House of The Dragon:The Rise of the Emperor of the Seven Kingdoms

Chapter 145: Chapter 144 – Before the Great Council of King’s Landing (I)

King’s Landing, Red Keep.

Gael watched the servants coming and going quickly; the atmosphere in the castle was tense. Moments before, the king had fainted on the Iron Throne. When she heard the news, she quickly made her way to her father’s chambers.

The two royal guards at the door did not stop the princess from entering. They only looked at her with concern and made way.

When Gael entered the room, she smelled medicinal herbs, but not milk of the poppy. That eased one of her worries. It was not something involving pain. That was great news for her.

“I suppose even the beggars in the city already know I fainted.” Jaehaerys, who was already awake, looked at his daughter and grumbled.

“What happened?” Gael asked, looking at Grand Maester Allar. The old man stood beside the bed with an expression as tired as the king’s.

“The king worked so hard he forgot to rest properly. ” Allar answered in a trembling, hoarse tone. Gael worried the man might die while speaking.

After learning the reason, Gael looked at her father with a reproachful gaze. “Father, you need to take better care of yourself; the realm is in your hands, and we are at war. We cannot lose you over mere work.”

Jaehaerys looked at his daughter, stunned, and could not help but see Alysanne’s shadow overlapping with Gael. How many times had he heard similar words from Alysanne?

“I know, I will take better care of myself.” Faced with his daughter’s furious eyes, Jaehaerys spoke in an irritated tone, as if he were a child apologizing.

However, despite saying he would take better care of himself, the king frowned, feeling the weakness in his body. It was not only the work that made him faint, but also his body. It was not the first time he had felt so tired or even had difficulty breathing.

Thinking of something, Jaehaerys’s face showed a calm expression. His time was running out; it was perhaps uncertain that he would survive to see the arrival of the next year.

But he could not die, not now, not when his heir had not yet been chosen. Turning his gaze to Gael, Jaehaerys said something that shocked everyone present.

“Gael, take control of King’s Landing in my name and act as regent.”

“At the same time, send a letter to Maekar and Viserys; tell them both to come to King’s Landing.”

“The date of the Great Council will change; it will be on the last moon of this year.”

Jaehaerys’s string of words made Gael’s eyes widen; she looked at her father completely in disbelief. As Jaehaerys’s daughter, how could she not know her father’s chauvinistic personality? Hearing from him that he wanted her to be regent was even more shocking than moving up the Great Council.

“Don’t look at me as if I were a monster.” Seeing his daughter’s disbelieving expression, Jaehaerys showed a displeased expression. “I have been following your progress at Harrenhal; you did very well while running the castle.”

Had it been before, Jaehaerys would not have made Gael regent in his place, but after the events of the loss of his son and the destruction of House Bracken, he saw a strong woman, forged in pain, who could make proper decisions. And, though he disliked the comparison, she was a strong woman, as Visenya once was.

“I will not disappoint you.” Gael looked at her father and spoke in a solemn tone.

At the same time, Gael was thinking that, if Viserys were chosen as king, she would take control of King’s Landing and help Maekar become king, even if it meant usurping the throne.

If Jaehaerys knew Gael’s thoughts, he might wish to bang his head against the wall.

Stepstones, Bloodstone.

Watching the Dornish army before him, Mors narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. He smelled conspiracy in the air. Countless hungry eyes watched him from the shadows, like snakes ready to strike at any moment.

Turning to look at the girl dressed in armor with fluttering yellow scarves, Mors knew the conspirator was his niece. Unlike her father, who was a madman, the girl had taken after her mother, a bitch he had enjoyed poisoning to death.

As soon as Morion’s death reached Sunspear, Mors did not hesitate to act and killed Mara’s mother. When the woman died, she left behind only a helpless child as heir to Sunspear.

However, Mors did not know where the betrayal would come from or even what the plan was. But instead of making him nervous, the dangerous situation only made him calmer than ever. There was not a trace of fear or nervousness in him.

As a master of conspiracy, he knew better than anyone that fear or nervousness were utterly useless in the face of an enemy’s plans.

Suddenly, while Mors was thinking deeply, screams were heard in the middle of the camp. Mors, together with his personal guards, walked to the spot and narrowed his eyes. He watched Lord Darill Vaith pull his sword from Lord Ian Toland’s body.

“He dared insult my house; he deserves to die. ” Mors heard Darill shout as he looked around at everyone with a fierce expression.

Seeing the scene, Mors understood that the conspiracy had officially arrived. At the same time, he understood Mara’s intention in orchestrating this whole show.

Lord Ian Toland was one of the most loyal lords faithful to him, as well as one of the most fervent against House Targaryen.

During the Dragon’s Wrath, when Aegon and Visenya burned Dorne for two whole years, Ghost Hill was one of the targets of Balerion and Vhagar. Along with the murder of Lady Toland, it could be said there was no house that hated the Targaryens more than House Toland.

“Stop!!!” Despite his thoughts, Mors quickly stepped in front of Darill and shouted loudly at the Lord of House Vaith of the Red Dunes.

“He insulted my house and called me a traitor; everyone around can bear witness that every contemptible word came out of that vile, dishonest man’s mouth.” Darill showed a cold expression and spoke in a tone full of hostility.

