The Burnt Prince- GOT SI Ch.22 (Patreon)

Chapter 22

The Red Temple of Volantis was a marvel unlike any in the world. With Black walls gleaming in the ever-lit central flame and towers and buttresses merging into one another, it was a majestic sight to behold.

Yet this very tower was filled with only screams of agony, as its darkened floors and walls were dyed red, the red priests present in the temple slaughtered as some begged for mercy from their God, and some from those wielding the blades against them.

“Why? Why do you attack us?” Benerro, the high priest, questioned, his red robe heavy with blood littering across the raised platform where the bodies of other devout priests lay lifeless.

“Your temple has something of mine. Something taken from my family centuries ago,” the masked man answered as his sword screeched along the floor.

“The Egg,” the priest realized.

“Where is it?” the masked man, the one they had put to trial all those years ago, questioned.

“I do...”

“DO NOT LIE TO ME!” and the power radiating off of him, made Benerro shudder as the flames behind him rustled at that tone.

“WHERE IS THE DRAGON EGGG!”

“The Dragons are creatures of Fire, the egg belongs to us...” the Priest protested, as he felt the flames roar behind him.

The masked man, the one they had thought to be their savior, once, walked up to him, gripped him by his robes, and pulled him up as Benerro struggled in his grip.

“I will tear down every brick of this temple if I have to, but I will find that egg,” he threatened, and Benerro realized that he did not have the strength to push him away; his magics had already proven useless against him.

“R’hllor is our God. This is his temple, and you would dare anger the Fire God, the one who blesses us all with life. You desecrate his temple like this. DO YOU HAVE NO FEAR!” Benerro shouted.

“REPENT YOU HEATHEN AND MAYBE THE RED GOD SHALL SHOW YOU MERCY!”

“I am in need of his mercy,” and with that, Daemon pushed the man with all his might, throwing him into the raging pyre.

“Let’s see how you like a Trial of Fire for yourself,” and as the priest's screams filled the Temple, he turned away, ready to tear down this place brick by brick in search of a dragon egg.

And just as he had reached the stairs and begun his descent he felt the flames shift behind him as a crackling laugh began to erupt.

“HAHAHAHA.” Daemon turned and found the flames raging. Yet inside the flames, he saw the silhouette of a man standing, his eyes filled with nothing but fire.

“Such rage,” the voice continued, and he recognized it from all those years ago.

“Such bloodlust, yet I know why you spill so much blood. I know of how you worry over the life of one cursed through actions of your own,” he began, making him grip his sword more tightly.

“Yet alas, you are too late!”

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JAMIE LANNISTER

The Red Keep had changed a lot since King Aerys's death. Gone was the shadow of darkness, anger, and deceit that hung over the castle. Though Prince Daemon’s reign was just beginning, it was already clear to all that the Prince was not his father or his brother.

Despite it being nearly a moon since the end of the war, the Capital had seen little celebration as carts filled with tributes and statues made their way into the capital with the same carts filled with men headed to either the Wall or their own lands.

Yet the wounds from the war were beginning to heal, as peace was once more reached and the Seven Kingdoms stood together under the Targaryen banner once more, yet with different borders for the first time since Aegon’s conquest.

Jamie did not know what to think of Daemon’s actions, much like the rest of the court. The alteration of borders had many a House worried as it expanded the Crown’s influence, and with the state of affairs after the war, many feared that the Crown’s powers would only continue to increase with the influence and the powers of the Great Houses declining.

Yet all those worries for another time, as after many a week of toiling, teasing, and hard work Jamie found himself alone with his other half.

Cersei had come to court at their father’s orders, tasked with winning the favor of their new King yet Daemon Targaryen was stingy with his attention and had paid little heed to the cabal of maidens littering around him.

“Is this place safe?” she asked as he led her to the secret courtyard facing the Sea.

