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HOTD: The Rogue's Son-SI Ch.58
🕑 Added 2025-03-13 16:11:04 +0000 UTCChapter 58
Away in Lys, Saera Targaryen heard about the plans being hatched in Myr she smirked as she saw their futility, and mistake.
“They may have just sealed their fates with this idiocy,” she commented as she threw the missive into the air while standing on the balcony of the manse looking over the great city of Lys.
“They may as well have sealed the fate of this entire city with this idiocy.” With that, she turned around and faced her loyal servant, Hota.
“Make preparations,” she ordered the loyal servant, who nodded at her words.
“Sell what we have, gather all the gold and belongings, we are to leave Lys,” for the idiot Magisters had thought it wise to anger a dragon, and for that they would burn.
They would all burn.
And it ate at her to leave Lys. All that she had built over the years was now gone, taken from her just as Lysandro was taken from her. And the thought of him made her fist ball up as her servant voiced up.
“To where, my lady?” Hota questioned, and she raked her mind, trying to think of a suitable place, and in the end, only one place came to her mind, for perhaps the only way she could escape his wrath was to be as far away as she could be.
“To Qarth....”
0000
VISERYS TARGARYEN
There had been little to celebrate for over the last few years, as the shadow of his own ailment and the war hung over the Red Keep. The feasts and the tournies had dried up, as he found himself favouring the quiet solitude of his room and the company of his tomes.
But there were few times when a celebration was necessary, and the birth of a royal Prince was one such occasion. And so, after quite some time, the Halls of the Red Keep were filled with guests and bards as the Royal family welcomed the birth of another Prince.
The Gods had been much kinder to Rhaenyra and Aegon, far kinder than they ever had been to him and Aemma.
And half a moon ago, the Royal family had added another young Prince to its ranks. Daeron Targaryen, was born hale and healthy with a strong pair of lungs, and the babe right now slept, nestled in Rhaenyra’s arms as she sat beside him at the head of the table, as the lords and ladies enjoyed the festivities arranged for his birth.
However, it was not only the new Prince that they celebrated. No, they celebrated their victory in war as well, as Aegon’s forces tore through the Stepstones.
Isle after isle fell to his armies, and the Crown’s diminishing power and prestige was all restored in but a few moons as Aegon brought those unruly islands to heel.
“Was this truly necessary?” whispered his daughter from the side, as she greeted another one of the lesser lords who had come to enjoy the festivities.
And the years had but added to her beauty, and her child-like charm was only replaced by the beauty of womanhood, as she sat there clad in her their House colors of Red and Black.
“It was,” he answered, as she met his eyes and retorted.
“We are still at war,” she argued, and it was a sound argument.
“And we are winning it,” and it was perhaps one of Aegon’s faults. For all his blessings, the boy cared little for celebrations and festivities. He was frugal and terse with his gold.
But the boy forgot that he was to be a King, and as a King, one must share their joys and victories with the lords and the people, to remind them of their royalty and power.
“Such things are often necessary. The people must not just hear of our victories. They must seem them,” he taught her, as she sighed, passing off the sleeping babe to the maid beside her.
“From what I remember, you used to enjoy it all when you were young,” and she was still young, but her marriage had changed her. Mostly for the better. But mostly, not entirely.
“That was when I was young,” she retorted, and he chuckled at her answer as he held her hand.
“You are still young,” and she shook her head.
“I do not feel young,” and the circles around her eyes were answer enough. The birthing bed was a war, one which had taken as much from this family as a real war, and she was still recovering from that.
But appearances needed to be kept.
“Do you not have some friends at court, ladies to keep you company?” he asked and missed how her mood shifted for an instant before she answered.
“No, not anymore,” and that was a surprise.
“What of your cousin, the Lady Jeyne? She was set to arrive to the capital a few days ago,” and yet he had heard no news of her arrival.
Both of them had gotten much closer after Rhaenyra’s marriage, but then the brown-haired girl had just left the Red Keep suddenly for some reason, only to never return again.
But he had heard that she was set to come back.
“Yes, but she was delayed. They say she might arrive today,” Rhaenyra answered after some seconds of silence, though it lacked the enthusiasm he had hoped it would have.
“Well, I hope she returns before the tourney in a few days. It would be good to have her back in the Red Keep.” Rhaenyra nodded as they both continued to smile and greet the lords that came to congratulate them.
