Chapter 27

Taking advantage of the chaos in Duskendale caused by the fierce attack of Solarex, Aeryon and his companions reached the hidden passage through which they infiltrated the city. The dim starlight barely pierced through the thick clouds as the prince and his comrades emerged from the besieged city. The cold night air felt especially refreshing after the stagnant stench of the dungeons.

Behind them, the distant roar of the dragon still echoed as it unleashed fiery punishment upon the crown's traitors. Aeryon approached his father's limp body, supported by Ralf. "We need to move faster," he thought, still feeling the tension from the chase and the battle gripping his body.

They neared the camp, and within minutes, their footsteps were heard by the soldiers on watch. The camp was in disarray—the recent roar of the dragon had thrown everyone into panic, with warriors still unaware of the events rushing about in fear. But as soon as they saw the prince returning with the king, the shouts of concern turned to cries of relief and joy. The soldiers, stunned by such a daring rescue, hurried to greet the hero.

Aeryon and his group approached the camp when commanders and lords came running out of a nearby tent. Leading the way were two figures—Tywin Lannister and Rhaegar Targaryen.

The prince, gripping his sword's hilt, silently met their gazes. He sensed the barely contained storm of emotions brewing beneath Lannister's tense expression. Tywin was trying to maintain a calm exterior, but his eyes betrayed his dissatisfaction—it seemed this outcome was not what he had desired.

"You're alive, Aeryon. As is His Grace," the formidable Lion finally spoke, casting a glance at the king, who was immediately rushed to by healers. They swiftly carried Aerys and Oswell into a tent for treatment.

Aeryon responded to Lannister with a thin, barely noticeable smile.

"Is it just me, or does your voice carry a hint of disappointment, my lord?" the prince replied with a slight mockery, shifting his attention to Rhaegar, who stepped forward.

The elder Targaryen's face was filled with a mix of anger, relief, and hidden anxiety.

"How did this happen?" His voice was steady, but a restrained threat lingered within. "You've gone too far, brother."

Aeryon didn't rush to answer. He glanced at his friends standing behind him.

"It's a long story. You know, many forces gathered here, yet no one dared to take the crucial step—to save our father."

"With your reckless actions, you not only endangered your life but also Aerys'. This endeavor narrowly avoided turning into a tragedy."

"Are you sure that's the real issue? Perhaps I just disrupted someone's plans?" Aeryon's eyes gleamed with a cold sneer.

Upon hearing this accusation, Rhaegar lost control of his emotions. He stepped forward, grabbed his brother by the collar, and pulled him close. The surrounding soldiers were taken aback, unsure of what to do.

But Aeryon remained calm. He slowly leaned closer to Rhaegar's face and quietly said:

"You're forgetting yourself, brother. I'm no longer a child. Let go of me, or I'll cut off your hands."

Tywin Lannister's hand rested on the elder Targaryen's shoulder. His icy voice sliced through the tense silence.

"I believe we're all overwhelmed by the heroism of the second prince. The joy of the king's rescue has clouded our minds. Perhaps we should all take a breath and rest."

Rhaegar slowly released his brother, and Aeryon smiled, looking around at the gathered soldiers before loudly proclaiming:

"I completely agree with Lord Tywin. Today marks our victory. Your king is alive and safe, and tomorrow the impenetrable fortress will open its gates to us. No one else will have to risk their lives or shed blood. Tonight, we must celebrate this... for the king's salvation!"

"Long live the king!" the joyous cries of the soldiers echoed in response.

After resting and returning to his tent, the prince began contemplating the new information. Following his conversation with Darklyn, thoughts of a certain Hubert, the only living person who knew about the letter, haunted him. The young Targaryen deemed it unwise to search the entire castle, thus putting himself in danger. A new plan was forming in Aeryon's mind. He understood that with the loss of the king and Denys, Duskendale would have no choice but to surrender, and then Oswell could challenge Hubert to a deadly duel to avenge his brother in arms - Gwayne Gaunt. How surprised the prince was when Ralf informed him that Whent had already killed Hubert. It seemed fate itself was on the Targaryen's side. This fact only strengthened his confidence in his own righteousness.

The next day, as the light of the morning sun touched the tent, King Aerys Targaryen awoke. For the first time in many months, his eyes did not see the dreadful walls of a dungeon. His gaze, filled with anger and exhaustion, scanned the tent, and before he could fully regain his senses, lords began gathering around him.

They crowded at the entrance like predators sensing prey. Each one attempted to express their fake concern, to prove their "loyalty," but not forgetting to mention how much effort had been spent on the siege.

