33 Chapter 31 - The Tourney's End
276 AC
Daemon Pov
"Do you both have anything else to say?" I inquired, glancing at my mother and brother. Their expressions revealed the pain of what I had just revealed.
"I thought as much," I remarked before turning to leave, with Barristan following closely behind.
As we made our way to Father's chambers, I knew I had to discuss my future and his decision regarding the betrothal between Rhaegar and Cersei.
"Do you think I was too harsh on my brothers squire?" I asked Barristan, noticing the determination in his eyes as he responded.
"One does not insult royalty, my prince," he stated firmly. "Your brother's squire should be grateful you did not report his words to his grace."
His words elicited a smile from me.
Upon reaching Father's chamber, I found Ser Lewyn Martell and Ser Gwayne Gaunt of the Kingsguard standing guard outside.
"Sers," I greeted respectfully.
"My prince, the king is occupied," Ser Gwayne informed me, his tone suggesting something untoward was happening inside.
I could hear moans emanating from the room.
"It's midday," I muttered to myself, incredulous. "The man couldn't wait until night."
It was astonishing that Father hadn't sired a legion of bastards across Westeros. Tywin seemed adept at swiftly handling any situation involving a pregnant whore.
As I observed the Kingsguard, I noted the somber expressions on Ser Gwayne and Barristan's faces. They were among the most steadfast knights of the Kingsguard, staunch believers who held infidelity in disdain. However, their duty bound them to silence; a sword simply obeys its wielder's will, I mused.
After a while, the doors swung open, revealing two scantily dressed women exiting Father's chambers, escorted by servants.
Standing outside, I called out to Father, who bid me to enter.
As I stepped inside, I found him in his trousers, leisurely sipping Dornish red, appearing quite content. It seemed fortuitous that I caught him in such high spirits.
"It appears you had quite the sandwich in bed, Father," I quipped. He looked momentarily puzzled before bursting into laughter.
I doubted whether he fully comprehended my jest, yet his laughter affirmed that I had chosen the opportune moment to approach him. It appeared my timing had been fortuitous indeed.
As I settled beside him, he poured a glass of Dornish red for me as well.
"Father, I do not—" I began, but he handed me the glass before I could finish.
"Daemon, you've become one of the youngest knights in the realm. It's time to celebrate," he insisted, and I took a sip of the wine before setting it down.
"The way you defeated your brother's squire was quite vicious," he remarked, a glint of pride in his eyes. "You showed them all how dangerous a dragon truly is," he added with a chuckle. "Although Steffon was not too happy," he admitted.
"But forget all that. What does my son want to talk about?" he asked me, his tone shifting to a more serious one.
"I want the City Watch," I declared, and my father nearly spat out the wine.
"What?" he asked, confused.
"Father, I want to be the commander of the Gold Cloaks," I clarified, the easy smile fading from his face.
"Why is that?" he inquired.
"Because I wish to protect our house, Father," I replied.
"From whom?" he asked, intrigued.
"From all those who believe the era of the Targaryens is coming to an end," I stated in a cold tone.
"But why the City Watch?" he questioned further.
"The Gold Cloaks are the largest force in the city of King's Landing, and though they should directly report to you, they do not," I explained. "They report to whomever pays them the most."
"When I reform the City Watch, I will ensure that there is no chance of them ever thinking of stabbing us in the back. I will show the people of King's Landing which house rules over them all," I asserted. "The respect that was present when The Rogue Prince commanded the Gold Cloaks will be restored."
"So, Father, please believe in me," I implored, emotion lacing my voice.
He remained quiet for some time. "The members of the Small Council will not be happy," he finally remarked. "They would think that giving such vast responsibility to you would be foolish."
"Since when does a dragon ask the sheep for their opinions?" I retorted. "Whatever the dragon says is the law."
Attempting to appeal to his pride, he smiled upon hearing me. "Very well. You will have the position once we return to King's Landing," he acquiesced.
"I will not fail you, Father," I promised.
"I know you will not, my son," he said with pride gleaming in his eyes.
We sat in silence as I endeavored to finish the wine Father had poured for me. With each sip, I felt my head grow lighter, and I noticed Father chuckling beside me.
"You'll need to build a stronger stomach for it, son," he remarked with a grin, pouring me another glass before settling back into his seat.
"What are your thoughts on Tywin?" he asked me, taking a sip of the Dornish red.
"He is a capable Hand of the King, Father," I replied as I watched him.
"He has always excelled at everything," Father spoke.
"When I was your age, I had decided that the only one worthy enough to be my Hand was Tywin," he said.
"After all, the lions ruled over the lands when the dragon flew above," he added.