Some spoke of the child, others spoke of the war and Aegon’s swift victory. Few even talked of revenge, and how the Crab Feeder had been defeated and his brother avenged, yet the tension in the air was not hidden from him.
And the whispers of it all had already reached his ears.
Aegon’s victories had made people nervous. Especially, with it coming out that Aegon did not plan to stop after conquering those wretched isles of the Stepstones. That he planned to go beyond them and wage war against the Triarchy.
There had been whispers of it for years, but now, as those whispers turned into a reality, the lords grew nervous, both at the Crown’s prowess and the prospect of prolonged and arduous war.
None dared to voice out their opinion, at least not yet. But already, Lyonel had told him that there were certain whispers about the war, and the cruelty of Aegon and his men, but none had yet had the courage to speak of it in the open.
And then suddenly, the air in the Hall shifted, as the lords and the ladies stopped and began to part ways.
Viserys frowned at the scene, as he saw the doors being opened up, as he saw a man being wheeled into the Hall by a small retinue.
They wore green, dark and bright green, and of all the Houses he knew but one House who favored that color, and as his eyes landed on the man in the wheel chair, he stilled as he realised just who it was.
The years had changed him much, the once towering presence that had ruled by his side had become but a shell of himself, confined to a chair much like him, but he knew who it was.
The retinue passed through the crowd and made their way to the Royal table, and he saw the old bearded man look up into his eyes as the name of his once friend slipped out of his lips.
“Otto...”
“It has been quite some time, your grace....”
.
.
.
.
They retired to his solar, and Viserys found himself much surprised by the appearance and presence of Otto back in the capital. He was an old friend, one of the few who still remained.
They had not parted on the best of terms, as Viserys found him lying to him. However, it was not the lying which had pushed his hand. For Jaehaerys often said that all Hands must lie to their Kings, and Otto had been a good hand. Until, he had let his anger and ambition blind him, putting his own interests beyond even the Crown’s.
That had been the final straw, and Viserys was left with no choice but to push the man away. To protect himself, his family, and the Crown.
“You have aged,” he began, as Otto nodded. It was a coincidence that both of them had been forced into this new contraption to move around, having lost their legs to different ailments.
“I have,” and despite the distance between them, news about him often reached his ears.
“I heard about the death of your sons,” Viserys began. He saw his old friend’s face shift, lowered his head, and sighed.
“The Seven taketh what the Seven giveth. I had just hoped that the Gods had chosen not to punish them for my sins,” and losing both of his sons had seemed to age him by decades. His once lush brown hair was now white and thin, with lines covering his face.
He had become even thinner, and yet he sat in his chair with the same regality as always.
“I know that I wrote to you as well, but I must apologise for my actions once more,” Otto began as he looked into his eyes.
“I betrayed your trust and let my sorrow and anger blind me to my duties, and I am still regretful of it all.” Viserys waved his hand.
“It has been years now. Tell me about your life,” he asked as the servants brought them wine and food. Otto nodded, sipping his glass.
“Nothing much. Truth is that I have not seen a day of peace since the death of my precious daughter,” and it had been years since someone had brought her up.
“I wronged her, as a father. And the Gods chose to punish me for it by taking away all my children from me,” and it was a shame indeed.
“The Gods are cruel,” he agreed as he glanced at his own broken and lifeless legs, covered by the thick blanket, as Otto nodded.
“That they are,” agreeing with him as he glanced at his own face and legs.
“What brings you to the capital?” he asked.
“After Gwayne’s death, I had nothing to live for. I found myself facing my own mortality and mistakes, and realised that I was not long for this world as well,” and that was somber.
“And so, before the Stranger took me as well, I wished to right one of my greatest wrongs. I wished to apologize to you and to my own daughter whom I wronged,” and he spoke of Alicent again.
“Perhaps. Her forgiveness could bring me some solace,” and she was buried here, at her own request, in a plot of land just beyond the Godswood.
It had few visitors, and he knew only of one person who visited that grave.
“I assure you I have come with no intention of trying to regain my lost honors,” Otto corrected with a small smile, seeing through his question.
“I doubt I could serve you as well as Lord Lyonel, with just how much the city and the castle have changed,” and so it eased his mind that he did not expect such a thing.
Lyonel Strong had served him well, and even though Otto was his friend, it would not reflect well on the realm if he were to replace Lyonel for no reason.
