The young Tybolt Lannister made his way through the halls of Casterly Rock with practiced ease. He wore a gold doublet with red patterns. His neatly combed golden hair was slicked back, giving a clear view of his pale green eyes to the world. At two and ten, the boy had walked through these halls many times in his life. This was his home. His legacy. He knew it like the back of his hand.
The servants whom he passed by all bowed their heads when they saw him. The guards did the same. He was the heir to Casterly Rock, after all. They all knew who he was, who he would become, so it was only natural.
Lately, his free time had been reduced because of his status.
Recently, his father had had him sit in during meetings with his bannermen and whenever petitioners arrived to plead their case before the Lord of Casterly Rock with matters concerning the Westerlands and nearby villages and keeps. His father said it was important for Tybolt to understand the every day functions of a lord. It was not always about glory and battles like the songs raved about. No, the responsibilities of a lord were mostly monotonous. There was more ink and paper than he expected. However, these matters were still crucial, and the realm relied on them for it. The gold needed to be kept flowing, after all.
Tybolt readily accepted these lessons even if deep down he found them a little boring. The last raven he had received from Aenys made mention of his friend going off to the Vale to fight in a battle against the mountain clans who were harassing the towns and villages in the area. It was far different from what Tybolt was doing. In all honesty, Tybolt longed to join him, to partake in battle alongside Aenys. Wouldn't that bring much glory to the banner of the lion if it fought next to the dragon?
Tybolt held many such aspirations. He wanted to stand next to Aenys. He knew deep in his heart that his friend was going to do great things. He wanted to be a part of it at all costs. Not just for the glory it would bring, but for the fun of it all.
While distance and responsibility kept them apart, their friendship still remained. Even though it had been many years after their first meeting, they had not abandoned the other.
As he grew older, Tybolt began to see for himself just how much his father was subtly pushing for him to cultivate a friendship with the Targaryen prince. He was no longer naive. He understood why his father was doing this. Aenys was the only dragonrider in the world. He also possessed the traditional Targaryen looks that many in the realm sought for during these divided times. It was a direct rejection to the Martells and the Dornish. They were the source of the bitterness that many of the lords still clung on to. While that sentiment was not as strong in the Westerlands as some other places such as the Reach and Stormlands, many of his father's bannermen did not appreciate the king's preference toward the Dornish. Even now as rumor spread that Queen Myriah was near death, many were secretly gladdened by it.
Perhaps with the queen's death, the king would listen to reason and not favor the Dornish as much.
Tybolt was one of the few who focused on more than just Aenys' looks, though. His friend's blood also made him stand out from any other living Targaryen, and Tybolt wasn't talking about the fact that he had managed to hatch a dragon's egg in his cradle. No. It had to do with his mother, the quiet and pious Lady Aelinor Penrose. She was the granddaughter of the late Princess Rhaena Targaryen, daughter of the infamous Rogue Prince. This fact, in addition to King Daeron trying to win over the Marcher lords due to his own unpopular marriage, was one of the deciding factors that led Prince Aerys to be married to her. Thanks to this union, Aenys could not only trace his line back to Prince Baelon the Brave but also Prince Aemon Targaryen, the oldest surviving son of King Jaehaerys Targaryen. It was not a claim that anyone else in his family could make about themselves.
Tybalt knew this because he had done his studies on the subject alongside the maester of Casterly Rock. The maester was just one of many who were still trying to understand why Aenys was able to hatch a dragon egg while none of his cousins had been able to. According to the maester, the popular opinion dominating the Citadel at this time was that it was Aenys' unique lineage which marked him as unique in his family. Perhaps just being a descendant of Princess Rhaena was enough. After all, she had been the last dragonrider before Aenys. Maybe there was something at play there.
The maesters were quick to try and explain this phenomenon through natural means. None of them dared mention "magic" in their many debates on this topic. They could not. It would be as if they were admitting defeat.
Tybolt found this line of thinking shortsighted. He was no expert on the topic. He would never claim to be. He would also never claim to understand magic. To him, most mentions of the subject were just mere exaggerations. However, his father had always instructed him to be pragmatic. In this instance, the most pragmatic solution pointed to magic.
The Faith would probably not enjoy such an answer, but Tybolt cared little about blind faith too.
It hardly made a difference to him at the end of the day. Whether it was because of an unforeseen force or because of Aenys' lineage, at the end of the day he possessed a dragon. He was a legitimate prince of the realm.
And many lords were eager to stand by him and drive the Dornish away from the capital once and for all.
Tybolt already knew where he would stand in the future.
Pushing these thoughts to the side for now, Tybolt stepped into his father's solar after announcing his presence.
