stammered.

Valter shrugged. "Well, that's what my father told me when I threw my cat into the sea."

"Your cat died... I think." Aenyx said uncertainly. He thought he was dreaming, which implies that maybe Valter isn't a sociopath after all.

"No, my prince, he went to sleep, then went to a farm, and I never saw him again," Valter said nostalgically.

"I mean...alright. So what happened next?" asked Aenyx.

"I came back and fell asleep until now." Valter smiled.

Aenyx sighed. "I don't know if this is a dream or you just being you."

"Unfortunately. We can not measure that," said Valter sadly.

"Indeed." Aenyx agreed.

 

[Tenart]

"Well, that was fun while it lasted," said Aenyx as he raised himself from the hard stone; he was referring to the affair which Valter started by admitting to killing the poor girl or 'helping her become a cat', according to him. The whores got mad at that; it was a surprise to see the prostitutes backing themselves up, even towards the prince of the realm and the sociopath heir of Maidenpool. So, when they started attacking, Aenyx felt fear at how determined they were. Luckily for him, Lotaryon interceded in his favour and reduced the punishment to some bag of gold and the eternal banishment from Street of Silk.

They also got the right to throw the three into the street. The three included Valter, Aenyx and Ser Selvy, who was confused and shocked at how fast he went from the room with a girl in his arms to the bottom of the street. Poor lad didn't even get the chance to wear his armour, which Alys took as payment for the night since Lotaryon wasn't inclined to pay. Aenyx was baffled at how easy they passed the judgment upon a man innocent of his companion's madness without any trial whatsoever. Am I ashamed for the times that I denied others' rights? of course not. But I cannot help but feel unease at the fact they trampled upon my rights and ignored the privileges I have without fear. Does having your way into Prince of Dorne's pants bring this amount of power?

"Oh, cruel fate finally stabbed; I'm a knight no more," murmured Ser Selvy somberly.

Aenyx turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "Is it because of the armour? If so, I think we can get you a junk to wear, for now, kind ser. In fact, I can see one right there along with those not very good looking people." Aenyx pointed to a lower part of the city where people looked like they were bathing in shite; there, in a cage of rusted things, there laid a chain mail, already breaking apart from the heavyweight of other stuff upon it.

"I wonder if Ser Selvy is not a ser anymore; shall I call him a commoner or not bother to talk with him at all?" reflected Valter, until then silent.

"Hey, shut up," said Aenyx, still looking at the chain mail, not bothering to turn around.

Ser Selvy grabbed his sword and raised himself. Since he had no sheath to put his sword on, he had to wield it around, bare. "I'm afraid a chain mail will not do, my prince. For I have lost far more than that junk could repay."

Aenyx turned to him. "Was that armour that important, Ser Selvy?"

"Well, it's not just the armour, my prince," he answered. "Don't get me wrong; the armour was a piece dear to me. If you had noticed it's heraldry, you would understand it's worth too."

Aenyx shrugged. "To be honest, I never cared about the paintings you painted there, ser," he said. "But, I shall say they were quite beautiful, I think." the first time he saw Ser Selvy, he was near laughing at the ridiculous seahorse he had upon the garment of his armour. He later concluded that Ser Selvy treasured the armour very much as he oiled and polished it himself and took great care of that piece of cloth.

"The armour...'twas from the knight I squired for," he rubbed off the dirt from his cloth. "He died a long time ago and left his armour for me, not his son."

"Kind of him to do that."

"And now I have lost it for all eternity," he said dramatically. Aenyx could hear his voice crack with emotion. He soon gathered himself and continued. "But that's not my only concern, my prince. There was a piece of news I received when you were in the great hall with the king." he struggled to find his words. "The dire news I received, it informed me that the group in which my squire and your mother were in, my prince, were found slaughtered in the road to Rosby."

So Mertha is dead, Aenyx reflected. She was the one he should have called 'mother' but never did because he didn't have any bond with her; the woman was dang annoying. It may come off cruel to feel nothing for your supposed mother, but that's what Aenyx was feeling. I mean, I had known her for an evening or so; how could I ever build a sense of affection for her? "How very sad to know that," said Aenyx pretending to be emotional.

"I wanted to tell you the news when you had a good night with us in the inn, but circumstances led us here," admitted Ser Selvy.

"Oh, your mother was far away from you, wasn't she, my prince?" asked Valter as he raised.

"Yes, she died thinking I died somewhere," concluded Aenyx. Ser Selvy made a noise of sadness at that, clearly filled with emotion for the fate of Mertha or his squire.

"I believe she sobbed through her last moments," said Valter.

"That's an observation I could agree with."

Aenyx noticed people looking at him strangely, whispering and murmuring. Oh, god, they're spreading a rumour! he turned to Ser Selvy. "People are talking about us, methinks. We will recover your armour another time, I promise you this, but now, let's return to Red Keep." By promise, he meant any time that he felt energetic and suicidal enough to return to this wreck.

"If that's what you command..."

"It is. Let's go," said Aenyx as he ran through the streets to get out of there. Valter and Ser Selvy followed him.

---

Daenerys found Daemon hitting a training dummy aggressively. She wondered where Ser Quentyn and Aegor were; as far as she could remember, she always heard the sound of swords clashing this time of day. Of course, she should've expected that the evermore was changed when Daeron announced his decree, marrying Aunt Daena to the crab lord, Celtigar. How could he ever do that? Aunt Daena specifically asked Father to wed her not, although no great lord would've wanted her after she's birthing a bastard, even if the child was one as great as Daemon. It wasn't shocking that she yelled and shouted all through the day, her voice even reaching the kitchens in the yard. She demanded to see Daeron and 'discuss' this with him, but Daeron was in his solar, working all day.

Daenerys had not seen his eldest brother after yesterday's affair with Aenyx; she also had not seen his newest brother; he was apparently out of the keep with his friends, the riverlord and the knight. How peculiar that he already has a sworn knight; father appointed me one when I was ten namedays. She dismissed Ser Staunton for she wanted to spend her time with Daemon; privately. Not private enough, palace servants and the guards here and there would never leave me alone.

As Daemon heard her footsteps, he turned. His features softened at her sight. "Daenerys," he greeted.

"Daemon," said Daenerys. she turned to the dummy. "You've shown a great deal of strength against a bag of sand," she jested.

He chuckled. "He asked for it, didn't you?" he asked the dummy rhetorically.

Daenerys looked around the yard. "Where are your training brothers, Daemon?"

"Aegor, probably furiously hitting his head unto a wall or something, Ser Quentyn, I dismissed him so that I can train alone when I can unfold my rage without him correcting me," he said as he put Blackfyre in the sheath. From all of his brothers, Daemon has the most bond with Aegor, while he likes Brynden, loathes Daeron and is blank on Aenyx, for now. "What about you, Daenerys? Why you're here instead of the palace with Gwenys and Myra?" he presumed her to be friends with her sisters, but it's not as it sounds. Myra spends most of her time wooing Baelor while Gwenys is always uncomfortable with anyone but her shared-mother siblings. Daenerys feels ashamed that she's not yet friends with her sisters, whom she had not seen for most of her life, but unless to force them, they wouldn't spend time with her.

"Your mother...was shouting about... the thing that happened, I couldn't endure her voice, so I came out," she felt guilty about how she spoke of Aunt Daena. She hoped that Daemon wouldn't find this insulting to his mother.

"Mother..." muttered Daemon. "I'm worried about her, Daenerys. I'm appalled about this betrothment, Daeron told me to calm myself, but I cannot!" he said as he again hit the dummy, but this time with the sword in the sheath.

Daenerys put her hand on his shoulder. "Don't stress yourself, Daemon. If Daeron thinks fondly of this betrothal, then there's no need for you to fear."

"But you've seen the man, Daenerys!" protested Daemon. "Cold, grim, suspicious. I couldn't dare to look at his eyes again; there was ice in his eyes, Daenerys; I saw my hollowness in his eyes, accentuating my fears and belittling my courage."

Daemon's discomfort saddened Daenerys. She couldn't claim she studied Lord Celtigar thoroughly, for she was frightened by the chaos after his 'request'. "He's just a crab lord, Daemon. What harm can a crab do to a dragon?"

"Don't you remember the tale? The one from 'Kaelia and Daemion'?" She, of course, remembered the story he was talking about, the crab and the dragon. 'Once upon a time, there was a dragon who ruled over the forest, his belly demanded an enormous amount of food, so, he ordered the animals to choose betwixt themselves, a group to be eaten by him. The higher species of animals, like lions and wolves, misused this opportunity to only grant the dragon lesser species like rabbits and does. All the animals were unhappy about this, but only a brave crab amongst them dared to save them. One night, he decided to sneak into the dragon's palace; there, he shoved his pincers into his neck and killed him. With his death, chaos broke out as the higher species tried to claim his power, but everyone was now free. Henceforth, the crab was called a hero of all the animals!' Why there is a tale about a crab but none about a mariner who wonders to the seas beyond?

"I remind you, again, we have Daeron. He is Jaeherys reborn. The lord of an isle too useless to even be mentioned in maps cannot fool him."

"That's what I'm afraid of, Daenerys. I do not think the crab lord is the sole mind of his plan," he went closer to her. "I think Daeron is the one behind all this," he whispered.

Daenerys' eyes went wide at his revelation. As she was to answer that, voices came from the gate.

"People love honeyed locusts and almond milk, my prince."

"I mean...what are you trying to say?"

"My point is, as far as I can tell, people don't mind if you take something they love and tear it to pieces."

"You know, that does sound like it makes sense."

Daenerys and Daemon looked at the source. She recognised the faces; her newly found brother, Aenyx and his two companions coming back from crawling into the city. Daenerys watched as Daemon went to him instantly. She followed him.

As they neared him, Aenyx saw them. "Ah, two of my silver siblings. Here to greet your little brother?" he looked at Daemon and noticed his anger. "Daemon, right? What has come to you? You're red as a chilly pepper." he said, smirking.

Daemon ground his teeth. "Daeron announced a marriage between my mother, Princess Daena and Lord Celtigar."

Aenyx's smirk fell. He turned to his knight. "Ser Selvy, catch a horse; we're leaving."

"Whereto, my prince?" asked Ser Selvy.

"ANYWHERE! Just get me out of this hellhole."

"You can't leave!" said Daenerys. Aenyx turned to her, looking unimpressed by her burst.

"But physically, I can, sister mine."

"I think by 'can't', the princess is referring to an unspoken law that you shall announce that you will have your leaves before the king, my prince." said the riverman.

Aenyx frowned. "Whoa-But I don't wanna!"

"And you cannot too," said Daemon as he crossed his arms. "Tonight is the coronation of Daeron, it's truly insulting if you left before he put the crown upon his head, and once he wears that crown, his 'exceeding kindness' will not let you out of these walls."

"It seems choices are few, my prince, but fret not; Court life is not so bad when you have friends like Ser Selvy and I..."

Aenyx turned to him. "There's still nothing decided, Valter," he said frustratedly.

Lord Mooton continued. "...But, I'm sure you will find living here quite amusing, my prince. There is always someone murmuring or mumbling in a corner, looking at you with eerie eyes as if you are a prey," he said excitedly.

"What did I just say?"

"Something, I imagine," answered Lord Valter.

Aenyx huffed. "This leads nowhere," he turned to Daemon. "So, your mother is remarrying; that's a thing, I guess."

Daemon pursed his lips. "My mother, a Targaryen princess, has to marry a lord of an isle filled with crabs, she has to sacrifice her prestige, her dignity, her freedom for nothing but a crab lord; this isn't just a 'thing'; this is a shame upon both my mother and me!"

Aenyx smirked, an evil one at that. "A shame you say?" he put his hand on Daemon's shoulder. "Brother, I think we have a mutual cause."

Daemon looked at him dubiously. "Do tell...brother."

His smile widened. "Reviewing the traumatising events of yestreen which led us to here: your mother marrying a supposed vampire and my life depending on whether the king had wakened up on the wrong side of the bed; it's safe to say we have an enemy we both loath and want to begone, Daeron."

What? How did he reach that conclusion? Thought Daenerys. She couldn't understand why her brothers blamed Daeron, for they should consider themselves more condemnable; for Daenerys saw Aenyx admitting that he led Lord Aradrin Celtigar to his death; she was there when Daemon raged and threatened Lord Celtigar to death, as did Aenyx. If anything, they are part of the blame for whatever happened. "Aenyx, Lord Celtigar is the one marrying Aunt Daena, not Daeron."

Aenyx groaned in irritation. "Sister, don't think this small. The marriage is not a problem, sans the life Daena will get with that sponge, Celtigar. The fact that Daeron allowed this to happen is the part that doesn't sit well with me. He doesn't need to endear the grim lord, for he has nothing to offer. So why would he grant Cedryc a marriage like this?" he turned to Daemon. "Brother, knowing the fact that Daena is your mother, I believe Daeron wants to emotionally hurt you by having your mother away from your reach, in the embrace of a lickspittle wanker like Celtigar."

Daenerys was clueless about what to say at that; there was a good chance that Daeron was indeed trying to influence Daemon's mentality by separating him from his mother, but for that, Daeron should feel truly insecure of himself to see Daemon as a threat, but, Daenerys knew the two were close enough to call themselves brothers; something many of brothers by blood would not. By the concern that hatred would occur from this, she turned to Daemon to try to clear his mind from these false rambles. "Daemon, please listen to me, do not grow Daeron as a shadow of threat. You know he never desired you any travails. When Father lifted the curtains upon your parentage when he bestowed you Blackfyre, Daeron could have conducted you impudent, but he did not; he accepted you a brother. If then he did not hold a grudge, then he wouldn't want you tormented now."

Daemon seemed conflicted and confused as he heard both statements. He opened his mouth but struggled to find words. He rubbed his face gently as he murmured something Daenerys could not hear. Suddenly, a blaring horn blew from a deep-throated call. Its blast broke the silence of the guards and the maids, overwhelmed and nervous, and echoed throughout the courtyard. The source was from the opened gate. Daenerys considered the sound to be an announcement of arriving, but she remembered that none of the noble houses in Westeros use a horn to inform their coming to a castle, except one, House Royce, she concluded. But they are vassals of House Arryn; Daeron specifically called for the attendance of the great houses; he wanted his coronation to be a short one. Daeron even relieved House Stark from attending as the journey from Winterfell to King's Landing would take more than he would like.

The riders soon appeared from the gate; their numbers counted to ten or so. A man of considerable importance wearing armour in the colour of bronze forepassed others and rode foremost. The man (who Daenerys considered Lord Royce) seemed old of age, fifty namedays Daenerys guessed, but his features were still robust; around his neck, laid the famous Horn of Runestone, old as the time goes; a horn which was blown by the bronze kings when they marched unto the battlefield and continued to be of use even after the arrival of Arryns. Of his eyes, one was grey, and the other nought, for it was filled with an object loosely close to bronze. Daenerys gasped at his bronze eye, which she could see contained some calligraphy upon it. Daenerys looked at Lord Royce's companions; there was a boy of the same age as Daemon, with features of Lord Royce, his heir, reflected Daenerys; there was also a knight with the sigil of three ravens holding three red hearts, on a white background, House Corbray, Daenerys frowned at that, It seems the party from Vale of Arryn has come to the coronation of the king without House Arryn.

Soon, the riders dismounted their horses; Lord Royce, with his heir and the Corbray knight, came forth to the three siblings. He must think we are here to greet him. The Bronze Lord studied each three thoroughly and glanced at Lord Mooton and Ser Selvy. He decided to greet Daenerys first, Probably because he is bothered by Daemon's and Aenyx's illegitimate background.

"Princess Daenerys Targaryen, I presume?" he said kindly.

Daenerys curtsied. "You presume well, my lord. Princess Daenerys, the granddaughter of King Viserys, the second of his name, from both paternal and maternal," she said sharply. "I imagine your journey was pleasant enough, my lord?"

Lord Royce kept a stern face. "If you do not count the unfortunate stay at Flea Bottom, then yes it was."

Daenerys' eyes widened. "You passed through Flea Bottom, my lord?"

Lod Royce raised an eyebrow. "No, your grace, we smelt it."

"Oh," said Daenerys embarrassedly. With that, Lord Royce moved to greet Daemon as his heir came to her. "Lord..."

"Alwin Royce, my princess." he interrupted in a rush as he kissed her hands. Daenerys felt unease as she saw Daemon secretly glowering to Alwin. "The tales have not done fairly to describe your beauty, my princess. I must say you look stunning."

"I...thank you," said Daenerys after a long pause. She glanced away to avoid Alwin's look; she misheard some of Lord Royce's conversation with Aenyx.

"...You rode a pony to cross the river to Maidenpool? Impressive, my prince," said Lord Royce.

"A most tragic tale, too, my lord," said Ser Selvy sadly.

"What? No, I did not ride a pony; I rode a destrier," said Aenyx offendedly.

"A horse is a horse, my prince," said Lord Mooton.

"That's not... technically incorrect, but..."

"My Prince, are you saying a horse is not a horse? because a horse is a horse."

Aenyx groaned. "Not every horse is the same, Valter. I rode a destrier and led him to his death, not a pony!"

"I know not if that's something to be proud of, my prince," said Ser Selvy.

Aenyx stared at the night for a second, then turned to Lord Royce. "I think it's high time we move on from my tale," he said, slightly ashamedly.

"Agreed," said Lord Royce bitterly.

Daenerys chuckled. She felt envious of the friendship Aenyx had with Ser Selvy and Lord Mooton. The three seemed at ease with each other, not minding the age gap; and always jesting. She never had something like that; her 'friends' were only interested in befriending her to influence the king through his sister. An imbecile thought for their part.

Daenerys then looked back, she realised Lord Alwin was still staring at her, and the two had not spoken for a time. "Er, I welcome you to Red Keep, Lord Alwin. I'm sure King Daeron expects you and your father to meet him at the great hall," she said hurriedly.

Lord Alwin bowed and offered her his hand. "Can I have your hand till we reached the great hall at the presence of the king, your grace? I'm sure my walk would be most enjoyable with the escort of a beautiful princess."

Daenerys widened her eyes, shocked and disgusted at his directness, she looked to her left to find Daemon and wrap her hand around him, but she saw him already making his way with the Corbary knight for the castle. She then glanced to her right and saw Aenyx; quickly, she pulled his hand into hers. "Sorry to disappoint you, Lord Alwin, but I promised Prince Aenyx that he will escort me."

"You did?" Aenyx moved his look between Daenerys and Lord Alwin for a second before realising. "Oh, of course, you did. How can I forget how pathetically I begged you to wrap me your hands?" he turned to Lord Royce. "Well, my lord, I think it's a solid idea if we move our conversation inside, to the great hall, Because King Daeron awaits-and-its a little bit cold, I'm cold, and you know, let's do that." he frowned at his gabbling. Daenerys found it funny, though she felt guilty about it; her mother taught her to not laugh at people's inabilities. She was glad when Aenyx accepted her hand, for she expected him to refuse to go near Daeron after how he spoke against him earlier. She suspected that Aenyx didn't have a clue where they were going.

"A most splendid idea," said Lord Royce as he made his way to the castle. "Follow me, son," he called for Lord Alwin, who followed him quickly. Daenerys and Aenyx, in silence, walked past Lord Royce and the Corbray knight and were the first who entered the great hall. She didn't Daemon with the knight; she presumed he had returned to the sparring yard to hit the dummy again.

---

"Princess Daenerys and Prince Aenyx Targaryen."

"Lord Oswin Royce, his heir, Lord Alwin and Ser Gwayne Corbray."

Announced these names, the master of ceremonies as they walked in. Daeron was puzzled when they mentioned Lord Royce. Lord Arryn didn't say anything about not attending and sending Lord Royce instead. Regarding Ser Gwayne, he expected him to come since he had promised him a place in the Kingsguard; the Cordray knight is one of the finest in the Vale, according to Lord Arryn.

Daeron was sitting on the throne; tonight was his coronation, and he had to make the minor decisions while the sun was still up there in the sky. To his left was Lord Celtigar that when told him of Aenyx's whereabouts, thenceforth, had not left the hall. In his right was his son, Baelor, who came instead of Myriah to counsel Daeron on 'which fabric for a dress for mother would do resplendently and which shirt would make him dignified'.

He glanced at the pair coming towards him, his sister, Daenerys, and his brother, Aenyx. He could not help but worry about what impact will Aenyx leave on his siblings' minds. There, he saw a boy who started his first day in King's Landing by threatening a lord to death and ended it in a brothel, according to Lord Celtigar. He indeed was a product of his father, stubborn and arrogant, but Daeron could make this work with him, as he did for his siblings, though he was not off to a good start.

He smiled at his sister. "Daenerys, it's good to see you. How was your day?"

Daenerys curtsied first. Then tried to look down as she hesitated to answer. "I went to the courtyard to see Daemon because I was rather tired from the disturbance of the palace."

Disturbance, Daeron snorted at that. Hours and hours of Princess Daena's shouts and yells, if I had not imprisoned myself into my solar, she would have eaten me alive because of the betrothal. "I hope your time with Daemon was more pleasant, dear sister." In truth, Daeron did not approve of how much time the two spent together. He was planning to betroth Daenerys to Prince Lotaryon (Once the prince cared to come to Red Keep, of course), and it would spoil his plan if his sister fell in love with Daemon.

"Indeed it was. I even had the chance to meet Aenyx there," she answered bittersweetly. Daeron figured Aenyx had done something his sister did not like, which wasn't a surprise to his part considering his shining actions in the past day.

Daeron then looked at his little brother. "Prince Aenyx, do you perchance, have anything to say about why your chambers were empty this morning?" he said unkindly.

Aenyx raised his hand and opened his mouth, but nothing came out for a good portion of time. Finally, he spoke. "Actually, I don't," he said as he looked down.

"Good," Daeron said sternly. "Now, I want you to attend your lessons with Maester Norwin. I do not know of your education while you lived in Darrynborough, but whatever that was, this royal tutoring will be much more sufficient for you. Go now." said Daeron as he gestured his hand to the exit.

Aenyx groaned. "I have already passed all those boring nonsense, brother, and let me tell you, I remember nothing of them at all."

"Out!" Daeron snapped. His tone intimidated his brother as Aenyx quickly exited the hall. Daeron turned to his sister. "Daenerys, Septa Ursula awaits you."

"I'll be there at once, brother," she said as she curtsied and left.

After his royal siblings left, Lord Royce and his companions walked to Daeron's in front. He walked proudly, and the look in his eye was stern. Daeron had heard the story of his bronze eye; well, rumour is a better interpretation. As far as the tale goes, his father, Clovys Royce, was somewhat of an unstable maniac with a strong belief in his runes; for that, he forced all of his children to pray to them and wore them at all times. Once, when a-four-namedays Lord Oswin refused, Lord Clovys' blood boil and his anger led to him shoving a piece of bronze into his heir's eye. The tale, accepted by neither Lord Clovys nor Lord Oswin, spread out of Runestone from the castle's servants gossiping, thus not something Daeron would believe on, at least strongly.

"My king," said Lord Celtigar in a hushed tone that only the two heard. "Lord Royce's presence is suspicious; mayhaps you want to question him?"

Daeron nodded at that. His sense, inclined with Lord Celtigar's words, found apt on his suspicion; however, he could feel his intelligence, in a corner, shouting to rethink through, but it eventually capitulated. Remembering the houses of the Vale, The Royces were not the only house of great importance sworn to Arryns; there was Redforts, Graftons and the most powerful of them, Waynwoods. If Lord Arryn intended to send a lord instead of himself, he should have sent Wyle Waynwood, a friend of Daeron's, rather than a Royce lord whom the king had never met before. "Lord Royce, it is an honour to have you here in Red Keep. Although, I must say I was expecting the blond falcons of the Eyrie, not the bronze knights of Runestone."

Lord Royce bowed. "Lord Arryn, despite most regret and rue, could not attend the ceremony as he had matters to regard in Bravos. He asked me, as his humble servant, to come instead of him and sworn you his fealty."

How dare he? Thought Daeron bitterly for a second before changing his mind, Although he could have good reasons to sail Bravos instead of King's Landing. "How come Lord Arryn chose you, my lord?"

Lord Royce took a glimpse at Lord Celtigar. "I wasn't his lordship's choice, your grace, for he left without selecting one. The lords of the Vale chose me."

Daeron raised an eyebrow. "And why is that?" he asked.

Lord Royce now stared at Daeron in the eyes. Daeron could swear he saw his bronze eye shining for a second. "They thought me worthy for this position."

Most likely by your bribes. Thought Daeron as he looked away from his stare. "Well then, you are welcome to take part in the coronation, rejoice!" he said with a fake smile.

Lord Royce bowed again. "I thank you, your grace," he said as he and his son exited the hall.

"I hope you keep an eye on him, my king," murmured Lord Celtigar.

"I will," answered Daeron as he beckoned for Ser Gwayne.

---

Aenyx wandered the halls of Red Keep with anger and frustration. He couldn't believe Daeron sent him for schooling, one of the most intelligent people of this hellhole, to be tutored by some whacky old monk. Ugh! may the bogeys haunt your dreams, Daeron. He thought as he reached the library of Red Keep, vast with enormous shelves of books and a large table in the middle where a boy and a girl, both silver-haired, were sitting. Aenyx presumed them, siblings, as he made his way to the table.

The boy, who had something like a stain under his cheek, beamed when he saw Aenyx; he wawed his hands at him. "Aenyx! Aenyx! Come here," he gestured to an empty chair next to him.

He sighed as he sat next to the boy. He looked around but found none but the boy and the girl. "I shall say, I expected more people to attend the classes."

"There are more people, usually, but at this hour, we three are the only tutees of Maester Norwin." stated the girl.

"Because we're of the same age, I get it," said Aenyx "where's this maester, anyway?"

"Attending Princess Daena, of course." said the boy.

Aenyx chuckled. "I didn't know newly brides preferred old maester to comment on their wedding gown rather than her ladies-in-waiting."

The girl raised an eyebrow. "Maester Norwin is not there to sew her a gown. He is there to treat her after her severe breakdown."

Aenyx nodded. "Understandable on her part, I would've killed too if I was going to marry that dolt, Celtigar," he said as he looked at the book the girl was holding. "What are you reading there?"

"Oh, a... romance, I think?" answered the girl.

"You think?" asked Aenyx.

"It's because the book is perplexing and hard to understand. It doesn't have any images. It's practically blank!" said the boy.

"It's not that bad. You have to use your imagination, and then it's all clear," said the girl as she held the back upturned.

"Let me try it then," said Aenyx as he leaned and grasped the book. It had a red cover with no title or anything. He opened the first page and found it blank. He turned the page and again saw blankness, he tried a few other pages, but all were empty. He swept through the book and found it was truly blank. He looked at the girl with baffled eyes. She, in return, shrugged. Aenyx put the book away. "Well... now that that's over, shall we do something?"

The boy grinned. "Shiera and I wanted to play 'Small Council'. You are welcome to join us, Aenyx."

Shiera? That's a weird way to say Sara, but then again, everyone here is a bunch of odd bods. "Sure, I'm in. Not that I have something else to do," he murmured the last part. "So, what is this game of yours?"

"Like a small council. The king, in this case, Brynden, sits at the edge, the hand, which I am, sits next to him, then there is Master of Laws, Master of Ships and so on," said Shiera. "We lack on every other position, though, for that, you could fill the one you like."

"How many people do you need to play this thoroughly?" asked Aenyx.

"Five, minus you," answered Brynden.

Aenyx smirked. "Well, our council shall be mid-filled then because I know two people who would like to join us."

"By all means, bring them in," said Brynden.

"Oh, I was planning to," said Aenyx as he went searching for Valter and Ser Selvy. He found them in the yard and brought them to the library a few minutes later. Ser Selvy agreed to take part in the game as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and Valter was very eager, more than average, I could even say, to play as the Master of Whisperers. With that, the game started.

"Greetings to you, lords and ladies, if you may, we shall begin our council," said Brynden as he sat. Everyone followed.

Aenyx was first to speak. "As the master of laws, with permission of his grace, I shall express concerns first because that's what we all do here, and the conversation can thereupon continue." Brynden gestured for him to carry on. "As we all know, 'dura lex, sed lex', for that, I propose our courts to cut attorneys, not declare any adjournment sine die, have some fatal punishments on fratricide, oh, and have the verdict be sums up by, yours truly, me." Brynden and Shiera nodded at his words.

"That was some great gibberish, you said, my prince," said Valter.

Aenyx turned to him, eyes wide. "That wasn't..."

"But if you excuse me, I shall 'express my concerns' now," he winked at Aenyx. "As the master of whisperers, I have brought news for you, your grace, would you care to hear them?"

"Of course, Lord Mooton," answered Brynden with a grin.

"Well then, the first news is regarded to an earthquake!" he said dramatically.

"Truly? Where?" said Brynden in shock.

"In Yi Ti," answered Valter.

"I mean, I don't know where that is, but can we get back to..."

"Was there any casualties?" asked Shiera.

"A mug of ale fell from a table, and an old woman bit her tongue."

"Oh, that's awful," said Shiera as she put her hands on Brynden's shoulders. "We should send help!"

"Yes, we should," agreed Brynden as he turned to the lord commander. "Ser Selvy, can you muster forces and send them to Yi Ti to help the people?"

Ser Selvy made a nervous noise. "I'll look into it, your grace."

"Alright, now back to me," Aenyx turned to Brynden. "I have thought of installing..."

"Do you know who died?" interrupted Valter.

"Who?" said Shiera. "Tell us, Lord Mooton."

"The dog of the son of Lord Stark,"

"That dog was still alive?" asked Ser Selvy curiously.

Valter shook his head. "No, the dog died twenty years ago in Dorne, but his anniversary is near, and Lord Stark is pretty sad."

"That is so sad," said Shiera grievously.

"Alright, I guess that is sad, but that doesn't affect anything. We can't do anything about it. There is no impact of that news when you compare it against my plans," said Aenyx.

"We should send flowers for Lord Stark," said Brynden, overlooking Aenyx's comments.

"I shall manage that," assured Shiera.

Suddenly, Valter got up from his chair. "Princess Myra was kissing Prince Baelor; if you can believe that!".

"She should know her place better," said Brynden.

"Who's Baelor again?" asked Aenyx.

"The eldest son of King Daeron, your nephew."

"Oh," Aenyx grinned. He turned to Valter. "That was good news, for real." Aentyx was already planning to seduce this Myra into breaking Baelor's heart. I'm going to harass someone! he sang in his mind.

"Anything else, Lord Mooton?" asked Shiera.

"There is actually!" said Valter. "The most important news as of yet."

Brynden got excited. "Do tell! do tell!"

"A man fell from a ship in Lannisport and got hit by another ship that his long lost brother was on; they never met, and now they're both pregnant." Aenyx could feel Valter's voice crack with emotions; Believing your own stories? Now that's news.

"That was just utter..."

"We should help them!" said Shiera in a loud voice.

And Aenyx witnessed the recreation of the same reaction to the first news. "This government is officially dead," he murmured as he leaned on his chair. As his playmates played along, he thought on Baelor and his plan, Daeron and how he wants to cut his tongue out and Lotaryon on how to get back that armour of Ser Selvy. Barely a month, and I'm drowning with problems to solve.

 

[Tenart]

"There are more than twenty houses sworn directly to the crown; amongst them, Hayford, Farring and Celtigar," Ser Selvy stopped to pour milk for himself. From two or three hours ago, the trio, Aenyx, Valter, and Ser Selvy, remained in the library while Shiera and Brynden took their leaves. They stayed because Ser Selvy sought to teach Aenyx about the different houses on the vast plant of Westeros, And god, there are many of them.

Aenyx huffed as he grabbed his goblet and drank. He jerked at the taste, "Ugh! who thought milk would be a good idea?"

