The King's Command

69 AC

Red Keep, King's Landing

The Red Keep's Small Council chamber was as imposing as ever, its stone walls casting long shadows in the morning light that streamed through the narrow windows. The air inside was thick with tension, the kind that had been building for weeks. King Jaehaerys I Targaryen sat at the head of the table, his face impassive but his eyes betraying the storm of thoughts within him. His advisors shifted uneasily in their chairs, knowing the King was in no mood for patience today. The capital had been on edge for a moon now, with rebellion stirring in the poorest quarters of King's Landing.

Lord Septon Barth, the Hand of the King, stood beside the king, hands clasped behind his back, as the king's voice broke the uncomfortable silence.

"What is the current state of the rebellion?" King Jaehaerys asked, his tone sharp and focused. He did not raise his voice, but the command in it was unmistakable.

Septon Barth, a man who had served the king loyally for many years, hesitated slightly, his brow furrowing. "Your Grace, the City Watch has captured several instigators over the past fortnight. Some confessed under questioning to organizing the unrest in Flea Bottom, while others are still being interrogated. It seems they were little more than rabble-rousers—no true leaders among them."

The king's eyes narrowed. "And their purpose?"

The question hung in the air, and for a moment, Barth stole a glance at Prince Aemon, the king's eldest son and heir, who sat silently to the king's left. The Hand cleared his throat, his voice softening. "There are rumors, Your Grace. Whispers that the unrest stems from the fact that Prince Aemon has come of age, and yet no marriage arrangements have been made."

Aemon blinked in surprise, his gaze snapping toward Barth. The reason for the rebellion…was he?

Barth continued cautiously, sensing the growing tension in the room. "There are those who believe that you are delaying the prince's marriage to wait for one of your daughters to come of age, intending to keep the blood of the dragon pure. And though the doctrine of exceptionalism grants the royal family leeway, the common folk are less understanding of such… practices."

King Jaehaerys' face darkened as the weight of Barth's words sank in. His hand clenched the armrest of his chair, knuckles whitening as anger flared behind his eyes. Before he could speak, Barth quickly added, "And there are… other rumors, Your Grace. Of Prince Baelon's recent meeting with a red priestess from Essos. These rumors have further fueled the common folk's unrest, leading them to question the Crown's support of the Faith of the Seven."

The mention of Baelon's name made the king's face grow even harder. Prince Baelon, his second son, had always been a bold and adventurous spirit, but to hear that his private actions were now sparking religious tension within the city was infuriating.

Aemon remained silent, though his mind raced with the implications. His brother's meeting with a red priestess had been a private matter—how had such information reached the streets of King's Landing?

The king's voice cut through the tension like a knife. "What of the Faith? What is their stance on these rumors? How is it that the common folk know of my son's whereabouts and actions when the crown does not?"

The council members exchanged uneasy glances. Grand Maester Elysar, an aging man with thin white hair and a nervous expression, shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his hands fidgeting with the chains around his neck. "Your Grace… the Faith has remained silent on the matter. No official statements have been made by the High Septon regarding the prince's… associations."

The king's gaze remained fixed on Barth, who hesitated to answer. It was Elysar who broke the silence, his voice thick with accusation. "Perhaps, Your Grace, it would be wise to summon Prince Baelon and demand an explanation for his actions. Meeting with a red witch—a heretic—is not a matter to be taken lightly. The prince must be held accountable."

Elysar's tone was laced with disapproval, and the insinuation did not go unnoticed by Aemon, who clenched his fists under the table. His loyalty to his brother ran deep, and the veiled accusation angered him. He spoke before he could stop himself.

"Are you calling my brother a heretic, Grand Maester?" Aemon's voice was burning with fury, his hand on his sword, his eyes narrowing at the older man.

