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36. Shiera XIII / No One
🕑 Added 2024-09-22 15:53:18 +0000 UTCHello everyone, sorry for the cliffhanger from the previous chapter, hopefully, this packed chapter makes up for it. I do a lot of character stuff in this chapter and I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments(they fuel me)
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Shiera XIII
32AC
The warm interior of Castle Dragonstone contrasted sharply with how Shiera felt. She was cold, the warmth provided by the Dragomont was sorely inadequate to fill her empty bed with warmth. The last two sennights of sleeping alone had made it quite a bit more difficult to settle into Dragonstone properly.
She had spent practically every night over the last four years sharing her bed with another. She was glad that her marriage to Maegor was a happy and close one but now it came back to bite her because now she was missing her crutch, her other half.
Shiera had thought that the loneliness she felt after Alyssa Velaryon cast her out would be the worst of her life. Her new friends she made in King's Landing abandoned her under Alyssa Velaryon’s demands. Yet she felt more alone now than she ever had before.
‘At least I had Maegor then,’ Shiera thought with a frown as she tossed and turned in Queen Visenya’s bed. Now she was truly alone, on an island full of people who detested her, with naught but her two infant sons at her side.
Prince Aenys had prepared Queen Visenya’s old room for her when she arrived. She was thankful that she was not stuffed into a closet like she suspected but it all felt wrong. She expected to be treated poorly, Shiera thought for certain that four years of Alyssa’s incessant whispering must have turned Aenys and King Aegon against them, yet it did not happen.
She was taken on as a full-fledged guest, housed in the Queen’s very bed chambers. Meanwhile, her children were treated as the royals that they were and housed right next to Prince Viserys in the nursery. Shiera was thoroughly shocked that she and her boys were treated like family, even if some of House Targaryen treated her more distantly than others.
“Alone and under the protection of a king who banished me,” Shiera whispered into the air before chucking to herself. She had expected King Aegon to treat her almost as bad as Alyssa but it had not come to pass. She was treated with kindness and warmth, just like Maegor told her she would.
Shiera suddenly felt nauseous at her sudden movement and righted herself in her bed. She had been so very stressed even under King Aegon and the Kingsguard’s protection. Just knowing there could be a Faceless Man somewhere in the castle was enough to make her shake in fear.
The endless stream of promises from King Aegon and Prince Aenys did little to persuade her. A Faceless Man had already gotten past all the guards from Dragonstone that they had back in Pentos. Shiera could not help but think ‘What would stop them from getting to my boys here.’
She did not particularly fear for her life, sure she had unfinished business to attend to. Her sons both still needed to be properly raised and they both needed proper Targaryen wives but she feared for their safety far more than her own. It was part and parcel of being a mother, is what Shiera thought. She would give anything for her sons, and that was why she was even here to begin with.
If Maegor had the capability to protect her boys in Pentos, she would have happily remained. She would have hunted down each and every Faceless Man with a fire and vengeance that would make one think that she actually was Queen Visenya’s daughter.
Unfortunately, she had been denied such an honor. The torching of her new home on the Pentoshi coastline meant their options were even more limited than they were before. Both staying within the city of Pentos and outside in the countryside carried distinct negatives.
Their first option was to remain in the city under the protection and hospitality of Illyrio Narratys. Such an option was clearly not viable, given the slacking nature of Illyrio’s guards and the manse having almost twice as much ground to cover as their old coastal one. Frankly, she understood Maegor’s apprehension at keeping their children behind the walls of his friend’s home.
Their second option in the Velvet Hills was not much better. Maegor may have wiped out the bandits and brigands in the region with fire and blood but the region was too remote for her liking for a prolonged stay. The new road Maegor had his army build to Ghoyan Drohe provided all the access they would need but their Velvet Hills estate was too close to the action for Maegor to be comfortable.
Too close to the action and simultaneously too far away from Pentos. Maegor could not in good conscience leave the manse for most of the day to either wrangle the conclave in line or serve as captain of the army while his family was so close to the lines of battle. That was all discounting the possibility a group of Braavosi soldiers could slip through the lines and try to make an attack on their manse.
Both of those negatives were put to shame when the consideration of the Faceless Men came into view. The pathetic cretins after her husband and good mother's lives would have no qualms about slipping a knife into her or her children’s necks. Which they could potentially have ample chances to do given the remote nature of their hilltop villa and the laughably inadequate defenses.
So when it was all put into the bigger picture, Shiera understood why Maegor leaped at the opportunity to send their sons to apparent safety. The Faceless Men and Braavos would have to be truly foolish to attack her and her sons on Dragonstone. Doing so would presumably earn the wrath of King Aegon and his flying demon, Balerion.
She had only seen the living mountain a few times in the last week, mostly whenever King Aegon would take his namesake on a flight but she could not help but marvel at the creature. Easily four times as large as Terrax, who was already quite big, and maybe even twice the size of Vhagar. Shiera felt both a sense of security and fear being under the protection of such a ferocious beast.
She felt secure in the sense that Balerion could likely destroy all of Essos if he wished to. But she felt fear in the same way. She had not seen it yet personally but she knew that Alyssa must be attempting to poison the minds of Princess Rhaena and Prince Aegon. The prospect, however unlikely, of her own children one day having to face Balerion in battle frightened her more than even the Faceless Men.
Shiera felt another pit open up in her stomach and she did her best to open her mind to other thoughts. Dwelling on what may come to pass would do her no good. She would be on her best behavior here and try to build a proper connection with the half of the family she had never really gotten a chance to meet and bond with.
Turning onto her side again, she spotted the sun rise above her window frame and she knew she missed breaking her fast. She typically did it alone but her last lecture from Queen Visenya and Maegor about eating properly rang in her mind like a bell.
Shiera quickly slapped herself on the cheeks lightly before hauling herself out of bed. She had been sleeping far too long as is. ‘It is time to go and check on my children,’ Shiera thought with a sigh. She knew logically that they were safe but she felt the incessant urge to constantly check on them all the same.
She slipped out of her covers and then out of her nightgown. The castle staff had prepared her outfit the night before so thankfully all Shiera had to do was slip on the simple dress. Sure she could dress fancy and bedazzle herself with gold and silver but she just could not bring herself to care. She had always preferred simple jewelry. So that is typically what she chose to wear.
