Make the Cleganes the Lord Paramounts of the Westerlands! That would be so hilarious. Also, you're lucky that the Tyrells are on your side. The Reach is OP as SHIT but not without good reason.
The Line of Rhaegar - AGoT AAR
- Thread starter cyrileom
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People the readers will likely care none about. Perhaps that is the plan! 
Jokes aside, nicely handled! Hopefully the Tyrells will remain leal vassals of the crown.
Jokes aside, nicely handled! Hopefully the Tyrells will remain leal vassals of the crown.
Chapter X: The War of the Three Kings
A month after the proclamation, once my host of twenty thousand had been assembled, I struck out for Storm's End, knowing what Stannis' answer would be. I left Willas Tyrell in charge and in defense of the capital, as I knew Tywin Lannister would try again. Our journey to Storm's End was blocked by a single army, half our size. The battle was over before the sun set, and Storm's End was reached a few weeks later. There was no need to treat with Stannis. We both knew how this dance went. Once more, Storm's End was besieged, and the camp life I had lived a scant fifteen years ago came back as if it was yesterday. The Dornish marched up their Marches, still months away from assistance. Tywin Lannister, with a new host, bit at the edges of the Crownlands, too fearful to approach. The northern lords stayed out of this war, taking no side.
The siege itself took eight long months. Ships were brought from King's Landing to blockade Shipbreaker Bay, and catapults fired into Storm's End day and night. No real purchase was sought, merely the unnerving of the defending garrison. Near the end of the eighth month, the gates finally swung open, and Stannis walked out once again, twice defeated in his own castle. We bound him in chains and escorted him back to King's Landing. Stewardship of the Stormlands was stripped from the House Baratheon and given to the House Tarth, led by the Evenstar himself.
In King's Landing, Stannis waited not even a day before demanding a trial by combat. He claimed that I no longer had the right to imprison him after I had stripped him of his rank. I did not care to start a long and lengthy trial, and knew that Stannis should no chance either way. And so, I accepted his offer, and informed him that he would be fighting Ser Jaime Lannister on the morrow. He took the news of his inevitable death with grace.
________________________________________________
Stannis was prepared first. He strode into the arena armored in unadorned plate mail and bearing generic arms. He made no sound and gave no response to the jeers of the crowd, merely taking his place on the Tourney Grounds of King's Landing. Ser Jaime arrived a few moments later, the complete opposite of Stannis. After his betrayal, I had his old armor melted down, re-forged, and re-dyed. He strode out onto the field garbed in armor of black and red, bearing a shield emblazoned with the sigil of House Targaryen in his left hand, a blade of rippling steel with a black hilt embedded with a red gem in his right. For the purpose of this fight, I had loaned Jaime Blackfyre, the better to make this fight certain. Clearly enjoying the adulation of the crowd, Jaime took his position across from Stannis, and they both began circling each other.
Then, the fight ended. Jaime swept forward, thrusting Blackfyre forward at Stannis, who seemed to be caught unprepared. But, alas, he was not. Stannis stepped to the side of Jaime and struck his sword hand with his unadorned shield. Jaime yelped in pain and almost dropped Blackfyre, but it didn't matter. Stannis sword caught him then, spitting Jaime in one blow and finishing him. The Crimsonknight was dead, having failed to inflict even a minor wound on his opponent.
I pried my lips loose. "In the sight of gods and men, Lord Stannis Baratheon is found innocent, and shall be set free immediately. Go forth, Lord Stannis, and leave King's Landing."
_________________________________________________
Jaime's body was prepared and sent to Casterly Rock the next day. I commanded his escort to stop by Barrowbridge, which was where Tywin was camped. After another month, the army I had left behind in Storm's End arrived, and together with the Tyrell host, we marched on Tywin Lannister. We outnumbered his small host nearly three-to-one, and he could not escape us in time. Tywin's army was nearly encircled, and over eighteen thousand men died that day, most of them bearing Lannister colors. Tywin had managed to flee the battle with a host of five and a half thousand men, but he did not remain free for long. He tried to flee back towards Casterly Rock, but he was caught outside Payne Hall in a week, and his remaining force was crushed. Tywin himself was taken prisoner.
