Chapter 3
The waves rocked the ship as the red woman looked at the Prince sitting in front of her with a complicated gaze, her eyes gleaming an ominous red as she gasped out.
"You truly are him!" she said reverently, and her words seemed to irk the Prince as he snarled in rage.
"I told you, I am not. I believe in no God, not the Seven nor this majestic Red God of yours," he said.
"You do not believe him despite being the bearer of his blessing, despite having witnessed his might yourself?" she questioned and saw the Prince's eyes narrow.
"This. This is no blessing from a God! I live because the blood of the Dragon flows through my veins!" he roared, and she shook her head.
"The Blood of Kings and Queens may flow through your veins, but many a King and Queen with the same blood have been burnt by fires much less hot than the one you were thrust into, yet you live, for you, my Prince is the champion of R'hllor himself, and bear his blessing," she began and when he was about to retort.
"I refuse to be the pawn of some damned diety, and I am Daemon Targaryen, son of Old Valyria itself. I serve no God," he retorted, and she smiled.
"Valar Morghulis," she iterated and saw his eyes tighten as he finished.
"Valar Dohaeris."
"All men must serve, and you, my Prince, shall be the champion of Light in the upcoming battle against the Great Other. The Azor Azhai, the hero who shall save this world from plunging into unending darkness," she said and saw the Prince's eyes tighten as his fists balled up, the fire in the room cackling as she narrowed her eyes.
"You! You are already aware of the enemy," she gasped out when she noticed how the Prince's eyes had tightened at the mention of the 'Great Other.'
Yet the Prince answered her no more as he asked a question of his own.
"Where are you taking me?" he questioned, and she took a second to compose herself before she answered.
"To the place where you shall see the truth, see your true destiny..." she began as she glanced out the window.
"...to Volantis."
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SER JAMIE LANNISTER
Jamie had seen much in his life since he had donned the white cloak. He had seen the King force himself on his wife daily, seen him berate his own father, watched him shrink away from shadows. He had watched Felsh peel off of men as the fire roared around them, burning them till nothing remained of them but charred bones.
He had seen nearly every atrocity one could think of happen in front of his eyes as he stood beside the cackling form of their monarch as he burnt off men for nothing but a simple jape. Yet, even with all the atrocities he had seen, he was glad that he had joined the Kingsguard when he had, for otherwise, he would have been forced to witness the tragedy that had taken place in these Halls just some years prior to when he had donned the cloak.
The tragedy that was the burning of Prince Daemon Targaryen. Many whispered of it to this day, of how the King had condemned his own son to the most cruel death. They spoke of the roaring flames that touched the ceiling, of a fire that ran so hot that it nearly melted the very barrel in which it was lit.
And they spoke of screams. Screams that are said to have shaken the very foundation of the Red Keep. Jamie had been acquainted with the given Prince. Both of them had met each other a few times, and he had been fond of the second son of King Aerys, who would often treat him like a younger brother. They would write to each other as well, and when the news of his death had come, it had shaken him to the core.
Yet now he was still once more as he watched two dozen men take control of the throne room as a masked man slowly walked to the center of the Hall, his steps measured and his face covered by a thick steel mask, with only slits placed for him to see.
Slits that showed amethyst orbs, similar to those belonging to the King, sat beside him and raged on.
"Impossible," he gasped as he saw the color of the eyes through the slits in that mask, and for some reason was reminded of a young Prince he met in his youth, a Prince that had no place being here.
"Is it really you?" she questioned, and he saw those eyes soften as they glanced at the Martell Princess before a small voice rang out across the throne room.
"It has been quite some time, Elia," he said softly, and he watched as the Princess's eyes widened at those words and tone. The softness so reminiscent of a Prince thought long gone.
Yet that just aroused his suspicion even further, the Princess had known the Prince much longer than he, they had been friends for years, and though him and the Prince would often write to each other, the Prince was much more famous and entrenched in the circle of Princess Elia or more specifically in her friend, the maiden of Dorne, Ashara Dayne.
