Harrenhal ― Main courtyard...
Prince Daemon expertly led the Blacks in conquering Harrenhal, the largest castle in Westeros. He then took charge of his men and oversaw the surrendered House Strong garrison as prisoners of war. This major victory gave the Blacks control over the run-down fortress and access to the considerable riches of House Strong, as well as valuable hostages such as Larys Strong's great-uncle, Ser Simon, who was the castellan of Harrenhal, along with several of Simon's grandsons. "Chain them all. Leave no stone unturned. And question them very thoroughly. One of them knows something about the Caltrops, and I intend to know their secrets. I don't care if they claim innocence; torture them enough, and they'll confess," he told his men.
"Yes, my prince," one of the Blacks obeyed.
As the number of river lords who pledged allegiance to Aeonar continued to rise, the castle grounds transformed into a bustling encampment that housed increasing soldiers and provisions. The outer courtyard was adorned with the emblems of the noble houses in the Riverlands, including the Darrys, Blackwoods, Mallisters, Freys, and Brackens, the latter of whom conceded to Prince Jaehaerys after the surrender of Stone Hedge. The castle's smallfolk also became captives under Daemon's watchful eye. The ever-determined Daemon was convinced that one of these individuals held valuable information and was resolute in uncovering it.
"Dragons incoming!"
Daemon contemplated the vast expanse of blue sky above him with a gentle tilt of his head. At that moment, his gaze was drawn to the graceful figures of Vermithor and Vermax as they soared through the air with effortless ease. Noticing how the smaller of the two dragons, Vermax, darted and weaved through the air with a nimbleness that Vermithor could no longer match, Daemon marveled at the contrast between the two. As the dragons descended into the courtyard, the Blacks shifted to make room for their landing. Daemon's keen eye immediately recognized the two dragonriders as they settled near Caraxes, their mighty wings folding neatly against their bodies. "Ah, Jacaerys. Jaehaerys. You're just in time."
"In time for what?" Jace addressed his stepfather.
"We've got some suspects in custody for questioning. One of them clearly has a stronger connection to House Strong's secrets and House Peake's affairs. They're proving to be quite difficult to crack, though - either they're holding back valuable information or have no idea what they're talking about. But we'll get to the bottom of this one way or another. They won't be able to keep their lips sealed for long."
Jaehaerys glanced at the House Strong garrison and the smallfolk. He noticed some of these people were frightened and carried bruises along their bodies, evidenced by physical abuse and extensive torture. The sight disgusted him. His grandfather would never have allowed this to happen. "And this is how you wish to extract it?" he spoke.
"You disapprove," Daemon couldn't help but pick up on the disapproving tone of his son-in-law's voice. The young Targaryen prince was questioning him about his methods and ethical approach.
"It is unacceptable to inflict bodily harm to a prisoner who cannot defend themselves, especially if they are commoners who have not committed any wrongdoing towards you."
"You find fault with my decision? This is simply a massage compared to what the Clubfoot's men put their victims through. If we're pursuing a target, it shouldn't matter how I do it as long as we can get the job done. You're nineteen, Jay, practically a young man. You don't have to agree with my methods, and that's fine, but as long as you don't interfere."
"Yet engaging in such actions degrades you just as much as him, father-in-law. While efficiency is crucial in completing tasks, we must prioritize safety and fairness by avoiding harm to innocent people. To accomplish our goals, we should strive to get the job right, not fast; that means no shortcuts or compromising methods such as torture and abuse. There's a difference between being harsh and cruel."
"And how would you have done it? I conquered Harrenhal while you took your time seizing Stone Hedge."
"Because, unlike yourself, I talk with people rather than resorting to intimidation tactics." More importantly, I don't harm little children. Jaehaerus decided to take charge of the situation and personally question them himself, composed and determined to uncover any information that could be useful to the cause.
Daemon sneered. "You lack conviction, Jaehaerys," he commented.