"I do not understand, Father," I confessed, feeling the wine's effects clouding my thoughts.
"Do you know why I allowed him to take you on as his cupbearer?" Father asked me.
I shook my head in response.
"Because I wanted you to learn everything from him so that when the time comes, you would be a more capable Hand than him," Father revealed, and my eyes widened in surprise.
"But now the lion wants more," Father continued with a sneer. "He wants his blood on the Iron Throne."
"Father, forgive me for asking, but what is the issue?" I inquired, noticing the tension in his expression.
"There are already rumors of him being the real power behind the throne," Father replied, his grip tightening around his cup as anger flashed in his eyes.
"And if I give him Rhaegar, then he will truly rule from the throne itself," he said with frustration evident in his voice.
"Well, he already rules through the throne since you are busy drowning yourself in whores and wine," I thought to myself.
"So tell me, why should I give him the throne on a platter?" Father asked, and I realized he sought my advice.
"Father, Tywin is a figure feared throughout the Seven Kingdoms, especially after what he did to the Reynes and the Tarbecks," I began.
"He is the richest man in the Seven Kingdoms as well, and most importantly, he has been loyal to our house for as long as I can remember," I continued.
"Continue," Father said, motioning for me to speak my mind.
"His heir is betrothed to the Martells of Dorne, and if his daughter is married into our house, then in case of any uprising, we will have two of the kingdoms firmly behind our backs," I elaborated.
"You have four sons, Father, including me," I pointed out. "Make use of that for political connections like Hoster Tully did by betrothing his eldest daughter to the Starks," I suggested.
Hearing my words, he fell silent, deeply contemplating the matter.
This Aerys was different from the one in the original timeline. With four living sons, he felt his reign was secure, yet his vanity, pride, and arrogance remained. However, distractions such as indulging in wine and the company of whores diverted his attention. Consequently, he appeared more malleable, with the madness that lurked within him not surfacing as prominently.
"Father, I will take my leave now," I announced, and my father nodded thoughtfully as he contemplated the best course of action.
As I departed, I noticed Barristan looking at me with concern, given my slightly unsteady state from the wine.
"Don't worry, Barry. Father just gave me some wine to drink, although it was quite strong," I reassured him as he tried to steady me. A grimace appeared on his face, clearly not pleased with the king's decision.
While walking towards my chamber, I encountered Gerion.
"Prince Daemon, congratulations on your victory and subsequent knighthood," he greeted me with a jolly demeanor.
"Brother wishes to meet you in his solar," he informed me.
"Well, one must listen to the lion in his own den," I replied, laughing at my own joke, fueled by my inebriated state.
Approaching Tywin Lannister's ornate chamber, I observed red cloaks standing outside.
"My prince, are you alright?" Barristan inquired.
"I'll be fine, Barry. Just stand guard outside and rush in if you hear me screaming," I said, chuckling, though Barristan did not seem too pleased with that jest.
As I entered the solar, I felt Tywin's hardened gaze fall upon me, and I sensed something was amiss. Taking a seat, I met his intense stare.
"You are drunk," he stated in a cold tone.
"When the king orders someone to drink, as his loyal subject I must obey," I replied with a smile, but Tywin's frown deepened, indicating his displeasure.
"Forget about all that, Lord Tywin," I continued. "You do not seem quite pleased. Why is that? I thought you would be happy with my victory in the squire's melee."
Ignoring my question entirely, Tywin placed an object on the ornate table. It was a golden ring with a dragon engraved on it, and my eyes widened instantly.
"It seems you recognize this ring," he said coldly. "It was found next to a dead woman's body."
I grew silent as I recalled that night.
"Why did you kill her, Daemon?" Tywin demanded in a harsh tone, and internally, I crumpled. It was the first time I had seen him this angry.
Holding my head in my hands as I spoke, I recounted, "I heard that she could read people's futures, so I went to her. She spouted some bullshit before trying to kill me, so I killed her in turn," I explained. Tywin's expression grew more incensed.
"What the hell were you thinking?" he demanded furiously. "You could have died," he reminded me sternly.
"Does anyone else know about what happened?" I asked him, feeling a pang of concern. He looked at me coldly.
"Do not worry, I have already taken care of that," he assured me, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
"And here I thought you were smarter than your peers," he remarked dismissively, and I felt a surge of anger at myself. For some reason, I didn't want Tywin to be disappointed in me. "Fuck," I cursed inwardly.
"Lord Tywin, this will not happen again," I vowed. "You have my word," I added, meeting his gaze.
"We will not speak of this ever again, do you understand?" he instructed firmly, and I nodded vigorously.
