Chapter 20

The royal cortege slowly advanced through the main gates of Duskendale. The clatter of hooves and the creaking of wheels echoed dully through the streets, hushed by sudden and anxious anticipation. People stopped, holding their breath, and, forgetting their business, watched as the royal banners bearing the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen fluttered against the dark sky. A tension hung in the air, as if the very ground felt the approaching storm.

Denys Darklyn, Lord of Duskendale, stood at the foot of the wide staircase leading to the castle gates. His black and gold cloak billowed in the wind, and his dark eyes carefully studied the knights approaching him. His entire figure radiated hidden anxiety. Nearby were his close companions and members of his personal guard, who involuntarily touched the hilts of their swords.

From the carriage emerged Aerys Targaryen. The red and black mantle wrapped around his frail figure, and a bright fire of madness and disdain burned in his deep-set eyes. Two guards immediately approached him to escort him to the lord; one of them was Gwayne Gaunt, who cautiously scanned the surroundings. The king looked rather tired, but a harsh sneer still flickered in his gaze.

"Lord Denys," Aerys said coldly, stopping before the castle's host. His voice echoed through the courtyard with barely suppressed irritation. "I trust your house will be as hospitable as it was in the past."

Denys bowed slowly, keeping his hand over his heart. "Your Grace, Duskendale has always been loyal to the crown. I personally guarantee the highest level of hospitality." Upon hearing this, a crooked grin involuntarily appeared on the king's face.

"Oh, I believe you will personally do everything to serve me, Lord Denys," Aerys replied with a sarcastic hint. "But better tell me, what rumors have reached me about discontent in your lands?"

Denys froze for a moment but quickly regained his composure. "Your Grace, the people of Duskendale know the price of loyalty," he replied. "But these are difficult times, and since our last meeting in Highgarden, nothing has changed…"

Aerys squinted and scrutinized his interlocutor. "So you decided to take matters into your own hands? By raising a rebellion against me?"

Darklyn remained unfazed, though he felt the tension within. His voice was calm, despite the clear threat in the king's words. "No, Your Grace, I would never break my oaths. I am only trying to maintain order and stability in my lands."

Aerys stepped closer with a sneer. "Interesting. How do you plan to do that, Lord Denys?"

Denys raised his eyes to meet the king's cold, piercing gaze. "There is always discontent, Your Grace. But I assure you, all your enemies are my enemies. My house will do everything possible to ensure there is no uprising in Duskendale."

The Targaryen paused for a moment, clearly assessing the sincerity of the lord's words. "Very well. I hope you keep your promises, Lord Darklyn. Otherwise, the consequences will be most unpleasant."

"I will do everything possible to earn your trust, Your Grace."

Aerys nodded and, turning, headed toward the staircase leading to the main hall. Gwayne Gaunt and the other guards followed him, leaving Denys standing still, trying to maintain outward calm, though a storm of contradictions raged inside him. When the king and his retinue entered the castle, the gates slammed shut behind them, as if cutting Duskendale off from the rest of the world. Not long ago, Lord Darklyn was convinced that capturing the king would improve his situation, but after talking with his men and seeing their loyalty and unwavering trust in him, the often straightforward and audacious lord decided to try one last time to talk to the king and settle everything peacefully.

Soon, everything in the castle of Duskendale was ready to receive the most important guest. The great hall was decorated according to tradition, candles burned, and the air was filled with the aroma of dishes. When King Aerys and his retinue entered the hall, they were greeted with cheers and ceremonies.

Aerys, weary and irritable, took a seat at the head table next to Lord Denys Darklyn and his wife. During the dinner, the conversation between Aerys and Denys was full of tension. Darklyn, trying to maintain outward calm, repeatedly raised the topic of possible concessions and improving Duskendale's standing.

"Your Grace," began Denys, "we understand that obtaining Dorne's privileges in our position is impossible, but perhaps you might consider reducing the taxes for the city? In return, we are prepared to offer everything in our power to support the crown."

Aerys laughed loudly and leaned back in his chair. "Tax reduction, you say? It seems to me that my very presence in this place is more than you deserve." After that, the king emptied another goblet of wine, while the faces of those present darkened with hidden tension.

Darklyn tried to remain calm, but his irritation was growing inside. "Your Grace, I am merely asking for fairness. Duskendale was once a great city; we have served House Targaryen for many years and deserve respect."

