A Question of Loyalty

Chapter XV

At long last, the dreaded day arrived, casting its foreboding shadow upon the entire city. It was a day that instilled fear in the hearts of all, a day where the path ahead would become steep, and your wrestling of emotions would commence anew.

During your fleeting tenure as Hand, you had gleaned wisdom regarding the weighty choices that must be made. Those decisions, whispered into the ears of the Realm, possessed a gravity always returns with even fiercer consequences.

Betrayal, once a palpable concept, now seemed enshrouded in ambiguity, its essence eluding your grasp. Family bonds had ceased to be a salve against its sting, for in the end, they only birthed disappointment, no matter the intentions that drove your actions.

Syrax, Caraxes, Seasmoke—a dragon of old—accompanied by an unfamiliar beast, emerged above the Capital. Their presence brought forth thunderous echoes, as if the very walls of Maegor Holdfast trembled under their might. Silhouetted against the ashen clouds, they cast an imposing sight upon all who beheld them.

"Have the treacherous bitches gone into hiding?" Came the thunderous voice of Daemon, as he made his entry into the castle. The sight of his dragon circling above took you aback, for he was expected to be distant from this place. It was then that the realization struck: a spy from within the Green Council had betrayed their plans, alerting his Uncle to the impending confrontation. A perfect scheme, you thought, but now your hope rested on avoiding suspicion. Yet within the labyrinthine chambers of your mind, you sought answers, searching for clues to untangle this intricate web.

What remained of the Council, alongside yourself, were led to the Throne Room, where you once again laid eyes upon her.

There she stood, once the embodiment of the Realm's Delight, garbed in a black scaled armor that seemed to have been forged from the very hide of the Black Dread. A sense of unfamiliarity emanated from her, a bitterness intermingled with indifference. But when her gaze met yours, the world ceased its tumultuous dance, freezing.

Her countenance now carried the weight of weariness, the burden of her station etched upon her eyes, despite the distance that separated you.

In that instant, memories surged forth, from the day she was named heir to the throne by King Viserys. One by one, the subjects had knelt, swearing their fealty to their future queen.

On that day, she had strived to maintain composure, a fleeting smile gracing her lips when her father uttered the words that would lead her to this very moment. But she was no longer a child, and neither were you.

The throne embraced her, yet her unease within its grasp was evident. It was her birthright, and you had schemed and conspired to wrest it away. You had succeeded, lending your counsel to her adversaries since the day you chose to remain within these walls.

The Black Queen found herself unable to divert her gaze from you, and you, in turn, found yourself unable to tear your eyes away from her. In her presence, your previous endeavors faded into obscurity, the mental notes you had so carefully composed fading into blankness. Emotions surged within you that left you adrift, unsure of how to react in this newfound proximity. All that was left was a cacophony of feelings.

On the opposite side of the room stood your lover, the Green Queen, her heart throbbing with an indescribable ache. Not only was her rival here to claim the throne for her son, but she had also come to reclaim the chambers of your heart once more.

Many of the Lords found themselves imprisoned, confined within the dungeons, including Maester Orwyle. Some were captured before they could flee. Alicent's brother, once 'destined' to be your betrothed, met his end at the blade of the Queen's Lord Commander, Ser Luthor. Lord Wylde's head fell for the crime of treason, and a dozen more shared his fate. Only Otto was spared, having been absent when the Queen arrived, but his ultimate destiny remained the same. Haleana was confined to her chambers, treated with the dignity her position warranted, without violence or indignity. Larys, the elusive rat that he was, had managed to vanish into the shadows. This fueled your suspicions, intensifying the belief that he had alerted Prince Daemon. And finally, the young King had vanished without a trace. None within the Red Keep held the faintest inkling of his whereabouts, but a nagging sense whispered that he had received substantial aid, and that every aspect had been orchestrated in advance, should such a situation arise.