Today was a rather plain, albeit finely crafted, red dress and long, thin red gloves of the same hue. With a silver necklace laden with a single red ruby dangling around her neck and a silver and ruby earring in each ear. The colors complemented her figure well enough and the bright colors would work to distract the court from her red eyes.
She had grown to accept her looks over her time in Pentos. She was considered beautiful in an odd sort of way. Her figure was essentially flawless, her bosom was sizable and readily filled her dress, her hips were wide and her waist was small. Had she been blessed with the proper coloring she would have likely drawn the eyes of every man in a given room.
As it stood, however, her coloring was off, even if only slightly. Her fellow Valyrians were similarly pale so her unblemished skin did not particularly stand out but her hair and eyes marked her as different. Her white hair could be mistaken for silver at a glance, even if it was distinctly the color of snow instead of a fine silver gold. But her eyes were where the major differences lay.
She had been cursed with albinism from the moment she was born. Her eyes were the same hue of red as blood and it meant maintaining eye contact was quite the challenge. People tended to fluster around her from the moment she began staring. It made unnerving people quite easy in conversations but it also gave her an exotic look she did not really want.
Thankfully her husband had no qualms about her looks. He could hold her stare without a care in the world and he liked her figure plenty, despite the negatives her discolored hair and eyes brought. Unfortunately, Shiera had to contend with other people now, as her husband was distinctly not on the island.
No, now she had to contend with the court King Aegon had brought from King’s Landing. The old Aegonfort she had always seen from her window in Queen Visenya’s old manse was being torn down. Soon to be replaced with the building of a new castle, a “Red Keep” as King Aegon called it.
Shiera steadied herself as she placed a single hand on the door. She had been feeling unwell for the last few days. The stress of being alone on this island and separated from her love was almost too much for her to bear but she had to at least put up an appearance. She was the wife of Prince Maegor Targaryen, she would not allow any more degrading whispers to appear about him because of her actions here.
…
Shiera pulled open the door and was met with the familiar black hallways of Dragonstone. Familiar yet different, as when she had been here last they had been comforting. Now they were alien to her, like an old friend she had long since distanced herself from.
She spent almost eight moons surrounded by these very walls. Queen Visenya brought her here when Maegor left for the Stepstones and she truly began her training. Training to help Maegor rule the island and training in magic to help his endeavors.
Her reading material got even more expansive when she arrived here. The material Queen Visenya had provided her in King’s Landing paled in comparison to the wealth of knowledge that just waited to be tapped in the Dragonstone Library. The truly amazing texts, or rather copies of texts, from Old Valyria were more secluded but even those long coveted texts were soon opened to her.
Long forgotten philosophies, histories not known to the Maesters, dragon lore alien to all but House Targaryen and the dragon keepers, and most amazing of all, magical tomes with a myriad of spells, potions, and rituals just waiting to be practiced.
She had gotten to enjoy nearly eight moons of unfettered access to what she could only dream about before. Magical lessons by Queen Visenya herself and a seemingly endless supply of tomes and texts within the library of Dragonstone. Then she had a real chance to live there, permanently, when Maegor finally decided to stop running away and married her.
She had dreamed of that day for years. For the chance to marry the one she loved and help him rule the island of their ancestors, to raise a family of dragonlords on the island of dragonlords. Yet it had all slipped from her grasp when King Aegon banished her and Maegor from the Seven Kingdoms and they were thrust into the veritable snake pit of Essosi politics. Bereft of the island that should have been their and their children’s home. Bereft of the safety and comfort that Dragonstone could provide.
Yet now she had returned to the island she once dreamed of being a lady consort of. She was on Dragonstone, with her children, yet it was not theirs. ‘Merely a guest in what should have been our home,’ Shiera thought with a frown as she finally stepped outside of Queen Visenya’s old room.
“Good day, my lady,” she was met with an instant greeting from her protector for now. Ser Addison Hill, Kingsguard, and her designated guard for the duration of her stay. It was odd having a Kingsguard protect her, but she supposed it did help assuage some of her fears.
“Good day, Ser Addison. I will be walking to the nursery,” she explained where she was going, technically she did not need to but Ser Addison was a good man. She figured he would appreciate not needing to anticipate.
Shiera did her best to put on a performance on Dragonstone, to appear strong and collected despite the war going on in her mind. She walked the wonderfully sound walls of Castle Dragonstone and tried her best to stifle the bitter taste in her mouth. It was thankfully not a very long walk from Queen Visenya’s room to the nursery so she would not have to see too many souls.
The court was still in the process of moving to Dragonstone fully. The island’s population swelled with many of the court lackeys and lickspittles moving into the town below to be closer to King Aegon. Now many of them hung around the previously secluded and peacefully lax halls of Dragonstone.
‘Queen Visenya would hate it here,’ Shiera thought with a small smile as she passed a few no-name knights. Her goodmother could tolerate the presence of many knights and nobles for a time but it was clear that Dragonstone was her reprieve. Much like it was for Maegor in his childhood. Having the quiet home you love turn into a never-ending party would no doubt sicken Queen Visenya.
As she passed a group of three maids who were most likely headed for Queen Visenya’s room, they each greeted her warmly. “Good day, Lady Shiera,” the three said with a bow and Shiera still felt unnerved by it.
Many of the castle guards and staff had seen fit to cross the sea and join her and Maegor in Essos. Queen Visenya paid for them to cross and they made up the overwhelming majority of their staff in Essos. Yet it seemed there were even more here who at the very least tolerated her.
She would not deny she tried to endear herself to the staff during her tutelage. Under the false assumption that she would one day be this castle’s lady consort, she thought it wise to make a good impression. Coupled with Maegor’s stellar reputation among the island that called him their prince even before King Aegon gave him the title meant that she and her boys were surprisingly well liked among the castle staff.
Sheira assumed the most loyal and likable ones left for Essos but it seemed that the staff of Dragonstone were far more loyal than she had originally thought. Even bereft of the most motivated and loyal workers, she felt truly welcomed by them.
