Chapter 18

Aeryon sat on a beautiful oak bench in the midst of one of Highgarden's gardens. Flowers were blooming around him, filling the air with their fragrances, and the soft rays of the sun, filtering through the tree leaves, played across his tense face. Nearby stood Ralf Buckler, his sly friend and advisor, listening intently to the prince's words. The eyes of the young men showed determination, but also hidden anxiety.

"Denys Darklyn agrees with our plan," Aeryon began, slowly drumming his fingers on the wooden bench. "He is willing to support our scheme if we guarantee his safety."

Ralf nodded, his gaze becoming more focused.

"And how does he want us to do that?"

"A letter…" Targaryen said, and, receiving a questioning look from his friend, continued: "He wants a letter from me outlining part of the plan. If we intend to betray him…"

"He'll show the paper to the king," Ralf finished the thought, frowning.

"Exactly."

"And what do you plan to do?" Ralf's voice carried a note of doubt.

"Take the risk," the prince replied, narrowing his eyes. "I've thought long and hard about the situation and realized that there won't be another chance like this. No one but this fool will agree to such an adventure."

"Are you sure? It seems to me the game is becoming too dangerous. If he shows that letter to someone, and…"

"I know," Aeryon interrupted, smiling. "That's why, before the 'heroic' rescue of the king, I'll need to visit Denys's quarters and speak with him. But we'll need more people than I initially planned."

"Well, Qwelton is a good knight. I can also join you. I'm not strong with a sword, but I'm accurate with a bow. We could also take Bran."

"Who is that?" Aeryon asked, raising an eyebrow.

"A loyal servant. He helped me with Martell," Ralf explained.

"I see… good. But it's still not enough. We need someone experienced. Tomorrow I'll tell Oswell that I'm going to Solarex; he'll accompany me. You and Fell will join us on the road."

"Aeryon, just because Whent gave you the victory in the tournament doesn't mean he's ready to betray his oaths."

"Tomorrow we'll find out. In any case, it's time for him to make a final decision."

And so, our conversation with Ralf came to an end.

The next day, as promised, Aeryon decided to visit his dragon. Taking with him the royal guard Oswell Whent and two friends, he headed towards Solarex. It seemed like an ordinary task, but no one could have imagined the conversations that would arise during the journey. Whent, as always, was calm and composed, carefully observing the surrounding nature as if searching for threats.

"Oswell," the prince began, bringing his horse closer to him, "I need to talk to you."

The knight slowly turned his head and nodded. His usually calm gray eyes briefly flashed with interest.

"Is something bothering you, my prince?" he responded with a question, slightly tilting his head.

"Last night, I thought a lot about the tournament," Targaryen began, as if in passing. "Specifically, about your actions. You could have won, but you chose to act differently. Why?"

"Fortune is always capricious, Your Highness," the royal guard replied calmly, his face betraying no emotion. "Today you win, tomorrow you lose. I am simply glad for your triumph."

Aeryon smiled slightly. He knew this man was not as simple as he seemed.

"Well, let's set aside the victory and talk about something else, my friend," Aeryon said slowly, stretching the words. "For example… to whom does your loyalty belong?"

"An interesting question. Do you speak as though loyalty is something mutable?"

"Not always. But sometimes oaths can be interpreted in different ways, especially when it comes to the well-being of the realm, the royal family, and… choosing the right side."

Oswell remained silent, studying the prince's face. Aeryon saw that his words had struck a chord — behind the mask of indifference was something quite different.

"And what do you propose, Your Highness?" Whent finally asked.

"Time will tell. Let's just say, right now I want to understand how far you are willing to go for our common goal. Which may require courage, resolve, and… flexibility in decision-making. If you're ready, my friend, I would like to see you among those I can rely on."

The knight smiled slightly, but there was no hint of mockery in his eyes.

"Prince, don't try too hard. I can certainly discern your game," he replied calmly. "I knew who you were becoming back in Storm's End. I saw how you were growing, what you were aiming for, and what you secretly desired. Perhaps I even saw in you something that I myself lack."

Aeryon tilted his head slightly, looking at Whent with some confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"I have no children, Aeryon," Oswell continued, turning his gaze to the horizon. "Never have, only nephews. And service in the Royal Guard doesn't foster such desires. And while I won't lie that you've become like a son to me, you are certainly a substitute for an unrealized dream of an heir. I am ready to pledge myself to you personally, my prince."

