105 AC
King's Landing
A loud knocking at the door, had woken him up.
He had gone to bed late at night, so being woken up after only a few hours of sleep, did nothing to improve his mood.
As for that blasted knocking, it had been going on for several minutes now. It was starting to get on his nerves.
So, Aemon was in a foul mood, when he got up to open the door.
"Do you have any idea what the time is, Rowan?" He shouted. "It's the hour of the Wolf. Couldn't you have waited till the morning."
"Even I do not prefer to be up and about at this hour, but I'm afraid this cannot wait." Rowan answered, in a grave tone.
Seeing Rowan so serious, Aemon calmed himself
And as for Rowan, he quickly stepped past him entering his chambers, even going as far as to bar the door.
"Very well then, tell me what has gotten you so riled up." Aemon demanded.
He nervously wrung his hands as he replied, "It's Jahanara, the Gold Cloaks took her!"
"What?" Aemon said, astonished.
"Slow down, and tell me everything in detail." He said.
"One of the girls - Celia - snuck into the castle, through the servant's entrance. She informed me that, two Gold Cloaks had come to the brothel during the Hour of the Owl. They had spoken to Jahanara for sometime, before taking her with them." Rowan said.
"Where did they take her?" Aemon asked, angrily.
"From what Celia said, I believe that they may have taken her to Daemon." He answered.
"Go prepare the horses, I'll meet you by the stables", Aemon commanded, hurriedly pulling on his breeches.
Sometime later, as their horses were thundering down the streets of King's Landing, Aemon let his mind wander.
Over the last few months, as the Queen's due date drew nearer, Daemon had gotten increasingly erratic.
Just last week he had slain two men in a street brawl. True, they were criminals but this was not the first occurrence of such violence.
Even the King had begun to take notice, advocating Daemon to use less violence in his dealings.
Jahanara's sudden abduction could just be another part of Daemon's erratic behavior. Or it could be something much worse.
Aemon hadn't forgotten how Mysaria had taken control of 'Secret Garden' a few moons ago. It certainly hadn't been bloodless.
If this was another similar move by Mysaria, then things could get ugly.
Aemon had come to like Mysaria quite a bit, over the last few months. Daemon mistakenly believed, that Aemon saw her as a motherly figure.
In truth, Aemon found her to be more of a mentor or a friend.
He had visited her quite frequently in the recent months.
They would either have tea together, or play cyvasse.
But his favorite was the few times she let him in her alchemy workshop.
She had grown up in a Lys. And while there, she had been apprenticed to an alchemist.
Although, she never managed to finish her apprenticeship. She had picked up quite a few useful things.
And among them, was the art of poisons. She could make tinctures, salves and other basic remedies, but it was poisons, she excelled at.
And Mysaria had shared some of that knowledge with him, teaching him the recipes of a few basic poisons.
He didn't wish to go against her.
But then, fate cared little for one's wishes. He sighed.
They had been riding through Flea Bottom, when Aemon was suddenly jolted from his thoughts.
Rowan had pulled on the reins of Aemon's horse, nearly causing them to crash into each other mid-gallop.
For a fleeting moment he had been lost in his thoughts, and then suddenly he was violently thrown forward on his saddle, nearing flying off.
Aemon could feel his heart thundering fiercely in his chest, and the blood rushing through his veins, as the moment passed.
But before he could turn on Rowan in rage, for nearly getting them both killed, Rowan motioned to the alley they had just been riding down.
There Aemon saw, was crouched a grimy little kid, if Rowan hadn't pulled him in away in time, lost in his thoughts as he was, he would have run him over.
"What were you doing you brat, jumping in front of our horses!" Rowan called out.
Instead of answering, the kid walked up to Aemon and handed him a note.
Scribbled on it in charcoal were words written in elegant, loopy letters, that he recognized to be from Jahanara's hand.
The words themselves were meaningless. A code was needed to infer its true meaning. A code that Aemon knew.
"Jahanara has sent us a note. We are to follow the kid. He will lead us to her." He said to Rowan.
The kid led them on foot, down a twisting maze of ways.
Through dingy back alleys and hidden side steets they went, till they arrived outside a dilapidated barn of some sort.
The paint had long flecked off its walls, and even the wood that it was made of had started to rot.