She had yet to try and truly endear herself with the nobles on the island, she knew what they called her and she assumed they knew that she would not be particularly happy about it. Combined with the need to be cautious in case of a Faceless Man or another Tyanna situation, Shiera remained distant from the court to the best of her ability.
In no time at all Shiera made it to the fine wooden door of the royal nursery. It was in this room that every Targaryen since the children of Gaemon the Glorious, Aegon, Elaena, Gael, and her own ancestor Daella Targaryen, were raised. Now including her own sons, for however long they may stay here.
Ser Raymont Baratheon and Ser Richard Roote greeted her at the door. ‘Two Kingsguard?’ Shiera thought with a little confusion, typically only one was stationed inside or outside the nursery. The others spread out defending the now quite numerous royals.
“My Lady,” Ser Raymont Baratheon said as he pushed open the door and the sight that met her eyes was still a strange one. King Aegon Targaryen, bereft of his crown and sitting on a chair, with Baelon in his lap and Daeron and Prince Viserys listening intently from their cribs.
“Ah, good day Shiera,” King Aegon noticed her arrival in an instant and closed the book in his left hand, his right hand making sure Baelon did not fall off his lap.
“Good day, Your Grace. What are you reading?” Shiera said as she moved in and picked Baelon up off King Aegon’s lap.
“Book! Read!” Prince Viserys called out from his crib and earned a hearty chuckle from King Aegon.
“Oh nothing much, a Maester wrote a book about my conquest of Westeros and I was reading it to my grandsons, that's all,” King Aegon said with an awkward smile, one that still felt alien to her.
She and King Aegon shared a private conversation the same night she arrived on Dragonstone, in this very nursery, and Shiera was still trying to digest everything that he said. The memory was still fresh on her mind like it had all happened the day before.
“Muna,” Daeron said with his adorable little voice and Shiera poked him in the chest before answering.
“Yes, Daeron?” Shiera said with a smile before her son began again.
“Muna, where Kepa?” Daeron said with a cocked head. Daeron was not quite at the level of sentences but he was getting there.
“He is in Pentos, my little hatchling,” Shiera said with a sad smile as she pinched his cheek. Her son was still somehow energetic, even if he was clearly winding down from the excitement of their arrival.
“Muna, dragon!” Daeron’s attention shifted easily as he pointed at a sculpture on the wall.
“That’s right, Daeron,” Shiera excitedly said. Daeron’s vocabulary was steadily increasing and she could now hold pseudo conversations with her firstborn. She had to admit that she was excited for when she could properly speak with her boys. Of course, she could then start properly teaching them.
Before she could continue trading words with her firstborn. Shiera could hear a few knocks on the door and before Shiera could even turn around, she heard King Aegon begin to speak.
“Not hungry?” he said with a small, sad smile and Shiera stammered.
“I uhm… uh, no, Your Grace,” Shiera said quickly, not expecting him to appear.
King Aegon moved into the room more, as two more Kingsguard entered and took their positions at the sides of the room. King Aegon then took a knee by her and was face to face with her son Daeron.
“So…how is he?” King Aegon asked and Shiera narrowed her eyes.
“Daeron is fine, aren’t you Daeron?” Shiera asked her adorable son but Aegon merely chuckled.
“I apologize, Daeron, I was not referring to you,” King Aegon apologized before turning to face her more properly.
“How is he?” King Aegon asked, an unreadable look on his face.
Shiera considered fighting the bitterness in her tone but she decided against it. King Aegon probably already hated her anyway. ‘What in the seven hells is the point?’ Shiera thought before she began speaking.
“Last I saw him he still had a hole in his chest and a deep cut on his arm,” Shiera said with a not-insignificant amount of venom dripping from her voice.
“Right…” King Aegon said and Shiera narrowed her red eyes at him.
“Your boy, Daeron. He looks exactly like Maegor did when he was two,” King Aegon began speaking again and Shiera almost recoiled in response.
“What?” she asked, dumbfounded.
“Daeron, Baelon too I suppose. They look almost exactly like Maegor did when he was their age,” King Aegon repeated the same thing but Shiera was still confused. Why did he care? He was the one to banish Maegor in the first place.
“Better they look like him than me,” Shiera said with a bit more bitterness in her tone rather than venom. Old jealousy flaring up over her looks, she was thankful that her sons would not share her same affliction.
King Aegon let out a light chuckle at that. Before ruffling the top of Daeron’s head and messing with his hair a bit.
“I wanted to apologize, to you and your sons,” King Aegon said and Shiera was gobsmacked. Her mouth hung agape and Shiera could hardly believe her ears.
“...What?” Shiera asked, this was not how her first night here was supposed to go at all. King Aegon was supposed to hate her, not apologize to her.
“First I would like to apologize to you, it is my fault you got swept along in this whole mess. I should have known that Visenya would try to replace Ceryse with someone,” King Aegon began and Shiera quickly interjected, almost insulted at the insinuation.
“Your Grace, with all due respect. Had I known how it would all end up before I married Maegor. I would do it all again in a heartbeat,” Sheira said with conviction and purpose. She and Maegor had hit a few bumps in the road but she would not trade her current life for anything.
King Aegon stared at her for a few moments after that. His purple eyes locked with her red ones before he smiled a small smile.
“Visenya found a good wife for him huh?” he almost seemed to say to himself and Shiera felt like she was in a fever dream. ‘What in the seven hells is happening!?’ Shiera thought with a dumb look plastered over her face.
“If you will not accept my apology then I will apologize to my grandsons, for they have been suffering my wrath unduly,” King Aegon continued seamlessly and Shiera somehow got even more confused. Her sleep-deprived brain hurt and the tiredness was quickly consuming her.
An awkward silence developed between her and King Aegon before he sighed and began speaking again.
“I presume that Visenya has told you many things about me,” King Aegon began and Shiera nodded wearily. She understood his meaning this time.
“Of course, I cannot fault you for thinking that way, but I promise you this, you will not be mistreated here. You have my word,” King Aegon said with ease and Shiera stared at him suspiciously. This was very different from how Queen Visenya and Maegor to a lesser degree described King Aegon the Conqueror.
“Does that include Lady Alyssa?” Shiera asked before she brought a hand to her mouth. She had asked it on instinct and she could feel like punishment would soon arrive.