This was somewhat unexpected, and Aeryon fell silent for a moment, contemplating what he had heard. He understood that Whent was not someone who would throw words around lightly. At that moment, the royal guard dismounted his horse, knelt, drew his sword, and held it with both hands before the prince. Fell and Buckler, riding behind, tried to react to the guard's sudden movement but soon froze, realizing what was happening.

"It means a lot, Oswell," Aeryon said, dismounting his horse, his voice serious. "Perhaps more than you think. Be ready, we have much to discuss and even more to do in the near future."

Oswell nodded, and understanding flashed in his eyes. The young dragon felt that he had gained not just an ally but a devoted comrade.

Pov Denys Darklyn

Denys Darklyn, weary from the long journey, entered his ancestral castle of Duskendale. The sturdy stone walls and heavy wooden doors greeted him like old friends. He felt the coolness of the corridors, which was soothing, but his thoughts remained troubled. The tournament in Highgarden had not brought the results he had initially hoped for, and now he was forced to act with greater decisiveness.

In the great hall of the castle, his most loyal people were gathered: Hubert, the captain of the guard and childhood friend; Leyza, the steward and his wife's sister; and a few other devoted vassals. They waited for him in tense silence, sensing that their lord was about to share something important. Lady Serala, his wife, sat aside, stroking the golden chain around her neck, nervously squinting at the candles. She knew Denys better than anyone, and when he cast a glance at her, she immediately understood: something had gone wrong.

"My lord, what will you say?" Hubert was the first to speak, rising from his seat. "How did it go in Highgarden? Any news?"

Denys approached the table, where a jug of wine already stood. Pouring himself a cup, he took a sip and closed his eyes for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts.

"Things in Highgarden didn't go as I had hoped," he began. And though his voice was calm, there was an underlying nervousness. "But that doesn't mean we'll back down. There are other, more… direct ways."

Everyone fell silent, waiting for more. Serala raised an eyebrow slightly but said nothing.

"I have thought long and hard," Denys continued, walking around the table and looking each person in the eye, "about what we need to do to restore Duskendale's former glory and influence. The crown forgets about us, preferring to line its own pockets with gold, and that must change."

"We've talked about this already, my lord," Leyza spoke up, shifting her gaze from Denys to Serala. "But how can we make the king pay attention to us without provoking his wrath?"

Denys smiled, and a glint of steel appeared in his eyes.

"The king's wrath is exactly what we need."

Everyone froze in confusion. Hubert, his loyal friend, squinted, not taking his eyes off the lord. "You want to anger him?"

"Precisely, Hubert," Denys nodded. "My plan is to provoke King Aerys into making a visit here. And when he arrives, we'll take him into custody."

The hall was filled with dead silence. Serala stood up abruptly; her face paled.

"This is madness, Denys," she said, looking straight at him. "Capturing the king is a challenge to all of Westeros! What do you hope to gain from this?"

Denys slowly approached his wife and touched her hand.

"I don't intend to kill him, dear," Denys said softly but with confidence. "I plan to control him. We will show that Duskendale is a force to be reckoned with. There's nothing good waiting for us in the king's shadow. We need to create our own rules, where decisions are made not in King's Landing, but here, in our House."

Hubert glanced at Denys with doubt but then nodded. "It's a risky move, my lord. How do you plan to accomplish it? The king won't come here just like that."

"We'll start spreading rumors that I plan to change my allegiance and support another claimant to the throne. This will stir his suspicions and force him to act. He trusts no one, especially not his Hand or heir. Aerys will want to find out the truth, and we will offer him hospitality. Once he's here, there will be no turning back."

"And what if his people realize something is amiss?" Leyza asked. "They will be with him."

"The king is always accompanied by a small retinue," Denys replied confidently. "But here, in Duskendale, our warriors outnumber them ten to one. Once Aerys enters our walls, everything will be decided."

Serala looked at her husband with concern. "And then what, Denys? What do you plan to do once the king is in custody?"

"We will dictate the terms," Denys answered. "I will make him sign a decree recognizing the independence of Duskendale and our right to muster our own troops, trade freely, and live without interference. And if necessary, we might demand his younger son as a ward."

Hubert and the others exchanged glances, trying to grasp the lord's plan. Their faces showed a mix of fear and determination.

"It's bold, my friend," Hubert finally said. "But I understand that this is our chance to reclaim former power. We are all ready to follow you."

Denys nodded gratefully and surveyed everyone present. "Excellent. Then prepare yourselves. We have a hard task ahead, but the reward will be worth it. Duskendale will once again be a place where the fate of Westeros is decided."