__________________________________________________
"So, King Rhaegar, you've won." Even sitting chained in a cage, Tywin managed to carry himself proudly, to inject some contempt into his words. "I must thank you for delivering Jaime, though, of course, alive would have been preferable. Part of me hopes that you would have expelled him after his betrayal, but alas. Cersei did not survive the news. A raven flew in two days ago, with word that my daughter flung herself from the battlements of Casterly Rock. It appears that all my children are dead, with my only heirs being Tullys." Tywin laughed a mirthless laugh then. "Why did you pardon Jaime, Your Grace? Will you at least tell me that?" I looked into his eyes with my own, with no emotions in either set. "To use against you. To serve as a cruel joke, a final jape, to further twist the knife into your traitorous belly before you lost everything." His eyes darkened with anger then. "Why did you do it, Tywin? Why join such an obviously lost cause?" His voice was quiet, cold. "Obviously lost? It seems you are more of a fool than I imagined. Tell me, Rhaegar, how long could you have held out in King's Landing had not your son-in-law saved you. Had I been at King's Landing a week earlier, you would likely be at the Wall right now." He was quiet for a time. "Did you know you were supposed to marry Cersei, originally?" I nodded. "Do you know how frustrating it was, having to settle for the Blackfish as a son-in-law? How infuriating it was, to watch you take whore after whore into your bed? Your cause was lost. If only the High Septon had been a tad smarter about sealing off the docks first thing, there would have been nothing you could have done. Nothing. And your son would have succeeded, a young, easily manipulated boy that could easily be requested to release Jaime. So do whatever you need to do, Rhaegar, and be done with it. My legacy has already crumbled, there is nothing else you can do to it." "Is that right?" My voice was cold, emotionless. "I think you're wrong on that account. I think there is something more I can do. I can destroy your name." His head whipped up. "As you should expect, stewardship of the Westerlands will no longer be held by the Lannisters, or, as it now seems, the Tullys. It will instead fall to Lady Perra Lefford of the Golden Tooth." His eyes blazed with anger. "She's a young fool you idiot boy-" "Secondly," I spoke, cutting him off, "it shall be you who goes to the wall, Tywin Lannister. You will live out your remaining days at the Wall, never again to see your crumbling and failed family." I turned to leave, but decided to drive the knife further home. "You shouldn't have let Cersei kill Tyrion. Him, I would have left in charge." And with that, I walked away, never to see Tywin Lannister again.
___________________________________________________
Minor side note: I don't actually think anyone killed Tyrion. It says he died of suspicious circumstances, but poking around in the save has given me these two lines of code
death_reason=1
killer=0
For this reason I am forced to assume that Tyrion was, in fact, not murdered, but I felt that this made more dramatic sense. Also, I am coming up to the end of my material, so the next part will probably be a world update to cover while I go further.
A month after the proclamation, once my host of twenty thousand had been assembled, I struck out for Storm's End, knowing what Stannis' answer would be. I left Willas Tyrell in charge and in defense of the capital, as I knew Tywin Lannister would try again. Our journey to Storm's End was blocked by a single army, half our size. The battle was over before the sun set, and Storm's End was reached a few weeks later. There was no need to treat with Stannis. We both knew how this dance went. Once more, Storm's End was besieged, and the camp life I had lived a scant fifteen years ago came back as if it was yesterday. The Dornish marched up their Marches, still months away from assistance. Tywin Lannister, with a new host, bit at the edges of the Crownlands, too fearful to approach. The northern lords stayed out of this war, taking no side.
The siege itself took eight long months. Ships were brought from King's Landing to blockade Shipbreaker Bay, and catapults fired into Storm's End day and night. No real purchase was sought, merely the unnerving of the defending garrison. Near the end of the eighth month, the gates finally swung open, and Stannis walked out once again, twice defeated in his own castle. We bound him in chains and escorted him back to King's Landing. Stewardship of the Stormlands was stripped from the House Baratheon and given to the House Tarth, led by the Evenstar himself.
In King's Landing, Stannis waited not even a day before demanding a trial by combat. He claimed that I no longer had the right to imprison him after I had stripped him of his rank. I did not care to start a long and lengthy trial, and knew that Stannis should no chance either way. And so, I accepted his offer, and informed him that he would be fighting Ser Jaime Lannister on the morrow. He took the news of his inevitable death with grace.
________________________________________________
Stannis was prepared first. He strode into the arena armored in unadorned plate mail and bearing generic arms. He made no sound and gave no response to the jeers of the crowd, merely taking his place on the Tourney Grounds of King's Landing. Ser Jaime arrived a few moments later, the complete opposite of Stannis. After his betrayal, I had his old armor melted down, re-forged, and re-dyed. He strode out onto the field garbed in armor of black and red, bearing a shield emblazoned with the sigil of House Targaryen in his left hand, a blade of rippling steel with a black hilt embedded with a red gem in his right. For the purpose of this fight, I had loaned Jaime Blackfyre, the better to make this fight certain. Clearly enjoying the adulation of the crowd, Jaime took his position across from Stannis, and they both began circling each other.
Then, the fight ended. Jaime swept forward, thrusting Blackfyre forward at Stannis, who seemed to be caught unprepared. But, alas, he was not. Stannis stepped to the side of Jaime and struck his sword hand with his unadorned shield. Jaime yelped in pain and almost dropped Blackfyre, but it didn't matter. Stannis sword caught him then, spitting Jaime in one blow and finishing him. The Crimsonknight was dead, having failed to inflict even a minor wound on his opponent.
