Disclaimer: This is a story based on ASOIAF Universe and all recognizable characters, plots belong to GRRM. I have no ownership to it.
Chapter 54: The Great Game X
The Red Keep
The Bastard King
Jaehaerys Targaryen woke with a sharp gasp as the nightmare ended in his own death, his other self torn apart by some vast, shapeless abomination. He was already sitting upright in bed when consciousness truly returned, his breath uneven as he stretched stiff limbs and let the remnants of the dream fade.
His thoughts lingered on the vision, and an old saying surfaced unbidden—dreams seen in the morning come true. He scoffed at it, dismissing the superstition with practiced ease. His death, he knew, would come from the slow certainty of age, not from monsters crawling out of darkness to consume him.
"At least I don't have to suffer the pains of old age because of Daemon's potions," he muttered as he summoned his servants to prepare him for the day.
As the monotonous routine of dressing began, Jaehaerys' mind drifted to the events of the past few weeks. Naming Daemon heir had been a tremendous success for both his House and his legacy. The wealth of House Targaryen had already increased with the confiscation of the Citadel, and traitors had been punished thoroughly and publicly. By now, nearly every lord—and even the smallfolk—had heard of the grey rats stealing from their pockets, stalling the realm's prosperity while pretending to serve it.
Even Jaehaerys had been impressed by the quality of the new songs spreading through taverns and courts alike, praising him for fifty years of peace—the first such stretch in the realm's history. Of course, the brief Dornish war and the burning of Myr had been conveniently forgotten.
Once dressed, Jaehaerys ordered food to break his fast. The meal had already been prepared, and he began to eat, savoring each bite. Since the meeting at Dragonstone, none of his family had come to him unless summoned, and he had ensured he did not call upon them without reason.
He was waiting for the formal announcement—from either Daemon or Gael—that they were with child.
Gael had attended every small council meeting thus far, and Jaehaerys had seen enough to be certain. The excessive protection surrounding her—the monstrous wolf and Lyanna Mormont constantly at her side—only confirmed his suspicion.
He had watched his family closely, and to his honest satisfaction, he was not disappointed. Once, he had doubted whether Rhaenys or Viserys might break the peace after his death, but now, seeing them both warned by fear and enticed by promises, Jaehaerys was fairly certain there would be no Dance of Dragons—at least not then.
Allowing and even facilitating Aegon's bonding with Vhagar had been a masterful move by his heir. For all purposes, Viserys was closer to his middle brother than to Aegon, and Daemon had ensured that both younger brothers would be well rewarded when he took the throne.
Jaehaerys had laughed aloud when he realized that Daemon had used the Dragonpit to discuss rewards, just as Jaehaerys himself had once used it to threaten Aemon and Baelon.
As he finished his meal, the doors to his chamber opened without a knock. Jaehaerys frowned, already preparing to scold the Kingsguard, when he saw who it was.
Daemon Snow. No—Daemon Targaryen.
Jaehaerys sighed in exasperation at the deliberate disrespect, yet ignored it with a faint smirk. In the end, he had won. Every action Daemon had taken since validated his foresight and wisdom as king. His pride must have shown, for Jaehaerys noticed Daemon's own smirk fade into a frown as he entered.
"Grandfather," Daemon acknowledged as he sat opposite the table, helping himself to several dishes and fruits. Finally, he took an apple, bit into it, and chewed slowly, savoring the taste.
"Daemon, what do I owe this sudden visit?" Jaehaerys asked at last, knowing his grandson was perfectly capable of finishing the entire meal in the table before ever starting the conversation.
Jaehaerys waited patiently as Daemon exaggeratedly chewed the second bite of the apple.
"My king," Daemon finally said, "I was being the respectful heir and thought it proper to greet you, seeing as you have not called upon any of us for some time."
Jaehaerys snorted loudly. "Then I must be young and hearty, grandson. Which I am not—and you are lying. Do not waste my time. You may be long-lived, but I am clearly not."
Daemon just smiled at that.
"Well, I know you have been observing our family, and I wanted your opinion. I know my kin only through distant observation and visions, so my calculations could be flawed. Did the carrot and stick work as intended? My conclusion is that it did, and there is almost no chance of rebellion once you die. What do you think, as a man who truly understands their minds?"
The king was genuinely surprised that his grandson sought his counsel.
"I agree with your assessment," Jaehaerys said decisively. "Both Rhaenys and Viserys are cowed by your display of power and consequences, and both accepted their rewards gladly. Unless you do something catastrophically foolish, they will not rebel after my death. Even if others provoke them, they know they would have to face you on dragonback—and they know that is simply suicide in another form."
Daemon smirked proudly. "Then, as usual, my planning triumphs."