"Your Grace, praise the Seven that you're alive!" one of them began, not even bothering to offer a proper bow.

"We prayed for your salvation!" another cried, sycophantically.

"Indeed, our efforts to rescue you were not in vain, as you are already..."

At some point, Aerys stopped hearing their words. The mounting wave of irritation and anger toward those around him quickly turned into rage. His fingers trembled, his gaze hardened, and his breathing quickened. The king was on the edge.

" GET OUT!" he roared, slamming his fist against the intricately carved wooden table by his bed. "ALL OF YOU, GET OUT!"

The people instantly fell silent, their faces pale. One by one, they stumbled out of the tent, leaving the king alone in his fit of rage. Only the guards remained at the entrance, afraid to make even the slightest move. Aerys, still fuming, tried to stand, but his body was too weak. He took a deep breath, rubbed his head with his hands, and turned to one of the guards.

"Bring Aeryon here. Immediately!"

A few minutes later, the prince entered the tent. He immediately noticed the faint scent of herbs mixed with something sweet, likely added by the healers to calm the king.

"You saved me, son," Aerys said, his voice unusually even, though dark undertones of madness lurked beneath his words. "You showed bravery, for which I must reward you... But first, we must punish the traitors. I want Duskendale wiped off the face of the earth! No one must be left alive!"

Aeryon, standing before the king, listened to his words with an impassive face. Inside, however, his concern was growing. Aerys' emotions were unstable, which could lead to unpredictable consequences. A plan was already forming in Aeryon's mind, but he knew he had to act cautiously.

"Father," the prince began gently, maintaining a calm tone, "your anger is justified, and no one disputes that House Darklyn deserves the harshest punishment. But Duskendale is a city, home not only to traitors but also to innocent people. Many of them even helped in saving you. If we direct our wrath solely at those who are guilty, it will demonstrate the wisdom of your rule."

The king stared at his son in silence, his gaze fluctuating between gratitude and paranoia. Aeryon sensed that he needed to move quickly to solidify his position.

"I propose another path," the prince continued, not giving his father time to think too long. "House Darklyn must be punished, but Duskendale can become a symbol of loyalty to the crown if it is entrusted to someone who has already proven their devotion. This will strengthen your authority and show everyone that the crown is just toward loyal lords. Ralf Buckler was with me when I rescued you, and he was ready to give his life for his king."

Aerys frowned, his eyes narrowing in suspicion and vague concern. His madness clouded his thoughts, but something in his son's words made him pause.

"Ralf?" the king repeated slowly, as if testing how the name sounded on his tongue. "Yes, he was loyal... Perhaps you're right."

The prince inclined his head slightly, maintaining his calm exterior, though internally he was already marking his small victory.

"It's a wise decision, father."

Aerys took a deep breath, and for a moment, his mind seemed to clear.

"Very well, let it be so. But House Darklyn must disappear forever."

Aeryon nodded, satisfied that he had managed to temper his father's rage and steer it in a more constructive direction. However, before he could say anything, Aerys spoke again. His voice grew raspy and sharper.

"But here's what truly interests me," the king continued, narrowing his eyes. "I can't believe you risked your life just to save mine. What do you really want?"

The young Targaryen paused before replying, carefully choosing his words.

"Father," he began calmly, but with a note of insistence, "I understand your suspicions. Not everyone in the Red Keep who calls themselves loyal friends is truly devoted to you. There are too many intrigues and lies. But I am not just your loyal servant—I am your loving son."

Aerys' eyes flared with madness once more, but Aeryon could feel that his words were hitting their mark.

"I ask for no rewards or titles," he continued, trying to convey his sincerity. "My only desire is to serve my family. Allow me to protect you, to be your eyes and hands where danger is greatest. Make me the Captain of the Gold Cloaks, and I promise to find the traitors, to eliminate the threats, to stop the plots before they can reach your throne. No one will dare stand against you."

For a moment, the tent was filled with silence. The prince watched his father intently, trying to catch the slightest change in his expression. The king remained silent, but then his eyes widened as if he saw a vision: a dragon, as bright as gold, spewing hellfire upon the rabble that had dared to capture him. In his imagination, the screams of dying men merged with the raspy laughter that began echoing in his mind.

"So be it! You want to destroy our enemies? Very well, my son, destroy them! Burn all who stand in the way of the crown! Annihilate them all!"

Aeryon dropped to one knee, bowing his head not only as a sign of respect but also to hide the creeping smile forming on his face.