And as they walked inside, the musty odour of muck and pig shit filled the air.
Inside wearing a coarse brown hooded cloak, was Jahanara.
Aemon handed the kid a silver stag, before walking up to her.
"What happened Jahanara? Why did the Gold Cloaks come for you?" Aemon asked.
Jahanara bit her lip, avoiding looking him in the eye, as she answered.
"The Prince wanted me to.....to serve him, milord."
Aemon felt an impotent fury rage within his heart.
But before he could say anything, Jahanara' knees buckled. Luckily Rowan had been fast enough to catch her, seating her down on a nearby, bale of hay.
After a time, Jahanara had calmed down enough, to continue.
"I, obviously told him no. That I don't do that anymore. I told him, that now, I am a proprietress, not a whore."
Her voice sounded lifeless, as she continued.
"The Prince insisted. He said that everyone has a price. Five hundred gold dragons. That was his price for me. I must thank his generosity, my maidenhead sold for less."
"I know that my words may seem meaningless, Jahanara" He said.
"But believe me, when I say that I'm sorry for this. For it comes from the very bottom of my heart."
"You've nothing to be sorry for, milord. It was I who was naive to think I could escape my old life. Once a whore, always a whore." Jahanara sighed.
"I cannot punish Daemon as he deserves, for he is my father. But I promise you this, Jahanara. You'll never suffer such an indignity again." Aemon swore.
Jahanara answer, was only a sad smile.
It seems she didn't believe, Aemon would keep his word. But he fully intended to.
-------------------
Mysaria's alchemical workshop wasn't fancy by any margin.
It didn't have any intricate devices or expensive apparatuses.
It was just a humble storage room tucked away and forgotten, in the enormity of Daemon's manse. Mysaria had modified it for her use.
The room had been cleaned till it was spick and span. Arranged neatly, in the corners were boxes containing the various ingredients she might need for her work. And in the center of the room was a large clay oven, with a pewter cauldron placed inside it.
"Sandarch, is a peculiar poison. It can be made for relatively cheap and is almost undetectable, however it's rarely used, because it's recipe remains a closely guarded secret. Other than the Faceless Men of Braavos, only few alchemists in the world know, how to prepare it. I happen to be one of them." Mysaria said.
And as Aemon watched attentively, she withdrew a shiny silver-grey rock from one of her boxes.
"This is an obscure ore that can be found while mining silver. I had it purchased from one of the silver mines in the Westerlands." She said. "Aemon, grind it down into a fine powder."
Aemon immediately got to work, crushing and grinding the rock with mortar and pestle, till it had been rendered into a fine gray powder.
Mysaria then went on to pour the powder in the heated cauldron.
Aemon had already, started a fire in the stove, using coal.
And in the heat of the flames, the powder gradually started to change colour.
Eventually, taking on a yellowish hue.
"This concludes the first part of the process", Mysaria said, dousing the flames with water.
"After some time, we will heat this yellow powder with charcoal, till we get the end product - a fine white powder."
After the yellow powder had cooled somewhat, they continued with the process.
In the end obtaining the fine white powder, that Mysaria had predicted.
"This is Sandarch. Colorless, odourless and tasteless. Mix it in food or drink in small amounts, and it will do the work." Mysaria said.
"In fact, it's only disadvantage is that it takes time to work. Taking from a few hours to a few days, to kill a person. But it being undetectable, makes it very useful, I find."
Aemon quickly jotted down her words on a piece of parchment he'd been carrying.
Mysaria's lessons were exceedingly helpful.
Aemon had already recorded the recipes of over a dozen useful toxins and poisons.
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After the lesson had concluded they washed up. Carefully purging themselves of any toxins, that may have clung to their skin, before retiring to the parlour for some tea.
The servants served them a fragrant blend of tea, indegenous to the Vale of Arryn.
Accompanying it were blueberry pastries, and apple tarts, and persimmons, grapes and crabapples.
Aemon had just taken, a bite out of a pastry, when Mysaria said,
"Daemon recently had a girl brought to the manse, olive skinned and golden eyed she was. Turns out she was the proprietress of a brothel on the Street of Silk."
