Storm's Aftermath Part : II

<Flashback continuing>

Kinvara hinted at the use of her magic. Baelon arched an eyebrow, thinking. He knew magic always came at a price, and from what he'd read, it was not to be trusted.

But desperate times called for desperate measures. He immediately decided, "Everyone return to your tents, we will move at sunrise." Sensing his intentions, the unnecessary spectators left his tent. Kinvara approached him. Only Baelon, Kinvara, the guards, and Caesar with the dagger still buried in his hand remained.

"And what would that cost me?" he asked. Kinvara merely smiled, sensing the prince's distrust of both magic and her intentions.

"Your assumption, although correct, is not always true, my prince. Using magic doesn't always cost losing or sacrificing something." She spoke as if teaching the basics of magic.

He replied, "Then what does?"

She answered, "Magic always works on an equitable exchange. The more you need, the greater the price to be paid." She educated everyone around her. The guards holding Caesar's chains grew uncomfortable, and Caesar himself was filled with dread and hatred. The Faith of the Seven was known for its hatred of magic. If he were to die at the hands of magic, it would be the most disgraceful death ever. But no one spoke as the discussion between the prince and the Red Lady continued.

"This means as long as the price is sufficient, you can do anything," he said. He knew there was more to it, but she replied with a smile, seeing how quickly the prince managed to catch on. "Nearly right, my prince, but most importantly, you must also have magic in your blood. There are not many in the known world who have that, and that change things." She spoke as if implying something significant.

His eyes widened slightly. He wanted to ask but knew this wasn't the appropriate time for a magic lesson.

His eyes widened slightly. He wanted to inquire further but knew now was not the time for a lesson in magic. He steered back to the pressing matter. "So, what will be the price for this?" he asked, eyeing Caesar.

Kinvara replied, "There is no need for you to pay, Prince Baelon, as I have already settled it. I vowed to aid House Targaryen in its time of 'grave' need."

A bead of sweat formed on Baelon's brow. He knew what this meant. House Targaryen stood on the precipice of disaster, its future hanging by a thread.

The Red Temple had only pledged support in House Targaryen's direst moments, and now, that moment had arrived.

He despised it. With all his foresight and wisdom from his past life, his choices had plunged them into this game of Death. But now was not the time to recoil from the blow. It was time to strike back.

For this moment, Deal with the Red Faith has started.

She meant, "settled it.… I vowed to aid House Targaryen in its time of 'grave' need."

"Well, I am grateful to Lady Kinvara. I am astounded by the brightness of your flames," he said, hinting at whether she had seen anything in the flames that might aid him.

"It's a mere candle in front of dragon fire," she replied, implying that he would be able to handle this crisis if he accepted her help.

"If Lady Kinvara has vowed her help is free, I would be a fool to refuse it," he assured her. "So, how will it be done, my lady?" he asked, a sadistic gleam in his eyes as he looked at Caesar, who regretted every life decision.

"We will do nothing, my prince. The flames of R'hllor will show us what we need," she said calmly, not enjoying Caesar's suffering. To her, he was just a lost man following false gods.

"So, should I ask my men to prepare a pyre?" Baelon asked, recalling how the Red Priests liked to perform their rituals.

"Hmm. That would be more... fruitful," Kinvara said, raising an eyebrow at the prince's cruel yet casual remark, growing increasingly fond of him.

"Tha-That would be very harsh, my prince," William said, keeping his gaze down, sweating and shocked at the royal prince's words.

William and his men exchanged nervous glances, bewildered by the suggestion to burn someone alive by Prince Baelon, who was known in the realm for his kindness and bravery, especially among the common folk.

Having served under him for nearly a year, they had all grown to admire the young prince for his character and humble nature. He knew how to rally people behind him, many loyal enough to die for him. He was a natural-born leader at such a young age. William could only imagine what the little prince would do when he became an adult.

"While I, William, may extend generosity and humility to my loyal men, I shall show no mercy to traitors. Fire and Blood, remember." With these words, William immediately knew that the young prince was not someone to cower away from making tough decisions.

