Disclaimer: This is a story based on ASOIAF Universe and all recognizable characters, plots belong to GRRM. I have no ownership to it.
Chapter 44: A Song of Magic and Thrones.
Dragonstone
Daemon 'The God Blessed' Targaryen
Heir to the Seven Kingdoms.
I looked into my grandfather's eyes as he scrutinized me from across the table. There was irritation there, but also acceptance—he did not want to start any hostilities now that we had reached an agreement. Still, it amused my wounded pride to do this to the king. It was petty, and I knew it, but I could not stop myself from doing at least this much.
"Daughter, I am glad I can finally see you," the king said. "You made many people worry when you vanished like that, and congratulations on worming your way to untold power by risking it all. I never expected such a move from you, my dear. I am also glad you found your love and united with him. I know more than anyone how much it means to one's happiness."
I smiled as Gael flushed in embarrassment, while the others hesitated. They could not reconcile what they believed their whole lives about Gael, especially after her response.
"Thank you, Father," Gael said with a kind smile, which immediately turned into a frown. "I would be much happier if I were actually on the boat to Essos and away from court. But someone thought it better to make us stay and rule, while threatening my future children. I was rather cross when Daemon informed me of it."
"Believe me, daughter, I did it only because I had no other option. I will not apologize for it, because I did what I had to do for our house's survival," the king said, and I could feel the honesty in his words. At the same time, I felt the anger radiating from Viserys and Rhaenys—the claimants who had lost the throne. I still could not understand their obsession with it. As much power as it gave, the position demanded endless work. Perhaps those idiots had never understood how hard it truly was. Suddenly, I grinned slightly as an idea struck me—something I would definitely do once I became king.
Gael reluctantly accepted it, but just like me, the king did see the warning glint in Gael's eyes.
"It is good to see you, Gael," Viserys said from his chair with a slight, forced smile. "Congratulations are in order, I suppose. For the marriage as well as… ah, for being the next queen." He finished with a grimace.
Gael accepted it with a smile and looked at Rhaenys, who simply nodded, conveying the same.
"Congratulations," Aegon said, grimacing, his face tinged with sadness.
Gael then turned to Daemon the younger, who was busy staring out the window, scowling. Everyone's eyes fell on him, and the weight of their stares forced him to look around.
"Oh, screw it," Daemon snapped. "I'm not glad to see you at all, Gael. The only thing that made me glad was my grandmother's response when she learned of it. Nothing more. Everyone else gets their love and happiness, yet here I am—still married to that bronze bitch."
Gael laughed at that, and I smirked. I studied Daemon and saw him brooding again. I wondered how much this would change him. He was only twenty now, and he was already experiencing all at once what he had lived through in 105 AC in canon. In the original timeline, he went to war to gain his elder brother's attention and to satisfy his rage, but that Daemon had been several years older—he had tasted true freedom, doing whatever he pleased after Viserys's ascension. He had pushed the limits, knowing Viserys could not act against him without dragons.
But this Daemon, this twenty-year-old boy, had not yet tasted that freedom. There was always someone stronger in age and power reigning over him. Offering him that same freedom, and granting him an annulment, would secure his loyalty to me for the foreseeable future. Still, I would only do it after testing him and ensuring my guess was correct.
"As much as I am glad about this family reunion, we have things to attend to," I said. The smiles vanished from everyone's faces, save Gael's.
"Grandfather," I continued, ignoring the rising tension, "it would be better if you ordered the Kingsguard to let in our guests outside. I do not think you would want another headache to deal with, if I ordered them while you were still here and my response to any disrespect from them."
I already knew the Kingsguard had been informed of my legitimization and my marriage to Gael. They had not yet been told of my status as heir.
I felt the king's curiosity about who the guests could be, but his pride kept him from asking. Instead, he called for a Kingsguard knight, who entered the room. I saw the knight's eyes widen in surprise at where I was seated, but I kept my face emotionless.
"Ser, let the next people enter this room. Also, from now on, you shall take any order from Daemon the Elder as if it were from myself," the king said. The knight bowed with courtesy, though I could sense his surprise—and his burning curiosity to know what was happening.