Hearing her words Aemon froze mid-bite. Carefully setting down the pastry, he said,
"Is that so? Well, don't let it bother you. You know how Daemon is."
Mysaria observed him closely, her bright blue eyes fixed on him, her expression unreadable.
"I know it Aemon." She said.
Aemon could feel sweat beading on his brow, a knot of anxiety in his chest, but still he maintained a placid face, as he replied.
"Know what, Mysaria?" He asked.
Mysaria sighed, setting down her fine porcelain teacup.
"Must we play this tedious game?" She asked.
"I know that it is you, who owns 'The Velvet Pearl', Aemon."
Aemon felt ice in his veins. It felt as if he could hear his heart, thundering against his ribcage.
In spite of that, he managed to maintain his calm.
Feigning confusion, he asked, "What do you mean, Mysaria?"
Mysaria pursed her lips, "You know very well what I mean, boy. Do not bother to hide it. My sources are never wrong."
Seeing that this farce wasn't going anywhere, Aemon straightened, looking Mysaria in the eyes.
"How did you find out, it was me?" He asked, in a cool voice.
Aemon hadn't thought of it before, but there might be a traitor in his ranks.
"Don't worry it wasn't one of your people, spying for me. I found out because of what Daemon did. And no, before you ask I didn't incite him to defile that poor girl. He did that himself. I only took advantage of the situation, when I came to know of his intentions." She said.
"Even then, I was careful. How did you...." it was then that it hit, Aemon.
"It was the kid wasn't it. I told Jahanara, not to trust those little buggers." Aemon sighed.
Mysaria gave him a wicked smile.
"You weren't the first to think of using the kids to gather information."
"But I digress, it wasn't just the kids. Jahanara sending them straight to you was just dumb luck. I don't like to rely on luck. I needed to know my opponent. Of course, I had no idea it would be an eight year old. The fact is, when I heard Jahanara would be brought here. I realized that the best way to find the mastermind would be to have the brothel watched, for a messenger would soon run to them."
"So you had Celia, tailed." He said.
"Yes. But she went to the one who works for you, Rowan. On learning that, I had thought, that Rowan had another master, and that master was the true mastermind. And that working for you was only a cover. Never had I suspected, you to be behind it all. So yes, if luckily that street kid hadn't seen you. I wouldn't have known, you were the one." She said.
"This is so ridiculous. So I got done in, due to bad luck." Aemon laughed.
"It happens to the best of us." She smirked.
"So what now?" Aemon asked. "Will you tell Daemon? Or would you blackmail me instead?"
"You really are weird, I must say. Even when cornered, you remain calm. You don't seem like an eight year old, in any way." Mysaria said.
"Well to be perfectly honest. I don't think I am like, just any other eight year old." He replied.
"And to answer your earlier question, Aemon. I don't intend to do anything to harm you. I would instead propose a partnership between us."
Aemon leaned forward in interest. "What do you have in mind?" He asked.
"First of all, if we share information freely amongst ourselves. It will strengthen our respective network. Further working together, will enable us a larger capital. Thus, working together will help us expand further." She said.
"Moreover I have the perfect thing, to start our partnership with." She continued.
"Is that so? Tell me about it then." He asked, curious.
"Other than our two brothels. There's another high class brothel on the Street of Silk, 'The Satin House. I have a plan we can use to buy it. So what do you say, would you like to enter into business with me?" She said.
"I would love to. That is, if we share the profits equally." He said.
"Of course." Mysaria smiled.
--------------------
The golden rays of the autumn sun streamed in through the gaps in the leaves. The morning air had a chill to it, and the occasional breeze carried with it the damp, earthy scent of decaying leaves.
A White Stag had been spotted in the Kingswood.
And the King had ordered a hunt for it, in the name of his soon to be born Heir.
A regal gift for the birth of his firstborn son he'd declared.
All the Lords and Ladies had set off on the hunt. And with the three hundred Targaryen guards added to their number, it was a large party that had left the Red Keep this morning.
Rhaenyra had come too, and so it was with her and the Velaryon siblings that Aemon rode.
Ser Criston in his white scale armour, rode at Rhaenyra's side.
"You always put off going flying on Syrax", Rhaenyra pouted.