I pried my lips loose. "In the sight of gods and men, Lord Stannis Baratheon is found innocent, and shall be set free immediately. Go forth, Lord Stannis, and leave King's Landing."
_________________________________________________
Jaime's body was prepared and sent to Casterly Rock the next day. I commanded his escort to stop by Barrowbridge, which was where Tywin was camped. After another month, the army I had left behind in Storm's End arrived, and together with the Tyrell host, we marched on Tywin Lannister. We outnumbered his small host nearly three-to-one, and he could not escape us in time. Tywin's army was nearly encircled, and over eighteen thousand men died that day, most of them bearing Lannister colors. Tywin had managed to flee the battle with a host of five and a half thousand men, but he did not remain free for long. He tried to flee back towards Casterly Rock, but he was caught outside Payne Hall in a week, and his remaining force was crushed. Tywin himself was taken prisoner.
__________________________________________________
"So, King Rhaegar, you've won." Even sitting chained in a cage, Tywin managed to carry himself proudly, to inject some contempt into his words. "I must thank you for delivering Jaime, though, of course, alive would have been preferable. Part of me hopes that you would have expelled him after his betrayal, but alas. Cersei did not survive the news. A raven flew in two days ago, with word that my daughter flung herself from the battlements of Casterly Rock. It appears that all my children are dead, with my only heirs being Tullys." Tywin laughed a mirthless laugh then. "Why did you pardon Jaime, Your Grace? Will you at least tell me that?" I looked into his eyes with my own, with no emotions in either set. "To use against you. To serve as a cruel joke, a final jape, to further twist the knife into your traitorous belly before you lost everything." His eyes darkened with anger then. "Why did you do it, Tywin? Why join such an obviously lost cause?" His voice was quiet, cold. "Obviously lost? It seems you are more of a fool than I imagined. Tell me, Rhaegar, how long could you have held out in King's Landing had not your son-in-law saved you. Had I been at King's Landing a week earlier, you would likely be at the Wall right now." He was quiet for a time. "Did you know you were supposed to marry Cersei, originally?" I nodded. "Do you know how frustrating it was, having to settle for the Blackfish as a son-in-law? How infuriating it was, to watch you take whore after whore into your bed? Your cause was lost. If only the High Septon had been a tad smarter about sealing off the docks first thing, there would have been nothing you could have done. Nothing. And your son would have succeeded, a young, easily manipulated boy that could easily be requested to release Jaime. So do whatever you need to do, Rhaegar, and be done with it. My legacy has already crumbled, there is nothing else you can do to it." "Is that right?" My voice was cold, emotionless. "I think you're wrong on that account. I think there is something more I can do. I can destroy your name." His head whipped up. "As you should expect, stewardship of the Westerlands will no longer be held by the Lannisters, or, as it now seems, the Tullys. It will instead fall to Lady Perra Lefford of the Golden Tooth." His eyes blazed with anger. "She's a young fool you idiot boy-" "Secondly," I spoke, cutting him off, "it shall be you who goes to the wall, Tywin Lannister. You will live out your remaining days at the Wall, never again to see your crumbling and failed family." I turned to leave, but decided to drive the knife further home. "You shouldn't have let Cersei kill Tyrion. Him, I would have left in charge." And with that, I walked away, never to see Tywin Lannister again.
___________________________________________________
Minor side note: I don't actually think anyone killed Tyrion. It says he died of suspicious circumstances, but poking around in the save has given me these two lines of code
death_reason=1
killer=0
For this reason I am forced to assume that Tyrion was, in fact, not murdered, but I felt that this made more dramatic sense. Also, I am coming up to the end of my material, so the next part will probably be a world update to cover while I go further.
- 1
Wow, Stannis managing to kill Jaime. Definitely never would have expected that. Curious, by the way, why Leffords for the Westerlands?
IMO the duel engine needs to be changed, the way it calculates the winner is not logical. It basically makes it so even a character with horrible stats has a chance against one with incredible stats, and it leads to too many upsets. I know that all characters should have some small chance, but the difference now is not as much as it should be. I once had a king with formidable fighting, duelist, strong, and quick and he lost against some shit character without any skills at all.
Chapter XI: Well... shit
There really is no better way to describe what comes next. This part will be, chronologically, very short, and probably a two-parter. I'll cover a minor event first, which is that Lewyn Martell, my uncle-in-law on the Kingsguard, died and was replaced by a hedge knight called Ser Matthis of Dunsbridge. Oh, and somehow Loras Tyrell ended up on the Wall. That was quite amusing to me.
Now, onto the main course.