His father, Damon Lannister, was seated by the largest table with a letter in hand. On the table were many other papers. They were either documents that he had to look over or private correspondence.
Tybolt closed the door behind him before joining his father by the table, taking a seat for himself.
His father was old. He was already halfway through his fifth decade in this life. Deep down, Tybolt knew that it would not be long before he became the Lord of Casterly Rock. A part of him thought he was prepared to assume the responsibility of the title. Most of him just wanted his father to live as long as possible.
"I'm glad you came quickly."
"You summoned me, father."
Of course Tybolt would come as quickly as possible.
His father set the letter down on the table between them.
"A raven has arrived from King's Landing. The king brings word of victory from the Vale and the Red Mountains."
Oh yes. While Tybolt was more interested in Aenys' campaign in the Vale, he had heard about the so-called rebellion breaking out in the Red Mountains. Someone calling themselves the Vulture King had risen up against King Daeron II in defiance to his rule. There were whispers that the Vulture King resented Dorne's integration into the Iron Throne, but nothing was certain. Tybolt hadn't given the matter much thought, not seeing the rebellion as much of a threat.
It seemed as if he was right.
"So Aenys succeeded?" Tybolt wanted to know about what had happened in the Vale.
His father nodded. "Yes. With surprising efficiency. He won the battle all by himself."
His father's response made Tybolt pause.
"By himself?" he repeated, curious.
"He and his dragon burned thousands of the mountain clans in a single day, effectively reducing their flesh and camps into ash. They never stood a chance." Damon allowed himself to smile a little. "Of course, the king made no mention of this in his letter, but he will not be able to hide this. Not when so many lords saw it happen with their own eyes."
Tybolt did not need to wonder what his father meant by this. Either Damon had spies who reported to him in the Vale or the lords were already spreading the devastation Aenys and his dragon brought down on the mountain clans all by themselves.
It was probably a combination of the two.
But thousands burned in a single day….it made Tybolt's palms sweaty. It was as if a second Field of Fire had happened, only smaller in scale. Tybolt doubted that the mountain clans could field more than 4,000 warriors, and that was only if they all combined their forces. While not wholly familiar with the savage tribes, Tybolt had done some research after Aenys told him about the campaign.
It was still unbelievable. Aenys was only a few years older than Tybolt, and already he had achieved a great victory all by himself. Tybolt's only regret was that he had not been there to see it for himself.
Damon began to tap his finger on the table as he spoke. "As you can imagine, word of this event will quickly spread. Many will see that Aenys and his dragon are more than just mere decorations."
The Dance had happened long before Tybolt was born. Only a handful of men still alive remembered the last dragon before its death. The strength of the dragon's fire had started to become forgotten.
Not anymore.
His father had more to say. "The king has called for a tourney at King's Landing. A celebration he calls it, for the two victories. I'm sure he has other motives."
Tybolt could guess a couple. "Are we going, father?"
"Yes." Damon lacked any hesitation. "We must go. These next few years will be important, my son. The king is old. Either in my lifetime or when you succeed me, there will be a new king crowned. We cannot be left behind. You must remain Aenys' closest ally."
Tybolt knew he was not the only one.
"Father, the Baratheons-"
"I know." Damon did not need to hear the rest of what Tybolt wanted to say. A small smile formed on his face. "There are rumors about you, Tybolt. You and Lyonel Baratheon. Many know that the two of you have formed a close friendship with Aenys."
Tybolt did not know that. He knew his status as heir to Casterly Rock was prestigious, but he still believed that Aenys would be more talked about than him.
"What do you think of Lyonel Baratheon?" Damon asked him.
Tybolt took a few moments to think about his answer.
"I do not write to him as frequently as I do with Aenys. But I know where his mind is at." Lyonel was surprisingly straightforward with his words and intentions, which Tybolt had come to respect somewhat. "He considers Aenys to be a great warrior like him and respects him. He wishes to face him in combat one day."
Damon considered this. "So you would say that he holds Aenys in higher regard than Prince Valarr?"
Tybolt did not have to think about his answer this time. "Yes, father."
Lyonel had little to say about Valarr Targaryen. Tybolt himself didn't have much thoughts on the older prince. He just knew that he preferred Aenys over him.
"I wonder what that old fool is thinking," Damon murmured, his face pensive.
Tybolt knew who his father was speaking of: Lyonel's father, Lord Symeon Baratheon. While not the closest of allies, Tybolt was certain that his father and Lord Symeon were on good terms.
Damon spoke again. "Continue as you have, Tybolt. And prepare yourself. Daemon Blackfyre will no doubt be there as well. And wherever the black dragon goes, trouble is sure to follow."