"You were asking that for three times now, my prince, and yet, your mug is always empty to renew," retorted a smiling Valter.

Aenyx gave him a confused look, "Why... Why are you here, Valter? Your mission was to deliver me to King's Landing, and you not only failed at that, but now you're clung to me like a tick."

"Why, my prince, I'm here as your loyal servant. I have sworn you fealty, do you not remember?"

"No, I don't," said Aenyx as he turned to Ser Selvy, "Ser, do you remember such occasion?"

"No, my prince, I truly don't."

Valter was shocked, "Oh, I'm sorry if I was not clear, my prince," he soon reput his smile, "But I can perform it to you now!" he exclaimed as he sat up and walked near Aenyx. He fell to his knees and offered his hand. "Prince Aenyx Targaryen, in the name of the father, I shall see you justly, in the name of the mother, I shall serve you humbly, in the name of the warrior, I shall fight for you bravely, and in the name of the crone, I shall counsel you wisely," he turned his head to Aenyx, "My prince, do you accept my vow?"

Aenyx turned to Ser Selvy, "Can I decline him?"

"I don't believe so, my prince."

He sighed as he looked back to Valter, "Then, Lord Valter Mooton, I shall accept your offered hand. You may serve me just as you were, but now official."

"Huzzah!" Valter cheered for himself.

"I must say the ceremony, though chivalrous, was not an apt execution to what the lords of the Westeros said when they offered the conqueror their hands," complained Ser Selvy.

"Well, my good sir," said Aenyx as he sat, "I'm glad the great lords of the seven kingdoms were not present here to see me crumble in my words; I'm sure some of them would find it extremely offensive."

"Lord Tully for sure wouldn't," said Valter as he raised, "I remember when I served as a squire for him, he wouldn't mind if I called him by his name - he's a man worthy of high prestige and renown."

Look at that, a man Valter respects; if Valter's a sociopath, he's definitely a psycho one, "Lord Tully seems an... interesting man," said Aenyx, "It's a shame I won't have the pleasure to meet him."

"Oh, but you will, my prince," retorted Ser Selvy, "This is the coronation of King Daeron, an occasion in which all the lords attend to renew their vows to the king. I'm sure Lord Tully will see it fit to attend."

"Well, I guess it's not a bad turn of events," said Aenyx as he thought through the possibilities of him getting out of King's Landing, "Valter, you squired for Lord Tully; do you think you can recommend me to him?"

Valter shook his head, "I'm afraid Lord Tully had already acquired two squires, Devin and Tristifer Rivers; I suggested them to him, I might add."

Aenyx raised an eyebrow, "Rivers? I'm not sure if I've heard a house with that name."

"Rivers is not a house, my prince; it's a name given to the basterds born in the Riverlands," explained Ser Selvy.

"A bastard, eh?" Aenyx smiled, "I'm sure Lord Tully wouldn't mind trading one of two with a charming royal prince like myself."

"Might I remind you that technically you are a bastard yourself, my prince?" asked Ser Selvy.

"A royal one," Aenyx pointed out.

"Still," said Valter, "I do not think Lord Tully would replace his sons with you, my prince."

"Oh, the bastards are his sons?"

"Indeed they are," said Valter, "Tristifer from an unknown Riverlord noblewoman..."

"And Devin from Relinor Lannister," ended Ser Selvy.

"Lannister?" Aenyx scratched his head, "Aren't they coming too?"

"Of course," confirmed Ser Selvy.

"And how related is Lady Relinor to Lord Lannister?" asked Aenyx as he grabbed his goblet to drink.

"His... daughter."

Aenyx coughed heavily, so much that milk came out of his nose, "Daughter?" he asked in shock, "So let me make this clear: A lord who was naughty enough to blow another lord's daughter is coming to the exact ceremony as the blown daughter one?"

"You perfectly explained the situation, my prince," praised Ser Selvy.

"I gather Relinor is bringing his husband along?"

"Oh, she doesn't have one," said Valter.

"Whyever not?"

"Well, Lord Tully..." Ser Selvy struggled to find words, "Deflowered her at the early age of Ten-and-five."

Aenyx rapidly winked and tried to say anything but found himself at a loss for words, "Oof," he said as he rubbed his forehead. Suddenly, a thought hit him. He smiling, turned to Ser Selvy, "Is she pretty?"

"Not really, no," answered Valter instead.

"Ugh, bugger," cursed Aenyx, "Still, can I marry her?"

Ser Selvy was taken aback by his question, "I see no reason you cannot, but, my prince, are you sure you want to betroth yourself with a deflowered daughter?"

Aenyx quickly turned to him, "How dare you view a lady based on materials? You cannot judge a book by its cover, my good sir," he retorted.

"Does that mean you wouldn't take her dowery?" asked Valter sincerely.

Aenyx scowled at him, "Of course, I will take the dowery; what kind of man do you think I am?" he said with a hoarse voice.

"I doubt Lord Lannister would accept your request, my prince," said Ser Selvy, "He's rather sensitive on this particular subject."

"Well, we just have to show him how amazing I am," said Aenyx as he rubbed his chin, "We shall show him a flawless image of mine."

Ser Selvy chuckled. "I appreciate your enthusiasm for the holy deed of marriage, my prince, but do you truly want to deceive a man?"

"It's not deceiving, my good sir," answered Aenyx, "We just want Lord Lannister to see me as the manifestation of perfection!"

"Oh, I know just the way!" exclaimed Valter, "I've heard Maidens fancy the men who know their way with swords."

"That's not what the actual quote is," said Aenyx.

"But Lord Valter has the right mindset, my prince. The ability to hold a sword is something you shall consider to achieve."

"And why should I do that when I already have a knight sworn to me?"

"Because it's a traditional custom, so to speak; expected from a landed knight's son, much more from you, a prince," explained Ser Selvy, "The nobility is the man immaculate, chosen by the seven-who-are-one to represent them in the great earth. What other reason to choose Hugor of the Hill as a king and not a magister, my prince?" His face lightened as he went on in his religious bigotry. Aenyx, however, understood his meaning.

Aenyx thought for a second. "Hmm, based on what I have seen thus far of this land and these morons, symbolism is highly distinguished and praised. I could build a prestigious reputation on something assuring in me that people would point their fingers to and reference it."

"An observation worthy of note, my prince." praised Ser Selvy. "Noticed how no one no longer names their children 'Maegor'? No one wants to be a reminder of the Cruel king. On the other hand, 'Baelor' and 'Jaehaerys' became well-liked for they represent the best of kings Westeros ever produced."

A good name then; reflected Aenyx. "Well, get on with it; what does my name mean?"

"Um..." Ser Selvy thought for a long time before answering. "I don't know, my prince. I always thought it was a variation of Aenys."

"But It has inconsistencies: the 'S' at the end adds to the meaning, 'the benevolent, while with 'X' it becomes meaningless," argued Valter.

Aenyx raised an eyebrow. "I was not aware you were a nameologist, Valter."

"Oh, I'm not; this is all part of my vast knowledge on High Valyrian..."

"Yeah, I don't care," said Aenyx as he turned to Ser Selvy. "So, not a variation of Aenys, any suggestions?"

"It seems High Valyrian is extremely different to our common tongue, my prince. I'm afraid I cannot recognise any meaning from your name," said Ser Selvy. "Neither can the smallfolk, for I'm sure none knows High Valyrian."

"That's why I'm trying to find..." Aenyx paused as an idea hit him. "No one knows High Valyrian; I can easily tell them a made-up word, and they'd believe me."

Ser Selvy did not seem satisfied with this plan. "But my prince, deceiving the elites of nobles and the smallfolk alike is a dangerous path to walk in. I'm sure you have other qualities from which you could use."

"Well... I have silver hair but so does all the royal family, so that doesn't count," retorted Aenyx. He thought about dragons: maybe he could restore them? Nah, too much work for just an oversized fire lizard. "Perhaps I could do something for which I'll be famed?" An adventure to someplace far away, perhaps? Aenyx turned to Valter. "Do tell, Valter, what's the most bewitching place in this great earth that mariners aspire to sail and adventurers to divulge?"

Valter smiled widely. "Why, of course, there could only be one place with such requirements, my prince, The lost city of Yeen!"

"Well, let's go there then," said Aenyx.

Ser Selvy narrowed his eyes. "I wouldn't recommend it, my prince," he warned. "The ruins of Yeen are one of the most dangerous places on Plantos. Every time someone sets up a settlement there, all the inhabitants would die shortly afterwards from what they call the 'curse of the jungle'."

Aenyx rolled his eyes. "Right, I survived sea-dicks and bandits, but I can't endure some hot-weathered summertime, heh," he chuckled but then remembered the once-existence of dragons. "Oh, I don't want to die. If I'm dead, then who would cash in from my fame? That prick Daeron?" he asked rhetorically. "No, that wouldn't do. I'm cancelling the voyage; we're back to making up meanings for my name."

"How fickle of you, my prince," commented Valter.

Aebtx did not answer that as he picked a random book. "We shall find anything Valyrian related and somehow shovel my name onto it, understood?"

Valter rubbed his chin. "I think we can 'misconnect' your name," he winked playfully, but Aenyx just sighed, "With one of the Valyrian gods."

Aenyx's face lightened up, "That's a good suggestion, Valter-" he praised. "- In a world full of religious morons, what better way to fame than hearing the god amongst a flock of sheep?" he paused, "Now, for a good lie, we must put some truth in it, so we must read all the accounts on the Valyrian gods."

"I'm afraid there's not much to read about, my prince," said Ser Selvy, "King Baelor the Blessed ordered the burning of books on the infidel religion of ancient Valyrians to replace them with illustrated versions of The Seven-Pointed Star, versions like mine."

Aenyx stared at him with his mouth ajar; This couldn't get any better, he thought as he beamed. "So there are no details left on the Valyrian religion?"

"We know certain things, my prince," articulated Valter, "The Valyrians worshipped many deities. Amongst them were Balerion, Syrax and Vhagar."

"Good then," said Aenyx with a smile, "I declare the existence of Aenyx, the god of ... um," he turned his look around to find something and stopped at his goblet, "Drinking, yes, the god of drinking, not particularly milk, though, all kinds of drinks."

"The god of tricksters, truth be told." said a strange voice further far from the trio.

Aenyx turned to the source and saw a fragile silver-haired boy with a book in his hand and several scrolls under his shoulders; he wore a weak smile, and from his eyes, one could sense creepiness. Ugh, another freak, he reflected.

Ser Selvy quickly leaned towards him, "Prince Aerys, the secondborn son of King Daeron," he murmured. Aenyx first frowned but then relaxed his features. A loyal freak, then.

He faked a smile, "Nephew," he greeted, "What an absolute... coincidence to see you here."

Aerys snorted, "I wouldn't say that, uncle," Aenyx jerked at that; He decided he disliked Aerys and that title. "I made a habit of lurking around this library. In fact," he grabbed one of his scrolls, "I might have overheard your interesting conversation and thus searched for this particular scroll, 'The Pantheon of Gods', which denotes all the gods Valyrians worshipped and cursed - Your name is the latter I might add."

"A mighty accomplishment for a little weasel, nephew," Aenyx retorted.

Aerys smiled widely, "Oh, uncle, you could give the worms shiver with that mouth if they weren't deaf or had a mind to the least."

Aenyx raised an eyebrow and wanted to respond, but Valter interrupted him, "If I might ask, how this peculiar book found its way to you, my prince?"

Aerys turned to him, "I'm sure you'll find the tale quite interesting, Lord Mooton: Princess Elaena borrowed this book before King Baelor put her and her sisters into the infamous Maiden Vault. She never found the chance to return it, and on an account, she read this hundred times because she had none else to read and nothing else to do."

Ser Selvy's face sombred, "I'm sure Princess Elaena treasured this book as she treasured her time with the late Lord Oakenfist."

The room fell silent until Aenyx spoke up, "Anyway," he turned to Aerys, "Done with rumbling around, nephew?"

Aerys turned to him, mouth opened to say something but closed it as his eyes widened. "Oh, I completely forgot; is it noon yet?"

Valter looked at a window, "I believe so, my prince."

Aenyx raised an eyebrow, "What's significant in the noon?"

"Father asked me to greet Lord Lannister when he arrived, and it's by noon, which is now," he nervously explained as he made his way to the doors.

Lord Lannister? "Wait!" yelped Aenyx, "Let us three accompany you," he suggested.

"Why would you exhaust yourself by meeting an old lord whose all grumpy from the long journey?" said Aerys hesitantly.

Aenyx tried his best to smile, "Why, what other reasons than helping my dear nephew, who helped me just seconds ago?"

Aerys laughed wickedly, "What idiot do you think I am, uncle?"

Aenyx pretends to think, "a bookish one, I presume."

Aerys did not respond to that as he was still laughing. When he stopped, his eyes shone as a thought hit him, "The only thing you can get from meeting that old sponge is to court his daughter, Relinor."

"So, you would let us come with you?"

"OH! no, I'm just getting started," said Aerys as he raised his index finger, "You have to accept me into your little pack," then his middle finger, "And I want Ser Selvy to train me."

Aenyx frowned deeply, "You understand that you're in no position to demand me things, right? If anything, I can walk to Lord Lannister and introduce myself as 'Aerys, knight of dead prostitutes', you like that?"

"I wouldn't be this much of a brute if I were you, uncle," he chuckled, "Because sometimes, people forgot their own words, in this case, 'That That prick Daeron', which apparently, you said." he smiled widely, so much that Aenyx could see his ugly teeth.

Aenyx kept silent for some seconds. He was furious and humiliated by his carelessness, which resulted in Aerys hearing his words. God, I hate this boy. "Fine, you have it. Satisfied?"

"Wholeheartedly," retorted Aerys as he opened the great door, "Now, as my grandsire never said: let's do some business."

Aenyx followed Aerys and gestured for Valter and Ser Selvy to pursue. "Just a thing, the pack we three share?" he asked Aerys.

"It's a name given by the people to your friendship with Ser Selvy and Lord Mooton, uncle. They call it; 'The Knight, The Lord, The Prince'. I want to be a part of it."

"You're that lonely?"

Aerys made a sound of annoyance, "It's not loneliness, just that I see you three as the right people to befriend. You proved to be perfectly problematic; for a prince who's only known to be a bookworm, that's a great setting for the public image."

Aenyx did not respond to that, but he silently agreed with his horrible nephew. The four passed through the hallways to the infamous courtyard. There, Aenyx saw a crowd of people with Lion emblems. Oh, we're late, he reflected.

Amongst the crowd, one was the most distinguished, a bald man with a belly sitting on a sofa, "Lord Tyler Lannister, my prince," muttered Ser Selvy. Aenyx speedily forepassed Aerys, who looked at him with widened eyes and, in return, followed swiftly; they raced towards Lord Lannister, who did not notice them until they were two feet away from him; He snorted at sight.

Aenyx pulled Aerys back as he reached the bald lord, "Lord Lannister..." he said breathlessly, "I..."

"I recognise that voice everywhere; you're one of Aegon's little sperm tubes, aren't you?" interrupted Lord Lannister, "What are you, Snappy? Is that it? Crapy?"

Aenyx was shocked but quickly put himself together and nervously smiled, "Actually, my name is Aenyx, my lord; you might care to know it means 'The God of Drinking' in High Valyrian."

"Oh my gods," said Lord Lannister in a high pitched voice, "Of course, I don't care about that," he turned his head towards a golden-haired young man, "My ale?" the man was quick to offer him a mug, "Listen, pal, I need you to get me that fat-ass Tully so I can shovel my dick into his eyeball, understood? He's as welcome near me as a turd in an Arbor wine," he murmured the last part.

Aenyx's eyes widened in astonishment, "Well, uh..." he turned back and forth between Aerys to Lord Lannister, "You know what? I'm going to let my dear nephew handle this, Prince Aerys?" he said as he pulled Aerys in front.

"Lord... Lord Lannister," said Aerys nervously, "With utmost respect, my lord, we cannot have you this angry at the coronation ceremony of my father, which is the king."

"Oh, you're the king's son? Can I blow you?" said Lord Lannister.

Aerys' eyes widened, "My lord, that's extremely inappropriate..."

"I'm not having that, Prince," retorted Lord Lannister as he raised from the sofa, "I've been waiting here for an hour, and none of the royal brood felt like it to greet me; Seven hells," he turned to the cupbearer man, "I'd had a more productive time if I installed Reymond here to dance for a fat sweety lady in a Wednesday night, which I'm pretty sure he already does that, right Rey?"

"Yes, my lord," answered Reymond.

Lord Lannister laughed at that, "Anyway," he said, "I'm bored now; I'm going to invade Faggy Tully in his solar; mayhaps there we could have some good private time," he marched to the palace doors as Aenyx and Aerys tried to stop him.

Suddenly, The doors opened and from there emerged Daeron and the other people Aenyx did not care to remember.

"Your grace," said Lord Lannister as he bowed loosely, "Good day for crowning, eh?"

Daeron raised an eyebrow, "Lord Lannister? I was expecting you an hour ago."

"You must thank your little ambassador for that; it seems he was too busy muddling with the She-Man here," he pointed to Aenyx.

"I might want to deny that," declared Aenyx.

"I will talk with Prince Aenyx and Prince Aerys," said Daeron, "But right now, would you care to accompany your king on his way to the coronation."

"Oh, is it now, father?" asked Aerys.

"Yes, I gathered the party to walk to the Sept of Baelor, where the High Septon will perform the ceremony, then we shall have a feast in the palace."

"Seems good to me," said Lord Lannister.

"Um, brother," said Aenyx, "Do you truly want to 'walk' all this way there?"

Daeron turned to him, "As a king, I shall not coy to walk upon the streets my people walk," he said as he moved past them to the gates. Everyone followed him as the gates opened for the king. In the great crowd of people, Aenyx could see Valter, Ser Selvy, Aerys, Lord Lannister, and in short, all people of note that he had met to this day; all walking to the Sept of Baelor.

 

[Tenart]

"Long Live King Daeron!" chorused a group of peasants as they gathered near the sideways, eager to touch Daeron but were stopped by his guards, though not so harshly. Daeron smiled at their remarks, though not feeling overjoyed. He had heard them plenty from commoner and noble alike when he was the Prince of Dragonstone. So oft a farmer would pray him a blessing for saving his barren farm from the tax collectors, and many times a lower lord like the ones from House Sunglass and House Bar Emmon would shower him with gold because he had Aegon (father, Daeron reminded,) retreated from seizing their titles. Now that I think about it, I spent more years of my life fixing Father's misdeeds than training with my swords.

Daeron squinty looked over the party of his followers; he saw the sullen Lord Celtigar ambling in a corner, wearing his usual silver mantle; Lord Royce with his bronze eye, which Daeron did not like to look at, and his heir, the beamed young Alwin, exited from attending a king's coronation. A little farther from them, he located his queen and his youngest son, Maekar, with their hands entwisted; his heir, Baelor, with his sworn knight, Ser Gwayne, while talking with Daeron's sister, Myra. He could see neither Aenyx nor Aerys, for he put them farthest from him, behind all else, as a punishment.

Daeron spotted missed figures, Rhaegel and Gwenys, both uncomfortable to come out of the palace, Shiera and Brynden, still too young to attend, where was Aegor none knew, and Daemon; Well, Daeron presumed he was busy, or mayhaps spending time with his mother. But deep down, he knew his brother was angry about the betrothal, Or perhaps jealous of the crown I will put upon my head? The thought hit Daeron for a moment before he pushed it away.

His group was walking for some time by now, a little away Sept of Baelor. He could hear murmurs and guesses about what crown he would wear, not that there were colourful options. Daeron was half-hearted to choose betwixt Aegon III's one and Jaeherys' little gold band, but ultimately, he decided to wear his father's, even though he despised the ugly thing. This way, maybe the remaining suspicions about my parenthood would fade away.

"Minute of your time, your grace?" asked Lord Lannister as he patted his back.

"Of course," answered Daeron as he let Lord Lannister stand beside him, "What is on your mind, my lord?"

Lord Lannister leaned closer, "You know about a certain deal with Lord Celtigar? I'll give you a hint: the one that smells like the bottom of the flea bottom."

"What of it, my lord?" said Daeron, too hoarse.

"What of it?" said Lord Lannister angrily, "It's as if I fuck a turtle then let him eat my shit; in this case, I'm both!"

Daeron felt uncomfortable at the vulgar language, "The deal is an interest to both parties; I don't understand where you find yourself."

"The part where your grace is giving influence to the lord of an isle smaller than my balls while ignoring your foremost lords; This is not the way of kings!" said Lord Lannister before correcting himself, "Oh, but it was, now that I remember it. Your grace, can't you feel the resemblance you have shown to another mighty king?"

Daeron took no offence at that comment, even though he should've, "As you see clearly, I am not following my father's footsteps."

"No, you're not, but... Celtigar?" Lord Lannister jerked at his name, "Why would you marry Princess Daena to that piece of crabs?"

Daeron, blank and at a loss of words, stared at the lion lord. He couldn't possibly share his suspicion of Daemon with his vassals; otherwise he would as well hand over the crown to Baelor and leave the Red Keep for Castle Black.

"Lord Lannister," Daeron heard the voice of Lord Royce as he appeared next to him, "I'm afraid I shall cut your talk with his grace; please get back on counting candies, my lord."

Lord Lannister snorted, "Oswin Royce, the new Unwin Peake, I see," he tsked, "I did not expect a moving tongue for yours, your grace, but I guess it's pretty hilarious, wouldn't you agree?"

Daeron was about to respond, but Lord Royce interrupted him, "I believe this is enough, my lord; please retreat to your spot far from his grace."

Lord Lannister ground his teeth, "I don't know if you can understand me over the sound of your lot of arse-lickers, your grace, but I will not overlook this betrothal," he warned, "If this marriage consummated, and the slender shite-fingers got a princess for himself; then you should consider feeding crabs to your subjects," he said as he left the two.

Unfortunately, his threat was not one of stupidity. Daeron had forewarned his father of the marriage between Lord Lannister and Bethany Tyrell and how that would endanger the crown's authority. He suggested to betroth Baelor to the Tyrell maid, but his father had refused the idea instantly and even attended the wedding and gave them his blessings. Thanks to father, the Lannister gold and the Tyrell fare, entwisted, were waiting impatiently to embargo the capital. As the crown prince, Daeron tried to negotiate a deal with Lord Baratheon to counteract the Lannister-Tyrell alliance, but alas, his attempts led to nought. Although Daeron wondered why would Lord Lannister take such offence at a betrothal?

Daeron did not turn to Lord Royce, for he did not want to look at him, "My lord, I wonder what made you bold enough to interrupt your king?"

"The same boldness that Lord Lannister possess, your grace," answered Lord Royce sharply.

"And from where does it arise? Where was that boldness when Rhaenyra called for aid?"

"May I bite my tongue if I'm offending you, but the truth is, this is the legacy of your father," said Lord Royce somberly, "'Bad kings sire bad lords', never have been that phrase truer than here, describing your father's tenure."

Daeron could agree with that. Why would Lord Tully quit his adultery when his king is known for virility? Why would Lord Lannister watch his tongue when King Aegon let him speak freely? These lords developed their courage from the disastrous reign of Aegon IV; of course, they don't like to lose it with a new king ascending. They want their liberty irrevocable.

"If my father left this world with over-confident vassals, untrue in their hearts, then I shall have them loyal and leal as they were in the times of the Conciliator."

"A noble cause, your grace," praised Lord Royce, "But one I could see failing."

Daeron raised an eyebrow and almost turned to him, "What do you mean, my lord?"

"You inherited a shaken pyramid of a broken hegemony, your grace..."

"I am aware of that, my lord. What is your point?"

"The mired government of your father must change," he admitted, "No more Hightowers and Butterwells, only the men worthy of their name."

Daeron nearly huffed at that. So you want a position, not so humble and content after all. "I was going for a... redecorating of our loony bin of a small council. You, my lord, must have found yourself suitable to council me whom should I choose."

"I may have had a considered candidate," said Lord Royce puzzledly.

Let us play puzzles then, "May I ask you who this candidate would be?" said Daeron with a faint smile.

"A man, hardened from the valleys of misfortune he's been through, of a house ancient and renowned, a man who knows the pain of desiring another for your father," he answered.

His smile fell as his face sterned; Daeron finally turned to the lord beside him, "My lord," he wondered to bring up which topic first, that all rumours of Clovis Royce were true, or how he dared to presume his king's relations with his father? "I'd express my understanding with your candidate; however, I shall rejoice if he wouldn't take commentaries on the relations with my father."

"He shall not, then," said Lord Royce, "He's all obliged to his king's will."

"He sure is," agreed Daeron, "I shall consider him for my small council only if he performs dutifully."

"He will." confirmed the bronze eye. The silence fell betwixt the two till Lord Royce spoke again, "Your grace, I have heard the news of the arrival of Prince Lotaryon."

It was supposed to remain secretive, but alas, Aenyx dwelt in-between and ruined it, thought Daeron. "You've heard correctly, my lord, and if I'm not mistaken, you have something against it."

"You have summoned him to negotiate a betrothal with Princess Daenerys," he accused.

"That's the only conclusion when come think of it."

"Your grace, you cannot do this!" warned Lord Royce, "Two marriages with Dorne in one generation? The lords are already furious for the bride you're giving to Lord Celtigar; with this marriage, they would even go so far as to revolt!"

Daeron thought deeply about Lord Royce's words. Indeed another marriage to Dorne was a gamble, but one Daeron intended to take. Of course, he's already increasing his chance of winning by marrying Princess Daena to Lord Celtigar, thus keeping an eye on Daemon. Even if lords rebelled at some point, they wouldn't have Daemon's public support as his mother is a hostage to Daeron.

"Let them, then. Long have my family aspired to rule over the Rohynar; this is my chance to make that dream come true. I cannot lose it because of the displeasure of some lords," said Daeron arbitrarily, "If the lords rebelled, they would face an at least neutral Daemon, for I have already taken his mother as an unofficial hostage."

"What if Princess Daena passed away?" asked Lord Royce challengingly.

"I'm sure the marriage would bore fruit and result in a child. That child will be the key to our peace."

"What if they settled for another of your brothers?"

Daeron snorted, "Settle for who? Aegor? or mayhaps Brynden? None of them is as distinguished as Daemon."

Lord Royce's face sobered, "You truly want this match, your grace?" he asked gloomily.

"Yes."

"Then, your grace, I implore you to choose your small council in the feast tonight," said Lord Royce, "We could benefit greatly if some of the lords at least are satisfied."

Daeron could agree with that. Surprisingly, he found himself on agreeable terms with Lord Royce. Perchance, he could perform as his hand of the king? "We could also announce the betrothal tonight?"

"No, do that in the feast for the marriage; this way, we could already have Prince Daemon in our hands," suggested Lord Royce.

Our hands? Lord Royce already thinks himself my hand. "Yes, that's crucially better. My lord, I gather you will keep my plans to yourself?"

"None shall know of this till you've spoken it yourself, your grace."

I hope he lives up to his word, for it could become a disaster if an official voice leak this away. The lord could speculate all they want, but they will never get any support if they do not have evidence. I should warm Prince Lotaryon to only dwell in the Red Keep; The accident with Aenyx has already raised suspicions about the heir to Dorne and a royal brother of the king and their businesses in a brothel.

I could make up a reason for Prince Lotaryon's visit. Hmm, it's been a long time since Baelor and Myriah visited Dorne.

Sounds came from a gate district as the appearance of a group of riders became clear. Daeron saw the raised emblems of the silver trout; House Tully, he reflected. Lord Tully has graced us with his presence at last, though I wished it was Lord Tyrell instead. He was not fond of the trout lord, or any fornicators in general, starting with his father.

Amongst the riders, Daeron spotted Lord Tully's features, his big blue eyes, their gaze not so sweet, his long forehead and his skinny chin. He reached Daeron still on his horse, "Your grace," he creepily smiled and dismounted, "My congrats, or condolences, I wonder?" he laughed at his jape, "Though I wager for many its the former."

Daeron kept his face stern, "Lord Tully, I welcome you to King's Landing."

Lord Tully looked over Daeron to his followers, "Did you and your whole household come to greet me? how touching."

"Actually," said Lord Royce, "We were walking to the Sept of Baelor to coronate King Daeron."

"Yes, I know, I'm invited after all, unlike you, Lord..." he looked to Lord Royce's sigil, "Royce? How far goes the bronze of Runestone from his little town?"

"I'm here as Lord Arryn's representative."

"Good for you," Lord Tully turned to Daeron, "May I join your holy ceremony, your grace?"

"By all means, my lord, please go ahead," answered Daeron with bitterness, though none noticed that.

Lord Tully turned to one of his men, "Lord Bracken, you are to lead the party to the Red Keep."

"At once, my lord," Lord Bracken beckoned for his men to follow. Although, with the number of people present, it made some time before the Tully party could completely move away to Red Keep.

Lord Tully joined them as Daeron with his fellow walkers resumed their walk. He found a place in the back, far from Daeron's eyesight, not that he desired to see more of the trout lord. His manner of talking to his overlord made Daeron dislike him more than he already did. When did these lords find this amount of courage to backtalk and insult their king? Did this happen solely because of my father? No, that cannot be; this transition arrived after years of declining authority; Aenys, Viserys and father all are responsible, Daeron reflected, And it's up to me to the right their wrong, Again.

---

Aenyx was having the worst time of his life; the amount of humiliation he had to endure because of the stupidity of his nephew was unbearable. He should have been with Lord Lannister, discussing how the marriage would go, but instead, he has to walk behind everyone else, with Aerys as his company. What was the point of this walking anyway? Why bother to walk on the shithole they call a street when you can ride with horses?

"This is fantastic," said his horrible nephew, who now was a part of their pact. Though I Didn't know, I had one, mused Aenyx. Still, he could use Aerys to get information on Daeron, probably.

He turned to him, "How?"

"Within an hour, I, the favourite son of King Daeron, was punished," he explained.

Aenyx huffed, "Favourite? Pah. No father would make their bookish son their Favourite."

Valter laughed from behind, "I'm inclined to agree, my prince; I was a studious youngling, for that, my lord father did not like me very much as he liked his goaty, and I was his only son."

"You have any sisters, Lord Mooton?" asked Aerys.

"Not so, my prince. My lady mother always birthed stillborn babes; so she did 'fore she left my lord father to travel to Ol' Valyria."

Aerys' eyes went wide, "Your lady mother's an adventurer, I gather?"

"Nay, my prince, she couldn't even lift her own late when she left. I always imagined she wanted to prove my lord father she was more than a bedridden frail lady."

"Just to clarify," said Aenyx, "This was before she returned to you with a new face or after?"

"After, my prince."

"'Returned with a new face'? What's that about?" asked Aerys confusedly.

"Oh, well, you see, my prince..." Valter went about his delusions to Aerys, and Aenyx left them as he turned to see the crowd.

A group of people with emblems of a Silver Fish passed through them; therefore, the party stopped the walking before resuming shortly afterwards. Aenyx could recognise neither the fishy men nor most of his fellow walkers, but he could see the creepy Celtigar in a corner. Bizarrely, none of the people intended to come near him, neither did he try to communicate; he turned his head away from Celtigar to another side, just to lay his eyes on anyone but him. He still was afraid of the grim lord, and after the encounter they had in the throne room just a day ago, Aenyx was now scared that the crab lord would end him just as he did his poor wife. As he turned, he saw Lord Lannister, bald as he was, with his golden cape.

An eerie looking man came near the lion lord, "Ninnyhammer," he greeted.

"Fat-ass," Lord Lannister retorted before cracking in laughter and embracing the man.

"I see you're still calling me a fat-ass despite your... corpulent situation," the man pointed to Lord Lannister's belly.

"Well, I eat, and I prick, on you, I might add."

"Fair enough," said the man, "Oh, how's that sone of yours? What was it, Tyrion?"

