The Rise Of A Dragon - Chapter 20: Whispers of Treason

Tensions over Duskendale continue to rise.

Two Moons Later  

The chamber of Denys Darklyn was lit only by a single lantern set atop a heavy oak table; the windows were shuttered closed, the servants dismissed, and the door barred. The only sound that could be heard was the howling of the wind from outside. 

Denys Darklyn stood by the hearth, though the fire had long since burned out as he rubbed his temples tiredly, the light from the lantern casting shadows across his face. Across from him, seated at the table with a goblet of dark Arbor red in hand was Ser Symon Hollard, his oldest friend, his cousin by marriage, and his only confidant in this treacherous game they had begun. 

“I have received another letter.” Denys said at last, his voice low. 

Symon looked up, his eyes gleaming in the lantern light, “From King’s Landing?” 

Denys nodded and he produced a folded parchment from beneath his doublet. There was no noticeable seal on the front, nor was it signed, but they both knew who it had come from. 

Symon reached for the letter eagerly, breaking the seal without hesitation; his eyes reading over the words, and a slow smile crept across his lips. “It’s done, Tywin says the Small Council will not move without him. Even with the men and ships that have been gathered at our gates, he has convinced them not to move out of worry for the King’s safety. Do you see? We’ve already won, the longer we hold Aerys, the stronger our position becomes.” 

Denys turned to face him, “You think we’ve won? We are surrounded on all sides! At any moment, Tywin Lannister can decide to raze Duskendale and this very Keep to the ground.” 

Symon leaned back, sipping his wine, “And he will not, this is all a part of the plan, remember? This all began with a charter, Denys, rights for our city, for our people, and a way to curb the large cities who have continued to grow while choking life from lands like ours. What have we done but demand justice for centuries of being abused by bigger powers? Tywin sees the reason in that; he respects our need to claw above the muck that we have been placed under.” 

“Tywin has no respect for us.” Denys muttered, “He sees us as pawns, useful ones, for now. Why did I let you convince me of this? I knew that I should have refused his offer the moment Tywin had his little maester send us that raven when all this began.” 

“If we refused then we would be dead right now, once you had arrested the King, we were past the point of no return, aligning ourselves with the Lannisters was our only option if we wish to keep our heads.” 

“A point I only crossed because you and the rest of my men were too overzealous with your blades! If you had not killed Ser Gaunt, we would not be here needing to rely on a manipulative traitor to survive.” 

Symon was unphased by the glare that Denys was giving him, instead giving Denys one of his own, “Was I supposed to stand there while that disgrace to the white cloak had knocked you to the ground and was going to drag your wife away to do who knows what simply for pleading to a violent, ill-mannered King? I was defending you both! I was defending you, Denys, and I would do so again if I must, and I know that the others feel the same as I.” 

Denys walked towards his desk and sat down, burying his face in his hands, “He asks us to delay, that is all he says, time and again. No promises, no signatures, just sweet words and whispers. And now this…” 

All Denys could think was that Serala was right, that all they were doing was delaying their inevitable destruction, and Denys knew that having to rely on Tywin Lannister of all men was proof enough that they were playing a dangerous game. 

Is this truly worth it? Denys thought, but he also knew that he now had no choice but to hope that Tywin would keep his word. 

“Tywin hints at more than just a pardon and a charter for us, both of our houses will be given far more than we thought possible.” Symon said. 

“Riches for taking the King captive? Do you hear yourself, Symon? Honestly what could even be worth all of this for Tywin to have us do this?” 

“Do you not remember what happened at Prince Viserys’ tourney at Lannisport?” 

“When the King insulted Tywin and his daughter in front of all when Tywin suggested betrothing their children? Everyone has heard of…. Gods, he plans to…. With Rhaegar?” 

Seeing the shocked expression on his friend’s face, Symon leaned forward in his chair, “Has it become clear to you now? We hold the King, either he goes mad, or an accident befalls him, either way, Prince Rhaegar will be made to ascend to the throne in the end. Rhaegar is well liked by the people and is already showing to be far more responsible and dutiful than his father.” 

