Chapter 4-A Spider's Last Crawl!

Chapter 4

A small group of people moved through the streets of Volantis. The streets of the First Daughter of Valyria were filled with slaves. Each of them wore chains around their necks, and their cheeks were marked to show their trade.

The small retinue rode top a palanquin mounted on an elephant, for the people of the city found it beneath them to walk on foot. The city's air was hot and humid, carrying in it the smells of the world, for the city was a cesspool of cultures where merchants and captains of the world gathered to trade their wares.

Inside the palanquin sat the red woman, seemingly calm and composed, yet her heart was a mess as she looked on at her God's chosen. The Prince Daemon sat opposite her, a cloak wrapped around him despite the heat, as he looked at the city around him distastefully.

His face was covered by the cloak, yet even then, she could glance at his face, which had scarred badly with the new skin growing haphazardly, making him unrecognizable.

She glanced out the window as their elephant came to a halt, on the outskirts of a massive building that was made out of fused stone, consisting of hundreds of towers, bridges, and buttresses that fused into one another.

"We are here," she announced as she got out of the palanquin as an elephant lowered itself to the ground, and wooden stairs were placed for her to come down. Rows of Red Priests stood in two columns; at there stood a man she recognized quite well.

His face, white as porcelain, marred only two flame tattoos on his cheeks. His head was shaven, and his stature was much taller and grander than all those around him.

"Do you have any idea what you have done, Melisandre?" he questioned as he glanced at her. She gulped down and didn't back down, but she replied resolutely.

"I have brought us the R'hllor's champion," she announced, and the High Priest of the Red Temple frowned as the Prince walked out of the palanquin, covered in a cloak.

She pointed towards him and spoke up.

"Besides me stands the one chosen by our God. Azor Azhai, the promised Prince, blessed by the Fire itself," she announced and saw Bennero's eyes tighten at the Prince.

"What makes you sure he is the one?" he questioned.

"I saw him walk out of a fire so hot that it would melt steel itself. He is the one," she announced.

"Yet he is scarred. The Fire did burn him," Bennero challenged, and she nodded.

"It did, yet only so he could be brought here to the Eternal Flame," she announced.

"You cannot mean!" Bennero gasped, as did someone standing around him, and she nodded.

"I do!" the High Priest then turned to face the Prince, his eyes narrow as he spoke up.

"Then so be it! Take him to the Eternal Flame!" then, before the Prince could react, he was surrounded by the Red Priest, who took him by the arms and then began to lead him to the Red Temple.

"Where are you taking me?" he questioned, and the reply came.

"To see if you truly are the Red God's champion!"

0000

DAEMON TARGARYEN

Never had a swing of his sword felt so satisfying than the one with which he slew his own father. A taboo, an act so heinous that he knew the history books would condemn him for it. They would have to condemn him for a lot though.

Yet the histories would come later, for now, he had to secure his rule against the rebelling forces that were at their throats. Tywin Lannister rode with his men, to betray Aerys and the Targaryen regime to endear himself to Robert Baratheon.

Eddard Stark rode from the North, as well, inching closer and closer to the seat of Targaryen's power to secure the throne for himself so he could then rescue his sister.

He had acted, though, commanding Ser Alyn Velaryon to summon back the forces sent to Dragonstone and reassemble Rhaegar's scattered host, but that would take time. Time was important enough for him to prepare himself for what was to come.

And so, he found himself in his father's solar, empty and filled with dust, yet he was not alone, for opposite to him sat the woman he had once called a friend, a woman who had crowned him, the very woman whose sons birthright he had stolen from him.

Elia Martell had changed a lot from when he had last seen her. Her face now had hints of wrinkles, and one could see the effects the two births had taken on her, yet even if her appearance had changed, her piercing eyes remained unchanged as she glanced at him from across the table, a frown marring her features.

"How?" she eeked out, breaking the hanging silence, and he didn't know how to answer that.

"I don't know," he replied.

"But when I fell into the pain, it was excruciating. I felt my skin peel off, I felt my whole body burn, and in those few seconds, I felt pain the kinds of which would break my mind, and when the darkness came over me, I felt relieved for the pain would end, for I would end," he said his voice muffled by the mask he wore over his face now, his words spoken slowly and cautiously not to tear his throat.