"It does, my heir," Jaehaerys replied. "And it is not the only plan that has succeeded. Your effort to elevate Gael as the good queen is already bearing fruit. The orphanage alone has worked wonders, but turning the matter of your bastards into a public fight between you two—Gael flying to White Harbor herself to bring them back to her orphanage after they were abused as traitors' sons—was a masterstroke. Even I have not extracted such benefit from enemies in a long time, especially traitors like that father and son."
"Ah well, to be honest, half of the plan was actually your daughter's, not mine. I only wanted to kill them in front of my cousins. The public trial, sending a message to the realm, using the children—those were all her ideas. She is very good when needed," Daemon replied with a wistful smile.
Jaehaerys' eyes widened slightly in surprise, knowing it was Gael who had come up with such plans. He had never known his daughter had inherited his own intellect.
"That is my daughter, Daemon. You should never doubt her when she has my mind and cunning," the king said with a proud smile. "Also, grandson, aren't you worried about your bastards who have arrived in King's Landing and whom you've placed in important positions? One overseeing the construction of the new castle on Visenya's Hill for the administrative as well as educational complex you want. One overseeing the construction of the blacksmith furnace for your experiments regarding Valyrian steel. Two sent to the Citadel and two sent to Lord Tarly. One placed as assistant to the Master of King's Landing, Viserys. One placed as assistant to the Lord Commander of the City Watch, and one placed in the Kingsguard. You even took the eldest one as your—ah, what was it called—yes, personal manager. What if they become a danger to my daughter and future grandchildren?"
And Jaehaerys was not even being paranoid. The assistant to the City Watch commander was positioned to replace him in the future, and the personal manager handled errands for Daemon and stayed by his side whenever he appeared in public. Already, some had begun calling the manager the Left Hand of the Prince.
Daemon just scoffed. "Who do you take me for? King Aenys? All the bastard children who arrived were specifically selected by myself and Cregan for loyalty to us. They are grateful to have been raised by Winterfell and grateful to serve in any capacity. That they could rise in importance in the royal court is simply another benefit. They are all Northerners—and you have to see it to believe it. I think there is something in the air there that breeds loyalty to House Stark in most Northerners. Also, Fenrir is a great judge of character, as am I. One does not simply lie to me and get away with it, my king. The personal manager is very important; he helps me keep track of various tasks and allows me to be in two places at once. What he finds out, I will also find out. As for betrayal from Benjen, it will never happen as I chose him for two good reasons. First he practically worships me and two he can read, understand and manipulate people so good that even he is not realising it."
Jaehaerys remained stoic as he tried to understand how someone could judge truth with such confidence. Finally, he nodded, accepting the claim. In any case, it would not matter if betrayal happened in the future—he would be ashes by then. Still, Jaehaerys also had noted that Benjen Snow, the eldest after Lyanna here in King's Landing, showed an almost religious fervor and loyalty toward Daemon, just as Daemon claimed.
"I only warned you, Daemon. How it happens and the consequences are yours to bear," the king finally said. "And what of Lyanna Mormont? What do you plan to do with her? She is the only one who visits me regularly and has pleasant conversations with me now. I have half a mind to betroth her to Aegon and be done with it, Daemon. My Kingsguard tells me she beats them in the yard. Even after bonding with Vhagar, Aegon is far too meek for my liking. Marrying a spitfire like Lyanna would turn that fire into an inferno."
"Oh? Is that care and love I hear in your voice for your great-granddaughter, my king?" Daemon replied with a smirk. "I don't intend to do anything with her. She can marry whoever she wishes and stay here for as long as she wants. I don't think even I could survive a combined attack from her and Fenrir if I forced her into a marriage. As for Aegon, don't worry. His fire has been growing steadily and I am cultivating it, after all I need a very competent Dragonrider on top of Vhagar."
Jaehaerys nodded happily at that. "I am glad to hear it." He wanted to ask something else, but he was interrupted.
"Grandfather, I have dealt with our fucked-up family and secured your legacy by avoiding another Dance of the Dragons. You asked about my bastards, and my plans for them are nothing to worry about. So tell me—anything else I should know about our family? Any bastards of yours or my uncles running around? Or another secret, like you being the bastard of Maegor? Anything else I should deal with to make the start of my reign perfect?"
Jaehaerys immediately shook his head. "Nothing like that, my heir. I never slept with anyone other than Alysanne, so there are no bastards. Fortunately for us, even your father and your uncle Baelon were deeply loyal to their spouses. There are no other secrets regarding our fam—"
Jaehaerys paused mid-sentence as his thoughts drifted to his long-lost daughter. He sighed tiredly.
Daemon, who had been nodding in contentment, frowned. "So there is something that doesn't sit right with you. Come on. Tell me. What horrid thing have you done that will come back to bite me?"
Jaehaerys grimaced, but he replied. "It is about my beloved Saera."
