Ruin

"They often say a woman is delicate and fragile, but they miss the fact that every lioness has sharp claws".—Queen Adella Lannister

The night was calm. The moon shining its light upon the city its translucent light brought forth the depravity of the city men drinking till their grip on their consciousness became loose women selling themselves like meat and men feasting on one another all happening under the eye of the red keep all happening in the king's city for flea bottom was celebrating for their prince had returned and he too was feasting, ripping away the dress, ripping away the security, and almost ripping away her innocence.

In the keep, a single man lay tossing and turning in his grand bed. The man to whom everyone would kneel was kneeling to his nightmares, his silver hair a mess, his sleeping face switching from one emotion to the next: awe, fear, despair, and helplessness. The king was for once at the mercy of another, his power useless, his blood meaningless, and his fear evident.

King Viseryes Targaryen's POV

I was standing in an open field, the wet grass beneath my feet. The sky was grey as the cold wind pushed past me. I was alone, with no king's guard, no people, actually only a solitary field that stretched as far as the eye could see beyond the horizon even, occasionally I heard a whisper in the wind, the only noise that wasn't of my own making.

"Why," a delicate feminine voice whispered in my ear. Her voice was hollow soft but soulless. The despair within her was articulated. Her voice was familiar yet unrecognisable at the same time.

"Who are you? Where is this? What is this?" I screamed, my voice echoing in the field. I got no reply. I got no answer. I got nothing. All I got was the wind blowing faster and harder as if trying to take me with it.

I screamed louder as loud as I could. I was afraid my throat would bleed with so much intensity that I yelled, "I AM THE KING AND I COMMANDS IT ANSWER ME WHO ARE YOU WHERE AM I?"

"Any man who must say I am the king is not the true king." said a voice sounding as a disappointed mother would in her son. No malice, just disappointment with a tinge of exhaustion.

The wind blew again, and this time it was a hard, deep, and sombre voice that spoke, "You will bring ruin; stop now, boy." It spoke with the authority of a king, an authority that I must confess I couldn't match.

The wind started blowing harder, the grass started to ripple, and as far as I could see, clouds moved like swirling tides, but the sky remained covered in a grey blanket. I covered my eyes with an arm, my arm that had scars from my cuts on it from the throne I sat on. As I removed my arm, I saw three figures standing before me.

A man with broad shoulders who stood a head taller than me, had a muscular build, silver hair, violet eyes, and a valyrian steel and ruby crown on his head. If that wasn't enough to know who he was, the ancestral sword in his hand was a dead giveaway; he was the conqueror himself.

My eyes were then drawn to the woman standing next to him. She was slightly smaller, her frame feminine but muscular, her wild silver hair flowing in the wind, her violet eyes shining brightly. They were eyes I had seen often as a child and even now, the eyes of my grandsire and my son, but they were colder, harder, and deeper like an ocean. The more I looked into them, the more I felt I might be swallowed up by them.

Her face was unblemished; her high cheekbones and sharp jawline only added to her terrifying beauty; her features were delicate yet feminine yet not weak; she was an ethereal beauty. The sword at her left hip gave me an idea as to who she was. Queen Visenya Targaryen, mother of King Maegor and a conqueror.

Turning to the next woman, I expected to see Queen Rheanyes, yet I saw her, Aemma, my wife, standing with the two conquers in her arms. She was holding a small bundle of cloth and gently rocking it. Her eyes seemed hollow.

Looking at her, I felt my heart skip a beat. The pain of the years, the guilt, and the memories all rushed to me at once. Before I even knew it, I was running towards her legs, moving on my own, but as I reached her to embrace her, my body fell through her. I couldn't touch her. I couldn't embrace her.

"Aemma I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have done it. I'm sorry." I cried on my knees, looking at my former wife and queen, but I got no reply. She only looked at me with her hollow eyes, empty of any feeling, not giving way to any of her emotions. Then she turned around, looking in the direction the conquers were looking at. Gathering myself, I turned to look in that direction, and my heart stopped.

I saw two giant dragons fighting one another, one older than the other, both black, yet one had a red membrane in between its wings and red eyes, while the other younger one was larger with green eyes and a green membrane between its wings, circling each other in the jaws of the older dragon. I saw a lioness who was fighting, even in its jaws, scratching at its face with her claws.

The younger dragon let loose a vicious roar that shook me to my core. I could feel its consuming fury. The dragon was just slightly smaller than Vhagar but looked more savage. Its body was covered in scars. It charged at the older dragon and let loose emerald-coloured flames, the heat of which I could feel even down here. A bead of sweat trickled down my forehead from the heat of the flames.

The older dragon fell, the lioness being scooped up mid-air by the larger, younger dragon, who didn't seem to stop unleashing its flames as it burned everything the once majestic landscape was turned into a hellish terrain that burned everything as the dragon never stopped roaring, its fury never-ending, its wrath all-consuming.

Then everything went white as I stood in an empty void with the three figures still standing tall, unperturbed by the events that had just transpired, and a lone voice echoed from King Aegon's mouth. "Tread cautiously, boy," was all I heard before the figures disappeared as quickly as they came.