“Yes it does, I have already spoken with her. Should she trouble you just let me know and I will have her sent to Driftmark for the duration of your stay,” King Aegon said and Shiera felt like she was in a fever dream again.
“Wha-?” Shiera began before King Aegon continued.
“I want you to know that I do not hate you, nor do I hate my grandsons,” King Aegon said with a straight face and Shiera decided to risk a question of her own.
“Do you hate Maegor?” Shiera asked, wary of the answer he may give.
“Not truly, but I cannot lift his banishment if that is what you are asking,” King Aegon seemed to be telling the truth, from what Shiera could tell at least.
“...And why is that?” Shiera decided to push her luck a little longer, King Aegon seemed to be in a charitable mood and she needed to capitalize on it.
“I do not hate him but what he did cannot be forgiven, not by me at least. If I were to bring him back now, after banishing him. It would damage my credibility even further, and make me look pathetic and weak. His actions already threatened the stability of the realm, any more damage to the credibility of my word could see rebellions rise,” King Aegon spoke clearly and concisely, almost like he was waiting to say it.
“Would bringing two Dragonriders back into the fold not make the Kingdom stronger?” Shiera continued to try. If King Aegon was willing to answer her questions, she had plenty to give.
“Perhaps it would, or perhaps it would just ensure war would come. You do not truly know this Shiera, but war is awful. It takes and takes and takes and in the end, what you get will never fill the hole that was created to acquire the prize in the first place,” King Aegon seemed to speak from the heart but Shiera was insulted.
“I do not truly know? How dare you!” Shiera began and seemed to shock King Aegon.
“I held my dying husband in my arms for eight god damned hours while I thought another assassin would attack at any moment. I carried my two children out of our burning mansion while my husband fought to the death with a Faceless Man. Perhaps you ought to give this lecture to someone else because I know well what the costs of war are. I have already nearly lost my husband once,” Shiera said with a fire and fury uncharacteristic of her. Perhaps it was a mixture of exhaustion and anger but she could no longer restrain her tone.
“I apologize, that was insensitive of me. But you need not worry, you will be safe here. The Faceless Men will not challenge me, unless they wish to have Balerion visit Braavos too,” King Aegon spoke with a certainty that shocked Shiera, even after all the shocking statements King Aegon already made.
“Perhaps I will be, perhaps my children too, but my husband will not be,” Shiera continued to spit venom. She was too tired to restrain herself now.
“I will not bring him back. I am sorry but I cannot. He openly disobeyed me and threatened the credibility of my word, my oaths. But I will do nothing to stop him,” King Aegon said and Shiera was puzzled once more.
“Nothing to stop him?” Sheira asked, both confused and intrigued.
“If he wishes to carve a kingdom out for himself in Essos I will not stop him, even if I hope one day he returns. I will not stop Aenys from lifting his banishment when he ascends to the Iron Throne either. I am being truthful when I say I do not hate my son. He angered me greatly but my hate is reserved for another,” King Aegon finalized his thoughts and Shiera had to ruminate on them for a moment.
“Very well, King Aegon. For the record, I do not think Maegor hates you either,” Shiera said simply before she stood up and left the nursery.
That conversation was shared almost two full sennights before her current talk with King Aegon and Shiera was still unsure about what it all meant. Would he actually abide by what he promised? Shiera did not know.
For whatever it was worth, he did seem to enjoy spending time with his grandchildren, Daeron and Baelon included. He must have taken Prince Aegon up on Balerion five times in the last sennight alone but Shiera was watching him like a hawk.
She had long since learned that trust was something that should be given out sparingly. She trusted Alyssa Velaryon once, then the vindictive bitch decided she was her worst enemy. She trusted Tyanna once too, then she tried to poison Daeron in her womb. So Shiera would have to wait and see how King Aegon acted before he tried truly trusting him.
“You need a book to retell the story of the conquest?” Shiera asked, a little dumbfounded.
“No, I may be getting older but I am not that old,” Aegon said with a chuckle before continuing.
“I merely wished to see how the Maester thought the events played out. It is amusing to hear him speculate about Torrhen Stark,” King Aegon said with a wide smile as he reached for the book again, as Prince Viserys continued to exclaim “Book! Read!” over and over again.
“Speculate about Torrhen Stark?” Shiera asked, somehow a little more confused than she already was.
“About why he surrendered to me and my wives,” Aegon said with a more understanding tone than she expected.
“Well, why did he surrender?” Shiera asked. Queen Visenya told her it was cowardice but Shiera was curious if King Aegon knew something else.
“Because he got a good look at Balerion most likely, and his scouts told him of the Field of Fire. If he had another reason, then he took it to his grave,” King Aegon said before he began reading again, it seemed as if he was almost done, given he was now speaking of the Vale.
Shiera wondered if Maegor would someday invoke a similar reaction with Terrax. Her husband’s dragon was already referred to as “The Terror” so perhaps someday the mere threat of retaliation would stamp any foolish attempts. For now, however, he would have to fight. Braavos seemed to think they had a chance. ‘Or perhaps they truly are foolish,’ Shiera thought as King Aegon continued telling his tale.
Shiera sat there for another few hours, bouncing Baelon and Daeron around, sharing stories with King Aegon and Prince Viserys, and just generally enjoying her time with her sons. Eventually, however, King Aegon sought fit to ask her a question he had already asked her well over ten times now.
“Might you dine with us tonight?” he asked in a well-meaning tone and Sheira could only sigh. She had deliberately been avoiding dining with the rest of House Targaryen over the last two sennights. Mostly because she was unsure if she could will herself to have a good time knowing Maegor was fighting for his life in the East. The last thing she wanted was to pull down the mood.
“I will, I just want to check in with the Maester first,” Shiera decided after a moment’s thought. She had avoided the rest of House Targaryen for far too long. She wanted to make an impression here after all, better to start sooner rather than later.
“Are you alright?” King Aegon asked, momentarily worried about her visit to the Maester but Shiera waved away.
“I am, I just am not feeling particularly well, I want to make sure it is nothing serious,” Shiera said with a small smile. She continued to feel unwell and she would run her own tests of course but Queen Visenya always said a second opinion was good.
