Chapter 19
Back in the capital, a rather busy Brynden Rivers stood staring out the window as his paramour, Shiera, bit into an apple sullenly.
"You called me here, and yet you offer me no attention," she began coyly, as the Great Bastard's eyes shifted as he turned to face the pale beauty sitting behind him.
"Is this a new ploy, my dear?" she teased, and usually such a thing would have drawn a witty reply from the man, yet his mood remained sour.
"There is trouble at Ashford," he whispered, and Shiera frowned as he lazily leaned back, not asking how he knew of trouble so far away.
"So be it. Baelor and Maekar are there. They will handle it," and for some reason, Brynden doubted that.
"It concerns Matarys," and this was not the first time Shiera had heard that name from his mouth.
"You care much for that boy," and she had never questioned it until today, but she was feeling rather brave.
"You even sent along your precious Raven's Teeth to help him in his war, even though I know how possessive you are over your precious little army," and the Raven's Teeth were three hundred longbowmen, which were personally trained by Brynden himself.
They were a formidable force, and Brynden was rather possessive over them, except that some two years ago, he had sent half of them to the Red Mountains of Dorne under the command of a naive young knight.
"Why?" she asked, as she stared into that sole red eye of his, and yet, much to her surprise, he did not answer, but rather than being offended, she was intrigued.
"Secrecy! Now you are making me jealous," she said teasingly, as those mismatched eyes narrowed.
"I just might invite him to my bed to see if he truly is matchless as they call him," and for the first time, a smile crept up on his face.
"The only fool to fall for your guile is me, my dear. That boy is no fool," and now that was a challenge.
"All boys are fools, and I doubt he is any different," and she had half the capital chasing her skirt, and she really doubted that a young boy would be any different.
"Oh! But he is," and there was a genuine spark in that eye of his.
"Such trust, while the boy himself is said to be rather unfond of you," and he chuckled.
"Indeed, but that is nothing more than a false apprehension that I intend to clear soon," he added.
"You still have not told me what makes him so special?" she asked again, and she would have her answer today. He saw through her resolve as he sat down and answered.
"Well, I cannot give you the truth for I remain unaware of it myself, but I know this," and he was being very serious right now, more serious than he had ever been with her.
"After the fall of Dragons, he is the salvation for our House...."
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BAELOR TARGARYEN
In the end, both he and Maekar failed to force Matarys to change his mind. They both knew what an impossible task it was, for he had inherited their stubbornness. Neither Aerion, nor Matarys were willing to back down, and soon enough it would be time for the trial itself.
They gathered in the Hall for one final discussion, as Aerion scoffed as he looked between him and his father.
"Are you really going to let him do it?" he asked, and the lack of remorse or guilt from him made Baelor grind his teeth.
"Shut up!" and he was not the only one.
"Do you have any idea how much trouble you are in, boy!" Maekar raged at his son, as Aerion simply shrugged as he continued to eat grapes.
"I killed a whore, so what! These smallfolk whores die every day," and before either of them could say anything, Baelor's son chose to intervene as he stood there beside the gate's doors sipping his wine.
"She was not a whore!" Matarys raged, and Maekar turned to face him as he stood near the fireplace.
"But she is not your kin either! Aerion is!" and Matarys met his brother's gaze.
"You knighted me yourself and made me swear an oath to protect the innocent, and now you will have me turn my back on that very oath?" he asked, and Maekar's face contorted.
"Do not speak to me of oaths, boy!" Maekar raged.
"Aerion was wrong in what he did, but will you truly spill Royal blood because of a...." and as his brother halted to search for a word, Aerion chose to intervene.
"Whore!" Aerion added, and the glass shot out of Matarys's hands in a blur, as Aerion shifted his head to avoid it.
CLANK!
The bronze hit the wall hard and fell to the floor.
"Whore! Whore! Whore! Do you truly understand what you are saying?" Matarys raged, and before Baelor could intervene.
"Just because you have royal blood, that means you can kill anyone you want! Hours have passed since you slew an innocent woman, and yet you tell me you haven't even thought about the consequences of your actions even once!" Matarys raged.