Then I saw a glimpse of a woman, her build chubby, her silver hair draping past her shoulders, her violet eyes weary, but I could tell who she was, Rheanyra, and before her knees, a man in a white cloak offering up my crown. Just then, everything was swallowed up by darkness and my vision stopped.

Gasping and coughing, I got up in a panic, my mind in disarray, and as I took in my surroundings, the moon illuminated the night sky as it shined through my window. What was that dream? What did it mean? What did they mean?

Otto POV

I sat contemplating what to do about this situation. The king had to know what Daemon and Rheanyra were up to in the city. If I revealed this and pushed the idea of Aemon as his new hire, it might be possible for it to happen. He may see reason and see how dangerous his decision is.

Creek

My eyes darted to the door to see who had entered, and to my surprise, it was my grandson, already taller than most boys of 14-year-olds with a broad frame and macular build. In Seven's name, he was abnormal in his growth. I didn't know why, maybe it was the Hightower blood of the first men and the blood of the dragon lords reacting to make him an anomaly, or maybe the seven really had blessed him like the rumours I spread around the whole continent said.

"Grandfather," he said in a tone that didn't betray his icey mask or give away anything he was feeling. What was his goal in being here at this hour of the night?

"Aemon, let us not play games. What is it you want at this hour? I have urgent matters to attend to, so this must wait." I don't have time to waste on trivial matters. Now I need to push this to Viseryes.

"I actually came to speak about that urgent matter to you. You shall not reveal anything to my father about my uncle or sister's transgressions; we shall say nothing." He spoke in a calm voice, as if he wasn't asking me to throw away a golden opportunity here.

"You would have me do nothing with this information and just sit on it. This is the perfect chance to have you named heir. Don't tell me you have some desire to give the throne to Rheanyra now," I said, my confusion and annoyance evident. What was he thinking? This could get rid of Daemon and Rheanyra and solve the issue with no bloodshed.

"No, but you're overestimating the reasonableness of my father; he won't remove her; he'll, remove you and bury this situation. I won't allow it. When your enemy makes a mistake, you don't stop them; you wait and take the opportunity they have presented you with," he said in a calm tone.

My eyes widened. I couldn't hide my shock. He was going to spread this incident through the capital no through the realm; he was going to make Rheanyra's reputation as sullied as a back alley whore; he was going to ruin his own sister.

I could help but speak out against this: "What you seek to do is treason." Was this boy really that ruthless towards his own sister? Granted, he had no love for her, but she was his blood.

"Please, you committed treason the moment you started planning to put me on the throne. Don't play the loyal servant now; it's stupid. We will ruin her, and that's because you're fighting for the throne. Act like Maegor, not Anyes," he said in a sharp tone, displaying his displeasure at this whole conversation.

"I suppose you're right; my spies shall spread it through the city and realm." I acquiesced to his request and he was right. This may be dishonourable, but it was a needed step.

"So shall mine by the end of the week, half the realm shall know of her discretion; don't bring this up to the king; let someone else do it; the more removed you seem from this situation, the safer it is for us." He spoke calmly, and then he took his leave from my chamber.

This boy is dangerous. A real player has emerged and stepped onto the board.

King Vieryes POV

I held my head as I couldn't wrap my head around this. How did this situation develop without anyone knowing what was going on in the small council room?

I listened to Lord Beesbury talk, "Your Grace, what everyone here has failed to mention or is dancing around is the issue of the rumours of Princess Rheanyra."

Oh, those rumours that sprung up from nowhere and spread through half the realm before they ever reached my ear—those vile accusations of Daemon and her. How dare people spread this? How dare they speak such nonsense? But I'll play along. "What rumours are you referring to, my Lord?" I spoke calmly, hiding the malice in my heart.

"The rumours spreading through half the realm of Princess Rheanyra and Prince Deamon visiting a brothel together two weeks ago, your grace," he said in a neutral tone.

"What of them? I believe I dealt with that issue when I exiled Deamon and ordered any man who spoke of these vile lies to lose his tongue," I said, my rage barely concealed. I remember exiling my brother as he spoke of what he did. I should have executed him, but I will not be a kin slayer.

"Yes, your grace helped, but it doesn't change the fact that half the realm still speaks to them; we need to have the princess married to settle these rumors." He spoke, his voice filled with a sense of urgency.

Yes, of course she does, but she insulted half the realm on her tour, and now with this mess, even fewer men are willing to marry her. Maybe Aemon and her no, I can't do that, I won't, and also the issue wouldn't be solved despite his height and build; he was still a child and would not be able to consummate the wedding, and it wouldn't fix the issue that's upon us now.

I nodded. I need to think. I need time. "Otto I will be going to Dragonstone; I'll leave you in charge of the city while I am  away." I spoke in a defeated tone as I left the small council chambers.

The dream What did it mean? These rumours were part of the ream. What did it mean? Why should I be cautious?

-The End-

Sorry been busy but you got an extra long chapter for this now it's the dragon taming that's coming up next.