Tybolt would keep that in mind.
"I understand, father."
It was not long after that his father dismissed him. Tybolt left the private solar and stepped out into the hall again. He took a few moments to compose himself as his thoughts drifted to the future.
'So you did it, Aenys.'
Aenys had proven his skill with his dragon. Tybolt was eager to see his friend again. He was sure that Aenys would have plenty to say about the battle.
A small head peeking out from one of the corners of the hall caught Tybolt's attention. His eyes softened when he realized who it was.
"Gerold. If you are going to try and sneak around, you have to do better than that."
His younger brother by two years came sulking out from the corner. Unlike Tybolt's neatly combed hair, his brother preferred to let his grow and hang down his back like a lion's mane. His hair too was golden much like Tybolt's. His green eyes were darker than Tybolt's.
"I heard father summoned you, brother," Gerold said softly, trying not to sulk too much as he walked up to Tybolt. "I was curious."
Tybolt chuckled. "It's nothing serious. He wanted to inform me that we will be visiting King's Landing soon."
Gerold looked interested. Unlike Tybolt, he had never visited King's Landing before. No doubt he wanted to see the city with his own eyes.
"Can I come?"
"Of course."
Their father didn't make mention of it, but Tybolt doubted the man would leave Gerold behind. He was old enough to travel now.
Gerold smiled widely. It was an innocent one. Sometimes Tybolt worried that his brother smiled less and less as he grew older.
"I'll be ready as soon as possible, brother. You will see!"
Gerold did not wait for a response. Rather, he took off running down the hall toward his chambers to begin packing right away.
Tybolt merely chuckled as he watched his younger brother vanish down the hall.
'He is still a child, after all.'
He was glad for it.
---
Lyonel Baratheon had three younger brothers and one younger sister. The oldest of the three brothers was around the same age as Aenys at five and ten. His name was Garon Baratheon.
Much like Lyonel, Garon was tall and sturdy. Either because of age or less practice in the training yard, he was still smaller when compared to Lyonel who was a couple of years older. Garon had the black hair and blue eyes like the rest of his family. While Lyonel wore his dark hair long and free, with it reaching past his shoulders, Garon kept his dark hair tied into a ponytail.
It was a rare bright morning at Storm's End. A storm had passed over the castle the night before. Now, there was no trace of it.
Garon had come to respect the weather because of its unpredictability. He respected Storm's End all the more for withstanding said weather.
Anyway, with such a beautiful morning, there was a good mood in the main hall of the castle as Garon had his breakfast with the rest of his family. His one and only sister Esme, who was eight, spoke excitedly to their father and Lyonel about going hunting today. She shared their black hair and blue eyes. Like Lyonel, she allowed her hair to fan her back as she let it grow.
The third brother, Gowen Baratheon, snorted into his cup when he heard this. He shared the same sturdy body as his two other brothers. He was four and ten. "You spend too much time out in the forest, sister. Perhaps a day inside might do you some good."
Gowen was the laziest of the brothers who preferred to spend his time reading over doing anything physical, which included moving. Unfortunately for him, he was dragged to the training yard more often than not by Lyonel, hence his impressive physique for his age.
Esme scoffed. "There are more important things in this world than reading books, brother."
"How would you know? You rarely read."
"What did you say!?"
Lyonel laughed. It was loud, and it was booming. "Hahaha! I think the morning is too beautiful to spend it fighting among ourselves, don't you think?"
Gowen merely shrugged while Esme turned to him with excitement, forgetting all about her earlier annoyance.
"What do you say, brother? You spent all of yesterday in the training yard again! I think it's time to go hunting."
Lyonel flashed her a grin. "I cannot afford to let my skills get rusty, Esme. There will come a time when the realm will have need of it!"
Gowen looked bored. "What are you talking about? There's no war. Nothing is going to happen."
Sometimes Garon wished that he had his brother's optimism. Or was it that he didn't see the need to worry about anything?
'I suppose being the third son has its perks.'
Less responsibility.
Before the conversation could continue, their father's voice cut through the dining hall.
"I'm sure all of you have your own ideas about how to spend your day, but unfortunately you must start getting ready. Soon, we will be leaving for King's Landing. You will all be accompanying me."
Garon found himself sitting straight when he heard this. Lyonel did the same, his eyes brimming with excitement.
"King's Landing?" It was Garon who questioned their father first. "For what reason, father?"
"The king is holding a tourney to celebrate the victories over the mountain clans in the Vale and the so-called Vulture King."
So Lords Dondarrion and Caron had succeeded in their campaign. That was good to know. The only good Dornishman was a dead one as far as Garon was concerned. How unfortunate that he had not been able to be a part of the battle. Perhaps next time, when he was of age.