He then turned away from her and began to walk forward, his steps measured still as his sword dragged on behind him. Its blade had a characteristic smoky pattern on it, making him suspect that the blade was made of Valyrian Steel, its hilt rather simple except for a gleaming red ruby emboldened into it.
"I am Daemon Targaryen! Son of Aerys Targaryen, brother to Rhaegar Targaryen and...." And he stilled at those words as he saw the Prince look straight at the King beside him, who was huffing violently, his hands shaking as the Prince's men cleared up the path in front of the throne for him.
"....and I am the one who shall rebuild the legacy of House of the Dragon!" he announced as he stepped forward and pointed his blade at the King.
The King's eyes widened as he frothed at the mouth and pointed at the proclaimed Prince with a shaky hand.
"YOU! YOU LIARRRRR! IT CANNOT BE! I SAW YOU BRUN! BURN IN THIS VERY HALL!" he shouted, and the Prince nodded.
"Indeed you did," the Prince replied as he pointed to the mask.
"And I carry the scars of that day with me even today, yet you forget one thing," he announced as he suddenly took off the glove from his hand and thrust it into the fire beside him, the fire which had been lit for the execution of the last Hand, Lord Qarlton.
"Fire..." he began as Jamie's eyes widened, as many in the court, including the King beside him, gasped.
"...cannot kill a Dragon!" the Prince announced, and if there was doubt about the Prince's heritage, it was gone now.
He was a Targaryen of the blood.
"YOU!! YOU!! KIL HIM! KILL HIM NOW! I WANT HIM DEAD!" the King shouted maniacally, and the guards around the throne were the first to react as they drew their blades and rushed toward the Prince.
Yet he remained unperturbed as his own men formed up on him and clashed with the Royal guards, and the whole hall was filled with sounds of metal clashing against metal.
The Prince's men were strong, their armor thick and their blades sharp as they began to overpower the guards, yet his eyes remained fixed on the two Royal guards that made it past the Prince's men and headed towards the Prince.
"AGHH!" they both raised their blades and brought them down at the Prince, who finally showed a shift in his pace as he halted and raised his blade, blocking the swords of the Royal guards. One of them backed off and was about to attack again when the Prince moved once more, his steps a blur as he slid the guard's blade to the side and stepped behind him, slashing without a glance and cleaving the head off cleanly in a single strike.
The other guard was disturbed as the headless corpse of the Royal guard fell down to the ground yet the man persisted and attacked the Prince once stepped aside and brought down his blade at the arms of the guard, cutting through his armor and separating his arms, making the man scream in pain as he fell down to his knees.
"AGHHH!"
The Prince didn't even spare the men a simple glance as he continued in his stride, his steps unhurried yet this time. They carried with them a splash of liquid as he stepped through the pool of blood and guts that now littered the floor of the Iron throne. His men, nearly as ferocious as him had slain most of the castle guards around the throne and could have overwhelmed him yet they remained standing here at the foot of the monstrosity that was the Iron throne, as the Prince walked up the molten blades of Aegon's enemies, his sword still screeching as it slid across the molten metal of the throne as only he remained between the King and the Prince, whose body was now half dyed in scarlet.
"YOU!" the King's shout broke him out of his trance as he stepped forward and pushed himself infront of the King as the King shouted.
"KILL HIM! KILL HIM NOW!" he frothed madly as he felt his hand on the hilt of his blade shake with a s light tremor as the Prince inched closer and closer, the sound of his steps ringing across the whole throne room which had become quiet except the sad whimpers of the dying guards.
Their eyes met as the Prince came to a halt about five steps from him, and his raspy voice cut in.
"Step aside, Ser Jamie. You and I both know that it is the right thing to do," he offered, and he glanced across the hall and could see little to no movement. The lords who often swore undying fealty to Aerys were quiet and pale. Some stood there with half-concealed smiles on their faces, yet none of them moved to aid their King, none of them made to follow their oaths.