Mors did not doubt that Ian had said those words, especially in front of everyone. Ian had never been the most patient man in the world, especially if provoked beforehand.

“Lord Vaith, if every uttered insult resulted in death, we would all have to die in some duel.” Mors looked coldly at Darill.

“So what?” Darill looked at Mors with indifference; he showed a cold smile and asked, “Do I or do I not have the sacred right to defend my house’s honor?”

Looking at Ian’s lifeless body below him, Mors remained calm and looked at Darill. “I am not denying your right to defend yourself, but don’t you think the sentence outweighed the cause? You should have brought this accusation to Princess Mara before anything else.”

“If we can kill each other over mere insults, we might as well act without laws, Lord Vaith.” Mors concluded, and the lords around nodded in agreement. If there are no laws, there will be chaos. And chaos is not conducive to the survival of noble houses.

“It seems anger clouded my judgment,” Darill was about to reply when the gigantic, serpentine red dragon landed on the ground with a loud, thunderous sound. Caraxes lowered himself to ground level, allowing Daemon to dismount.

“What is going on?” Daemon touched Dark Sister with his left hand and asked, looking at the corpse on the ground.

Mors approached the prince and told him everything that had happened, making Daemon look at Darill and then at Mara, not far off.

‘As expected, Maekar’s rats are everywhere. This is getting irritating, especially at this moment. It will be good to weaken Maekar’s cause in Dorne,’ Daemon thought, looking at the scene with a cold smile.

“On your knees, Lord Vaith.” Daemon said with a cold face. Caraxes, beside Daemon, fixed his red eyes on Darill. The dragon’s enormous head bared teeth larger than daggers; along with horns and a cruel grin, it looked like a demon.

Faced with the dragon and the Targaryen prince, Darill looked at Mara for a moment and knelt before Daemon.

“We are at war; any private duel is strictly forbidden.” Daemon spoke in a cold tone, drawing Dark Sister from its sheath. The blade showed wavy patterns like wisps of smoke; it was dark gray, almost black.

“As supreme commander of the battlefield, I am charging Lord Darill Vaith of the Red Dunes with spreading chaos in a time of war. How do you plead, Lord Vaith?” Daemon asked in a calm tone, looking at Darill with a hint of expectation.

“I plead guilty, your grace.” Knowing Daemon’s plans, Darill gave Daemon no reason to kill him and pleaded guilty. He showed no fear, only faced Daemon with a calm, indifferent look.

A trace of displeasure appeared on Daemon’s face. He had hoped the Dornish lords would be tougher and more unyielding, but that did not seem to be the case.

“My prince.” At that moment, Mara approached; she wore light metal armor beneath the fluttering yellow fabric. She looked at Darill with a reassuring gaze and looked at Daemon with a calm gaze.

“Lord Darill had his judgment and reason clouded by anger. No one can remain indifferent when another accuses him of cowardice and calls his noble house treacherous scum. Even so, what Lord Darill did was wrong, not right.”

Mara’s words made the lords around nod in agreement with her. If a man cannot defend himself, is he still considered a man?

Daemon looked at Mara with a sarcastic look. The woman certainly knew how to speak. However, her words still made him realize that, if he killed Darill to avenge Ian Toland, he would cause disorder in the army.

Still, he was not a man who liked to sheathe Dark Sister without tasting his enemies’ blood.

Just as Daemon was about to cut off one of Darill’s hands, the prince heard the voice of his older brother, Viserys.

“Daemon, a letter has arrived from King’s Landing!”

Daemon stopped what he was doing and looked at Viserys, who approached with a solemn expression. He knew this was a serious matter.

“The king has fallen ill and made Princess Gael regent. At the same time, he moved up the Great Council. I must reach King’s Landing as soon as possible.” Viserys said in a tone that was both solemn and sad.

Daemon raised an eyebrow on hearing that Jaehaerys had fallen ill. He showed a touch of pleasure at the news; the phantom pain in his right arm reminded him every day that Jaehaerys had allowed Maekar to cut off his arm.

Yes, he knew he was only alive because of Jaehaerys, but that did not mean he should feel grateful. Men could be irrational; he was no different.

So, Daemon was quite pleased with the news of the Old King’s illness.

“Let’s leave without delay.” Daemon said, looking at Caraxes and then at Viserys. “I hope you haven’t forgotten what it feels like to fly on a dragon, brother.”

“Never.” Viserys replied with a smile, remembering the few times he had ridden Balerion, the Black Dread.

Daemon ignored Mara and looked at Mors. “As you heard, we have to go back to King’s Landing. You will stay in Bloodstone and protect the island. If Tyrosh or any other foreign piece of shit attacks, hold out and send a raven to the Red Keep asking for help.”

Mors frowned. Daemon’s and Viserys’s departure was a major problem for his plans. But, as Daemon had said, there was no way to refuse the return to King’s Landing.

“Yes, my prince,” Mors said.

——–

Read my other books:

House of The Dragon:The Rise of the Emperor of the Seven Kingdoms

Game Of Thrones: The God-Emperor of Planetos

Percy Jackson: Godwyn the Golden.

Game Of Thrones: The King’s Court Wizard