"Ah, Raymond, he's still a failure. Been a squire for four years now, and not been knighted yet, and won't ever. But my dear lady wife just birthed another son, we named him Damon, and I say he's truly a wild one, commanding everyone, here and there," said Lord Lannister, "How's your brood?"

"Well, I don't have children; only two bastards and I fucking hate them," the two started laughing again.

Aenyx turned to Ser Selvy, "Ser, who's that man?"

Ser Selvy studied the man, "That would be..."

"Lord Tully!" yelped Valter. Aenyx frowned; why is Lord Lannister this friendly with the man who deflowered his daughter? Although, before he could think for long, Valter turned to him, "Come, my prince, come to meet the man who tutored me."

Aerys seemed to hear that, for he decided to tag along; the three reached Lord Tully.

Lord Lannister turned to the Targaryen princes, "Oh, look, not only Laena Silvers but also Laena Silvers!"

Lord Tully chuckled, "You know these silver buds?"

"Unfortunately."

"I wouldn't call it unfortunate, my lord," said Aenyx, "What better to know a charming prince personally?"

"And what's the name of this charming prince?" asked Lord Tully.

Aenyx, to use the situation to his own best, put up his most charming smirk and held his head high confidently, "Prince Aenyx Targaryen, son of King Aegon..."

"Not interested anymore," interrupted Lord Tully as he turned to Aerys, "And you?"

"Prince Aerys, my lord, son of King Daeron," Aerys answered hesitantly.

Lord Tully snorted, "So, an ordinary bastard and an ordinary spare, not impressive."

Aenyx growled in frustration, "You cannot talk to your prince like that!"

"I think you have the wrong idea of what a prince is," mocked Lord Tully, "For my ears have yet to hear and my eyes yet to see of a place in the world where they call their bastards princes," he looked up to see Valter, and smiled, "And if it isn't Valter Mooton, what was the last time you've had the pleasure to accompany me? Seven years ago?"

"Lord Tully," greeted Valter excitedly, "It was three years ago, my lord; remember when I brought you a band of reavers?"

"Ah, yes, the first Reaver's melee, the most joyous day of my life."

Lord Lannister laughed, "The best way to wallop that whoreson's Ironborns, let them kill each other!"

Aenyx turned to Lord Lannister, and his thoughts returned, "My lord of Lannister, correct me if I'm wrong but weren't you thirsting for Lord Tully's blood just minutes earlier?"

The two lords sterned. Lord Lannister turned to Aenyx, "I still want to shove a sword into Tully's ear, so wants he, but fighting amidst a crowd of thousands, and whilst the king is on his way to put a shiny thing upon his mighty head, not so wise eh, wise-ass?"

Aenyx stared at him, eyes widened, and his mind longing for a retort. A part of him suspected the lion lord's answer to be nothing more than foul lies, and part of him could understand his reasoning. Therefore, stuck in a dilemma, as an attempt to forgo the talk and retreat from the scene, Aenyx turned to Ser Selvy, "What was it, kind ser, you called for me? I'll be there at once," he said as he departed from Lord Lannister and Lord Tully, and they, strangely, did not follow him.

"What is it, my prince?" asked Ser Selvy when Aenyx neared him.

"Well, I was curious, how much more walking than we reach the Sept of Baelor?"

Ser Selvy gazed in the headed direction, "Not far, my prince. I can easily spot the seven marble towers of the sept."

"Oof, finally. This walk was starting to best me, I'm afraid."

Worry raised in Ser Selvy, "I know not if that's something to put aside so easily, my prince; a boy of your age should not be exhausted simply by a walk."

"I may be a young one, kind ser, but I'm an old sponge inside," said Aenyx.

"Uncle Aenyx!" said Aerys as he walked to the two.

"Done with talking with the big lords?"

"Well, you left, nay, fled the conversation like a coward, so I had to step in and take command," retorted Aerys, "But now, Lord Mooton is entertaining them, so I thought you could use my company. Oh, and Lord Lannister is furious that you 'dingoed your way into your arse,' according to him."

"Oh, perfect, my list of adversaries is growing," Aenyx put the problem aside as he did not care what Lord Lannister thought of him.

As Ser Selvy predicted, the Great Sept of Baelor appeared before them. A bell loudly rang, and the walk stopped. Aenyx rushed through the men to see what was happening; when he reached the first line, he spotted Daeron climbing a long stairway onto the entrance, where a man wearing a crown of crystal and gold awaited him.

Daeron bowed slightly to the skinny church guy. The priest turned to the audience, "My lords and ladies. Hearken me in this holy day, befitted by the seven-who-are-one to crown a king!" he turned to the cathedral, "Hither inside and take place as our lord protector readies himself to shown again with his regal. Thenceforth, he shall be crowned king and to those who say otherwise; May your envies turn to leal," he cried as he ventured inside; Daeron beckoned all to follow.

The scene of various people climbing stairs in unison was a unique one. Whereas everyone was taking their turns to be the first in climbing, Aenyx, with feet too short, only could clamber the long stairs. Upon the top, he rejoined with Aerys and Ser Selvy. Valter, however, was nowhere to be seen.

The trio entered a great hall with seven pillars, including a statue of a deity, probably. People were gathering around those statues to pray, and as far as Aenyx's eye could see, there was no sight of neither Daeron nor that church guy.

"My prince, would you allow me to pay my prayers?" asked Ser Selvy.

"Fine, you can go," said Aenyx as he turned to the closes of the statues to him.

The statue, made of a black-coloured stone, was a hooded man with a skull in hand. The god of death or something like that, Aenyx mused. He smiled at how isolated this god was, compared to other spots full of people praying, tartuffe and zealot alike. For example, Lord Celtigar was obviously faking his devotion to the statue of a bearded man; he probably believed in some ancient vampire cult; Lord Royce, on the other hand, was solemn when he lighted a candle to the statue of a man with a sword. Ser Selvy was very passionate in his faithfulness, for he nearly cried at the figure of an innocent-looking girl.

"An apt way to show the emptiness of death, wouldn't you agree, my prince?" said a voice of a thick accent, too familiar to Aenyx as he recognised the voice instantly.

"Prince Lotaryon," he greeted as he turned to the Dornish prince, "I must say, quite a surprise to see you here after our little adventure of yestereen." And after you let us be thrown into the streets earlier today, he left this part unsaid.

"You don't see me a man of faith?" he asked with great shock, which Aenyx thought of it more like japing, "How holly you find yourself, then, my prince?"

"Holier-than-thou, at least," said Aenyx quietly. Too quiet for him to hear.

"What was that?" asked Lotaryon.

"Nothing, nothing," Aenyx turned to the statue, "I wonder, why would a prince of Dorne, who spent his night in a brothel, prey to the god of death?"

"The stranger," corrected Lotaryon, "represents the void, the vacant place on our schedule that none bothers to think about, yet, they all fear it through their bones. But, when you think about it, you realise that the stranger is the kindest of the gods."

Aenyx looked around the forsaken area of the stranger, "Either he's not good at showing emotions, or your definition of kindness differs from everyone, my prince."

Lotaryon chuckled, "They do not see it, too busy to cry over the father and prey for beautiful women to the maid," he tsked, "Like beating the wind, futile and quite farcical if you ask me," he heartily laughed, his red eyes shone with delight, "Neither the father nor the maid cares how much people beseech them, they will keep to themselves as if they never been real..."

"As if they do not exist?" suggested Aenyx per his experience with god.

But Lotaryon gave him no mind as he continued, "...And on the day of death, it's not the sweet kiss of the maid or the assuring voice of the father that welcomes the dead, but the hoarse voice of the stranger as he leads them to the seven hells. He's the truer of all these co-deities, for he is not part of the seven-who-are-one, but rather, the seven are him."

Aenyx's eyes widened, and his thought biased. The reaction made Lotaryon laugh softly, "I apologise, my prince. I forgot you were but a mere child."

But Aenyx did not answer; he was deep in thought, "These ideas, Prince Lotaryon, they are dangerous ones, heretical, I dare say."

"Blasphemous, a septon would call it," he retorted, "But I care not for a crooked septon. Their order has long been corrupt inside, even barely hiding it now. Seldom I have met faithful men, good men, who spent their nights humbly in a sept and served as they should."

"Then why are you here, in the most prestigious site of these 'septons'?" Aenyx was far past the point to question the weird titles; he did not care anymore, in a way.

"Why, the coronation, of course."

Aenyx frowned; Well, that was an obvious answer to an obvious question, he mused. "Then, why didn't I see you amongst the walkers?"

"Ah, the little parade, I saw it from afar when I departed the brothel; when I joined King Daeron, the parade was at its end."

"You talked with Dae-I mean, King Daeron?"

"Aplenty, on the matters too sensitive to tell you. His grace is a gregarious one," answered Lotaryon playfully.

Aenyx wanted to ask about these secretive matters but soon put the idea aside. Instead, he decided to change the topic, "My prince, there's a matter; this morning in the brothel..."

Lotaryon interrupted him, "The judgment was fair."

Aenyx frowned, "How is it fair when you allow a bunch of whores to throw out a prince of the realm to the streets along with his three companions?!" he raised his voice slightly.

The albino prince was not impressed with Aenyx's wrath, "Needless to remind that 'twas one of your companions who brutally murdered a girl for she wanted to please him."

"Then why did you take the armour from my sworn shield?"

"I allow them to seize the armour due to the payment that none of you three could afford."

"Well, I demanded it back, now!"

Lotaryon chuckled, "Then why are you here, entreating me? I did not take the armour; the brothel did."

"Oh, truly? So you mean you have no connections to that specific brothel, one that its owner was one inch from licking you up to your eyes, one that I failed to see asking you for payment," accused Aenyx, "I even go as far to say you own that brothel!"

Lotaryon leaned closer, "What are you going to do about it? You're an earlobe in their eyes," he pointed to the nobles, "You're just there, living, or shall I say, parasitising, your way through life. I have that armour, and you have to deal with it."

Aenyx was taken aback by his outburst. He found himself losing the conversation, so wordlessly, he left Lotaryon and made his way to Aerys, who was reading a book by a corner.

His nephew noticed Aenyx's speedily walking as he turned to him, "Ah, uncle, I wondered where you've gone, although the thought soon replaced as I found these beautiful illustrations."

"Hello there, nephew!" said Aenyx nervously while trying to undermine his anger, "Can I steal you for a moment?" he looked around and saw a door leading to a room in a corner, so he pulled Aerys there.

The room was smaller than the main hall but still a large one. Two windows covered most of the wall, a desk with shiny things upon it and a library as grand as one of the shelves of books back in the palace.

"Did we have to invite ourselves into a room, clearly high septon's, just for a talk, uncle?" asked Aerys.

"I met Prince Lotaryon; he has talked with Daeron."

Aerys frowned, "And...?"

"They talked about a secretive matter, something far too sensitive for any other than them to hear."

His mouth opened, though he did not speak; Aerys was brooding. Aenyx found the scene very funny, "Look at your stupid face; let's put things in your mouth."

Aerys paid him no mind. His eyes widened as if he realised something, "Father wants to marry off Aunt Daenerys to him!"

"Who's Daenerys again?" asked Aenyx in confusion.

"Seven Hells- your sister!" Aerys raised his voice.

"Don't you talk to me like that, you useless brat!" threatened Aenyx as his anger raised again, "YOU should've told me about this aeons ago!" And I would've used this on that knobhead albino sooner than later!

"I wanted to tell you, but you see..." he tried to explain calmly.

"Sod Off! you had no idea this was to happen."

"I had an idea, uncle..."

"You know what, Aerys, I don't know if I want you as part of my pact anymore," said Aenyx.

Aerys was upset, "So, you're saying, just because I'm not as close to father as you thought I was, you're throwing me away?"

"What I'm saying, you fucking ape, is that your waste of breath," said Aenyx, "I've thought to sinisterly use you to get back on Daeron, but you proved useless in just ten minutes!" he nearly yelped.

Aerys seemed hurt by Aenyx's words, "Well, you're not that great either, uncle. You are a chaotic child of smallfolk. You're not great to be around at all. I don't like you, uncle."

Aenyx snorted, "Really? I think you do. I think you're a little sweet on me, nephew. That's why you're so bothered!"

Before Aerys could retort, the door opened, and the church gut-high septon- ventured inside. He took a few steps before realising the presence of the two.

He studied them thoroughly, "A pair of silver? In my youth, that meant royalty; alas, I cannot say the same now," he deeply sighed, "Who are you, my children? Are you a foe, or are you a friend?"

"We're royal princes, your holiness," said Aenyx.

"You have to be more specific, child, for they call the bastards, princes and princesses, too," said the high septon.

Well, he clearly doesn't like bastards, reflected Aenyx. He bowed deeply, "My name is Prince..." think, think, one of Daeron's children, "Aerys Targaryen, trueborn son of son-to-be King Daeron."

Aerys looked at him angrily before turning to the high septon, "And I'm Prince Rhaegel, also a trueborn."

High Septon smiled brightly, "Oh, and what would you children need from me?"

"Oh, we were only ever curious to know when your holiness would crown our... father?" asked Aenyx.

High Septon laughed as he made his way to his desk and pulled something like a drink out of it, "Soon, my princes, very soon. I only need to drink one shot of this Arbor wine, for I feel dizzy today."

"Oh? How very sad," said Aenyx as he put his hand on High Septon's shoulder, "But, your holiness, I don't believe one shot would regain you from your dizziness."

"And how would you know that, my child?" he asked worriedly.

"Well, let's just say my dear brother here is a high functioning drinker, right Rhaegel?"

Aerys ground his teeth, "Indeed, I am."

High Septon's eyes widened, "Oh, my child, I think I shall attend to your problem as soon as possible!"

"Yes, but for now, let us drink; your holiness," said Aenyx as he poured his glass.

"Well, mayhaps two shots would help me," said the high septon as he accepted the glass, albeit reluctantly.

"Indeed, only two shots."

---

Once Daeron felt ready, he gestured for a septon to open the door. He felt the weight of his long cape as the hall of the gods appeared before him. When he ventured inside the sept, the high septon led him to a room where the septons made him look more 'holier', and once High Septon was ready, they would reveal the king in his most devoted figure.

Now was the time; Daeron saw two sets of people on the left and right gazing at him, almost as if marriage was happening and Daeron was the bride.

As Daeron took steps, he recognised the faces of the people. On the left side, he saw Lord Lannister, along with Lord Tully and Lord Mooton; On the right, he saw Lord Celtigar nodding in acceptance while Lord Royce bowed deeply. As he neared the first line, he saw the royal family. His wife, Myriah, sweetly smiling. He saw two of his sons grinning, his sisters curtseying. But, two figures were remiss, he could see neither Aerys nor Aenyx, but now he had no idea where they were.

He looked at the high septon, his face was redder than before, and he seemed to suppress his hiccuping. He's drunk, Daeron concluded.

"Bow before me, child," ordered the high septon as per tradition. Daeron fell on one knee. "May the father grant you great libido," Daeron frowned at that; he was unsure to whether cut through or let it slip, "May the smith grant you fidelity and May the warrior grant you an Iron fist," he continued as he beckoned for someone, "With this crown that I will put upon your head, henceforth you are King Daeron, the second of his name, king of the andals, the royhnar, and first man; lord protector of the realm."

The high septon put something on Daeron's head, but he did not feel the weight of his father's crown; instead, he felt his head still bare, "Arise! your grace, arise!"

Daeron arose and turned to his back only to see shocked faces. He saw his son, Maekar, suppressing a laugh; while Lord Royce widened his eyes. He turned to his sides where he saw Aenyx and Aerys standing in a corner, with Aenyx beaming and raising his eyebrows and Aerys hiding awkwardly.

Daeron put his hand upon his head to feel his crown, but his hand only touched his hair and a slender band. He touched the band to feel the gold but only felt flowers and vines. Then he understood that he was wearing Baelor's crown.

He secretly looked at Aenyx and scowled at him. Then, he began to walk to get out of the hall.

"LONG LIVE KING DAERON!" cried Baelor. Soon all followed him and chanted the same.

Long may I reign, thought Daeron as he exited the hall.

 

[Tenart]

A banquet was held in a hall as broad as Aegon's black dread, both in width and length and height. A night of merriment, to be filled with randan and revelry, for the coronation of a new king. And what a coronation it had been, mused Daeron, deep in brooding, A drunk septon, a rotted crown, and a little tart of a prince thinking himself clever. His coronation, an event that should have established his identity as a king, Something to forepassed the likes of his forebearers (Especially his father's), now shall pass down on the histories as a mummer's show. To say he was frustrated was an understatement. I've tried to bond Aenyx enough; it is time to take stern measures before he drags my court into chaos. Daeron considered his options, Aenyx's free will to do as he desired was derived from his pride; therefore, if he could humble him through belittling, his willful brother would alter himself into a better-fitted prince.

Daeron noticed a cup-bearer approaching, pouring wine for his Martell kin. He shyly took a golden cup, made solely for the king to drink, and offered it to Daeron.

"Many thanks, Aenyx," said Daeron politely as he took the cup.

"Whatever," muttered Aenyx annoyedly.

"What was that?" he asked sharply.

Aenyx's eyes sparkled with fear as he slightly bowed, "Nothing, your grace, nothing."

"Good," said Daeron as he slowly and regally lifted from his seat, gaining the room's attention. He leaned closer to Aenyx, and in his ear, he whispered, "Be glad I'm only enforcing respect in you, brother; for if you have done this to another king, he would have you thonged. Now, as you and Aerys found yourselves clever jesters, I have appointed the two of you as my fools for a year, and your first performance shall be the forthcoming wedding. Also, remember to join your friends at the table abut the great door, a table even lower than the low lords, specifically for you."

Aenyx bemoaned with annoyance as he disappeared into the crowd. Daeron gestured for the party to resume as he slowly sat and went on brooding again. Never would he torment a child for playfulness, but what he had seen in Aenyx was not playfulness, nor was it willfulness, for whereas his smile beamed with pleasure earlier in the sept, his eyes shone with despair. His brother needed help, and help he shall have.

"Daeron," called his wife, Myriah, "You seem distressed. Are you brooding?"

Daeron turned to her, "Brooding? nay, I'm thinking."

Myriah raised an eyebrow, "On what?"

He looked over his guests on a table where the lords were seated. He thought on Lord Royce's earlier words, to choose his small council tonight and only amongst these present lords, most of them as competent as bugs in farming. Myriah's advice would be a welcoming help, as her words always are, "Tell me, could you see Lord Royce as the hand of the king?"

Myriah pondered, "Their kind is as honour-seeking as their estranged cousins in the north; would he let go of that and bend his morals for his king's sake?"

"I would say he's long past on the honour obsession; his father's deeds and all," retorted Daeron.

"Do you believe in that tale?" she asked.

"He confirmed it; earlier on our walk," Daeron felt sordid for revealing Lord Royce's secret, though he knew his wife wasn't of the kind to spread it further.

Myriah chuckled, "Look at that, two lords lamenting on their absent fathers; you truly magnate your kind, your grace," she teased.

"Didn't answer the question."

"Hmm, I don't know him, by person, but if his loyalties are only to his king, then sure," she reasoned as she sniped his wine and jerked at it, "Ugh, Arbor? Why it's Arbor every time?!"

"Haven't you heard, sister dear? Northerners all tend to be sweethearts," Prince Lotaryon joined their conversation.

"Is that supposed to be a poor pun, Loty?" asked Myriah in amusement.

Daeron decided not to dwell anymore. As he made up his mind, he raised, "My lords and ladies, if I can occupy one minute of your time," he drew the attention, "I call for Lord Oswin Royce to come forth."

From a corner of the room, Lord Royce onward came to the centre of the room and bowed, "Your grace."

"My lord, you rode for a sennight from Runestone to here with us in King's Landing as your liege lord's representative, and I shall say you made quite an impression," Lord Royce chuckled at that, "Not even a night here, and you made your king consider you for a guerdon. My lord, I appoint you as my hand of the king, should you accept it."

Gasps and murmurs filled the hall as Lord Royce fell on one knee, "Your grace, you honour me greatly. I shall accept your call."

"I am honoured to have your council, my lord," said Daeron, "You shall have your brooch tomorrow at our first small council."

He nodded as he made his way back to his seat; the crowd applauded him with cheers and claps.

I pray to the father that this choice won't turn its back to me, thought Daeron as he sat. He turned to his right a straight line of four empty chairs, one for Baelor, most likely wandering in the hall, though where he abides, Daeron did not know; one for Maekar, who was sitting in Myriah's lap, one for Aerys, exiled to the low tables with Aenyx, and one for Rhaegel. Daeron contemplated on his thirdborn son; at the mare age of seven, he was showing the same symptoms Gwenys had, according to the maester at Raventree Hall, whence she and her siblings resided. Disquiet, afeared of the crowd, and ever-illness. Oft, he has seen Rhaegel fainting unconsciously or screaming amid the night. They said he was mad, the same thing to Gwenys, and perchance, Aenyx is mad as them, also.

Daeron wondered if Aenyx's disrelish of him that evolves into ensuring disorder has anything to do with being a bastard? Perhaps Aenyx ever wanted to know his father, only to be shut down? And that now has grown into a hatred of the brother who knew their father. I wish he knew how much I want to change my place with him; I would always welcome living a life as a bastard in a village against living as the son of a whoremonger.

"That's it," said Myriah as she looked at him with a faked anger, "I'm putting a stop to your brooding, husband. Bards!" she shouted at the musicians, "Play something for goodness' sake, whyever did I paid you for?" The musicians started playing as thus. Daeron recognised the holy tune after a few seconds; Maiden, Mother, and Crone. Aenyx doomed my reign evermore.

Daeron could only feel blithe when a certain silver-haired princess came forth and, out of seemingly a preconceived plan by his wife, shyly offered her hand, "Would you dance with me, brother?"

"Of course, Daenerys," he said as he kindly accepted her hand.

They went forward to the centre and started to dance as the pairs slowly gathered around the two; If he was, to be honest, he felt as if they were the only dancers, for the crowd mostly amassed against the two other than dancing with their partners.

Daeron saw it fit to bring up the betrothal, "How do you find Prince Lotaryon, Dany?"

Daenerys stared at him with confusion, "I know not what should I think of him, Daeron," she softly replied.

At her reply, Daeron realised he was binding the fate of his little sister to a man at least twice her age (Which made him wonder why his good brother wasn't married as of yet.) Never in his inner thoughts did he consider his sister and how would she fare in a realm far from her home. There, an idea formed in his mind, he could bring a Dornish flavour to the court, easing the sudden change of culture once Daenerys was to wed Prince Lotaryon; To do that, our prince shall firstly agree with my proposal.

Daeron changed the topic, "My crown looks majestic, wouldn't you agree?"

Daenerys giggled, "It's King Baelor's crown, isn't it?"

"A rotted version of it."

"Then why wouldn't you take it off?"

Daeron chuckled, "I cannot, not on the first night of my reign. But I will wear another crown once I can."

"What crown will you wear then?" she asked curiously.

"Aegon III's, of little weight and forthright in showing who the wearer is." Also, every usage of symbolism I wanted to have with father's crown is ruined by wearing Baelor's flowers; Daeron left this part unsaid.

"Now that I imagine you wearing it, it suits you," commented Daenerys kindly.

"Thank you, Daenerys; I appreciate that."

As they continued to dance, Daeron noticed his castellan was asking for an audience with him; he ordered the music to stop as he beckoned the man.

"Your grace, the party of Lord Tyrell has arrived."

Daeron raised an eyebrow, "Send them in."

A few minutes later, sounds of boots arose as the doors opened, and the Tyrell men appeared, and they were many, more than any of the lords' parties as if Lord Tyrell had brought all of his cousins with him. Speaking of the devil, Daeron mused as he saw Lord Leo 'Longthorn', the knight errant of the Reach and the gallant lord of the maidens' heart. His face was clean shaved, except for a moustache, and his hair was long and wide. His sword in sheath tied to his green tunic, though the greenish clothing does not end there as he was wearing a glaucous jerkin.

"Lo!" cried Lord Tyrell boisterously, "Behold, my lords and ladies, and your graces, of course, the might of the Reach!", He was referring to a large number of gifts that were emerged simultaneously with his speech.

Daeron went forward to greet him, "Lord Tyrell, I welcome you to the Red Keep."

"King Daeron," Lord Tyrell bowed. He took a glance at Daeron's crown and suppressed a chuckle, "I apologise that we failed to attend your coronation. I wholeheartedly laud you for ascending to the throne and wish you a long reign," he turned to the gifts, "As a token of our giving, we brought souvenirs, of every keep in the Reach, my sworn lords sent their local exotics that appeals to your liking, your grace."

Daeron stared at the large portion of the gifts, "I... thank you, my lord, but you didn't have to..."

"Oh, look at that," interrupted Lord Lannister, his eyes blazed with despise, as he approached the two, "My long tower of shite of a good brother," he greeted Lord Tyrell.

"Tyler!" cheered Lord Tyrell as he went to embrace Lord Lannister, but he didn't allow it. "How is Bethany doing?"

"She's doing fine, that is so until I tell her you've arrived," Lord Lannister retorted.

The hatred Lord Lannister and his wife held for Lord Tyrell was a well-known one; it goes so far that it is said he loathes his son, Lord Raymond, for bearing a resemblance to Lord Tyrell. To ease the tension, Daeron called for her wife, "Lord Tyrell, can I introduce to you, my wife?"

Lord Tyrell faked a smile as she approached. "Your... grace," he struggled to say her title. There, Daeron wondered if he had made a mistake.

"Lord Tyrell, pleasure meeting you," said Myriah as she curtsied.

"Likewise," Lord Tyrell bowed loosely and turned to Daeron, "I wonder, where do dwell others of your kinsfolk, your grace?"

Daeron raised an eyebrow. Lord Tyrell would have seen the many heads of the dragon as he marched into the hall. And there are many heads he could have seen. Was he referring to a specific silver-haired prince or a dark-haired one? Daeron pondered. "If I was to guess, my lord," he finally answered, "I would say lurking betwixt us. I beg you pardon for my unbeknownst, for as I age up, keeping count becomes more demanding of my mind."

Lord Tyrell chuckled lightly, "Do not say such things, your grace. Your ageing is yet to reach the likes of mine and my good brother, also."

Lord Lannister huffed, "Don't assume me to one of your leagues, dimwit; I may be old by your preference, but I still hold my shit very efficiently."

Daeron felt uncomfortable with having Lord Lannister as a company. It was earlier this day when the lion lord threatened the royal authority, and yet, he stood only a little away from Daeron, insulting his brother by marriage. Myriah must have sensed that as she cuddled his shoulder, "My lords," she caught their attention, "Would you mind if we dance as we were? For I, yet, to have my husband dance with me like a king he is."

"Well, I will take my leaves then," said Lord Lannister as he returned to his seat.

"Dancing?" said Lord Tyrell, filled with delight, "How extraordinary that I have brought the best of the rhymists and rhymesters of the Reach with me!"

Daeron smiled faintly, "We shall have a great time with these rhymesters, my lord."

"Yes, you should," he retorted, "For I have commissioned them to write a ballad, an epic song, just for you, your grace."

"A song?" said Daeron more cautiously than not. Could this be an act of sycophancy? "I never expected to have a song about me, not while my nuncle Aemon existed."

"Don't undermine yourself, your grace. Please, listen to this song; I believe you shall find it beautifully written," pleaded Lord Tyrell as he beckoned for his band of singers to take their place.

Soon, dancers gathered again, this time with a greenish flavour, as the bards tuned their instruments and Daeron prepared himself to hear his song.

---

And raised above, Daeron, king of kings,
The true heir of his namesake.
While his birth father false saw him,
And the seed the boy had take.

Now let it be for all us known,
The second of his name.
Now sits upon a mighty throne,
To mend the realm aflame.

Aenyx had never felt more humiliated than he was now, hearing the singers sing in praise of the monster his brother was. First, he made him pour wine for all the high on horse lords and then made him sit by the door with his band of carrots. But that was nothing compared to becoming the court jester for a year! Aenyx mused. How dare he? I made that joke to unleash my anger at that nimrod Lotaryon. It was an innocent act of joking, and he dared to make me his fool.

Aenyx saw Ser Selvy drinking his ale in silence, Aerys frowning with hands crossed, and Valter humming with the song. "I gather you're enjoying yourself, Valter?" said Aenyx sarcastically.

"Very much so, my prince. The song is one of the epics!"

"It does help that 'tis written for my father," said Aerys proudly.

"The same father that has put you here, a table by the doors?" asked Aenyx.

"A result of you luring me into your petty plans, uncle. By the way, did you truly think that we get out of this safe and sound?"

Aenyx sighed in annoyance, "Everything went as I expected, except that he caught us."

"I must say, my prince, I'm utterly shocked that you would do something like this," Ser Selvy broke his silence at last.

"Oh, come off of it, kind ser," said Aenyx, "It's not as if we destroyed Daeron; he did that to us, I might add."

"How did he do that, exactly?" questioned Aerys.

"Breaking a child's heart," Aenyx faced with Aerys' doubtful face, "A veracious account."

"I didn't feel heartbroken."

"Well, disagree to agree, I suppose; a dithering tied."

"I still don't know how you're heartbroken?" said Aerys.

Aenyx raised from his seat, "This cup-bearing was an embarrassing moment for me;" he grinned, "but one fixable."

"How you're going to do that, my prince?" asked Valter.

"Simply, Valter: By dancing!"

"I fail to see how that would work out," challenged Aerys.

Aenyx sipped his drink, "Well, you see, dear nephew; what better way to communicate with people than spending time with them?"

"I believe they are synonyms, my prince," said Valter.

"No, they're not," said Aenyx, "Now, if I could find a lady worthy of dancing, I could show these bird-brained lords that I am a true prince of the realm, and some of those might find me the best for their lady girls."

"My prince, I think you're becoming obsessed with Lady Lannister, which I find very disturbing," said Ser Selvy worriedly.

"Obsessed?" said Aenyx, "How can I be obsessed with someone I have not seen?"

"Mayhaps you're obsessed with the idea of her?" said Aerys.

"Shut up," retorted Aenyx as he looked over the hall to find a suitable lady as a dance partner. He found himself staring at a young brunet, maybe a little older than him, sitting by herself, waiting for a dashing lord to ask her for a dance. "Who's she, Ser Selvy?" he briskly asked.

Aerys answered instead, "The lady girl you've been searching for."

Aenyx pondered, "Yes, she does resemble a girl; she will do. I will go to her."

"Let me accompany you, uncle," said Aerys as he grabbed his hand.

Aenyx jerked his hand back instantly, "No way, people might think we're friends."

"But think of it this way, I will deliver her a romantic message from you and thus beguiled her for when you come in and ask her for dance."

Aenyx stared at his nephew in silence and then snorted, "That's the stupidest, most idiotic, and completely plausible idea you've ever had, Aerys," he said as he sat again, "Now, what message should we write?"

Aerys pulled out a pair of quill and parchment from his coat's pocket, "A short note, precisely to express your honourable intentions, uncle.'

"What about this," said Valter, "'Hello sweety dear, if this letter has found its way to you, your luck's in! Tarry for my young heart no more, accept the honour to dance with me, and I shall make you my beloved trollop'?"

"P.S. woof woof woof," suggested Aerys, "Well, what do you think, uncle?"

Aenyx sighed heavily, "Very touching, dear pedants. Although, would you mind if I change just one tiny aspect of it?"

"What aspect?" asked Aerys.

"The words."

Aerys looked at the parchment, "Of course, uncle, say as your will, and I shall write it."

Aenyx pondered, "Something...poetic, Something to wake an ardent passion in her..."

"Got it!" said Aerys as he put the quill aside. "This is my finest work as of yet."

"How many works you've had till this, my prince?" asked Ser Selvy.

"None, to be honest."

