6 Chapter 6: The Rogue Prince

Red Keep - Throne room…

Prince Daemon felt as if here were made for sitting in the Seven Kingdoms' seat of all power and dominion. The Iron Throne - forged from the blades of Aegon the Conqueror's fallen enemies - the influence to sway the lords and humble his vassals through his commands would sweep across the nation, just as it was made possible by House Targaryen's ancestors. Of course, what made him different from his older brother King Viserys, Daemon was aware of which blades of the seat were sharp and which were dull, so he avoided cutting himself on the throne.

Dealing with political bureaucracy bored him, and council sessions irritated him since most of Viserys's advisors sided with his Hand… Although his brother tried to accommodate him with the roles of Master of Laws and Master of Coin, Daemon was nevertheless dismissed from office both times. He felt it was Otto Hightower who planted the seeds of doubts in his brother's ears. Because of the tense rivalry he had with Otto, Daemon saw him as a dishonorable leech who wanted to rise as high as he could get since his status as a second son would not allow him to inherit anything of his own.

But since assuming command of the City Watch, Daemon was at least allowed to flourish and hone his talents as an audacious rogue prince and adventurer who seemed composed of good and evil in equal measure. He reorganized the Watch from a loosely assembled and poorly equipped group of street toughs into the formal institution they were known as ever since. There was never a man simultaneously so loved and so reviled as he was. To some, he was a hero, to others the blackest of villains. However, Daemon did not care what other people thought of him.

Here? Sitting on the Iron Throne? Daemon felt like he belonged here - as his brother's heir he always felt like… before he was replaced by his nephew Aeonar. "Bisa enkis emagon issare ñuhon… (This should have been mine)," Daemon uttered under his breath. His attention was soon snapped when he heard the main doors opening. Of course, it would be them . Daemon glanced at both his niece and nephew from atop the Iron Throne - watching as they approached him.

"Ñuha jurnerys gīmēdan nyke bona ao ziksoso sagon kesīr. (My spies informed me that you would be here,)" Aeonar spoke in High Valyrian. "Daor ruarilaksa. (Not surprising.)"

"Iksis ziry sir? (Is it now?)" Daemon smirked.

"Sparo drīvose gaomā, kepus? (What do you think you are doing, uncle?)" Rhaenyra inquired.

"Ñuhoso dēman. Kesy ñuhys dēmavos māzīlariot sinilus. (Sitting. This well could have been my chair back then.)"

"Daor lo jaelā naejot gaomagon aōha bartos, kepus. (Not if you want to keep your head, uncle,)" Aeonar refuted. "Ao issare ozmijes hen manda syt iā bōsa jēda. (You've been away from court for such a long time.)"

"Aye," Daemon nodded. "Qurdalbar gierī tegenkor issa. (Politics is so dreadfully boring.)"

"Konir sagon skoro syt ao jiōraton nādīnagon lanta. (That's why you got kicked out twice.)"

Rhaenyra could not help but snicker at the back-and-forth banter between her brother and uncle. "Sīr, kepus, (So, uncle,)" she interjected, "skoros vēttan ao māzigon arlī? (What made you come back?)"

Daemon glanced at his niece. "Nyke ryptan aōha kepa iksin ōregon iā vēttīlaksir. (I heard your father was hosting a tournament.)" He replied before turning to his nephew. "Iksan mirrī ruarilaksa bona ao sagon daor ima restan bisa jēda. (I am surprised that you are not going to compete this time.)"

Aeonar cringed at the thought of competing in a tournament where Daemon would become involved again. The last time he entered the lists, he sustained a terrible head injury from his uncle during the jousting competition. According to Grand Maester Mellos, Aeonar was rendered unconscious for a week before waking up. Queen Aemma was in hysterics, King Viserys was furious at Daemon for inflicting such bodily harm on his only son and heir. The headaches were gone, but the memory still lingered. "Muña jaelza, daor ñuhon. (Mother's wishes, not mine,)" he responded.

"Mmm… Iēdrosa qopsa nūmāzma bona? Meri kīvio dārilaros sagon arlī ilagon hen iā gaomilaksir. (Still stiff about that? Only the heir would not back down from a challenge.)"