He wished he could do the same. He wished it truly. For a fifteen-year-old Jamie Lannister joining the Kingsgaurd had been a dream, to be a part of the noble order that protected the monarch that governed over them all. He had been elated when he had donned the white cloak to join the ranks of the likes of Ser Barristan the Bold, the White Bull, and his ideal, the sword of the morning, Ser Arthur Dayne.
Yet those dreams had shattered as quickly as he had watched the King burn and main men for joy and rape his own lady wife as he stood guard outside.
"I cannot do that," yet he had sword those oaths, and he would keep them, for that was the duty of Kingsgaurd, for a KIngsgaurd didn't judge a King, no, they only guarded him.
And with that, he drew his own blade. As the Prince's eyes narrowed, the red ruby in his own blade gleamed brightly as the Prince gripped his blade with two hands and took his own stance.
"Then so be it," he said, and Jamie could feel his chest hammering as he felt the whole throne room vanish from his conscience, as his gaze narrowed onto the Prince who seemed unnerved.
"KILL HIM!" the King's roar prompted him, as he stepped down and brought down his blade forcing the Prince to sidestep. His sword clattered on the steps, sending a screeching noise across the throne room as he twisted his hand and slashed it at the side of the Prince, yet the Prince blocked his strike. Their swords clashed, and the Prince parried the strike and pushed him back.
CLANG!
Jamie steadied himself as the King continued to scream behind him, yet he pushed it down as he rose up once more and struck again and again, yet the Prince was able to parry his strikes each time, until suddenly, after pushing him back, the Prince didn't relent and jumped up two steps, making his eyes widen as the Prince struck him on the side with his boot, making him wince as he brought down his blade onto him, yet he rolled to the side and before the Prince could react, slashed at his side.
Yet the Prince jumped up a step, and as his blade struck the steps, he put a foot on it and then brought his own blade down, yet not at him.
No, at his sword.
"AGH!" he heard him shout as the blades clashed, and he felt the weight in his hand lessen as his sword broke, unsettling his footing. And then, before he could steady himself, the Prince kicked him in the face, sending him rolling across the steps of the Iron Throne; his helmet came off and rolled down farther down as he halted his fall and held onto one of the protruding hilts.
"AGH" " He winced in pain, as his face stung, as the Prince continued his ascent, stepped up to the throne, and stood right above his father, the King.
King Aerys was pale, his face ashen white as he looked around maniacally, and Jamie saw him reach for the dagger in his belt, yet the Prince was faster.
"ARGH!" the King screamed as the Prince nailed the King's hand to the throne with his own Valyrian steel dagger, making the King scream in pain.
"Someone should have done this years ago," and with that whisper, the Prince swung his blade once more, and the screams began to lessen as the King's head was cut clean off, showering the Iron Throne with thick red blood, and the King's head rolled down the steps, coming to a halt right in front of him.
King Aerys's eyes were wide and shaking as the blood drained away, his teeth white and crooked, as blood dripped from his mouth. The Crown rolled down further to the foot of the throne where stood all the lords and the Princess, watching in sheer horror as the Prince removed the King's body from the throne and, after turning towards them, all sat down on it.
His sword lay there beside his leg, his mask, now caked with blood which dripped down, giving him a menacing look, the ruby of his head gleaming as his voice rang out throughout the throne room.
"Kneel!" and it was as if in a trance, as the Lords below the Iron Throne bent their knees at his command, their heads lowered until only two people remained standing.
He and Princess Elia of Dorne looked toward the Prince with a complicated expression.
He feared the worst, for by line of succession, her son was to rule after Rhaegar, yet Prince Aegon was but a babe. Would he push for his claim?
Yet he saw the Princess reach for the Crown, her movements slow and dignified as she picked it up from the ground and began to ascend the steps once more. Only the sound of her steps arched across the throne room as she ascended beyond him and towards the Prince, who sat on the throne, unnerved by her movement.
She stepped infront of him, and he saw her lips move, the words too soft for him to hear, the answer equally so.
And then she lowered her back and placed the throne on the Prince's head, signifying his ascension to the Throne.
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(P)(A)(T)(R)(E)(O)(N) / Drkest
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A/N: Well, he is right about one thing!