“And then what? The smallfolk cheer, the lords bow, and Tywin gives his daughter to the new King as a reward for his patience and loyalty while we are seen and remembered by history as traitors and fools at best and exterminated at worst?” Denys asked, his anxiety rising as he started to think about what the Hand might do to ensure that his daughter became Rhaegar’s Queen. 

“Not if we play this right, not if we hold our nerve.” Symon said, standing up and placing his hands on Denys’ desk, “We will not be remembered fondly, you are right about that, but Aerys has already begun to burn bridges with people, Tywin aligning with us is proving that to be true. The rest of Westeros has no knowledge of this plot, and Rhaegar has shown not to have his father’s temperament, if it is explained to Rhaegar what had happened and with Tywin’s promise of support, we will be pardoned, I know it.” 

Denys was not sure if he believed Symon, thinking that the man before him came across more as a someone desperately clinging a murky promise than someone who was completely sure of himself. And this only served to make the Lord feel even more anxious and scared than he already did. 

“Symon…” Denys groaned. 

“This is no longer about you and me, but about the fates of Duskendale and Everhand. It is too late to stop what has been put into motion, all we can do is see this plan through because it is the only option left available to us. You are our lord and liege; it is only because you remain composed and steadfast outside this room that our people have not given way to fear during these unknown times. We will not see this fall, for we are not just fighting for our own lives, but for those of every person who calls these lands their home.” 

He is right, I cannot continue to think of what could have been, it’s far too late for that. Both of our houses are in danger, and it is my responsibly to ensure our survival. Denys thought, forcing himself to think more like Symon, ignoring the part of his mind that sounded like his wife, that pleaded with him to change course. 

Denys knew that Serala would continue to maintain her distance from him; she had made it clear since the day they went to see Aerys in the dungeon that she did not agree with what he was doing. And he could imagine that her reaction would be far worse if she knew of Tywin’s involvement. 

Was it delusional to believe that they could escape this situation in a better position than how they entered it? If so, then Denys would try to maintain this delusion for as long as possible, if not for his people than for his own state of mind.

~X~

The Red Keep, King's Landing  

“Why are we not laying siege to Duskendale yet?” Lucerys Velaryon asked the question that most of the room was thinking of. 

The air in the small council chamber was tense, everyone’s attention now firmly on the Master of Ships and the Hand of the King. When the meeting had been called, it was under the assumption that further planning would be made to storm Duskendale and rescue Aerys. 

So, it was understandable why everyone was confused about Tywin issuing an order to not move forward with the assault, but to hold the line. 

Tywin slowly turned his head toward Lucerys, “We are not pressing forward because the King’s life hangs in the balance. As you know, Lord Lucerys, the Darklyns have refused to hand the King over, not until their demands have been met, and in their latest message, they were threatening to kill Aerys should our forces move against the town.” 

Lucerys glared at the other man, “So that is it? Are we supposed to just allow them to continue holding the King? Without action on our behalf?” 

Tywin gave no reaction, “If it means persevering the King’s life, then yes.” 

“Then why do we not simply give them their charter?” Rhaegar asked.

“Give them a charter?” Pycelle asked, just as confused as the other members of the council.

“The Darklyns want a charter, so we should give them one, then we should rescind the charter once the King is safely in our possession.” Rhaegar said calmly.

“We cannot give the Darklyns a city charter, otherwise we would be rewarding them for what they have done, it would be seen as a weakness on the part of the Crown.” Symond retorted. 

“The Crown already looks weak.” Aerea said aloud from her place behind the table. 

“Aerea.” Rhaella said admonishingly.

“It does; this council has allowed the Darklyns and the Hollards to hold the King captive for over four moons. Why should appearances matter now? If we do as Rhaegar says, then we will have the King back and there will be no more worries over keeping him safe.” Aerea said strongly, a frown resting on her face.

“I feel that the prince’s idea has merit.” Gurnar voiced, “It would be a bloodless way of retrieving King Aerys. And far faster than waiting for the Duskendale to run out of resources and give in.” 