“Wonderful, I will ready Aenys and his family then, we will be in the private dining hall, I assume you know where that is?” King Aegon said as he packed up his book and ruffled Daeron and Prince Viserys’s hair.
“Indeed, Your Grace,” Shiera said, a reassuring smile on her face. The last thing she needed was King Aegon on edge.
“Alright then, I will see you there,” King Aegon said as he left the room.
…
Shiera entered the private dining hall with a sinking feeling of dread in her gut. Both at the news she just heard from the Maester and the prospect of actually sitting down with Lady Alyssa and her brood.
Shiera shakily walked into the room, Daeron in toe and the sight that greeted her should have been a welcome one, had other circumstances not ruined everything. She should be excited to dine with her goodfamily, excited to talk and share stories and mingle. Instead, she was fearful.
“Good evening, Goodsister,” Prince Aeynys said with a smile and greeted her before she even really got close to the table. The table he was sitting at was a smaller one. More than big enough for eight people of varying sizes to sit there but still much smaller than she was expecting.
“Good evening, Prince Aenys,” Shiera said with a faked, small smile. She was much too stressed to actually smile right now but she had to put up appearances.
“Bah, I already told you, away with the formalities, when we are in private, feel free to call me Aenys,” Prince Aenys waved away her words and ushered her toward the table. Two chairs, one raised higher, were prepared for herself and her son.
She expected to perhaps be seated across from Prince Aenys’s family. Mayhaps King Aegon at the head of the table, with her and Daeron on one side and Prince Aenys and his family on the other.
Instead, they were all seated at a circular table. Daeron was placed next to his cousin Viserys and she was right next to King Aegon, with Prince Aenys right across from her. Shiera readily placed Daeron in his raised chair and took a seat in her own, desperately trying to hide her shaking legs.
“Thank you for joining us, Shiera,” Prince Aenys said in an overly jovial tone, almost like he was trying too hard.
“O-of… course, Prince Aenys,” Shiera said again, she could not wipe the fear from her mind.
“Are you alright, Shiera?” King Aegon said with a quizzical look on his face.
“I… I am fine, just a little nervous, that's all,” Shiera said with a wave of her red gloved hand. She was fine, the Maester would tell her that her concerns were nothing and she did not make a mistake that night by forgetting a crucial tincture to drink that night.
“Well you do not need to be, we're just eating,” Princess Rhaena said with a confused tone.
Shiera took the chance to look at Prince Aenys’s firstborn and Shiera could not help but feel a little envious. Princess Rhaena Targaryen, almost ten years old and now a dragon rider. She was a microcosm of what was eating at Shiera. A daughter, a dragonriding daughter, and a daughter already lined up to marry her brother.
Shiera meanwhile had two sons to her name, with only Vhagar lined up for her firstborn in who knows how many years, and no proper prospects for marriage. Perhaps Maegor would be content with a member of the Pentoshi elite or a potential daughter from Daemon or Aeron Velaryon but she was not. At least her firstborn Daeron needed a Targaryen bride.
“Rhaena, be kind,” it was surprisingly Alyssa who spoke then, and Shiera finally locked eyes with her purple-eyed nemesis for the first time since she arrived on the island. She had deliberately avoided Lady Alyssa until now, and thankfully her enemy had done the same in avoiding her.
“But what did I say that was mean?” Rhaena asked, a little pout on her face as she saw King Aegon lightly chuckle from his seat to her right.
“Nothing Rhaena, let us enjoy our meal,” King Aegon said as he waved his hand and the food began to be brought out. The appetizers were some freshly baked bread and some fruit imported from Oldtown.
Shiera picked at her food and took a few nibbles of her buttered bread but she could not really bring herself to eat. She was far too nervous, unfortunately, the almost entirely silent dinner table only made it all the more obvious that she was not eating.
“Aunt Shiera,” Prince Aegon said and Shiera almost jumped at his word usage. Never in a million years did she think Prince Aenys’s children would ever call her aunt.
“Y-yes, Prince Aegon?” Shiera asked, a little thankful for the sudden communication.
“Why are you here?” he asked with an innocence only an eight-name day-old child could muster.
“Aegon! I already told you why she is here!” Prince Aenys sternly spoke to his son. Shiera did not know if she ever heard Prince Aenys speak in that way, even if she rarely heard him speak at all until she arrived here.
“B-but… you barely said anything!” Prince Aegon pouted much like his elder sister had before but Shiera jumped in to save him from a lecture.
“It is fine, pri-Aenys,” Shiera said, correcting herself near the end.
Prince Aenys looked a little concerned before he shrugged his shoulders reluctantly and Shiera began to speak. All the while Prince Aegon looked at her with rapt attention.
“Some very bad men are trying to hurt my husband, your uncle Maegor. He cannot protect our children there so your father graciously offered to protect them,” Shiera said, being vague due to the Prince only being eight-name days old but that was the gist of it.
“Some very bad men?” “Wait Kepa offered!?” two childish voices were heard at once. One from Prince Aegon and another from Princess Rhaena.
“Yes, Rhaena. Your father asked me and I gave him leave to send the letter, it is because of him that your cousins Daeron and Baelon are here right now,” King Aegon said with a myriad of emotions in his voice. Pride, humiliation, and happiness were all there in an almost unintelligible swirl.
“Oh… I'm sorry Kepa, I thought it was Grandfather who brought them here,” Rhaena said with an apologetic look on her face.
“No need to apologize, Rhaena. What matters is that they are here now and are safe,” Prince Aenys said with a small smile. Shiera meanwhile was confused. How well known was Prince Aenys’s apparent meekness? ‘Are even his children aware?’ Shiera thought with a thoroughly befuddled look.
“Aunt Shiera?” Prince Aegon asked again, seemingly even more pouty than before.
“Oh, I apologize, Prince Aegon, a group of assassins attacked my husband in the night. He beat them but they were very skilled, much too skilled to properly guard our children from them.” Shiera continued to be vague, she did not feel comfortable properly introducing two young children to the constant fear she was feeling.
“Do you not have a Kingsguard?” Prince Aegon asked the ignorant question but Shiera could not bring herself to be upset, the little prince was quite endearing.
