Illusiveone
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4 : The Merchant Prince, Rhaella II, Lucerys, Viserys II
🕑 Added 2024-04-05 17:05:12 +0000 UTCIn this chapter Viserys does some gaslighting
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Rhaella
Dragonstone
She was with child; the signs were all there, and for a month, she tried to deny it, to push the thought from her mind. But the truth was undeniable. The morning sickness, the fatigue, the subtle changes in her body—all pointed to the life growing inside her. This morning, the maester confirmed it. In her womb, she carried the last of her children with Aerys. She knew when it was conceived; Aerys had been more cruel that night. He had come to her after burning his newest Hand. She had screamed and pleaded for mercy; she even called out to the Kingsguard standing guard outside, but no one came to her rescue.
The child was conceived in a union of hate, but she didn't care. She would love this babe as she loved all her children. Her hand instinctively caressed her stomach; this child, which she hoped would be a girl, would be a new beginning for her, a light in the darkness that had consumed her entire life.
The gods truly had a sense of humor; she was finally freed from Aerys, and was even with child again, but her eldest was dead, and she found herself leading her house through its darkest hour.
Her gaze shifted to her son, who was intently studying the painted table before him. He wore a small golden crown on his brow. He was king now.Aegon should have been the one, but he was no more, and so was Elia.
They had only heard rumors of how they had died, with most of them being how Tywin had his mad dogs burn her and little Aegon alive. Her heart felt heavy in her chest as she thought of it and her eyes began to water.
"Your grace, they are here," a servant said from behind her. She quickly wiped the tears from her eyes and composed herself, turning to see the lords entering the room from the entrance behind her.They all bowed and greeted her and their new king and gathered around the painted table. Suddenly, the table lit up, catching her son by surprise.
"It lights up?" he exclaimed.
The lords around the table shared a brief, light-hearted laugh at the king's reaction. She too cracked a small smile.
“Yes your grace it does ‘light up’” Said the newly appointed hand of the king Lord Lucerys Velaryon.
She had missed Viserys' more childish side. He was different now; she could not explain it. He was more mature; he acted like a grown man sometimes. Their conversation yesterday was an example of that; her seven-year-old son had come to her with parchments in hand, showing her that their family had holdings in Essos.
"Mother, look," Viserys said, holding up some old parchment. It had been some time since she had seen her son this excited.
"What is this, Viserys?" she asked, looking at the parchment in his hands.
He eagerly approached, laying the parchment on the table before her. "It's a record of our family's holdings, and look," he pointed to a particular section. "We have a large estate in Braavos.”
She was puzzled why he was showing her this.
“Gerald told me it was bought by Aegon the Fourth,” he added, looking at her expectantly. She looked at the other parchments; they were all about royal holdings in Essos, most of them sold off during her grandfather's reign. Why were her son and Maester Gerald looking at these?
She put the parchment down and knelt before Viserys.
“Where did you find this, Viserys?” she asked.
“I found them with the help of Maester Gerald,” he answered with a smile.
“Why?” she asked, her curiosity piqued by her son's unexpected interest in their family's foreign holdings.
She saw his smile falter, replaced by a fearful expression. “We can escape there if the rebels come here,” he said, trying to be as serious as possible.
“Don’t worry, my love,” she said, holding him closer. “We will be safe here from the rebels,” she said, trying to calm him.
"But Mother… what if… what if you are wrong?” Viserys's voice wavered, his eyes beginning to water. "I don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t want you to die like Father and Rhaegar,” he said, holding on to her.
She rubbed his back gently, trying to soothe his fears. "Viserys, we are Targaryens, we are strong. We will not let the rebels defeat us so easily," she reassured him with words even she found hard to believe.
She let him go once she sensed he had calmed down. “Don’t worry about such things, Viserys,” she said, wiping away his tears.
“But I’m king now, Mother, and no one takes me seriously,” he said, pouting.
She laughed, one of the few genuine ones in a long time. “The only thing you have to worry about is making sure your studies for the day are finished,” she said. He nodded and left the room. She could see Ser Willem’s squire running after him.