“You also forget that the Darklyns and Hollards asked for total clemency for their crimes, Gurnar.” Qarlton retorted before turning towards Rhaegar, “My prince, such a plan will not work without the express promise of mercy, if they fear retaliation then they will not relent.”

Rhaegar frowned, “Then make the promise. Should we not do what is necessary to ensure success?”

“If a promise of mercy is made by this council and it is later broken, there would be those that would see the small council as oath breakers.” Rhaella told her son, “There is a social contract that exists between-”

“A contract that was broken when two of our vassals kidnapped the King and murdered a Kingsguard and a host of men.” Rhaegar argued, “If punishment is needed, terms can be furthered made, and only Lord Darklyn and Ser Symon Hollard will need to face it, for they are the masterminds of this plot.”

“And you believe that Denys Darklyn will agree to such a proposal?” Tywin asked, his eyes cold as he stared at the prince.

Rhaegar clenched his fists under the table, his suspicions of the Lord Hand rising with each passing day, “If it means protecting his people, then yes.”

“Not all men are as honorable and selfless as you believe them to be, my prince.” Tywin said, “And it must be acknowledged that any promises made by this council will surely be broken once the King is free.”

Everyone in the room could only imagine what Aerys would do once he was free and was given authority once again. And each knew that someone would be punished for what had happened as it was unlikely that Aerys would allow otherwise.

“If there are no other suggestions, then we will continue to blockade Duskendale and Everhand, and remind them why they should be continuing such a foolish endeavor.” Tywin said, glancing at each person sitting at the table.

The meeting lasted a few minutes longer before the Hand drew it to a close, allowing the councilors to leave. Once they were gone, only the three royals and Ser Barristan remained. 

“Ser Barristan, I would like a moment to speak to my children, could you excuse us?” Rhaella asked the knight. 

“I shall wait outside, Your Grace.” Barristan bowed, closing the chamber doors behind him as he exited. 

“Aerea.” Rhaella said, looking at her daughter with a serious expression on her face, “You should not have spoken out of turn as you did.” 

Aerea crossed her arms and looked down at the floor, “I apologize, mother, but it is frustrating knowing that nothing is being done to save father.” 

“Things are being done, but this is a complicated situation. Not everything can be solved with immediate violence, especially not when your father’s life hangs in the balance.” Rhaella explained. 

“And yet we sit here, a peaceful solution already given and is not taken because of the Hand.” Rhaegar said, immediately getting his mother and sister’s attention. 

Rhaella frowned as she turned to her son, “It is the responsibility of the Hand of the King to fill in the King’s role when the monarch is indisposed, Tywin is simply doing what he believes is right.” 

Rhaegar clasped his hands together and leaned back in his seat, a bitter smile gracing his beautiful face, “I have always thought it odd that the position of Hand made the man who wielded it second only to the King, being given authority in matters that supersedes even that of even the King’s heir and the rest of his family. Mayhaps, father was right about Tywin and his overreaching.”

“You know that your father is not right about that, Rhaegar.” Rhaella said before sighing, “I know that these are trying times for us, we are all worried about your father and the state of the Crownlands. And while the process may seem slow, everything is being done as quickly as possible to free your father. And there is nothing foul or treacherous being done by the men of the small council to hinder this.”

“And you truly believe that, mother?” Rhaegar asked. 

“Of course I do.” Rhaella replied, offended that Rhaegar would feel the need to ask. 

But Rhaegar and Aerea could both tell that their mother was not being entirely truthful, having long since become adept at finding Rhaella’s tells when she lied. 

Rhaegar stood, leaving the chamber without another word. Rhaella sighed as the door closed behind Rhaegar, a deep tiredness setting in her bones. 

“Rhaegar didn’t mean to rude.” Aerea said softly.

Rhaella smiled gently, but Aerea knew that Rhaella did not believe her in turn, making the irony of the moment feel particularly apparent. 

Rhaella stood from her seat, walking over to her daughter and kissed Aerea’s forehead, brushing a strand of hair away from Aerea's face as she did so. 