He left, and not a moment later, murmurs echoed outside. The doors opened again, and to the surprise of everyone but me, my daughter dragged a man in maester's robes by his chains. Behind them, a jet-black direwolf with eerie green eyes squeezed into the room, despite the door being large enough for a mounted knight to ride through. I grinned as I felt Fenrir's annoyance at having to slither through, his height far above the doorframe. My grin widened into a smirk as I felt the Targaryens—except Gael—tense in fear. Even the king was afraid, though I could not see it with my real eyes. His kingly mask was too efficient at hiding it.
"Uncle Vaegon," I mocked. "I am glad you could finally join us for this meeting."
"I was in the middle of the most wonderful book when this devil child dragged me here. I refused, of course, but she pulled me all the way, and the men-at-arms did nothing even when I ordered them to save me, avoiding me when they saw the monster of a direwolf behind us!" the maester grumbled in irritation and fear.
"Well, then you should have come when I first told you about the meeting," Lyanna scoffed.
"Aye, Uncle, you should have done that. And that is not a monster," I said with an exaggerated gasp of disbelief. "That is my bonded familiar since 79 AC, when I saved him from predators beyond the Wall. He is a cute, kind young puppy who loves belly rubs and children."
Everyone stared at me in disbelief, their expressions only intensifying when Fenrir actually nodded at my words, looking expectantly at the Targaryens.
"Oh, you poor boy," Gael said softly. "Come here." She scooted her chair back with a harsh scrape, and Fenrir moved forward, sprawling down with his massive head on her lap. Gael grunted as the weight landed, but she began stroking his ears and running her hand through his fur. Lyanna also smirked as she went on to sit on the back of Fenrir and join Gael in petting him.
Viserys broke the warm moment with a cough.
"Er… cousin, is it safe to have that beast around the castle?" he asked hesitantly. I knew he was likely thinking of Rhaenyra.
I waved my hand dismissively. "Do not worry about him. As I said, he is a big softie. He would probably even save your idiotic hides if anyone came to harm you. Having him in the castle is safer now, especially since the Faceless Men will come for us, after all, I killed one of them deliberately."
Viserys sighed, still looking confused, weighing which was the greater threat.
For a moment, I thought the matter was settled before the king suddenly asked, sharply:
"Daemon, what do you mean you killed one deliberately? And how would the Fourteen cursed assassins know it was you? You told us Morghul killed all of the men in ambush by burning 11 ships."
"Ah, you noticed, Grandfather," I said with an approving nod. "Well, after Gael beheaded one with Blackfyre, I saw a grey-black wisp of magic escape the body and fly northeast. I am sure it joined their leader or someone who would be informed of what had happened. Curious, I began using my greenseeing to check whether more of them had been lurking near my loved ones. To my surprise, I discovered one of the guards I killed near Morghul's old lair was a Faceless Man, watching the dragon. I later discovered two more—one killed by Fenrir, the other by Lyanna's familiar. Coincidentally, all of these were after 92 AC and I have sensed their presence near Winterfell and King's landing more strongly since then. The assassin was looking for me for years until one of my bards betrayed me. Anything you would like to inform us of, my king?"
Jaehaerys sighed before answering. "There is an old agreement between me and Braavos. It was the only way war was avoided after Elissa Farman stole the three dragon eggs. No dragons were to fly above Essos. I violated that when I sought revenge for my son's death. No one reached out to renegotiate, nor did I."
The king finished with a casual shrug. I grimaced, irritated at having inherited yet another family problem, now, from my father's side.
"I see," I said with a frown as my mind wandered fast through my options. For some reason, I felt I should start by burning down the House of Black and White immediately, but I don't want to start a war now. It would affect my and North's dealings with Braavos and Iron Bank. After all some portions of our money is still stored with Iron Bank and loosing it by starting a war before moving our assets is plain stupidity.
An awkward silence fell over the room before the king finally asked, "So, Daemon, what are you going to do about this threat to our family?"
For a moment, my eyes widened at the audacity of the king. Then and there I understood that the king had been counting on my god-blessed magical powers to save House Targaryen from the Faceless Men ever since he had ordered the burning of Myr.