____________________________________________________
The hour was late when it happened. I was in my study, working through the mountain of papers I had let pile up over the last week. A terrible decision, in retrospect, though admittedly one made from the beds of my women. I had spent the last few hours looking over the finances, as Arianne had relinquished the position of Master-of-Coin and forced me to find another. Thankfully, everything was in order, and I was able to put the massive tome away without having to dip my quill. A letter from Doran was the next to come up, bearing his seal as Master-of-Whisperers. This might have served to dredge up earlier. Grimacing, I cut open the letter and read it. It seems that the would-be Usurper's bastard daughter, Mya Stone, claimed the Iron Throne for herself, and was sailing to Maidenpool with a host of thirty thousand men. Where she had found the men or ships for that I had no idea, but clearly she had. I put the letter away and sighed. More men consigned to the slaughter by fools.
I stretched and took a break, and noticed that the candle I had lit was significantly smaller than I remember it being. I must have spent more time here than I thought. Scowling, I stood up to move the candle away from the papers. When I sat back down, I noticed a shadow that had not moved. I startled a little, and then stared right at it.
A low chuckle emanated from the corner. "If a man had wanted to kill you, a man would find it very easy." He, for it was a he, stepped into the light. He was a hooded man, and so I could not make out much, but it was not a far stretch to assume he was a Braavosi. "Well, I hope you're not. I told the Iron Bank I will have their money soon." I gestured at Doran's letter. "Likely once I take whatever financial reserves belong to this young fool." The hooded man shook his head. "I am not here from the Iron Bank. They find it incredibly inefficient to hire one such as I, instead preferring to deal in more... indirect ways." He stepped forward. "No, I am here on business. I have an offer for you, if you will hear it out." I sat back in my chair. "Words are wind, and wind is cheap. Make the offer." The man chuckled once more. "Words are wind, and names are words, but names have power. It's a simple trade I offer. A name for a name. You offer one, and I offer another." I sighed. "You sure do enjoy stringing this along, but I understand what you offer. What name would you demand?" He was silent for a moment. After a moment of inspection, the man seemed to have an air of reluctance about him. Finally, he spoke.
"The name I ask for is Aegon Targaryen, Prince of the Seven Kingdoms, Heir to the Iron Throne. And your firstborn son."
I stiffened, then hissed. "You presume much, assassin." The man nodded. "I do, but it is no cheap thing, to take a life. The payment must be valuable." The assassin stepped back. "I will give you a day to decide. Should you agree, you need only say a name, and I will see it done." The Faceless Man shrank back into the shadows. "You can be sure that I will hear it, wherever you are." The man disappeared. "I am sorry, for the choice I force on you."
And then he was gone, and I was alone. I sat there, immobile, for a long time. Then I stood up, and went to find Lyanna.
______________________________________________
So yes, I'm quite speechless. On the one hand, Aegon's successor would be Halys Targaryen, bastard son of Lyanna, with the quick trait and 15 diplomacy at age 12. On the other hand, I feel this would be massively out of character, and if Rhaegar accepted, he would definitely be haunted for the rest of his life. Then again, if he kills Aegon, the sleeping with Margaery thing no longer constitutes cuckolding his son, so...
Life is tough. Now, if my third son Jon was born second son, the choice would be much easier, as he is definitely Prince that Was Promised material, as I will eventually show.
There really is no better way to describe what comes next. This part will be, chronologically, very short, and probably a two-parter. I'll cover a minor event first, which is that Lewyn Martell, my uncle-in-law on the Kingsguard, died and was replaced by a hedge knight called Ser Matthis of Dunsbridge. Oh, and somehow Loras Tyrell ended up on the Wall. That was quite amusing to me.
Now, onto the main course.
____________________________________________________
The hour was late when it happened. I was in my study, working through the mountain of papers I had let pile up over the last week. A terrible decision, in retrospect, though admittedly one made from the beds of my women. I had spent the last few hours looking over the finances, as Arianne had relinquished the position of Master-of-Coin and forced me to find another. Thankfully, everything was in order, and I was able to put the massive tome away without having to dip my quill. A letter from Doran was the next to come up, bearing his seal as Master-of-Whisperers. This might have served to dredge up earlier. Grimacing, I cut open the letter and read it. It seems that the would-be Usurper's bastard daughter, Mya Stone, claimed the Iron Throne for herself, and was sailing to Maidenpool with a host of thirty thousand men. Where she had found the men or ships for that I had no idea, but clearly she had. I put the letter away and sighed. More men consigned to the slaughter by fools.
I stretched and took a break, and noticed that the candle I had lit was significantly smaller than I remember it being. I must have spent more time here than I thought. Scowling, I stood up to move the candle away from the papers. When I sat back down, I noticed a shadow that had not moved. I startled a little, and then stared right at it.