“No they do not, Aegon. They were banished a few years ago,” King Aegon spoke and Shiera suddenly felt a great sense of shame well up. She did not exactly want to explain her banishment to an eight-name-day-old boy.
“Why were you banished?” Princess Rhaena took her turn to speak next, having already devoured her bread and fruit.
“Because your uncle disobeyed his father, now talk about something else,” King Aegon reprimanded Princess Rhaena in the same way Queen Visenya liked to do with people.
“Uhh..um…” Princess Rhaena stammered, trying her best to come up with something and Shiera smiled at the sight. She was just a little girl, after all, she could not blame her for being inquisitive.
“You flew here on Vhagar, right? Why didn’t Queen Visenya stay?” Prince Aegon picked up seamlessly from where Rhaena left off but he happened to touch on another awkward subject.
“She did not want to,” Sheira quickly answered. She had less than zero interest in discussing that topic.
“Oh, alright then,” Prince Aegon seemed to understand it was touchy from her own quick words and a noticeable glare from King Aegon and it helpfully coincided with the main dish coming out. Another batch of fresh fruits from the Reach along with some venison caught in the Kingswood.
“So tell me, why the names Daeron and Baelon?” Prince Aenys seemed to notice the wrecked mood and worked his best to elevate the conversation once more.
“Daeron is my father’s name. Maegor simply liked the name Baelon,” Shiera said with a smile and a shrug. She did not really know why Maegor chose the name Baelon, with her new knowledge of how the previous dance between the Faceless Men and House Targaryen went, she kind of regretted the name. She certainly did not want her son sharing the first Lord Baelon’s fate.
“Hmm, Maegor was always sparing with the details,” Prince Aenys seemed to smile and it even looked like King Aegon had a small one, but perhaps it was just the excellent venison and fresh fruits in the last days of winter.
“Indeed he was,” King Aegon spoke and both Shiera and Prince Aenys stiffened at his words. Somehow every path of this conversation managed to lead back to their banishment.
“Aegon, Rhaena. Might you take Viserys and Daeron back to the nursery?” King Aegon spoke then and before Shiera could even really understand what he said, the two looked a little confused before nodding.
“Alright Grandfather,” the two said in unison and Shiera briefly swiveled her head toward Daeron. She was not enthused about entrusting his safety to two children but King Aegon waved over Ser Corlys Velaryon and Ser Addison Hill after that.
“You will escort them all,” he said pointing to each and they wordlessly nodded.
Shiera remained silent as they left the room. She was loath to be parted from her son but she knew logically the Kingsguard would protect them all. But she resolved to go and see her sons before bed anyway, just to check.
“Shiera,” King Aegon spoke next, his previous jovial tone gone and the stern voice of a king replacing it.
“Yes, Your Grace?” Shiera said with a stiff lip. She would not cower.
“Tell me everything about these Faceless Men, I have read about them but what really happened in your manse?” King Aegon said while also waving away all the non-Kingsguard staff, making the dining hall much more private.
Shiera just barely stifled a sigh, she had already told this story to Queen Visenya once and she did not really want to do so again.
“Father, she is clearly still bothered by it, can we give her a little more time?” Prince Aenys offered but Sheira raised a hand to stop him.
“No it is fine, I will tell you,” Shiera said before repeating every event in excruciating detail, from Maegor’s first swing to when Queen Visenya arrived. Every detail she could remember was told and when she was done, King Aegon gave an audible hum.
“Alright then, the Kingsguard have been warned and the regular guards are already following Lord Daemion’s protocols but I will ensure the castle is more strictly controlled. I highly doubt an attack will occur here, but we can never be too certain,” King Aegon said after her terrible tale.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Shiera said once more. She had already thanked him a few times since arriving here but this one was more genuine, perhaps she would actually get some decent sleep tonight, knowing that King Aegon was not underestimating the threat but she doubted it. Especially if the Maester confirmed her greatest fears.
“Think nothing of it, Shiera. You are the mother of my grandchildren, despite what their father did they are sinless. I will protect them as long as Maegor wishes for them to stay here,” King Aegon said and Shiera nodded curtly.
“He said I will remain here with our sons until he has wiped out every last Faceless Man, so I do not know how long that will take,” Shiera said with a visible frown, it was nice knowing she was not in horrible company but she would rather be with her husband.
“I have little doubt he and Aunt Visenya will succeed in their efforts,” Prince Aenys said with a smile and Shiera offered a hesitant one of her own. It seemed to her that Prince Aenys was closer to how Maegor described him than how Queen Visenya did.
“Now then, how big is Terrax?” Prince Aenys asked then, seemingly moving on from the serious subject matter in an instant and Shiera could only chuckle lightly. She was glad she chose to dine with King Aegon and Prince Aenys that night, she would say it was worth it in the end.
Their discussion continued for a few more hours after that. Discussing Maegor’s myriad of inventions, Terrax, their property in the Velvet Hills, along with all manner of more lighthearted subjects before it was time to head to sleep.
Before Sheira went to her bedchambers or even to the nursery to big goodnight to her sons, she checked in with the Maester. If his suspicions were concerned, she would have a whole other mess to deal with.
Unfortunately, they were confirmed, and Shiera felt the hopelessness and sorrow return. She had to do it alone now, bereft of her husband and goodmother, in a castle filled with people wary of her and those she barely had a relationship with. She was with child.
__________________________________________________________________________
No One
33AC
They had made a mistake, that was the thought that became readily apparent as he looked at the newly prepared face. Ordinarily, he would slip it over his own and move into the camp resting atop a low hill in Old Andalos. Unfortunately, he and his partner had the distinct problem of not being able to get close to their target.
Their entire operation had gone so terribly wrong. The organization and skill of the Black Company was boasted about but it appeared it was not mere bluster. There was near-constant coverage of every single part of the walled camp by at least four guards. Along with a series of fires and lanterns strewn about to make hiding in the shadows all but impossible.
The original plan had been to simply kill a guard by the wall, wait for the change in the guards, close in on Visenya Targaryen, and kill her in one quick motion. It would in all likelihood end in their deaths but he had already given the message to their fourth surviving brother. He was to retreat to Lorath and begin anew, on the off chance they failed.
