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Barth's Whisper: HOTD SI Ch.7
🕑 Added 2025-07-10 18:42:00 +0000 UTCChapter 7 GALEN Galen had never really expected to become a counsellor. That one day, he would walk in the footsteps of the very man who had
Chapter 7 GALEN Galen had never really expected to become a counsellor. That one day, he would walk in the footsteps of the very man who had
Chapter 7 GALEN Galen had never really expected to become a counsellor. That one day, he would walk in the footsteps of the very man who had
Chapter 7
GALEN
Galen had never really expected to become a counsellor. That one day, he would walk in the footsteps of the very man who had birthed him.
But in the end, the King’s command had been final. Galen had spent years avoiding castle walls and Targaryen eyes. Now they welcomed him as one of their own.
The Crown had dispatched a whole series of soldiers to his residence to escort him to the castle, and after much thinking, he had decided against moving his entire belongings from that place and had simply tasked Morro with guarding the place, for a part of him could already see this ending rather quickly.
After all, few lords could stand to see a commoner rise beyond their station.
And as he entered the capital, it was not the King or the Queen who welcomed him on his return, but the Spring Prince. Balon Targaryen, by this point, was a man grown. He was forty years old, and his once glistening hair had begun to lose its luster, as the grey in it began to turn white.
He had a broad face and broad shoulders, and possessed more rugged features. The man was now a grandfather himself, with the realm celebrating the birth of Princess Rhaenyra several years ago.
“I was told that you only brought the bare minimum of your household items?” the heir to the throne asked, and despite his hulking figure, his voice was rather soothing.
“Yes, my Prince,” Galen answered, remembering his niceties and manners as he turned away his gaze and began to scan the room.
“The House is full of materials, instruments, and books involved in the art of healing. Moving it all to the castle seems premature, especially as I intend on continuing to provide healing for the people of the city,” and that intrigued him.
“The Crown pays a handsome compensation to its counsellors. You need not work anymore apart from your duties to the council,” and of course, he knew that the crown would compensate him.
“Of course, I know of the Crown’s generosity. But I do not heal people for money. I do it as a service, as a kindness, and I intend on continuing that,” he declared, though not slowly adding a second part.
“Unless the crown forbids me from it,” and the Prince took a second but shook his head.
“No. What you do in your own time is of no concern to the Crown and the Council. That is as long as it does not affect your duties,” and Galen understood, for now he was a servant of the Crown, and though he remained without a title and responsibility, he could not shirk away from them.
“I will see to it that it does not, my Prince,” he assured the Master of Laws, and if the rumors were anything to go by, he would not be that for much longer.
The King had been much wroth with his current hand, Ser Ryam Redwyne, whom he had chosen after the death of his dear friend Barth. But the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard had proven himself unworthy of filling the shoes left behind by the mercurial friend of the Old King.
Many names were being thrown out, so as to replace the man, and even amongst them, the loudest of them all was the name of the Spring Prince.
Balon Targaryen had learned to rule at the heel of the Throne and had been serving as the Master of Laws for decades now. He was the heir, and as the future King, there was no better man to serve as the King’s Hand, apart from the one who would next sit the Iron Throne.
“Has the Crown decided on what it needs of me?” For though he had been named to the Council, he still remained without a title, nor did he know of his duties.
“Yes,” and the man reached to his side and took out a newly forged gold pin, and pushed it towards him.
“For now, you are the Crown’s Master of Health,” and that was a new title, and Galen reached for the pin.
“And what am I to do as the Master of Health?” he asked respectfully, for he believed he was the first person ever to hold such a title, which was really quite an honor.
“That the Crown leaves to you,” and his shoulders sagged at that, and perhaps seeing his dejection, the Prince was quick to add.
“But generally, the Crown will hold you responsible for improving upon the health of its people. You are to deal with plagues, diseases, and other such emergencies,” and the Maesters mostly dealt with that.
“That is often the Grand Maester’s duty.” The words left him with hesitation, for he had an inkling that this entire affair was not so simple, that there was a reason beyond his heritage and actions for the King’s naming him to his council.
“Indeed, but you pride yourself as a healer, don’t you?” he suddenly added, and Galen offered a tight nod.”
“I do,” he agreed, it was his one most prized trait and characteristic.
“Then now you are a healer who has the Crown’s ear and blessing. Do with that what you will,” and so it was a kind of black cheque, and he wondered just how far would they allow him to go.