Elysar, flustered by the crown prince's sudden challenge, stammered, "N-no, Your Grace, I merely suggest that the king question the prince's… associations. Such matters can easily be misconstrued by the common folk—"

"That will be enough," King Jaehaerys cut in, his voice a low rumble of displeasure. His gaze bore into the Grand Maester. "The council's advice is appreciated when asked for, Maester Elysar. I do not need guidance on how to speak with my children."

Elysar's face paled, and he quickly bowed his head. "Forgive me, Your Grace. I did not mean to overstep."

The king's displeasure was palpable, and for a moment, silence filled the chamber. It was then that the king shifted his attention back to Barth. "I received word a few days ago that these rumors may have originated from one of the Faith's sermons, preached in Flea Bottom. I sent a few knights in civilian clothes to one of these morning assemblies."

"The results brought back are truly shocking. This preaching not only encourages the common man against the crown but also involves criticizing and insulting the royal family. That's borderline bewitching and fueling anger using unjust means. So, let me ask this, my loyal friend, you, yourself being a Septon, did you know about this?"

A shocked murmur swept through the council. Barth's face tightened, his posture stiffening as he lowered his gaze. "Your Grace, I… I was unaware of any direct involvement by the Faith. I will look into the matter immediately."

Aemon, his thoughts sharp and focused, spoke up again, his voice calmer but filled with simmering anger. "It seems, Father, that the Faith cannot openly oppose our decisions, so they are using their sermons to stoke the common folk's discontent and badmouthing to decrease the royal family's reputation."

Elysar bristled at Aemon's accusation, sitting upright in his chair. "Your Grace, the Crown Prince should not speak ill of the Faith on mere hearsay. Such statements could tarnish the royal family's support of the Seven."

King Jaehaerys raised his hand, silencing the room. His eyes fixed on Elysar with a dangerous glint. "Are you calling your king's words mere hearsay, Grand Maester?"

The accusation hung heavy in the air. Aemon seized the moment, his gaze cool but his voice sharp. "Father, the Grand Maester has been… misinformed on several matters recently. Perhaps it is an illness of the mind. He should write to the Citadel and request a replacement. It might be best for him to return to the Citadel and rest."

Elysar flushed with indignation and his fear now palpable, tried to protest. "Your Grace, I am capable of—"

The king's booming voice rang out, the sound reverberating through the room. "Enough!"

The word echoed through the chamber, and Elysar fell silent, his head bowed low. King Jaehaerys turned back to Barth, his face grim and determined. "Send word to the His Holiness, High Septon. I want him in the throne room by the end of the week. He will answer for the actions of the Faith under his guidance and actions of his subjects—treasonous actions, insult towards the Royal Family, inciting rebellion against the crown, and violating the treaty, signed after the rebellion of 48 AC, between Faith and Crown."

The room fell deathly quiet. The king's words sent shockwaves through the council. To summon the High Septon to court and accuse him of treason was an unprecedented move.

While the rebellion in Flea Bottom was minor compared to past uprisings, this declaration was a direct challenge to the Faith itself.

Septon Barth, ever the king's loyal friend and advisor, cleared his throat, his expression pained. "Your Grace, are you certain this is the best course? Though the Faith's actions may not be right, we have always found peaceful solutions in the past. Open conflict with the Faith could reignite old tensions. And with Dorne ever a threat, we cannot afford an enemy at home."

The Hand's words were reasonable, spoken with a deep concern for the realm's stability. But King Jaehaerys was unmoved. His patience with the Faith had worn thin, and he had no intention of showing mercy this time. Even after being in harmony for 2 decades, they do and commit such acts.

"We have tried peace, Barth. Time and again. But they continue to test my authority. If I let this go, it will show the people that they can rise against the crown without consequence. This rebellion is no simple act of defiance. But the words spoken as an insult to my family are intolerable. It is part of something larger, something deeper. I am final in my decision. The High Septon will answer for his actions."

Aemon, watching his father closely, was struck by the quiet fury in his voice. King Jaehaerys did not raise his voice, nor did his demeanor change, but the anger in his eyes was unmistakable.