Still trying to goad me, uncle? Well, perhaps another reminder will freshen your memory. "Iksan kepa's dārilaros, daor ao. Ao sagon sepār se ropattan. ( I am father's heir, not you. You are simply just the spare.)"

"Hmm! 'Ropattan,' iksin nyke? ('The spare,' am I?)" Daemon leaned forward - smirking at his nephew's barbs.

"Tolvie dārilaros jorrāelagon iā ropattan, kepus. (Every heir needs a spare, uncle,)" Rhaenyra chuckled.

"Sȳrī, (Well…)" Daemon stood from the Iron Throne and walked down towards them, "iā aōha muña trēsi tȳne sikos, iā jevo yrgoti zbērion. (Until your mother brings forth another son, you are all cursed with me.)"

"Pār nyke kessa jaelza syt iā valonqar. (Then I shall hope for a younger brother.)" Rhaenyra turned to Aeonar. "You already have enough on your plate, Aeonar. I'll take care of the rest from here."

Aeonar glanced at his sister. Sure, she was wily and stubbornly independent, but he trusted Rhaenyra enough for her to manage herself around their uncle… mostly. He turned to Daemon, who stood before them. Being 5' 11" and 6' 0" respectively, both stood nearly even in height - but the vast difference between the two was an overall experience… and Aeonar knew that. Daemon was one of the most experienced warriors of his generation with his constant fighting and was knighted fifteen years ago. Although Aeonar was the younger, more agile adversary who matched his uncle in terms of cunning, Daemon was more wrathful and wielded Dark Sister. Seven hells, even his dragon Caraxes was more battle-hardened. He knew his chances were very slim. "Try not to be late tonight," he told her.

"I won't. I promise."

Aeonar nodded and turned to leave, taking one more glimpse at Daemon before turning around once more. Now, it was just Daemon and Rhaenyra - the two of them alone in the throne room.

"And I thought my brother was overbearing," Daemon said with amusement. "Here. I bought you something," he extended his hand. In his palm was a small pendant sitting on a chain, with metal work that resembled swirling grey and black smoke with an inset of a blood-red ruby in the center. "Do you know what it is?"

Rhaeynra graciously took the gift her uncle got her. She was amazed at the metalwork being made of Valyrian steel, an homage to their ancestral home. "It's Valyrian steel. Like Dark Sister and Blackfyre," she answered. "You and Aeonar always get me the nicest things I can't even tell who's my favorite. So hard to choose."

Daemon swiftly withdrew his hand, prompting Rhaenyra to place her hands behind her back. Still enjoy teasing me, don't you? "Turn around," he commanded.

Complying with her uncle's request, Rhaenyra turned and raised her hair, exposing her bare neck. Hearing the metallic chains clinking behind her, Rhaenyra felt the pendant being wrapped around her neck and heard the clasps locking into place.

"Now," Daemon said, "you and I both share a small piece of our ancestry." He eyed his niece up and down. "Gevie. (Beautiful.)"

King's Landing - City Watch garrison…

Later that night, a routine patrol among the City Watch was about to commence. The main law-enforcement and military institution responsible for the security of the capital city of the Seven Kingdoms, the guardsmen numbered 2,000 strong. Anticipating a large turnout for the upcoming tournament, law enforcement predicted a sharp rise in the city's crime rate.

But this time, they were more ready than their predecessors.

For the first century of King's Landing's existence before that, the City Watch was little more than a poorly trained and random assortment of hired goons. But when Prince Daemon became their new commander, the City Watch has since been reorganized and re-equipped, essentially turning them into a small private army.

One by one, each of the guards began thumping on their breastplates rhythmically - anticipating the hunt that is to come in a ruthless show of force.

"Commander on the floor!" shouted Captain Randyll Barret.

Donning a unique set of black plate armor - the breastplate bearing the sigil of a dragon on both sides, the lower half with scale-like steel and draped a gold cloak around his shoulders - Daemon strode in the center of his officers eyeing them up and down. His men were eager and bloodthirsty. They were ready. "When I took command of the Watch, you were stray mongrels… starving and undisciplined," he began. "Now, you're a pack of hounds. You're sated and honed for the hunt."

