Chapter 111: Mother
"Lord Hobert, do you truly believe House Hightower can survive this?" Samantha Tarly asked in return.
She had been Lord Ormund Hightower's second wife. Before marrying her, Ormund already had four children. His eldest son, Lyonel, and second son, Martyn, had already perished in battle. His third son, Garmund, was far away at Highgarden and was likely either captured, dead, or already branded a traitor. Among Alicent Hightower's kin, only the Dowager Queen herself remained in King's Landing. Old Lord Hobert's sons were likely all dead, and among the children of his brothers, only Hobert himself remained. Even the Hightowers serving within the Faith and the Citadel were probably now in grave danger.
"I will accept whatever punishment Queen Rhaenyra decrees," Hobert said quietly. "Beheading or taking the black—it matters little to me now. I only ask that you care for Bethany and the girls. You are Prince Dragonzel's good-sister. Surely he will grant some respect to your wishes."
Samantha watched Hobert Hightower leave the chamber with determined steps. Then she shook her head and turned to embrace her stepdaughter Bethany, who had just awakened.
"Mother, what happened? Where are Father and my brothers?"
"Nothing happened," Samantha whispered softly as she gently patted the little girl's back.
Above Oldtown, the quartered banner of Queen Rhaenyra was raised.
Lord Mathis Rowan gestured for the trembling Garmund Hightower to step forward.
Before the thirteen-year-old boy stood a middle-aged man whose legs had been severed. Even so, he remained upright with the help of an infantry spear. He too was a Hightower—the fifth son of old Lord Hobert and the captain responsible for defending the city gates.
"Boy, kill him, and you'll prove your sincerity," Lord Axell Florent declared while clapping his hands together. The Florent lord, with his long face, pointed chin, and large protruding ears, had brought nine hundred cavalry and eighteen hundred infantry to join the campaign after the Battle of the Rose Road.
Lady Jeyne Fossoway and Harlen Tyrell observed the scene with quiet interest.
Garmund Hightower was a shy and melancholy child. Lord Ormund had assigned him as cupbearer and squire to the late Lord Luthor Tyrell, effectively making him a spy as well. Yet the boy had never once leaked information about Luthor. After the Battle of the Rose Road, House Tyrell officially raised the Queen's quartered banner and declared for Rhaenyra. Terrified, Garmund had nearly drowned himself in a fountain, only surviving because Ser Harlen discovered him in time. After a night of torment and reflection, the boy ultimately chose to join the Tyrell host and march against his own family.
The wounded Hightower's eyes lit up when he saw Garmund.
"Kill me, you little fool! You bastard!" he roared. "Is your sword dull? Give me a clean death!"
Tears welled in Garmund's eyes.
Finally, he clenched his jaw, shut his eyes, and thrust his spear forward.
The point scraped uselessly off the man's breastplate before slamming into the cobblestones, nearly causing Garmund to lose his footing.
"Are you blind, you damned idiot?" the Hightower roared again. "Open your eyes! My neck is here! Aim for the neck!"
He pointed furiously at his own throat.
Garmund gritted his teeth, closed his eyes once more, raised the spear, and thrust again.
This time, he did not miss.
Blood erupted from the man's throat like a fountain as he closed his eyes in satisfaction.
Kinslayer.
That single word echoed within Garmund's heart.
"Garmund, you have proven your loyalty to Her Grace the Queen."
The voice came from above.
Jacaerys circled low overhead upon Vermax. Fearful that hidden Hightower loyalists might still possess crossbows, he either flew high above the city or remained amidst large crowds whenever he descended lower.
"You must trust in Her Grace's mercy."
At the Citadel—
Archmaester Marwyn pinched his own thigh hard beneath his robes. His mask concealed his expression perfectly.
One by one, the archmaesters of the Conclave arrived by boat upon Raven Isle. Vermithor rested atop the ancient fortress tower, his colossal body making it seem as though the structure might collapse beneath his weight. Even then, the dragon's tail still hung down into the sea below.
Dragonzel looked upon the assembled archmaesters, each wearing masks of different metals.
"Where are the Archmaesters of Ravens, Astronomy, and Healing?"
"Your Highness," answered the Archmaester of Astrology, whose bronze mask and bronze staff trembled slightly, "the Archmaesters of Ravens and Astronomy are calculating the coming of winter. Their calculations cannot be interrupted. We humbly apologize, Your Highness. However, we can relay your commands on their behalf. As for the Archmaester of Healing… there have been problems within his order. He is on his way."
"Good," Dragonzel replied coldly. "Then inform the remaining archmaesters to seal every book, collection, and experiment within the Citadel. Three days from now, ships will arrive to escort you to King's Landing. You failed to prevent House Hightower's treason and will answer to Queen Rhaenyra personally."
"Prince, that violates every tradition of the Citadel!" shouted both the Archmaester of History and the Archmaester of Governance simultaneously. "The Citadel remains politically neutral and never interferes in the affairs of the realm!"
Dragonzel did not even glance toward them.
"You may either board those ships in three days," he said calmly, "or depart with Vermithor today. My army will occupy the Citadel immediately."
Then he gently patted Vermithor.
The bronze dragon roared and launched himself back into the sky.
The archmaesters stared blankly after the departing dragon before collectively shuddering.
The Archmaester of Higher Mysteries, whose mask was forged of Valyrian steel, suddenly jumped up in alarm.