"Meh, it doesn't matter," said Aenyx as he raised, "Now, this is the plan: You will go to her and read the letter while I hide nearby you; when you read it, I pop out and surprise her."

"Brilliant, I will go to her at once," said Aerys as he made his way to the girl. Aenyx followed him silently and stopped where he could hear and see the two, whereas they could not.

She smiled as Aerys neared him, "Ah, Aerys, delightful to see you."

"Greetings to you also, Princess Myra," said Aerys, "I brought you a letter."

"Oh? Can I have it?" Myra asked.

"I'm afraid not, my lady, for I'm to read it for you," Aerys cleared his throat, "From his grace, Prince Aenyx Targaryen to Princess Myra Targaryen: 'Upon my heart, sits a key, a place only for you to be.' Fanciful stuff, of course, dear aunt, I assure you, it's written from the bottom of his heart."

"A key, in the heart no less?" she chuckled, "How very bizarre, I thought hearts were these little teeny weeny places made for lovebirds to rest; I don't know if I can handle the chirps of birds in that tiny place."

Aerys stared at her for a long time before taking a deep breath, "He continues: 'Oh, my ladylove, dance with me on this moonlit night, for I'm stunned at your sight.' As you see, Prince Aenyx is truly a boy of passion."

"Oh, that's very clear. But, there's an unsettling matter: I've heard the prince has the manners of a donkey-brained cow; what would you say to that?" questioned Myra.

"That's simply a lie, lady auntie. His grace is shy and pretends to be bratty, dimwitted and unbelievably whiny and gittish, whilst deep down, he's as sweet as a little lemon cake creature," answered Aerys with the utmost solemnity.

Myra snorted, "We can wordplay and list sweet things as much as we like, Aerys, but you and I both know Aenyx is like a poorly shaved monkey who wears a wig of silver and puts satin clothes on. I would never engage in any activity, including dance, with him."

Aenyx frowned as he stepped out of his hiding zone and faced the two. "Why the hell you wouldn't? I've written a love letter, and nothing is as romantic as a love letter—or so I've told."

"Good evening to you too, brother," retorted Myra, "Good to see you after your short cup-bearing career. That was truly the lowest we ever sank, and we're supposed to be bastards."

"Wow," said Aenyx as he faked sobbing, "How cruel can a sister to his brother be?"

"Oh, come off of it," Myra saw right through the faking, "It is not as if I had cut your genitals and put them in a tree at the Riverlands, and believe me, many siblings do that; with happy smiles."

Aenyx ground his teeth loudly, "Dance with me," he ordered.

Myra shook her head, "No, I won't."

"Why?" he asked desperately.

"Because I'm already reserved."

"To whom?" asked Aenyx.

Myra pointed her finger to one of the dancers, a boy with dark hair and dark eyes, who was dancing with one of Aenyx's sisters, Daenerys most likely. Aenyx remembered the boy's face; it was Daeron's son, Baelor or Something like that.

Aenyx laughed wickedly, "What a deviant auntie you are, sister dear, jumping in bed with your nephew."

Myra's face went still, "Well. Nephew Baelor doesn't have a nice ring to it; compared to beloved Bael."

"Certainly," he agreed, "If you don't mind me prying..."

"I very much do," Myra interrupted.

"Well, I'm gonna pry anyway," said Aenyx, "What does your beloved Bael call you when in the secret trysts in the garden yard? 'My harlot' perhaps?"

Myra's face went red with anger as she stood and slapped Aenyx, "How dare you?"

Suddenly, as if the ambience had shifted, a figure came rushing toward them. When Aenyx recovered from the slap, he saw it was Baelor. As soon as he appeared, Myra started sobbing. Oh, you twice-bastard, thought Aenyx.

He took her hand, "Myra? What is it?"

Myra pointed to Aenyx, "He... He called me, Oh, gods." She was now crying.

Baelor turned to Aerys, "Aerys, what has happened here?"

"Well... I wouldn't know what happened in detail, but I"m sure Uncle Aenyx does," he said as he made his way back to his table.

Baelor, frustrated in his demeanour, turned towards Aenyx, "Uncle," he greeted wholesomely, "I rue that we had to have our first conversation under these circumstances, but you have to tell me what you have said to Myra."

Aenyx considered his options: from what he had seen, Baelor was obviously seduced by Myra, though he couldn't see how because his sister was as ugly as a frog on a rainy day. Now, he could tell the truth and get shamed by one of Daeron's children. His soul roams amongst his awful kids. Or, he could flee from the scene, which he chose to do.

Aenyx faked crying as he slowly bent down and lay down on the floor, cuddling himself. He loudly cried until he remembered why he had come here in the first place, to attract the lords on his prestige. So he moaned to them, "This doesn't represent me, though," he said in the middle of his sobs, "This isn't me; I'm far better." Other than the sound of his sobbing, the room was quiet. Aenyx could tell all the eyes were on him as he made a scene. He looked up to see Baelor looking at him astonishingly while Myra had embraced him from the back.

A few seconds passed, and Aenyx felt his plan failing; instead of pitiful eyes, he saw amused and confused ones. So, he got up and rushed to some point. He swiftly scurried his way to a balcony.

Once there, Aenyx rested his hands on the balcony's baluster as he sobbed softly to himself. This time, his tears were real. He felt anger building up in him as he tried to push away his embarrassment. Though, is it embarrassment? His inner voice asked. Aenyx reflected on his thoughts, and he understood he was not embarrassed. Men are embarrassed who have done wrong, who thought themselves falsely, and that was not Aenyx. Despite the vile backlash he received, he knew he always was and had been right. Now, he wanted to return there and show them his superiority.

But, as he turned, he faced a white figure coming his way. Is Daeron perhaps coming to shame me? He mused. However, as he looked at the white figure, he saw a pair of red eyes shining. Oh, god, it's that wibble Lotaryon. He smiled, "Oh, look, the man with a child in his eyes," he greeted him.

Lotaryon looked up to see him and grinned, "Prince Aenyx—hic," he hiccuped.

He's clearly drunk, thought Aenyx. "I see you've been enjoying yourself, my prince."

"Am I that obvious?" he asked.

Aenyx faked a sympathetically smile, "Not at all, I just luckily guessed."

"Good then. These Arbors are truly grand, don't tell Myriah, though."

"I wouldn't dream of it," retorted Aenyx.

Lotaryon put his bottle on the baluster, "So, how are you faring, my prince?" he managed to say between his drunkness.

Aenyx sighed deeply, "Well, I was bad till you appeared; now I'm worse."

"Whatever made you feel bad initially, my prince?" he asked in concern.

Aenyx frowned in confusion, "You didn't see the scene?"

"What scene?" said Lotaroyon bemusedly.

Oh, nothing, just the humiliation of me; I wouldn't tell you, of course. Aenyx felt amusement in the prince's ignorance, so he continued, "Oh, my prince, how can I ever word it?" he bemoaned aggrievedly,

"You don't need to if it's..."

Aenyx interrupted him, "You should've seen how those cruel monsters embosomed me to belittle my feelings! Oh, the emotions! the hurt!"

"Oh, that sounds awful. If I can do anything to make you feel better, my prince, please tell."

Aenyx stared at him in astonishment. His mind soon shifted to the infamous armour of Ser Selvy; a sinisterly idea hit him, one with chances higher than a fly flying into his mouth. It was as if an eldritch being was setting everything for him, a drunkard fool, a tool for possible blackmail (The betrothal), and all Aenyx had to utter words out of his mouth. He felt desperate to do this, take this opportunity, to have a win! I need one win, just one win tonight, he thought.

Aenyx thus smiled wickedly, "Pray tell, my prince," he said, "I believe congratulations are in order, are they not?"

"On what, might I ask?" said Lotaryon.

"Why, your betrothal to my dear sister, of course. I would've bitten you for handing on my sister, but then I'm not a mad man, am I?"

Lotaryon seemed stuck at the first part of the sentence as he pondered lengthly. "Hic—I did not know King Daeron had entrusted you with this secret, my prince."

Aenyx shrugged, "Well, what can I say? We two are like bread and butter, inseparable."

Lotaryon looked at him abstractedly, as if he had not heard his words at all. "I beg you to let this remain a secret," he said while looking to see if anyone had heard anything, "King Daeron wants this to remain as so," he whispered.

Aenyx nodded solemnly, "Of course, I'm aware of his grace's policy on this; however, I fear I might spit this out once I've gotten drunken with my companions."

"I can recall revealing secrets I shouldn't have whilst I was drunk—hic," he remarked grimly, "There must be some way to prevent you from leaking this."

"I think there is," said Aenyx as he moved his gaze from the prince to the moon, "Tell me, my prince, if I wear an oversised armour, could I talk conveniently?"

Lotaryon fell for Aenyx's scheme, "Of course not, it would cover your mouth."

Aenyx bombinated, "Hmm, so help me here, my friend; If I had an armour that covered my mouth, I couldn't drink ale that resulted in leaking out your betrothal, right?"

Lotaryon's eyes widened as if he had discovered a phenomenon, "We should get you an armour!"

"Exactly."

"Then, I will buy you one at once in the morrow. You shall have an armour of the size of a mammoth!" He vowed.

"There's no need to buy one," said Aenyx, "I already know of an armour big enough for my size."

"Oh? Where is it?"

Aenyx leaned closer to him, "In a certain brothel by a purple door and flowers, a certain blue-coloured armour oversized for me."

Lotaryon frowned as the realisation hit him, "I cannot return you the armour, my prince."

Aenyx grimaced initially but then resumed his smiling facade, "Then I suppose I could have a drink with Lord Lannister to see his thoughts on this marriage," he declared as he started to walk away.

"There's no need to do that, my prince," said Lotaryon, "Come to the city's harbour, will you? I'll go to the brothel and get the armour, then meet you there."

Why the harbour of all places? Aenyx pondered. He wasn't sure if it was a merit idea to let the prince venture to the brothel all by himself. But it was useless to further argue with him, so he turned to him, "Then, I believe you shall take your leaves, my prince. I will meet you at the harbour."

Lotaryon then flew the scene at once while Aenyx slowly returned to the hall. He went straightly to his table and found only two people sitting at it. "Where is Valter?" he asked.

"Somewhere, I imagine," said Aerys.

"Eh, it doesn't matter," Aenyx turned to Ser Selvy, "Ser, ready your sword—we're going to get your armour back."

-

Dull and numb, mused Daenerys; That's all she had felt throughout this evening; First, her brother had revealed a possible betrothal, and then another of her brothers had raised a scandal by calling Myra a 'harlot' according to her. Though, this little brother of hers has already made many other scandals simply by handing over the high septon the wrong crown or unintentionally leading the death of Lord Celtigar's son and sleeping in a brothel with the prince of Dorne. The same prince Daeron thinks worthy for her.

The thought of marriage haunted her as she imagined a life with the red-eyed prince of Dorne as his princess. She was afraid of life with despise and despair, and she feared having that life with Prince Lotaryon.

Overwhelmed with thoughts, she left the hall through its great doors; the first thing she faced was the courtyard and that she was standing on a veranda decorated with flowers specially made for Daeron's coronation. It was attached to the great hall through a set of railing wooden roofs and had encompassed the entire facade. On the other side of the courtyard, she could see the throne room, the council chamber and the kitchens. The last one was drastically active as the maids and servants entered and exited with plats and drinks.

Daenerys rested her head on one of the white columns as she gazed at the moon. Tonight, the sky was clear, and a full moon was shining. It was a terrifying sight for many, but Daenerys thought it was beautiful. For she liked how every part of it shone with silver, well, most of it, at least. The moon was always alone, up in the sky with all but itself while stars floated around it; it was how Daenerys felt about herself. Though, tonight, the moon had a Star for company, and she wondered where hers was? If she was to choose a companion, there were few to choose from; and as she pondered, she could only think of Daemon. Yes, she wanted to make her time worth it by spending it with Daemon. Though he wasn't present in neither the coronation nor the celebration, Daenerys could guess where he was. Thus she started walking to Aunt Daena's room.

She was probably too occupied in her thoughts because she hit Something unconsciously and almost fell before a hand grabbed her.

"Oh, greetings, princess," said a voice familiar to her ears. She looked up and recognised the face of Lord Valter Mooton, Aenyx's loyal companion.

"Lord Mooton," she greeted him, "I hope you're faring well?"

"Wonderfully, my princess. Participating in his graces coronation was truly exciting and honouring."

Daenerys nodded to his words politely, "Well, I wish you the most enjoyment in the coming hours, my lord," she said as she made past him.

"My princess," She turned to him, "I apologise for my bluntness, but where are you heading?"

"I..." she struggled to find words, for she wasn't sure if she could tell Lord Mooton the truth, "I was going to my bedchamber, my lord. I'm afraid I feel dizzy tonight from the feast."

"Oh, well, let me accompany you, for the thought of leaving you to faint; bothers me much," suggested Lord Mooton.

Daenerys sighed heavily, "Very well, my lord, I thank you for your concerns."

Now, the two walked in tow between the marble columns of the veranda in silence. Shortly, they climbed down the stairs and entered the bailey. Even one floor lower than the great hall, they could still hear the sound of the music, and see the lighting of the torches. Daenerys decided to break the silence: "This evening is a beautiful night, wouldn't you agree, my lord?"

Lord Mooton looked at the moon, "I'm afraid I wouldn't know, my princess," he said casually, "I had lost my sense of aesthetics a long time ago."

Daenerys frowned in confusion, "What do you mean by that?"

He turned to her, "Well, Lord Tully always said I was a mass regarding arts, so I concluded that I was loose in the aesthetics."

"What Lord Tully says does not count as a fact, my lord," said Daenerys, "I believe if you give yourself a chance, you will find you have talents in certain areas."

"Oh, but I have found my talents already, my princess."

She raised an eyebrow, "Oh, and on what, you have found yourself talented?"

"Convening Tournaments; The Reaver's Melee specifically," he answered with a victorious smile.

Daenerys raised her eyebrows in confusion, "What's The Reaver's Melee, my lord?"

"An annual event funded by My lord father of Maidenpool on which the lords of the south-eastern Riverlands come to watch a band of Ironborn reavers slay each other," explained Lord Mooton.

Her eyes widened in shock, for she was taken aback by this revelation, "Such event truly exists?"

"Of course it does; it's been for three years now."

"And that had not angered the Ironborn lords?" asked Daenerys concernedly. She recalled the tales of the Red Kraken, Harren the Black and Harwyn Hardhand, and these were poor examples of the Ironborn bloodlust once one heard about Hagon the Heartless and Qhored the Cruel.

"Well, the first time I held a Revere's melee amongst the participants were a Farwynd, an Orkwood, oh, the champion who was a distant cousin of Harlaws. When the news of their death reached Pyke, Lord Greyjoy not only liked the idea but also encouraged it," explained Lord Mooton.

"Does he send Ironborns willingly to you to slay?"

"No, not that," he retorted, "Lord Greyjoy sends criminals to us as reavers, and we took them to the Melee."

Daenerys sighed in relief; however barbaric this was, at least it only killed criminals and not noble lords. "I hope your melee prospers even further, my lord."

"Kind of you to say that, my princess, thank you," said Lord Mooton.

The two passed the currently empty tower of the hand and moved forth to the nearest of the Maidenvault. "Is your bedchamber located in the Maidenvault?" asked Lord Mooton.

"Gods, no," Daenerys quickly answered. She couldn't fathom how to live a life in a dungeon in all but the name. "My bedchamber is in the Royal apartments, located in the Maegor's holdfast."

"Then, forward to there!" he cheerily declared as he took her hand. The two now swiftly climbed down the serpentine steps, a winding staircase headed to the lower bailey.

The lower bailey connected the white tower of the Kingsguard to the ominous Maegor's holdfast, now stood proudly before the two as they walked towards it. The holdfast separated itself from the rest of the castle with its twelve feet walls and its moat with a drawbridge spanning it.

"Halt," a voice boomed at them from the abysmal depths of the nightly shadow as the two neared the bridge, "Who comes close?" It was the voice of Ser Donell of Duskendal, a knight of the Kingsguard.

"Rest at ease, ser," assured Daenerys, "It's only me, Princess Daenerys, accompanied by Lord Valter Mooton."

Ser Donell came forth and bowed as he spoke, "Your grace, I was not expecting you to arrive. If I knew, I would've sent men to escort you."

"There was no need for that, ser," retorted Daenerys, "Lord Mooton did that finely."

Lord Mooton shook his head, "My princess, it was only my duty."

"Fine," she turned to Ser Donell, "Ser, would you kindly let us enter? I eagerly wish to sleep."

"Of course, my princess," said Ser Donell as he cleared the way for them.

Daenerys and Lord Mooton moved forward and passed the bridge as they entered the Maegor's holdfast. The dreadful castle-within-a-castle held three floors, of which the royal apartments were on the uppermost. The two climbed up a staircase to the highest floor. There they faced a long corridor.

"To your room, my princess?" asked Lord Mooton.

"To my room," she repeated, trying to sound genuine while she wanted to visit Aunt Daena.

As they walked silently, Daenerys glanced at the door of Aunt Daena's room. She could not see the lighting of any candles flashing out or hear a sound, a voice or a whisper from inside. Mayhaps she was asleep? Were Daemon asleep too beside her, or has he left his mother to someplace else?

"Who's chamber is that, my princess?" asked Lord Mooton kindly.

Daenerys swiftly turned her head, "That would be Princess Daena's room, my lord."

"Do you want to visit her grace? You seem interested and concerned about her room," he suggested.

"No, my lord," said Daenerys attempting to dissuade him. She feared waking Aunt Daena after her trying day. "I have already wasted much of your time,"

"Nonsense," said Lord Mooton as he walked to the door, "I'm sure her princess would be delightful by a visit from her... cousin's daughter."

In the end, Daenerys' tries failed as Lord Mooton pushed the door widely, and then both got awestricken by the sight they saw. A candlelit lighted faintly and only brightened a small part of the room, but that was enough for seeing a figure lying abed unconsciously, which could only be Aunt Daena. Daenerys sensed the smell of blood and soon saw a blade on her hand and understood the implications.

As her eyes widened, she rushed to her and saw her hands bleeding. She's trying to kill herself! She turned her head to her companion, "Lord Mooton, come, help me!"

"Of course, my princess," said Lord Mooton casually, "But shouldn't we cover her grace's wounds from further bleeding?"

"YES!" Daenerys agreed as she tried to look for a piece of soft fabric.

"This towel should do fine," said Lord Mooton as he put a textile from his lapel and gently bandaged Aunt Daena's wound. "Now, for further healing, we should deliver her grace to the maester."

"Can you hold her, my lord?" asked Daenerys worriedly.

Lord Mooton didn't answer; instead, he lifted Aunt Daena and put her in his hands. "Come, princess, we have no time to lose!" he said as he rushed out of the room. Daenerys followed him quickly.

-

Lord Oswin Royce was witnessing the glorious feast from his table, placed in a corridor of the grand hall. His eyes saw his son, Alvin, dancing with one of the Tyrell cousins, though his eager eyes searched for someone else, a princess, no doubt. And I thought I had thrown that thought out of his mind. His son was still over-ambitious about winning Princess Daenerys' heart and marrying her, therefore, having the royal blood connected to House Royce once again, like Rhea Royce and her prince, Daemon Targaryen. Though he oft forgets to mention the end of the bronze bitch.

Then, he saw Alvin slipping on the Tyrell girl's foot and making a scene. He heavily sighed as he sipped his wine. The sweet taste dominated the discomfiting sight as Oswin looked for Something to think and his eyes fell upon his dark grey doublet, containing everything a cloth should have but one, his badge of the hand of the king. If he was, to be honest, Oswin never predicted becoming the hand, he aspired to gain a place amongst the small council, but to be the second person of the realm? He thanked the gods that Lord Arryn took his trip because it carved his way to power.

Oswin felt homesick for Runestone and his family; his wife, Lady Rusalia Redfort, and his daughter, Ursula. When he left for King's Landing, he had considered marriage options for Ursula. She was of age, after all, a woman grown and bled. Mayhaps Lord Arryn would accept her hand in marriage with his heir, Albert, if Oswin does well in his handship and brought pride upon the Valemen.

As he pondered, his eyes fell upon a slim figure approaching. Soon enough, Oswin recognised the face of Lord Cedryc Celtigar, the master of whisperers of the new small council. And the new age, as I like to believe.

Lord Celtigar neared close and bowed his head slightly. "My lord hand," he greeted, "You asked for me." His tone was not questioning; he was merely stating a fact.

"Lord Celtigar," Oswin greeted back. "Please take a seat, my lord."

"I believe congratulations are in order for your new promotions," said Lord Celtigar as he sat.

"Ay," Oswin agreed as he took a bottle, "And congratulations are ofttimes with drinks. One, my lord?"

"I don't partake."

Oswin raised an eyebrow, "Fine." He put the bottle aside and sat still. "As you said it yourself, I have called for you."

"And I answered it as a dutiful Master of Whisperers would."

He nodded in agreement, "I thank you for that. I'll be forthright with you, my lord; I know you are an influential figure on his grace."

"The young king seeks council," said Lord Celtigar, "I provide it for him."

"And he rewards you with a princess as a bride?"

Lord Celtigar shrugged, "What can I say? Our king is generous."

"Well, his generosity has made you a face not to reckon with, my lord, and thus has made it inevitable for me to seek a coalition with you."

"A coalition? Over what, my lord hand?"

Over the reason, I had initially called for you, my lord, a dire one, at that."

"I would hardly get surprised at any dire news, lord hand. It seems to be a regularity in our recent years." Lord Celtigar deadpanned.

"Well, this particular news is related to the future years." that picked Lord Celtigar's curiosity. So Oswin continued, "It's a matter of peace and a matter of bastards." Indeed, after the discussion with King Daeron earlier this day and the revelation of the match betwixt the Prince of Dorne and Princess Daenerys, Oswin could not help but feel alarmed. Two marriages with Dorne would result in dissatisfaction of the realm lords, especially the ones in the marches and the ones who lost much during the conquest and the still poignant death of the Young Dragon. But a simple dissatisfaction was not Oswin's concern; after all, that summarised the last Aegon's reign. No, what feared Oswin was the emergence of the bastard Daemon, with his sword Blackfyre and with a band of supporters.

"What are you trying to say, my lord hand?" asked Lord Celtigar.

"King Aegon left a bunch of legitimised bastards; one of them, precisely the Blackfyre one, would sooner or later raise arms against our king."

"Good thing that I am to marry his mother," said Lord Celtigar, "Though his reaction is unpredictable, but even if he rebelled, no lord would support his cause."

"They would, with the information I have," said Oswin as he leaned closer, "His grace wants a marriage between Princess Daenerys and Prince Lotaryon."

Lord Celtigar thought for a moment, "Yes," he agreed, "That seems to be the reason for his arrival. Two marriages with Dorne is troublesome, but would that make any a lord a rebel?"

"Lord Lannister, for starters," retorted Oswin, "He was already threatening his grace over your marriage with Princess Daena; there's no guarantee that after the announcement of the betrothal, his hatred of the Dornish wouldn't result in a rebellion."

Lord Celtigar nodded in agreement, "If Lord Lannister took arms against his grace, Lord Tyrell and Lord Tully would follow him. That makes three of the great lords."

Oswin raised an eyebrow, "Lord Tully?"

"The two are great friends," informed Lord Celtigar, "Lord Medgar Tully's father, Lord Kermit, sent The young Medgar to be squired by Lord Lannister's father, Lord Loreon. The two young lords made friends of each other."

"And they kept it even after..."

"Yes," he answered coldly, "If the rumours are true, Lord Lannister sold his daughter's maidenhood in exchange for suzerainty over Gravesham."

Oswin's eyes widened in surprise and disgust. He has heard of Gravesham, the seat of House Keath, a place located in the northeast of the Westerlands and the south of the Ironman's Bay. But, by the latest of the maps, that place was still in the hold of House Tully. That doesn't make any sense. If Lord Tully weren't true to his words and had not handed over Gravesham, then there would be bitterness betwixt him and Lord Lannister, not friendship.

"But onto the matter of a future war," Lord Celtigar continued, clearly wanting to change the subject, "What do you suggest we do, lord hand?"

Oswin thought for a moment, "We should attract the great lords to support his grace; in other words, we have no choice but to satisfy them."

"Well, we have only one way to do that, and I believe you know what it is," asked Lord Celtigar, knowing the answer.

"A position in the small council, I have already suggested it to his grace."

On Lord Celtigar's lips appeared Something akin to a wicked smile, "Oh, but who's to say that his grace will heed our suggestions? we're only to council him, after all."

"What are you saying, my lord?" asked Oswin suspiciously.

"I'm only saying, Sometimes to defend a cause, one needs to sacrifice the authorities," Lord Celtigar answered casually, "Specifically for the future we aspire to build."

Oswin then understood the implications, "You want us to choose the councillors behind his grace's back?"

"Yes, lord hand, and don't play coy; you too know this is necessity for the realm."

Oswin couldn't believe what he had heard, "This is treason."

"Well, we could say that about all other things we talked about, too, lord hand," said Lord Celtigar, "Such as: 'Assuming a brother of the king, whom he loves dearly, to raise arms against and claim the throne?' If you fear treason, I kindly ask you to accompany me to his grace, where we both tried, but only you will have to atone."

Oswin frowned and wondered. What did he mean by 'only you'? Was Lord Celtigar counting on the fact that Oswin has started the talk or that the master of whisperers has more influence than Oswin has reckoned? Either way, Oswin was cornered; he had no choice but to surrender to Lord Celtigar.

"We will negotiate with the three great lords present," said Oswin.

"Two," corrected Lord Celitgar, "There is no need for Lord Tyrell, his empty of his wits anyway, might as well ask for a turnip for his thoughts."

And still, he's won a place amongst other rich turnips, Oswin mused as he asked for the presence of Lord Lannister and Lord Tully. A minute later, the two lords appeared before them; of them, the crapulous Lord Lannister had most of the bottoms of his shirt off for an unknown heat that only he felt, and the other, Lord Tully, laughed wickedly at the state of his 'friend'.

Oswin raised from his seat to regard the two higher lords on the respectability that their titles brought, never mind their worth of this respect. "Lord Lannister, Lord Tully," he greeted, "I'm delighted that you've accepted my invitation."

"Ah, Royce!" said Lord Lannister with a mocking smile that disappeared when he turned to Lord Celtigar, "And Lord Crabs, it seems."

"Please sit, my lords. We have matters to discuss."

"Fine," they answered as they took their seat. "So, what is this meeting about?" asked Lord Lannister.

"As I understand, my lord, you do not approve of my marriage to Princess Daena," stated Lord Celtigar.

"Of course, I don't," hissed Lord Lannister, "Screw you, and you're grasshopper of an isle, with this marriage bullshit."

Lord Tully continued smugly, "What is with Targaryens? They either marry themselves or when they come outside of their sister's teets, they choose another silvery whoremonger. And now this! a clawman marrying a princess!"

Fury filled Lord Celtigar's eyes at the mention of 'Clawman', but he did not speak. For Oswin decided to take the conversation, "My lords! You clearly have issues with this marriage, but all issues are to resolve. What if I say there's a solution to this?" he declared albeit reluctantly.

Lord Lannister at Lord Tully, who shrugged and said: "They seem desperate, and I love that. Let's hear them."

"Alright," said Lord Lannister with a sigh, "What did you two gerbils have come up with?"

"Something lower lords carve to have, and great lords honour it," said Lord Celtigar, "A place in his grace's small council."

Lord Lannister laughed boisterously at that; Lord Tully joined him too. Their laughter was spiteful and wicked as Lord Tully's attitude and Lord Lannister's unfortunate state. Speaking of that, Oswin looked somberly at what had befallen unto the lion of the marchers. The pride of Casterly Rock, who claimed the head of a thousand Dornishmen. The man who once was on the path to becoming a legend now, was holding his drink while laughing with the man who deflowered his daughter.

The laughter faded as Lord Tully turned to Lord Celtigar, "That's it?" he questioned amusedly, "That's your only bargain against two great lords? And I thought his grace had wit in choosing his handymen."

"Oh, that's not our end, my lord," said Lord Celtigar, "What do you think about a... marriage?"

Lord Lannister's eyes lit up, "A marriage? Who to whom?"

"You have a daughter, my lord, have you not?" asked Lord Celtigar.

His question made Lord Tully chuckle, and Lord Lannister ground his teeth. "Aye, I do. What about her?"

"There are four young princes," stated Lord Celtigar, "Which one?"

Oswin's eyes widened, and so did everyone else's. He knew there was no way back from this; he could only lower the prize so that their next queen won't be an adulteress. "Excluding Prince Baelor, of course. We cannot marry Lady Relinor to him, or else we all would lose our heads and not by his grace, but by the smallfolk."

"Fine, didn't want him really," said Lord Lannister as he looked at Lord Celtigar desperately, "Can you truly give me this marriage, Celtigar? Because bu the gods old and new, I will march on your bedchamber with the might of the west if you're spitting out nonsense."

"I'm not," said Lord Celtigar simply, "His grace's will is mine."

Lord Lannister thought for a moment, "The second one, Aerys, his name. I'll marry Relinor to him."

Lord Celtigar nodded politely, "I'm glad we could reach an agreement."

"What about me, my lords?" said Lord Tully smugly as he put his foot on the table.

Lord Celtigar turned to Oswin as if he expected him to speak up and propose Something. Oswin thought about his options: he couldn't betroth Princess Daenerys to Lord Tully; he couldn't give him a piece of land. His only option was to propose the hand of his daughter. So he gloomily turned to Lord Tully, "I have a daughter, my lord. Ursula, she's recently turned Six-and-ten and is still unwed. I would... happily give her hand to you."

Lord Tully had laughed viciously then, "You see this, Tyler? I am the most warranted bachelor of the Seven Kingdoms! I guess my wild years have indeed come to an end; it's time to marry and settle down, so yes, lord hand, I will marry this daughter of yours."

It isn't a failure, said the voice inside him, but Oswin couldn't believe it for a second. He felt ashamed, ashamed that he had wed his daughter to the embodiment of evil.

"But," he continued, "I have another condition: I want Lord Tyrell in the small council."

"Just to spite me?" asked Lord Lannister.

"Just to spite you, dear friend."

"There is a place for Lord Tyrell, too, we could have him as the master of laws," said Lord Celtigar.

"No, I want to be the master of laws," protested Lord Tully.

"Then Master of Coin?"

"I want that," said Lord Lannister.

"Well, then only remains the master of ships. A fitting place for the gallant lord of the Reach indeed."

And so it was done. Lord Lannister raised his goblet, "This eve, my lords!" he thundered, "Is another victory for Westeros! Huzzah!"

"Huzzah, indeed," said Lord Tully.

Lord Celtigar only nodded and smiled faintly, whereas Oswin leaned back to his chair, observing the scene before him. Maybe accepting his position was a mistake, after all.

-

They had walked for some time now; the three of them, Aenyx, Aerys and Ser Selvy. The harbours of King's Landing were vast and so dark. They had no idea where to find Lotaryon until they saw him and a group of his men from afar, so they rushed their way.

"I still can't believe you brought no guardsmen, uncle," Aerys expressed his concerns.

"We already have a guardsman," Aenyx pointed at Ser Selvy, "Also a manservant, in case we want to carry the armour."

"I wouldn't take such high hopes, my prince," said his knight, "What if Prince Lotaryon is only playing with us?"

"Don't worry too much; I have thought everything through. Truly, nothing can go wrong."

Now they could see Lotaryon's party in the eyesight. The prince himself was looking dead drunk while a woman was by his side. His men counted to ten, and all wore old clothes.

Concernedly, Aenyx speed up and walked toward him, "Prince Lotaryon," he greeted.

Lotaryon turned to him, eyes half-opened, "Prince Aenyx—hic—so glad you could come!"