With a quick glance over his shoulders, Jaehaerys fired back, "And you lack self-restraint, Daemon," before swiftly turning away. His disdain towards unnecessary cruelty was a core part of his being. As he surveyed the surroundings, he couldn't shake off the feeling of unease. The stronghold of House Strong, once trusted allies of the crown under the leadership of Lord Lyonel and Ser Harwin, had become the stronghold of the adversarial noble houses of the Blacks. Life under the rule of Larys Strong was nothing like what he had expected. Jaehaerys had a nagging suspicion about the sudden rise to power of the Clubfoot, which only grew stronger in his subconscious. It had been six long years, and the Lykiri Mere were investigating closely but not revealing much. He needed to know the truth for himself.
Jacaerys noticed his cousin's thoughtful expression. "Something bothering you, Jay?" he inquired.
"Do you recall when we first learned of the tragedy at Harrenhal six years ago?"
"Yes, I remember. While it was officially deemed an accident, His Grace appeared to be unconvinced regarding the matter. I recall that he had his men initiate an internal inquiry; however, it has been six years since then. Why?"
Jaehaerys examined the prisoners. Looking back on it now, I don't think it was an accident. "There might be something the crown's agents missed. See what you can do for the refugees," he speculated-one of House Strong's high-ranking leaders, someone close enough to Larys to at least know something. No, I think father's agents were intercepted... by someone. They would have left no stone unturned otherwise. "If I may, I would like to ask if you happen to be Ser Simon Strong. Harrenhal's castellan?" he inquired politely, directing his attention towards an elderly man who was bound and tied and kept apart from the rest of the prisoners.
"Ah. So... you're Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen. Named after the Old King," Simon emitted a pained grunt as he shifted his body to alleviate the discomfort caused by his knees pressing into the unforgiving dirt. The metal chains around his wrists dug into his flesh, causing his wrists to strain. "I've heard much about you from the servants. I would offer a formal greeting, but, as you can see, I'm in no position to offer anything now."
"Were you mistreated?"
"I might be an old man, but... mmm! I can take it. Nothing that hasn't been done to me compared to what lies in store for me once Queen Beatrice learns of our surrender."
More likely she already does. "You weren't given a choice, ser. None of your men were." Jaehaerys put his hands behind his back, and his posture straightened. "As difficult as it was, the decision to surrender the castle to save the lives of your men demonstrates courage in the face of adversity."
"Courage? I knew the dangers when Prince Daemon came with his dragon atop the Kingspyre Tower. I am not a fool. Harren the Black dared to defy Aegon Targaryen, and he and his sons were burned alive in this cursed place," Simon replied with disappointment. "I knew the battle was lost before it even started. No fortress can withstand the power of a dragon. So, yes, I surrendered as long as my men were spared. It's a shame we weren't treated with any special consideration. Stupid boy, Larys. Leaving me in charge of our family's castle with only a handful of men..."
"I've witnessed the difficult circumstances that your soldiers and these people here have endured, which is a great concern. Such behavior is not in line with the values of the crown, and it certainly would not have been sanctioned by my late lord grandfather, King Viserys, were he still alive." Jaehaerys gazed directly at Ser Simon. "I do not have any contention with you, Ser Simon," he stated calmly. "However, I do require some answers to a few inquiries."
"Before your father decides to execute me, provided Beatrice or her sons don't get to me first?"
"I'm giving you a choice: If you choose to answer me truthfully, I can assure the safety and protection of not only yourself but also your grandsons and your men. As heir to the Iron Throne, I am willing to pardon any who have taken up arms against my family and renew their oaths of fealty to the rightful king of Westeros. However, should you lie to me or withhold any information, I can't guarantee what comes next-the King's Justice, exiled across the Narrow Sea without so much as a coin to your name or sent north to live out the rest of your life as a sworn brother of the Night's Watch. It would be a regrettable loss to risk the future of House Strong for a grandnephew who appears to have used you as a mere pawn in his schemes and abandoned you to your fate when you no longer proved useful to him, would it not?"
