Aenyx the Insane (A ASOIAF story)

[Tenart]

What the fuck is this shit?! Oh my god the insanity. Fucking dammit

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I mean, I know my story has elements of insanity, but what made you have this reaction. (And is it good or is it bad?)

 

[Jeff]

Im so lost but its funny

 

[Unfortunate_Soul]

I don't like this MC. It seems that if he goes to Kings Landing then he'll only be used and spat out by others.

 

[Tenart]

I don't like this MC. It seems that if he goes to Kings Landing then he'll only be used and spat out by others.

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Correct me if I'm wrong but I believe you are on the first few chapters. I can confidently say that he won't have a good time in King's Landing, but I hope by then you would come to like his immorality and assholeness. Because the point of the story is that he would slowly become a sociopath in Westeros and eventually will become insane.
Thanks for the comment!

 

[Tunak23]

What a discovery you've won me over easily,haven't read such an interesting asoiaf story in a very long time.

Hilarious but also fascinating to finally explore once again Daeron's reign with all the obvious shaenninghans that will lead(or not) to the First Blackfyre Rebellion.

Aenyx fits King's Landing like a glove he is truly chaos personified plus you kinda are like the first fic writer that has dedicated time to Prince Aerys I as a character,the interactions between the two and the rest of Aenyx's gang are pure gold.

 

[Tenart]

What a discovery you've won me over easily,haven't read such an interesting asoiaf story in a very long time.

Hilarious but also fascinating to finally explore once again Daeron's reign with all the obvious shaenninghans that will lead(or not) to the First Blackfyre Rebellion.

Aenyx fits King's Landing like a glove he is truly chaos personified plus you kinda are like the first fic writer that has dedicated time to Prince Aerys I as a character,the interactions between the two and the rest of Aenyx's gang are pure gold.

Click to shrink...

You have no idea how happy your comment made me feel! Thank you!

I'm glad that you liked Aenyx and his gang's character. It was very important for me that the readers would come to like my main cast (Which rather than having household names such as Bloodraven and Daemon have Aerys the biblophile.)

 

[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.

 

[Tunak23]

Poor Daena,Daemon Blackfyre better start rescuing her cause with Celtigar by her side there is no way we will have much left of the Defiant.

More like Daena "The walking zombie" will be her next self.

 

[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!"