His would be a long and hard journey, given that they had lost most of their senior members and were now bereft of their most holy temple, but they had recovered from losses before. It was obvious now that his elder spoke of a previous conflict with House Targaryen, one which must have humiliated and nearly broken their order.
He could understand the desire to not proliferate the news of such a loss but his own lack of information made it harder to act. How were they countered? Was it the dragons or something else? He did not know, and unfortunately, he was now the most senior Faceless Man alive.
Which meant it was his duty to fulfill their god’s demand. The many-faced god demanded the death of Maegor Targaryen, and now after a quick vote, Visenya Targaryen too. So he and his least experienced brother set out to kill Queen Visenya, while he trusted his other brother to get the injured Maegor Targaryen.
Yet as he looked over the defenses of the Black Company’s camp, he lamented his situation. This was clearly no ordinary assassination on account of the dragons involved but truthfully going after the Targaryens had been foolish and hubristic.
‘What the hell were we thinking sending our newest member after Maegor Targaryen?’ he lamented. Their traditions meant that only one without any connection or knowledge of the one to be killed was allowed to do the deed. Which made assassinating the popular Prince Maegor a challenge.
The council eventually settled upon the newest addition to their ranks. A gutter rat picked off the streets of Lorath. It was a shock he failed at all, but he should have known better. Maegor Targaryen was renowned for his strength and prowess in battle. Their newest member would surely be at a disadvantage if the assassination turned into a fight.
A sickening feeling developed in his gut as he continued to stare out at the camp. He just had a terrible feeling about their entire mission. Nobody had ever survived their gift before, and yet Maegor Targaryen lived.
‘Is he fated to die at all,’ he thought with a frown. They killed in the name of their god, and yet his brother failed to kill Maegor Targaryen and was killed in turn. ‘Is he not fated to die by our hands then? Is that the horrid feeling in my gut?’ he continued to think. It was all he had done for the last three moons watching the camp.
Three moons of braving the last of the winter had to bear. The celebrations in camp must have been at the return of spring but throughout it all they maintained their vigilance. He had seen no opening, no way behind the walls for the better part of three moons now.
He and his partner had killed off a few soldiers to get new faces and distinctive armor, a crime they would one day pay for to their god, but their current mission came first. They originally wished to use the faces to quickly slip in but they had no luck, now they just had to wait to see if an opening would present itself.
‘Valar Morghulis,’ he reminded himself. All men must die and it was time for Visenya Targaryen to go. She had desecrated the many-faced god, her dragon’s flames burned their temple, almost all of their stored faces, along with six and ten of their twenty members. She spat in the face of death and now it was time for death to return the favor.
It seemed their chance might just be arriving, as a mere two days ago the proper Pentoshi Army finally got off its ass and joined the advanced sellsword force. The Pentoshi camp was a veritable mess compared to the walls camp of the Black Company and he and his companion had taken turns infiltrating the Pentoshi camp. They had to both acquire information about its layout and acquire a face or two to use when inside.
Now it seemed their long-awaited chance was here, as Queen Visenya returned to the army only the day prior and he could see through his Myrish far eye that she was leaving the walls of the camp.
“Let us go,” he whispered to his companion as he slipped on his face. Wearing the face of another was no trivial matter. Preparing a face for use was a process and over their three moons here they had managed to accrue just five faces between them. A new stockpile would need to be built in their hopefully temporary new home in Lorath, but until then they would just have to make them on the field.
A simple nod was given to him by his duo. Typically their order went on single missions, two Faceless Men were rarely needed. Unfortunately, they would likely need two to kill this Targaryen bitch.
They each climbed atop their respective horses and he prepared his cover story. They had been working on an excuse to get into the camp and the Pentoshi sending out some foraging parties was the perfect chance. They ambushed two in the woods and now they were simply foraging soldiers who needed to report their findings of a small Braavosi contingent in the Norvosi Hills.
The ride to the camp was not far but it was not close either. They had carefully observed the Black Company for the last three moons, which necessitated a fine balance between being close enough to properly gather intel and far enough away to not be spotted.
So he gave his companion one more nod before urging his horse a little faster. This was in all likelihood a suicide mission, one he gladly took. He would join his brothers with the many-faced god soon, secure in the knowledge that the Targaryens would never be able to wipe them out completely, for who would suspect a simple black-haired fisherman from Lorath?
…
The interior of the Pentoshi camp was pure chaos. The general of this army was clearly less skilled than whoever ran Maegor Targaryen’s army as the camp was disordered and a right mess. It serviced them well, however, as they could move through the camp with ease after they got through the foolish guards.
They stowed their horses in the make-shift stables and traipsed through the camp easily. Visenya Targaryen was obviously in the commander’s tent. No doubt called by the arrogant Magister leading the main Pentoshi army.
All they needed to do was close in and make the switch with the guards. Before slipping in and securing the kill. They only had to dispose of Visenya Targaryen and they each had a myriad of weapons to do so.
Throwing knives laced with poison, daggers concealed in their boots and armor, a shortsword attached to each of their waists, and a long spear as well. He was imagining a million different ways to kill their old bitch of a target.
An elderly woman would be trivially easy to kill if they could get to her. Even the smallest wound could do her given her weakened body. Maegor Targaryen may be able to survive stab wounds and deep slashes but what of his elderly mother?
Bereft of her dragon, Visenya Targaryen was prey waiting to be slaughtered, and now they were nearing their succulent target. The ornate golden tent of the Magister commander stuck out like a sore thumb in the ramshackle tent and he and his partner gave each other one final look before resolving themselves.
‘Valar Morghulis, Valar Dohaeris,’ the two shared the same thoughts, he could tell just by looking into his brother’s eyes. They would serve and they would in all likelihood die here. But it would be worth it in the end. House Targaryen would learn its place across the sea and his brother in Lorath would begin their oder anew.
“Good evening,” he spoke with another man’s voice. He knew nothing about the face he was currently wearing or the man who he peeled it off of. He got his voice due to their magical ritual but his personality and life were unknown to him. ‘Just as it ought to be,’ he thought with a smile behind his helm. He was a killer, he did not need to know what his victims thought or how they lived before he killed them.
“Good evening, already time to change the guards?” the guard on the right of the tent asked, clearly a little nervous about something.