"The dragon research beneath the cellars cannot be discovered by the royal family!"
"Archmaester Rosen, even if it is discovered, what then?" the Archmaester of War Studies replied as he grabbed the frightened man's arm. "So long as we insist it was merely scholarly research, the Crown cannot punish us for it. But where is Archmaester Colwyn? Why has he not arrived yet?"
At last, another small boat hurried toward Raven Isle.
Archmaester Colwyn leapt ashore without even carrying his silver rod of office.
"Something terrible has happened!"
"What now?" several archmaesters demanded at once.
Marwyn quickly explained Dragonzel's demands, but before he could finish, Colwyn's horrified voice rang across Raven Isle.
"The samples are gone!"
"What?"
"The specimens infected with the Shivers and dragonpox—the ones stored in the ice vaults—are gone!" Colwyn cried out desperately. "Judging by the condition of the vault, they have been missing for at least three weeks!"
"Seven Hells…"
Above Oldtown, Vermithor and Vermax met in the sky while Silverwing continued circling the city.
A white banner had already been raised over the Hightower.
Samantha Tarly emerged barefoot from the tower alongside the remaining Hightower girls and Hobert Hightower himself.
Yet before determining House Hightower's fate, Dragonzel's greater concern remained Helaena and her children.
Vermithor landed before Dreamfyre. One glance from the Bronze Fury forced the blue she-dragon to retreat several steps in fear.
Dragonzel and Jacaerys entered the immense Starry Sept together.
No septon dared meet Dragonzel's gaze. Clad in Valyrian steel armor and carrying the Valyrian steel sword Silverblood, he walked alongside Jacaerys through the long hall until they reached Queen Helaena and the High Septon.
Dragonzel placed a seven-pointed star upon his chest in salute toward the High Septon, offering respect.
"Prince," the High Septon said quickly, clearly relieved that Dragonzel had chosen reverence instead of violence, "the Faith never supported the Usurper's claim. The septon who crowned the false king in King's Landing has already been excommunicated. Every Hightower within the Faith who betrayed the rightful queen has been executed by faithful warriors loyal to Her Grace. Their bodies lie behind—"
"No need, Your High Holiness," Dragonzel interrupted calmly. He could already sense the dense concentration of corpses beyond the chamber—indeed, all Hightowers. "I trust in the Faith's sincerity. But the Faith must also demonstrate that sincerity to Queen Rhaenyra in King's Landing."
His deep violet eyes caused the High Septon's body to stiffen.
"Please command us, Prince."
"I require both the High Septon and the Most Devout to travel to King's Landing," Jacaerys declared politely after kissing the High Septon's ring. Then his tone turned icy. "My mother's coronation still requires the blessing of the Faith. She believes the Seven's favor is an indispensable part of a true monarch's rule. And the people of King's Landing long to behold Your High Holiness as well."
The High Septon understood immediately.
The Starry Sept itself might soon become history.
"I understand, Your Highness. The Faith will fully support Her Grace's reign."
While Jacaerys negotiated with the High Septon, Dragonzel walked toward Helaena.
"Dragonzel," Helaena whispered as she opened her dull, lifeless eyes, "I saw Aegon die in fire. I saw Mother fall from the Hightower. I saw emptiness in my children's eyes. Dragonzel… will you kill my children?"
"Their only crime was being born into the wrong family at the wrong time," Dragonzel sighed as he sat beside her. "Children are innocent. So long as they swear sacred vows, abandon the Targaryen name, and remain under lifelong supervision by either myself or the Crown, they may live. Maelor and Jaehaerys may become Kingsguard, royal counselors, or learned maesters. Jaehaera can become a septa. The realm will tolerate their survival. So will I."
"I understand." Helaena nodded faintly. "Thank you."
She did not ask about herself. Instead, she asked:
"And what of House Hightower?"
"Their crime is treason, my little niece," Dragonzel answered. "Only Garmund may live because of his actions today. All Hightower lands will be confiscated, including Oldtown and the Hightower itself. Ser Hobert's fate will be determined at trial—either execution or the Wall. The family must also repay all wealth stolen from the Crown and royal treasury."
"The girls will either join the Silent Sisters or become septas. As for Garmund, I shall grant him lands upon Grey Gallows to reward his choice, though I will decide his future marriage myself. I only hope House Hightower's wealth can pay its debts. Otherwise, poor Garmund and all his descendants will spend their lives repaying them."
Dragonzel paused briefly.
"Though this arrangement was decided together with Jacaerys, the final judgment still belongs to Queen Rhaenyra."
"Then on behalf of my mother's family, I thank you for your mercy."
Helaena understood clearly that Dragonzel alone possessed enough influence to protect her children now.
"Aren't you curious about your own fate?" Dragonzel asked softly.
He could already sense the worsening magical corruption surrounding her. Years of dragon dreams, combined with the backlash of ancient magic and the powers of the Children of the Forest, had damaged her life force.
"I will not live long, Dragonzel. You already told me that."
Helaena smiled gently while watching her innocent children continue playing nearby.
"I will buy their lives with my own death."
"It doesn't have to be this way."
"This is the final thing a mother can do for her children."
Though she continued smiling, Dragonzel could clearly see the tears shimmering within her eyes.
"I only hope," Helaena whispered softly, "that when they grow older… they forget who their parents were."
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