"The whore?" Daemon asked promptly with a grin that vanished within shortly.
"Enough," Jaehaerys snapped, his mask breaking completely. "Do not ever call my daughter that again in front of me."
Daemon just shrugged and waved his hand. "Well, she did work in a whorehouse. Let's ignore the technicalities and get to the problem."
Jaehaerys ground his teeth in anger, but he chose to be productive rather than waste more time. "As you know, she married a Triarch of Volantis. It was not voluntary on his part," Jaehaerys finished with a gleam in his eyes, as if he had enjoyed whatever had happened immensely. He could see that even Daemon looked affected by the admission and his expression.
"You forced one of the leaders of Volantis to marry Saera instead of keeping her as a mistress?" Daemon asked with wary surprise. "How in the hell did you accomplish that?"
Jaehaerys merely smiled. "I used my dragonglass candle to enter the Triarch's mind and broke him until he agreed, all those years ago."
Daemon's eyes widened in surprise, as he understood the mechanics behind it. "That is not concerning at all, grandfather. You are not powerful enough to do that alone. What did you sacrifice to accomplish it? How much blood did you spill, and should I be worried about someone plotting revenge?"
The king scoffed. "Nothing like that, Daemon. It was during the time Balerion was sick and dying from the fire wyrms. His body was being eaten alive, and regular bloodletting as well as the release of pus was required to keep him as pain-free as possible. Why waste the blood? I used it."
Daemon nodded, knowing that Balerion's blood could easily be used to accomplish such a feat.
"Balerion died in 92 AC. It's been almost a decade now. How is she still alive when you couldn't visit even monthly?" Daemon asked curiously.
Jaehaerys scoffed again. "Who do you think I am? As long as I am alive, the Triarch will not dare to do anything to her. And even when I die, I doubt he will. It has been years, and they already have three children. I have kept an eye on them—they are content, and Saera is close to gaining unofficial control of Volantis' politics."
"I see," Daemon said with a frown. "So there are three unofficial Targaryens out there who could become potential troublemakers for my plans. What do you want me to do about Saera?"
Jaehaerys' smugness faded into a grimace as he closed his eyes and sighed in defeat. "I know you wouldn't follow what I want, and you would do what is easiest for you. So please—just try to keep her alive as long as possible."
Daemon nodded at the request without any gloating, and Jaehaerys finally opened his eyes with a slight shake of his head.
"Now," Jaehaerys asked, with no hint of defeat or sorrow in his voice, "Daemon, the lords have begun arriving to swear to you, and for the official tourney celebrating your marriage to Gael. Do you have any special plans or goals to accomplish?" he asked, a glint in his eyes about whatever chaos that could unfold.
Daemon closed his eyes in thought, then finally replied as he opened them. "Now is not the time for anything specific. Both the Baratheons and Arryns will be angry and disappointed. The Riverlands will be divided, while the Lannisters should remain neutral. I thought the Reach would be the most problematic, but my visit to Lord Tyrell—and the spanking I gave Hightower—has made many lords neutral toward me. There are no maester whispers in their ears, and even the murmurs of septons are ignored, as tax law has become a contagious issue, just as we intended. I only want this gathering to establish that House Targaryen stands united, and to show that both Gael and I are blessed by the gods."
Jaehaerys processed the entire summary and how the board had been laid out. He found no deviation from his own calculations and nodded at the appropriate points. By the end, the king looked intrigued.
"How do you plan to establish that?"
"That would be telling, my king," Daemon replied with a smirk. "However, there is one thing you must announce when all the lords are gathered—the next heir is already here. Gael is pregnant, and it is a blessing from all the gods, earned so fast only through her protection of bastards and homeless children in King's Landing."
The king laughed at that knowing there was blessing involved and finally nodded. "I would be very happy to announce that, Daemon. More Targaryens in the main line is the best thing possible."
"Oh, there will be many, my king," Daemon said with a snort of laughter. "You will be very happy when you watch us from the afterlife and see the number."
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The Wall
Cregan Snow could see the sheer awe on his brothers' faces as they looked up at the Wall from the lift at Castle Black. They had reached the castle three days ago, and the only reason they were allowed to stay was Lord Stark's letter and the supplies he had provided to the Wall. Cregan liked to believe that his own reputation, as well as their mount, had also played a part in allowing their stay.
He still remembered the moment he introduced his brothers to their new travel companion a couple of weeks ago.
"This is Lucy," Cregan said with an obvious grin as he wrestled with the intertwining trunk of his longtime friend.
"How?" Jon sputtered in clear shock.
The mammoth—named Lucy, of all things—was trying to ensnare Mountain with her trunk while trumpeting loudly. The brothers could see Mountain's face turning red as he strained to escape the mammoth's grip. Lucy was the biggest thing they had ever seen outside of their father's dragon when it had visited Winterfell.