A low chuckle emanated from the corner. "If a man had wanted to kill you, a man would find it very easy." He, for it was a he, stepped into the light. He was a hooded man, and so I could not make out much, but it was not a far stretch to assume he was a Braavosi. "Well, I hope you're not. I told the Iron Bank I will have their money soon." I gestured at Doran's letter. "Likely once I take whatever financial reserves belong to this young fool." The hooded man shook his head. "I am not here from the Iron Bank. They find it incredibly inefficient to hire one such as I, instead preferring to deal in more... indirect ways." He stepped forward. "No, I am here on business. I have an offer for you, if you will hear it out." I sat back in my chair. "Words are wind, and wind is cheap. Make the offer." The man chuckled once more. "Words are wind, and names are words, but names have power. It's a simple trade I offer. A name for a name. You offer one, and I offer another." I sighed. "You sure do enjoy stringing this along, but I understand what you offer. What name would you demand?" He was silent for a moment. After a moment of inspection, the man seemed to have an air of reluctance about him. Finally, he spoke.
"The name I ask for is Aegon Targaryen, Prince of the Seven Kingdoms, Heir to the Iron Throne. And your firstborn son."
I stiffened, then hissed. "You presume much, assassin." The man nodded. "I do, but it is no cheap thing, to take a life. The payment must be valuable." The assassin stepped back. "I will give you a day to decide. Should you agree, you need only say a name, and I will see it done." The Faceless Man shrank back into the shadows. "You can be sure that I will hear it, wherever you are." The man disappeared. "I am sorry, for the choice I force on you."
And then he was gone, and I was alone. I sat there, immobile, for a long time. Then I stood up, and went to find Lyanna.
So yes, I'm quite speechless. On the one hand, Aegon's successor would be Halys Targaryen, bastard son of Lyanna, with the quick trait and 15 diplomacy at age 12. On the other hand, I feel this would be massively out of character, and if Rhaegar accepted, he would definitely be haunted for the rest of his life. Then again, if he kills Aegon, the sleeping with Margaery thing no longer constitutes cuckolding his son, so...
Life is tough. Now, if my third son Jon was born second son, the choice would be much easier, as he is definitely Prince that Was Promised material, as I will eventually show.
- 1
Chapter XII: A Hard Choice, a Harder Answer
I climbed out of Lyanna's bed, and dressed silently. I had considered telling her what had happened yesterday and asking her opinion, but I decided against it. It would not be fair to her, and moreover, this was my choice. And my choice alone.
As I stepped out of the room and quietly closed the door, something bowled into my legs and slammed me into the door. I cursed and heard Lyanna get up. When I turned around, I noticed a small Dornish girl hugging my legs. Rhaena, my secret daughter by Arianne. When she had been born five years ago, the midwife had complimented Viserys on his fertility. Arianne had smiled, stolen a glance at me, and said that Rhaena's father was indeed quite fertile. We shared a laugh over that six months later, once more in Viserys's own bed as he, again, lay blackout drunk on the ground. He'd gotten it into his head that getting black out drunk was the best way to sleep with Arianne. He was not entirely wrong, only mistaking who would do the bedding. Lyanna came out of the door wearing a nightgown and was about to say something before she noticed Rhaena. Then, she smiled. "Hello little one. Where's your mother?"
Arianne turned the corner then, and, noticing our little scene, scowled at her daughter and told her to come over. Rhaena giggled and fled. Arianne sighed. "I hope she didn't interrupt anything." Her words were accompanied with a wink. Lyanna laughed softly. "No, she didn't. We've been done for a few hours." Arianne smiled knowingly and continued after her daughter.
I was somber throughout the whole affair. The Red Keep was happy, full of love and laughter. Was it really my right to take that away, to kill my child and all this merriment with him? I didn't know. I told my servants to deliver my food to my study, and went to think. Alone.
Aegon... oh Aegon. He was good at war, a very capable, though admittedly untested, military commander. And that was it. He had no great, or even good, skill with words or administration, and had not the heart or mind for intrigue. Halys though... even though he was eight years Aegon's junior, Halys was the opposite of Aegon. Halys was no equal to Aegon in a fight, but even at the age of twelve Halys had a gift for words few men possessed, a good mind for intrigue and administration, and an insatiable lust for learning. Surely, surely, Halys is a better choice. I toiled in despair for some time, before leaving to aimlessly wander the Red Keep.
Aegon is infertile. A malignant voice whispered. He's been bedding his bride for years, and no child has been produced. I tried to banish it, but it would never leave for long. Halys is the better choice. The dragon must have three heads, I replied angrily. The voice was silent for a time. The dragon must have three heads, but Aegon needs not be one. I sat down, putting my face in my hands.
"If I am to sell my soul, I would know its price." The words came out a whisper, barely audible, even to me. I didn't know what to do, and decided to go and raid the wine cellar.