"Syrax is a wonderful dragon Rhaenyra, but I don't she's still capable of taking multiple riders." Aemon said.
"Now that's just silly. I took Ser Criston riding last week and he liked it I'm sure. Tell them Ser Criston." Rhaenyra said.
"I am of course thankful for the experience, Princess. But forgive me if I'm too blunt, but I would rather fight the Dornish, than do that ever again." He said, matter-of-factly.
As Rhaenyra's protests were drowned under everyone's laughter, Laenor continued.
"We should race sometime Princess, me on my Seasmoke, and you on Syrax."
"That would be too easy for Rhaenyra" Laena laughed, "If you want a real challenge Princess, then you should race me and Vhagar."
Laenor stuck out his tongue at his sister, teasing her.
"Vhagar might be bigger, but he's slower than an ox. He can never win against Seasmoke." He said.
Before they could cause a ruckus Ser Criston interrupted,
"Princess, I just got word that the Royal huntsman has spotted the Stag. Your father has followed in pursuit. He has left orders for you stay put, and not venture any further into the wild."
"Very well, Ser Criston we'll wait here." She said.
After we had dismounted from our horses, the servants served us watered down wine.
"So Princess, are you hoping for a brother, like your father?" Laenor asked.
"A brother would be nice, but I think I would like a younger sister more." Rhaenyra said.
"You are right Princess, if I had that choice I would have wanted a sister too, brothers can be so annoying sometimes." Laena said, throwing her brother a look.
"I wonder why Uncle Daemon, didn't join us. He loves hunts doesn't he?" Rhaenyra asked.
Daemon didn't join them probably because, he was passed out drunk somewhere, Aemon thought.
Of course, he didn't tell Rhaenyra that.
"Lately father seems to be quite busy with the City Watch, perhaps that's why he couldn't join us today." He said instead.
Before Rhaenyra could answer, there was a crackling of the underbrush, followed by the noise of snapping twigs. And as Aemon turned, to examine the cause of the noise, he saw a giant boar walking out from behind the trees.
It was an immense beast, and certainly must have weighed, over fifty stone.
Seeing it most everyone had frozen, till their fear gave way to screams.
The sound agitated the boar and lowering its head, it charged.
Aemon had frozen in panic, but realizing if he didn't move he would be mauled by the boar, he moved. Drawing his steel Aemon shoved Laena behind a wagon.
And on seeing that, Ser Criston had already placed himself in front of Rhaenyra and that Laenor had followed him in unsheathing his blade, he concentrated on the boar.
It's charge had met with resistance. They had been left with a dozen guards, it was now these guards that it was fighting.
But even though they had managed to block its charge, they weren't faring well against the beast.
Of the dozen men, four were injured. The beast had mauled one, and he was now rolling on the ground spilling out his guts. Another's legs the beast had crushed in rampage, he was lying unconscious on the forest floor. The other two weren't doing well either, one's skull had been fractured and another's arm was lacerated.
Eight remained fighting the boar. And even though, the beast itself bled from over a dozen cuts, it's fierceness only grew.
As soon as Aemon had finished taking stock of his surroundings, he saw a blur race past him.
It was Ser Criston his white cloak streaming behind him, as he charged the beast.
He pierced the boar's side with a great boar spear, that he had found somewhere.
In pain and rage, the beast let out a terrifying squeal, trying to use its tusks to skewer the knight.
But the Great spear held it at bay, as it continued to struggle, slowly bleeding out over the next few minutes.
Coloured in fresh pigsblood, Ser Criston's white vestments had turned blood red, as he turned to address them.
"Is everyone alright?" He said, whilst panting.
"Thanks to you Ser Criston", Rhaenyra answered, " You protected us from grave danger today."
"I was only doing my duty, Princess." He answered, her back.
Soon after the incident had been resolved, Laena came up to Aemon to thank him.
They talked for a while, before Aemon excused himself, going to find Rhaenyra.
As he walked, he saw of the remaining guards, some were busy butchering the boar, while others were tending to those injured, under Ser Criston's direction.
Aemon found Rhaenyra, standing under some shade, guarded by two of the Targaryen household guard.
"Wasn't Ser Criston heroic?" She asked, a wide smile on her lips.
