[Chapter Size: 2700 Words.]
Third Person POV.
King's Landing.
...
...
The Throne of Winter, the Salt Throne, the Throne of the Lord of the Rivers, the Golden Throne, the Storm Throne, the Desert Throne, and the Grassland Throne.
Eight thrones had been placed around the Iron Throne, something Daemon had made a point of doing, leaving only a space for the Throne of the Vale, which would be his next target to place in that row later.
Perhaps that space could be filled by his children and grandchildren in the future, while he would also make a special chair for his wife to sit beside him as queen...
"Are you collecting chairs now?" Ygritte was alone with Daemon in the throne room, watching him arrange those thrones. She crossed her arms as she observed Daemon's reaction.
He had placed the thrones that night, after returning from the south and settling his affairs there.
Daemon heard her, but did not even look at her, continuing to observe the thrones surrounding the Iron Throne.
"Did you know that Aegon the Conqueror, after managing to take almost all the kingdoms, with the exception of Dorne, ordered more than a thousand blades from his enemies to be melted down to create the Iron Throne? A rather interesting symbol, I have to admit." She spoke casually.
"Well, I basically did the same. Even more than he did, since I conquered Dorne as well. But I came from the North. I conquered everything there first. I took the Throne of Winter, then went to Pyke, killed a false Greyjoy king, and took his Salt Throne. It was easy to conquer Riverrun and take the Throne of the Lord of the Rivers. I went to Casterly Rock and took the Golden Throne. The rest you already know. I simply went to Dorne, Storm's End, and the Reach to take the other three thrones, while returning the Iron Throne to its rightful place."
"So you expect people to start making songs about it?" she asked.
Daemon displayed a smile. "They will make songs about it. They've already called me the Reborn Conqueror. It's funny how, throughout history, many children were called as great as the Conqueror simply because they were heirs to the throne, yet no one truly managed to do what the Conqueror did back then. Not even taking Dorne for a period of time proved effective. In the end, the Martells yielded through a royal marriage and some political arrangements." He shrugged.
"It's no wonder the Martells still held the title of princes to this day. Well... until I eliminated the last of them."
Ygritte said nothing, while Daemon continued observing the thrones.
"But I am not like the Conqueror. I became something greater than him. Something that not even he, with his three dragons, could handle."
Silence lingered for a few moments.
"And the North and the other kingdoms? Are they happy that you took their thrones?" she finally asked, breaking that silence.
"No, they are not pleased at all with what I did." Daemon shrugged.
"Of course they wouldn't be. But they can't really say anything either. They just stayed silent and more or less accepted the current situation. What else could they do?" He laughed before turning back to her, tired of looking at a bunch of chairs.
"Come. We have nothing else to do here." Daemon said this while leaving the servants to work on cleaning the throne room. They had only been waiting for him at that moment, since he himself had asked them to wait a little while as he entered the room to be alone for some time and admire the new thrones.
Thus, they left, signaling to the servants that they could clean the place. There was already another man wearing a maester's chain waiting for them, as he had fully assumed the role of Grand Maester of the Red Keep from that day onward.
"Maester Marwyn, has Stannis settled well on Dragonstone?" he asked.
The man should have already settled in the previous day. While traveling on his dragon, Daemon had received a letter that morning.
"Yes, Your Majesty. The extraction will begin later today. Many people from King's Landing accepted the work and were taken there as you had suggested..."
"Excellent." Daemon nodded.
He himself had suggested taking, instead of troops, people from King's Landing who wanted to earn some coins working in the mines of Dragonstone. There would only be enough guards to prevent riots, since those people could be somewhat troublesome and do unexpected things.
Around twelve thousand people had been hired. Daemon had a fortune, enough to pay them. And later, he would collect it back through taxes from the kingdoms.
"Any letter from the Iron Bank?" Daemon asked.
"No, Your Majesty. There has been none."
Daemon nodded. "Did young Lord Velaryon take his medicine yesterday?"
"Yes. In just a few more days, he is already showing some improvement. The coughing is less frequent, as I noticed yesterday, and he seemed very hopeful, to the point of crying when I delivered his medicine..." said the maester.
"That is great. The boy already knew he was going to die. Knowing that he may live longer is something he cannot handle so easily..."
"If you could speak a little about this disease, I would like to document it," Marwyn added.
Daemon nodded. "Of course. We will discuss Lord Velaryon's condition tonight while I am preparing the potion for him."