Viserys was right; they did have a fairly large estate in Braavos, and according to the reports she found when she conducted her own investigation, the estate and its surroundings were well maintained until about thirty years ago. The estate was tucked away in the hills of the Braavosi mainland; it would be perfect if it came to exile, as now only Maester Gerald, Viserys , and she knew of its existence.
“My Queen,” she heard a voice say. Her attention snapped back to the present and focused on the Hand of the King, who stood to her side.
“Forgive me, Lord Hand, my mind was elsewhere,” she apologized, her voice a soft echo in the chamber. Lucerys Velaryon had always been one of Aerys’s creatures, someone she despised but right now his support was needed so she stomached his presence.
“We have sent numerous ravens to Sunspear, but there has been no reply,” he informed her, the worry evident in his eyes.
The lack of communication from Dorne was indeed alarming; it was unlike Doran to remain silent. The thought of Dorne abandoning them sent a chill through her spine. But why? Had they not received the ravens? Had they truly abandoned us? No, that couldn’t be. Her granddaughter was here with them, Doran's niece. They would never bend to the rebels, not after what happened to Elia and Aegon.
"What could be the reason for this silence? Has something befallen them, or perhaps they have not received our ravens?" she said, trying to find any possibility other than Dorne abandoning them.
Lord Velaryon looked equally troubled, his gaze meeting hers. “It’s hard to say, my queen. Dorne has always been loyal to us; their loyalty to Princess Elia and her children is unwavering. We have sent many ravens informing them of the princess's survival. This silence is... troubling.”
The room fell silent; no one had answers, but she still held out hope. “Continue to send ravens. We must not lose hope in Dorne’s support just yet. Perhaps they are simply biding their time, waiting for the right moment to act.”
Many in the room did not share her optimism, yet they nodded in agreement. She thought she heard Viserys sigh. As she turned to ask him what was wrong, she found him fiddling with the table. Shaking her head, she once again focused on the meeting.
“Very well, my queen,” Lord Velaryon responded. They moved on to other matters, and an hour later, the meeting was adjourned. As the lords departed, she asked Lord Velaryon to stay behind.
“Lord Velaryon, I have a matter of grave importance to discuss with you,” she said. She could see Viserys leaning in to listen as well.
“What is it, my queen?”
She took out the parchment with the information about the estate in Braavos. "It's about the Targaryen family's holdings in Essos, specifically this estate in Braavos," she unfolded the parchment, placing it on the painted table. "I believe it might be prudent for us to consider this as a potential place of refuge should the worst happen."
Lord Velaryon looked taken aback, his eyebrows knitting together in a frown. "Your Grace, with all due respect, I believe it premature to consider exile. We still have the loyalty of many, and our forces are not yet spent."
She met his gaze steadily. "Lord Velaryon, we must prepare for every eventuality. Our priority is the safety of the royal family, especially the king,” she said, turning her gaze to her son who had a large smile on his face. “I will not have us caught unawares, not after everything that has happened."
"Your Grace, I understand the need for caution, but are we so close to defeat that we must consider fleeing to Essos?"
"Lucerys," she said, abandoning the formality between them, "we are living in the darkest of times of our houses. We must be prepared; our enemies are many and are close to victory. The safety of the king and my granddaughter, the future of the Targaryen line, must be our utmost priority. The estate in Braavos could be a sanctuary if the worst comes to pass."
Lord Velaryon bowed his head, acknowledging her point. "I will see to it personally, Your Grace. If there is even a sliver of a chance that we might need this escape, I will ensure the estate is ready to receive us."
"Thank you, Lord Velaryon. Let us hope we never need to use it."
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Lucerys Velaryon
DragonStone
Lucerys Velaryon sat in the quiet solitude of his chambers. He was now Hand of the King; his years of service to House Targaryen had been rewarded. Sadly, it was not in service to King Aerys. His ascension to the post of Hand of the King had come during turbulent times, at House Targaryen's darkest hour.