Aerea leaned into her mother’s touch and closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of Rhaella’s fingers moving through her hair. 

“Don’t grow older too quickly, my sweet. You’re far too young to try and force such responsibilities onto yourself.” Rhaella whispered. 

Aerea did not say anything as she hugged Rhaella, resting her head against the woman’s shoulder, feeling that her mother’s words were not just for her but were for her brother.

~X~

The Next Day  

After she finished in the training yard, Aerea found herself boredly walking through the Red Keep with nothing to do for the rest of the day. 

Rhaella was currently holding a gathering for the noble women of the Red Keep, and Aerea had no interest watching those women hide their sharp tongues and true feelings for each other behind veneers of kindness. 

How Rhaella was able to, always astounded Aerea, especially Aerea knew that Rhaella was a master of the game from the few times she had seen her mother in action. 

And Rhaegar had locked himself in the castle’s library since yesterday, only allowing his friends to exit and enter. Aerea did not know what her brother was doing, but Rhaegar would always spend more time in the library whenever he became melancholic or angry. 

I can’t be surprised that Rhaegar is avoiding most people, especially after yesterday's council meeting. Aerea thought. 

Eventually, Aerea found herself standing the ramparts of the Red Keep, leaning against the wall as she gazed at the rest of King’s Landing, her eyes soon stuck on the Gate of the Gods in the distance, and the Kingsroad beyond that. 

Every part of Aerea wanted to grab the nearest horse and ride straight for Duskendale, this urge growing stronger with each passing day. She wondered what had become of Aerys, if the Darklyns were treating him with at least some dignity as they held him prisoner. 

She also wondered if what Rhaegar had said was true, if this all just was one big plot courtesy of Tywin, Denys, and Symon to get rid of Aerys and replace him with Rhaegar. 

All for a charter and a crown. Tywin, Denys, Symon, they all have people they care about and who a dependent on them, why would they risk all of that just for something like that? Especially because who knows what father will do when...  

Aerea sighed, resting her arms along the wall and placing her head on top of them, frowning as she thought about just what Aerys, the unforgiving man that he was, would do once he was free. 

She hated how confusing everything was and felt, and she hated how it seemed that nothing was being done was enough. 

“Princess Aerea.” The girl in question nearly jumped out of her skin at the address, quickly turning around and seeing Tywin Lannister standing across from her. 

“Lord Tywin.” Aerea said, keeping her face blank. 

“Might I join you?” Tywin asked. 

“Of course.” Aerea said, looking at him from the corner of her eye, confused as to what the man was doing here and what he wanted with her. 

Aerea was not sure she had ever been alone with Tywin before this moment, finding hard to say anything to the man as she turned to look at the city once again, feeling the awkwardness with each passing moment. 

“I have heard that the prince had some opinions about the decisions that the small council has made regarding Duskendale.” Tywin said, not looking at the princess as he spoke. 

Aerea frowned, wondering if someone had been listening to the conversation, she, her brother, and her mother had in the small council chamber and relayed it to Tywin, or if Rhaegar’s feelings towards the matter were more than obvious. 

“If you take issue, you should be taking your concerns to my brother.” Aerea said with a glance. 

Tywin hummed, “Prince Rhaegar is hard to come by, locking himself away from others. And even harder to speak to when confronted.”

Aerea frowned, “Lord Tywin, what do you want from me? Is it to convince Rhaegar not to be so open with his worries and anger? If so, I cannot help you, my brother has his mind made up.”

“From what I remember, you also had issue with the council’s decision to wait, saying that the Crown looked weak in the eyes of the realm.”

“Is it not weakness to allow a lord to hold the King prisoner for so long?” Aerea asked.

“Searching every avenue of peace possible is not a weakness, jumping to immediate violence does not solve every problem.”

Aerea looked away from the Hand, “My mother said something similar.”

“The Queen is an intelligent woman.” Tywin said.

“I figured you of people would care about one is perceived.” Aerea muttered.

“And why would you think that?” Tywin asked, watching as Aerea realized that she had just spoken loud enough for him to hear her.