And although Aemon knew, how Ser Criston would oneday betray her, he couldn't deny that he had been quite heroic today.
"He certainly was." He said.
"But actually Rhaenyra, I had something to say to...."
But the rest of Aemon's words were drowned out by the sound of blaring trumpets.
And before he could say anything else, Ser Criston walked up to them.
"Princess, I just received a messenger from the castle. The Queen is in labour." He said.
"And from the sound of those horns, I gather the King is returning as well. I have ordered the men to carry back the boar. But I think it's best if you and I return to the castle post haste." He finished.
"Sorry Aemon, we'll talk later." Rhaenyra said. "Right now, I must go to my mother's side."
Aemon could only nod in acceptance, as Ser Criston pulled Rhaenyra onto his saddle.
And as they rode away at a swift gallop towards the castle, Aemon had an inking that things wouldn't turn out well.
It was why he had sought out Rhaenyra.
Aemon had taken Daemon's advice, and bought a gift for Rhaenyra.
It was a brooch shaped like a dragon. Yellow gold had been used to emulate the scales, and emeralds for the eyes.
He had it specially designed to resemble Syrax.
It was to be a gift, for Rhaenyra.
Perhaps it would have brought her some slice of joy.
Before these coming days gave her grief she had never known before.
Alas, he had been too late. Aemon sighed.
--------------------
It was a beautiful autumn morning, with a thin gauze of cloud not quite blocking the blue sky beyond, and the Sun's golden radiance bathing the world in its brilliant light.
The Queen had died. As had her newborn son, the Heir to the Iron Throne.
And to Aemon it seemed as if, the world couldn't care less.
The entire Targaryen clan had gathered. As had the Velaryons and the Hand.
Usually, the funeral of the Queen would have been attended by the entire court.
But Viserys had wanted to avoid a spectacle. He wanted to bid farewell to his wife in peace and quiet.
And so, only close relations had gathered.
Everyone wore black in mourning. Even the Kingsguard had tied black scarves to their gauntlets.
Aemon stood beside his father, as the Septon performed the final rites.
Aemon hadn't spoken to Rhaenyra since, the day of the hunt.
But Aemon had known her long. They had practically grown up together.
In spite of the cold mask she had put on, he could tell that she was in pain.
As the Septon finished singing the final hymn of passing, Rhaenyra stepped forward.
By Targaryen tradition, it was usually the husband's duty to cremate their wife's remains.
But Viserys lacked a Dragon, and so this responsibility had fallen to the eight year old Rhaenyra.
She led Syrax carefully over, to the funeral pyre.
And then Aemon saw her cold facade crack, and break, as tears rolled freely down her cheeks.
"Dracarys!" Her voice shook.
But Syrax's flame didn't, as a gout of golden yellow flames consumed the pyre in its entirety.
After the funeral had ended, they had all returned to the Red Keep.
Viserys had declared the next seven days to be days of mourning.
There were to be no Feasts or celebrations in the City, the King had decreed.
But Aemon knew, that wouldn't stop Daemon. He always did whatever he wished.
"You were right, the Prince has in fact reserved 'The Secret Garden' for today's evening." Rowan informed him.
So things were playing out, just as he had feared they would.
No matter what, Aemon had to make sure, that Daemon didn't do anything in the next few days that would anger Viserys.
What a challenge that would be. He sighed.
"Where is he now?" He asked.
"Still in his chambers I believe." Rowan said.
"Let's go then."
Unlike his rooms, Daemon's apartments were in the Maegor's Holdfast.
And so, it took them a while to walk there. Standing guard outside his apartments were two soldiers of his personal guard.
On seeing him, they immediately stepped aside, allowing him entry. Rowan however, would have to wait outside.
Aemon found his father seated near the central fireplace, sipping from a glass of Arbor Gold and staring into the flames.
He went and sat down across from him.
"Why are you here Aemon? I don't believe I summoned you?" Daemon demanded, turning to face him.
"Can I not visit my father, unless summoned?" Aemon asked.
Daemon stared at him blankly for a few moments before bursting out, laughing.
"Of course you can, boy."
"So tell me, what brings you here?" Daemon asked.
"Shouldn't you be with Uncle right now, father? He just lost his family. Your presence may comfort him." Aemon said.