The High Septon. Eddard Stark. Denys Arryn. Stannis Baratheon. Elia Martell. I recoiled at that last one. The list had stayed the same for the first four drinks. The fact it had changed worried me. I angrily threw the bottle of Dornish red at the wall, and watched it spill. The High Septon. Eddard Stark. Denys Arryn. Stannis Baratheon. The High Septon would be a waste of a name. Kill one and another would take his place, equally as sanctimonious and unhelpful. My coronation arrived at the point of a sword - I'm certain the High Septon would take it back if he could. Besides, the High Septon is required to give up his name on appointment. No name, no death. I laughed at that irony and almost reached for another bottle. Eddard Stark. Denys Arryn. Stannis Baratheon. Eddard was a bad choice. The brother of my lover, and a good man besides. Despite his hatred for me, he had never joined any rebellion against me but one, and he could not be faulted for the one. To repay that loyalty with betrayal would be unseemly. The irony of balking at killing someone who hates me while planning to kill my own son did cause me to reach for another bottle. Denys Arryn. Stannis Baratheon. Denys, while a fool, had learned from his mistake, and had not joined Tywin and Stannis in their rebellion. Besides, if he showed himself a fool again, he would feel the bite of Ser Ilyn's greatsword. Denys was not worth my son. I drank almost half the bottle, and sputtered and choked as it caught on the way down. Stannis Baratheon. I paused, trying to find some reason to remove him, some reason to spare my son. Stannis Baratheon. I finished the bottle, feeling the headache coming on. Stannis Baratheon. He betrayed me twice. He was a rallying point for dissatisfied rebels. He had killed my Lord Commander. Stannis Baratheon. I closed my eyes and put my head against the wall. May the Seven forgive me. "Stannis Baratheon." I spoke aloud.
Aegon died the next morning. He tripped and fell off the walls of the Red Keep, breaking his neck on impact. Everyone treated it as a great tragedy, an unfortunate accident. Only I knew the truth. That night, the assassin spoke to me again. Only five short words. "A name for a name."
May the Seven forgive me.
I climbed out of Lyanna's bed, and dressed silently. I had considered telling her what had happened yesterday and asking her opinion, but I decided against it. It would not be fair to her, and moreover, this was my choice. And my choice alone.
As I stepped out of the room and quietly closed the door, something bowled into my legs and slammed me into the door. I cursed and heard Lyanna get up. When I turned around, I noticed a small Dornish girl hugging my legs. Rhaena, my secret daughter by Arianne. When she had been born five years ago, the midwife had complimented Viserys on his fertility. Arianne had smiled, stolen a glance at me, and said that Rhaena's father was indeed quite fertile. We shared a laugh over that six months later, once more in Viserys's own bed as he, again, lay blackout drunk on the ground. He'd gotten it into his head that getting black out drunk was the best way to sleep with Arianne. He was not entirely wrong, only mistaking who would do the bedding. Lyanna came out of the door wearing a nightgown and was about to say something before she noticed Rhaena. Then, she smiled. "Hello little one. Where's your mother?"
Arianne turned the corner then, and, noticing our little scene, scowled at her daughter and told her to come over. Rhaena giggled and fled. Arianne sighed. "I hope she didn't interrupt anything." Her words were accompanied with a wink. Lyanna laughed softly. "No, she didn't. We've been done for a few hours." Arianne smiled knowingly and continued after her daughter.
I was somber throughout the whole affair. The Red Keep was happy, full of love and laughter. Was it really my right to take that away, to kill my child and all this merriment with him? I didn't know. I told my servants to deliver my food to my study, and went to think. Alone.
Aegon... oh Aegon. He was good at war, a very capable, though admittedly untested, military commander. And that was it. He had no great, or even good, skill with words or administration, and had not the heart or mind for intrigue. Halys though... even though he was eight years Aegon's junior, Halys was the opposite of Aegon. Halys was no equal to Aegon in a fight, but even at the age of twelve Halys had a gift for words few men possessed, a good mind for intrigue and administration, and an insatiable lust for learning. Surely, surely, Halys is a better choice. I toiled in despair for some time, before leaving to aimlessly wander the Red Keep.
Aegon is infertile. A malignant voice whispered. He's been bedding his bride for years, and no child has been produced. I tried to banish it, but it would never leave for long. Halys is the better choice. The dragon must have three heads, I replied angrily. The voice was silent for a time. The dragon must have three heads, but Aegon needs not be one. I sat down, putting my face in my hands.
"If I am to sell my soul, I would know its price." The words came out a whisper, barely audible, even to me. I didn't know what to do, and decided to go and raid the wine cellar.