Setting that aside, Garon found himself glancing at Lyonel who immediately stood up to his feet when he heard this.
"So Aenys did it then!?" The excitement was evident just from his voice.
"Aenys?" Esme looked curious. "What did he do?"
Gowen crossed his arms as he leaned back in his seat. "Are you deaf, sister? It's all that Lyonel has been talking about in the last several weeks."
Esme pouted. "I know that the prince went to the Vale! But I still do not know what he has done!"
The youngest brother, Durran Baratheon, looked up from his plate to say, "He won the battle. What else?"
He was much quieter than any of them, but there were times that he liked to chime in. Almost as if he was reminding them that he still lived.
"You should go easy on our sister, little brother," Gowen said. "I fear her head is only filled with thoughts of hunting and horses."
Esme glared at Gowen. "One of these days-"
"That's enough." Their father did not raise his voice. It was not often that Symeon Baratheon allowed himself to yell when in the presence of Esme and Durran. "I need not remind you how important this tourney will be. Your jokes are tolerated while in these walls, but outside this cannot be seen. You understand, don't you?"
While they all nodded, Esme and Durran did not understand the significance of father's words. The rest knew what their father's ambitions were and what he was really getting at.
'If you want to make Esme queen some day, then perhaps having her behave more appropriately might be a start,' Garon thought while eyeing his pouting sister.
Their father's scheme was nothing new or unique. Garon was certain that most of the houses in the Seven Kingdoms were thinking the same thing right about now. However, there was something that set them apart from most others, and that was Lyonel's friendship with Aenys Targaryen.
His older brother had little mind for politics. Lyonel was charismatic and formidable, sure, but he was also blunt and stubborn. He could also be oddly prideful and vengeful too. A very volatile set of traits to have for a lord, especially for a Lord of Storm's End. Anyway, his older brother wasn't interested in playing tricks or knew the finer arts of being subtle. Not most times anyway.
What Garon was trying to say was that their father did not send Lyonel to befriend Aenys for their own benefit. If Lyonel did not like Aenys, then he would not have bothered continuing to talk to him after all these years. It was something that occurred by chance, but it was not a chance that their father was willing to throw away. Through Lyonel's friendship with Aenys, their father hoped to seal a union between Esme and the prince.
'Aenys is already fifteen.'
It would not be long before a match was arranged for him. Garon was certain that the whole realm was watching and waiting for any news that came out of the Red Keep about any potential matches.
House Baratheon had been robbed of a queen two times before. One with the untimely death of Prince Aemon Targaryen, the heir to King Jaehaerys. And then again when Rhaenys Targaryen, the Queen Who Never Was, was passed over in favor of King Viserys I. As the daughter to Aemon Targaryen and Jocelyn Baratheon, she was seen as one of their own. Her black hair was a strong enough mark.
Aenys too carried the blood of the Stormlands in him. Their father wanted to strengthen that even further with a marriage to Esme. To him, it would wash away the taint that he carried as the grandson of a Dornish queen.
Garon did not know what was going to happen. A part of him was excited at the prospect of his hypothetical nephew being king one day. More than that, being a dragonrider. The fact that Baelor Targaryen was the current crown prince mattered little to Garon. It mattered even less to their father.
Years ago, when Daemon Blackfyre stood as the strongest opposition to King Daeron's reign, Symeon was reluctant to show his favor to the man. While disgruntled with the king's marriage and Prince Baelor's looks, he still respected Baelor enough to not turn his back on the red dragon. Baelor was still a skilled knight with a respectable personality. Symeon also put little faith in the rumors surrounding King Daeron's supposed true parentage.
A dragonrider changed things. A dragonrider carrying the Targaryen name with Stormlander blood in him only made Symeon all the more willing. After all, he was still being loyal to the red dragon. Now, he was one of the most eager lords to see Aerys become king after Daeron, only so that Aenys would one day inherit the throne. He wanted it so much that he was ready to bleed for this cause. It was something that only Garon and Lyonel understood. The rest of their siblings did not see just how uncertain the future really was.
As their father went on to explain what he knew about the battle at the Vale, Garon grew more certain that his father was making the right decision. Aenys was capable of burning thousands of men in a single day with his dragon. What could Baelor and his sons do against that?
"Wow." Esme's eyes were wide as she listened to their father's tale. "Do you think we will be able to see the dragon, father?"
Most girls her age would have felt fear or apprehension at the mere thought of the beast. She was the opposite.
'I suppose that's a benefit in this scenario.'
Their father smiled. "I hope so. I'm sure Lyonel can speak to the prince on your behalf."