"Now, onto other matters," he continued. "The Crown Prince, your brother, has decided to take Jaime on as his squire," he informed me, surprising me.
"I want no other incident to take place in the tourney like what happened in the squire's melee, Daemon," he emphasized.
I nodded my head in understanding. "You may leave," he dismissed me, and as I reached the door, I heard Tywin speak once more.
"I am proud of what you have achieved, Daemon," he said in a neutral tone, offering a small smile.
"Thanks, Dad," I whispered to myself as I left the room.
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The Next Day
The feast was in full swing, with the events of the tourney concluded, and everyone enjoying themselves. Clad in my golden doublet, I observed the nobles dancing, noting the uncertain glances directed my way. It seemed that my brutal display of strength in the squire's melee had startled them.
Not feeling the need to dance, I made my way towards the man who had won the melee.
"Ser Brynden," I greeted, and the gaze of the Blackfish fell upon me.
"Prince Daemon," he acknowledged.
"Did you enjoy winning the melee?" I inquired, and he chuckled.
"Well, I did. After all, there is nothing better than testing your mettle against your fellow knights," he replied, his reputation as one of the strongest warriors in the Seven Kingdoms evident.
"You are correct, Ser Brynden," I concurred.
"You did well in becoming the youngest knight of the Seven Kingdoms since your namesake, Daemon Blackfyre, did the same," he remarked.
"That is the only two similarities I have with him, Ser Brynden," I replied, and he laughed.
"I must congratulate your brother on your niece's betrothal to the Starks. It is quite a match," I said, adding, "Although I am surprised by the fact that he did not find a match for you, Ser Brynden."
"Oh, Hoster tried, but I am not meant for such kind of life," he said with a wry grin.
"Some men are meant to serve their house in different ways," I remarked as I took a sip of my wine.
"Well, I am quite curious about your other niece's betrothals," I continued.
"Lysa is not betrothed, my prince," he informed me.
"Well, who knows, Ser Brynden," I teased. "For all I know, your brother would betroth her to Elbert Arryn, the heir of the Vale," I suggested, eliciting a short laugh from him.
"Some might think that there seems to be some sort of hidden alliance against the crown," I added, noticing his wariness.
"Oh, do not mind me, Ser. It was a foolish jape," I said, attempting to diffuse any tension. "After all, the Tullys would never betray the Targaryens, would they? After all, they owe everything to the House of the Dragon," I remarked humorously, though Brynden understood the veiled threat.
"You are correct, my prince. The house words of House Tully are 'Family, Duty, Honor,'" he replied diplomatically.
"Well, it was a pleasure speaking with you, Ser Brynden," I said, and he nodded his head. As I walked away, I could feel his gaze lingering on me.
I made my way towards the man whore from Dorne, who was sadly my best friend.
"Daemon!" he exclaimed loudly, setting down his cup of wine to embrace me warmly.
"Gods, how many cups have you finished?" I asked him with a raised eyebrow.
"Like I always said, my friend, not enough," he replied with a grin.
"So, today is the last night of the tourney," he remarked, and I nodded in agreement.
"When do you believe we will meet next?" he inquired.
"You will be coming with me to King's Landing," I announced, and he looked intrigued.
"Father will make me the Lord Commander of the City Watch, Oberyn," I explained, and his eyes widened in surprise.
"In that nest of vipers, it seems I would be needing my own," I added with a chuckle, and he smiled.
"The things I do for my little friend," he said, smirking.
"Just wait for some years, and I will truly outgrow you, you arse," I retorted playfully, and we both laughed heartily.
Then from the corner of my eye, I saw Elia approaching alongside Ashara.
"Elia, let us dance," Oberyn declared, not even giving his sister a chance to say something as he whisked her away, winking at me in passing.
I realized he purposely took his sister away so I could speak to Ashara. "Gods, him and his stupid antics," I muttered under my breath.
"Ashara, you look..." I began, but before I could finish, she cut me off.
"Why did you beat Richard Lonmouth senseless?" she demanded, her anger palpable.
"In all my interactions with him, he seemed to be kind and loyal," she continued, her voice carrying heat.
"Kind, my arse," I scoffed. "Is that the reason most of the nobles here seem to be wary of me? Just because I beat that idiot senseless?" I questioned, frustration creeping into my tone.
But before Ashara could respond, Arthur's voice interrupted.
"Ashara," he said, appearing beside her.
"Brother," she greeted him, her expression wary.
"I remember telling you to stay away from him," he whispered into her ear.
"I can hear you, you know," I interjected, meeting Arthur's violet gaze with my own, but he remained silent.
Then, I noticed Connington, alongside my brother's other squire, Myles Mooton, approaching me.