As the tension reached its peak, a Kingsguard entered the chamber and bowed before the king. "Your Grace, Prince Baelon has sent the word of his arrival to King's Landing. He will be arriving shortly in a week."

At the mention of his second son, King Jaehaerys' face softened slightly, and the fire in his eyes dimmed. A small smile tugged at Aemon's lips; it had been ten moons since he had seen his brother.

The king nodded. "Inform the queen of Baelon's arrival in a week."

With that, King Jaehaerys rose from his seat, his council following suit. "This meeting is adjourned," he declared, his voice steady. "Barth, send word to the High Septon. He is to appear before the throne by the end of the week or be declared a traitor to the crown. Prepare the throne room."

Barth bowed deeply. "Yes, Your Grace."

As the council members filed out of the room, Aemon lingered behind, his mind whirling.

His father had made a bold move—one that could change the balance of power between the crown and the Faith forever. It seemed whatever was spoken in the Preaching, had breached King's patience, he wondered what was said. As calling High Septon to come to King's Landing from Oldtown, to prove his innocence or rather faiths innocence.

It was the whole Faith of the Seven on the trail.

The prince glanced at Barth, who looked troubled, before leaving the chamber, already preparing for what was to come.

However, King Jaehaerys moving out of the council room, had his mind on the incident a few days ago. When all of this started.

….

..

15 Days Ago

King's Study, Red Keep

King Jaehaerys I Targaryen sat at his desk in the privacy of his study, a sea of parchment scattered before him. The soft glow of candles illuminated his face, casting flickering shadows on the walls. Despite the quiet around him, his mind was anything but calm.

His thoughts were consumed by the rebellion that had been plaguing King's Landing for the past ten days. It had started as a small spark—a few incidents of unrest in Flea Bottom—but had quickly grown into something far more dangerous. The city was tense, and the usual order that his reign had imposed seemed to be slipping through his fingers.

The king's hand hovered over an unfinished letter to the Lord of Storm's End, but his quill remained still. His mind wasn't on trade agreements or political alliances but on the chaos outside the Red Keep's walls.

Knights and the City Watch had been dispatched to quash the rebellion, but every effort to apprehend the instigators had been met with failure. The rebels were always one step ahead, seemingly aided by the very people they were supposed to protect. The streets were filled with sympathetic crowds, allowing the rebels to escape under the cover of civilian aid.

Jaehaerys rubbed his temples, feeling the weight of the situation bearing down on him. Trade in the city had begun to falter. Several shops had been burned, and though the physical damage wasn't extensive, the psychological effect on the people—and their support for the rebels—was alarming. Every day that passed without capturing the culprits was a day where the authority of the crown seemed weaker.

A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. Ser Ryam Redwyne, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, entered the room, his face grim. "Your Grace, I have spoken with the commanders of the City Watch. They report that despite their efforts, the rebels are slipping through their fingers. The common folk are helping them escape—hiding them, creating diversions, anything to protect them."

Jaehaerys sighed deeply. "And what of the Faith? Have there been any developments from the septons? Any hint of them fanning the flames of this unrest?"

Ryam shifted uncomfortably. "There are whispers, Your Grace. Some of our men who have attended the morning sermons say that septons have been growing… bold in their criticism. It seems whenever a knight or a man from the City Watch approaches, the sermons stop, and the people disperse. But when there are no eyes on them—"

The king narrowed his eyes. "What do they say, Ryam?"

The Kingsguard hesitated as if weighing his words carefully. "There are rumors, Your Grace. The septons speak against the royal family, and they question the doctrine of exceptionalism. They… speak of the royal bloodlines in ways that could incite rebellion."

Jaehaerys felt his pulse quicken. The Faith had been a problem before, but never this bold. He leaned forward, his eyes locking with Ryam's. "Send a few of our most trusted men into the city, dressed as civilians. Have them attend these sermons—every day, in every district. I want to know what's truly being said. No one else is to know of this."