He had faithfully served King Aerys as his Master of Ships for years. Aerys's reign had been the most peaceful and prosperous since the Conquest. As the king's closest confidant and friend, he had helped him guide the realm to that prosperity.Only he and a few others close to the king knew of his greatness; the realm believed the now traitorous Tywin Lannister to be the architect of the recent prosperity, but he knew the truth. He knew how hard King Aerys and his closest confidants, including himself, had worked to ensure the Seven Kingdoms were united and prosperous.
His eyes landed on a scroll lying on the table, its seal broken, the contents read and reread.
The Tyrells had bent the knee.
Those damn upjumped stewards had betrayed them, despite all House Targaryen had done for them. And then there was Dorne. Despite the numerous ravens sent to Sunspear, pleading for support and informing them of Princess Rhaenys's survival, their response had been nothing but silence.
The only light in this darkness was the new king, the second son of Aerys, Viserys. He knew the late king considered Viserys his favorite. Oh, how he would tell him about how perfect Viserys was and how he wished he had been his firstborn. He did not have the honor of spending time with the prince then, but now, after several meetings, he understood what his friend, the late king, was talking about.
King Viserys was truly a prodigy. There was something about the young king that commanded his respect, a wisdom that seemed almost unnatural for his age. He had wanted to cultivate the same he had with Aerys with the new king. At first, he was wary of the queen’s influence over the king, but the king had sought him out, valuing his experience and advice.
Lucerys was not surprised; he was, after all, his late father's most trusted advisor.
He thought back to their last conversation; it was about the royal fleet. The king had asked him what his plans were for safeguarding the fleet from potential rebel capture. At the time, he was sure they had a chance of defeating the rebels and assured the king that there was no danger to the fleet, but the king had all but ordered him to prepare for all eventualities.
The conversation had also strengthened his loyalty to House Targaryen. The king had expressed concern about the lords present here and those sworn to Dragonstone. He feared the rebels would exert the harshest of retributions on them for their loyalty to the Targaryens. In a moment that deeply moved him, the king had solemnly advised him to bend the knee to Robert Baratheon should the worst come to pass.
The king's priority was clear: the safety and well-being of his people over the preservation of his rule.
The young king, despite his age, was proving to be a thoughtful and caring ruler, qualities that Lucerys both admired and respected. There he had reaffirmed his house's oaths to House Targaryen to support them even if the worst came to pass even if they were to swear loyalty to the Stags he and his house would support them in exile and wait for their return.
Now, with the news of the Tyrells bending the knee, their chances of victory were growing slim by the day. He was seriously considering the king's words; he would rather scuttle the whole fleet than let it fall into the hands of the rebels.
The thought of destroying what he had spent years building and maintaining was painful.
He heard the doors open. 'Who would dare to come in unannounced?' he thought angrily, which quickly evaporated as he saw who it was: the king, walking towards him with a beaming smile on his face.
"Well done, Lord Hand," he exclaimed.
Lucerys, taken aback by the unexpected praise and slightly confused, managed to respond, "What is it, Your Grace?"
“No need to hide it from me anymore, my lord, though I feel like I ruined your grand reveal by coming here,” the king said, taking a seat in the chair opposite him.
Lucerys’s mind raced to understand what the young king was referring to. "I am not sure I follow, Your Grace. What plan are you speaking of?"
The king's smile widened. "Your plan for the royal fleet, of course!” he said.
“My plans for the fleet,” he repeated. ‘What plans? I have made no plans,’ he thought in panic.
“You, my lord, are truly the greatest mind from your house since the great Corlys Velaryon,” the king stated.
“Although, you should maintain more secrecy, my lord. I just heard this plan from some sailors discussing it at the docks," he added, a hint of concern in his voice.
"What did you hear, Your Grace?" he asked, trying to discern what this great plan was.
"Well, I was strolling by the docks this morning and overheard some sailors discussing..."
"Heard they're planin to kill us all, every one of us on this fleet," one sailor said to the shock of others.