I scoffed as I said, "Well, I will do nothing for now. As I said, Fenrir will help me as usual, and even without him I can now see through their magic. It is simply another inherited family feud for me, just like the one I inherited from the Starks. For now, both are far away from me—one in Braavos and another in the Lands of Always Winter. I will deal with them when they arise."
Jaehaerys' eyes narrowed as he understood the implication that I was talking about the Long Night and the threat it brings. I could feel his open curiosity, and I smirked, which made him grimace immediately.
"Aye, my king. Since you do not care about the Long Night or future survival, I will not explain the true history of this continent," I said.
The king only nodded, and I decided to change the subject.
"So, if anyone does not yet know her, this is my firstborn daughter, Lyanna Mormont, heiress to Bear Island," I said, enjoying the various looks my cousins gave Gael. They seemed disappointed when they saw no reaction on my wife's face. My mirth, however, vanished when I heard a scoff and saw a look of derision from Aegon.
I looked at my youngest cousin, the one who had survived only because of me. I had no opinion of him—he was irrelevant, and I had not even bothered to keep an eye on him until now.
"Cousin Aegon, what did I just see? Do you think so lowly of Bear Island?" I asked seriously, staring at him.
"No. I did not say anything," Aegon whispered, trying to shrink into his seat. I looked at him carefully and sensed his naked fear toward me. It was so raw that I wondered what I had done to make him that scared. Then I remembered the happenings of last night and how it might have appeared to a scrawny, dragonless fifteen-year-old boy. Suddenly, my immediate plan of bullying him slightly became crueller than I thought. To reiterate that sentiment, Gael, who was sitting beside me, kicked me in the shins under the table.
"Oh, just enough, Daemon. The poor boy recently lost his father and was then chastised by everyone for trying to claim Vhagar in his foolishness. Do not bully him now."
The sudden tension in the room when I asked the question immediately vanished, for even though it happened under the table, they heard the sound of the kick and saw the movement in Gael's body.
"I was not planning to do that," I grumbled. "I was just going to educate him about how large and prosperous Bear Island has become because of me. It is not some hovel at the end of the world. Is that not correct, my king?" I asked, looking at Jaehaerys, who was observing everyone.
"Yes, it is correct. The shipping industry you built from the ground up on both the west and east coasts of the North has made many in the small council grumble. Many petitioned that the North was arming itself. In fact, you should be thankful to me, Daemon. It was I who dismissed all such claims, since the North had actually paid the tax for raising such ships and arming themselves." The King said with some mirth in his eyes.
I just scoffed. "Come now, my king, do you think I am that naïve? Please do not insult me. It was no favor to me or the Starks. It was pure selfishness. The Mormonts and the houses in Skagos answer to the Starks, and the Starks answer to you. This only increased the capability of your kingdom without you lifting a finger, while also giving you money from it. And the greatest benefit for you is that it is useless against you in any rebellion, should one ever come, because our house rides dragons to war. Who was the idiot that thought this trick would work on you of all people?"
The king only laughed and did not answer the question.
"Cousin Aegon, as of now, Bear Island has five whaling ships, ten longships liberated from pirates, five merchant carracks, and twenty ships exclusively for the protection of the west coast and its trade. In fact, the whaling industry on the west coast is so successful that I am certain Bear Island earns more income than even Dragonstone now. Mormonts and I now have a monopoly on whale products that is sold in Seagard, Lannisport and Oldtown. So, the heiress of Bear Island inherits more wealth than you, a third son."
Aegon looked embarrassed at that, but I was glad the cold fear from before had vanished.
"Oh, enough of it, Father," Lyanna finally said from where she was sitting. Vaegon had already taken one of the seats near the right side of the king. "If not for you, what Aegon thought would be true. So do not be offended on my behalf."
I just shrugged. "I only want to make sure my own achievements are not discarded as rumors and hearsay. That is all, my daughter."
Lyanna nodded. "Then I will leave now and let you continue with this important meeting."
"And, pray tell me, where are you going?" I inquired with faux curiosity.