Lyonel was too caught up in his own thoughts to respond. From the way his eyes were glowing with determination, Garon had a pretty good idea where his brother's head was at.
He knew that the next time Lyonel saw Aenys, he would demand a duel.
Gods save them all.
---
There was something strange occurring in Harrenhal.
Danelle could feel it in her very being, even if she did not know how to explain it.
It all started when the Targaryens returned from the Isle of Faces. A profound change had overtaken the Targaryen prince. Danelle did not have the words to properly explain what she could feel from the prince's aura alone. His fire remained, only now it seemed more tempered and full of life. It was warm and inviting, and for the past two nights she spent her time meditating on that sensation.
Under the prince's instruction, her brother had sent a raven to King's Landing informing the king of Aenys' current residence. He and Shiera were offered rooms in the historic castle as they informed her brother that they had no intention of leaving just yet.
This caused her brother Lucas to become a bit nervous about hosting the prince for so long. Sure, it brought attention to their family, but it was not the sort of attention that Lucas wanted hanging over their heads. While Manfryd and Jon were more than happy to cozy up to the prince for future gains, Lucas was more cautious about what road to take for the future. He did not want to be accused of treason by the king and crown prince.
While Danelle understood Lucas' reservations, she had no interest in the game of thrones that was raging around her. Politics were a distraction in her mind. Magic and its countless mysteries were her true purpose in this life.
It was for that reason that she spent the past three days shadowing Aenys and Shiera as they walked through the ruins of Harrenhal. Jon took it upon himself to personally guide them while Lucas consulted with Ser Lister Whent in private about how to approach the prince. The knight was skilled with a sword and had more martial leanings in comparison to her brother, so Danelle doubted that the knight's counsel would be anything but militarily minded.
At least the knight wasn't as bad as her bastard half-brother. For the past three days, all Jon could do was leer at Shiera while making not so discreet offerings for her to warm his bed. At least the fool was smart enough to do it while Aenys was not near. It did not take a genius to realize that there was something intimate between the prince and the former bastard of the Unworthy. They shared a room, after all.
Jon was jealous of that fact very much. He often complained about it to them when they were alone. He even complained to some of his fellow knights out in the open, not caring about who overheard him.
"Is it just because the boy has a dragon? Is that it? I'm certain I could defeat him in the yard."
True, Jon was very skilled with the sword. And his build was nothing to scoff at. He was the most massive of Danelle's brothers.
Danelle still thought he was an idiot.
Lucas glared at him every time he brought it up. "Silence, you fool. Do you not see the dragon resting inside our walls? Do you want to lose your life for a cunt that is not yours?"
Jon merely scoffed at Lucas' warnings, still believing that he was the better warrior. And because he was the better warrior, he deserved to have Shiera warming his bed every night. It was almost as if he was ignoring the fact that the prince had also been knighted. Danelle doubted that Aenys would have been knighted if he had not proved his skill in combat. At the very least, he carried Dark Sister with confidence.
The dragon was another topic altogether. Danelle had watched the beast hunt for its food for the past three days with remarkable accuracy. Rather than let the dragon be fed like a common animal, Aenys had her brother release pigs, sheep, and other manners of animals out into the open for his dragon to hunt at his leisure. Aenys said that it kept the dragon better entertained while maintaining its natural skills.
"I don't want her growing fat and lazy," he explained to Lucas on the second day with a laid-back grin.
Lucas did not argue with him.
Once news about the battle in the Vale reached them at Harrenhal, Danelle began to understand what the prince meant.
'Thousands of men burned in a single day.'
It was like something out of a story.
Something about that had her looking at the prince with a heavy-lidded gaze afterward.
Aenys and Shiera spent a lot of their time standing before the weirwood tree inside the godswood. Danelle did not know what they were doing there as they went in alone and asked to not be disturbed. All she knew was that she could always sense strong magic radiating from the godswood every time they were there. That same warm feeling that she experienced every time she was near the prince spread throughout the castle, almost as if the powerful magic was healing the very stones themselves.
Danelle was not the only one who could sense it. Even though they could not explain it, her brothers, the guards, the knights, and all the other servants residing inside Harrenhal felt uplifted as they were hit by the strange magic every afternoon. Almost as if they too were being cleansed and healed.
On the fourth day, Shiera approached Danelle. The beautiful woman wore one of Danelle's white dresses, which complimented her looks very well. Danelle thought that she had been gifted with her figure, possessing a well-endowed form. Shiera was even more blessed, to the point that the dress was almost strained by the woman's gifted chest. It caused the men and even some of the women to glance in her direction every time she walked past them. Danelle knew that her bastard brother could never stop staring when Shiera was near.