At that moment, Aerys turned to Denys's wife, whose exotic beauty immediately caught his attention. "My dear, you are not from here, are you?" he asked with a grim smirk. "You must be tired of your husband's constant presence. Perhaps we should liven up this rather dull evening?"

Lady Serala's face paled, and she averted her gaze, seeking her husband's support. For Darklyn, this was too much. Denys jumped up from the table, unable to restrain himself any longer. "Aerys, your behavior is unacceptable! Do not dare speak to my wife like that!"

The king, however, sneered. "Ah, see how quickly your patience runs out. Perhaps it's due to a lack of loyalty?"

Chaos erupted in the hall. Denys, unable to endure the Targaryen's insolence, lunged at him, and that became the signal to act. The servants and guests, stunned by what was happening, began to panic, torn between attempts to leave the premises and find shelter.

Gwayne Gaunt and the other members of the king's retinue quickly gathered. Taking defensive positions, they pushed toward Aerys. Each of them was prepared to defend the king at any cost. Darklyn's knights, initially ready for such a scenario, quickly revealed hidden chainmail under their clothes and grabbed their weapons. The cramped, hostile environment of the hall became a battleground for a bloody fight.

Gaunt bravely deflected the enemies' blows despite their numerical superiority. He fought fiercely, decapitating enemies with his agility and strength. The White Cloak's movements were precise and deadly, but even Gwayne's heroism could not turn the tide of the battle. Soon, a wave of knights overwhelmed him, and in the heat of the fight, his left shoulder was deeply cut.

The captain of Duskendale's guard, Hubert, wasted no time and quickly became a leading figure in the battle. His massive figure and great strength stood out among the rest. With a few powerful blows, he cut down many of Aerys's defenders, and after seeing Gaunt's wound, he moved toward him.

Locked in a deadly duel, the two knights tried to force their opponent into a mistake. Hubert delivered blows with his massive sword with astonishing speed. Gaunt, on the verge of exhaustion, tried to resist, but his wounds and fatigue took their toll. Hubert knocked the sword from his hands and, with a swift thrust, pierced the chest of the royal guardsman.

The hall was a battlefield: steel clanged, and the floor was littered with dead bodies and blood. But all this no longer mattered—Gaunt's death symbolized the ultimate defeat of the royal retinue. In the end, after a swift but fierce fight, Aerys was taken into custody, leaving Denys Darklyn and his men with only fierce rage and a slight regret for the spilled blood.

POV: Rhaegar

Rhaegar Targaryen sat in his study in the Red Keep, deep in thought about a recent conversation with his friend Jon Connington. They had discussed at length how to stabilize the realm while his mad father sat on the throne. The prince's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a door opening. Varys entered the room. The face of the master of whispers, usually impassive, reflected concern.

"Your Highness," Varys began, "I bring news from Duskendale."

Rhaegar turned and asked calmly, "What has happened?"

"The king, Aerys, arrived in Duskendale and soon entered into conflict with Lord Denys Darklyn, which led to violence. Lord Darklyn likely could not contain himself after the king's insults, and the conflict escalated into an open confrontation."

Rhaegar felt his heart begin to race. Of course, he had long pondered and planned how to overthrow Aerys from the throne, but hearing such news, he felt an unexpected pang of anxiety. His chest tightened painfully.

"How could this happen?! We, of course, discussed the complexity of relations with Duskendale, but we did not expect such an outcome…"

"Yes, the consequences seem truly dire," Varys continued. "King Aerys and his retinue faced the cruelty and ruthlessness of Lord Darklyn. The entire royal guard was killed, including Gwayne Gaunt."

Rhaegar closed his eyes, trying to calm himself. The conversation with Tywin was still fresh in his memory. Lannister had been concerned with how to use the situation with Duskendale to his advantage. Now, this event could lead to complications in all their plans. It also served as another reminder to the young prince of the fragility of power and how easily the flames of rebellion could ignite.

"Lord Tywin is summoning the banners of the Westerlands, while in..."

"I'll take Balerion and fly to the walls of Duskendale. Let's see what those traitors will say in the face of a true dragon!"

"Your Highness, I would advise you not to act so rashly. For if your actions even indirectly lead to the death of the king, I fear another war will begin—and a far bloodier one."

After a long silence, Rhaegar finally replied, "I need to speak with the Hand."

"Of course, my prince."