"Well, I wouldn't miss a victory, now would I?" he asked rhetorically, "Now, where's the armour?"

"There," Lotaryon pointed at a wooden box guarded by two of his men.

The woman then whispered, "Love, aren't you forgetting something?"

"Huh?" said Lotaryon in confusion before figuring it out, "Oh, right," he turned to Aenyx, "My prince, before I give you the armour, there's a matter that we should settle."

Aenyx sighed in annoyance, "Alright, what is it?"

"Who have you brought with you?" he asked.

"My nephew, Prince Aerys and my sworn knight, Ser Selvy."

"Where's the other one?"

"Valter decided to be somewhere else," Aenyx responded.

"WHAT?!" Lotaryon roamed, "Why didn't you bring him?!"

Aenyx was taken aback by his outburst, "I don't know; why does it matter anyway?"

"The man is responsible for the murder," spoke the woman, "Prince Lotaryon only wants to give him what he deserves."

Then it became clear; the woman was one of the whores of that damned brothel. She probably has poisoned Lotaryon's mind for her benefit. Damnations!

Aerys then spoke up out of curiosity, "Care to explain this further, my prince?"

"One of Prince Aenyx's—hic—companions had turned one of the girls of a brothel into a cat."

"A cat?" asked Aerys suspiciously, "Are you sure that's not an act... of pleasure?"

Lotaryon's breaths harshened, and he clenched his hand, "Don't irritate me, my prince; I don't like what I'm feeling."

Anger filled Aenyx, but he decided to stay calm, "Now, my prince, I apologise for not bringing Valter with us, but can you please give me that armour?"

Lotaryon consulted with the woman and returned to Aenyx scowling, "No, go and come back with Lord Valter and get the armour."

Aenyx faked a smile, "Would you truly turn this beautiful act of altruism into one of the bargaining favours?"

"Yes."

Just as Aenyx was about to answer that, Aerys interrupted him, "I still don't quite understand this, Prince Lotaryon; are you implying that Lord Valter used witchcraft to turn a girl into a cat?"

Lotaryon ground his teeth, "He killed her and then sewed her to a cat!"

"That's really unlikely, my prince," argued Aerys.

Aenyx saw tiredness and fury in Lotaryon's eyes. He, so very enraged, unsheathed a small blade and pointed it threateningly, "YOU DARE!?" he shouted.

Ser Selvy was quick to counter-act as he unsheathed his sword and stood before Aerys. "Prince Lotaryon, I ask of you to stop this foolish..."

Suddenly, Lotaryon threw his blade, and then, Aenyx could only hear an abnormal rustling noise of one's throat. He turned his head to the source and saw Ser Selvy clenching at the right of his neck, flooded with blood, while slowly lying down. Aerys rushed to help him, but Aenyx could not move; he didn't know what to do.

Lotaryon turned to his men, "Boys, throw the box into the sea!" that was followed by cheers from the woman and the men as Aenyx saw bemusedly the box disappear. The box disappeared, and with it, the armour!

Aenyx stood there, staring at the spot where the box was. The armour—his armour, was gone. He fell to his knees, tears forming in his eyes as he realised once again he was defeated. And it wasn't his doing! He never wanted to taunt the damned drunkard, he didn't care about bringing Valter; he only wanted to sleep this night with a win.

"UNCLE! A hand?" said Aerys.

Aenyx turned to him and saw his nephew had part of his cloth torn and put it onto the bleeding spot to prevent further loss of blood. Aenyx rushed to him, "What to do now?"

"We must bring him to the maester."

"How?" Aenyx asked.

"By carrying," answered Aerys, "Hopefully, he can hold the cloth while we carry him."

Aenyx's eyes widened, "Are you speaking out of insanity?! We cannot carry him."

"Whyever not? He's not wearing an armour; he'd be pretty light."

"My princes..." Ser Selvy rasped before coughing blood.

"Don't talk ser; you would only endanger yourself," warned Aerys, "So, uncle?"

Aenyx realised there was no point in arguing; though he would get a severe backache from this, it was still better than losing his knight. So he went forward to help Ser Selvy.

-

Aunt Daena was sleeping mouth-opened and frowning. Her breaths were harsh, and her sight heartbreaking. It was mayhaps an hour past when Lord Mooton and Daenerys had brought her to the maester's workplace. Maester Norwin had assured her that she would recover; even then, Daenerys decided to stay, and Lord Mooton stayed too, out of courtesy.

She was surprised that Daemon had not already arrived; she felt concerned about his whereabouts, but she couldn't leave Aunt Daena, not now in these trying times. None would expect Daena the Defiant to suicide; if she was this weak-willed then she would've killed herself while in Maidenvault. It was saddening to see how the mighty have fallen, or perhaps had been forced to fall.

Suddenly, a noise emerged from outside and got louder as the door opened, "Honestly, Aerys, if you would've shut that mouth of yours, we would've returned with armour and pride. But you just had to throw out—Oh, evening, sister."

Daenerys saw Aenyx, along with her nephew, Aerys, carrying a man, who was Ser Selvy! Aenyx's sworn knight. She opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by Lord Mooton, "Prince Aenyx! Just as I was beginning to miss you!"

"Valter," he greeted casually, "Good to have you back. Where were you anyway?"

"With Princess Daenerys, my prince; we had the most joyous adventure!" Lord Mooton pointed at Aunt Daena, "We also saved Princess Daena from death."

"Er, good, I guess," said Aenyx, "Now, can you carry Ser Selvy, Valter? I'm feeling tired."

"Of course, my prince," said Lord Mooton as he quickly replaced Aenyx in holding Ser Selvy.

Maester Norwin rushed in and was baffled by the scene, "What... is happening?"

"Ah, maester," said Aenyx, "Can you please look into my sworn knight? He's injured by his neck, as you can see; also cannot speak, or else he would cough blood."

"Oh, that's severe. Come along, lay him on this bed." Maester pointed at an empty bed, "I will prepare my things in due time."

Aenyx nodded at that, "Well, now we just have to wait, right. sister?"

"Indeed," answered Daenerys as she turned to Aunt Daena's bed and quietly whispered prayings. She had companions, after all, but not ones she wanted initially.

 

[Tenart]

He felt the warmth of the sunrise falling on his skin as he slowly opened his eyes and parted his lips. His eyes wandered around the room as he quietly whispered, "Is this heaven?" his voice rasped, and he coughed.

Aenyx rolled his eyes as he witnessed Ser Selvy, "Well, he's fine," he decided to depart Maester's chamber, "Come along, Valter, we have much to do."

"Where are you going?" asked Daenerys offendedly.

"To my room, of course. Where I haven't been in since I landed in this hellhole, and to practice my clowning talents," he bitterly answered.

"Wouldn't you want to hear maester's thoughts on Ser Selvy's injuries?" asked Aerys, "It may help us should we declare this a violence to the King's peace."

Aenyx pondered, "Fine," he agreed, "MAESTER! Where the hell are you?"

As expected, the maester rushingly dashed in, with eyes widened in horror, looked around the room and saw an awake Ser Selvy. He quickly gathered himself and smiled, "Good to see you in good shape, ser. How are you feeling?"

"I feel my voice has changed," said Ser Selvy quietly and harshly.

Maester's face sobered, "I'm afraid that's the result of the injury, ser knight," he explained, "The hit has pierced through a part of your throat crucial to your vocality, thus damaging the ventilation of your voice; hence you would now speak raspingly and quietly."

Ser Selvy looked at him in disbelief, failing to find fitting words. Instead, Aerys, now fully awake, spoke, "Are you saying his wound is unhealable, maester?"

"Not only unhealable but will leave scars, young prince," said the maester, "He has to bear the line whereon the wound has pierced for rest of his life. What did cause this, might I ask?"

"A maniac and his throwing blade," said Aenyx mockingly.

"Throwing blades?" asked Daenerys in astonishment as she left Princess Daena's vigil, "Who dared to throw a blade at you?"

Aenyx smiled wickedly, "Oh, the herald of the evil himself, Prince Lotaryon."

Her eyes widened, "Where... where is he now?"

"Oh, I don't know," Aenyx shrugged, "Mayhap dead drunk in an inn? Or a brothel? he seems to enjoy the company of himself."

"We should inform Daeron of this," her eyes sparkled with excitement and horror.

"Good plan. You do that while I'll go figuring out how to be a court jester," Aenyx turned to Ser Selvy, "Kind ser, get up; I require you."

"At once, my prince," said Ser Selvy very quietly and amongst his rasping making it almost impossible to hear. He hardly lifted himself before the maester rushed to him.

"Ser, I advise against it. I'm unsure if..."

"Do shut up, maester; we're trying to have a productive day here," said Aenyx, "Ser, be quick; I'm short of time."

Ser Selvy now raised from the bed, despite the maester's warnings, and picked his sword. Aenyx turned to his nephew, "Well, your waiting for what? Get up and show me where my room is."

Aerys quickly got up, and the four exited the place. Their walk to his room was uneventful, for it was the early morning after all. They finally reached Aenyx's bedroom, and he was excited about it.

Valter opened the doors to his room, and Aenyx got thoroughly underwhelmed. His room wasn't as big as he wanted; it was only the size of a quarter half of the great hall.

Grudgingly, Aenyx moved forward to his bed and sat there. "So, what are we to do now?"

"Well, I thought you had a plan, uncle; I expected you to resist against becoming the court jesters," said Aerys surprisingly.

Aenyx snorted, "What's the point, Aerys? Whatever I do, it all leads to failure, let us do our pathetic jobs, and mayhaps then Daeron would bestow me, death."

"Interesting that you brought it up, my prince," said Valter, "For I have an idea for your upcoming performance! Let me search my bag..." he went to a corner of the room.

"You have a bag?" asked Aenyx, "How come I haven't seen it?"

"Well, my prince, you never cared to." On Valter's hands was something furry, but Aenyx couldn't make anything from it.

Valter finally displayed the furry thing and showed that it was the hallow skin of a cow's scalp. Aenyx cringed and jerked at that, and so did Aerys. But Ser Selvy restrained himself. "Is that a cow's scalp, Lord Mooton?" asked Aerys.

"Indeed it is, my prince."

"Why do you have that, Valter?" Aenyx spat with disgust and despair.

"No reason," he teased as he moved forth to Ser Selvy and tried putting the cow's skin onto his head.

"You just wanted to show that on any occasion, didn't you?" asked Aenyx rhetorically.

As Valter tried to put the skin, Ser Selvy protested, "My prince, I don't think it's appropriate..."

"Oh, come off of it, ser," said Aenyx, "Let's see how the cow suits you."

Valter pushed the cow's skin down, and it turned out fitted for Ser Selvy. It made a ridiculous scene, which everyone laughed. Though Aenyx wondered, "What was the point of this sequence, Valter?'

"This, my prince," he pointed at the cow, "Is the latest of the mummers' shows: 'Olly, the cow!' I always wanted to perform this myself, but alas, the material they use for the cow's custom was scarce in our land, so I creatively cut off a cow's head, emptied its organs and stuffed it with fur. Hence, this masterpiece now lay on Ser Selvy's head."

Aenyx liked the idea, "Not bad, Valter. As a reward, take a short holiday." two seconds passed in silence, "Did you enjoy it?"

"Of course, my prince," said Valter.

"Good, now, nephew," Aenyx turned to Aerys, "What have you come up with?"

Aerys looked at him with widened eyes, "Well... bearing the thought that you wouldn't take this humiliation so easily, uncle..."

"Heard enough," said Aenyx as he heavily sighed, "Do we know when the wedding will be?"

"In a sennight or so," Aerys answered.

Aenyx nodded solemnly, "Well, this is it then: the cow of the town and whatever I'll come up with."

"Seems rather fine to me, my prince," said Valter.

"Yes," Aenyx agreed, "It's only 'rather' fine."

---

Oswin was the first to arrive, or he thought so as he opened the doors to the Small Council chamber and faced the master of whisperers sitting by the corner. "Lord Royce," he greeted him.

"Lord Celtigar," he greeted in response, "I gather you had a pleasant morning?"

"I did, my lord. Same for you, I hope?"

"Quite," Oswin responded as he took his seat beside the one for the king. "I would've said I'm surprised that none other has come, but our fellow councillors are not known for their competence," this was a cruel mockery of the men the two chose to forge the reign of King Daeron for him.

And it seemed Lord Celtigar understood its meaning. "Alas, few lord paramounts are, my lord."

"Even your own lord paramount?"

"Neither my forefathers nor I had an overlord, my lord hand," said Lord Celtigar, unfazed and emotionlessly, "Although, if you meant to count the time King Daeron spent as the Prince of Dragonstone as lord paramount, then I rephrase my words. Prince Daeron ruled justly then and would rule justly now."

As Oswin was about to answer, a figure entered the room. It was Lord Tyrell, marching inwards. "Greetings, my lords! How are you faring today?"

Oswin raised an eyebrow in curiosity, "Lord Tyrell. I expected you'd be the last to arrive, given your randan yestreen." He was referring to the drinking contest Lord Tyrell sat up with Lord Lannister, in which the latter, already over-drunk, angrily tried to beat the former, who enjoyed it as a game.

Lord Tyrell smiled in response, "Oh, but you see, my lord hand, I am accustomed to randans like these. After all, with Lord Lannister as a good brother, one might never find himself sober," He said as he took his place.

"I can imagine," said Oswin with a kind smile. And as he said that, the silence occurred. He glanced back at Lord Celtigar, sitting casually and watching the sequence. As much as he hated to admit it, Oswin felt uncomfortable with the quietness, as if he was desperately trying to keep the talk with Lord Tyrell to keep the room from falling to silence.

Hopefully for him, and also, unfortunately, the silence soon died down. For suddenly emerged two men, one Lord Lannister, filthy and hideous, and one Lord Tully, viciously smiling at his friend's despair.

"Morning, brother," said Lord Tyrell.

"Don't call me that, you..." Lord Lannister started his insults but fell to gibberish instead.

Lord Tully laughed heartily, "How glorious, a golden lion, soaked as a stray cat."

"One might want to keep his metaphors to himself, my lord," said Lord Celtigar, "For as much as a lion could get soaked, a trout could get grilled."

All eyes turned to him at his remark. Lord Lannister, in particular, voiced his amazement, "Seven fucking hells! Didn't see you at all, Celtigar."

"I'm inclined to more listen than talk, Lord Lannister," he raised from his seat, "As much as it astounds me, I shall say, I'm glad of your presence. And not just yours, but Lord Tully's and Lord Tyrell's. For, my lords, I would be bored to death if we don't start the council sooner."

Oswin raised an eyebrow, "What are you talking about, Lord Celtigar? We cannot start the council before the king arrives, and even then, we still need the grand maester here."

"Pah! piss on that," Lord Lannister exclaimed, "I'd say we order ales and then sleep."

"I agree with neither of you, my lords," said Lord Tully, "I suggest we crush upon a mummer's show."

"Hearken me, my lords!" called Lord Celtigar as he put his hand upon the king's chair, "We are the small council. We are responsible for this realm's living days; the king rules as we administrate his rulership. Isn't it fitting if we do our work even if the king does not desire to partake?"

"His grace did not say if he would forsake us to our own, Lord Celtigar," Oswin protested.

"No, but neither ever said King Aegon IV and II; the former never participated in the meetings, and the latter did lesser than the number of his name," Lord Celtigar retorted.

"That doesn't mean King Daeron..."

"Oh, come off of it, lord hand," said Lord Tully, "It is not as if his grace wouldn't appreciate it. I reckon he would love more sleeping hours."

"I'd agree to that," said Lord Lannister grumpily.

"Then let us reach that, my lords," said Lord Celtigar, "Let us start the first small council meeting of his grace's reign even without him."

"If it means it'd end sooner," Lord Lannister voiced his support.

"Whyever not?" said Lord Tully.

"As you say, Lord Celtigar," said Lord Tyrell.

Lord Celtigar turned to Oswin and smirked slightly before taking his seat. Oswin had no choice but to accept the majority's decision, so he raised from his chair. "So be it. I suppose, first and foremost, we shall congratulate Lords Tully, Tyrell and Lannister who raised upon these seats because of their utmost competence."

"A pleasure, lord hand," said Lord Tully.

Oswin nodded at that and then resumed his talk, "Unto the issues at hand, I think we first must have an accurate account on King Aegon IV's reign on different..."

Suddenly, the doors opened and stepped in King Daeron, wearing the crown of King Aegon III, and by his side, the queen? Behind them also was the grand maester. Oswin, already standing, bowed slightly, whereas his fellow lords raised, their eyes filled with astonishment and, in some cases, hatred. King Daeron wasn't spared with wonderment, too, although it arose from different reasons.

"My lords," he greeted, "There are two conclusions I could infer from this sight: first, Lord Royce was only standing because his chair has thorns, or second, you have started the meeting without me."

Oswin cleared his throat, "Your grace, if you would take a seat, then I would explain the situation," he suddenly remembered the queen, "I gather her grace will also join us?"

"She will," said Queen Myriah.

There weren't enough chairs for her grace as the grand maester took his seat. "I will forfeit my chair, then," Oswin voiced his thoughts as he pulled the chair for the queen to sit next to the king. He himself stood beside them.

"Right then," said King Daeron, wanting to leave the conflict before, "First order of business is for you to clarify what positions Lords Tyrell, Lannister, and Tully have in this small council."

"I am the master of laws, your grace," said Lord Tully confidentially.

"Lord Celtigar promised me the master of ships, your grace," Lord Tyrell announced.

"Master of coin," said Lord Lannister.

King Daeron nodded, seemingly pleased with his small council, "As I can see, there is still a member amiss."

"We lack a lord commander, your grace," said the grand maester, "And a seventh knight."

The king seemed already to have a nomination in mind but asked anyway, "Any suggestions, my lords?"

Lord Tully was first to speak, "My loyal bannerman, Lord Bracken, has a spare son, Edmyn, is his name. A fine warrior and even finer fool. A worthy knight of honour."

Lord Lannister viciously laughed, "A Bracken? might as well say to the Blackwoods to fuck off."

"I'd agree with Lord Lannister; there is already enough homage of House Bracken with Prince Aegor in King's Landing," said Oswin, "Likewise with the Blackwoods."

The grand maester turned to the king, "Your grace, your father promised the white cloak to Ser Quentyn Ball. You might want to honour it."

Queen Myriah frowned at the mention of Ser Quentyn, her eyes filled with concern. "A Reachman? You would appoint a reachman as a kingsguard?"

"Are we to be misliked, your grace?" Lord Tyrell asked the queen.

"Do you not agree that there is enough of your kin dwelling in the king's halls, Lord Tyrell?" Queen Myriah retorted regarding the amount of Tyrell cousins.

"Now that you've mentioned it, my queen," said Lord Tyrell as he turned to the king, "Your grace, have I ever told of my daughter, Arcella?"

An awkwardness took the room as King Daeron spoke, "Back to the argument, my lords. I believe it's best to have Ser Quentyn as the kingsguard, any objections?"

"Your grace," Lord Celtigar finally broke his silence, "Ser Quentyn, though very admirable at his prowess and the years spent to train your half-brother, Daemon," he hissed his name, "Is not high in birth enough to wear the white cloak. And as you know, a man base-born wouldn't have the honour of the high-born."

"Who do you propose, then, Lord Celtigar?"

"The newest sword of the morning, your grace, Ser Nithan Dayne." Queen Myriah's eyes sparkled with delight, expressing her sudden support.

On the other hand, other councillors began voicing their opposition. Oswin, too, decided to oppose, mainly because he felt Lord Celtigar was trying to lead the room into his interest. "Your grace, you shall honour the promise of a king. I'm sure Ser Quentyn would be loyal to you and your children after."

"I'm on this with Lord Royce, your grace. You shall not act dishonourably." surprisingly, the voice of Lord Tully uttered those words.

Lord Celtigar now fixated his gaze on King Daeron as he spoke, "I believe his grace has made his choice, my lords, a wise choice at that, isn't it, my king?"

A flesh passed in the king's eyes as he nodded rapidly, "Indeed, Ser Dayne shall wear the white cloak, and I think he would also do well as the Lord Commander."

A second passed in silence as Oswin tried to process what just had happened. Was this pre-staged by Lord Celtigar and the king? But then, why not inform the rest of us? He was puzzled by the sudden agreement betwixt the two but didn't find the time to ponder as the king spoke again.

"Now, unto another matter, my lords, is the upcoming royal wedding," said King Daeron as he turned to Lords Lannister and Tully, "I gather you still have your disagreements, my lords?"

"No, your grace, there's no disagreement left," said Lord Tully.

"Yeah, everything worked out fine," Lord Lannister added.

The king raised an eyebrow, "And why is that? If I remember correctly, you threatened to raise arms against this marriage, Lord Lannister."

"Well, you ought to thank Lord Celtigar, your grace. He gave us a deal we couldn't refuse."

"Oh? And what deal was it?"

"A marriage alliance, sire," said Lord Celtigar, "Between Prince Aerys and Lady Relinor Lannister."

The king and the queen's eyes widened as they turned to Lord Celtigar. Queen Myriah was first to speak, "Can you explain this, Lord Celtigar?" If Oswin was, to be honest, the queen's words were underwhelming, given the famous Dornish temper. Then it struck him: Lord Celtigar had previously suggested Ser Dayne so that he could get on the good side of the queen. But it still didn't explain the sudden support of the king.

"The situation called for sacrifices, your grace," Lord Celtigar answered the queen, "I merely chose the one with the least loses."

"But, my lord," said the king, "Lady Relinor, although I'm sure worthy of being a lady, is not a maiden."

"She's a maid in spirit, your grace," said Lord Lannister.

"I'm sure Lord Tully could vouch for that," Queen Myriah snapped.

Oswin again stepped in, "Your grace, there have been other cases of a... deflowered lady marrying a lord. One could say this about Queen Alyssa and her marriage with Lord Rogar Baratheon."

The king thought for a moment, "Fine. But this marriage will take place when my son is of age. There is no rush to that after all."

"Agreed," said Lord Lannister.

The king raised from his seat, and with his, the queen. "Well, my lords, I believe we have reached the end of our small council..."

"Actually, your grace, there's a matter I wanted to talk about," said the grand maester.

"Pray tell, maester."

"Well..." he struggled to find words, "Last night, sire, Princess Daenerys and Lord Mooton found Princess Daena in the blink of death. Apparently, her grace had committed suicide."

"Suicide?" the king's face paled at the revelation, "Whyever for?" he asked, but Oswin suspected he already knew the answer.

"She's not conscious, your grace, but if I had to guess..."

"Don't say it, maester," said Lord Celtigar, "We all know why."

"Anything else happened, grand maester?" Oswin asked.

"Yes, indeed, my lord hand. Shortly after they arrived with Princess Daena, Prince Aenyx with Prince Aerys stumbled upon my solar, carrying Prince Aenyx's injured sworn knight."

"There was a clash?" Oswin asked instead of King Daeron, who was now again in shock.

"I'm afraid, yes. And the opponent in this clash is also known."

"Who was it?" the king firmly asked.

Grand Maester hesitated to answer as he looked to the queen and then back to the king, "Prince Lotaryon, sire."

The room fell into silence. Everyone was shocked, but some, like Lord Celtigar, better hid their astonishment. And some were fuelled with rage, like Lord Lannister, who pounded on the table, "I knew it! I knew that fucking sandman would do something this!" he roared.

King Daeron quickly recovered from the shock, "Lord Lannister, I invite you to be quiet; this is the small council chamber, not the war room."

"Your grace, I must take sides with my brother," said Lord Tyrell, "This is an insult to the loyal family and the Westeros itself. Prince Lotaryon should atone for this."

"And he will, my lord," the king assured him, "But in due time. Now, I suggest you all rest as I go and visit Princess Daena." the king raised, and the queen followed. "Farewell, my lords," the king said as they left the room. The grand maester idly followed them, too.

Oswin could feel the exhaustion in himself and his fellow lords. There was a lot of news to process; he should now trigger the princes to get over the damage done by Prince Lotaryon. Mayhaps he could bribe them with some lemon cakes, even though the thought of bribing children disturbed him. Another idea hit him: no need to bribe them when he could influence them through his son. Indeed, he could send Alvin to them and hit two birds with one stone.

His eyes fell on Lord Celtigar, who was reading a document. The accident earlier on left Oswin bemused and cautious. It seemed the master of the whisperers was more ominous than he expected, and if Oswin thought correct, then there is more to him and his relations to the king.

"Milord," a voice called, though not for him. Oswin turned to the source and found a child at the door. He had a particular shade of gold, unlike any he had ever seen, and his face was as pale as the white gowns of the brides.

"Took you long enough," said Lord Tully as he beckoned the boy and then slapped him, "Where's your manners, Tristifer, wouldn't you greet your grandsire?" he wickedly smiled at his son's discomfort.

Tristifer Rivers, bastard son of Lord Medgar Tully and Lady Relinor Lannister, turned to his lord grandfather and bowed, "Greetings, milord."

Lord Lannister waved him off and turned away, "Yeah, yeah, just get out of my sight."

The boy then turned back to his father, "Milord, we've had arranged your bath and polished your armour."

"Ah, great!" Lord Tully raised from his seat, "Well, my lords, I'm delighted to leave you in your misery for a bath, a drink and preferably, a wench is waiting for me." As he and his son were about to leave, he pinched Tristifer's ear, "Not so fast, Tristifer, say goodbyes to your grandsire."

"Farewell, milord," said Tristifer quietly.

Lord Lannister silently stared at his son and then raised. "I need a drink," he murmured as he left the room. Lord Tully and Tristifer soon followed him.

What a great family, Oswin thought as he left the room. He couldn't believe he had to run seven kingdomes with them. It all is very tiring. Very, very tiring.

 

[Tenart]

Oswin knocked upon the door to Lord Lannister's apartment. On the behest of the king, he was to plan the upcoming wedding and to do that: he would need a financial record of the realm's treasury. Lucky for him, his co-councillor, Lord Lannister, would be ever professional in providing them for him. What a great fellow! I can sense myself already grumpy and old. Gods, I shouldn't have accepted this job.

The door opened, but Oswin had to look down to see no one but Tristifer Rivers. "Good evening, milord," he greeted, but his voice didn't sound enthusiastic.

"Ah, the Young Tristifer, how are you doing?" Oswin asked him in the kindliest manner.

"I'm well, milord. Thank you," he answered as he stepped away for Oswin to enter.

Oswin entered the room, a larger apartment than his own, but after all, Lord Lannister had brought his immediate family. It was only fair to give him large bed-chambers, or else, like the case with Lord Tyrell, his family would occupy the other remaining half of the castle's apartments. The first person he saw was an angry Lady Lannister with a child in his arms, "REYMOND! Get out of the privy, or else I will have your tongue—Oh, Lord Hand, greeting!" She sweetly smiled.

"Lady Lannister," Oswin lowered his head in greeting, "I didn't expect you to recognise me by my face."

"Well, my lord, who can have a piece of bronze in his eyes but you, Oswin 'the Bronze-eyed'?" she answered. The child in her arms looked at him with wide eyes and laughed. Lady Lannister smiled, "Oh, I haven't introduced this little lord to you, lord hand. This child is Damon, my newly-born. Unlike any other child who would fret from your eyes, his already fierce and brave like his father."

"Speaking of which," Oswin interrupted her rambling, despite knowing it was impolite of him, "I would like to chat with Lord Lannister, that is, if he's awake."

"Of course, he is," Lady Lannister pointed at a room upon a stairwell, "He's drinking in his solar."

Oswin thanked her as he climbed the marble stairwell that ended in a door. He opened it uninvitedly and stepped in. Lord Lannister was behind his desk and was drinking two goblets, each in one hand. It was a disgusting and humiliating sight for anyone, but Lord Lannister had long proved he didn't care about his public image. "Greetings, Lord Lannister."

"Huh?" he separated his gaze from the goblets and beamed, "Royce! The one man I don't want as company, but nathless, I'm happy to see you, my homie!" he rose from his seat, and Oswin saw he was only wearing smallclothes under his golden shirt.

"I don't think you are presentable, my lord," said Oswin.

"Fuck the presentable!" he laughed as he came close and offered him a goblet, "Take a drink, wouldn't ya?"

"I rather not, my lord," said Oswin, "I wouldn't want to take drinks at such a young hour, perhaps one when in the hour of bed, but before it? Nay."

"Such a bore," Lord Lannister murmured as he drank the goblets, making the wine shower through his shirt.

"Fascinating," Oswin commented, "Now, my lord, I would appreciate it if we could discuss the financials of the upcoming wedding?"

"Right," Lord Lannister agreed as he crawled back to his chair, "SOMEONE BRING ME THAT DMANED ACCOUNTING BOOK!" he shouted.

As Oswin sat on his seat in front of Lord Lannister, the door opened, and a slim figure with brown hair stepped in, a large book in his hands. "Lord father, you're accounting book."

Ah, so it is Raymond Lannister, Oswin reflected as the young lord approached Lord Lannister. Oswin thought he looked like Lord Tyrell, with long brown hair. It seems the drunkard Lord Lannister also noticed this, for he grimaced at the sight of his son. "Tyrell?" he whispered.

"No, Lord Lannister, 'tis your son," said Oswin.

But Lord Lannister didn't seem to hear his words, for he raised from his seat. His eyes glowed with a wave of sudden anger, and a dark shadow of maleficent passed over him as he shouted, "You bastard!" and put his hands on Raymond's neck and started strangling him.

Raymond was helpless against his father, his eyes widened as if they were to come out, and his breath slowly fading. The only sound he could utter was, "Help," towards Oswin.

Oswin realised he was still in the real world and went to help the young man. Raymond was choking from the lack of air, and Lord Lannister's arms seemed inseparable from his neck. Oswin quickly took a goblet of wine and threw it to Lord Lannister's face. For a moment, he stood still and loosened his grape on the neck. Raymond took the opportunity and fleed away. Lord Lannister slowly sat down, his breathing tense and his eyes wide-opened.

"Lord Lannister?" Oswin hesitantly asked.

"Why did you stop me?" he murmured.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Why did you stop me?!" he asked loudly, "Why didn't you let me end the reason of all my mayhems!"

Oswin frowned, "What are you talking about?"

For a moment, silence fell over as Lord Lannister looked downwards. Then, sounds of sobbing rose from him, and they got louder to cries. "What have I done?" he moaned.

Oswin sat next to him, "My lord, are you sure you're feeling well?"

Lord Lannister looked to Oswin, "What have I done, Royce?" he asked desperately, "Why did I entrust that wastrel Tyrell with my daughter?"

"None of your words makes any sense, my lord," said Oswin, "I beg you to elaborate."

"Tristifer..." he sobbed, "Tristifer... he's Aegon's son!" he resumed his cries.

"King Aegon's son?!" Oswin asked in astonishment.

"Tyrell sold my daughter's maidenhood to that fat plump!"

Oswin now fell aback, firstly disgusted by the family dynamics of Lord Lannister and then amazed by another fact, "Then why the boy resides with Lord Tully?"

"He knows it too!" he cried, "Damned bastard taunts me to this day because I begged him to take custody of that little devil." he reached his hands to a goblet and fully drank it.

"This is all too vile for me," Oswin murmured as he raised, "I... I will leave you, my lord. So you could mourn this tragedy."

Lord Lannister faintly smiled, "I knew you would've understood me, Royce." Something in his smile disturbed Oswin, mayhaps because of how wicked it seemed.

"Err...farewell, my lord," said Oswin as he exited the solar. He quickly climbed the stairwell and left the Lannister apartment without saying goodbyes. His mind conflicted and confused, Oswin decided to head to Lord Tully's apartment. He didn't know why, but Lord Lannister's desperate cries sparkled an idea into his head, and through it, perhaps he could prevent a future war.