"Clever boy," Simon cautiously spoke, his gaze flickering upward to meet Vermithor's intense gaze. The elder dragon's low growl reverberated in the air, a warning to Harrenhal's castellan. Simon knew that his life would be forfeit if he were sent before Aeonar, Beatrice, or any of her sons. However, in the presence of the young prince, Simon saw a glimmer of hope. Perhaps, with some clever maneuvering, he could find a way out of this dire situation. "But I need your promise. If I agree to tell you what I know, you'll protect me from the Young Dragon."
Ah. Now I see why you've served the Caltrops all this time. Fear. "Rest assured that there is no need for concern regarding my father. I am confident in handling the situation with utmost competence."
"So I've heard. What do you want to know?"
"Has there been any indication of a suspicious individual entering or exiting Harrenhal around the time of the fire that resulted in the deaths of Lord Lyonel Strong and his heir, Ser Harwin 'Breakbones,' six years ago?"
"Not that I'm aware of. Harrenhal has been under a curse ever since Balerion destroyed it during Aegon's Conquest. The Black Dread's flames were so strong that they melted steel and stone, turning sand into glass. Some of the servants believe that the spirit of Harren the Black still haunts this place 130 years after his death. Many noble families have ruled Harrenhal before mine, but like the rest of any who lived here, they all mysteriously died without a trace. The castle has changed hands so many times that nobody seems to be able to hold onto it for more than half a century. When my nephew Lyonel and his son Harwin died, we assumed it was just another instance of the curse. We could barely recognize them their bodies were so badly burnt. So, to answer your question, Prince Jaehaerys, no, I haven't seen anyone suspicious. If I had, I would have taken action immediately."
"Placing any of the garrison's sentries at strategic locations around the castle would have inevitably raised suspicion."
"Lad, watching all the entrances and exits of Harrenhal all day with a limited number of men would have been daunting. We did, however, receive reports of a dispute between individuals wearing cloaks of various colors and House Tully's patrol, which travelers mentioned on the roads. At the time, we were unable to investigate the matter."
"The Lykiri Mere..."
"Is that what they're called? Your father's foreign assassins and personal death squads?"
"They are the remnants of Old Valyria, the land of my ancestors, with a long-standing history predating the Faceless Men. Once they served Valyria's powerful dragonlords, they now serve my father," Jaehaerys explained. "You see, Ser Simon, six years ago, my father believed that the tragic events at Harrenhal were not coincidental. So, he sent his men on a covert mission to investigate. Gather any pertinent information they can find. Yet, they never returned to King's Landing to report their findings. We sent out a search party, but their bodies were never found. However..." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a badge shaped like a beetle-the years aged it from bronze to copper. "We found this. Do you recognize it?"
Simon leaned in, scrutinizing the old badge, his lips pursed and brow furrowed. "Is that... the same one Larys has?" he frowned.
"Your grandnephew wears a badge that bears a similar design to this one?" Jaehaerys inquired, his expression betraying a hint of intrigue and curiosity. Though he felt he was making progress, he knew he needed more information to confirm his suspicions.
"The preservation of one's secrets is akin to that of a wealthy lord's protection of his power and influence," a woman cryptically responded.
"Shut your mouth, bastard!" Simon shouted.
As Simon exclaimed, Jaehaerys turned his head and beheld a woman before him. She was recognized to be a wet nurse serving House Strong. The young prince scrutinized her with his eyes, taking note of her age, which he guessed to be around mid-forties, yet she appeared remarkably stunning and youthful. Her long black hair and green eyes were captivating, adding to her overall beauty. "Who... Who are you?" he asked.
"My name does not matter, my dear boy. But if it will satisfy your curiosity, the servants call me Alys Rivers," she introduced herself.
"'Rivers.' You're a bastard?"