There was a reason why Shiera was considered the most beautiful woman in the realm. Danelle had thought that the rumors were exaggerated. She was wrong.
"You seem rather interested in my prince." Rather than offer any words of greeting, Shiera got straight to the point as she stood before Danelle just outside of the godswood.
Danelle's bright blue eyes looked at her without flinching. She would not be intimidated by Shiera.
"Don't you know? He's the prince darling at the moment. Everyone is interested in him. Perhaps I am just another maiden hoping to get close to him."
She did not dare say to become his "queen." Doing so would be the same thing as plotting against the king. Aenys was not the next in line for the throne, after all. Danelle was not eager to meet her doom just yet.
Shiera seemed amused by her response. "Yes, too true. I'm sure there are a number of lords who want nothing more than to stand at his side for their own benefit. Many have been abandoned by my brother's tendencies, and they long for retribution. But your desires are not so….common, are they?"
Danelle's eyes narrowed just a bit. "What do you mean?"
She knew for a fact that Shiera possessed magic. Aenys did too. However, Danelle was not ready to out herself so easily. She did not know what Shiera was plotting. She had not lived this long by being a fool.
"You know magic, don't you?"
Shiera's accusation was very straightforward, to the point that Danelle almost took a step back subconsciously. For some reason, the fact that Shiera might have been able to sense her own magic had never crossed Danelle's mind. Perhaps her arrogance at being the only one among her siblings to know magic had caused her to look down on Shiera, even without meaning to.
How careless of her.
Before answering, Danelle took a moment to glance around them. Sure enough, there was no one nearby. No doubt it was part of the reason why Shiera had decided to approach her now.
"And if I do?" She met Shiera's accusation with a challenge of her own. "Do you plan on informing my family?"
Shiera laughed softly. "You misunderstand me, Danelle Lothston. I have no intention of going against you. I would say it's the opposite."
The opposite?
"I have need of someone like you."
"What?"
Shiera gestured to the godswood behind her. "Do you want to see what my dear prince has been up to for the past few days? I'm sure your curiosity has been killing you."
Danelle hesitated. "What do you want of me?"
This was not a free offer.
"Your skills. From this day forth, pledge yourself to Aenys Targaryen. That is all."
Danelle held herself back from scoffing.
''That is all,' she says. What does she think a vow is?'
Danelle almost appreciated the brazenness with which the offer was presented. It was refreshing in a way, but perhaps also condescending.
"What do you know of me?"
Shiera did not answer but merely smiled while beckoning her forward with a finger.
Danelle hesitated for a moment longer before deciding to follow Shiera's request. With this choice, her fate was sealed.
'She knows.'
Danelle did not know how, but Shiera somehow knew of her warging abilities.
'But how? When?'
No one ever followed her. Danelle was certain that she had been careful.
Shiera did not give her an answer. She merely led Danelle deeper into the godswood. They walked past birches, oaks, and other trees. The godswood was the one place in the castle that seemed alive. And yet, the deeper they walked, the more Danelle realized that something had changed.
The whole of the godswood was more….green. There were even more trees. Flowers and even small animals now dotted the forest. The little stream that ran through the godswood had been reformed into a wider body of water. It was almost like a river now. It was as if the godswood had been transformed into a new world.
Everything was so….peaceful.
Danelle had not entered the godswood in some years, but she still remembered how it had once looked, and it was nothing like this.
"What is this?" She could not help but wonder out loud.
Shiera still did not give her an answer. Instead, she continued to lead her to where the weirwood stood.
While everything around it was green, the tree remained dead. Its wood remained blood white while the leaves retained their blood-red color. Worse, the angry face was still carved into its trunk. Danelle spotted the slashes that the infamous Rogue Prince had left upon the tree when he had once stayed here. Funny enough, the sword that had been used to cut the tree was now once again inside the castle, only in someone else's hand.
Speaking of which, Aenys Targaryen stood still before the weirwood tree. Unlike Shiera who had removed her riding gear, the young prince chose to keep wearing his. It fitted him well, so Danelle had no reason to complain.
Aenys was not moving an inch. It was almost as if he was in a deep sleep as he stood in silence.
Danelle knew better. She could practically feel the magic pouring out of the young prince in waves. And it was very soothing.
She began to put the pieces together.
'He's restoring life back to the land.'
Or perhaps it was more accurate to say that he was strengthening it? Either way, the effects were very clearly visible.
'His magic is different from mine.'
Danelle could hazard a guess where he had learned it. There was only one place that Aenys had traveled to before his transformation.