Filled with these thoughts, Oswin found himself by Lord Tully's door. As he softly knocked on the door, it opened freely. He welcomed himself in and entered the room. The room was dark, with candles off and curtains blocking the sunlight. Nervous about how Lord Tully would react to his presence, Oswin called, "My lord, are you awake?"

Lord Tully's apartment was smaller than Lord Lannister's. It didn't have a stairwell to the personal solar or an enormous main hall but more like the chambers of Oswin's own. The room contained a bed and a library, and that was it. Oswin wondered if it was out of Lord Tully's humility to choose a room like this or if the king had sought to give him the small-scaled chambers.

As he was deep in his thoughts, a voice called him, "Lord Royce, making a habit of interrupting people's baths?"

Oswin turned to the corner of the room and saw Lord Tully, with a towel wrapped around his waist, looking at him. "Lord Tully," Oswin nervously greeted him, "I came here to... talk to you about a certain topic."

"Feel free to discuss it," said Lord Tully as he walked forward and leid his back onto the bed.

"Don't you want to dress up?" Oswin asked.

Lord Tully only smiled at that, "'Tis always time for dresses, my lord. I would rather hear what you have to say."

Oswin was rather uncomfortable bringing up the topic. He took a deep breath and said, "My lord, Lord Lannister has revealed information worthy of the king's concern, and I'm inclined to discuss it with you for it."

"Let me guess," Lord Tully smiled playfully, "Tristifer has found a new father?"

Oswin raised an eyebrow out of surprise, "Why, yes, that's what I was to say. How did you figure it out?"

Lord Tully heartily laughed, his laughter echoing throughout the room, "I see my friend has had fooled you, lord hand."

"I don't understand," said Oswin as he sat abed.

"Well, then I would suspect your intelligence, my lord," Lord Tully continued laughing, "You see, dear Tyler was always fond of tricking people. One of his favourite tricks is to claim Tristifer's parenthood unto others. By now, the boy has had more fathers than the number of the old gods of the North."

Oswin realised what a fool he was and rubbed his forehead. He knew Lord Lannister's smile was suspicious. Damnations! he mused. The lion lord tricked him so that he wouldn't get working on the financial records. "I should leave then," he said, "Albeit with embarrassment instead of accomplishment."

"What were you trying to accomplish, lord hand?"

"Oh, nothing, just an idea I developed upon coming here."

"Tell me of it, my lord," said Lord Tully, "I think your idea could entertain me very well."

Oswin hesitated for a moment, fearing Lord Tully would reveal his idea to the king, and his grace would chop off his head because of treason. "My greatest fear for the realm is of the bastards, my lord. We could perhaps reduce their number."

"Ah," Lord Tully smiled, "Talking about murdering, right?"

"Not murdering," said Oswin, "Given that your other bastard has an unknown mother, I thought we could argue that his mother is Melissa Blackwood. And therefore claim that you are the father of the Blackwood bastards."

Lord Tully beamed, "We're going for cuckolding King Aegon? Oh, I'd be delighted to partake."

"Truly?" Oswin asked in astonishment, "You have no remorse or fear?"

"Of course not!" he retorted, "A big scandal to bring life into this boring court is all I want."

"A wedding is upcoming," Oswin pointed out.

"But the question of the legitimacy of the illegitimate children of a previous king is more scandalous," said Lord Tully, "That's just how our culture works, lord hand."

"I..." Oswin struggled to find words, mainly because he was amazed by the outcome, "Well then, let us set my plan in motion."

"Oh? we have a plan?"

"It is still flawed, but its premise is quite simple," said Oswin as he began telling him of his plan, "I want to approach this to his grace as a juristical case, but in an event whereon the king does not believe us, we would die for treason. Hence, I propose an intermediary to do these in our place, and in case he couldn't convince the king and therefore got executed, we would be safe from harm."

Lord Tully's face lightened as he wickedly grinned, "That's a brilliant plan, lord hand. But how can you guarantee that this intermediary wouldn't backstab us?"

Oswin scratched his chin as he pondered. "Hmm, we should choose someone vulnerable to the court schemes and of little to no power of his own so that if he decided to backstab us, we would eliminate him." Suddenly, Oswin felt bad at himself for his words. When did he become such a heartless soul like the rest of his peers?

Lord Tully looked at him with a shocked face and a small smile, "Since when did the wholesome Lord Royce become such a cunning blackguard? Not that I'm complaining, lord hand. Your devious ways make this dull place much interesting."

"I know not if I should take that as a compliment or as a warning," said Oswin gloomy.

"A warning for sure, my lord. After all, 'tis I who's talking," Lord Tully raised from his bed towards a closet, "So, have you chosen a candidate?"

"I have not, my lord. Do you have any suggestions?"

"Oh, you bet I have: let's contact Prince Aenyx and hit two birds with one stone."

Prince Aenyx? Oswin mused as he pondered on the potential intermediary. If proven false, the king wouldn't end the prince but rather denounce his legitimacy, hence no child murder on his part, right? It is still honourable, even though devious, as Lord Tully says. "Not a bad suggestion, my lord. I will send my son to the prince at once," he said as he raised from the bed, "Until then, mayhaps you want to dress up."

---

"I still have doubts if this is a good idea, uncle," said Aerys as he studied the garden yards with his worrying eyes.

Aenyx scowled at him, "You wanted me to come out of my nihilistic depression, well," he pointed at his target, "Well, help get back at the harlot who embarrassed me in front of all the lords."

They left Aenyx's chambers just a minute ago and accidentally saw Baelor and Myra by the gardens. On Aenyx's insistence, they stalked them while keeping themselves at the rear. Aenyx wanted to find some way to harass Myra. Perhaps then, she would understand not to quarrel with him.

Now the two were watching the couple from behind a tall tree. Aenyx, in particular, was thinking if he could push Myra onto the fountain near them. Aerys was quick to disagree, though, "I may not know my brother well, uncle, but if there's one thing that defies him correctly, it's his sense of righteousness and how he persuades for justice. If we throw Aunt Myra into the fountain, chances are we become stable boys after playing as jesters in the wedding."

"Oh, come off of it," said Aenyx hoarsely, "As if I'm living in heaven that I should worry about the consequences of my actions. I'm long past caring about anything."

"Well, if it's this way, then why don't we take revenge on someone else, uncle?" Aerys asked, "Someone like Prince Lotaryon."

Aenyx raised his eyebrow as he turned to Aerys, "Nephew, I think I just thought of another idea!"

"Is it my idea, but from your mouth?" said Aerys casually.

"Yes," he admitted, "Now listen, why don't we take revenge on Prince Lotaryon?"

They decided to leave the garden for the courtyard because that was where the Dornish dolt would land after spending another night with his whores. Or so Aenyx thought, for as they were walking their way out of the gardens, a loud and clear voice reached his ears, "Oh, Uncle Aenyx? he's over there."

It was Baelor's voice, and as Aenyx turned back, he saw Baelor was pointing at the hideout he and Aerys were hiding behind. Did he know we were stalking? Aenyx thought worriedly, but his cause of worry was soon replaced by seeing another figure there, Prince Lotaryon and a boy he didn't care to remember.

Seeing as he was already exposed, he took Aerys' hand and together, they walked forward to where others were standing. Baelor's expression was neutral, whereas Myra seemed smug and full of herself. Aenyx scowled at her and then turned his scowl on Lotaryon, who looked more concerned than evilly arrogant.

"Prince Aenyx, Prince Aerys," Lotaryon greeted them first.

Well, that shrinks down the awkwardness, Aenyx reflected as he faked a smile, "Ah, Prince Lotaryon. It's most pleasant to see you alive and well."

Lotaryon put up a fake smile, "Same to you, young princes. Can I have the honour to introduce the young Lord Alvin, son of Lord Royce?"

Royce? still doesn't ring a bell, Aenyx mused. "You seem very familiar, Lord Alvin. Have I met you already?"

"You have indeed, my prince," Alvin quickly answered, "Remember when I asked Princess Daenerys to escort her to the throne room, and you took the responsibility instead?"

Aenyx now recognised the young-but-still-older-than-him lord and smiled amusedly, "Ah, yes. How's everything working out with my dear sister, my lord?"

"Until now, nothing particular, but I'm sure good things will soon develop between us."

"Yeah, keep dreaming, you silly goose," Aenyx murmured, "So, I gather you were searching for me for an audience, dear friends?" he asked Lotaryon and Alvin.

"Indeed," said Alvin as he looked towards the others, "but I think it's best if we take this talk to private. Would that be fine to you, my prince?"

"Sure, come this way," Aenyx led the way while Aerys and Alvin followed him. They went for a secluded part of the gardens, though, looking back at how he was exposed, Aenyx no longer trusted if the garden yards were discreet for him enough.

"What is it, Lord Alvin?" he asked.

"My lord father wants to see you, my prince," said Alvin, "However, it must remain a secret; you can't tell it to anyone."

"You sure? cause you have already told it to Aerys here."

"Damnations!" Alvin exclaimed as he hit his forehead, "Can I buy your silence, Prince Aerys?"

"Don't even try it," said Aenyx, "He'll simply come with me, and the two of us will keep this meeting a secret."

A look of relief appeared on his face, "Thank you, my prince. I should say, I was this close to considering killing the prince."

"What?!" Aenyx and Aerys exclaimed in unison.

Alvin's eyes widened as he realised what he had said, "I said too much," he quickly walked away from them.

"What a strange person," Aerys commented.

"Pah, you tell me," said Aenyx, "He didn't even bother to tell us where Lord Royce's chambers are."

"No matter, uncle," said Aerys, "You're lucky I know where should we head to."

"Well, lead the way."

---

"Come in," said a voice, probably Lord Royce's, and invited them into the room.

"Don't you think you should open the door for us, Lord Ryce?" said Aenyx, "My nephew and I are royal princes, after all."

There was a moment of silence in which, Aenyx was close to regretting his words, but then the door opened, and an apologetic Lord Ryce appeared, his bronze eye making Aenyx startled for a moment.

"I'm sorry, my prince, I was distracted by something else," he went aside, "Please come in."

"No worries, my lord," said Aenxy as he stepped in, "I'm Prince Aenyx, as you know, and this is Prince Aerys, my dear nephew." Aerys bowed slightly at his introduction.

"Oh, I didn't think you would bring Prince Aerys, your grace," said Lord Royce.

"Is it a problem, my lord?"

"Of course not, of course not," he looked towards the end of the room where another man was sitting, "May I introduce Lord Tully?"

"No need to introductions, lord hand," said Lord Tully, "Prince Aernyx and I have met aplenty by this point."

Aenyx nodded, "Indeed, we have. I see Lord Lannister had yet to cut your head off, my lord."

"Don't raise your hopes. I'm never going to die."

Aenyx didn't answer. Instead, he walked to a chair in front of the two lords and sat on it. He turned to see Aerys having no chairs and invited him to sit on his bottom by his side. "Now," Aenyx turned to Lord Royce, "What has brought us this meeting, my lords?"

Lord Royce rested his arms on his chin, "For a matter of utmost importance and as same dangerous to our lives. So I beg you to keep this meeting a secret."

"What matter could be so dangerous, and how's that I'm here to address it?" said Aenyx as he awkwardly shifted in his chair.

Lord Royce and Tully exchanged looks, one of worry and the other smugly. Lord Royce returned to him, "Lord Tully and I had talks, my prince. And it concerns you, I'm afraid."

"Me?!" Aenyx exclaimed. Do they know? "What would I have done, my lord?"

The look on their face was unimpressed and unmoved. "We know you had attacked Prince Lotaryon, my prince."

"WHAT?!" said Aerys and Aenyx in unison. Neither expected the lords to say this. "I didn't attack that fog! Prince Lotaryon attacked me! He nearly killed my sworn knight."

"Our sources say otherwise," said Lord Tully with a bone-crushing smirk, "You ordered your sworn knight to attack Prince Lotaryon, and he responded by defeating himself."

"That's not how it played out!" Aerys protested and stood up.

"Please sit back at the cold stone, my prince," said Lord Royce, "You need not lie to us. We already have many bystanders that saw and vouch for our version. But you're lucky because we haven't told the king of this accident, or else you would've been under harsh punishment of his grace by now."

Aenyx kept his breath, distress washing over him; This is pure injustice against him! "What punishment are we talking about?" he shakily asked.

"Exile."

At that, he nearly jumped. Exile, he smiled at the thought, I could get out of this hellhole! "Exile to where my lords?"

"Hmm," Lord Tully put his hands on his chin, "I don't know, Skagos, mayhaps?"

From a corner of his eyes, Aenyx saw Aerys getting tensed, "S...Skagos? Father wouldn't be that cruel."

"Is Skagos a lonely isle by the ocean?"

"Worst, it's an island of cannibals!"

Aenyx's eyes widened, and he shrank into his seat. "No! Please! Don't send me to the cannibals!"

"Well, we have to do our duties, my prince," said Lord Tully, "However, my heart bleeds to see your sad face..."

"That's oddly specific, but alright," Aenyx mumbled between Lord Tully's words.

"...So we decided beforehand to come up with a solution that benefits both you and us."

As Aenyx heard the words, he couldn't help but feel wary. "Are you blackmailing me, my lord?"

"Blackmailing is a strong word, my prince. We're only giving you a choice," said Lord Royce.

"Would you care to elaborate? What is this choice that I have?"

Lord Royce and Tully again exchanged looks. "I'm going to be forthright with you, my prince. If you spoke on behalf of us on a forthcoming trial..."

"TULLY!" a booming sound roamed through the chambers as the doors aggressively opened, and a Golden-haired drunkard walked in, who was none but Lord Lannister. Laughing dumbly, he walked towards Lord Tully, and his smile slightly fell when he saw Aenyx and the others. "I see you have guests."

"More like prisoners, my lord," said Aenyx, who raised an eyebrow when he met Lord Lannister's confused look, "You know, blackmailing us for the false information that happened the previous night?"

Lord Lannister turned to Lord Tully, "What is he blathering about?"

"Nothing for you to worry about, my lord," said Lord Royce, "We were just talking casually with the young princes." Aenyx's senses picked up as he heard those words, and he smiled as he realised something important.

"These two lords are trying to lure me into their scheme, Lord Lannister. They purposefully falsified the last night's attack on Prince Lotaryon to show me as the attacker."

"Oh?" Lord Lannister wickedly smirked as he turned to the other two, "What scheme are you imposing? It Doesn't matter; I'm in."

"There is no scheme, my lord..." Lord Royce started, but Lord Tully interrupted him.

"Yes, there is, but first, let us hear why Lord Lannister has decided to burst into my chambers," Lord Tully turned to Lord Lannister, "Well, asshole?"

"Ah, well, you see, I was drinking alonely in my solar when my lady wife confronted me to say that I do drinking with people instead of alone."

"So it's a carousing party, eh?" asked Lord Tully.

"Pretty much, yes," said Lord Lannister, "And well, I came here to invite my only friend, the trout-faced monster called Medgar Tully, to join me in my excessive drinking."

"Well, I see that part of yours every day; it's a regularity for you," Lord Tully retorted, "But I gladly accept the invitation only if you invite Lord Royce here too."

"Fine, why not. The more, the merrier, although I'm not so sure that's applied for now."

What is this insanity? Aenyx thought; He had just revealed a treacherous scheme to Lord Lannister, and in response, he invited the two lords to a party? How insulting. "Ehm, my lords? I think you had forsaken the main discussion here: that you are blackmailing my nephew and me."

"Your nephew?" said Lord Lannister confusedly until he saw Aerys, "Ah, Prince Aerys, my soon-to-be good-son."

"You're marrying your daughter to him?!" Aenyx asked, "But what about me?"

"Don't flatter yourself, my prince. What kind of father would I be if I married my daughter to you?"

"The kind that still led this parasite of a human take his daughter's maidenhood," Aenyx pointed at Lord Tully. The action made the two lords loudly laugh. Aenyx found himself annoyingly irritated by their ignorance towards him. So, he raised from his seat and braced himself. "My lords, if you excuse me, I'm gonna reveal your scheme to my brother, the king."

Lord Royce's eyes widened in surprise, "My prince, please don't be rash. I reassure you that our scheme is not something devious. In fact, it's a scheme for the good of the realm; if you only let me explain it to you thoroughly."

"Oh, really?" said Aenyx smugly, "Then why don't you explain it in the carousing party, my lord?"

"What are you rambling about?" said Lord Lannister as he shot him a tensed look.

"I'm saying I want to be in the carousing party." I'm a great negotiator. Aenyx left this part unsaid.

"Lady Lannister is only interested in inviting married couples, and you and your imaginary dragon do not count as one," Lord Lannister retorted.

"I will accompany Uncle Aerys, my lord," said Aerys. The half-laugh from Lord Lannister encouraged him to continue, "Tonight, I will be Prince Aenyx's lady."

"What?" said Aenyx.

"Very well," Lord Lannister didn't seem bothered by the action as he slightly bowed, "The tales of your beauty have not been exaggerated, Lady Waters."

"Thank you, my lord," Aerys curtsied.

Lord Lannister again laughed loudly, "This is all too weird." He walked to the door to exit the room but turned his head back and said, "Remember, the party starts shortly before midnight, don't forget to come," and left the room.

The four sat there in silence, with Lord Tully giggling hysterically. Finally, Aenyx gripped Aerys and walked towards the door, "We will see you tonight, my lords. Farewell for now." And as he exited the chambers, he already knew he would do whatever they wanted of him to break Daeron and his kingdom into pieces. No one makes me a court jester, no one.

---

The carousing party wasn't something grand like the coronation party, just a few people sitting by a table in the Lannister's apartment's main hall. Aenyx was sitting beside Lord Lannister, and in his front sat Lord Tully. Aerys sat beside Aenyx, and Lady Lannister sat at the other end of the table. And Lord Royce was absent.

Suddenly the door knocked, and from it, the man himself emerged. "Royce!" said Lord Lannister, "Where in the seven hells were you?"

"I was..." Lord Royce took a deep breath as he sat next to Lord Tully, "I was formalising the marriage contract betwixt Prince Lotaryon and Princess Daenerys."

Lord Lannister's eyes widened in shock and disbelief, "So, the bastard got the Princess at last, eh?"

"Yes, he did."

"This is unacceptable," said Lord Tully, "Two marriages with Dorne in one generation? What are they going with, making the Dornish look paler than a bag of burnt-out coal?"

"Let's not discuss the idiocy of our new king's policies," said Lord Lannister as he drank his wine.

The room fell silent for a moment, and Aenyx, feeling uncomforted, asked: "So, Lord Royce, don't you want to explain your scheme to us?"

Lord Royce shot an uncomfortable look at Lady Lannister, "My lady, can you excuse yourself from the party?"

"Oy, Royce," said Lord Lannister, "I trust my lady even more than myself, so you better open your mouth and ramble whatever cursed scheme a demon has put into your mind before I fuckin—"

"Tyler," said Lady Lannister, "Remember the law?"

"Oh, darn it. I was this close to using impolite words. I apologise, love," Lord Lannister turned to Lord Royce, "Continue, my lord hand."

"Alright," Lord Royce swallowed before continuing, "I don't know if you've noticed, but we have too many bastards in King's Landing."

"True."

"So, I thought we could mayhaps omit a few of them."

A gasp followed by utter silence answered Lord Royce. Aenyx widened his eyes and felt further afeared when he saw Lord Lannister's wicked grin and Lord Tully's devilish beam. He could finally open his mouth and speak: "Is this why I'm here? Are you going to kill me?"

"No, my prince, we aren't, not now at least," said Lord Tully, "We need you as an agent of ours. To act in our place and eliminate the Blackwood bastards."

Again, Aenyx found himself confused, "If you want me to kill some of my siblings, I'm fine with it as long as I get a handsome reward."

"UNCLE!"

"We're not asking you to kill the bastards. We're asking you to put forth a trial against the bastards and me, arguing that they are mine and not King Aegon's."

"What?" Aenyx asked in confusion.

"It's true. That's what we want of you," said Lord Royce, "In a few days, we will ask for an audience with the king while he's holding court. Until then, we prepare for you false evidence that states Lady Mira Blackwood was indeed peregrinated with Lord Tully's children while being a mistress of King Aegon."

"To what end? What will this accomplish?"

"Well, first and foremost, this action will eliminate three potential claimants to the throne; Prince Brynden and the Princesses Myra and Gwenys will marry, presumably outside the royal family, and what would happen if they married the son of Lord Lannister? He will surely raise arms," Lord Royce turned to Lord Lannister, "No offence intended, my lord."

"Not offended, lord hand. That'd be what I'd do."

Aenyx pondered on Lord Royce's words as he concluded, "Will I get omitted, Lord Royce? I don't care about the others, but I would like to live on."

Lord Tully smirked, his eyes turning to Lord Royce, who, in response, exchanged uncertain looks with him. He then spoke: "Of course not, my prince. You are one of the good bastards if that makes sense."

"And besides," Lord Tully continued, "Who else would lead us all unto a trial and with bravery outspoke and backtalk others where we can't?"

Aenyx found himself nodding in approval along with their words. And immediately felt distressed at how cheap he gets flattered. No, he would also make demands from them. "My lords, while I'm flattered that you have sought my help in your scheme, I can't help but ask you a favour in return. I gather you are all aware of my fraud with Prince Lotaryon."

"More like two drunken cats fanging each other, but sure, go on," said Lord Tully.

Aenyx gave him a disapproving look, but in his mind, he pierced through Lord Tully with a sword for his interruption. "So, I've decided to accept your invitation only if you help me eliminate Prince Lotaryon."

The room fell silent, with all eyes surprised looking at him, though Lord Lannister looked at his mug and ground his teeth in frustration. A few seconds passed when he spoke: "Oh, look, this bottle is empty," Lord Lannister turned to Aenyx, "Hey, my prince, why don't we two go down the barrels and get another bottle, eh, my boy?"

Oh, no, Aenyx thought, He's going to kick me up. Aenyx shook his head, "No, I'm fine—" "You sure?" "—Yea, I'm fine—" "I insist, my prince..."

A sudden cry of a baby interrupted their competition. Lady Lannister raised an eyebrow, "Oops, it's Damon," she raised from her seat, "I go tend to him; he rejects his nursemaids. Only I could breastfeed him."

Aenyx turned to Lady Lannister, "I can help you, my lady," he was about to raise when she stopped him.

"No, no, enjoy the carousing, my dear; he'll probably bite you, anyway," she mumbled the last part.

"Thanks, love," said Lord Lannister with a grin. Lady Lannister shot him a sweet smile before exiting the main hall. As soon as she was out of the picture, Lord Lannister's face grew dark, and his eyes narrowed on Aenyx as he leaned closer. "Now listen, you little piece of shit, we had a deal: in return for breaking in my carousing party and giving me perpetual headaches, you'll swallow whatever the hellhole these two jugglebugs have planned for you, no questions asked. I will not associate myself with a Dornish maniac who stabs people in the clear day."

"Well, I want this Dornish maniac gone," Aenyx snapped back.

"And I want to drown in a barrel of wine as big as the Wall. But that's as likely to happen as Tully here putting a child into that new wife of his."

"Pah! That'll never happen," said Lord Tully. Lord Royce looked at him with a mix of remorse and guilt.

Aenyx returned his attention to Lord Lannister, "I want that man annihilated, or else this deal is off."

Lord Lannister raised from this seat, "You backstab us, you little shit, and I will shove my feast so hard in your throat that it breaks from the other side—" suddenly, Lady Lannister returned, and he had to change his words, "—And that's how the mother granted us fertility, Blessed be the seven."

"Blessed be the seven," everyone repeated. Even Aenyx followed suit.

"Yes, truly, blessed be the seven," said Lady Lannister as she sat again. Suddenly, the baby cried again and she had to excuse herself.

As the room got pacified, Aenyx thought of another strategy to approach the lords. He wouldn't get out of this room without their promises. As he was lingering, he noticed Aerys taking a long breath.

"Lord Royce," the lord turned to Aerys, "As you've noticed, my Nuncle Aenyx has generously accepted to put his life in danger for what you and Lord Tully have seen fit. My father would very well send him to exile to Skagos because of even thinking of such thoughts. I'm sure a little assurance that you and your comrades would support him in return would send relief to my poor uncle, don't you think so?"

Lord Royce pondered for a moment. Aenyx noticed that he was conflicted about how to answer Aerys' question. "Indeed, my prince," he finally answered, "My heart cannot help but ache for Prince Aenyx, but alas, my rational mind does not seem to follow."

"What would your rational mind say if I mention your son, Lord Alvin, could wed my aunt should Prince Lotaryon be eliminated."

Lord Royce's eyes widened, "It would die of excitement, my prince. But what do you mean when you say eliminating?"

"Killing, of course," said Aenyx as he smiled, "Prince Lotaryon was this close to killing me last night. In return, I will teach him to how to it right."

"Well, that makes everything more interesting," said Lord Tully, "I will endorse you, Prince Aenyx, under one condition: that you kill Prince Lotaryon in secret and display his death as an accident."

"Oh, you don't know what I have planned for him, my lord. It's brutal!" Aenyx lied. He didn't have anything planned.

Aerys turned to Lord Lannister, "Well, my lord, it seems we have reached a consensus. Would you care to join us too?"

Lord Lannister shot him a faked smile, one arising from frustration but also (and weirdly at that), admiration. "Well, my goodson, you have both dragged my comrades into your nest and proved that I picked the right prince for my daughter. I like you." Aerys sweetly smiled at that, but Aenyx found himself frowning. The fact that he couldn't convince them with his natural diplomatic talents and that Aerys, of all people, was successful burned him from inside.

"Rise your cups, dear friends," Lord Lannister roamed, "Tonight, we have reached another victory for Westeros! We have agreed upon killing Prince Lotaryon, and we will set our plan in motion to rid ourselves of three bastards. Drink wine, my friend—bar you two, my princes. You drink milk— to a greater future!"

"Hazzah!" Everyone drank their cup, and, from there, the party became one of laughter and joy. Aenyx himself couldn't help but join in their carousing, even though he was pretty grumpy just minutes ago. It was only when Lord Lannister passed out from drunkness, that the party came to an end and everyone returned to their chambers.

In his return, Aenyx bid Aerys goodnight and entered his room. Valter was sleeping on the bare ground, per his preference, and Ser Selvy was resting on a couch, still in ache from his wounds. Happy and satisfied, Aenyx headed to his king-sized bed and fell asleep with a wicked smile.

 

[Tenart]

"Are you biting your nails, my prince?" Valter asked him. He, Aenyx, Aerys and Ser Selvy was waiting outside the throne room. A week had passed after Aenyx and Aerys attended the carousing party, and according to Lord Royce, everything was ready to set their plan in motion. Right now, a large crowd filled the throne room, waiting to hear Lord Royce's important announcement. The only problem was the absence of Lord Royce and Lord Tully, which made Aenyx extremely nervous. He hadn't seen the false evidence that Lord Royce had created for this trial, and he had no idea what his arguments would be. Moreover, he feared that Lord Tully would ruin his demeanour during the trial, making it seem like he was acting, thus harming Aenyx's performance. Because there was no way Aenyx would get out of his character, he's a professional.

"No," he answered, "I'm only demonstrating my annoyance."

"For what reason, uncle? Everything will work out fine," said Aerys.

Aenyx glared at him, "It is not you who's going to talk out there, nephew. I'm holding the weight of the world right now."

Suddenly, Lord Lannister came near them, "Ah, my favourite group of people, two adults playing children, a bastard clearly insane and my soon-to-be goodson. How are you doing?"

"Well, now that you've asked, my lord..." Ser Selvy started in a raspy voice, but Lord Lannister stopped him.

"Shut up. I don't want to hear it," Lord Lannister turned to Aenyx, "Where are Lord Tully and Lord Royce? The whole room is waiting for them."

"How should I know?" Aenyx aggressively answered, "I'm waiting for them, too!"

"Well, if they didn't show themselves, I'm going to frame you for wasting everyone's time."

Aenyx's eyes widened in shock, and he wanted to retort when the sound of boots running through the halls caught everyone's interest. It was Lord Royce and his son, Alvin, running with pieces of documents and manuscripts in their hands. Behind them was Lord Tully, walking ever casually. People rushed to them, trying to speak with them, but they paid no mind. The doors to the throne room opened, and Lord Royce passed everyone into the hall. Everyone, including Aenyx and his companions, followed him.

As they entered the throne room, Lord Royce called Daeron loudly, "Your grace! Your grace! We are here to ask you an audience."

"At last, my lord hand. What was the reason for your lateness?" Daeron asked.

"My son and I were testing the evidence for their veracity, your grace; for today, our audience with you contains a trial."

Daeron raised an eyebrow, "A trial? What are you talking about, Lord Royce?"

Lord Royce didn't answer. Instead, he turned around and pointed his finger at Aenyx, "Prince Aenyx Targaryen and Lord Medgar Tully, please come forth." Aenyx walked forward and heard whispers and murmurers arising from Lord Royce's words, but he paid them no mind. He reached Lord Royce simultaneously with Lord Tully. "Your grace, Prince Aenyx had put forth some drastic indictments against Lord Tully, indictments worthy of your time and attention." Aenyx laughed in his mind. Lord Royce had picked his words carefully, 'indictments', which put Aenyx in a positive light, whereas 'accusations' would put him in a negative light.

Daeron seemed cynical, but he decided to play along, "By all means, my lord hand, please read these indictments."

Lord Royce cleared his throat and picked a piece of parchment from his manuscripts, and started to read it, "I, Prince Aenyx Targaryen, formally, Aenyx Waters, under the virtue of my truth, herewith declare that the three children birthed by Lady Melissa Blackwood and begotten by King Aegon, the fourth of his name, which are: Prince Brynden Targaryen, and Princesses Gwenys and Myra Targaryen, are, in truth, sired by Lord Medgar Tully, the lord paramount of the Riverlands, as a result of his affair with Lady Melissa Blackwood."

Gasps filled the room, and murmurs became louder. Daeron first widened his eyes and then looked at Aenyx with suspicion. Aenyx couldn't handle his gaze and turned away and accidentally saw where his siblings were standing. Everyone was glaring at him, but the three Blackwood children were looking at him with confusion. Also, he noticed that he had met the boy, Brynden. What a sweet boy. Too bad he caught up with politics, Aenyx thought.

Daeron seemed to be thinking about the right approach. "And this letter is written by Prince Aenyx himself?" he asked.

"Yes, it is," Lord Royce answered.

"That's unbelievable," said Daeron.

Lord Royce took that as a compliment, "I know, right? Prince Aenyx's knowledge is indeed surprising."

"No, I meant that I don't believe he could write that without a jurist dictating the words to him."

"That is expected of you to assume, brother. I, sometimes, too, forget how little I am despite my many intellectual thoughts," said Aenyx.

Daeron didn't retort. Instead, he turned to Lord Royce, "My lord, I presume you support that we spend time and resources on this matter?"

"Yes, your grace, I do wholeheartedly."

Daeron heavily sighed as he tried to lay back on his throne, but one of the melted swords nipped his back. "So, the premise of this complaint is that Prince Aenyx claims that my three siblings born from Lady Melissa Blackwood are actually Lord Tully's children, correct?" Aenyx shook his head in approval. "Then, we cannot hold this trial unless we have Lady Blackwood with us."

"No, we don't, your grace," said Lord Royce as he picked another manuscript and handed it over to Daeron, "This piece of parchment written during King Aegon IV's reign, regarding the rights of defence, indicates that in an event when the culprit or the plaintiff is absent from the trial at hand, a person related to the culprit and the plaintiff could take the role as a representative for either of them." Again, Lord Royce was clever with his words, 'the culprit' when he could use 'the accused'.

Daeron didn't seem amused by Lord Royce's words, "Do tell, my lord hand, do you know that my father wrote this law so that he could put in a trial his claims of my illegitimate begettings when I was in Dragonstone?"

