Chapter 37: Arc 4, Trial II

-King's Landing-

The newly named king released a sigh, and leaned back into the throne, as he watched the rest of the Lannisters leave the Great Hall of the Red Keep. Jon closed his eyes taking all of the information he just received from one Genna Lannister.

Daeron needed to deal with the Freys, and fast. They are going to be a problem and a major one if they are not dealt with soon. Jon rubbed his eyes, remembering who the next few trials are for. Then it reminded of what he did to the rest of the Lannisters. He took their homes, and gave them money to leave Westeros, and to never come back.

But he did notice one thing with the Lannisters. One of them was missing, Lancel Lannister, son of Kevan Lannister, and Dorna Swyft. He remembered him from the tourney, impatient, arrogant, and had a singing voice. The last time anyone saw him was during the battle, running away from the battle, like a coward.

But what claimed his mind the most was the thought of his sister, and step-mother who were on the island of Naath. The island that Missandei came from, her home island. He smiled at how much of a gift that would be to his friend. Bringing her home.

Jon was taken from his thoughts by the doors opening. Jon looked towards the great oak to find a group of people coming towards the throne. One of them was dressed in all red, with burnish copper hair, and unsettling red eyes.

Leading the group was Stannis Baratheon, to his left was a man with brown hair, and eyes, and with a pouch around his neck. To Stannis' right was a woman who wasn't attractive, and as tall as the man leading them. Behind the man to the left was a girl who had grey, and cracked skin on her lower cheek, and most of her neck.

The group stopped only only ten feet from the steps to the throne. Jon watched the group as they all looked at him with different looks. One with interest, another with hatred, a third with anger, and the last with another interest.

Daeron looked to one of the Dragonguards', and motioned him to come. The knight walked up the steps, and leaned in for Jon to whisper something, "Bring Missandei here, and if you Princess Arianne tell her to bring Oberyn and his daughters." The knight nodded, and left the room. The king looked towards the prisoners of wars, and thought of their fates.

The Stag went to speak but Daeron spoke first, and demanded, "Be quiet." The man glared at him, and went to continue, but the king raised a hand, and then a groan was sounded, and the man fell to his knees, as a spear tip was impaled through the hamstring. Behind him was Oberyn Martell, who had a spear in his hands, with a bloody tip. Daeron nodded, and the response was a grin and a wink.

Jon looked to the prisoners, and nodded when he made up his mind, "Before I had no idea what to do with you, Stannis Baratheon. But now I do." He leaned forward, "Stannis Baratheon, I name you a Commander of the Targaryen Army. You are undeniably a master with the sword, and a master strategist." He stood up, and continued down the stairs, running a hand along the swords as he walked down the stairs.

When Daeron reached the floor, and clenched his hand as he felt the warmth of blood in his leak out. He continued on towards the man who claimed the throne as his, "You may go if you want to, Lord Stannis." The man nodded slowly groaning as he slowly stood up, "Also take your wife with you." He waved her away and together the two left. Jon looked towards the doors and watched as the door closed behind them. Daeron looked towards one of the household guards and nodded.

The guard left the room, and followed after the two. Jon looked towards the Red Witch, whom he stopped in front of. Daeron then looked to the older man, and asked, "And who are you."

The man bowed, "Ser Davos of House of Seaworth, Your Grace."

Daeron nodded, noticing that the man spoke with a very heavy fleabottom accent, "Well Ser Davos." He turned towards the man, "I welcome you back to King's Landing. Do you plan to stay for a while?"

The man shrugged, "I will think about it, Lord."

Daeron nodded, and turned to him completely, "Well I have offers for you, Ser Davos." The man nodded slowly, "The first is you can stay here in King's Landing and run Fleabottom, and bring it to its glory where it doesn't smell of shit for miles away." The man snorted, but nodded, "The next one is you can return to your keep in the Stormlands, and run it until your heir comes of age." Daeron watched as a sad look passed over the man's face, "The final is you join the Targaryen Army as a captain to a ship. You will be paid for your services as all of the men are a part of the army." The man nodded, "If you need time to think of the offer I will give it to you. But I would like an answer by tomorrow when I have returned from a little trip to Naath."

The man nodded, and Daeron waved one of the guards to uncuff the man. As he did this he saw the look on Oberyn's face, one of questioning. The doors opened and the Lord of Rainwood left the hall, and when they closed the side door opened to show a smiling, golden eyes, Missandei who was followed by the guard who Daeron sent out to bring her here.

Daeron smiled, and nodded at the girl, who smiled at him and waved. He looked back to the last two prisoners in the room, waved to the same guard who uncuffed Ser Davos, and motioned him to uncuff the youngest of the two ladies.

The guard uncuffed her, and Daeron spoke, "Shireen Baratheon you have the choice of staying here with your father and mother, or you can go to Storm's End where you will be taught to run a castle, and to command an army, and when that is done you will have Summerhall."

The girl nodded, "I will stay here with my parents, Lord King."

Jon nodded, and motioned a guard to take her to a room, where she can be bathed, and sleep. Daeron then looked to the Red Witch, who was still looking at him with a look of interest.

