Chapter 16: Ashes of a Dynasty, Seeds of a Serpent's Reign
The days following the fall of King Aerys and the brutal sack of his capital were a disorienting fugue of blood, fear, and the nascent, chaotic birth pangs of a new reign. The Red Keep, once a symbol of Targaryen power, now echoed with the heavy tread of rebel soldiers, its tapestries stained, its treasures looted, its ancient stones bearing silent witness to the savage transition. For Voldedort, cloaked in the stoic grief and unwavering honor of Eddard Stark, it was a period of intense activity, a delicate dance of public duty and private machination.
Restoring order to King's Landing was the immediate, overwhelming priority. The city was a powder keg. Lannister soldiers, drunk on victory and plunder, still roamed many districts, their crimson cloaks a terrifying reminder of the recent atrocities. The populace, cowed and starving, huddled in their ravaged homes or sought refuge in overflowing septs, their fear a palpable miasma hanging over the city. The stench of death and uncollected refuse was pervasive.
Voldedort, alongside a visibly disgusted Jon Arryn and a reluctant, often hungover Robert Baratheon (who seemed to find the administrative burdens of kingship far less appealing than the battlefield glories), threw his Northern forces into the breach. Stark men, with their grim discipline and reputation for fairness, became a common sight patrolling the streets, establishing order, distributing what meager food supplies could be found, and, pointedly, disarming and confining the more egregious Lannister marauders. This act, while earning Voldedort the quiet gratitude of the common folk and the grudging respect of Jon Arryn, also created a simmering tension with Tywin Lannister's forces, a tension Voldedort noted with cold satisfaction. Division amongst his "allies" could be most useful.
"Your Northmen are… diligent, Lord Stark," Tywin Lannister himself remarked, his voice devoid of inflection, during one tense council meeting. The Lord of Casterly Rock had established himself in a suite of commandeered chambers within the Red Keep, his authority already a palpable force. "Perhaps too diligent in interfering with the… disciplinary actions of my own men."
Voldedort met Tywin's cold, golden-flecked gaze without flinching. Eddard Stark's honor demanded no less. "My men restore order, Lord Tywin, where order has been so brutally broken. They protect the innocent, a duty I believe all honorable commanders share. The Sack of King's Landing was a stain. I will not see it compounded."
Tywin's lips thinned, but he offered no direct rebuke. He knew Eddard Stark's reputation, his influence with Robert and Jon Arryn. For now, he would tolerate the implied criticism. But Voldedort registered the silent challenge, the clash of two powerful, ruthless wills, one cloaked in honor, the other in pragmatic ambition.
A significant portion of Voldedort's attention was devoted to the investigation – or rather, the carefully managed perception of an investigation – into the murders of Princess Elia Martell and her children, Rhaenys and Aegon. Publicly, as Eddard Stark, he was the voice of righteous fury, demanding justice for the slain innocents. He personally visited Maegor's Holdfast, the scene of the horrific crime, his face a mask of cold, Stark anger. The brutality was undeniable – Elia, raped and murdered; young Rhaenys, stabbed countless times; the infant Aegon, his head dashed against a wall. Eddard's soul recoiled, a wave of genuine horror and pity washing through Voldedort's assimilated consciousness.
Voldemort, however, processed the scene with a different kind of focus. He noted the identities of the perpetrators, already widely whispered: Ser Gregor Clegane, Tywin Lannister's monstrous bannerman, and Ser Amory Lorch. He instructed his most trusted Stark guards – men like Hallis Mollen and Jacks – to discreetly gather any testimonies, any overlooked evidence. His goal was not merely justice, a concept he found laughably naive, but leverage. The Martells of Dorne, Elia's family, would be incandescent with rage. This atrocity could be used to sow decades of enmity between Dorne and the Lannisters, weakening two powerful houses and creating opportunities for a third, more subtle power to exploit.
He also used his greensight in Maegor's Holdfast, hoping for some echo, some residue of the events. He saw only flashes of brutal, mundane violence, the terrified screams of the victims, the savage grunts of their killers. There was no high magic here, only the basest cruelty of men. Yet, the political fallout would be immense. He made sure that detailed, if carefully selected, accounts of the murders reached Jon Arryn, knowing the Hand-presumptive would be appalled and would counsel Robert towards some form of redress, further straining relations with Tywin Lannister.
The fate of Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer, was another immediate point of contention. He remained under guard in the Red Keep, a figure of both infamy and, for some, a strange sort of heroism. Robert Baratheon, his initial contempt warring with a grudging acknowledgement that Jaime had, in fact, slain the tyrant, was inclined to be lenient, especially given Tywin's newfound allegiance.
"The boy broke his oath, aye," Robert grumbled in council. "But he killed Aerys! Saved us all a bloody siege, likely saved the city from being turned into a cinder! What's to be done with him? Can't execute Tywin's son after he's just bent the knee, can we?"
Jon Arryn was deeply troubled. "An oathbreaker on such a scale… it sets a terrible precedent, Robert. The Kingsguard vows are sacred. If they can be so easily discarded…"
Voldedort, as Eddard Stark, took a predictably hard line, at least publicly. "He swore an oath before gods and men, Lord Arryn. He wore the white cloak. He slew the king he was sworn to defend. There must be a reckoning. Justice demands it." Eddard's belief in the sanctity of oaths was absolute.