"I think it's about time you give up on your efforts, Aenys." Shiera called out to him. The woman stood beside Danelle, her face filled with delight. "I don't believe you'll succeed in transforming this husk of a spirit. Not at your level."
Transforming? Spirit?
'Interesting.' Danelle made sure to remember this piece of information just as Aenys opened his eyes.
He looked less enthusiastic than Shiera.
"Stupid fool. You would think they would know that I was trying to help them."
Laughing, Shiera walked over to his side and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I don't think they're capable of such thought anymore, my love."
Aenys merely grunted before turning away from the tree. Only when he did that did he realize that Danelle was standing in the godswood with him and Shiera.
His eyes narrowed as he took her in. Danelle found herself freezing under his gaze, something which soured her mood.
'He's younger than you. What do you have to fear?'
She would not cower like a defenseless maiden.
"Why is she here?" His eyes darted to Shiera for answers.
Shiera smiled as she patted him on the back. "She has magic."
"I know."
So he could sense her magic too? Danelle was forced to realize that perhaps her abilities were not as special as she had assumed. Talk about embarrassing.
"Be honest. You only knew after I hinted at it." Shiera's tone was full of jest.
Danelle perked up. 'Or maybe not.'
Aenys sighed. "Does it matter? Why is she here?"
"She has chosen to join us."
Danelle's first instinct was to deny Shiera's assertion, but one look from her was enough to silence the redhead. She knew what she had agreed to, but a part of her still valued her freedom. She did not want to be subservient to anyone, even if she found herself more and more compelled to stay near Aenys. The sensation of his magic was highly addictive.
"Oh?" Resting a hand on the sheathed Dark Sister, Aenys studied Danelle again. "That's surprising. I thought she would have something to say about me wanting to kill her brother."
Wait, what?
Once again, Danelle was on alert while Shiera chuckled.
"I had not gotten to that point, you know." She did not seem to care for Danelle's newfound trepidation. "I wanted to ease her into it."
Aenys did not seem to care either as he waved away her words. "Better she knows now. We're about to take our leave."
"Wait." Danelle looked between the two. "What are you talking about? Kill which brother?"
While Danelle did not have a strong relationship with any of her brothers, it did not mean that she wanted to see them dead. Especially not Lucas or Manfryd.
"The bastard." Aenys scowled. "He has overstepped."
Jon.
Danelle knew what this was about. "Are you really going to kill him?"
She liked Jon the least, but he was still her brother.
Aenys shrugged as he started to walk past her, his hand still resting on Dark Sister.
"I might just take a hand. Or a leg. I haven't decided yet."
That brought her little reassurance, especially the flippant way in which he spoke of it.
Still chuckling, Shiera beckoned Danelle with her finger again as she followed after Aenys.
"Come. We have much to discuss in the meantime."
Danelle realized that perhaps she had made a deal with the devil.
---
Lucas was ashamed. He knew Jon had been taking too many liberties with how often he leered at Shiera and expressed his desire to bed her. Not to mention his blatant disrespect toward Prince Aenys, not just by wanting to take away his lady but also badmouthing him for the past four days. Despite Lucas' many warnings to watch his mouth, Jon behaved poorly even when in public where servants and others could hear him.
Even so, Lucas still could not have imagined that Prince Aenys would approach his bastard brother to challenge him to a duel for everyone to witness. He did not state the reason for it. And yet, when Jon looked excited at the prospect, Lucas finally realized that this had been Jon's plot the entire time.
'Brother, you fool.'
Even if Jon won the duel, what would that do for their family's standing? Did he not realize how fragile the future was?
Despite Lucas wanting to step in, he was powerless to do anything as Jon led Prince Aenys outside. Meanwhile the servants who had overhead the exchange quickly went to alert everyone they could do about what was going to happen.
The situation only became worse when Lucas was forced to see the manifestation of his worries as the prince's dragon flew above their heads before it landed on the walls of the castle. This happened just as they stepped outside into the Flowstone Yard which served as the main training area of the massive castle. From there, the dragon perched itself on the high walls of the castle like a silent guardian as it towered over them.
Lucas almost audibly gulped at the sight of the beast. Many others did as they saw the dragon in all its glory once again. Even though he had caught glimpses of the dragon for the past four days, he still could not get used to it. It was an experience that could not be put into words.
'Just how does the prince command it?'
It was a question without an answer.
Unlike him, Jon did not seem bothered by the dragon's presence at all as he stood before Prince Aenys with his back straight, armored and ready for the duel.
Aenys did not wear armor. He was still dressed in his riding gear as he faced Jon, Dark Sister in hand.
Off to the side, Lucas noticed Shiera standing next to his sister as she whispered something into her ear. He was confused for a moment, caught off guard by the sight of the two women together. Since when had Danelle become friends with Shiera?