The High Septon. Eddard Stark. Denys Arryn. Stannis Baratheon. Elia Martell. I recoiled at that last one. The list had stayed the same for the first four drinks. The fact it had changed worried me. I angrily threw the bottle of Dornish red at the wall, and watched it spill. The High Septon. Eddard Stark. Denys Arryn. Stannis Baratheon. The High Septon would be a waste of a name. Kill one and another would take his place, equally as sanctimonious and unhelpful. My coronation arrived at the point of a sword - I'm certain the High Septon would take it back if he could. Besides, the High Septon is required to give up his name on appointment. No name, no death. I laughed at that irony and almost reached for another bottle. Eddard Stark. Denys Arryn. Stannis Baratheon. Eddard was a bad choice. The brother of my lover, and a good man besides. Despite his hatred for me, he had never joined any rebellion against me but one, and he could not be faulted for the one. To repay that loyalty with betrayal would be unseemly. The irony of balking at killing someone who hates me while planning to kill my own son did cause me to reach for another bottle. Denys Arryn. Stannis Baratheon. Denys, while a fool, had learned from his mistake, and had not joined Tywin and Stannis in their rebellion. Besides, if he showed himself a fool again, he would feel the bite of Ser Ilyn's greatsword. Denys was not worth my son. I drank almost half the bottle, and sputtered and choked as it caught on the way down. Stannis Baratheon. I paused, trying to find some reason to remove him, some reason to spare my son. Stannis Baratheon. I finished the bottle, feeling the headache coming on. Stannis Baratheon. He betrayed me twice. He was a rallying point for dissatisfied rebels. He had killed my Lord Commander. Stannis Baratheon. I closed my eyes and put my head against the wall. May the Seven forgive me. "Stannis Baratheon." I spoke aloud.
Aegon died the next morning. He tripped and fell off the walls of the Red Keep, breaking his neck on impact. Everyone treated it as a great tragedy, an unfortunate accident. Only I knew the truth. That night, the assassin spoke to me again. Only five short words. "A name for a name."
May the Seven forgive me.
- 1
I'm starting to think that Robert Baratheon was right about Rhaegar all along, but nobody believed him ...
Yeah, kinda. I'm toying with the idea of giving Rhaegar the depressed trait. I find it wierd how Rhaegar didn't end up with the trait, especially with the fact that Aegon and Rhaegar were Friends. You'd think killing your heir, a son you are incredibly close with, would have some kind of repercussion, but seemingly not.
It is 8301 AL, 19 years into the game, at the time of the last post.
Renly is still alive and kicking, so Renly inherits Storm's End and Shipbreaker Bay. The Stormlands passed to Selwyn Tarth after Stannis sided with the High Septon.
Chapter XIII: "I've always hated the bells."
The bells - all the bells - tolled in King's Landing that day. For the first time in over a decade, a procession came from the Red Keep to the Great Sept for peaceful reasons. It seemed as if the entire city was in mourning. An unbroken chain of people, rich and poor alike, bridged the two hills to see their prince to his tomb. The procession was slow. We had set out at midday, and only arrived at the Great Sept when the sun was already well into its descent. Margaery was at the front of the procession, clad in all black, a widow beautiful even in her grief. My wife and I followed her, also clad in black. The entire procession was clad in black, save the Kingsguard that formed a guard around the royal family. I laughed a little at how rich the cloth merchants had become after Aegon's death. At least it benefited someone.
Given the Crown's new grip on the Faith, I had decided that a gesture of reconciliation was in order. That was why the long procession marched towards the Sept of Baelor, instead of holding the ceremony within the Red Keep itself. The new High Septon, a somewhat young and rotund individual, greeted us wordlessly on the steps of his sept and led the procession inside.
I remember little of the ceremony. I know I stood vigil over my son that night. He looked so peaceful in death, wrapped in his shroud embroidered with the Targaryen dragon and the Martell sun and spear. I hoped that his death was fast and painful. I prayed that the Faceless Man had at least granted him that mercy. The hours bled together, and days seemed to pass in the blink of an eye to me then. Later, Arthur Dayne told me that I had spent close to a week inside there, standing vigil. I will have to take his word for it, as that time blurs together in my memory.
One night stood out, however, though I know not which one. Much of my family visited me in that stretch of time, but I cannot recall the order. My wife, my lover, my brother, my now-heir, my sister-in-law... and my widowed daughter-in-law. She joined me in a night's vigil. I don't know who or how it started, but I know how it ended: with myself inside her, not ten feet away from the boy whom we'd shared.
Afterwards, we silently agreed to never discuss the event again, which became easier when it became apparent that our lonely tryst had produced no shameful fruit.
The next few months were subdued, and I turned to many things to try and drown out my sadness. I turned to drink, but quickly disdained it. It would have been an insult to Aegon, to kill him and then to drown myself in drink. I frequented brothels for a week, but, again, found no fervor there. I turned to books, but even there I lost interest. I slowly withdrew from the world, and only emerged on a few occasions.
These occasions were all matrimonial in nature. The informal betrothal between Halys Targaryen, my new heir, and the sister closest to him in age, Daeryssa, was broken. The former was betrothed to the Barren Widow, as some cruel smallfolk came to call Margaery, and the latter was married to Edmure Tully to bind the Riverlands to the Crown more tightly. Disarming the seemingly ancient coalition against me was still a great concern, as in its prime it could have boasted of mustering a hundred thousand men. To bind the Westerlands to the Crown, a bastard prince's hand was offered to the newly ascended Lady Paramount of the Westerlands. Galbart was my youngest child, born of Lyanna. The Red Keep was joyous then, as everyone tried to return to their old lives. I couldn't, though, not after what I had done. I did not even see my daughter off to her wedding, instead wasting away in my quarters.