"Anywhere but here, away from the boring discussion of laws and how they affect everyone," Lyanna replied.
"No. As I said, this is a family meeting, and you are my blood. You are my family. Sit here," I said, pointing to my left side.
My cousins immediately looked at the king. Jaehaerys scrutinized me before shrugging, as if he did not care whether someone not named Targaryen participated in the meeting.
Lyanna gave me her patented look—the one she always used to get things from me. Being the brilliant man that I was, I looked away, pretending not to see it. Finally, she sighed and sat beside me.
"Prince Daemon," Rhaenys finally said, "you said you liberated ten ships from pirates, and by that you meant Ironborn, correct? How did you manage to avoid their traps, since it was they who made any naval power on the west coast of the North impossible before?"
I could see the interest in Rhaenys' eyes. She was clearly seeking the long-held secret of how the northern vessels traveled without being ambushed—and not by keeping the land nearby as their guide, since there is no compass in this world yet.
I only smirked. "Well, the same way the Manderlys use on the east coast to avoid the pirates of the Stepstones, sailing without any land in sight."
Rhaenys knew better than to press further; it would be a waste of time, but she still looked at me like I would boast some more things as I usually do.
Finally, the younger Daemon scoffed and broke the silence. "Oh, come on, Rhaenys. Are you really that foolish? You still have not figured it out, even after yesterday's meeting? The answer is magic, Rhaenys. Magic. Of course they use warg scouts, and birds would be very useful—or even sea creatures, if possible."
Rhaenys' eyes widened in surprise, and even I was impressed at the cleverness of my younger namesake. Even when all the information was in front of them, not everyone could connect the dots, bound as they were by their own firm beliefs and notions.
I neither confirmed nor denied it.
"Now can we finally get on with the meeting?" Daemon snapped.
Before I could reply, the king intervened. "Yes. Now that is settled, we should move on to more important matters."
I immediately accepted with a nod. "Aye, we should. Now, Grandfather, you are the best schemer among us, and I want to hear what you intend to do to deal with the snakes in the shadows, as well as how to consolidate House Targaryen's power from here on."
The king snorted at the praise, but he did begin to speak of his plans.
=====================================
Hours Later
I could see tiredness on every face except mine and Gael's. The hours of debate over the new rules and their consequences had left everyone frustrated and angry.
Finally, a conclusion had been reached—or rather, I managed to force it into what I wanted. The provisions that increased Targaryen powers were accepted almost without protest, but all my cousins and my sister opposed the rule that a dragon could only be claimed with the king's approval. Seeing there was no convincing them, I had to strong-arm the decision through. Even though they remained rebellious on that matter, I could sense their forced acceptance—they did not want to challenge me openly.
I was about to end the meeting when Uncle Vaegon finally spoke.
"Now that all is settled, Prince Daemon, let us discuss your heir and immediate succession. We just saw how no backup plan was never enough in my father's case. You are, after all, his sixth heir."
I looked around and saw that everyone was very interested. To my surprise, even Lyanna wore a slightly wishful look. That alarmed me, since I did not want any type of civil war among my children in the future. I used my empathy on her and sighed in relief when I found no serious ambition or greed—only open curiosity about what she might do as queen.
"It is irrelevant, Uncle. I never brought it up because it is a waste of time, and we had far more important matters to decide," I said waving my hand, dismissing the issue.
"What do you mean irrelevant?" Viserys almost shouted in anger. "Having an heir is the most important matter for a king. It is not something to dismiss so carelessly."
I sighed. "Oh, come now. Did you not hear what I revealed about myself? I do not need to appoint an heir because I will not age or die anytime soon. Along with my bonded Fenrir, Morghul, and Gael, I am now unaging. We can only be killed, and that is very hard to accomplish because of my regeneration. Why would I need an heir when I am certain I will outlive all my children?" I finished with a morose tone and a hint of defeated acceptance.
I had expected many reactions from my cousins and sister, but they were struck silent—by awe, fear, and even greed. The reaction that truly unsettled me, though I should have expected it, was from Gael.