Ryam nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. "It will be done, Your Grace."

<A Few Days Later>

The streets of King's Landing buzzed with the usual noise of city life. Yet, for Ser Harwin Tollett, one of the king's most trusted knights, there was something different in the air. He had spent the last few days walking among the people in plain clothes, blending in with the masses. His orders were clear: observe, listen, and report back anything suspicious. But so far, his search had yielded nothing.

That morning, he entered the usual crowd, a throng of common folk gathered in one of the smaller, less populated districts of the city. His worn cloak did little to distinguish him from the others, and his hand instinctively rested on the small dagger hidden beneath it.

He kept his ears open, listening to the idle chatter of the people. A septon from the Faith of the Seven had begun his sermon, standing atop a makeshift platform, his voice booming over the crowd.

At first, the words seemed innocuous—sermons on the importance of piety, faith, and virtue. But then, Harwin's ears pricked as the tone shifted, the septon's voice growing darker, more insidious.

"The royal family, who claim themselves dragons, have forgotten the ways of the Seven," the septon sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. "They commit sins in the eyes of the gods—sins of incest, of heresy, and they mock the very faith that should guide them! They are no better than their ancestors from the cursed Valyria, where their brother lies with his sister. Are these the rulers we should follow?"

Harwin's heart raced. He glanced around, but no one seemed shocked by the words. Instead, they nodded along, some whispering in agreement. The septon's voice grew louder.

"Prince Aemon, the heir to the Iron Throne—what future does he offer us? More incest? More sin? And his brother, Prince Baelon—consorting with a red witch, a heretic from Essos! Should we let such evil rule over us, when the gods themselves have given us the Seven to guide our lives?"

"Tell me, when have both princes last, if ever, come to pray to seven gods?"

"NEVER! NEVER!" people shouted.

Harwin's blood ran cold, but the worst was yet to come.

"Descendants of the cursed Valyria! Their incestuous unions are an abomination in the eyes of the Seven! Even their so-called 'Good Queen,' Alysanne—beloved by the common folk—what is she but a sinner? She is a whore who took her brother's cock to preserve the tainted blood of the dragon!"

Harwin' looked as the septon raised his hands, calling for the crowd to rise up. "Purge the heretics! Cleanse the land! Kill their dragons, slay their children, and rid Westeros of this blight!"

"KILL!! KILL!!"

Harwin stood frozen in disbelief. The crowd was enraptured, hanging on the septon's every word. The fire in their eyes terrified him more than the septon's venomous speech.

Quietly, without drawing attention to himself, Harwin slipped away, his heart pounding in his chest. He had to get this information back to the Red Keep—immediately.

**Jaehaerys Receives the Report**

King Jaehaerys sat in his study, a parchment clutched tightly in his hands. His eyes scanned the words again and again, disbelief and fury mingling in his heart. His fists clenched, the delicate parchment crumpling slightly under his grip. The knight's report was clear, detailed, and deeply disturbing.

The Faith was openly defying the crown. They weren't just criticizing his family—they were inciting violence. The talk of purging the Targaryens, of killing their dragons, was more than rebellion—it was treason of the highest order. But why? Why had the Faith, which had kept to its agreements since the rebellion of 48 AC, suddenly grown so bold, so drastic?

Jaehaerys leaned back in his chair, his mind whirling. Something had pushed the Faith to this extremity. But what? What had changed that had driven them to openly preach against the royal family, to call for their death?

The Faith had always been wary of the Targaryens' Valyrian traditions, but they had never gone this far before. Something had changed—something he had yet to uncover.

He stared at the parchment, the words blurring together as his thoughts churned. He would need to tread carefully—whatever this was, it was bigger than mere rebellion.

Slowly, he set the parchment down, his thoughts shifting from anger to cold calculation. He needed answers. And soon.

This was no longer a matter of simple rebellion. This was treason.

...

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