"Aoooooooooo!" they howled.

"My brother's city has fallen into squalor! Crime of every breed has been allowed to thrive! No longer. Beginning tonight, King's Landing will learn to fear the color gold!"

Each of the City Watch let out a war cry, cheering for their commander, and waited for the gates to open. Throughout the capital, the City Watch's East Barracks, West Barracks, and Red Keep Barracks opened their gates to allow each guard to pour into the streets single file and split off in different directions by squads.

"You men, take Cobbler's Square!"

"Watchmen 2, 5, 9, and 14, advance on the Hook!"

"To Flea Bottom! We will purge these streets of all criminal scum!"

"Come on, let me at 'em! Let me at 'em!"

"Save some fun for me, lads!"

"You eight, follow me to the harbor! Do not let any vermin get away!"

"We've got the Street of Steel covered!"

"Search every house! Do not take any chances of them hiding!"

"Check the alleys!"

As they indistinctively yelled, the City Watch pursued suspects or alleged suspects of illicit activities through the streets of King's Landing. Onlookers were forced to get out of their way or tried to hide in their own homes. Four were chased and apprehended before being pummeled with clubs, each one shouting in pain and pleading for mercy. Three more ran down a dark alleyway but were cut off by another guard on horseback. Unable to escape, the gold cloaks from behind caught up with them and began to mercilessly beat them. On the ramparts, two chased another suspect trying to flee and grabbed him by his legs, tripping him on the steps. Another tried to climb a gate but was swiftly yanked down. One was caught hiding in someone else's home and thrown out the door, landing on the pavement.

"Get up!" the gold cloak demanded before picking him up and beating him as onlookers watched in terror.

Daemon, accompanied by Captain Randyll and ten more gold cloaks, patrolled the Street of Silk in search of any excitement they could find. No doubt there was a lack of it due to the increasing noise nearing the city square. He see ten of his men lining up more criminals against the wall, beating any who resisted arrest while a platoon of one hundred marched through the area. Seeing one putting up much resistance, Daemon backhanded him roughly - allowing the gold cloaks to take him away.

"Thief!" a gold cloak shouted.

"Gaaaah!"

Caught for stealing, one gold cloak grabbed a sharpened axe and cut off the left hand of the perpetrator. The man screamed in agony while he was being hauled away. More of the city's populace was held back by the City Watch - some shouting and cursing at them, others pleaded for mercy or to cease administering brutal summary justice. Needless to say, the gold cloaks did not listen.

"Raper!" Randyll pointed.

"No!" a man screamed. "No, no, no, no! Please, no!"

Captain Randyll pulled down the man's pants and pulled out a dagger, using it to slice into the man's foreskin and cut off his cock - leaving a bloody mess. Turning his head, he saw another criminal being dragged by his men. "Thief!" he pointed at him.

"No!" the man screamed.

Like the other thief, the offender's right hand was severed at the wrist. Daemon, meanwhile, watched as his men administered the king's justice. Just then, Randyll approached his commander and pointed at another suspect.

"Murderer!"

This now had Daemon's full attention as an accused killer was brought before him by two gold cloaks. The man was tall, sturdy built, and strongly resisted the City Watch. Unsheathing Dark Sister from its scabbard, Daemon made his way towards him to personally carry out the sentence. From his perspective, if you were caught stealing, off with the hand; if you were found guilty of rape, you would get castrated; but if you were guilty of a more serious crime, like murder, the penalty is death on the spot. To hell with sending him to the Wall or awaiting the royal executioner, Daemon raised Dark Sister and swung the Valyrian steel sword down upon the individual, personally beheading him.

Picking up the severed head, Daemon tossed it onto a large wooden cart carried by two horses. The stench of decay and dismemberment of arms and legs sprawled across the carriage as it was being led away. Daemon, however, remained unsatisfied. "Round up every criminal scum and enforce the king's laws on those who'd dare defy it," he commanded.