Fiercely protective of his family, he would be a force to reckon with for anyone foolish enough to make an enemy of the Targaryens. He might be feared more than his elder brother, the Golden Prince, who was known to be better than Prince Baelon in almost everything.

This new generation would lead the realm to unprecedented heights or ruin.

"William, tell some men to prepare a pyre in the deep woods to muffle the noise. No need to inform everyone. Tell them to keep it a secret. And silence this traitor," Baelon ordered, looking down at the cursing and shouting Caesar, who was dreading his last living moments.

Burning alive was not a fate anyone would wish for.

…

<Two Days Before the Trial>

69 AC

King's Study

Red Keep, King's Landing 

The hour was late, and the Red Keep was shrouded in the flickering glow of candlelight.

King Jaehaerys Targaryen sat alone in his study, his face etched with concern. He was poring over several parchments, all concerning the trial that loomed just two days away.

Documents and reports lay scattered across his desk, detailing the recent unrest and actions of the Faith of the Seven. Among the pile was a letter from the commander of the Gold Cloaks, warning of increased tension in Flea Bottom, and another from the small council discussing measures to strengthen the defenses of King's Landing. The king sighed, feeling the weight of his crown more than ever. 

A sudden knock at the door broke his concentration. 

"Enter," he called. 

The door creaked open, and one of his Kingsguards stepped forward, his white cloak gleaming in the dim light. 

"Your Grace, Grand Maester Elysar is here. He says it's urgent," the Kingsguard announced. 

King Jaehaerys furrowed his brow and nodded. "Send him in." 

The Grand Maester entered, clutching a letter sealed with the crest of House Targaryen. His steps were heavy, and his face bore the weariness of a man burdened by troubling news. 

"Your Grace," Elysar began, bowing deeply. "A rider from Prince Baelon's party arrived not long ago. He rode day and night, bearing this letter. The rider said it is urgent and for your eyes only." 

Jaehaerys raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the unusual nature of the message. It had been ten moons since Baelon had left home, although few letters were exchanged nothing extraordinary aside from reports of roads etc. While the king was accustomed to his second son's independence, the long silence had begun to weigh on him. 

"Hand it to me," the king said. 

Elysar passed the letter to Jaehaerys, but he did not leave the room. The king noted his lingering presence, but he chose not to comment on it—yet. 

Breaking the seal, Jaehaerys unrolled the parchment, surprisingly it was in High Valyrian and began to read. 

The letter opened with a greeting in Baelon's familiar tone, warm and casual. It mentioned the prince's affection for his mother, Queen Alysanne, and his siblings, but soon the tone grew formal, the weight of the message becoming clear.

"I trust, Father, that you are alone as you read this. The contents of this letter are for the family's eyes only. You may wish to have Mother and Aemon with you when you continue." 

Jaehaerys frowned. What could Baelon possibly need to share that was so sensitive? Nevertheless, he set the letter aside for a moment and looked up at the Grand Maester. 

"Go rest for the night, Elysar, we have a few big days coming." he commanded, his tone clipped. "and also send for the queen and the crown prince." 

With a deep bow, Elysar left the room, his heavy steps echoing in the quiet hall outside. Jaehaerys wasted no time. He picked up the letter again, eager to uncover what his son had to say. 

"I have something of great importance to share," the letter continued, "and it concerns the future survival of our house." 

The king's fingers tightened around the parchment. The survival of House Targaryen? The thought seemed absurd to him. The house of the dragon had never been more powerful, with its growing number of family members and dragons. What could threaten them? Maybe Dornish? Or increasing tension across the Narrow Sea?

Baelon's next words, however, chilled him to the bone. 

"I have made a deal with the High Priest of the Red Temple in Volantis." 

Jaehaerys clenched his jaw, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the letter. His second son, dealing with magic and foreign gods? It felt like a height of stupidity.

He knew, as all Targaryens did, that magic came with a price. Nothing in this world was freely given, especially not the favors of gods.

The letter continued, "And yes, it is one of the reasons behind the Faith's actions and the rebellion stirring in the capital." 