"My brother has no need of me. He wishes to mourn in peace." Daemon sneered.
"I'm sure that's not true." Aemon tried.
Daemon met his eyes and said, "I went to him. Told him to come with me, so that we may drown our sorrows in wine. Just like in the good old days. He not only refused me, he actually kicked me out of his quarters."
"So as far as you ask me, he can do whatever the fuck he wants." Daemon said, gulping down the entire glass of wine in a single swig.
"Father, are you still planning to go celebrating?" He asked.
"Of course I am. That's how I deal with my sorrow. By drowning myself in wine, till the pain goes away."
"But the day your mother died, the pain was too strong. I drank and I drank, and then I drank some more, but the pain still didn't go away. Even now so many years later, the ghost of that pain still haunts me sometimes." Daemon said, with a far away look in his eyes.
"So yes" He snapped out if it. "I'm going drinking today."
Aemon had rarely heard his father mention his mother. He was dying to ask him more.
But Aemon knew he couldn't afford to get distracted. So instead he said.
"I don't think that's a good idea. Uncle declared seven days of mourning in the City. I don't think he'll approve of this."
"What do I care of his approval?" Daemon thundered, "He may be King, but that doesn't mean he can command me however he wishes. I'll do what I want to do."
Aemon had, had enough.
Daemon had defiled Jahanara, she'd been under his protection and yet he'd been helpless to do anything. It was because of Daemon, that Mysaria had learned his true identity. And now Daemon was going to do something that would hamper many of his well laid plans.
"You always do whatever you wish father." Aemon shouted. "It is the rest of us that have to deal with the consequences of your actions."
Daemon roared in answer, "I'm your father, boy. Don't you dare raise your voice with me. You will talk to me with respect."
"And as for this conversation, I've had enough of it I'm leaving." He said.
And with that, he strapped on Dark Sister to his belt, and picking up his gold cloak le left.
Although, Aemon had wished for things to have gone better. For him to be able to convince Daemon to stay behind.
In his heart of hearts he had known, that this is how things would end.
Daemon was too stubborn, and in times like these, when his pride was hurt he could be extremely unreasonable.
And so, he had prepared for this eventuality.
"Rowan?" He said.
"Yes?"
"Send some of our people to the 'Secret Garden' to keep an eye on Daemon. He has reserved the place, but Mysaria will let you in. Tell them to blend in. Stopping Daemon from doing anything is beyond them. But they are to watch for any suspicious individuals or spies. Their orders are to capture or kill any such individuals." Aemon commanded.
"Very well, I will see to it." Rowan said, walking off.
Aemon had done his best, all he could do now was wait and hope for the best.
--------------------
"What do you mean, by they were caught?" Aemon demanded.
"It is as I said. Following your instructions I had sent six of our men to the 'Secret Garden' to watch over Prince Daemon, and root out any spies. Next thing I know, I was informed this morning, that they had been imprisoned by the King's gaolers." Rowan replied.
"There's no helping it then, we'll go to the dungeons. I need to get to the bottom of this mess." He said.
The Red Keep's dungeons had three levels to them, the lowest being the infamous black cells. Their destination was the topmost layer.
Situated on the ground floor, it housed common criminals.
Apparently, it was here his men were being kept imprisoned.
Aemon bribed one of the undergaolers, to led them to their cell.
The cell was small and cramped, with a window with iron bars set high on the wall. It let in only a meager amount of light.
Once tge gaoler had left them alone, Rowan demanded,
"How did you fools manage to get imprisoned?"
"It was not our fault milord. We had seen a suspicious man sneaking off, so as our orders said, we followed him into an alleyway, so that we could capture him. But just as we had cornered him, these royal gaolers showed up behind us. They said we were disrupting the King's peace, and demanded us to surrender. We of course didn't surrender, milord. But there were too many of them. They beat us to a pulp. Alvin died I the skirmish, and even the rest of us didn't get of easy. Milord! They shattered my arm with a club. Please, believe us, we were helpless. There was nothing we could do."
And then the man started bawling uncontrollably.
"Stop that noise." Rowan shouted.
The man shut up immediately.
"What about that spy? What happened to him?" Aemon asked.
"We don't know milord. Maybe he was also caught by the gaolers?" The man answered.