"Yet death didn't come for me, and a day later I felt myself wake up, in pain excruciating enough to wish death, burnt skin covering my whole body, yet alive and breathing, barely but alive nonetheless," he finished and saw her eyes scan his body.

"Why didn't you come back?" she questioned, and he wished he could tell her about everything.

"I was taken away from the capital by a beneficiary," and the world couldn't really do justice to the relationship between him and Melisandre. He thought no word could, for a part of him hated the woman for what she had done, yet as he sat here in the place where he was born, his revenge complete, he owed it to her, as his eyes narrowed onto the red ruby embedded in the hilt of his sword.

"I couldn't breathe for days, let alone speak. The healed flesh had grown without form joining my fingers and lips," he barked out in rage as he recalled those times. He slid off the glove from his hand and watched as Elia's eyes widened, and her face turned ashen as she saw the state of it.

"I had to take a knife and cut through my own flesh just so I could breathe again, hold things again," he uttered and saw her evade her gaze as she visibly seemed disgusted and seemed to be putting in effort to keep her stomach from turning out.

He put on the glove again as he leaned back, giving her time to compose herself as she took a sip of water and glanced at him with a much softer look.

"A part of me prayed for death, prayed for it to any God who would listen. Yet I knew I couldn't give up, so I persisted through it all, fought through it all, and now I am here," he finished as his fists balled up, the skin tearing up, as he clenched them too hard before he took a deep breath and calmed himself.

"Now, I believe we have more important matters to discuss," he sifted the conversation and saw her nod, yet he could tell that she was still curious about his life, yet that would come later.

"I crowned you for I knew that only you could secure the future of the Targaryen family, but still I must ask?" she began and he could tell that she was forcing herself to be brave as she continued.

"What will become of me?" and he realized what she was trying to ask.

"You will be afforded a life worthy of your title of a Princess and so will your children. Your son shall be my heir for the time being and maybe in the future as well. You and your children shall lead a happy and fulfilling life. When the time comes, they will be awarded titles and rewards as per their stations. You need not worry for them," he assured her and saw her eyes soften at those words, and the tension left her shoulders as she lowered her head.

"Thank you for this," she replied and he gave her a small nod.

He could understand her apprehension given what she had just seen in the throne room, yet he was still Daemon Targaryen, and he didn't harm children.

"And what of Queen Rhaella and your brother, Viserys," and he saw her hesitate as she continued.

"The Queen took your death quite hard and has never been the same, she even tried to kill herself a number of times. And Viserys, the King, was quick to take him under his wing, he is…," and he raised his hand, cutting her off.

"You needn't say farther, I understand. But they shall remain on Dragonstone for some time, at least until I have had things sorted out here. The island is safer, and as for Viserys, he is still young and could change for the better," and at that, he looked up.

"I could arrange ships for you and your children as well if you wish," and she shook her head, surprising him.

"There is no need of them now," she replied, and he frowned as her lips turned up.

"I believe in you," she declared, surprising even him, for even he wasn't so sure of his won victory, unlike her.

Yet he nodded, for he didn't plan on losing.

"What will you do now?" she questioned, and he leaned back as he replied.

"Letters are being written as we speak to declare my return and ascension to the throne. The ravens will begin flying soon, though the missives will need your seal as well to confirm Aegon's cession of the heirship and to confirm my identity," he began, and she nodded.

"And what of Lord Lannister? He rides to the city with twenty-five thousand men. Will you let him enter the city?" and he scoffed as he shook his head.

"Never, I believe the man would call for parley after receiving the missive. I will meet him with a modest score of men and remind him of his oaths to the throne, and let us hope the man will see reason," he declared.

"That is a relief. The whole realm knows that Lord Tywin holds a grudge against the King for the insults he hurled at the man and how he stole his heir from him. You have to be cautious around him, Daemon," and he nodded.

"I will be," he replied.

"And Robert?" she said, and he could see her eyes harden at the mention of the Baratheon lord. No matter the strife between herself and Rhaegar, the man had killed her husband, and he could understand her anger. Moreover, the man and his forces had killed her uncle, Prince Lewyn, and he knew that she was quite close to him.

"He will die," he declared and saw her back straighten at his words.

"Baratheon will get no mercy from me. He will die. As for those around him, the Lord of the Vale and Riverlands shall suffer the same fate," he declared.