"What?" she yelled from my side. I almost flinched at the anger in her voice and closed my eyes in tiredness.
"Ah, Gael. I thought you would have understood by now. We are unaging, but our children? They will certainly be long-lived and magical, but even I do not know by how much. What I am sure of is that we will outlive them."
"But… but—" Gael sputtered, "couldn't we re-enact the ritual we did for ourselves on them?"
"Gael, we could, but it would only prolong the inevitable. They might gain a few extra centuries, living as long as their bonded dragon, but even dragons age and die. You, Morghul, and Fenrir are unaging because I am unaging, and I used the ritual to share it with you. I cannot do the same for anyone else. And truthfully, many people would not even want to live forever. We are young and full of wonder, so we think immortality is desirable. But in time, this will become a burden."
Gael went silent as she processed my words, though her look made me certain she would return to this subject when we had privacy.
"This is madness," Rhaenys finally snapped. "My king, do you truly believe this claim?"
Jaehaerys, who had been silent until now, only observing, finally spoke.
"As surprising as it is, I do believe it if my grandson says so. He has no reason to lie, since it will be easily proven with time. My children, look at my heir. Even with our Valyrian grace, does he look like a man of thirty-four years—raised in the harsh cold of the North, half his life spent in the wilderness of the North and the Sunset Sea?"
I smirked as everyone studied me more closely.
"Aye, I am at the prime of my life," I said with a smirk. I felt surprise and envy from around the table as they finally grasped the truth of the matter. Then it was horror as they realised whatever plans they devise to get the throne will be in vain if they actually discarded this piece of information.
"Now, I trust everyone knows not to blabber this to anyone outside this room?" I said, unleashing my presence into the chamber to make my will clear. "The only reason I revealed it is because the more powerful you believe I am, the less likely you are to waste my time with foolishness that would end with me killing you. I don't want to be known as a Kinslayer as long as possible."
They all agreed quickly as I drew my presence back.
"Since the lords and people will still wonder about succession, let it be settled by the laws we just decided upon. By age and by being a dragonlord, Daemon is my heir—until Gael and I have a child who bonds with a dragon, or Viserys here succeeds in claiming another dragon." I ended with a knowing grin.
Viserys looked lost. He wanted to claim a dragon, but there were no eligible ones left. Dreamfyre would kill him, as Viserys's previous dragon had been Balerion, and Vhagar was still deep in mourning.
The king nodded. "Acceptable for now. But let me be clear: no one is to say anything about Daemon's unaging nature. If anyone approaches you to plot his death or to speak of rebellion, you are to show interest, then inform both me and Daemon."
My cousins understood the reason immediately and, though reluctant, agreed.
"Now, since nearly all matters have been decided, one remains. I have inspected the dragonglass reserves of Dragonstone, and they are immense. They shall be mined and forged into knives, arrowheads, and spearpoints. From now on, every Targaryen is to carry a dragonglass blade as a status symbol, so the other lords will follow. It is one of the few true weapons capable of killing shadow wraiths, White Walkers, and wights alike. Furthermore, every piece of Valyrian steel in your possession is to be submitted to the royal treasury. I do not care if it is as small as a button or as large as a shield—every fragment must be collected. Over the years, I have learned the secret of reforging Valyrian steel through spying, and I managed to entice a blacksmith from Qohor to come to Westeros. I have watched him work for a year and practiced myself on simple tasks. I am now skilled enough. All Valyrian steel will be melted down and reforged into useful weapons."
Viserys and Rhaenys looked as though they wanted to protest, but held back when I listed the magical threats and their nature. They showed reluctance to part with their steel, but yielded after a harsh glare from the king.
"Grandfather," I said, "I learned many things from Morghul, but the ritual of banishment you threatened me with was not among them. I hope you know what I am about to ask. Does our magical repository hold the secret of Valyrian steel? Did Maegor or Visenya ever tell you anything regarding it? Since I claimed Morghul, I have tried to infiltrate Valyria through my greensight, to glimpse the past and its secrets. But every attempt has failed—I am always repelled or discovered."
Jaehaerys gave me an approving smile at my caution and persistence.