There was no problem with that. In fact, it would be good for that world to gain knowledge of some diseases that they basically treated as curses or death sentences, without any explanation.
"Where is Lord Tully?" Daemon asked.
Despite being able to find out through his abilities, he did not want to simply do everything himself. It was not by chance that he had men serving him.
"He is with the army outside the walls. Organizing them, Your Majesty," the maester informed him.
"Very well. I will meet with him later."
"Is there anything else I need to do, Maester?" Daemon asked.
"Well, there are many lords seeking an audience with Your Majesty."
"That was already expected." Daemon murmured.
"But I am very busy at the moment. I will leave the audiences for the afternoon."
"Lady Ygritte, your lessons begin shortly," the maester reminded her. Ygritte immediately huffed upon hearing that.
"Go to your lessons, Ygritte." Daemon said.
Maester Marwyn was overseeing her lessons at that moment, while Ygritte could only sigh. Daemon had asked her to get used to life in the south; she needed to learn the basics. Even the stubborn and wild Ygritte should compare life in the North to life in the south. One was far more comfortable than the other.
And with those words, she ended up obeying, while Daemon continued on alone alongside Sandor Clegane, who had been accompanying him since they left the throne room.
His eyes turned to the man. "I want to train a little. Would you become my sparring partner?" Daemon asked.
"I thought you had already practiced a bit with those seven knights," Sandor said with a certain amount of irritation and caution.
"That was not training. I acted to kill. Do not worry, I will not do such a thing to a Kingsguard... unless he gives me a reason to." Daemon said that calmly.
Clegane was certainly not very pleased, but he nodded. What else could he do? Thus, they walked outside, receiving looks and bows from everyone they encountered along the way.
"How will you choose the next Kingsguard, Your Majesty?" Sandor asked from behind, curious.
Daemon thought for a few moments. "I still have five to choose. I would have preferred Ser Barristan to be here, but I think it is already possible to reap some rewards. Many good seeds are gathered in the capital at this moment."
And he had the ability to see auras. He could find people with golden auras, individuals who would hardly betray him and who would be of great help to the realm.
They stepped out into the courtyard, where several knights were training. Mostly Daemon's allies, who were now more comfortable within the Red Keep.
He even found Robb Stark training with some men from other kingdoms. He had made his decision regarding the Westerling and decided to annul the marriage and send her to the Silent Sisters. After all, she had taken part in the Red Wedding and had taken poison for their child, killing him in her womb. Daemon easily annulled the marriage with a letter after Robb made his decision.
And Daemon knew that his cousin had gained a certain prestige as a military genius during the war. Even though he was still quite naïve politically, something that had led to his own downfall, his strategic mind remained, and many knights of the south respected him for it.
If they knew what he had done to Roose Bolton, they said nothing. After all, Robb had thrown sand into Bolton's eyes while he was surrounded in order to eliminate him quickly during the conquest of King's Landing.
In any case, all training stopped when they saw the king approaching.
Outside in the courtyard, Tytos Blackwood was currently serving as the Master-at-Arms of the fortress.
"Your Majesty, do you intend to train?" the man greeted him.
Daemon nodded. "Hello, Lord Blackwood. I'm going to spar a little with my Kingsguard, just to warm up."
"Of course. Your Majesty, make yourself comfortable," the man replied.
Daemon then told Sandor Clegane to keep wearing the same armor while he himself put on his own using magic. It would be better to fight on equal terms with a man wearing the full white cloak and armor.
He pulled Blackfyre from his personal inventory and positioned himself in front of Sandor under the gaze of everyone who had stopped to watch the king's fight.
Then the two began to fight. Obviously, it was a one-sided battle. No one could say that Sandor would have any advantage after everything they had already seen Daemon do.
Clegane seemed quite cautious, but Daemon did not display his true mobility. Whenever he struck him, he reduced the force of his attacks enough to leave only a few scratches on the armor.
Thus, they continued fighting and practicing for some time, until Sandor could no longer endure it and fell to his knees, exhausted.
Daemon smiled at him. "Very good."
He congratulated him before turning his attention to the crowd.
"You will be my next partner." Daemon pointed at Blackwood—not Tytos, but his son. The man, who was already serving the king by helping maintain public security, looked stunned but nodded.
"Of course, Your Majesty."
"You don't need to wear heavy armor." Daemon began removing his own armor with ease, the pieces falling to the ground before disappearing moments later.