Aemon was about to reply, when he suddenly heard the sound of wood scraping on stone.
He turned around to see where it was coming from.
He saw, a thin spindly man, walking down the stairs. From his rich clothing, he was clearly nobleborn. And it seemed, that he was leaning on a cane with a gilded snake's head.
"You must be Aemon, Prince Daemon's son, I believe." The man said.
Aemon looked at him suspiciously, "Yes I am. And who might you be?"
"I am but a humble servant of the Crown." He said.
"But as for my name, it is Larys Strong." He replied, his lips curving up in a rictus grin.
It was then that Aemon realized that they were fucked.
Larys being here meant only one thing, it was he who had foiled his plan.
He had somehow known that he had sent men to watch Daemon.
And so he had imprisoned them, likely even delivering the spy to Otto Hightower.
Larys had already sided with the Greens, this early in the game.
Aemon had no doubt about how things would play out now.
In spite of his prophetic knowledge, Aemon had been beaten.
He had been too dependent on his 'Book', even now when things could be changing.
He had focused on the Hightowers, and completely forgotten Larys and now he would pay for his folly.
But despite it all, Aemon maintained his calm.
"Is that so, Lord Larys. I heard you were one of the new confessors."
"That I am, for now atleast." Larys said.
Otto might have promised him the Lord Confessor's position, Aemon thought.
"Could you tell me, why my men have been imprisoned?" Aemon asked.
"They were involved in a brawl in the City. Do not worry though, it is not a major crime. They would be let go only after a flogging." He smiled.
"I thank you for telling me that." Aemon said. "But I won't take any more of your time."
Aemon hurriedly left the dungeons, his mind awhirl with thoughts.
"So should we look for that spy?" Rowan asked him.
"And why would we" Aemon said bitterly,
"He has long spun his tale to the Hand, whose has then told it to the King."
Aemon sighed.
Larys Strong had got the better off him this time, by catching him unawares.
It won't happen again.
Next time, he would make Larys pay.
-------------------
The entire Court had been summoned to the throne room.
The Hand had an announcement to make.
Viserys wasn't on the Iron Throne. Instead, Otto sat it today.
And as the Heralds brought the court to order, he said.
"By the decree of His Grace, King Viserys Targaryen First of His Name, Kings of the Andals, the Rhoynars and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. I hereby declare the Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, Princess of Dragonstone and Heir to the Iron Throne."
"Further as per King Viserys' wishes all the Lords of the Realm, from the greatest Lords Paramount to the lowest of the landed knights, will assemble at King's Landing to do obeisance to the Princess. They will swear fealty to her as their future Queen." Otto Hightower declared.
Aemon had expected things to play out in this manner, so he wasn't very much surprised.
But Daemon was another matter. Standing beside him, he was seething in fury, fists clenched at his sides, teeth gritted in anger.
Suddenly Daemon stepped out from the crowd of nobles, and walked upto the Iron Throne.
"This is preposterous." He declared. "Never has there been a woman ruler in our history."
"I am only the King's Hand, I enact his will. If you have any objections you should present them to the King. Wait you can't, can you? He has denied you audience, after all." Otto said, gleefully.
Daemon ground his teeth. "Very well, if this is his decision then so be it."
He stripped off his gold cloak, throwing it onto the floor of the throne room.
"I, Prince Daemon Targaryen hereby resign from my position as Commander of the City Watch." He declared.
"My brother can award the position any one of his lickspittles. I am done with this City. He said, striding off."
Daemon took hold of my arm pulling me alongside, as he left the Great Hall.
"What of me squiring for Ser Darklyn?" Aemon asked.
"There's no need for that anymore. I am a far better warrior than him I'll teach you the sword. And as for your knighthood, I am a Prince. I'll knight you once you come of age." He said.
It seemed Aemon had no option, he would be leaving King's Landing for a time.
He needed to leave someone in charge of his business, while he was away.
Rowan would come with him, so that only left Jahanara. He needed to get word to her, before they left.
She was intelligent and well learned. She would serve as a fine custodian, he was sure.
It seemed that despite his attempts to change it, fate still continued to follow its woven path.
He couldn't let that stand.
Aemon had to try harder, if he wanted a better future.
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