"HAVE YOU FELT ANY GUILT! ANY REMORSE! ANYTHING AT ALL YOU BASTARD!" and he saw the Kingsguard shift as Matarys began walking towards the table, as Aerion's face paled.
"Those clothes you wear, those grapes you eat, that wine you drink! Tell me who paid for that!" Matarys questioned, and this was what Aerion failed to understand.
Indeed, they were of Royal blood, but the small folk were not truly insignificant. They were the sheep, and the lord their shepherd.
"THEY DID! THE SMALL FOLK DID!" and this was the concept of noblesse oblige, and something that his son had understood even from a very young age. His actions and behaviors represented that.
"The men who die in our wars. The levies we rely on when our enemies come for our heads! They are sons and daughters born out of these wombs! Yet you sit here, and joke around as if you have killed cattle," and Aerion was nervous, and no one in the room dared to stop Matarys.
This rage. This display of anger. It was unusual for him.
"Your father once charged me to be just, and to protect the innocent, and I shall do it today, even if it forces me to bear arms against my own kin," and with that, he turned towards him.
"For it takes greater courage to stand against one's family than it does to stand against an enemy," and Maekar gulped nervously, as his son made his stance rather clear.
For many seconds, there was nothing but silence, as Maekar turned and sat himself down beside him. He saw his brother look towards Matarys with an expression filled with pride and lament.
"Exile," he broke the silence in a shattered tone as Aerion's head snapped towards his own father.
"Aerion will withdraw all the allegations and bow down and seek forgiveness from the girl's family. We shall pay them blood money and then some for their troubles, and he would be sent away to Free Cities for five years," Maekar offered, and even he was surprised by the offer.
"I refuse!" Aerion was the first to intervene.
"I will not bow my head in front of some commoner filth!"
"SHUT UP!" Maeakar shouted as he glared at his son.
"I will not deny his wrongness," Maekar added weakly as he turned towards Matarys.
"But you and I both know that this judgment is harsher than any would dare give," and he saw Matarys close his eyes, as Baelor chose to intervene.
"Years ago, my brother did not just charge you to be just," Baelor added.
"He charged you to be kind as well," he reminded him of the other oath he had sworn.
"Show him some of that kindness," and he saw his lips thin before he sighed.
"So be it, but only if the accus..."
"I REFUSE!" and Aerion was on his feet now.
"I WILL NOT BOW DOWN MY HEAD JUST TO PLEASE HIS PRIDE!" the boy raged as he pointed his finger towards Matarys.
"Sit down, Aerion," Maekar commanded.
"NO!" he was adamant.
"I EXPECTED THIS OF UNCLE, FOR HE IS HIS FATHER, BUT YOU! I EXPECTED BETTER OF YOU, FATHER! BUT I SHOULDN'T HAVE!" he added mockingly.
"Not really, after all, he has always been your favored son while the rest of us were nothing but disappointments," and by now the commotion had brought new guests to the room, as the doors swung open. Lord Ashford and his castellan walked into the room along with the accused and his eldest son.
"I have made my decision!" Maekar countered.
"I do not accept it," Aerion remained defiant, as he looked at the accused, and Baelor felt his heart leap in his chest as he saw madness in those eyes.
"I DEMAND A TRIAL OF THE SEVEN!"
And there was absolute silence in the room at that.
"A trial of the Seven?" Maekar questioned as he turned towards him, as Baelor closed his eyes in pure desperation, hoping that Aerion would take back those words.
"What is this trial of the Seven?" Maekar asked again, and he knew that he had to answer.
"It is another form of trial by combat," he answered as he shook his head in defeat.
"Ancient. Often invoked. It came across the Seven Seas with the Andals," and Maekar was frowning now.
"The Andals believed that if seven warriors from each side were to fight instead of one, then the Gods may be more likely to intervene," Maekar finished the explanation, and that was the gist of it.
"The last person to invoke this was Ser Damon Morrigen, when he challenged Maegor the Cruel during his reign," and Aerion chuckled.
"You do know your histories cousin," and Maekar was on his feet now.
"I will not stand for this farce," he raged at his son, who refused to accept his command.
"I will do as I wish, that is my right," and Maekar ground his teeth as he looked between Matarys and his son, with utter shame and defeat.
"The Gods truly have cursed me...."
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