"I am sorry, grandson. As far as I know, we lost that knowledge when we left Valyria. I believe the other thirty-nine made certain it would not spread, and we were given an island and wealth in exchange."
I was disappointed but nodded at the king, then finally dismissed the meeting.
Even after everyone left, I sat in the chair, brooding over my quest for the secrets of Valyrian steel. I had risked death many times, but every attempt was useless. Then a thought struck me, filling me with new hope. It had always been me alone trying to pierce Valyria through my greensight, navigating the river of time. Just as Balerion had discovered me all those years ago, the other dragons in Valyria had sensed me. But that was before Morghul was truly on my side. Our bond was different now. Perhaps, if I used Morghul himself, the other dragons might allow me passage. Even if that failed, then my only option to gather as much as valyrian steel is Essos where the weapons are far more common than here in Westeros where it is very rare.
My thoughts turned to my other familiar, Fenrir, and I grinned at his mischief. I had left him on the mainland, since no Essosi sailor would allow an animal of that size on their ship. I had arranged for a northern vessel to pick him up from White Harbor and drop him near Essos. But the attack on me had changed everything, and Fenrir had begun running back to me instead. Through our bond, we always knew each other's direction, and I had even seen him swimming in the sea toward Dragonstone when I warged into him.
I had to eat a four-course meal yesterday because of how much energy Fenrir drained from me while swimming. I told him to wait, but he ignored me, furious that I had fallen into a trap through arrogance and had been attacked. I asked him to come ashore at an abandoned beach on Dragonstone, but Fenrir, still annoyed, entered Dragonstone's port instead, causing immense panic among the men and sailors.
By the time the guards recovered, Fenrir had already left the port. A runner was immediately sent to the castle to inform the king, and I was summoned.
Fenrir, after a small hunt, came to the castle walls. I had to personally go with a Kingsguard to open the gates. My irritation was soothed by the sheer amusement I felt at the people's reaction to my direwolf. Seeing a wolf the size of a small elephant made them shiver in fright, and their shock at me scratching and petting him was hilarious.
Unfortunately, they got over it quickly—perhaps because they had already grown used to dragonlords and their beasts. Soon enough, their attention turned to me. By the time this meeting started, entire Dragonstone had heard about the Return of the bastard grandson and his monstrous wolf.
=========================================
Bessaro 'The Many-Faced God' Reyaan
Braavos
Bessaro Reyaan was not having a good time of late. His plans to regulate magic among the people had been thwarted time and time again for the last decade. His best man in Westeros, Jaquen, had not been able to find where Daemon Snow had vanished to for years. Jaquen wandered both south and north, yet there was no sight of the bastard.
So when he felt immense joy from Jaquen through their connection, Bessaro was beyond surprised. For a moment he even hoped Daemon was dead, judging by the amount of happiness radiating through the link. But it took only several heartbeats for him to connect and peruse the memory, and he learned that his Face had only discovered where Daemon might be from a traitor.
The traitor revealed that Daemon had been moving about as a bard with dyed hair, perfect in singing and other irrelevant things. The underling even shared that Daemon was leaving for Essos and would not return to Westeros for the gods knew how many years, because the bastard had somehow seduced and kidnapped Princess Gael.
Thus Bessaro watched as Jaquen made the appropriate moves to trap Daemon and Princess Gael. Bessaro's knowledge regarding the current sentiment toward the king from the Three Whores was very useful, and Jaquen used it well to make the captain his man.
Bessaro was happy. He even broke open a two-hundred-year-old bottle from his stash, stolen before the Doom, to celebrate as the bastard boarded the ship. His headache of increased magical powers in the North would finally die away, and everything would return to normal in some decades.
But fate must truly have hated his demonic self, because the plan did not work out. Even Bessaro was surprised to see that it took three days of constant sleeping agents, and later poison, before the prince and princess finally fell asleep after their constant coupling. It was the first sign of alarm for him, for no one should have been able to survive that amount of toxins, especially poisons prepared by his men.
For that reason alone, Bessaro shared more of his power through the link to Jaquen's body and hid himself outside the room as the confrontation happened. Then came his second surprise: the bastard woke up and went on a slaughter, when he should not even have been able to open his eyes.