“Mutiny, that's what we oughta be callin' for,” muttered another, angry and afraid at hearing the first sailor's words.
But the first sailor shook his head. “Nah, lads, there's a plan, I heard. The king's got somethin' up his sleeve to save us all,” he said, leaning in as the others listened intently.
“And what's that gonna be, eh?”
“He's plannin' to split the royal fleet, send us off if the island falls to the rebels”
“So what, we just sail off and not return?”
“What 'bout our families then? We just gonna leave 'em behind?” a sailor asked angrily.
“No, you fool, the king's got plans to keep our families safe too. We'd be hidin' till the dragons can rise again.”
“You heard this at the docks?” Lucerys asked.
“You were there, Alton. Was I correct in what I said, or did I miss something?”
“I… um, I believe you have conveyed everything correctly, Your Grace,” Alton replied, looking puzzled.
“So that's the plan then? Split the fleet, make it appear as a mutiny? Perhaps turn them into sellsails or pirates working for us in secret?” the king asked excitedly.
“I... um, yes, Your Grace, that is the plan,” Lucerys quickly said.
“Good, good. How long until it can be done?" King Viserys continued.
Lucerys, still reeling from the unexpected turn of events, tried to think of a timeframe for implementing the plan he had supposedly conceived, trying to maintain his composure. “We can begin preparations immediately, Your Grace," he responded. "It will take some time to coordinate everything discreetly, to ensure no word of this reaches the rebels."
"Great!" Viserys beamed, pleased with the response. "I knew I could count on you, My Lord. I knew there was a reason my father thought so highly of you.”
“He told you about me?” he asked.
“Yes, he would always tell me how great of a man you were and that I could always look to you for support,” the king answered.
Lucerys puffed up, hearing this. “I shall get started on it right away, Your Grace."
The king left the chambers with a nod of approval. After he left, he sat down in his chair, thinking about what had happened. Who came up with those plans? Perhaps someone was planning a mutiny. It was a good plan though; if the rebels won, they would surely impose harsh punishments on them. A large fleet in the Narrow Sea, covertly working for them, would be great. It did not matter who came up with the plans; from now on, it was his. The king believed it, so it was so.
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Viserys
Dragonstone
He was correct in his assumptions. Lucerys Velaryon was a gullible sycophant, one of Aerys’s pets, and one of his many yes-men. With a smirk on his lips, he walked to the balcony overlooking the docks and gazed at the royal fleet below. His plan was not foolproof; many would mutiny and break away from his control after some time. But if he had some leverage against them, they would fall in line.
He would need to bring skilled workers, blacksmiths, artisans, and craftsmen from the island to the estate in Braavos.
His efforts to sow seeds of fear and uncertainty were bearing fruit. The people he wanted on a ship to Braavos were eager to join his exodus to Essos, seeking refuge from the 'bloodthirsty rebels.'
'All I need to do now is to secure the treasury and all the valuables in the castle,' he thought.
As he watched the fleet below, he could see Alton from the corner of his eye. He looked like he wanted to ask something.
"Alton, you look like you want to ask something," he said to his loyal guard.
"My prince, when we were at the docks earlier, I didn't hear any sailors discussing plans about the fleet. When did you overhear them?" Alton inquired, confusion etched across his face.
He turned to Alton, feigning surprise. "You didn't hear them?”
Alton shook his head.
“Then why did you tell the Lord Hand that you did” he asked.
“I…” Alton had no answer.
“Were you perhaps indulging in wine again, like last week?" he asked with a sly grin.
"No, Your Grace, I swear I wasn't drinking. I've been by your side the whole time," Alton said, denying the accusation.
He sighed. "Alton, maybe you're just tired. You've been working hard and staying up late. Why don't you take the rest of the day off? I plan to stay in my chambers all day," he said, acting concerned.
Alton looked very bewildered; he seemed to be questioning his own memory. "Thank you, Your Grace. Maybe I…. do need some rest," he reluctantly agreed.