"Let's fight on equal terms. If you land a hit on me, you win."
The man nodded, knowing full well that such a thing would be nearly impossible. Not even Sandor Clegane had managed to come close to scratching Daemon's armor. The only thing anyone had managed to touch while trying to attack Daemon during the entire fight was his sword itself.
Daemon had chosen Blackwood for a reason. He had seen a golden aura around the man. In the end, Blackwood fell to the ground with a steel sword positioned against his throat while he breathed heavily.
Daemon continued selecting more and more men with golden auras. He wanted to test all of them.
He spent the entire rest of the morning defeating each one without suffering even a single hit.
After everything they had already witnessed, it was no longer surprising. Even so, it remained an incredible sight for everyone present.
A man who could not be touched by a blade. A level of martial skill that surpassed every other warrior in their memories. Even Arthur Dayne, whom some still remembered from tournaments in their youth, could not compare to Daemon Targaryen.
The same man who had defeated seven knights alone. Whether he had used magic or not, the result was there for everyone to see.
He was relentless. And another knight fell with each bout.
After the training, Daemon joined his closest companions during lunch in the royal chambers and, during the afternoon, went to the throne room, where he began receiving numerous requests for audiences.
Daemon had done that in Winterfell, but after listening to the common folk, he now had to listen to nobles, and he certainly did not like it one bit.
Most of them asked for favors. Some allies sought advantages over defeated enemies. Others sought rewards, benefits, and even marriages.
Daemon merely shook his head, somewhat irritated by all of it. He gave the same answer to everyone: he would study each case once the government was ready to be fully implemented.
When he left the audience chamber at the end of the afternoon, he was irritated. He remembered why he hated politics so much.
He could see the greed present in practically every aura that approached him.
Later, he met with Brynden Tully, who was preparing the armies.
"They will be ready in three days," Brynden informed him.
Daemon nodded. He could simply advance with his dragon, fly to the Eyrie, take the throne, kill Baelish, imprison Lysa, and recover Sansa.
Even so, he had summoned a force of twenty thousand men along with his dragon. They would dock at Gulltown and begin a conquest that should not last more than a moon throughout the Vale.
After all, the Vale needed to understand its situation after simply abandoning the wars and remaining neutral, waiting to see who would become the next king.
Considering Baelish's mind, it was entirely possible that they had been waiting for both sides to weaken before striking.
The letters had not yet been answered, but within two days at most, they would receive a response.
"Very well. Thank you, Lord Tully." With those words, Daemon left the area and went to meet the young Velaryon, while Marwyn also showed interest in the disease and watched as Daemon prepared the potion.
The following day, Daemon bid farewell to the people of the North, who began boarding their ships and departing alongside the armies, leaving King's Landing behind and heading toward White Harbor, from where they would return to their homes and begin organizing the North for the arrival of the South.
Daemon would not forget their help. He intended to grant them certain privileges, perhaps even a tax reduction for a few years.
At the same time, he also owed Lord Cerwyn and Lord Tallhart for the gold and silver mines he had detected within their territories. That would be a gift in return for the help they had offered him when they allied with him while he was still fighting the Ironborn and the Bolton soldiers.
The young Lord Velaryon had been practically cured. Some residual effects would still disappear over the coming days, but he no longer needed the potions. Upon learning that he would live, he cried at Daemon's feet. Daemon merely told him that he could repay him by becoming someone whose life had been worth saving.
Meanwhile, letters were sent to all the houses of Westeros requesting Valyrian steel swords and resources.
At the same time, part of the Redwyne fleet stopped in the Reach to collect supplies, while another part advanced toward King's Landing, and a large number of ships were already prepared to transport the men who would march against the Vale.
In fact, Daemon had already received a response from the Vale. Many still stood by Lysa, but others openly spoke of their dissatisfaction.
Daemon sent another letter. In it, he made it clear that he was going to attack the Vale. With the exception of a few, most of them were nothing more than cowards hiding behind their mountains while Westeros burned.
In any case, he would make them kneel, one way or another. With those words written, he began sealing the letters destined for each of the lords.
While he worked, he kept one eye on Littlefinger. He could easily see that he had been quite nervous lately.
With Daemon having won so ruthlessly against the Blackfyres and exterminated two powerful families with such ease, Petyr Baelish was finally beginning to understand the kind of enemy he was facing.
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