I was happy when Mya Stone finally landed in Maidenpool. It gave me something to do, a reason to live. I called the banners and raised my hosts.
While my army was still mustering in King's Landing, the new High Septon acted like the biggest incompetent fool the world had ever seen. He sided with Mya Stone against me. The ravens he sent out to the various lords were shot down before they ever left the city, and his head was pitted on a spike in the Red Keep before the hour was up.
When a host of thirty-three thousand men was mustered, I set out. I would need no more men to crush my distant cousin. And if, by some stroke of fate, she managed to break my army, dozens more would come to destroy her.
________________________________________________________________
So yes, Margaery did join my harem, if only for a brief moment. I felt very awkward doing it however, all things considered, and frankly I still wanted a double alliance with the Reach. That, and some sweet sweet Quick heirs.
The bells - all the bells - tolled in King's Landing that day. For the first time in over a decade, a procession came from the Red Keep to the Great Sept for peaceful reasons. It seemed as if the entire city was in mourning. An unbroken chain of people, rich and poor alike, bridged the two hills to see their prince to his tomb. The procession was slow. We had set out at midday, and only arrived at the Great Sept when the sun was already well into its descent. Margaery was at the front of the procession, clad in all black, a widow beautiful even in her grief. My wife and I followed her, also clad in black. The entire procession was clad in black, save the Kingsguard that formed a guard around the royal family. I laughed a little at how rich the cloth merchants had become after Aegon's death. At least it benefited someone.
Given the Crown's new grip on the Faith, I had decided that a gesture of reconciliation was in order. That was why the long procession marched towards the Sept of Baelor, instead of holding the ceremony within the Red Keep itself. The new High Septon, a somewhat young and rotund individual, greeted us wordlessly on the steps of his sept and led the procession inside.
I remember little of the ceremony. I know I stood vigil over my son that night. He looked so peaceful in death, wrapped in his shroud embroidered with the Targaryen dragon and the Martell sun and spear. I hoped that his death was fast and painful. I prayed that the Faceless Man had at least granted him that mercy. The hours bled together, and days seemed to pass in the blink of an eye to me then. Later, Arthur Dayne told me that I had spent close to a week inside there, standing vigil. I will have to take his word for it, as that time blurs together in my memory.
One night stood out, however, though I know not which one. Much of my family visited me in that stretch of time, but I cannot recall the order. My wife, my lover, my brother, my now-heir, my sister-in-law... and my widowed daughter-in-law. She joined me in a night's vigil. I don't know who or how it started, but I know how it ended: with myself inside her, not ten feet away from the boy whom we'd shared.
Afterwards, we silently agreed to never discuss the event again, which became easier when it became apparent that our lonely tryst had produced no shameful fruit.
The next few months were subdued, and I turned to many things to try and drown out my sadness. I turned to drink, but quickly disdained it. It would have been an insult to Aegon, to kill him and then to drown myself in drink. I frequented brothels for a week, but, again, found no fervor there. I turned to books, but even there I lost interest. I slowly withdrew from the world, and only emerged on a few occasions.
These occasions were all matrimonial in nature. The informal betrothal between Halys Targaryen, my new heir, and the sister closest to him in age, Daeryssa, was broken. The former was betrothed to the Barren Widow, as some cruel smallfolk came to call Margaery, and the latter was married to Edmure Tully to bind the Riverlands to the Crown more tightly. Disarming the seemingly ancient coalition against me was still a great concern, as in its prime it could have boasted of mustering a hundred thousand men. To bind the Westerlands to the Crown, a bastard prince's hand was offered to the newly ascended Lady Paramount of the Westerlands. Galbart was my youngest child, born of Lyanna. The Red Keep was joyous then, as everyone tried to return to their old lives. I couldn't, though, not after what I had done. I did not even see my daughter off to her wedding, instead wasting away in my quarters.
I was happy when Mya Stone finally landed in Maidenpool. It gave me something to do, a reason to live. I called the banners and raised my hosts.
While my army was still mustering in King's Landing, the new High Septon acted like the biggest incompetent fool the world had ever seen. He sided with Mya Stone against me. The ravens he sent out to the various lords were shot down before they ever left the city, and his head was pitted on a spike in the Red Keep before the hour was up.
When a host of thirty-three thousand men was mustered, I set out. I would need no more men to crush my distant cousin. And if, by some stroke of fate, she managed to break my army, dozens more would come to destroy her.
________________________________________________________________
So yes, Margaery did join my harem, if only for a brief moment. I felt very awkward doing it however, all things considered, and frankly I still wanted a double alliance with the Reach. That, and some sweet sweet Quick heirs.
- 1
By the seven gods, Rhaegor screws everything that moves!
And the High Septon mechanic is broken again!
And the High Septon mechanic is broken again!