“No one will find us here,” he said. They reached the small courtyard, one which Arthur had shown him in his early days when he had found his oaths to be too much, found the screams and the wails to be too much, and so he would come here to sit and calm himself down lest he break his vows.

“I...” but his words were cut short as he felt Cersei’s lips crash onto his own, a feeling of guilt surged inside him at the wrongness of what he was about to do, at the oaths he was about to break, yet in that moment as he felt those hand around his face his mind pushed all those thoughts to the back of his mind.

“How long have I waited for this,” Cersei gasped as they separated, faces flushed under the moonlight as he felt her reach for the clasps of his armor before their mouths were joined once more. He felt her bite into his lip as he reached for the bindings of her gown and unraveled them in his heat. He pushed her away as his armor came off and fell to the ground with a clunk. Then he felt her reach for his breeches as he bit into her neck making her moan into the night as they both lost themselves to their lust, completely lost to the dark silhouette that appeared in the balcony above them.

.

.

.

.

And as they both lay there tired and empty huffing their clothes discarded to the side, lost in each other’s gaze a voice interrupted their late night tyrist.

“Now, what do we have here?” as soon as the voice reached his ears, Jamie Lannister stilled. He looked up and saw an all too familiar gaze locked onto himself and Cersei.

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ELIA MARTELL

Elia knew that she was unreasonable and getting angry at Daemon, especially after all he had done for them and for her. He was truly blameless in all this.

Yet her rage needed an outlet, her frustrations needed to be let out, and now, with the clouds of war and doom shedding, he had been the person she had lashed out at first. And now, the atmosphere in the castle had been tense as he tried to restore a semblance of order to the court and the kingdom as a whole.

She knew firsthand how he had not rested or relaxed for even a day since the end of the war, working day and night to form a Council doll out punishments and give out rewards. And she knew that she was not helping with this.

And as she kissed the head of her little girl, her little treasure, she realized that she should let go of her rage. And that just holding her two children in her arms was a blessing that had nearly gotten out of her hand.

Suddenly, though, she was broken out of her reverie by a knock on the door, and all her fears from moons ago resurfaced as she instinctively reached for a dagger on the table before realizing that she was in no danger.

Still, she gently skidded out of the bed and wrapped a cloak around herself. As she gently whispered.

“Who is it?” she asked, keeping her voice low enough not to disturb Rhaenys.

“My lady, there is someone here to see you,” and she frowned, finding the hour too late, but the guards beside her room were Daemon’s men, and she, despite her anger, trusted him enough not to put her in danger.

“Who is it?” she asked again.

“It is me, Lady Elia,” and she recognized that voice as a chill passed down her spine. The very voice which had haunted her dreams for many a moon.

“Come in,” she answered after a minute of thought, and the door to her room was opened gently as a cloaked figure entered the room alongside a guard.

She motioned for the guard to go back, leaving her alone with the cloaked figure.

And now she found herself face to face with the girl who had destroyed her life, destroyed her life, and started a war that had killed nearly twenty thousand men directly.

Yet as she stared at the haggard face of the Stark girl, she could see none of the wildness or the exotic beauty that had trapped many a lord at the tourney, including Rhaegar.

What she was a thin, lean and broken husk of a girl whose hollow eyes had seen enough sorrow for a lifetime.

She saw her clothes, and they were riding leathers. It seemed that she was set to leave.

“Why have you come here, Lady Lyanna?” she asked, her tone ice-cold.

She saw those grey eyes lower as she bit her lip.

“I know that you do not wish to see my face...”

“I do not,” she did not coat her words and saw a broken smile appear on the Stark girl who nodded.

“I know, but I had to see you before I was sent to my House arrest. Your grace has been generous enough to spare me a small manse outside the keep, for me and my child, away from the court and its intrigues so. It is much more than I could have asked for or deserve,” she answered.

“But before going there, I wished to see you...” and she looked up.

“...to apologize to you,” she said as she brought together her hands.