Aerea hesitated, refusing to look in Tywin’s direction but feeling his heavy gaze on the side of her face. “Before.... Before becoming Hand, you were famous for what you did to the Reynes and the Tarbecks during their rebellion.”

“You wish that would exterminate Houses Darklyn and Hollard? As I did with the Reynes and Tarbecks?” Tywin asked, his voice calm and his face expressionless.

“No!” Aerea exclaimed in horror, finally looking Tywin again and shivering at the cold look in his eyes, “I meant that... that when defiance was made by your vassals, action was taken to stop it. It is clear that the Darklyns and Hollards will refuse any terms outside of total amnesty, but to give into such demands would invite other lords to try and test the Crown’s authority.”

“And you believe that the blockade is not effective?”

Aerea frowned, “No, it is not. Even without their ability to trade and travel from sea and land, both Duskendale and Everhand have enough farmland within their borders, just enough access to the sea, and enough previsions stored away in the Dun Fort and Windshire to survive it. And with the high walls surrounding each town, they could withstand the blockade for the next few years before they start to run into trouble.” 

“I am surprised that you are well versed in the layout of Duskendale and Everhand.”

Aerea blushed at the appraisal she heard in Tywin’s voice, “A princess should be knowledgeable about the different lands of the realm. And it is not that impressive to know such things, plenty of towns across Westeros have the same features.”

“I am sure that there is much more that you know about the two towns than what you are telling me.” Tywin said. 

Why is he being so nice? Aerea thought, knowing that Tywin was not the kind of man to act in such a way with anyone.

“You are young.” Tywin said as he turned back towards the city, “The need to rush off to act is strong within you, ignoring the complexity of the situation. You believe that this can be easily solved, and that only those at the top will be punished.”

“Is it wrong to think so?” Aerea asked quietly.

Tywin paused for a moment, “What do you think your father will do when this is all said and done? How will he feel about any promises made to his captors in exchange for his release? How do you think the rest of the continent will react? These are the things that must be considered, every choice affects everything else.” 

“Are you saying these words to me or to Rhaegar?” Aerea asked, now sure that Tywin wished her to put an end to Rhaegar’s clear suspicion of him and his intentions. 

“I believe you have more sway over the Crown Prince than you realize.” Tywin said.

Aerea felt uncomfortable, especially as Tywin referred to her brother as ‘the Crown Prince’, seeing how pointed it was. And this did not help the now growing belief that Tywin truly did have something to do with her father’s continued imprisonment.

“I think you are overestimating what I am capable of.” Aerea said, resisting the urge to twitch.

“Am I?” Tywin asked, and Aerea could not describe the way he was looking at her for a few moments before he turned away. “I will leave you to your... gazing, Princess Aerea.”

Tywin gave Aerea a small bow of his head and walked away, Aerea shivered once he was gone, and she could have sworn that she could still feel the weight of his eyes upon her, examining everything about her.

What the hell was that? Aerea thought, groaning as she pressed her hand against the top of the wall, feeling like her conversation with Tywin had just aged her a few years. 

Is this how everyone feels when they talk to Tywin Lannister? If so, I don’t think I can do this again, my heart won’t be able to take it.  

Aerea also thought about what Tywin said about her and Rhaegar being naive in their belief that the situation at Duskendale could be solved as easily as thought it could be. 

Regardless, I should tell Rhaegar about Lord Tywin’s warning. Sometimes Aerea wished she was more oblivious to the things around her, that life would be easier for her that way. 

~X~

The room she was walking towards was once a wine cellar beneath the old granary, carved into the cliffside below the eastern bluff of Duskendale. 

Serala moved like a shadow through the cellar’s corridor, her cloak drawn high up to hide her face. A single iron lantern hung from a hook beside the door, and the faint murmurs within told her the others had already arrived. 

She pushed open the wooden door, the light inside was dim, thrown by two flickering candles placed in the center of an overturned crate that served as their table. Around it stood four others; their faces grim and their voices low, each waiting anxiously for Serala to arrive. 

