Fire and Blood

Chapter 124: Fate Can Be Cruel

Red Keep ― Small Council chambers...

Otto Hightower sat at the head of the long table in the small council chamber. As the Hand of the King, it was his responsibility to oversee the realm's affairs in the king's absence. The weight of the Seven Kingdoms rested on his shoulders while Aeonar was away, and he knew that every decision he made would have far-reaching consequences. However, as the meeting progressed, Otto became increasingly overwhelmed by the sheer volume of reports flooding in from every corner of the realm. The Seven Kingdoms were vast, and each region had unique challenges and concerns. The reports painted a complex and often grim picture from the North, ravaged by the arrival of winter and threats beyond the Wall, to the Reach, where the most fertile region in the realm was embroiled in political intrigue and routing the remnants of the Caltrops. Otto prioritized these reports to discern which issues required immediate attention and which could be delegated to others. However, the constant influx of information made it difficult for him to focus.

"The reports coming in are staggering," William Royce said, his face contorted with a mix of dismay and disbelief as he read them. The figures and statistics presented within were disturbing, leaving him uncertain about what to do next. He couldn't help but wonder how such a situation had arisen and what could be done to prevent it from happening again.

"The realm would tear itself apart if men do not remember the oaths sworn to King Viserys, and to his rightful heir," Jacaerys informed. After losing his dragon Vermax at the Battle of the Gullet, he would remain in King's Landing to learn the ways of Velaryon sailing. He was learning from experienced men such as his legal paternal grandfather, Lord Corlys, and his cousin's best friend, Ser Alyn of Hull. Although he was inexperienced with Driftmark's ways and had not been raised on the island, he had much to learn. Despite this, Jace pays attention and comes out like the little dragon that he is. "However, I agree that what I see here is... unsettling. It's as if my uncle will not stop until he has the head of every traitor or those he suspects of treason mounted on a spike."

"More than that, young prince," Farrier stated. "I've learned that His Grace executed Beatrice before he departed for battle-not by the King's Justice... but rather by wildfire."

"Wildfire?"

"A highly volatile substance invented by these pyromancers called 'wisdoms' that allegedly can burn for a long time once set on fire. Not many details have been made public, but there's a rumor that wildfire is a distant cousin to dragonflame. The substance burns so hot that not even water can put it out."

"How were we not informed about all this?" Corlys demanded.

"Information regarding recent events must be verified before this council is informed, Lord Corlys. And with the current pace of this war, my agents are stretched too thin."

"That's not execution... it's cold-blooded murder," Jacaerys uttered in disbelief.

"What happened to Prince Daeron was murder, horrid as it is," Farrier reminded the youth. "I believe the words His Grace used after Beatrice met her end was 'Plot against the king, and I will pay it back a hundred times over.'"

Rhaenyra occupied the seat at the opposite side of the council table, seated beside her son. Syrax was at a suitable size for battle, yet any remaining dragonriders were assigned to protect the capital in case the war reached its gates. The Blacks were determined to emerge victorious in this war, but even Rhaenyra couldn't ignore the fact that her relationship with her brother had soured significantly. She discerned a significant shift in her brother's demeanor during the past year, which was not for the better. In fact, it steadily got worse with each passing day the longer the Dance of Dragons dragged on. The Dance had taken its toll on both sides of the conflict. The bloodshed and loss had left scars that ran deep, not only on the physical landscape but also on the hearts and minds of those involved. "I fear what Aeonar has become," she said silently under her breath. The once close bond between her and her brother, Aeonar, once believed to have been repaired after many years of estrangement, had soured significantly since Daeron was killed, poisoned by the bitter taste of suspicion and resentment from the former.