Elia turned away from her.

“And now you have, so go,” she scolded her angrily, shaking her head.

“I know that I do not deserve your forgiveness. The crimes I have committed against you and your children are something I will never be able to atone for. You must hate me, hold me guilty, and I do so too, I was blinded and had no idea of the consequences of what I was doing,” she pleaded while sobbing.

“I do not speak forgiveness for them, for that will be too much, but I do wish to assure you of one thing,” the Stark woman began.

“You, your honor, your family, and your children shall have nothing to fear from me or my son. The King was gracious enough to spare me my life and allow me to live with my child, and that is reward enough,” she said, and Elia did not say anything.

“That is all, Princess,” she added as Elia refused to say anything to her.

“Thank you for seeing me,” and with that she left the room with small steps and a hunched back, as Elia turned her face to follow her, a sense of pity erupting inside her.

Even now she knew that she had both enough power and influence to destroy what little remained of the northern woman’s life. Yet did she want to do that?

No. When she had first laid eyes on the woman, she had found her name ‘the winter rose’ quite appropriate, she was a young blooming flower with a hint of wild in her, coating a gentle and caring girl.

Yet she had been twisted and destroyed by the cruel machinations of the court. As for her crimes against herself and her family, she shared little blame. For Rhaegar was truly the person truly responsible for this.

And so, with gritted teeth, she tightened her robe and walked towards the door. When she opened it, she saw her turning around the corridor.

“Stop,” she called out, and the Stark girl stopped.

Both of them stood face to face as Elia gritted her teeth and began...

“I do not hate...” but before she could finish, the castle bell began to ring as guards rushed out towards both of them.

“My lady, we need you to go back to your room,” they said as they led both her and Lyanna to her room, and she asked worriedly.

“What is going on?” she asked, letting the Northern woman into her room.

“We do not know yet, but we will inform you as soon as we have an idea. Until then, bolt the doors and do not let anyone enter the room,” the guards closed off the door behind them as they rushed away, and Elia bolted the door, her chest heaving as she scanned the room and quickly reached for the dagger she had placed on the table beside her bed.

“May I ask what that bell was, Princess?” Lyanna Stark asked as she picked up the dagger and held it in her hands.

“I cannot say for sure...” she began.

“...but I believe it is a distress call often sounded in the event of an assassination attempt,” she answered and saw the girl’s eyes widen.

“Gods!” she gasped out as Elia found herself praying to the Seven above for Daemon, and so lost she was in her prayer that she missed as a child rose up from the bed and began to rub her eyes.

“Mother,” and she was broken out of her trance as she looked up and found Rhaenys awake and rubbing her eyes.

“What is going on, mother?” she asked, and her daughter seemed distressed.

“Nothing, my dear. Nothing,” she assured her as she rushed to her side, hiding the dagger in the pocket of the cloak as she took her in her arms and began to coo her, trying to get her back to bed, yet she saw Rhaenys eyes scan the room before they landed on Lyanna Stark.

“Who is that?” she asked.

“She is....” and Elia hesitated before she answered.

“..a friend of mine,” she decided on, and saw the northern woman’s expression soften.

“Friend, like Aunt Ashara,” Rhaenys spoke excitedly, and she nodded, her eyes dimming at the mention of that name.

“Yes, just like Ashara,” she answered.

KNOCK. KNOCK.

There was a knock on the door, and she perked up and gripped her dagger once more.

“Who is it?” she asked.

“It is me, Arthur,” came the reply, and she eased up slightly yet did not give up caution.

She gently pushed Rhaenys into Lyanna’s arm as she herself, walked to the door.

“Are you alone?” she asked.

“I am with your guards. There is no more danger,” he told her. She nodded as she unbolted the door and saw that it was indeed Arthur out there. She saw him look at Lyanna Stark and halt for a moment.

“What is going on?” her question broke him out of his trance.

“An attempt was made at the King’s life.”

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