Jon brought his bloodied hand up, which got the witch's attention, as the hand was covered in his blood. While the woman was looking at the blooded hand, Daeron with his free hand brought it up to the woman's neck, and with a pull, and a yelp, the woman was on her knees and looking up at the man whom her lords chose as a champion.

With his blooded hand Daeron grabbed the ruby necklace, and yanked it off, and slowly the once beautiful woman, turned old and wrinkly. The hair that was in the king's hand was now white and missing. Her once round breasts were shaky, and the dress turned gray. Behind Daeron, he could hear the Red Viper say, "Well there goes that dream."

Jon, who wasn't bothered by this development, threw the necklace away, and raised his blooded hand and started writing in a language only he and his distant ancestors knew, on the woman's gray and old face. When it looked like he was done, he continued down running a finger from the woman's bottom lip, and down her chin and further down until it stopped where the dress stood in its way.

The room was then fill with a loud, ripping noise and the King of Westeros continued. Everyone in the room looked on in couriousty, and when the king backed away from the old woman, everyone looked at her with confusion as the woman had lines, circles, zigzags all over her from head to toe, and right between the shaggy old tits, was what looked like a drawing of a dragon's head.

Daeron who was making his way back to the throne as he cleaned the blood off his hand with a cloth which Missandei gave him. As he reached the throne, and sat down. He looked to see the witch sitting up, but before she went any further, Daeron spoke, and when he did his voice echoed, "Nyke, tresy hen 14 perzyssy, se hen ānogar. Tepagon ao ñuha ānogar syt ao naejot emagon aōha youth arlī, se isse exchange kesā sagon iā buzdari hen low lentor hen Targārien (I, Son of the 14 Flames, and of The Blood. Give you my blood for you to have your youth back, and in exchange you will be a slave of the Low House of Targaryen!)" Everyone looked to the woman, and watched as she fell back against the floor, and as the blood covering her body was slowly being absorbed into her, slowly the wrinkled, and gray skin turned smooth, and bright. The balding white hair was turning red, and long. More the blood was absorbed the more the body changed. But throughout this whole thing the dragon head that was drawn in blood remained.

The room was then filled with silence as everyone watched as the woman's look grew younger and younger, until she looked like she was before their king took off her ruby necklace. The silence was broken when the woman shot up and placed a hand on her left breast, breathing heavily, as if she was just killed and was brought back to life.

The woman looked around, as she ran a hand along her body feeling everything, and as her eyes stopped on the Dragonwolf, she asked, "How?"

Daeron shrugged, "My ancestors, when they lived in Valyria at the time, used that 'spell' to give one of their favourite slaves their youth back." He placed his head in his hand as he leaned onto the throne, "The spell is ancient as it was used by the other families in Valyria, and it is said that it's from the Gods. The 14 Flames of Valyria."

The woman nodded, and slowly stood up, not minding the rip of her dress. When she stood up, she looked around, noticing a movement in the shadows. A slight smile grew on her face, and she looked to the man sitting on the throne, "Your Grace, I am grateful for the gift you have given me." The shadows behind the man started moving, and a shadow with the face of Matthos Seaworth.

The Red Witch watched as the shadow brought up its shadowed blade, and with a grin on the shadow's face, brought the blade down. The knights watched with widening eyes, but the Dragonguards were unmoving as if they were statues.

As the blade was only a centimeter away the shadow stopped, with a look of shock, and fear. The Red Witch was more so, as she watched her creation explode into darkness. When the darkness vanished everyone, that wasn't a Dragonguard, looked to see the king holding a dagger that had two ends, one end being a blade that was pure white, with red liquid dripping from certain spots on it, and the other end was a blade of black which shined as the sun shined on it.

Melisandre slowly took a step back, but was stopped as she felt a blade touching it. She felt a shiver go down her back as it continued sliding down, only stopping when it got to her mid back. She looked at the man who just killed her own creation, and asked, again, "How?"

Daeron Targaryen placed the dagger beside him, and answered, "Shadow Demons. Minions of the 'God' R'hllor. Can only be birthed from a priestess of the Red 'God'. People believe that the Shadows are invincible." Slowly a little sliver of darkness fell down, landing on the king's index finger, "But little did anyone know, is that those beings have one weakness." The darkness slowly faded, "Weirwood." The king's eyes shot towards the witch, "Even a small branch could destroy it."

Melisandre absorbed the information as the man spoke, and when he was finished she watched as the man stood up, grabbing both swords, as he walked down the stairs. He stopped in front of her, and looked into her eyes, "You are no threat to me. You lost your power the minute, your body absorbed my blood." He placed a finger onto the drawing of a dragon head, "This here is the symbol of your powerlessness, and your slavery." He leaned into her ear, and whispered, "You are nothing."

The woman watched as the man backed away, and with a wave of his hand a guard grabbed her arm and started moving her towards the great oak doors. As the doors closed she watched as the man named king turned to the Red Viper, and said, "Rhaenys, and Elia Targaryen are alive on the island of Naath."