The king felt the stirrings of a headache. Baelon's paranoia and overprotectiveness of family was well known to him, but this? Making deals with foreign magic users while tensions with the Faith of the Seven escalated? It seemed reckless, and Jaehaerys felt a surge of anger rising within him. He nearly crumpled the parchment, but a warning in the next line stayed his hand. 

"Now, before you rip this letter to shreds and ride Vermithor to punish me, please know that this was not an impulsive decision. It was necessary to face our enemies." 

Enemies? Jaehaerys paused, the fire of his anger dimming for a moment as curiosity took hold. What enemies?

The letter pressed on. "Everyone, Father. Everyone who is not of our blood is our enemy. For context, I have just survived an attack by 500 men bearing the seven-pointed star." 

Jaehaerys' eyes widened in shock. His first instinct was to leap from his chair, mount Vermithor, and fly to his son's side. Baelon had only 200 men with him, and if the Faith was willing to send such an army against a Targaryen prince, this was more than just rebellion—it was war. 

The king's hands trembled as he read further, his mind racing. Burn the septs of Oldtown to the ground, he thought. How could he have been so foolish as to believe the Faith would not retaliate after he summoned the High Septon for trial? He should have sent more men with Baelon. He should have— 

"Worry not, Father. I am safe. The attack failed, thanks to information I received from a tortured traitor in my party." 

Jaehaerys exhaled deeply, relief flooding through him. But the relief was short-lived, as Baelon's words took a darker turn. 

"For the Faith to attack me so openly means they are no longer afraid of the crown. They have a plan, and we must assume it is to strike at us all. They have smuggled 1,500 Faith Militants into King's Landing, disguised as common folk. They plan to attack the Red Keep, and they intend to kill every last one of us. Even little Dealla and Saera." 

Jaehaerys felt as though the ground had fallen away beneath him. His body broke into a cold sweat, his face ashen as he imagined the slaughter of his family. The thought of his daughters, innocent and unaware of the danger, made his stomach churn. 

"These words… they are true," Jaehaerys whispered to himself, his heart pounding. It felt like a prophecy. 

"Then they planned to argue and undermine the trial validity by claiming they didn't can't control every septon and deny high septon's involvement on account of lack of direct evidence in him."

"You may wonder how I know all this. It was the Red Priestess Kinvara who accompanied me. A few sacrifices were made, and I saw these events in the flames." 

The king stopped reading. His mind was spinning, his thoughts a whirlwind of horror and disbelief.

He had always dismissed the mystical as something dangerous, something that came with too great a cost. But now, reading his son's letter, he felt a deep, instinctual knowledge take hold—what Baelon had seen was true.

Jaehaerys knew these were true, maybe it was the magic in his blood, the power of Targaryen dragon dreams, or simply his gut feeling. He felt his whole world crumbling, to think he was 1 day and 2 nights away from losing everything; his family, his kingdom. He knew they would have survived this attack, but not without great losses.

Jaehaerys' hands trembled as he reached the final lines of Baelon's letter. His son's words echoed in his mind, stirring the simmering fury within him.

"Now that we know the future, we have a great advantage. I hope you will not be merciful to our enemies, Father. I demand vengeance. I trust you will do the same. The world has forgotten the terror and cruelty of Old Valyria. Our ancestors would curse us if we let them go unscathed."

The words struck a chord deep within the king. Rage burned hot in his chest, and he felt his blood boiling like Dragonfire. His eyes were red with fury, his hands shaking with the weight of his son's demand. But amidst the fire, Jaehaerys' mind remained sharp.

He knew the truth of their situation—this was no ordinary enemy. They weren't fighting a man or an army; they were fighting faith. The Faith of the Seven is rooted in the hearts of countless men and women across the realm. South of the Neck, the Faith was more than a belief—it was life itself.

You can kill a person, burn a city, but you cannot kill a belief, he thought grimly. To wipe out the Faith, he would need to burn the entire South to ashes. And then what? Rule over a kingdom of corpses and ruin?

But then, a new thought surfaced. "Perhaps I could."