Privately, Voldemort was far more pragmatic. Jaime Lannister was a superb swordsman, young, arrogant, and now, utterly unmoored from his former loyalties. Such a man could be a powerful tool, or a dangerous rogue element. His act of regicide, while anathema to Eddard, was, from Voldemort's perspective, a demonstration of a certain… ruthlessness and willingness to defy convention that he could appreciate.
Tywin Lannister, naturally, fought tooth and nail to protect his son. He argued that Jaime had acted to prevent a greater catastrophe, that Aerys's madness had nullified any oaths. He offered veiled threats about the consequences of harming his heir.
Voldedort observed these machinations with keen interest. He allowed Eddard's persona to argue passionately for Jaime to be stripped of his white cloak and sent to the Wall, a traditional Stark punishment for oathbreakers and criminals. This satisfied Eddard's sense of justice while also being a fate Tywin would find intolerable, thus prolonging the conflict and deepening the rifts. Voldemort knew Jaime would never actually go to the Wall; Robert, influenced by Tywin's pragmatism and his own desire to consolidate power quickly, would find a way to pardon him. But the debate itself, the highlighting of Lannister perfidy, served Voldedort's purpose.
Ultimately, as Voldemort anticipated, Robert, with Jon Arryn's reluctant acquiescence, chose a path of political expediency. Jaime Lannister was pardoned for his crime, in light of his "service" in dispatching the Mad King and preventing the destruction of the city. He was, however, dismissed from the Kingsguard, a small concession to the outrage his actions had provoked. Voldedort noted Jaime's reaction to this – a flicker of contempt, a sneer quickly suppressed. The Kingslayer was unrepentant, and therefore, still potentially useful or dangerous.
Amidst the political maneuvering and the grim realities of occupying a ravaged city, Voldedort pursued his own, secret agenda: the acquisition of magical knowledge. The Red Keep, a repository of Targaryen history spanning nearly three centuries, was a potential treasure trove. He commandeered a suite of chambers for himself, ostensibly for his duties as a leading commander, but also as a private space for study and… experimentation.
His first target was the royal library. While many valuable tomes had undoubtedly been looted or destroyed during the sack, he hoped some ancient or obscure texts might have survived. He tasked some of his more literate Northern household guards, under the guise of securing important historical documents for Lord Arryn, to begin sifting through the chaos. He gave them specific, seemingly innocuous, instructions: look for anything related to Valyrian history, dragonlore, ancient prophecies, or texts on unusual natural phenomena.
He also made a personal, discreet exploration of Aerys's private chambers and Rhaegar's former apartments within Maegor's Holdfast. The Mad King's rooms were a disturbing testament to his paranoia, filled with strange trinkets, half-burned scrolls, and the lingering scent of fear and decay. Voldedort found little of magical value, only the detritus of a broken mind.
Rhaegar's chambers, however, were more promising. While his main collection of scrolls had been captured at the Trident, Voldedort suspected some personal items might remain. Using subtle, wandless detection spells when he was certain he was unobserved, he located a hidden compartment beneath a loose floorboard. Inside, he found a slim, leather-bound journal, written in Rhaegar's elegant script.
His heart – or rather, the cold, calculating core of his being – gave a predatory thrum. This was precisely what he had hoped for.
Later that night, by the light of a heavily curtained lamp, Voldedort devoured the contents of Rhaegar's journal. It was not a diary of daily events, but a record of the Prince's thoughts, his interpretations of prophecies, his agonizing over his perceived destiny. The "dragon has three heads" motif was central, as were his fears about the Long Night and the return of the Others. He wrote of his desperate search for the Prince That Was Promised, his initial belief that he himself was that figure, then his growing conviction that it must be his son, Aegon.
There were also oblique references to Lyanna Stark. Rhaegar wrote of her wild beauty, her Northern spirit, her shared interest in ancient songs and prophecies. He spoke of a "pact," of a "song of ice and fire," of a desperate gamble to fulfill a destiny he believed essential for the survival of the world. There was no mention of abduction or rape; instead, the journal hinted at a far more complex, perhaps even consensual, relationship, born of shared belief and a desperate attempt to avert a prophesied doom.
Voldedort processed this with keen interest. If Rhaegar had not abducted Lyanna, if she had gone with him willingly, it changed the entire narrative of the rebellion. It also meant Lyanna might possess knowledge, perhaps even a child, that could be of immense significance. The Tower of Joy, where Eddard's memories placed her, suddenly loomed even larger in Voldedort's calculations.
The journal also contained Rhaegar's terrified understanding of his father's descent into madness and his growing obsession with wildfire. It confirmed Voldedort's suspicions: Aerys had indeed planned to burn King's Landing to the ground, to "be reborn as a dragon" amidst the flames. Jaime Lannister's act, it seemed, had indeed saved the city. This information, Voldedort knew, could be used to further manipulate perceptions of the Kingslayer, should the need arise.