To the amazement of the three brothers, it could not be said that Mountain was losing the unofficial contest of strength.
"So this is your companion in our quest?" Ned finally asked with a laugh seeing the tug of war.
"Aye," Mountain grunted as he finally escaped the entrapment of the trunk, while the mammoth merely snorted in mirth.
"Lucy, meet my idiot brothers who wanted to come with us to get revenge," Mountain said, patting the mammoth's trunk. Even at eight feet tall, Mountain only reached a little over half of Lucy's height.
To the brothers' surprise, Lucy carefully examined all three of them before finally raising her trunk with a soft trumpet in greeting. Ned saw Jon struggling to close his mouth in astonishment and finally raised his hand in an awkward wave.
"Er… hello, Lucy."
Mountain's thoughts were broken by the dangerous groan of machinery as the lift finally reached the top of the Wall. He and his brothers stepped out and saw the other side for the first time. Even though all four had witnessed the beauty of the North during their journey, the endless white and green stretching beyond the Wall mesmerized them. Their happiness and contentment faded as they remembered the true horrors hiding within that beautiful sight.
"How could such beauty hide such monsters?" Mountain whispered in awe, though his brothers heard him clearly.
"I don't know, brother," one of them replied. "Anyway, I can't wait to finally throw our bastard of a father out of my mind. I can feel that I'm quite close to matching his prowess, and the distance has also weakened him."
Mountain nodded. "I felt the same yesterday, brother. I thought that would be the day. But still, the bastard prevailed against me."
"It's frustrating how close we come, yet the bastard pulls out a victory at the last moment," Jon said with clear anger.
They all fell silent, reminiscing about their struggles and taking in the scenery, until Eddard finally spoke.
"It's been the same story for weeks now. What if we can never defeat him? We may have his blood, but we are not god-blessed."
"Enough of this pessimistic attitude," Mountain snapped. "I couldn't beat a warrior when I first started training either. I had to use my entire strength and train relentlessly before I could win. It's the same for all of us in the training yard with weapons. Why should it be any different with mental attacks? Daemon was younger than us when he survived a mental attack by the Night's King. We are children compared to his experience. Just like we improve in everything else, we will improve in this too, given time. We can wait—wildlings will still be there to kill a moon later." Mountain finished with a clenched fist and enough emotion that all three brothers raised their own fists in solidarity.
Suddenly, Jon's eyes widened, and his fist uncurled in shock.
"Wait," Jon snapped, his thoughts racing and his breathing quickening as if he had run a mile. The others turned toward him, startled, but waited for him to speak.
"Brothers, we all improve physically faster than most, right?" Jon finally asked, a gleam in his eyes.
After a moment's thought, all three nodded.
"What if the mind can also improve rapidly, just like physical strength?" Jon continued. "And where did we get this from? From our god-blessed father. The bastard has been improving three times faster than any of us because he's been pushing against all of us at once, while we only push against him. More than that, whatever abilities we have, his are far superior. That's why we always feel close to defeating him, yet he wins at the end. That motherfucking bastard tricked us, Mountain. He made the deal that we wouldn't cross until we win, knowing we never would—because he keeps improving constantly and faster than we ever could."
All three brothers, including Mountain, paled in the cold as they processed the realization. Within heartbeats, curses filled the air—anger and frustration at the cold truth.
"What can we do?" Ned asked with a weary sigh.
Suddenly, Mountain straightened. "The answer is simple, my brothers. We must train our minds against each other, not just against Daemon. We attack one another mentally before facing him, so our minds can catch up."
Jon scoffed. "How? We're not greenseers or dragon-dreaming or any of that shit. There's no way for us to attack minds."
Mountain smirked. "There is another method we are all proficient in—warging."
Ned immediately protested. "That's not possible, brother. The first thing I learned was never to warg into another human."
Mountain shrugged. "I heard the same from the warg who trained me, but my question is why? No reason was ever given. I'm fairly sure the rule exists because non-wargs—or weaker ones—were afraid of powerful wargs. Look at our bastard father. He's been accessing our minds every day, and nothing has happened. The end result is the same, even if the process is different."
The brothers exchanged looks, and finally Aemon spoke.
"Well, let's at least try it once. Otherwise, we'll never throw Daemon out of our minds—or fulfill his condition to go beyond the Wall."
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Author's Note: yeah, daemon is playing games within games in testing his sons before letting them ever crossing the wall. also it has been some time since we saw our favorite king, so his pov and finally daemon learned about saera and what jae did.. also if you remember our favourite faceless man leader/demon is in now possession of said triarch and no one has any idea about it.. so what is your view, did jae fucked up there or was it beyond his plans of torturing a poor slaver..
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