Robert Baratheon would get no mercy, the man had risen up in rebellion, believing his cause to be just as he rode to liberate his wife to be, Lyanna Stark. And he scathed internally as he thought of the Stark girl, for she was the source of all this mess.

Yet she was a girl, an idiotic teenage girl ensnared by his prophecy infested idiot of a brother. Speaking of that, he had to deal with her too.

"And what of the North, Eddard Stark rose up in rebellion as well?" she added and he sighed as he leaned back.

"Of all the four Kingdoms only the North had a somewhat legitimate cause for rebellion. My father burnt Lord Stark and two hundred of his men as then heir to Winterfell chocked himself to death in this very castle, I shall offer him a chance to make peace, but before that I must defeat the enemy forces," and she frowned at his answer.

"Why?" she questioned.

"The Crown cannot look weak, no matter what. They killed Rhaegar, a Prince and march on the capital as we speak, they must suffer consequences of that first," he told her his words strong and final and she realized that as well and nodded.

"I will write to Doran and Oberyn as well and have them send as many men as they can," and he nodded.

Dorne had not fully mobilized in support of Rhaegar, for they had yet to forgive the Prince for the insult he had dolled at the kingdom by walking past their Princess when he had crowned Lyanna Stark as his Queen of Love and Beauty at Harrenhall, moreover, his actions since the start of the war had been anything but responsible.

And so, Doran Martell had held back, a treasonous act one he would tolerate no more.

"Good, and while you are doing that, I want you to write another letter," he began and saw her frown.

"To whom," she asked, and he saw her eyes flicker as she guessed wrongly.

"Arthur," he answered and saw her still as she gasped out in rage.

"You know where he is!" and he nodded.

"I know where the three of them are," he began the three, meaning the three Kingsguard currently missing from the capital, all of them guarding the Tower of Joy.

"Where?" she questioned, sharply.

"Dorne, and she is also with them," he finished and saw her eyes widen before her lips thinned as her fists balled up, for there was no need to elaborate whom he was referring to. The reason behind this war, the cause of all this death and destruction. Lyanna Stark.

"Where?" she questioned, and just as he was about to answer her, she felt the whole castle shake as sounds of explosion rocked the whole city.

BOOOM!

BOOOM!

BOOOM!

She feared the worst, as Daemon jumped out his seat and rushed towards the window, looking out into eh city and she could see smoke rising into the skies.

"Seven Hells!" she heard him curse as the door to the solar, opened up.

"Your grace, it is Morro. The city! It's on fire!" and he frowned as he rushed out of the chair, muttering scathingly.

"That damned spider!" for there was only one person who could pull something like this.

He opened the door and saw one of his most loyal men standing there, despite their precarious situation, not a hint of anxiety visible on his face.

"Water will be useless against this fire! Have them use dirt and clear the areas where wild fire was stacked! The Alchemist guild will know, get the answers from them! Use any means necessary!" he told the man, and Morro nodded through the helm.

"And gather some men in the meantime and scour the tunnels. This incident means that 'the spider' is still in the capital. Capture him!" he ordered as well, and the man nodded and rushed out to complete the command.

"I need to see to this. We will talk later, though do see that the letters are sent out," he asked Elia, and she nodded, though just as he was about to walk out, her voice stopped him.

"You didn't ask about her?" and was there ever a need to mention her name?

And he stopped, his heart twisting at the mention of her. Scars of a decade became alive at her mention.

"I don't need to," he answered as he ran away, his heart heavy with secrets and guilt long buried.

0000

Miles away, in a castle built on the island of Torrentine, a castle housing humans who traced their heritage to times older than those of Old Valyria's glory. In the castle known as Starfall, the letter about the ascendance to the throne of King Daemon Targaryen had caused much commotion as a young Allyria Dayne, black of hair with purple eyes, rushed to a room long locked away, a room which few, including her, could enter.

She would enter the room, her heart breaking at the sight within as she would rush to the side of the bed, where lay a person much like her in appearance yet so different as well as she would mouth.

"He is alive! Daemon, he is alive!" she mouthed, and yet there was no reply as the fairest maiden lay there simply and quietly in a bed of flowers that matched the color of her eyes.

"Please, wake up! Please!" the little Allyria implored as she lay there beside the bed, with tears running down her eyes, yet had she looked up, she would have seen.

0000

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