His exploration extended to the Alchemists' Guildhall, or what remained of it after the sack. He went under the pretext of ensuring all remaining wildfire caches were secured and neutralized, a task Eddard Stark would certainly undertake. He met with the surviving pyromancers, ancient, secretive men who reeked of strange chemicals. He questioned them, his voice carrying Eddard's authority but his eyes holding a far deeper, more unsettling curiosity. He learned of the sheer, terrifying quantity of wildfire still hidden beneath the city, in forgotten tunnels and deep cellars. He also made careful inquiries about its creation, its properties, the "substance" as they called it. The pyromancers were guarded, their knowledge sworn to secrecy, but Voldedort, with his own profound understanding of alchemy and potions, was able to glean enough to understand that wildfire was a potent, if volatile, magical concoction, its creation a complex and dangerous art. He even managed to… acquire a small, carefully sealed sample, for future study. Such a substance, if controlled, could be a devastating weapon.
The political machinations for the new regime were constant and intense. Robert Baratheon, despite his grief and his newfound taste for wine and women, was eager to be crowned. Jon Arryn, as the elder statesman and Robert's foster father, was the natural choice for Hand of the King, a role he accepted with weary resignation. The composition of the Small Council was a matter of fierce debate, with various lords jockeying for position and influence.
Voldedort, as Eddard Stark, played his part with consummate skill. He projected an image of a man uninterested in personal power, concerned only with justice, the welfare of the North, and the stability of the realm. This very disinterest made him a powerful voice. When Robert, in a fit of generosity or political calculation, offered him a prominent position on the Small Council – perhaps Master of Laws or even Master of Ships – Voldedort politely declined.
"My place is in the North, Your Grace," he said, using Robert's new title. "Winter is coming, as my house words remind us. I must return to my people, to rebuild what has been broken, to ensure the strength and security of the Northern borders." This was perfectly in keeping with Eddard Stark's known character. It also served Voldemort's purpose: he had no desire to be tied down by the tedious administrative duties of a southern court. His power base was the North, its ancient magic, its fierce loyalty. From there, he could manipulate events in the south far more effectively than if he were enmeshed in its petty intrigues.
He did, however, ensure that men loyal to him, or at least sympathetic to Northern interests and beholden to him for their positions, were considered for key roles. He subtly championed certain Vale lords known for their integrity (and their loyalty to Jon Arryn, who in turn trusted Eddard), and even some Riverlords who had proven their worth.
The issue of Lyanna Stark remained at the forefront of "Eddard's" public concerns. He pressed Robert and Jon Arryn daily for news, for action. "Rhaegar is dead," he would say, his voice tight with controlled emotion. "But my sister… where is she? Is she safe? I must go to her."
This provided the perfect pretext for Voldedort to eventually leave King's Landing and pursue his own objectives, including the investigation of the Tower of Joy and whatever secrets it held. Robert, still consumed by a mixture of guilt and possessive grief over Lyanna, readily agreed that Eddard should lead a force to find her as soon as the situation in the capital was stabilized.
News from the North arrived sporadically. Benjen, under Maester Walyskan's guidance, was managing Winterfell adequately, though he was clearly overwhelmed. The refortification of Moat Cailin continued. Randyll Tarly and the other high-value prisoners had been successfully transported north, now securely imprisoned. This was good; they were useful bargaining chips, or perhaps, future subjects for more… intensive interrogation regarding the Reach's resources and magical lore.
As the immediate chaos in King's Landing began to subside, replaced by the more ordered, if still deeply corrupt, business of establishing a new government, Voldedort felt the shift in the currents of power. Robert's coronation was being planned, a grand affair designed to legitimize his reign. But the foundations of that reign were built on blood, treachery, and uneasy alliances.
Voldedort stood on the battlements of the Red Keep one evening, looking out over the sprawling, wounded city as dusk settled. The ashes of the Targaryen dynasty were still warm. But from those ashes, new powers were rising. The lion of Lannister was ascendant, its claws already deeply embedded in the new regime. The falcon of Arryn sought to guide the stag, to build a just peace. The trout of Tully swam in troubled, opportunistic waters.
And the wolf of Stark, the quiet, honorable Eddard, was now a figure of immense moral authority, a hero of the rebellion, a trusted friend to the new King. None suspected the serpent coiled within, its cold, ancient eyes watching, waiting, its dark designs unfurling with patient, inexorable precision.
The plans for Robert's coronation were finalized. Jon Arryn would be Hand. Key council positions were filled. And Eddard Stark, his duty in the capital seemingly done, was granted leave to take a company of his own men and ride south, to Dorne, to the place where Rhaegar had supposedly kept Lyanna hidden – the Tower of Joy.
It was the moment Voldedort had been waiting for. The capital, with its intrigues and its limitations, had served its purpose. Now, the true quest for power, for the ancient magic that underpinned this world, could begin in earnest. The Tower of Joy, he sensed, held more secrets than just a missing sister. It might hold the key to Rhaegar's prophecies, to the song of ice and fire, perhaps even to the return of dragons.
The serpent was leaving the shadow of the Red Keep, not to retreat, but to hunt. And its fangs were sharp.