“You came.” Lady Morella Darklyn said, her voice carrying a dangerous edge to it. 

Morella looked like her lordly nephew, carrying the same long face, dark eyes, and black hair as Denys, only she was slighter taller than Denys, her face aged with wrinkles, and her hair had streaks of grey mixed into it. 

“I always come.” Serala said, brushing back the hood of her cloak and closing the cellar door behind her. “Not that it has done much good.” 

The maester of the Dun Fort, Darric, sighed, his brow creased with worry, and clutching a sheaf of letters with his ink-stained fingers. “We’ve sent word to King’s Landing three times this moon alone, not a single raven returned, and no reply has been sent. We must... we must come to terms that our pleas will not be listened to by the council.” 

Ser Uthor Hollard, a thin and birdlike knight and distant cousin of the main branch of House Hollard clenched his fists in anger. “It’s the blockade, they’ve ringed us in so tightly not even wind escapes, and every man beyond our walls looks ready for war.” 

Both towns were being slowly suffocated by the blockade, and while they were far from starvation, it was clear that the restlessness and inability to leave was getting to everyone, and especially the smallfolk and the army waiting outside their borders. 

“It’s more than that.” Serala said quietly, folding her hands across her lap, “My letters to Myr haven’t reached my family either. My father and siblings would never ignore me, not for four moons. That… that is not the blockade, that is someone taking our letters.” 

The others fell silent, the realization settling heavily upon them. 

“We cannot go on like this.” Lord Theomund Darklyn, Denys’ youngest brother, said at last, his dark hair falling over his eyes. “Denys’ damn charter means nothing if we all burn right after it is written.” 

“We’ve tried.” Serala said, more harshly than she meant to. She exhaled slowly, smoothing the creases of her sleeve. “I have begged Denys to bend, to offer a release, even a softened demand. He refuses and speaks only with Symon on the matter.” 

Theomund let out a bitter laugh, “Madness, this is bloody madness. There will be no reward waiting for us at the end of this, and yet they both seem so confident that we will be.” 

“And yet we are the minority.” Uthor said, “I do not know what it is your brother and my cousin, but everyone around us has given them their full trust. It’s as if they refuse to see reason.” 

“And why would they? Then they would have to admit that the Lords of our houses and a damned good for nothing knight have doomed us. They prefer to remain oblivious and delude themselves with Denys, Symon, and Jon’s empty promises.” Morella said, scowling as she glared at the floor. 

“We must ask ourselves one question.” Serala said, “Not what we want to happen but what we must do to ensure we live when the council grows tired of my husband’s stubbornness and the army outside finally attacks.” 

“What can we do?” Uthor asked, “Overthrow Denys? No one would follow us, and the longer this goes on the less chance we have of getting out of this alive.” 

Silence fell over the group again, and Serala’s hands drifted to her stomach, a gesture so subtle no one noticed. As of late, Serala had been experiencing sickness in the morning, the tenderness, the blood that did not come were all clear signs of pregnancy. 

She had told no one of her condition yet, not even Denys, only Darric knew, being the one who confirmed that she was pregnant with her first child a week prior. 

Serala should have been happy, ecstatic to finally be with a child after years of marriage, but since she learned of her pregnancy, all she felt was dread. 

What am I bringing you into? Serala thought, not for the first time.  

A thick sense of doom had been seeping into every corridor of Duskendale no matter how much everyone tried to pretend. There was a good possibility that she would not live long enough to meet her child if everything took a turn for the worse. 

Denys, the man she had married, mild and kind, had become something else these last few moons. The moment he ordered his men to arrest Aerys, it was as if something had snapped in his mind, and he was now holding desperately to the only branch left before the flood swept him away and took the rest of them along with him. 

“I will not see my child born in a city under siege.” Serala said aloud, startling the others. Serala looked down at the candle flame before her, “If there is no path to peace... then we must find a path to survival. Whatever it costs.” 

She did not say the word escape, but the thought coiled in her belly like a snake. Far above, the bells of Duskendale rang out at the hour, and to Serala, it sounded slow, mournful, and hollow.