He had a few ideas in his mind, but he would need to ponder over them a bit more to make a proper proposal.
“This is a great opportunity. Do not waste it, Healer Galen,” and for he was neither a lord nor a ser, the Prince had chosen a title for him.
“I will try not to, my Prince,” and with that, their discussion seemed to be over.
“Someone will come to escort you to your quarters. You can ask the servants for anything you may need. A council meeting is scheduled after two days, and it is the King’s command that you attend it,” and that seemed standara.
“Then I will excuse...” but before he could move, the Prince’s voice cut through the room, stopping him.
“Wait,” the Prince called out as Galen looked up.
“Yes,” and this time those amethyst eyes grew sharp as the Prince.
“Sit. There is one more thing we need to discuss before I send you on your way,” and he had an idea just what it was.
“Of course,” he said, sitting back down.
“The Crown owes you a debt for saving the life of my sister. My sister in her naivery fell for the honeyed words of a damned singer and found herself with child. The man ruined her honor, and the Crown went to great lengths to keep it all secret,” and of course they did.
“You do understand what I am trying to say?” the Prince asked, his tone now threatening as Galen nodded.
“I do,” simply put, they were asking him to keep the Princess’s secret and not reveal it to anyone, not that he had any intention of doing so anyway.
“Rumors have already begun to circulate, but many would seek to confirm them just to besmirch the good name and honor of the Royal Family. You are amongst the few people who know the truth of this whole incident, but you are a servant of the Crown, and as its servant, it is your duty to protect that honor,” and of course it was.
Balon’s voice dropped to a whisper, but it carried steel as he gave him the ultimatum.
“They will come to you to confirm this, but you will say nothing of it. You never met the Princess before you saved her life on the Blackwater Bay. Is that understood?” and what could he say but nod along.
“It will be as you say, my Prince,” and before he could say anything else, there was a knock on the door, as the Prince’s expression shifted.
“Come in,” he ordered, and the door opened as Galen heard a sound footsteps from behind.
“I apologise for being late,” Galen heard, and he found the voice somewhat familiar as he turned his gaze to the side and saw an all-too-familiar face standing beside him.
“No need for that, Otto,” and indeed he had been right. The young man beside him was none other than the brother of Lord Horbert Hightower, the spare son of Old Town, and the very man who had led the campaign against him, that had led to his expulsion from the Citadel.
“Otto, this is Healer Galen. The King has appointed him to his council. Escort him to the quarters I had cleaned earlier,” and those orange eyes met his own brown orbs, as the Prince made to introduce the man.
“This is Ser Otto Hightower, a member of my household. He will lead you to your quarters,” the Prince added, and Galen wondered if fate was laughing now at his fortune.
“It is good to see you again, Ser Otto,” Galen greeted the man, and the King frowned at his words.
“Again?” picked up the Prince rather astutely.
“Have you two met before?” he asked, as Galen stood beside Otto and wondered if things would end differently this time.
“Yes,” it was the son of Old Town that answered as he gave him a rather snide look, before continuing innocently as his jaw clenched. The man beside him wore the same smugness Galen remembered from Oldtown
“We studied at the Citadel at the same time....”
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THE GOOD QUEEN—ALYSANNE TARGARYEN
Far from Galen and the newly minted council, the castle’s eastern balcony held a quieter grief as the Queen pondered over her daughter’s deteriorating condition from the servants.
They called her the Good Queen, but Alysanne would rather be a good mother.
All the accolades, all the praise, it meant nothing to her in this moment as she watched her dear Gael wither away in front of her eyes. The blessed healer may have been able to bring her back from the brink of death, but her daughter had lost her will to live.
Alysanne had pleaded, begged, and prayed, yet Gael refused to eat, or do anything as she lay there in her bed, uttering no word at all. Jaehaerys was worried as well, and though no blade or arrow had been able to bring down the old King, the guilt of what he had done to his best friend’s sire had put him to bed as well.
And though the maesters expected him to make a full recovery, in these troubling times, she could not share her burdens with him as well.
“I am worried about Gael,” she whispered and though the Gods may have robbed her of her daughters, they had blessed her with a very dutiful son, and so in these troubling times, she called for Balon, and spoke to him of Gael’s burdens.
“Why?” he asked, and after what had happened with him and Viserra, Balon had kept himself at a distance from Gael, yet she had no doubt about his love for his sister.