One gold cloak, calmly observing, cautiously snuck to a nearby alley and whispered into one of a child's ears. The child could not be more than nine years old; his attire made him appear as a street urchin, but beneath his tattered clothes revealed a small tabard bearing the insignia of House Targaryen's red-headed dragon. Once the word was delivered, the urchin disappeared into the narrow alleyway.

"Sergeant!" Captain Randyll called out. "We've got another one here! Two thieves and another rapist!"

The gold cloak nodded. "On my way, captain!" he complied.

Red Keep - Small Council chambers…

"It was an unprecedented roundup of criminals of every ilk," Otto informed Viserys. "Your brother made a public show of it, meeting out the summary judgments himself."

Viserys was accompanied by his Hand and son towards the small council chambers. His thoughts were already racing by the reports delivered to him earlier this morning about the reports from the City Watch - most of them were… unsettling. As such, Ser Otto had to convene a council session to discuss the City Watch's - and by extension, Daemon's - employ of excessive violence.

"We're still tallying the numbers from last night, father," Aeonar informed. "From what we know so far, our estimations range from somewhere around 50 arrests, 2,274 wounded and 118 dead."

"I'm told they needed a two-horse cart to haul away the resulting dismemberments when it was done." Otto turned to Aeonar. "And you expect these numbers to climb?"

"Yes, my Lord Hand. My contacts in the City Watch are still counting."

"And how soon can those reports be finalized?"

"When I know, you'll know."

"Gods be good," Viserys sighed. I did not to be told this first thing in the morning, but now I must deal with him again. Opening the doors, Grand Maester Mellos, Lord Corlys, Lord Lyonel, and Lord Lyman were all in attendance.

"The prince cannot be allowed to act with this kind of unchecked impunity," Otto stated.

"You think now is wise to say that about my uncle?" Aeonar inquired.

"And what makes you say that?"

"Because he's sitting right there."

Otto turned to see a smug Daemon sitting right across from him, Viserys, and Aeonar. The first meeting was in the morning and already the tension between them was heavy.

"Brother," Daemon greeted Viserys.

"Daemon," the king replied before taking his seat at the table.

"Uncle."

"Nephew." Daemon turned to face Otto. "Don't stop on my behalf. Go on. Continue. You were saying something about my impunity."

Otto stared him down. "You are to explain your doings with the City Watch," he insisted. "Your new 'gold cloaks' made quite the impression last night, didn't they?"

"Did they now? I'm surprised you were able to figure that out."

"The City Watch is not a sword to be wielded at your whim. They're an extension of the crown."

"The Watch was enforcing the crown's laws." Daemon defended his actions. "Wouldn't you agree, Lord Strong?"

Lyonel shifted in his seat. As the Master of Laws and Lord Justiciar, managing and advising the realm in legal affairs was his responsibility on this council. "My prince," he said uncomfortably, "I don't think-"

"Making a public spectacle of wanton brutality is hardly in line with our laws," Otto interjected.

Oh, here we go again, Aeonar rolled his eyes.

Daemon scoffed. "Nobles from every corner of the realm are right now descending upon King's Landing for my brother's tourney. Do you want them mugged, raped, murdered?" he challenged. "You mightn't know this unless you left the safety of the Red Keep, but much of King's Landing is seen by the smallfolk as lawless and terrifying. Our city should be safe for all its people."

"I agree," Viserys nodded.

"As do I… to some degree," Aeonar concurred.

"I just hope you don't have to maim half of my city to achieve this, Daemon."

"Time will tell," Daemon answered bluntly.

"'Time will tell' does not exactly sound promising, uncle," Aeonar responded. "Without the proper restraints to prevent our officers from going too far in enforcing the crown's laws, the fundamental purpose of the City Watch would be typically reduced to that of a mere sellsword company."

Otto exchanged glances with the king and his heir. The Hand wanted nothing more than for Daemon to be removed from King's Landing entirely if it were his decision, but Viserys would always overrule him in that regard.