The third surprise came soon after, in the form of Cannibal annihilating every ship. Bessaro cursed all the Fourteen Flames for it. The bastard had somehow tamed Cannibal and was bringing a dragon to Essos. Bessaro could not believe the audacity of this bastard and the old king to allow such a thing. Still, Bessaro knew he must at least try, and Jaquen used his abilities to hide and ambush Daemon.
Then came Bessaro's final surprise. Every Face under his control retained the same abilities. Each Face held the abilities of every other, and only training the muscle memories was needed to make them the best warriors in this wretched world. It became evident as Jaquen managed to pierce Daemon's torso twice in the first minutes with a deadly poisoned blade. Bessaro even grinned in triumph as the bastard stumbled and slowed. But to his horror, the bastard fought through it, and after nearly a quarter hour of fighting, Jaquen lost his limbs to him. Worse still, Bessaro realized something more dreadful: the bastard had somehow grown more skilled and fluid in the fight against the Lorathi.
Bessaro did not want to lose any more power and abandoned the body with his full strength before Daemon killed it.
Bessaro opened his eyes and almost threw the two-hundred-year-old bottle in rage, as it was the nearest thing on the table. Only a last-moment realization saved his remaining precious alcohol. He drank directly from the bottle to commiserate his sorrow and anger.
Balerion had only been dead for five years, and now another special dragon had entered the game of magic. Bessaro cursed fate; his task had just become harder than ever before. After finishing the entire bottle, he shook his head, forcing himself back to decision-making.
First, he cleared the table and spread out one of his maps of Essos and Westeros, showing all the players on both sides of the Narrow Sea. The map of Essos extended to Volantis in the south and Qohor in the east. Bessaro knew the followers of the Red God were riled up and the price on northern men had not come down at all. He concentrated on his Face in the Three Whores to access the latest situation. After perusal, he grinned: the Triarchy had been formed with an ironclad bond, and it would take a generation to break it.
"Thank you, Jaehaerys. It seems trauma and hatred are the glue that holds everything together." Bessaro whispered.
Of course, Bessaro and his Faces had ensured that all dissenters to the formation of Triarchy were dealt with, and the Red Priests had been of great help in ensuring the hatred toward Westerosi remained the same. Bessaro wondered what would have happened had Daemon actually landed in Essos with Gael. Likely one Free City would have been reduced to ashes before the Red Priests stopped any overt moves against him. Bessaro knew Daemon would land in Essos somewhere shortly, and he needed to prepare the cities for it.
It would take at least a dozen of his Faces working together to overpower Daemon and kill him, but no such numbers were available in any single city except their headquarters. His forces were spread too thin, balancing information gathering and assassinations. Bessaro resolved to make sure all his Faces searched for potential recruits from now on. Still, there was one problem he could find no solution for: Cannibal. The dragon would definitely come for them. Bessaro was still devising ways to kill the beast when a disturbing thought struck him.
'What if Daemon, a confirmed warg, moved his mind into Cannibal upon death?'
Bessaro cursed everything he could name, sheer rage flooding him. At last, he sighed in defeat and stood from his chair. He went to the wall behind him, pressed his hand against it, and pushed his demonic magic out. The wall shifted immediately, opening into a vault. He walked inside and found the trunk he was searching for.
The trunk contained three dragon eggs turned to stone.
With worry, he carried the trunk back to his table and closed the vault door with a push of his magic. Bessaro hesitated, trying to think of another way to achieve his goals, but seeing none, he sat back in the chair and closed his eyes.
For several minutes nothing happened. Then a faint grey-red mist left Bessaro's body, converging into a creature the height of a Child of the Forest. Its skin was red, its eyes black as night, with two small horns upon its brow.
The Demon raised his right hand over the dragon eggs and lifted the nail of his left hand to make the cut that would bleed upon them and corrupt the eggs with demonic magic. But before the nail could pierce his skin, the demon froze. His instincts screamed in warning, and he almost lost consciousness as his long-lost memories of the Fourteen Flames of Valyria flashed before his eyes. Even his enhanced mind couldn't retain anything even now over whatever magic was holding him back, but three images did get seared into his mind, almost breaking it.