And then there was the fact that Otto may be his friend. But there was little doubt in his mind that neither Rhaenyra nor Aegon had any love for the man, and so making him a part of his council would unsettle them both.
“Well, I will not deny that it is soothing to hear that. As good as you were, the Council is already complete,” and Otto nodded.
“I know, and I assure you, I have no wish to be part of it again,” Otto added, as Viserys nodded.
“But,” Viserys cut in.
“Even though I may have no need for new councilors, with my age and condition, I am always in need of an old friend.”
0000
RHAENYRA TARGARYEN
The entire castle whispered about the return of Otto Hightower and what it entailed. From what little she had managed to hear, her father had refused to give him a seat in his Council, but the sheer proximity to the King was as great a boon as any for a man like Otto Hightower.
He was as cunning as a fox, and there was little love lost between him and Aegon. His presence in the capital was a surprise, one which needed to be investigated at once.
Aegon was away at war, and so this duty fell to her. Distraught and broken as their relationship may be, she knew that she must defend him and his interests in his absence.
But making any rushed move against a man as cunning and conniving as Otto Hightower would be a mistake.
She first had to understand his intentions and most importantly how he was able to blindside them all by reaching the capital with such secrecy.
And though it loathed her, she had no choice but to call for her.
Her, as in the woman who was Aegon’s hand in a way. The one person who had helped him execute his heinous plans.
And so, she sat in her solar pacing, as suddenly the doors to her room opened up as a servant walked in and gave a small bow.
“She is here,” and she nodded.
“Bring her in,” and the man bowed before two guards led in a woman of middling height and dark hair. She wore a white dress, and little jewelry.
Her face was exotic, showing her unique lineage as she gave a small bow.
“You summoned me, my Princess,” and she did not answer as she turned towards her servants.
“Leave us,” she ordered, and the men hesitated for a second before they all left the solar leaving her alone in the room with that woman.
Mysaria was her name. A brothel owner who had once been the favoured woman of her uncle Daemon. However, Aegon had found a better use of her talents, turning the woman into his arms and legs, using her to plot and reach lands far beyond the Crown’s control.
The woman seemed nervous as the doors closed behind her and gulped before she began once more.
“I know not why you have summoned me, princess. How can I serve....” and she had no time for these faux pleasantries as she cut in.
“There is no need for this farce,” and the woman perked up at her words as her eyes lifted from the ground, and she met her gaze.
“I know who you are Mysaria, and more importantly, I know what you do,” she added, as the woman raised a brow.
“I am surprised,” she answered, but Aegon had told her about her. Not all of it, but the important things, and she knew that this woman was his eyes and ears.
“You must have an idea about why I was forced to call for you in such a way,” Rhaenyra began, not offering her a seat, as the woman nodded.
“I have an inkling it must be because of the return of our former Hand,” and her guess.
“Yes, and it makes me wonder if Aegon had any knowledge of it.” And of so why had he not mentioned it, or why had he even allowed it to happen?
“I am afraid he did not. This was a surprise, one which even I did not anticipate,” and so her guess was wrong.
“But why? I thought you were his eyes and ears,” she argued, and the dark-haired woman looked into her eyes before she answered.
“I do carry out that role, but my domain lies beyond our shores. Within them, this responsibility is carried by another one,” and she did not know these details.
“And how was it that Otto Hightower made it to the Red Keep without any of us hearing a whisper about it?” she asked, and the answer came after a few seconds in silence.
“I cannot be certain, but there is but one most likely explanation,” she began as Rhaenyra raised a brow.
“Treason...” and the air in the room turned somber at the answer, for she had suspected as much.
“Handle it,” she ordered, as she stared into those eyes.
“I will take care of Otto Hightower and his schemes, but if his presence here is a result of treason. Then handle it, and handle it quick.” She ordered.
“But Prince Aegon...”
“Aegon is not here,” she thundered.
“Take care of it at once. I command it,” she finished as sternly as she could.
“Leave Aegon to me....”
.
.
And just as the woman left, another servant entered her solar and spoke the ominous words.
“The retinue from the Vale has arrived....”
0000
Comments
Noknok
The man is dangerous, he has nothing to lose. There is no more dangerous man.
FallenMetalGod
Thank you. It looks like Rhaenyra is going to do something quite stupid or good. It depends on how things will play out. Jeyne is coming, so let's see how things play out. Great job, as always, and I can't wait to see what happens next.
Radiant Tiefling
Thank you for the update.