"Still, this is a law written and approved by the contemporary master of law, Lord Janos Hayford, and was used thereon for at least fifty cases," Lord Royce argued.

"And as the current master of the laws, I approve that this law could still be in use," said Lord Tully.

Daeron huffed heartedly at that, "Fine. Who is the representative for Lady Blackwood?" Aenyx was stunned at how easily Daeron gave up on Lord Royce's nonsense. Perhaps this was out of his fear to keep his justice-seeking demeanour from breaking because if Aenyx held authority, he would outright throw every one of them out for backtalking to him. He smirked at the thought of kicking people, and suddenly, his eyes fell on Lord Celtigar, who was standing behind the Iron Throne, frozen and emotionless. The two gazed at each other for a moment before Aenyx jerked away.

"Our representative, your grace," said Lord Royce, "Is Lord Valter Mooton, the heir to the Maidenpool." Aenyx widened his eyes. He didn't expect that.

Daeron, too, seemed surprised as he raised his eyebrow, "A representative should be at least remotely familiar..."

"With both the culprit and the plaintiff, yes, I know, your grace," said Lord Royce as he turned to Valter, "Lord Mooton, is it true that you served as a page and then, as a ward for Lord Tully from the age of six?"

"Yes, my lord, it is," said Valter as he separated from Aerys and Ser Selvy, who were standing in the corner of the room.

"Moreover, is it true that you had met Lady Blackwood several times?"

"Only once, my lord hand."

Lord Royce turned to Daeron, "See, your grace? Our representative is valid."

Daeron looked astonished, "He just said he had met Lady Blackwood only once. How can he know the lady thoroughly by only one time?"

"Oh, one time is enough to know the lady thoroughly, your grace, if you know what I mean," said Lord Tully as he raised his eyebrows up and down.

"UGH!" the sounds of cringe rose from where Aenyx's siblings were standing.

Daeron, too, seemed unease as he sighed in defeat and said, "Fine have it your way. From this moment, the trial officially begins. Prince Aenyx Targaryen, how did you conclude that your siblings are not your siblings?"

Aenyx braced himself and quickly thought of something, "Based on behaviours, your grace. Namely, the similarities betwixt Lord Tully and Lady Myra, who both are immoral assholes."

The room fell into distress as Aenyx spoke those words. Lord Tully didn't seem to mind what he had just said, he took pride in his immorality, after all, but Aenyx could see blood in Myra's eyes. On the other side of the room, Valter yelled the loudest among others, "Objection, your grace, objection!"

"You're objecting to what, Lord Mooton?" Daeron yelled back.

"Objecting to Prince Aenyx's statement, your grace; Lord Tully is not an immoral asshole, but Lady Myra? I don't know."

Again the room fell into excited yells and shouting, Daeron tried to keep the order, but it was futile. Lord Lannister, seeing the disorder, shouted, "SHUT UP!" and everyone went quiet.

"Thank you, Lord Lannister," Daeron turned to Valter, "Lord Mooton, your statement needs a test of veracity. Lord Tully, do you agree that you are not an immoral asshole?"

"No, your grace, I do not," said Lord Tully, "I'm very much self-aware of my personality, and I am indeed an immoral asshole," he admitted shamelessly.

"Could you provide us with an example of your immoral behaviour?"

Lord Tully rubbed his chin, "Hmm, so many good moments, but if I have to be one, I pick my favourite: when I pushed Lord Mooton, who was my ward at the time, from a glass window onto the courtyards. It was fucking hilarious."

The whole room fell into silence at the revelation, and Daeron cleared his throat after a few seconds, "That does validify Prince Aenyx's claim on you being an immoral asshole, my lord. But still, this is no valid evidence that Princess Myra and her full siblings are Lord Tully's children."

"That is not my only evidence, your grace," said Aenyx, "I call the three Blackwood siblings to come forth!" The three siblings hesitated and looked for Daeron's reaction. Daeron seemed doubtful but nodded in approval anyway. With his consent, the three siblings walked forward to the middle of the hall. Myra walked proudly, Brynden took her hand firmly and seemed unsure and uneasy, and the third one —whom Aenyx assumed was Gwenys— walked shyly and hid behind Myra.

Aenyx walked to them, "As you can see, your grace, these three have many things in common with their real father, namely, their blue eyes," he extended his hand to touch Myra's face when she slapped his hand. Thanks the god, her eyes are bluish.

"Don't you touch me," she warned.

"The blue eye colour could've been simply a result of combination betwixt King Aegon's and Lady Blackwood's eye colour," Daeron argued.

"You're right there, your grace, but still, I have a counter-argument," Aenyx walked to Brynden, "Look at Lord Brynden: he has red eyes, and who has red hair? Lord Tully!"

Daeron was unimpressed by his argument, "Are you implying that because Prince Brynden has red eyes, therefore he has the Tully colouring?"

Aenyx knew how ridiculous his argument was, given that Brynden was an albino, thus having natural red eyes. But, alas, there was no turning back at this point, so he answered, "Yes."

Daeron shook his head in disapproval as he turned to Valter, "And what Lady Blackwood has to say in counter-argument, Lord Mooton?"

Valter thought for a moment, "Lady Gwenys and Lady Myra, without a doubt, inherited Lady Blackwood's hair colour, and their eyes seem blue too. If Prince Aenyx thinks they are Lord Tully's children, I'm inclined to agree with him."

Sounds of opposition again rose from Valter's statement, and chaos overtook the court. This time, Aenyx could also see laughing faces amongst the crowd, laughing at the absurdity. Daeron seemed irritated and unleashed his rage when he raised from his throne, "In the name of your king, SILENCE!" his shout surpassed others, and the room fell into a dreadful silence. "This trial has become a jest," he continued, "Everyone, except the parties involved, GET OUT!" Within four minutes, the great hall became empty, and the only people presented there were Lord Royce, Lord Tully, Daeron, and the three siblings. Aenyx felt nostalgia at the throne room, reminding it of a past time when he confronted Lord Celtigar and Daeron.

Daeron sat again on his throne and turned to Lord Royce, "What will you get from this trial, Lord Royce, that you act as its encourager?"

"I will get nothing, your grace. I'm only trying to find truth and impose justice upon it."

Daeron did not seem convinced, but he moved on from Lord Royce and turned to Aenyx, "And what about you, Prince Aenyx, do someone in the court promise you with candies if you made a jest of my court?"

Aenyx faked his sweetest smile, "No, brother, I'm only hoping to climb up in the order of succession, brother."

"Oh, you will never inherit anything, Aenyx. I will make sure of it," said Daeron, "But unto the fate of this trial, I decided to have it nullified. This trial will bring nothing but disorder, and we have already enough of it."

"But your grace, we have evidence..."

"What evidence, lord hand?" Daeron challenged Lord Royce, "Physical similarities are not a measurement in determining one's parentage. Should I remind you that my father tried to have me bastardised with the same efforts?"

"But we have another piece of evidence that is not physical similarities, your grace," said Lord Royce.

"We have?" Aenyx asked out of ignorance.

Lord Royce nodded as he picked a piece of parchment, old and yellowish, from his manuscripts and held it high, "This, your grace, is the letter written by Lord Tully in the night when Lord Brynden was born. A horseman handed this letter personally to Lady Blackwood to keep the context hidden from the king. It has the seal of House Tully and the handwriting of Lord Tully." He walked forward and handed the letter to Daeron.

Daeron carefully examined the letter, his eyebrow raising whenever he encountered a surprising sentence. "This letter for sure seems old, and the context does match Lord Tully's personality: he oft tells how he desires Lady Blackwood and how little he cares for the baby growing inside of her. But still, this only determines that Lord Tully wanted her, not that they had intercourse. His attraction to her could've very well been one-sided."

"That's what I thought, too, your grace, and initially, for this reason, I didn't want to take this matter into trial, but then, Prince Aenyx and I found a letter written by Lady Blackwood to Lord Tully in which she expresses her pure love for him," another letter appeared in his hand, "Unfortunately, you wouldn't find a seal on the letter, because Lady Blackwood doesn't have one. For this reason, I have brought a letter of hers to King Aegon so we could match the handwriting."

Daeron did not start reading the letters. Instead, he looked at Lord Royce with suspicion, "And how come you have acquired this letter, my lord hand?"

"There is a little box decorated with jewels in Lord Tully's chambers wherein he kept this letter."

Daeron frowned angrily, "Who gave you the right to search Lord Tully's room?"

"As the hand of the king, I could not neglect a piece of potential evidence, your grace. I had to search his room."

"And you shall never do it again," said Daeron, "However, I will still inspect these documents." His brother studied them thoroughly, and signs of self-doubt and dilemma appeared on his face. "Lord Tully," he finally said, "Do you confirm that you had this letter in your box and indeed it was written by Lady Blackwood?"

"Yes, your grace."

"Have you received other letters from the lady, or was it just this one?"

"Lady Blackwood wrote to me frequently, your grace, but this letter is the last exchange between us."

Daeron raised an eyebrow, "Where are the other letters, my lord?"

"I burnt them. Lady Blackwood would often write to me about how strong her feelings are for me; they were all rather dull, so I burnt them."

"So I gather you kept this letter because she has described her body thoroughly for you, correct?" Daeron asked.

"Correct," said Lord Tully with a smirk.

Daeron set the letters aside, put his hand on his chin and went into deep thought. It was an awkward position to be in, for Daeron, of course, given that he couldn't lean back to his throne of swords. "Lord Royce," said Daeron, "I have one other question for you before I make my verdict clear: Why am I hearing this topic from you and Prince Aenyx for the first time? How come no one questioned Lady Blackwood's relations with Lord Tully during my father's reign?"

"The fact that this matter has arisen now does not indicates that in the past there haven't been presumptions, your grace," said Lord Royce, "According to Lord Tully, he had to shut many of his staff to keep his affair with Lady Blackwood a secret."

"Lord Tully told you this himself?" Daeron asked.

"I did, your grace."

"Why, my lord? In fact, why are you partaking in this trial so willingly? I know you don't feel ashamed, but it doesn't mean you would confess a love affair of your free will."

Lord Tully shrugged, "There is no point in denying it, your grace."

Daeron looked convinced enough. He raised from his throne and slowly climbed down, "I must say, Lord Royce, the first part of your evidence regarding the physical similarities and the laughter after the fact made me specious to if are you making the court of the king a jest. But these new pieces of evidence have put me in a difficult position." He turned to the three siblings, "Of all the people involved in this mess of a trial, you would have the worst outcome. I can neither say if you are or you are not my half-siblings, and perhaps we will never find out. But the court will not forget the accusations made towards you, and the courtiers from now on will look at you with pity and despair that you have two fathers and are bastards from both."

"But it doesn't have to be like that!" Myra burst out, "If you declare us true children of our true father..."

"It will not suffice, Myra," said Daeron, "Should I utter anything in support of you, the murmurs will become louder and then outright insults and abuse towards you three. I had thought of a way to at least reduce this new unwanted attention upon you: letting this trial become forgotten in the dust of time," he turned towards Lord Royce, "Alas, neither Prince Aenyx nor Lord Royce, and even Lord Tully seems to be on board with my idea, so I thought of another: Sending these three to somewhere else than King's Landing."

"I believe you mean to send them to their mother in Raventree Hall, your grace?" asked Lord Royce.

"Indeed, they could flourish in their mother's home without the court's whisperers following them," said Daeron, "I assume you would support this idea?"

"Wholeheartedly, your grace," Lord Royce lied, or, at least, that's what Aenyx thought.

"I do too, your grace. In fact, I support everything that will end this tedious trial," said Lord Tully as he secretly shot a disapproving look at Aenyx.

"What..." Myra mumbled in astonishment and shock. She slowly broke the grip with Brynden and fainted. Daeron was ever quick to rush to her. Brynden did too. Aenyx was feeling a strange sense of victory. Baelor should thank me later; I saved him from a manipulative bitch. He mused as he remembered the feast for the coronation and how Myra had humiliated him.

Suddenly, he felt Lord Tully and Lord Royce's gaze on him as the two came closer. "My lord," Aenyx greeted them, "I'd say we take a toast for victory, but, alas, I do not have ale for you..."

"Cut the trash, my princeling," said Lord Tully, "How could you be this foolish to fuck it all?!"

"What?!" Aenyx was taken aback by his question, "I did nothing wrong, you dufus. If you were kind to grant me your awful evidence, perhaps we wouldn't be in this position that I had to spitball my way through the trial."

"Nevertheless, you perform very badly, my prince," said Lord Royce, "If not for the letters, we would've lost this trial; the point is, I don't believe neither Lord Tully nor I would want to continue helping you."

"Wha..." Aenyx's mouth fell agape, "But we had a deal!"

"No, we had a drunken rambling, my prince," said Lord Tully, "In truth, there is no possible way for you to prove that we had sworn to help you in killing Prince Lotaryon."

"Lord Lannister..."

Lord Tully let out a low laugh, "I don't think he would even remember that we had a carousing party. Still, even if he does, that doesn't mean he'd help you kill the king's brother-in-law."

Aenyx thought of a last desperate measure, "But Lord Royce, don't you want your son to marry my sister?"

Lord Royce shook his head in disapproval, "Please, my prince, you're either forgotten or had not studied your house's history; the last time a Royce married a Targaryen, my family fell into a civil war. I don't want to have a close bond with you and your family as long as the sun still dawns and we still rule the Runestone." And with that, he angrily walked to leave the Throne Room. Aenyx looked down in sheer defeat as he heard someone else exit the hall too. Perhaps Daeron and the three?

"Hey, princeling," Lord Tully called him. Aenyx sombrely looked up and gazed into his blue eyes, waiting for him to continue. "It was fun laughing at you and cuckolding King Aegon, and I must say, you did well for a bastard brat who delusionally thinks he's in the same rate as a prince. Now, Lord Royce won't reveal your plan to kill Prince Lotaryon to anyone because he doesn't believe you can do such a thing, but I do. Unfortunately, I won't help you. You're on your own on this one, and I expect to get surprised at his death, you hear? Don't just stab him and throw him into the Blackwater Bay." And with that, he left Aenyx wondering what he had said.

---

It was the evening of the same day when everyone gathered in the courtyards to bid Myra, Gwenys and Brynden farewell. Well, almost everyone; according to Aerys, at least one of Aenyx's fellow bastard brothers was absent from the ceremony. Aenyx was standing alongside his usual companions (Ser Selvy, Valter and Aerys), farther from the rest. Because Aenyx could see the glares he received from his family members, they were not pleased with Blackwoods' departure. In particular, many seemed saddened by Brynden leaving. Aenyx didn't care about their glares toward him and their tears shed for their siblings. He was already furious with his betraying allies. How foolish he could've been to trust them. I reckon they are already trying to find a way to omit me. He pursed his lips at the thought, But I won't let them, oh no, I won't become as worthless as my siblings.

Aenyx saw Daeron emerging from his siblings. Firstly he petted Brynden's head and told him words of encouragement. Then, he moved to Gwenys. She declined his gaze, preferring to enter the carriage as soon as possible, and Daeron did not stop her. At last, he moved to Myra, who was crying on Baelor's shoulders. Aenyx could see the pain in his brother's eyes as he beckoned for guardsmen.

The guards had to drag Myra away from Baelor. She was constantly shouting, trying in vain to break from their hands. Hah, pathetic, Aenyx smiled. At least one good thing came out of this damned trial. As the last tracks of son finally disappeared behind the clouds, the carriage of Blackwood siblings set out for Raventree Hall, or whatever its name was. Soon, his siblings vanished into their daily lives, leaving Aenyx with his company staring at the closed gate.

"What now, uncle?" Aerys asked.

Aenyx exhaled a long breath before turning into the entrance of the Red Keep, "Well, it's high time we get back on rehearsals, nephew. After all, we two are the court jesters for the upcoming wedding."

"Oh, regarding that, my prince, I have thought of another idea," said Valter.

"Realy?" Aenyx smirked, "So, let's not waste time here, lads. Let's get back to my chambers and practice for our roles!" And also plot for killing Prince Lotaryon, Aenyx left this part unsaid.

The four walked forward to the keep as the dusk finally took over the day. Just about a weak, this castle will host the most dreaded wedding this land has ever seen, and Aenyx wants to contribute to it by eliminating an archnemesis.

 

[Tenart]

Daeron was in his solar, sitting behind his desk. Alone and isolated from the excitement that prompted on the outside. He was tired, and that he could confidently admit. In the past fortnight, he was crowned king, judged on a trial base on ridiculousness, and single-handedly managed this royal wedding. None of these matters should've drained his soul and made him exhausted in mind. He had gone through more stressful times during the reign of his father. But now, he felt weakened beyond repair. Mayhaps I was not fit for kingship, after all. He thought bitterly.

Daeron pulled out a container from his desk and searched it inside for some wine. He found a half-emptied bottle of Dornish Red with it two sets of goblets. He pursed his lips; Daeron misliked Dornish Wine as much as he loathed roasted chicken. Coincidentally, both these products were of Dorne. Nonetheless, he took the bottle. If it could ease his mind, what differs if it's Arbor Sweet or the Dornish pepper water? Just a drink to take my sorrow and blast it away for today.

Knock, knock. Someone knocked on the door. "Come in," said Daeron as he put the goblets and the bottle on the desk.

"Your grace?" the voice of Lord Celtigar echoed through the room, "Can I have your time?" He said as he entered the room. Daeron studies his clothing: unusually, he was wearing a mantle with his house's heraldry, red crabs strewn on white, instead of the usual silver cape he wore to manifest his Valyrain heritage. Lord Celtigar wore this mantle in a way to cover the right side of his body. For whatsoever reasons, Daeron knew not. Underneath the cape, he wore a sea blue tunic tied to his black trousers through a golden belt. Daeron could not help but also notice the purse that hung from his belt.

"Please, have a seat, my lord," said Daeron as he invited him to sit in an empty chair in front of his desk. As Lord Celtigar took his seat, Daeron spoke again, "What does seem to be amiss?"

"You, your grace," said Lord Celtigar coldly, "We are ready for the wedding, and yet, I see you have isolated yourself in your solar."

"I'm only a bit tired, my lord," Daeron admitted, "I'm afraid the works in the past weeks had got the better of me."

"That's unfortunate, your grace," said Lord Celtigar, "But is it wise to mend your fatigue with wine?"

"I would've walked to a sept or the castle's godswood for peace and guidance, my lord, but I'm afraid I'm too lazy to do either." Daeron chuckled.

Lord Celtigar didn't respond. He seemed thoughtful of something. "Are you planning to drink alone, your grace?"

"Not anymore, my lord," said Daeron as he gave Lord Celtigar one of the cups, "I hope you enjoy the Dornish Red."

"I don't care, either way, your grace, for I don't usually partake in carousings," said Lord Celtigar as he took the goblet, and Daeron poured him wine, "But I cannot refuse the king's request, so I shall party with you before the coming hour."

"Cheers, then," said Daeron as he raised his goblet.

"Not so fast, your grace. Mayhap you could also add another thing I have with myself," The ghost of a smug smile appeared on Lord Celtigar's face but soon vanished so that his stern face could again take over. He carefully opened his purse and, from there, pulled out a small bottle. A bottle made of silver and Daeron could see small engravings carved all around it.

"You carry that all around, my lord?" Daeron asked.

"No, your grace, I only use it on special occasions."

"Oh?" Daeron raised an eyebrow, "What kind of ale is that special that you seldom use it, my lord?"

"Who said it was ale?" said Lord Celtigar as he raised from his seat, walking towards Daeron, "Do you remember your royal visit to Claw Isle, your grace?"

Of course, he remembered it. It was mayhaps one of the most peculiar events of his life. The isle, gloomier than even Dragonstone, was barren with no traces of life, neither nautical nor rural. "I do. What about it?"

"Then I gather you also recall the secret hall?" Daeron nodded at that. That was not something Daeron remembered fondly. At the end of his visit, Lord Celtigar brought him and his wife, Lady Celtigar, into a secret room deep within the castle, the room was a stairwell into a cave, where the flow of a small spring shone brightly, and a basin mirror placed in the middle of that spring. Daeron does not remember much of what happened there.

"My lady wife was ofttimes ill and unwell. There was no cure for what monstrosity withered her from within, and no mage nor physician would even bother trying to treat her. This bottle in my hand contains a potion, a brew especially made to wane pain. My lady wife consumed this and was at ease, even though she was dying simultaneously with your visit."

"Like the milk of the poppy?" Daeron asked concernedly.

"No, this is a benumber. It is to deprive the consumer of any physical or emotional feeling," Lord Celtigar explained, "It is more superior than the milk of the poppy, which is more of a painkiller." He handed over the bottle.

Daeron received the bottle and studied it cautiously. The engravings on it read for a mysterious tongue, unknown to him. But they definitely resembled an alphabetic system. Lord Celtigar noticed Daeron's discomfort as he spoke, "Go on, your grace, add it to your wine."

His words eased Daeron's mind as he opened the bottle and took it closer. He tried to sense a scent, but it smelt of nothing. Finally, he poured a bit of the potion into his goblet, and while he was at it, Lord Celtigar continued, "Pour more, your grace."

So, Daeron didn't decelerate and poured the potion entirely, emptying the bottle. He then stirred the wine and the brew together and drank the result. The taste was surprisingly sweet. However, its sweetness had a tense sourness underneath. As if someone had blended sweet lemons with bitter oranges.

Daeron felt the liquid swimming down from his throat. He turned to Lord Celtigar, "How much time before it started affecting?"

"Usually three to four minutes, your grace."

"That fast?" Daeron asked as he put the bottle away.

Lord Celtigar smirked as he sat again, "Unbelievable, but true nonetheless."

"Who brew this potion for you, my lord? I doubt you would be as skilled in the art of medicine."

A moment of silence passed betwixt them as Daeron pondered if he should not have asked such a question. Although Lord Celtigar deemed to answer, "I gathered the ingredients myself, if that makes a false assurance for you, your grace. And an Essosi herbalist brewed them after I accepted him into my custody. He was flying away from his debts to a Prince of Pentos."

"An Essosi herbalist of Pentos from whence he had fled?" Daeron raised an eyebrow, "A fugitive never brings anything but problems, my lord." All the Essosi mistresses of the prurient Targaryens concur with my case, he mused.

"Well, too bad I didn't say anything before giving you the drink," said Lord Celtigar, not so apologetically.

With that, silence took over betwixt them as Daeron's thoughts again turned bitter.

"Why do you enforce mayhem so much over yourself, sire?" said Lord Celtigar.

"'A king should never sit easy...'"

"Said King Aegon, the first of his name, when sitting on the Iron Throne," Lord Celtigar completed the famous quote.

Daeron helplessly chuckled. It was a sign of Lord Celtigar's stubbornness. As if the two have a whole day free to talk about Daeron's mental problems. But despite his rationality, his sensitive mind, currently awoken by the amount of alcohol, ordered Daeron to open his mouth and talk, "Fine, my lord, I'll surrender: what grieves me is my father. Precisely, his memory."

"Memories can be haunting, especially if they are of bygone days, days one can never live again." Lord Celtigar spoke, and Daeron wagered out of experience. The master of whisperer's eyes drifted towards his own hands, hands always covered in leather gloves. "When I was a child, my lord father intended me to get fostered in Driftmark with the Velaryons. I was no more than six-name-days at the time."

"Was Lord Velaryon not a good foster father?" Daeron asked.

"I wouldn't know, your grace, for I spent only a full day on Driftmark."

Daeron raised an eyebrow, "For whatever reason, my lord?"

"Lord Velaryon's eldest son, the new lord of Driftmark, was the same age as I," said Lord Celtigar, "I remember he came to greet me when my ship anchored in Driftmark. Even from the start, I could see detest in his eyes towards me. Later that day, we sparred in the courtyards, and I won the match. After I bested him on the prowess, he began assaulting me vocally. Saying: 'despite claiming to be of Valyrian heritage, you look more like a clawmen than a silvered dragonlord.' In my young and foolish mindset, I had to defend my name. Hence, we started beating each other. When Lord Velaryon found out about this, he had me sent back to Claw Isle to rot in the knowledge that people compare me with the clawmen."

"What's so hateful in being compared to clawmen that drove you to beat your peer?" Daeron asked.

Lord Celtigar turned to him, but his eyes were gazing at his hair with great yearning. "My forefathers had a gift, your grace, and were foolish enough to lose it. Marriages upon marriages with our peers finally weakened our veins and made us truly insignificant."

Daeron frowned, "Is this why you want to marry Princess Daena, my lord?" he asked while feeling a new sensation forming in his head.

"Yes, your grace," he answered bluntly, "I bear no interest for her, let alone be fond of her. In fact, if possible, I would've married one of her sisters: Rhaena would've been meek and submissive. Alas, she's a septon now, and Elaena wouldn't have opposed my intentions. She was a foster child of your grandsire, after all. And we all know how concerned he was of his heritage, like his father, the Rogue Prince."

Daeron ground his teeth, "How dare you?" he asked bitterly, his head aching from the new sensation. The potion was starting to affect. I don't want to lose my senses right now, he mused.

The pain must have looked crystal clear on his face that Lord Celtigar could notice it, "Oh, but let's not dwell on matters that neither you nor I could do anything about, sire. In about one hour, I will marry Princess Daena, whether for love or her eyes and hair colour. Let's focus on your conditions right now."

"What poison had you bestowed upon me?" said Daeron, "My head is aflame, and my mind is unable to think coherently."

"'Tis only what you agreed to drink, my liege; a depriver of any thought and think. I told you as such when I poured it into your goblet."

Daeron now felt weaker as he could hardly sustain himself from falling onto his desk. "I thought this was to cease my exhaustion, not pain me even more!"

"Let's ease it then," said Lord Celtigar as he slowly raised from his seat and a sense of menace took over the solar as he walked past the desk to Daeron's side. He descended his hand into his purse and brought out a stiletto.

Daeron's tired eyes widened, "What are you doing, my lord?"

"Heeding your request, your grace. We should get the pain out someway. Either endure it throughout the night, or we will get it out through your blood."

Daeron didn't need consideration. He gave his hand to him freely and witnessed as Lord Celtigar pushed Daeron's hand onto the desk and tilted the stiletto closer.

Daeron closed his eyes and felt a sudden rush of blood and pain. He wanted to scream, yet he realised Lord Celtigar had put a hand on his mouth.

He opened his eyes a minute later and turned to his hand to see blood everywhere while three of his fingers were missing.

Lord Celtigar removed his hands, but Daeron didn't scream, despite how much he desired to. He inhaled, taking slow breaths to adjust to the pain.

"You did well, your grace, very well indeed," said Lord Celtigar, "How are you feeling?" He tried to sound concerned, but in Daeron's eyes, it only seemed apathetic.

Daeron exhaled, his mind only focused on one thing, "Where are my fingers?"

"Nowhere for you to concern, your grace," Lord Celtigar answered, "the important thing is that you are feeling well again

"I do not feel that well, my lord..."

Lord Celtigar interrupted him by putting a hand on his face again, "Hush, your grace. Do not waste your remaining force, in fact, I prescribe for you to stay here and sleep."

Daeron again looked at his lost fingers, "A hand without three fingers does not look good at all."

Lord Celtigar nodded as he put out one of his leather gloves and handed it to Daeron, "Put this on, your grace. I imagine you would feel more comfortable seeing leather instead of your hands."

Daeron looked for a second at Lord Celtigar's hands which were scarce of three fingers, and then took the glove and wore it. He put his hands on his face and sighed from his exhaustion.

He did not notice when the master of whisperers left the solar.

----

Daenerys gazed over the long veil covering her aunt's sullen face. Although, Aunt Daena was not her real aunt. In truth, she was her father's cousin. But she was always more of an aunt to Daenerys than her mother, Queen Naerys ever was.

Since childhood, Daenerys spent many a night with Aunt Daena rather than her septa or mother. Sometimes, Princess Elaena would join them too. But she became aloof and detached after the death of Lord Alyn and took shelter in his memories in a lonely corner of the palace. Until she married her love, Michael Manwoody, and went to live the rest of her life without associating herself with the insane clan that it called House Targaryen.

Aunt Daena never wanted to marry; she always stated she should have been the wife of the Young Dragon, and then she was wedded by Baelor the Blessed. And since her status as a former queen determines greater standing than a mere princess, then there is no man worthy to be her husband.

Well, how did that turn out? Daenerys thought as she observed the handmaidens helping her aunt wearing her bridal cloak. In all but ten minutes, she will be married off to Lord Cedryc Celtigar, the lord of nothing but a little crab isle, according to Daemon. It must be painful for her aunt to swear upon love to a person she despises without ever seeing him.

All these made Daenerys think wary thoughts: what can she do should she fail to love her betrothed? Prince Lotaryon had not even spoken a word to her during the weeks he had whoring in brothels and making animosities with Aenyx. How could Daenerys ever come to love him?

She shook her head, she should not be thinking of such grim thoughts. Daenerys turned to Aunt Daena, who looked equally upset and saddened. Mayhaps a compliment will change her mood for her? "You look stunning, your grace." In contrast to what she did in her mind, Daenerys was not allowed to call Aunt Daena 'aunt' in her presence.

"I always do, dear," said her aunt nonchalantly.

Well, that attempt proved futile, Daenerys thought. She decided to succumb to silence. Her aunt always talked to her harshly, but it was always out of the kindness of her heart. However, when she spoke with such a nonchalant tone, it meant that even Daenerys' charms could not heal her depression.

"Why are you frowning, your grace?" Daenerys asked, "I imagine wedding days are the most joyous for a bride."

Aunt Daena huffed, "Don't pretend you're a fool, dear. Foolishness is boring, and I don't need someone bore me to death on this already tedious evening."

After that, the room fell into silence again. Daenerys did not like that at all. Silence made her think of troublesome thoughts, and she had enough of her thoughts for the moment. So, she opened her mouth to speak again. However, a knock on the door stopped her.

"Come in," said her aunt.

The door was opened, and from the other side, Daemon emerged. A smile instantly found its way to Daenerys' face. Daemon bowed to Aunt Daena and greeted her. Then, his eyes drifted to Daenerys, and she saw a shadow of ultimate despair concealing his eyes. "Princess," he greeted her coldly.

Daenerys shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Embarrassed at how his brother welcomed him, she turned her eyes to Aunt Daena's dress.

"What is it, Daemon?" said her aunt.

"Lord Celtigar is here, mother," said Daemon, "We... we are waiting for you."

Aunt Daena sighed, "Well, isn't that great?" she said sarcastically as she raised from her seat, "Let's get on with it then. Did the king look pleased, my son?"

"The king... is not attending, mother," said Daemon as he clenched his feast, "None truly knows why, but it seems he was last attended by Lord Celtigar, but I couldn't get from him why my brother has refused to attend the wedding he had sat up."

Aunt Daena pursed her lips as she moved forward and put a hand on Daemon's shoulders, "I'll tell you why, because he despises me. He despises me, and he despises you. He's marrying me to a crablord to humiliate us!"

That's not true, Daenerys thought to herself but reluctantly did not speak. It wasn't her place to jump into a mother and her son's discussion.

"Why would he do that? The king loves me as a brother," said Daemon, albeit he sounded uncertain at his words.

"All signs add up, Daemon," said Aunt Daena, "The king is trying to eliminate his siblings. I've heard he had the Blackwood bastards sent back to Raventree Hall. That could not be a coincidence."

"'Twas Aenyx's doing as far as I know..." Daemon started.

"How can a seven-year-old child orchestrate a trial against his own siblings? No, Daeron is staging events, I'm sure of it," said Aunt Daena. She turned a half eye towards Daenerys and her handmaidens and muttered a curse under her breath as if she suddenly had realised they were present in the room. "But enough of dreadful matters. It is my wedding day and I have my fair share of those already."

Daemon agreed with her silently. "So, you are ready then?"