There was a black dragon, three times the size of Balerion, breathing flame into a volcano itself.
There was one of his sacrificed Sorcerer Faces, reading an ancient book on dragonlore: Never corrupt dragon eggs with any other sources of magic. The repercussions from the Fourteen will be deadly.
There was sunlight for several heartbeats as one of his Face looked upwards, before 14 dragons appeared in the sky, entirely blocking the blue of the sky by their various colours and their sheer size, before everything became Fire.
The Demon for the first time since arriving in this cursed planet screamed in terror and pain. Black blood started leaking from his eyes and ears as he screamed in pain until blessed unconscious enveloped him as his body was fully covered by burns.
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After many hours, The Demon regained control of his body which was still standing frozen over the eggs, while slowly healing from burns. He quickly pulled his hands away from the eggs. Had he needed to breathe, he would have been panting hard. he still felt the pain and his immediately turned his body to mist. The red-grey mist vanished into Bessaro's body again.
Bessaro opened his eyes and saw the eggs sitting innocently before him. he had long wondered who had the power to manipulate the mind of a demon of his power, making him forget whenever he occupied the Ten Sorcerer faces that caused the Doom. Finally he understood that it was his magic protecting himself from the pain and horror of the Fire. Still he was glad that he at-least understood one thing from the three images that he retained.
"The Fourteen Flames were actually Fourteen Elder Dragons."
Bessaro sighed and decided on a last gamble before turning to demonic magic. His mind went to one of his Faces who held the most powerful political position after himself.
Malaquo Maegyr: The Tiger Triarch of Volantis. Husband of Saera Targaryen.
Bessaro did not know what the old king had been thinking, threatening and torturing the Triarch through dragondreams to accept Saera as wife rather than mistress, or how much human blood he had spilled to power that magic. But for Bessaro, it was very useful. The broken Triarch had married Saera and then gone to Braavos to hire the Faceless Men to kill the old king. The Triarch's mind may have shattered, but he was still a tiger who wanted revenge in blood and violence. Bessaro named a price even the Triarch could not pay. Then the Triarch begged for some magical protection from the old king, and inspiration struck. Bessaro gave the fool the Faceless technique. After that, it was an easy matter to take over the Triarch, bind him, and make him the latest Faceless Man.
Bessaro had needed to kill at least a dozen men in Volantis to maintain Malaquo Maegyr's power as Tiger Triarch, for he had become almost a laughingstock for marrying a Targaryen whore. Still, Bessaro ordered Maegyr to play the role, and even had him father three children with Saera.
Bessaro nodded to himself as he decided to take a more direct approach. He ordered five of his Faces at headquarters to safely deliver the three eggs to Maegyr, while sending the majority of his consciousness to the Triarch to take direct control.
It was time the eggs hatched for the three Targaryen children while he trained them in the Faceless method and then take over their body as his newest Faces.
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Authors Note: so daemon preparing for when he is king and the very distant long night… dragon glass will be made available to everyone and then some… also wrote a long summary of plotlines for 101 ac-110 AC and deciding when to place the different plots I have been preparing in the background…. So the eldritch horrors and magic I wanted is coming and the first magical war is brewing in the background…
Also I am very much surprised that we have not reached the small council chapter yet… it was supposed to be the very next chapter of dragonstone meeting… but targ family drama hooked me hard and my imagination is running wild…..
If anyone is wondering, jae used the blood of balerion he got when he was bloodletting balerion to clear the rot to power this attack on triarch. The timeline is also not the same as canon.. here saera only worked for one year i.e 85-86 in lys before going to volantis after a young maegyr was enticed.. Jaehaerys who kept an eye on saera saw his chance and mentally tortured maegyr until he had no choice but to marry saera. Jae did it because here jae actually don't hate Maegor and hence wanted to protect his daughters life. Too bad for jae, that the man he broke wanted revenge…. If Bessaro had not taken over, he would kill saera the moment old king croaked.
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