"You seem riled up, Jon," I observed, eyeing the red-haired fool.
"Just because you are the prince does not mean you can get away with everything," Mooton chimed in.
"Richard said the same thing, albeit in a more disrespectful way," I retorted with a smirk. "And look what happened to him," I added, relishing in the memory.
"Say that again," Connington challenged, but before things could escalate further, my brother stepped in.
"Jon, that is enough," Rhaegar intervened, his tone soft yet firm. For a moment, Connington looked surprised.
"Daemon," Rhaegar addressed me, his eyes pleading for me to leave.
"To hell with all of you," I muttered as I turned away, feeling Ashara's gaze following me.
"You are not a real knight," Arthur's voice rang out as I walked past him, but I paid him no heed, continuing on my path without looking back.
After exiting the hall, I found myself gazing out at the city of Lannisport from the window of Casterly Rock. The night sky lent an enchanting glow to the city with its myriad lights.
"Gods, I have to clean the city as well after cleaning up the shit stains on the City Watch," I mused to myself.
But then, I heard footsteps, and as I turned around, I saw Ashara standing behind me, clad in a beautiful purple dress.
"Did your brother not tell you to stay away from me, since I may hurt you?" I quipped sarcastically.
"Daemon," she said softly, reaching out to pull my arm and turn me towards her.
"You never told me why you did what you did," she said, her expression earnest.
"Does it even matter?" I replied halfheartedly.
"It does. To me, it does," she insisted.
"He called me a bastard, Ashara," I confessed, and upon hearing me, she covered her mouth in shock.
"The last thing that the pits of vipers back in King's Landing need is such malicious lies to be spread," I added bitterly.
"Thank you for telling me," she said softly, tucking her hair behind her ears.
"You did insist," I replied nonchalantly, feeling a rush of nerves.
She playfully hit my arm. "So what were you going to say before, Daemon?" she asked softly, her voice like a melody.
"I was going to say that you looked beautiful," I confessed, feeling a knot tighten in my stomach.
"Is that so?" she teased, her face drawing closer to mine.
"I thought your brother told you to stay away from me," I remarked, our faces now mere inches apart.
"No one tells me what I can do," she declared firmly, her determination evident in her voice.
"The Dornish are truly fiery," I said, mesmerized as I gazed into her haunting violet eyes.
"We sure are," she replied, her voice filled with warmth as our lips met, and we shared a tender, romantic kiss.
As we pulled apart, I noticed that she had turned red, and so had I.
"That was great," I murmured softly as our eyes met, and we shared a moment of laughter.
"So, my lady, do you wish to dance?" I asked, and she nodded her head eagerly.
As we danced, I held her close, savoring the moment, uncertain of when I would have the chance to hold Ashara in my arms again.
After some time, we stopped.
"We should go back to the hall," she suggested, and I nodded in agreement.
Upon reentering the hall, I saw Rhaegar playing his harp, captivating the lords and ladies with his music.
As he finished playing, the nobles applauded vigorously, appreciating my brother's skill. On the high table, I noticed Cersei wiping away tears, and I couldn't help but shake my head at the sight.
Then father stood up and raised his chalice high.
"Another round of applause for my heir's magnificent display of his skills," he declared, and the nobles obediently clapped once more.
"I wish to thank you all for gathering here to celebrate my youngest son's birth," he continued, his smile warm and gracious. "Especially you, Tywin, for being my loyal and able Hand," he acknowledged, casting a nod in Tywin's direction, which Tywin reciprocated with a subtle nod of his own.
Father's next words sent a ripple of anticipation through the assembled guests. "There has been much talk since the start of the tourney about a betrothal between our houses," he declared, and the nobles leaned forward, eager for the moment of announcement. Even I felt a surge of excitement, knowing that I had helped avert a potential disaster.
"I have decided that the only woman suitable to become the next queen of the Seven Kingdoms must have Valyrian blood," Father announced, his voice carrying across the hall, momentarily silencing the murmurs.
"That is why I have decided to send my loyal cousin, Lord Steffon Baratheon, along with his wife, to search for a suitable bride with Valyrian blood in the Free Cities," he announced, his eyes twinkling with satisfaction as he enjoyed the shock on everyone's faces.
Then, he turned towards Tywin, who appeared visibly displeased. "Do not worry, old friend. I have not forgotten about your loyalty towards the crown," Father assured him.
"I would like to announce that Lady Cersei of House Lannister will marry Prince Daemon of House Targaryen," he declared, his words ringing out across the hall, causing an eruption of gasps and whispers among the guests.
"What the fuck?" I couldn't help but utter, my mind reeling from the sudden turn of events.