"We installed Prince Daemon as commander of the City Watch to promote law and order," Corlys pointed out. "The criminal element should fear these gold cloaks and understand that the realm will not tolerate anyone who knowingly breaks our laws."

"Thank you for your support, Lord Corlys," Daemon nodded with appreciation.

"If only the prince would show the same devotion to his lady wife as he does his work, Your Grace," Otto remarked.

"Ser Otto," Aeonar turned, "do we need to divulge into another man's personal affairs in this council?"

"Your uncle hasn't been seen in the Vale or at Runestone for quite some time, Prince Aeonar. You of all people know this all too well."

"Which does not warrant grounds to stoop so low to his level."

Daemon raised an eyebrow. "Oh. So, we are going there, are we Otto?" He scoffed. "I think my bronze bitch is happier for my absence." It was no secret that Daemon hated his wife, Lady Rhea Royce. Neither party was happy with this arranged marriage and he hated the Vale of Arryn as well. Many times, he asked his brother to set aside his marriage to Rhae but was refused every single time.

"Lady Rhea is your wife," Otto pointed out, "a good and honorable lady of the Vale."

"In the Vale, men are said to fuck sheep instead of women. And I can assure you, the sheep are much prettier than the women."

"Dear me," Lyman gasped.

"Ugh… we don't really need to hear that," Aeonar groaned.

Otto, however, was not done yet. "You made a vow before the Seven to honor your wife in marriage."

Daemon, meanwhile, was just getting started. "Well, I'd gladly give Lady Rhea to you, Lord Hightower, if you're in want of a woman to warm your bed. Your own lady wife passed recently. Did she not?" he replied sarcastically.

Insulted by the mere mention of his deceased wife, Otto sharply rose from his seat to furiously glare at Daemon. If it were up to him, he would have the rogue prince's tongue cut out for such a slight.

"Otto, no," Viserys calmly called for order.

"Uncle, enough," Aeonar replied equally.

Otto remained motionless.

"Perhaps you aren't ready to move on just yet," Daemon japed again.

"Ilārtan ziry, kepus, nektotan ziry hen sīr! (Damn it, uncle, cut it out already!)" Aeonar reprimanded.

"Otto," Viserys intervened, "you know how my brother makes sport of provoking you. Must you indulge him?"

Calmly inhaling and exhaling, Otto exhaled and slowly sat back down. "My apologies, Your Grace," he said more composed.

"This council has, at great expense, bettered the City Watch to your exacting standards," Viserys turned towards Daemon. "Enforce my laws, but understand… any further performances like last night's will be answered accordingly."

"Understood, Your Grace," Daemon conceded.

Viserys then turned to Aeonar. "Now, my son… any interesting reports from your end?"

"Other than what we already know of, no," Aeonar shook his head. "However, I did come across a dossier of potential candidates said to be competing in the joust. I have had their backgrounds checked thoroughly to ensure neither competitor is completely unhinged. It all depends on how your tourney progresses… and who starts what."

"Good. Better be safe than sorry."

"I'll need to have guard rotations on the battlements and the tourney grounds to ensure all goes smoothly," Aeonar turned to Lyonel. "Lord Strong, would you lend me a hand with that?"

"I would be honored to, my prince," Lyonel nodded.

As the small council continued with their session, Daemon rose from his seat and turned to leave the room - passing by Lord Corlys as the Sea Snake observed his departure. Passing by two Kingsguard, the Rogue Prince would be paying a visit to a certain paramour in one of the city's brothels before the day is done.

"Forgive my brother, my lords," Viserys apologized. "King's Landing has been in decline since my grandmother passed. In the end… this new City Watch might be a good thing."

"Only if properly managed and maintained, father," Aeonar speculated.

Otto, still reeling from the insult, begrudgingly accepted the crown's decision. That does not mean, however, that everything would be forgotten already because of the king's leniency. He took a moment to catch a small glance towards Viserys' son, Prince Aeonar. He had been observing his performance as Master of Whisperers lately, and surprisingly, one of his spies managed to get caught by the Targaryen heir's web of informants so quickly. And of course, having noticed the growing affection between him and his daughter, he would find a potential ally.

But for who's gain?