He was not able to think on it for too long as Manfryd hurried over to his side, his voice frantic as he said, "Brother, you have to stop this."
Lucas glared at him. "What would you have me do?" he hissed. "I warned Jon, repeatedly. He accepted the duel. Do you want to be the one to stand up to the one prince who not only wields a Valyrian steel sword but rides a dragon? Be my guest."
Lucas valued his life too much to stand up for Jon in this situation. The fool did not deserve it, not when he had literally asked for this.
Manfryd was silent, but his face said it all. He was worried.
He was not the only one.
Lucas had Ser Lister Whent officiate the duel in his place. He had used Jon's status as his brother to officially wash his hands of the situation, claiming that he could not be impartial. It was a weak argument, but no one called him out on it.
Neither Jon nor Prince Aenys traded words as they faced off. It seemed as if both understood why they were here. Only the onlookers whispered among themselves, wondering if they were fighting over Shiera's hand in marriage or something of the sort.
As always, the smallfolk loved to make up their own stories to satisfy their boredom.
No sooner had Ser Lister begun the duel than Aenys moved. The young prince was fast, faster than he had any right to be given his size. One moment he stood at a respectable distance from Jon. The next, he was stepping forward, almost dashing, and closed the distance between the two.
Jon was caught off guard too as he was just barely able to parry Aenys' first swing from Dark Sister, his eyes wide in alarm.
"What-"
He had no time to speak as Aenys was already attacking again. The prince took a wide side step to his left before lunging forward, thrusting Dark Sister right at Jon's side. Having just moments earlier parried Aenys' first swing, Jon was too slow to reposition his blade a second time to parry the follow up strike.
The bastard of Harrenhal cried out as his side was pierced by the slender blade. The Valyrian steel made whatever protection Jon's armor granted him amount to nothing as it easily pierced the armor as if it were cutting cheese.
Lucas had heard that Dark Sister was better suited for such attacks as it was narrower than Blackfyre, but he was still reeling from Aenys' quick movements. He was not alone in that as everyone watching was also fascinated by the precision and swiftness the prince was displaying.
"You damned bastard-!" Jon cried out as he raised his bastard sword above his head before swinging it back down, aiming right for Aenys' head. Despite his injury and the blood that was already leaking down his armor, he maintained his brute strength, either from anger or determination was anyone's guess.
Aenys had not yet moved from when he had landed the first blow on the bastard. Rather than step back and avoid Jon's swing altogether, he decided instead to meet it head on with Dark Sister, his eyes never leaving the bastard sword. He raised Dark Sister right at the perfect moment, causing it to clash against the regular steel of Jon's bastard sword.
There was a loud ring from the two metals clashing against the other. It was not too loud, and the ring mostly came from Jon's sword being nicked by the clash. It was not a big one, but it was noticeable nonetheless.
Lucas spotted this and frowned. 'How?'
Dark Sister was of Valyrian steel while Jon's bastard sword was of regular steel, but the two had not clashed enough for that to occur. Was it because of Aenys' superior strength? A combination of strength and sword? He certainly had the build for it, but it was still hard to believe.
Jon must have been thinking the same thing as he was momentarily paralyzed when he noticed the small indentation on his favored sword.
"Jon, watch out!" It was Manfryd who cried out a warning to their bastard brother.
Aenys was already on the move. He did not need to move far to once again close the distance between himself and Jon before he aimed a downward slash right at where the bastard was standing.
Jon panicked and hastily tried to defend himself, raising his sword again. With such a poor defense, he found his sword practically being swatted from his hands as he did not have a strong enough grip on the sword to withstand Aenys' strength.
The duel should have been over at that point, but before Ser Lister had a chance to intervene Dark Sister was already coming back up for a followup slash from below. The target was none other than Jon's right hand.
Another scream erupted in the courtyard as Jon fell back holding his wrist which now had no hand attached to it.
There were shrieks from some of the women watching who did not expect to see so much blood as Jon was mutilated right before their eyes. Blood began to drip onto the ground as Jon continued to scream in pain, unable to stand.
"Jon!" It was Manfryd who ran toward their downed brother while Lucas remained where he stood, frozen in place. The duel was not technically over yet, but that hardly mattered now.
As Manfryd knelt next to their screaming brother, Aenys Targaryen stood over them with Dark Sister in hand as he looked down at Jon with something like amusement. From Lucas' point of view, he seemed to relish in Jon's screams.
"Perhaps this will enough of a painful reminder to not lust over what is not yours, bastard."
This was to be Aenys' parting gift to the Lothston brothers before he returned to King's Landing.