He stared into the flickering candlelight. He could imagine it— the Seven's star reduced to nothing but dust under dragonflame.

Yet, as tempting as the thought was, it wasn't sustainable. The Faith was too ingrained, and the nobles who supported it were too many. Instead, a different plan began to form in his mind.

"But we can defeat it. Reduce its power to a bare minimum."

His eyes sharpened as he thought through the possibilities. He read further in the letter.

"I know just how to use this, Father. Crown will withdraw its support of Seven. The royal family will go back to worship our Valyria gods. We will declare the Seven Kingdoms as secular, where anyone can worship any religion. And bring a new competitor into the market in Red Faith, who has taken a holy oath to never harm a Targaryen and then let the lamp survive in the jungle. Let the two faiths tear each other apart."

It was ruthless, and a part of him recoiled at the sheer audacity of it. But Baelon's deal with the Red Temple had handed them a unique opportunity.

And the boy was right—House Targaryen needed to remind the realm of the cruelty of their ancestors when threatened.

Yet, as his will solidified, Jaehaerys' thoughts returned to the noble houses.

He knew they wouldn't stand idly by while the crown dismantled the Faith of the Seven. The lords of the realm would unite against them, even those who had long supported the Targaryens. The Faith had too much influence in their courts and halls.

"But if they want the Faith to survive," Jaehaerys thought darkly, "they will have to pay for it."

He smiled grimly. House Targaryen would not let this opportunity slip through their fingers. Let the lords scramble to save the Faith; it would only make them more dependent on the crown. And more vulnerable.

The letter from Baelon continued:

"I trust you've thought of all this, Father. These are merely suggestions to benefit our house. But don't forget Lord Hightower and the Citadel—they aren't innocent in this either. I also suggest sending the little ones away from the capital. Perhaps a vacation to Harrenhal. Aunt Rhaena would be thrilled to have them, and Dreamfyre would ensure their safety."

Jaehaerys frowned at the mention of Rhaena. His elder sister had been distant and withdrawn ever since the tragic events at Dragonstone. But Baelon was right—she would welcome the company of the children. Dreamfyre would protect them, and Harrenhal was far from the dangers brewing in the capital.

The letter ended with a final farewell and Baelon's promise to return by the time of the trial.

Just as Jaehaerys finished reading, the door to his study opened. Queen Alysanne entered, her soft footsteps echoing in the silent room, followed by their eldest son, Aemon. Alysanne's sharp eyes immediately noticed the state of her husband—his labored breathing, the sweat on his brow, and the parchment in his hand. Concern overtook her face.

"What's wrong, husband?" she asked, rushing to his side and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Her voice was laced with worry.

Aemon stood behind her, his posture stiff, sensing something was wrong. But Jaehaerys said nothing. He simply laid the parchment down on the table and motioned for them to read it.

The room fell silent as Alysanne and Aemon's eyes scanned the letter. Jaehaerys watched them carefully, seeing the same emotions wash over them that he had felt. Alysanne's eyes welled up with tears, her voice barely a whisper.

"My sweet Baelon," she said, fear gripping her heart as she worried for her son's safety.

Aemon, on the other hand, was overcome with anger. His fists clenched at his sides, his face contorted in rage as he thought of his brother nearly being killed. Guilt gnawed at him—he should have been there to protect Baelon. He looked to his father, his voice low but burning with fury.

"What will we do, Father?" Aemon asked in High Valyrian, his eyes blazing.

Jaehaerys' gaze was cold, resolute. He met his son's eyes. "We will do as Baelon said. There will be no mercy."

Alysanne stood beside him, still staring at the parchment in her hands, her mind racing. Jaehaerys turned to her, his tone firm but calm. "My love, select a few trusted men from Dragonstone, along with the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Smuggle the children to Harrenhal. They will reach the God's Eye in a day, and they will be safe with Rhaena."

Alysanne nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. She would not risk the lives of her children.

Jaehaerys then turned to Aemon. His voice was steady, filled with the weight of his decision. "And you, Aemon…" His eyes locked with his heir's, fierce with determination.

"Go get yourself a dragon."

...

..