Aunt Daena let out a sigh, "Yes, I am," she held high of her hands, "Do me a favour, son, and accompany me to the aisle."

Daemon did not hesitate to take her mother's hand. The handmaidens rushed to carry the bride's train and Daenerys did not attempt to communicate with Daemon as she rose to open the door wide enough for all the people to exit.

The company, thus, walked straight into the main hall of the Sept of Baelor, as they had been in one of the rooms ironically dedicated to the Maiden.

Daenerys observed those who had bothered to attend the wedding, and, unfortunately, their numbers were short. Aunt Daena wouldn't like that, she thought anxiously. In the lowest rank of the chairs, Daenerys saw Ser Quentyn Ball and Aegor Rivers, her most estranged of siblings, whom none had seen in days. He probably attended only because he was feeling bliss with Brynden's departure.

After them, there were the members of the small council and their immediate families. None of them looked grateful to attend Princess Daena Targaryen's wedding. Although, Lord Royce did seem honoured, at least.

And finally, after them stood her family. Not Aunt Daena's but Daenerys'. She felt bad that none of her aunt's family lived to see her wedding, although, with who the groom was, Daenerys wagered they wouldn't be happy for Aunt Daena at all.

Speaking of the devil, Daenerys' eyes fell on Lord Celtigar, and she suddenly felt a sudden run of shivers as his eyes, for a brief moment, fell on her.

She turned her eyes away toward Aunt Daena. Her features were unreadable, and Daenerys was impressed at how elegant she looked, even if, deep down, she was disgusted by who her husband-to-be was.

The handmaidens let go of Aunt Daena's train as Daemon gave her hand to Lord Celtigar and she ascended the aisle and stood before her husband-to-be. The High Septon was between the two, holding a book of the Seven-Pointed Star. The handmaidens quickly ran off, and Daenerys sat in the nearest place possible, beside her nephew, the little Maekar. Daemon soon joined her, and then, the ceremony officially began.

Throughout the ceremony, Daenerys tried to speak and reassure Daemon through her eyes, but every time they looked at each other, he rejected her. And so, Daenerys, lonely and sad, yielded to the thought that Daemon had shunned her away only because she is not a bastard. Wouldn't I be a wonderful bastard? Daenerys Waters, the result of the king's lovemaking outside of wedlock.

Aunt Daena said her vows with spite in her voice, whereas Lord Celtigar spoke with apathy. And after an undesirable kiss, both walked down the aisle, hand in hand. No one cheered for them as the new bride and groom exited the sept to return for the feast in the Red Keep.

----

Aenyx was in the great hall, observing as yet another feast, although more lacklustre, was taking place. What made Aenyx furious was the absence of the king himself. The king made him a court jester and did not even care to see what a jokester Aenyx had become. Although to be fair, my jokes won't be a sight of laughter. He had purposefully written prepared bad jokes so that none of the guests would take a laugh out of this feast.

"And now, the 'four silly persons' will deliver jokes!" the announcer boomed the hall, announcing the name Aerys had chosen for them. The four silly persons.

Aenyx looked over his companions: Aerys was anxious; Ser Selvy was frowning and Valter was excited. "Are you ready?" he asked them. Aerys opened his mouth but Aenyx interrupted him, "Doesn't matter, we're going in."

And thus, the four walked into the hall's centre, where everyone could watch them. On the centre of the main table, Lord Celtigar and an awake Princess Daena were sitting. In their right, sat his brother, Daemon, and after him, Daenerys and then, Aenyx's nephew, Maekar.

On another table, sat all the lords who looked down upon Aenyx. Indeed, everything screamed for a bad night for everyone.

At last, they did their performances. And 'booed' and were paid with the guests throwing food at them as the four shamefully exited the hall.

"Well, that wasn't fun at all," said Aenyx.

"At least you got what you wanted, uncle," said Aerys, "Mayhaps if we had spent some time making better jokes then we wouldn't get destroyed."

"Hush, now." Aenyx walked past the gates. The hallway was empty. "Where do you think the guardsmen are?"

"Most of them are inside the great hall, my prince, and I wager some of them decided to guard his grace the king's solar and the others were dispatched in other areas, living here guardless," Ser Selvy explained.

"Well, it seems circumstances our favourable for our act, my friend," said Aenyx.

"What act, uncle?" said Aerys.

Aenyx turned to him, and a thought sparked in his head. He couldn't drag Aerys into his murder scheme. He would never agree to kill his uncle, even though this Martell uncle of his had threatened his Targaryen uncle to death. But what to do with Aerys? "Forget about the act, nephew. There's something else I need you to do."

"Oh? What is it?"

"I need you to keep an eye on Lord Celtigar. Do you think you can do it?"

Aerys did not answer at first, clearly thinking. Then he beamed at Aenyx, "Yes, I believe I can, uncle. I bid you farewell then," he said as he opened the hall's door and disappeared before Aenyx's eyes.

Aenyx turned to his companies, "Alright you two, it is time to set my plan in motion. We need to kill Prince Lotrayon."

"Kill him?" Ser Selvy asked, "But my prince, that's a dishonourable act."

Aenyx sighed. "Ser, wasn't it dishonourable of him to cut your throat? He would have me killed if it wasn't for you. He will strike us again, so let's end him now."

"But what is your plan, my prince?" Valter asked.

"Simple, Valter: We corner Prince Lotaryon and murder him," said Aenyx, "Although we must first find him."

"He wasn't in the hall, my prince," said Ser Selvy.

"And I did not see him in the castle this morning," said Valter.

Aenyx stroked his chin, "Hmm, so that leaves only his brothel. We must head there right now, perchance we could find him in an embarrassing state." With that, all three walked out of the castle. When they entered the courtyard, the only light they could see was from the moonlight itself. All torches were strangely off and guardsmen were apparently asleep. Beyond embarrassing, Aenyx mused.

Suddenly amidst the silence of the night, a figure approached from the gates, singing, "I'll have my laddie, drunken, I'll have my wench…" his singing was stopped by the sound of him throwing up.

Well, isn't that convenient? Aenyx thought as he recognised the drunken voice of Prince Lotaryon. He turned toward his companions, "We found him, my friends. Let's end him."

The three walked forward to the prince as Aenyx faked a wide smile, "Look who has decided to show his face: the Prince of Dorne himself, Lotaryon the White Sand!"

Prince Lotaryon's red eyes shone in confusion as he looked up at him, "Prince Aenyx?" he frowned but then beamed, "Prince Aenyx! Oh, what a delight. And Ser Selvy is here too?! I'm glad you survived my sword, ser knight. And what's more, Lord Mooton! I shall apologise to you, my lord. For I aspired to have you killed."

"Think none of it, my prince. Attempts to murder me are always on my schedule."

Now it was Aenyx's turn to frown, not because of Valter but because of the Dornish prince. "My prince, you sound awfully nice today."

Prince Lotaryon walked closer and put his hands on Aenyx's shoulders. Aenyx saw a blade in the sheath by his belt. "I've had something of a revelation, my prince. While I was drinking my wine while my lover kissed my neck, I realised how bad of a guest I had been to my Targaryen relatives. Especially to you, my prince. For which I sincerely apologise. Mayhaps we can reconcile with a round of drinks on me?"

Aenyx did not take his eyes away from the blade, "Oh, I would quite like that, my prince. You won my heart with your warm words. However, I cannot possibly have you pay while I am your host, now can I?"

Prince Lotaryon thought for a second, "Well, I believe so, yes."

Aenyx then smiled wickedly, "Then, my prince, allow me to ask you a question as your host," he said every word while cautiously glancing at the blade, "Can I invite you to die?"

Before Prince Lotaryon could utter, 'What?' Aenyx took the blade from his belt and shoved it in his belly. The Dornish prince's mouth fell agape as he exhaled a breath but was unable to inhale another. Aenyx turned to Ser Selvy, "Now!" and with that, Ser Selvy unsheathed his sword and beheaded Prince Lotaryon. His head fell before Aenyx, and he took his hands off of the dead man's body to let it fall too.

For a minute, all three stared at the corpse that lay dead before them. "Gods!" said Ser Selvy, "We killed the Prince of Dorne!"

"We did, didn't we?" said Aenyx. He did not feel disgusted by himself for partaking in a murder. He oft had heard that finding the spirit and the courage to take a man's life was a struggle in itself. But he did not feel any struggle, perhaps it was because of his blind hatred of Prince Lotaryon that made it easy. Either way, he was a murderer now, at the age of seven. "We must do something we this corpse."

"You mean burry him, my prince?" said Ser Selvy.

Aenyx turned to him, "No, do something with him."

"Oh, I know!" said Valter, "Perhaps we could sell his body to a merchant from Asshai? I've heard people do dark things over there."

"We cannot do that, Valter, but your words gave me an idea: we should tear this corpse to pieces."

"Why?" Ser Selvy asked.

"To further humiliate him, obviously."

Ser Selvy looked worried, "My prince, can we first get out of here? I fear someone might see us."

"Hmm, you're not wrong to assume as such. Alright then, you and Valter take the body while I take the head," said Aenyx as he fell on one knee and picked the dead man's head, "Hello, Prince Lotaryon, how does it feel to be dead?" He expected no answer of course.

Then the three began to walk, with Valter and Ser Selvy holding the corpse and Aenyx playing with the head. Now, where to go? Aenyx thought as he looked over the courtyard. His eyes drifted to a dark corner covered with wild bushes. "Come along. We should get to that bush over there."

The three thus walked into the dark corner. It was between two sets of walls, one was a part of the bailey while the other was the wall attached to the kitchen. As a result of being in the middle of the two, the corner could not receive any light, even from the moon.

They placed the corpse right between the bushes and themselves sat down. "Right, now, unsheathe your sword, ser and cut this corpse into pieces."

"My prince, I don't think that's practical," said Ser Selvy.

"Of course it is. Look at his feet, they are out of the bush. Cut them and save us a murder scandal," said Aenyx.

Ser Selvy reluctantly picked his sword, "We could have avoided a scandal had we let him live," he murmured.

"Well, we did not. Now get back to work."

Ser Selvy then cut the corpse's feet and placed them on its belly.

"Now that wasn't hard, was it?" Aenyx rhetorically asked as he raised and walked out of the bush. "Come on, friends. It is time we return to my nephew."

At that, the three left the bush and did not look back.

----

Daena sipped his drink and felt miserable. On his right, sat his husband, Cedryc Celtigar, who had not spoken a word to her the whole night. While on his left, sat Daemon, also quite silent in these past hours. Everything felt like a set-up for something worse, and Daena could not help but indulge in drinks to flee from the harsh truth that she was a married woman.

Lord Lannister the bald walked into the centre of the hall. "Now, my lord and your grace, it is a known fact that I was against your marriage. But setting here all night, witnessing your burning love for each other, I cannot help but ask for a bedding ceremony!"

"Not so fast, Lannister," said Lord Tully, "I don't think there's a living creature who wants to see Lord Celtigar naked. And despite how much we try, I'm sure the princess would have our hands cut should they search for unappropriated places. I don't want to get my hands close to this couple at all."

At that, her husband raised, "My lords, I thank you for your comments. Now, if you allow me, my lady wife and I need to rest." His hand fell on her shoulder and he coerced Daena to raise too.

"A toast to Lord Celtigar and Princess Daena!" Lord Tyrell cried.

"HUZZAH!" the hall shouted and people began drinking.

While they were busy drinking, Lord Celtigar dragged Daena to walk out. She gasped and only managed to exchange a glance with her son before she found herself on the path to Lord Celtigar's chambers. "Let me free," she ordered and he obeyed. As she found herself freed, she started walking faster than her lord husband to reach his chambers. Once there, she laid down on the bed and covered herself with fur.

Not long after, Lord Celtigar entered his chambers and looked at her, "Do you like your new chambers, my lady?"

"I'm a princess, my lord, you better remember that," she snapped. She realised their first conversation ended as quickly as it started.

Lord Celtigar was unmoved by her words. He walked towards a wooden desk and picked a small silvery bottle. "Wine?"

"Yes," Daena reluctantly answered.

Her lord husband poured some of that wine into a goblet and brought it to her. She accepted the goblet and drank it. The wine's sweet taste felt bitter in her mouth. Everything about the man before him felt bitter. She looked at him, "If you expect my resistance to wane with wine, you are mistaken, my lord."

"I expect no such thing, my lady." Daena ground her teeth. The man was trying to provoke her. "In fact, you better rest after this tiring night."

Daena huffed. If he was trying to endear her to him, he would better realise she would not fall so easily. Still, she could use a long sleep. For her head felt dizzy. "Then I bid you goodnight, my lord."

"Not yet, my lady," he said, "I need your assistance on something."

Daena raised an eyebrow. She wasn't sure she had heard him right. "Assistance on what, my lord?"

Lord Celtigar did not answer him right away, "Give me your hand please," he said and she obeyed.

He ran his fingers on her palm and then turned to her, "How do you feel, your grace?"

Daena was surprised that he actually referred to her with her title. "I feel confused, my lord."

"There is no need to be confused, your grace." Daena saw his hand moving towards his belt, "Let your mind run free. I know behind your eyes, lays worry and caution."

Suddenly, she saw in his hand a blade. She was enthralled by its design, so much so that she did not find the strength to ask why he wielded a blade. "I will free you of your confusion, your grace." He said as he slowly touched her palm with the blade. Daena felt blood rushing out of her palm and looked at her lord husband with worry. He in turn, only smiled.

He put the blade aside, and then opened his purse on his belt. From there, he brought out three fingers. He ran the fingers through her blood and smile wickedly at her, "I thank you, my lady. I leave you to rest now. Sleep, for the night is dark and full of terrors." He put two of his fingers on her chest and pushed her downwards. Daena found no strength to resist and as her head touched the pillow, she fell asleep.

 

[Tenart]

"The corpse must not be older than a night, your grace," said Ser Gwayne Corbray, the discoverer of Prince Lotaryon's corpse.

Daeron gazed at the horrible state of the corpse, legs removed, head cut and a wound in the belly. "If we consider that the body was hidden in the bushes of the courtyard then the murder couldn't have killed him outside of this region," he concluded and turned to Ser Gwayne, "Did anyone witness the act, ser?"

"I'm afraid not, your grace," Ser Gwayne answered, "Servants all were either in the great hall or in the kitchen and the guardsmen were distributed unevenly, so it is unlikely any of them was at this place to see the murder."

"Still, I want you to question everyone," Ser Gwayne nodded at that. Daeron turned toward a page, "Call for the members of the small council, lad. Tell them it is an emergency."

"Even Lord Celtigar, your grace?" At the mention of his name, Daeron's eyes fell on the leather glove he still wore. He couldn't recall many events of the last night, but he remembered Lord Celtigar and his missing fingers.

"Yes, even him." With that, the page ran off. Daeron himself began marching towards the small council chambers, he hoped to arrive there just in time with his wife so that he could deliver the heartbreaking news in private.

His wish was not to be realised, however, for as he reached the chambers, he saw his council already arriving, "My lords, welcome," he greeted them with disdain. Surprisingly, Lord Celtigar seemed both well-rested and dressed eloquently whereas Lord Lannister's outfit was something betwixt a nightgown and a formal garb.

"Your grace, what urgent matter has occurred?" said Lord Royce.

"Unfortunately, while we feasted in Lord Celtigar's wedding celebration, someone murdered Prince Lotaryon of Dorne." To think that Daeron spent all those time negotiating with him to marry Daenerys.

Lord Royce exchanged looks with Lord Lannister and Lord Tully, all three at least seemed distraught. "Your grace," Lord Celtigar spoke, "I will begin the investigations as soon as possible."

"Why?" said Lord Lannister, "Finding the killer is not the main course of action here."

"That's the only course of action we can take, my lord," said Daeron.

"No, your grace, there are far more important things we should take into consideration with this murder," said Lord Tully.

Daeron frowned, "What could possibly be more important than finding a murderer who dwells in my castle?"

"See, right off the bat you're not asking the right questions, your grace."

"I'm not?" Daeron raised an eyebrow.

"No you see, the right question is: what should we do against the Dornish invasion?"

"Dornish invasion?" Daeron frowned in confusion, "Why would the Dornish invade us?"

"For the same reason why the Dothraki ransacked Sarnor, your grace," said Lord Lannister, "Some foolish peasant killed the heir of a khal, who was the guest of the Sarnor's king and led the wrath of the Dothraki to destroy those lands."

"You don't want the same to happen to us, now would you, your grace?" Lord Tully asked.

Daeron was baffled by his councillor's words, but as he was to disregard them, Lord Royce interrupted him, "If I may, your grace, I do agree to an extent to Lord Tully and Lord Lannister's argument. The Prince of Dorne will not be pleased with the murder of his son, who was a guest at your disposal. Although, even his wrath cannot outstep the alliance you share by blood. The best course of action I suggest is to dispatch an apology mission to formally apologise for the prince's death and hand over his remains to his father."

That idea was not as idiotic as Daeron expected, in fact, it was indeed the best thing to do in the current situation. I'm glad that I have chosen a great hand, he mused. "That's a great idea, my lord hand. But who should lead this mission? Mayhaps Prince Baelor and the queen?"

"A royal prince but without silver hair? The old prick would love it," said Lord Lannister.

"So, Prince Baelor would represent the union between the Martells and the Targaryens, that's good and all, but we also need a silver-haired prince to represent the might of dragons," said Lord Tully.

Daeron could agree with that, though he hoped they didn't mean to send Daemon to Dorne. "Who do you have in mind, my lord?"

"The obvious choice: Prince Aenyx."

For a second, Daeron refused to believe what he had heard. "Did you mean Prince Aerys, my lord? I'm sure he can charm them with his….er… knowledge of books."

"No, your grace, I meant exactly what I said: send Prince Aenyx."

Daeron jerked his face, "Why?"

"For several reasons, your grace," Lord Tully held his fingers high, "Prince Aenyx has the silver look, but is not the result of brother-sister lovemaking, thus would not gross out the Dornish, who seemed to not bother the wild oats of an affair. Moreover, he's a lovely young man, who, I believe will charm the Prince of Dorne, at least better than Prince Aerys."

Daeron's mouth was opened agape, "I cannot believe that you are serious at this moment, my lord. What charm does my brother possess? What talent other than breeding havoc?"

"If I may, your grace," said Lord Royce, "The mission must contain a silver-haired Targaryen as well. But could not send two sons whilst you have three brothers, of course only one of them is suitable for this mission: Prince Aenyx."

"It seems to me that the lot of you have decided to endorse Prince Aenyx in any way possible. Very well," Daeron sighed in defeat, "Prince Aenyx it shall be. Of course, the leading figure of this mission should still be Prince Baelor."

Lord Royce bowed, "A wise decision, your grace."

"If you say so."

***

"Can you believe it, Valter? We're finally out of this hellhole!" Aenyx cried in joy as Valter and Ser Selvy packed his belongings.

"I wouldn't have been this joyful, my prince," Ser Selvy whispered in his raspy voice, "We're heading to Dorne, that place has a reputation for killing Targaryens."

Aenyx raised an eyebrow, "Care to give a number for this claim, kind ser?"

"Two, my prince, which is not a lot, but it is still considerable."

Aenyx now snorted, "Well, from our adventures together, ser, I believe you can say that I'm quite invincible."

"At the cost of others satisfying themselves, my prince," said Valter but not with a sarcastic tone.

"Hey, I didn't ask them to sacrifice themselves, now did I?" Even though I did carve their way to feel pain, Aenyx left this part unsaid.

Knock! Knock!

"Someone is knocking on the door, my prince," said Valter.

"You don't say?" Aenyx made his way to the door and opened it.

A fat boy with a tabard of a red dragon walked into the house. Yes, please invite yourself in, Aenyx mused. "Milord! Milord!"

"What?"

"Prince Baelor awaits you."

"Ah, alright," Aenyx was anxious about sharing a trip with this nephew of all of them. Aerys could've been better. He noticed the boy was still standing there, "What?"

"I thought you might tip me, my prince?"

"Nope, get out." The page finally got out. Aenyx turned towards his companions, "Well, lads, you ready for our journey to Dorne?"

"Yes, my prince," Valter answered as he picked up some of the luggage, Ser Selvy did the same. Turns out their belongings were few; except for some outfits, Aenyx didn't own anything, and Valter and Ser Selvy each only had a small sack.

The three walked through the halls and arrived at the courtyard. Once there, he expected some people to come to bid their farewells with him, but he only saw his nephew Baelor getting recognition from his family members and everyone else alike. To be honest, it did make Aenyx feel terrible, he wondered if he was nicer to them, would they accept him? He and his companions then walked towards their carriage as Aenyx heard a sound: "UNCLE!"

Aenyx turned around and saw his nephew, Aerys, running towards him. "Nephew?! I…I did not think I would find you in my camp." He then remembered he had to keep a stern façade, "How come you're not with your brother? Prince Baelor seems to get along with everyone nicely."

"Oh, Baelor bid me his farewells earlier in my bedchambers, uncle," said Aerys, "Regardless, I thought I might say my goodbyes to you, and not only you but Valter and Ser Selvy. I will miss you terribly, you three are my only true friends."

"The feeling is mutual, nephew, for you are my only friend as well," said Aenyx, "Well, outside Ser Selvy and Valter."

"You both honour us, my princes," said Ser Selvy.

Valter turned to Aerys, "My prince, your kind words moved me greatly, what about when I'm in Dorne, I'll get you some souvenirs? As a token of my gratitude of course."

Aerys smiled brightly, "I would be very thankful, my lord."

The sound of a horn interrupted them all. "We are off to go!" cried Ser Gwayne Corbray to Baelor.

Aerys turned back to them, "I hope the three of you have a safe journey, my friends; may you return from my grandsire's seat with satisfying results."

"Thank you, nephew," Aenyx nodded in appreciation, then he turned to Valter and Ser Selvy, "Well, comrades, it is time for us to depart. Ser Selvy, I gather I'll be riding with?"

"If you prefer to, my prince."

"I do."

Thus, Ser Selvy helped Aenyx mount a horse, and he mounted it as well. Valter also took one of the brown palfreys. When Baelor and his entourage began riding out of the gates, Aenyx and his companions followed suit. Aenyx made the effort to look back once more before he left Red Keep completely, he felt relief and dread pour through his veins. He only could hope that he was not going to die.

***

"How are you faring, uncle?" Aerys turned his head to see Baelor riding next to him and Ser Selvy.

He frowned, why would his nephew ask about his feelings? "I am fine, nephew. Thanks for asking."

"I must say, uncle, I have never seen a child of seven namedays clutch to a horse so strongly and not get tired after four days." Indeed, it was four days after they departed King's Landing and Aenyx had dismounted the horse only to sleep. "Of course, it may be that you are in fact tired, but pretend not to be; if it's the case, then I can arrange for you to ride with the carriage." His tone was so sincere and yet, Aenyx could not help but doubt him.

"No need, nephew. I'm fine with Ser Selvy." That soon proved to be a lie, however.

Aenyx saw Valter nearing him, "My prince, I brought you the beverage you required for your hip pain," he brought a small bottle out of his purse.

"Hip pain?" Baelor asked, "We must stop and treat you, uncle, if you have hip pain."

Aenyx could feel his face flush, "No, I do not have hip pain, can we please continue?"

Baelor lingered but eventually agreed, "Fine, but do not keep your pains to yourself, uncle. I am tasked to bring you the best time of your life," He said as he directed his horse towards another direction.

Aenyx again frowned, that was weird. Why would Baelor be so concerned with him?

"Should I waste this beverage away, my prince?" Valter asked.

"No, give it to me."

Later in the day, Baelor again returned to Aenyx's side. "Look, uncle, can you see that castle over there?"

Aenyx followed his gaze and saw a tower coloured in pale grey stone abreast of the sea. "Yes, what about it?"

"That's where we shall spend the night, Storm's End." As he said the word, the sound of a thundering storm broke out in the sky.

"Well, that was on the nose, now wasn't it?" Aenyx mumbled.

After a thirty minutes ride, they reached the gates to Storm's End, which is definitely not a stupid name for a castle, Aenyx thought.

"My prince," Ser Selvy whispered, "Do you want me to dismount so that you won't come off as a child who needs help riding a horse."

"Ah, thank you for your kindness, ser, but no, I think I'll be fine just with you."

Aenyx expected something glorious as their caravan walked into the castle, but only encountered an empty courtyard with a cat sleeping on the ground.

Ser Selvy helped Aenyx to dismount. Aenyx then walked forward and investigated the emptied courtyard for no reason. His eyes drifted to the lying cat, "You at least bow to me, catty." He then saw Baelor walking up to him. "Nephew, where is the grand greeting? Must I always face an empty courtyard when I stumble upon a new location?"

"Do not worry, uncle, they mustn't see us coming."

A page boy appeared by the tower's long doors, looking dumbfounded. Baelor smiled at him, "Ah, greetings, lad. What is your name?"

The boy looked at them with widened eyes and did not speak for a second, "… Conrad Baratheon, the heir to Storm's End."

"Nice to meet you, Conrad. I am Prince Baelor Targaryen, son of his grace, King Daeron, the second of his name, and this is my youngest uncle, Prince Aenyx Targaryen."

Conrad then bowed, "I apologies, your graces, I did not recognise you."

"Think nothing of it, Conrad," said Baelor, "Would you inform your lord father that we have arrived?"

"Of course." He disappeared into the depths of the castle.

Aenyx turned to Baelor, "Should we follow him?"

Baelor shook his head, "No, I'm certain he went to inform Lord Baratheon of our arrival."

Minutes passed but Lord Baratheon did not appear. Conrad Baratheon, however, appeared at the great doors of the castle with raised eyebrows. "Your graces, please come in. My lord father awaits you."

"Ah, at once, my lord," said Baelor as he beckoned for his men to follow him. Aenyx sighed and with Ser Selvy and Valter walked towards the castle.

They walked through the castle's wide halls until they reached the main hall, where a man was sitting on a throne. He smiled at the sight of Baelor. "Ah, Prince Baelor Targaryen, you honour us with your sudden arrival."

"Lord Baratheon," Baelor greeted him.

Lord Baratheon's eyes suddenly drifted to Aenyx, "And who this might be? One of your brothers?"

"No, my lord," Baelor answered him, "This is my uncle, Prince Aenyx Targaryen."

"Ah," Lord Baratheon leaned back on his throne, "So, one of the bastards then."

Aenyx groaned, but before he could speak, Baelor interrupted him, "My lord, my uncle and I, and our caravan, have been riding for days. Would you kindly grant us a stay for the night?"

Lord Baratheon raised an eyebrow, "Might I ask for what reason you've been riding for days?"

"My maternal uncle… Prince Lotaryon of Dorne was found dead in the courtyards of Red Keep. Prince Aenxy and I were sent by his grace the king as a delegation to bring Prince Lotaryon's corpse to my grandfather, the Prince of Dorne and apologise to him for his tragic death."

Now Lord Baratheon smirked mockingly, "How confounding that his grace the king sought to have the heir to Dorne in his coronation but did not deem me worthy of even sending an invitation."

Baelor looked worriedly at Aenyx and then turned to Lord Baratheon. He probably wanted to apologise to the fat lord. Well, Aenyx wouldn't let him.

"You did not get an invitation, my lord," he started, "Only because the maester forgot to send you one. My brother the king always speaks fondly of you and I'm sure he is much saddened that you could not attend his coronation," Aenyx lied.

"Oh?" said Lord Baratheon, "Are you sure of his grace's fondness for me, boy? For I've yet to meet him once in my life."

Aenyx froze. His lie did not last long, unfortunately. Luckily for him, Baelor had something to say in his defence, "I'm sure my uncle has mistaken your lord father for you, my lord. My father does speak fondly of the old Lord Dorrel and I wager he would come to like you as much as he did with him."

Lord Baratheon burst into laughing then. "Gods let hope so, my prince," he raised from his seat, "You are welcome to stay in our castle as much as you like. I shall arrange our best rooms for our two royal princes."

"Your efforts are appreciated, my lord," said Baelor.

Not by me, Aenyx thought bitterly.

***

By nightfall, Aenyx's caravan had taken their places in the castle and Aenyx himself found himself wandering in the lonely hallways of Storm's End. He was searching alone, for both Valter and Ser Selvy were preoccupied with other activities, namely, sleeping.

As Aenyx walked around and explore the castle, he stumbled upon a hall with an open view as a giant window. He walked into the hall, of course, and studied the various artefacts that were placed there like historical items in a museum. The light of the night shone through the giant window into the hall, its purple light reflected upon the artefacts and on Aenyx himself.

"I gather you're having a pleasant night, uncle?" asked the voice of Baelor. Aenyx startled and looked at him, seeing his nephew hidden in the shadowy corner of the hall and slowly creeping towards the light, his purple eyes becoming more prominent under the moonlight.

"Greetings, nephew," said Aenyx cautiously, "Having trouble with sleeping like I?"

"You may call it that, but I simply like the comforting silence of the night. Although, I have heard that one might find sleeping difficult if guilt torments him," said Baelor as he walked towards Aenyx.

Aenyx, however, took a step back to put further space between the two. You seem to be quite displeased by me, nephew, though I wonder why? He lied to himself. He exactly knew why Baelor was angry with him, it was because of the whole Blackwood fiasco. Aenyx separated Baelor from his to-be-lover, Myra, and his nephew grew a grudge against him. Wonderful.

Aenyx turned his eyes towards one of the ancient armours, "This place smells like history, doesn't it nephew?" He tried to change the subject.

"Indeed it does, uncle," said Baelor as his eyes drifted to the armour, "In these very halls, Prince Aemond Targaryen invited his nephew, Prince Lucerys. To an uneven fight."

Aenyx frowned in confusion, but let Baelor continue, "Of course, their fight was not on the ground, with swords and spears, but in the skies with the roaring dragons."

"Dragons, you say?" Aenyx chuckled nervously, "I wonder who had the upper hand, the nephew or the uncle?"

"The uncle, uncle," Baelor's eyes were fixed on Aenyx, "Prince Aemond tore Prince Lucerys and his dragon apart. He killed his nephew."

Aenyx now found himself leaning forcefully on a wall. Baelor couldn't be clearer with his words, he wants to kill me. He noticed Baelor was again walking towards him with a faked concern look printed in his eyes, but Aenyx wasn't fooled by him and moved in the opposite direction of him. "Well, nephew," he said as he tried to exit the hall, "I think we had quite a night here, eh? Alas, I feel much tired."

"Oh, well, then, good night, uncle. Be watchful for storms striking."

Aenyx did not even turn to look at his nephew and quickly left the hall for his bedchambers.

***

By the afternoon of the next day, the caravan was ready to depart. Aenyx and his companions and Baelor's entourage all stood by Storm's End gates.

"On behalf of my father, my lord, I thank you for welcoming us into your house," said Baelor to Lord Baratheon.

"Don't speak of it, my prince," said the lord with a bright smile, "I'm sure his grace the king will remember our pleasant encounter."

Aenyx eyed Baelor and did not like to be left behind, "I would like to express my gratitude also, my lord."

The mere cold look of Lord Baratheon erupted shivers in him, and Aenyx thought he could melt away in humiliation.

Lord Baratheon turned to Baelor, "I wish for you a good journey, my prince. Send my best regards for his grace the king and tell him I await his royal tour to Storm's End."

"Thank you, my lord. Farewell."

And with that their caravan began to ride. Aenyx constantly gazed back at Baelor, who always seemed to be in a conversation with someone, his devious smile enchanting whoever descended upon him. Aenyx knew his nephew aspired to have him killed. But Aenyx was cleverer than Baelor, he would hunt him before his nephew could become the hunter. He already had done that with the Dornish prince, had he not? What's the difference between these two?

No one could belittle Aenyx, and he will prove it to Baelor before this journey ends.

Suddenly a rush of pain hit him. "Valter!" Aenyx shouted, "My hip hurts!"