“The girl. She refuses to eat or drink. Already she had been weakened greatly by the stillbirth, but now she grows thinner by the day,” and Gael had never been the healthiest of her children. The Winter child they called her, for she had come to her in the winter of her childbearing age.
She had been born small and ill, and those ailments had persisted for years. But Alysanne had been happy to have a daughter, and yet she could feel her life slipping away.
“You were always the closest to her amongst us,” and she was as the cold wind blew and hit them as they sat on the balcony of her room.
“I am, but she refuses to even talk with me,” and her eyes grew heavy as she stared down at the table and saw her withered face reflected in its sheen.
“I have begged her. Balon begged, but she remains hell bent on ending her life,” and she could not stand that. She could not bear to lose another daughter. Not Gael.
“I can try, but I doubt my words would have any more effect than yours,” Balon added, and Gael refused to see Jaehaerys, who also had no desire to see her.
In the end, she could think of no one who could bring her back from this ailment.
“The Maesters believe it is an ailment of the mind, that she needs time,” but she was slipping away from them.
“And I wonder if she really has that time,” she saw Balon’s eyes go dull at her words, as her Spring Prince grew worried.
“It’s all because of that damned singer!” and she closed her eyes, controlling her rage. Alysanne had never been fond of murder, and death but if there was any man who deserved to die, it was that scum.
“I would burn him to the death,” she whispered, and she doubted she would have the opportunity for Balon would do that before her.
“I could summon back Viserys,” Balin suggested suddenly, and the idea was sound.
“Yes, that might be of some help,,” she agreed instantly, and it was not for Viserys that she grew a bit hopeful. Her grandson, as jovial as he was, was not much closer to Gael than his own father.
But, with Viserys would come Aemma, and with Aemma, their daughter Rhaenyra. It had been the loss of a child that had pushed her daughter to this brink, and perhaps holding and seeing a child may give her some hope.
And Aemma, she would understand. Her granddaughter was of a milder nature and of Gael’s age.
“But is Rhaenyra old enough to travel?” she asked, and Balon nodded, as a smile blossomed on his face.
“Yes, she is, and Balerion is large enough to sit Viserys’s entire family,” and the largest of the dragons could indeed sit more than three people.
“But what of Dragonstone?” for Viserys saw to the Keep as Balon served as Master of Laws, and if he were to come to Kingslanding as well.
“Don’t worry. Daemon is there,” and the mention of his other son made her lips thin. For Viserys may have been a dutiful son, but his brother was anything but that.
Unruly and angry, she had secured a rather good match for him with the heiress of Runestone, yet the young couple had had a rocky start to their marriage, which was only made worse as Daemon continued to insult his wife and her people.
In the end, he had taken refuge on Dragonstone with his brother, not daring to come back to the capital, for he knew that he would get quite a lesson from her on how to treat one’s wife.
“That child,” she lamented, and wondered if brokering the match had been the right thing.
“Have him come as well,” she ordered as Balon stiffened at her words.
“I know that you are...”
“We have let this go on for too long, Balon,” she added sharply.
“The boy is married now, and has a wife and a keep of his own. He needs to be mindful of his duties,” and though he may be her blood, but she would not let him make a mockery of his wife and her House.
“He has hidden away on Dragonstone for long enough. It is time that someone teaches that boy a lesson,” and since Alyssa was long gone from the world, she would do her daughter’s duty and teach her son what it is to be a husband.
“I will do as you, mother,” and Daemon may be his son, but Balon was her son and could not deny his mother or his Queen.
And so they sat there in silence, worrying over the various ordeals facing their family, yet mostly they talked about Gael and her worries about he daughter, until he made a suggestion.
“Well, if the Maesters think it an ailment, then why don’t you summon him?” and he had no need of mentioning the name. And indeed, it was a sound suggestion.
“Where is he?” she asked.
“He must be in the city right now, but he will be in the castle tomorrow for the Council Meeting. I will send him to you afterwards,” and she did not know that the Small Council was set to meet tomorrow, and that Galen was to partake in it as well.
“Perhaps, he can perform one of his famous miracles and help Gael....”
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Comments
FallenMetalGod
Thank you, and I am curious to see if Galen will try to outwit Otto, especially if he starts pulling strings. I am also interested in whether Galen will be the one who helps Gael. Great job, as always, and I look forward to seeing what happens next.
Radiant Tiefling
Thank you for the chapter.