‘Strange,’ he thought before his partner confirmed. They slotted seamlessly into the position the two guards used to have with their backs at either side of the entrance and they waited. They would wait for nightfall which was soon arriving, to obscure their movement inside the tent to those bustling around the camp and perhaps give them a chance to escape should they survive the attack.
Soon enough, the sun began to fall behind the horizon and he gave his brother one final nod. Checking the surroundings and seeing very few soldiers about, most of them crowded around campfires or already heading to sleep. The soft chatter inside the tent confirmed that there were still people inside.
He drew his shortsword along with his brother and entered the tent in one fell swoop. The moving cloth was quickly swiped away and he brought his left hand around to slash the guard covering the inside of the tent entrance at the neck.
His swipe was not met with a wet squelch and a gurgle of a man drowning in his own blood however, all he swiped was a simple wooden pole laden with armor. The wood exploded and the helmet clattered to the ground but both he and his brother were stupefied.
“What,” his brother vocalized his thoughts and he quickly swiveled his head. Looking toward the center of the room. There he saw two men and an elderly woman, they were not his target, however. It appeared to be two farmers and an old woman feasting on some dead animal.
“We’ve been had!” he yelled to his brother before rustling outside of the tent alerted them both. Before they even had a chance to lower their spears, five men burst through the tent entrance and barreled into them.
He reached for his daggers but he was quickly detained. Then he simply waited for death, they had been tricked. He had gotten too hasty and it cost them. ‘No matter, Braavos may die but our order will live,’ he thought before a strong blow to the back of his head knocked him out.
…
He awoke later in abject agony. He could move neither his arms nor legs, his mouth was gagged with a thick rope, his eyes were blocked with a thick cloth, he was bereft of his clothes, his wrists and ankles were slashed, and most agonizing of all, his tongue was gone.
‘Is this hell?!’ he thought over and over again, the agony from his ankles and wrists was bad enough but a constant searing pain sprouted from where his tongue ought to have been met with the thick rope of his gag.
He screamed and screamed and screamed into his gag before his voice went hoarse and his screams turned into a placid wheeze. He was hyperventilating and felt like his entire body was on fire before a single cold word seemed to quiet his pain, only for it to be replaced by fear.
“Silence,” the distinctive voice of a woman was spoken right next to his ear, he jostled in his chair but he received no reaction.
“Wonderful, good evening, Faceless Man. Or is it morning? Or night? I suppose you will never know again,” the woman’s voice was a chillingly cold one. It sounded almost if there was a smile on her face, but it was not a joyful one.
He huffed and puffed into his gag before the woman began speaking again. “Judging by your screams of agony, you are awake. Good, I do not want to repeat this again. I am going to tell you this plainly, cretin. You will die here,” she spoke the words like they were a warning but truthfully he wished for death now. His mouth felt like it was filled with boiling water and his wrists and ankles burned.
“You get to choose how you die however, give me all the information that I want, and I will stick this here knife into the base of your skull,” she said while placing the tip of a very sharp object up against the back of his head.
‘You dumb bitch,’ he thought defiantly. She had removed his tongue, and even if he could tell her things. He would sooner die than ever give up anything relating to his order. She was smart to remove his tongue in the first place because he would have bitten it off to deny her the chance if he could.
“Or, if you are the fool I think you to be and resist, I will give you the most agonizing and gruesome death I can afford you,” she said in a chilly, calm voice and he merely snorted, for that was all that he could do given his gag.
‘Her brother must have fucked all of her brains out,’ he thought with a small snicker to himself, it was clear who his tormentor was, Visenya Targaryen herself. If he was to die what was the point then? He would gladly put up with whatever pain this hag could inflict upon him if it meant she was denied what she wanted.
“I do not think you quite understand, Gutless Cretin. So let me paint you a picture,” she said before backing away and kicking him right in his loins.
The agony was enough for him to pass out there and then. His mind simply stopped working before a cold splash of water onto his face restored him back to agonizing consciousness.
“That was for the snicker, but now I will tell you exactly what I will do. I will start with your toenails, I will pluck off each and every one with care until your feet are nothing but flesh. Then I will move onto your fingernails, and pluck them off too. Then I think I will remove your toes and fingers, as you do not really need them anymore. Then, if you still desire to resist, I will peel the skin from your flesh until your mind is naught by a frayed mess,” she said with an increasingly pleased tone and he could not help but jostle in his restraints again.
“Do not think that your death will take you before I get what I want, you wretch. I am well trained in medicine and will ensure that you get to live and feel everything,” she continued, an even more satisfied tone appearing in her voice as he jostled again.
‘Stupid brother-fucking whore, if you break my mind and have already cut out my tongue, you will get nothing!’ he thought with another snicker. Knowing it made her upset was more than enough reason for him to do so.
With another swift kick and another cold splash of water later, Visenya Targaryen leaned in again. “You still do not seem to understand, I figured you would have pieced it together when you woke up without a tongue but I do not need you to speak. I will get my information, I was being truthful when I said you can have an easy death or a hard one. I do not care if I have to pick through your shattered mind like a vulture picks through carrion. I will get what I want,” she said with an obvious smile in her tone, and for the first time, fear outweighed the pain.
‘What does she mean?’ he thought before he felt more pain and agony appear on the big toe on his left foot. Clearly, she was fulfilling her promise.
Comments
Arcturus
Yep, that's Mommy Visenya which we all love and afraid in same proproportions😅😈 Well Aegon is still coward and can't agree that only one who did mess was him. But at least he try to fix something, not sure that it will be successful but character development is always good 👌
Morel
Cutest? She is brutally torturing two guys LMFAO. The Braavosi strategy is kind of like the Japanese WW2/ Aztec Strategy. Fight in their city, where they have the advantage, and bet on Maegor and Visenya not being willing to burn the whole thing down.
Loyalist
Visenya is always the cutest ❤️❤️ Nice to see Aenys taking some positions Now I am curious for Bravos strategy, I hope they are not putting everything on the faceless man (for them😈) I understand that before Maegor they were considered a guaranteed success, but what failed once can fail twice In every case Bravos will burn and Maegor future seems all the more interesting !