"Of course, you need not worry about offending me. I am used to being called unsavory names worse than bastard or wet nurse. Though I had many stillborn children, my milk had nourished countless babes born of other women here at Harrenhal. I had foreseen your arrival through the flames. You came here to offer salvation to these people and save them from the impending darkness. However, Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen, remember that the more you try to help, the more pain and suffering you may experience. A wound that threatens to leave an ever-lasting scar upon your soul."
The enigmatic words spoken by Alys took aback Jaehaerys. They brought back memories of Helaena's cryptic phrases from his childhood, yet the difference was that Alys was lucid and able to articulate her message clearly. Nevertheless, what troubled the young prince was how Alys could stare him straight in the eyes and convey a warning without apparent concern for her safety. It left him uneasy and wondering about the gravity of the situation.
"Shut your mouth, slattern!" Simon continued rambling. "Heed not her words, Prince Jaehaerys. She is nothing more than a simple bastard squirted into the belly of a lowborn commoner. She has forgotten her place yet again!"
"Please refrain from speaking in such a derogatory manner, Simon," Jaehaerys interjected calmly, attempting to diffuse the tense situation. "I value the opinions of all those present, regardless of their background or status." He turned to address the woman in question. "And as for you, what do you mean?"
"You strive for veracity in a world brimming with falsehoods and deceit," Alys expounded. "Nevertheless, you have learned to adapt and navigate such treacherous waters where secrecy, intrigue, and court politics are essential to one's survival, and you now play the same game as those who deceive to attain your goals. You have become skilled at blending in with your surroundings and mastering their craft. You are proficient at playing the game of thrones, my dear, but the more you endeavor to do good, the more you carry yourself with integrity, the greater the toll it takes on you... I can sense that the death of your little brother still pains your spirit, but sadly, Prince Daeron's demise was merely the start of your trials and tribulations."
Upon hearing the mention of his brother and his fate, Jaehaerys felt a sudden tightening in his throat. He was taken aback by the woman's knowledge on the matter, and as he gazed into her eyes, he couldn't help but feel increasingly unsettled. There was an inexplicable darkness about her that seemed almost threatening. Despite his reservations, he couldn't deny the truth in her words about his involvement in court intrigue. It was this involvement that enabled the young prince to distinguish between those who were truthful and those who were not. "How do you know that...?" he asked quietly under his breath.
"I know many things. Furthermore, I can provide you with a sense of closure. The object you are holding, the badge, is crucial evidence confirming your father's suspicions about Larys Strong. It was indeed Larys who orchestrated the fire that claimed the lives of his father and brother. A motive to seize power and insinuate himself into the Caltrops' inner circle to gain and accumulate more. The agents your father dispatched on a mission but never returned? They were captured and eliminated by the Clubfoot's men, who were secretly working on his behalf. Within Larys Strong lies a formidable adversary capable of matching to your father's spy network."
"What?! You lie!" Simon yelled.
Jaehaerys was intently studying Alys and Simon, their every word carefully considered and pieced together in his mind. He detected a sense of dishonesty in one of them, while the other was relatively straightforward in their comments. It was an unusual situation, as who would have thought that a lowly bastard wet nurse would possess more knowledge than a highborn noble? Nevertheless, the young Targaryen prince felt he had stumbled upon more than he had bargained for. Suddenly, Jaehaerys rose to his feet, feeling the need to get away from them for his own sake. As he walked by knights, men-at-arms, and humble peasants, hundreds and then thousands more had also geared up, ready to fight for the Young Dragon at Harrenhal. Despite her unassuming appearance, Jaehaerys found Alys Rivers to be quite intimidating. As the loyalist soldiers led them to the cells, Jaehaerys felt his world spinning and had to lean against one of the tables set up in the courtyard. Clearly, this would not be an easy journey for him, and he wondered what other secrets and challenges lay ahead.
"Cousin, what's the matter? You look like you've just seen a ghost," Jacaerys remarked with concern.
After a moment of hesitation, Jaehaerys shook his head and spoke up. "I just learned a horrible truth. Jace, that fire six years ago wasn't just an accident."
"What do you mean?"
"It was Larys. He orchestrated the fire that killed Lord Lyonel and Ser Harwin. All of it just so he could seize power for himself and then had his agents cover up the evidence, ensuring that no one would ever find out the truth. Larys Strong was behind this all along."
"He what? He killed them?!" Jacaerys said with outrage. "How could he! They're his father and brother! I'll-"
"Jace, please listen to me," Jaehaerys interjected, placing a firm hand on his cousin's shoulder. "I need you to return to King's Landing and report our findings to the council, my father, mother, the Hand, and anyone who'd listen. They must be informed of this immediately."
"And you?"
"Don't worry. I'll catch up... give me a moment."
Jacaerys knew the discovery was vital and must be delivered to the capital immediately. Entrusting that Jaehaerys would be behind him, the young Velaryon hurried back to Vermax and mounted his dragon before taking flight. Vermax might be smaller than Vermithor, but he was faster and more maneuverable. If any dragon between him, Vermithor, and Caraxes who'd make it to King's Landing, it would be Vermax. As Jaehaerys needed time to gather his thoughts, one of the servants arrived with a chalice of water.
"Here, my prince," she offered.
"Thank you," Jaehaerys gracefully accepted the cup, bringing it to his lips and enjoying the refreshing sensation of the cold water flowing down his throat. He exhaled deeply and shook his head, feeling grateful for the drink. "May I ask how the others are doing?" he inquired.
"It... I can't say..."
"Don't worry. Let me know if you have any concerns, and I'll do what I can to help."
As the servant sighed, she couldn't help but express her concern. "Things were truly terrible when Prince Daemon took charge," she explained. "The people lived in constant fear and anxiety, unsure of what would happen next. His Grace's reputation only added to their unease, as they anticipated more bloodshed and violence. However, since your arrival, my prince, the air has completely shifted. These people were overjoyed to see you and feel renewed hope and safety. Your presence has truly made a difference."
"But I'm no one special."
"You might see yourself like that, but they don't. The smallfolk might fear their king but still care deeply about their prince. They know of you what you do for them. When we were wondering what to do next, we had help."
"From who?"
"Someone who loves you," a young woman replied.
Jaehaerys's attention was immediately drawn as he heard a familiar voice. His ears perked up, and he swiftly turned around to identify the source, and to his astonishment, he knew who it was who spoke to him. "Baela!" he exclaimed with a sense of pleasant surprise.
Baela, who had cleverly disguised herself as a commoner, managed to sneak out of the Vale and infiltrate Harrenhal undetected. As soon as she saw Jaehaerys, she couldn't help but tease him, "I told you you'd never get rid of me that easily, Jay- Whoa!" However, before she could continue, Baela was taken aback when she felt Jaehaerys wrap his arms around her tightly and lift her off the ground. Despite her surprise, Baela readily reciprocated the affectionate gesture, laughing as she exclaimed, "Wow! I didn't know you'd miss me that much." She then noticed the expression on his face. "What is it?" she asked, brushing a hand on his cheeks.
"It's... It's a long story," Jaehaerys said. "I've missed you, Baela."
"I missed you too."
Observing from a distance, Daemon carefully kept an eye on his grandnephew/son-in-law, Jaehaerys, and his elder daughter, Baela, as they made their way toward a more secluded area. He knew that Jaehaerys would likely share with Baela the recent discoveries he had made. Still, he wondered if he would exclude the sensitive topic of Daeron's death, assuming that Baela wasn't already aware. Regardless, Daemon was struck by Baela's ability to bypass the security measures without drawing the attention of the Blacks. He knew his daughter well and was well aware of her stubbornness as a true dragonrider. He knew that there was no way she would sit this one out on the sidelines. As he pondered these thoughts, Daemon suddenly heard a faint yet distinct roar of a dragon in the distance. Despite the distance, he, along with Caraxes and Vermithor, could discern it.
...Vhagar was on the move, and she was heading east.