Chapter 37
VALARR TARGARYEN
A silence gripped the Red Keep as Valarr found himself pacing outside the King's chambers. His father lay inside fighting for his life, as the Spring Sickness that had already swallowed up his own father now came for the Breakspear.
As a son it was his duty to be by his side in this moment, but Valarr was more than just a son. No. He was the Prince and heir to the throne, and so he was forbidden from going into that room where his own father lay on the bed fighting for his life.
The Maesters said that they were doing all they could do to save him but Valarr knew better. The Spring Sickness was brutal in its death, and had swallowed up young men in the time it took for the Sun to set once.
The City itself was in a somber mood, and was in a storm's grasp. The skies were filled with thick black clouds, and water rained down on the city with a vengeance. Valarr had not seen such a storm in his life, and as he gazed at the city being washed by the rainwater he prayed to the Gods above to spare his father.
"The city has not seen such a storm in decades," a familiar voice spoke up from behind him, breaking him out of his trance.
He turned around to see, Lord Brynden Rivers standing behind him. The Master of Whispers was quite a controversial man in the capital, and though he had only one red eye on his face, few things in the realm escaped his eyes.
He was one of King Aegon's Great Bastards, and though the realm had little love for bastards, King Aegon had legitimised them all with his last breath and caused a great havoc. Many had advised the King Daeron to kill them all, but Daeron the Good had offered them mercy and friendship.
But he was betrayed for it, and though the Blackfyre rebellion may have ended, Valarr knew well that the threat of the Black Dragon was not yet truly over. Beyond the Sea, Daemon's sons were still alive plotting their revenge along with Daegon with Bittersteel whose hate for his family was dwarfed only by his hate for the man in front of him.
"In all my life I have never seen the skies so angry," and he did not doubt that, for he could not remember when he had seen a storm like this before.
"What brings you here, Lord Brynden?" and the man looked him in the eye, as he passed him a missive.
"This came from the Iron Islands some time ago," and usually the King would be offered such news, but with his father fighting for his life, all of his burdens now fell onto Valarr as the Hand and the heir.
But his own burdens were shared by his brother who was fighting a war for the Iron Throne in the Iron Islands. He had left behind his newly wed wife to fight that war, all so that the Crown would not lose face.
So, with a younger brother like that Valarr could carry his burdens as well.
"Dagon Greyjoy is dead," Brynden Rivers told him, as he hurriedly unfurled the missive, and that was joyous news for with Dagon dead, they had just won the war.
"So, the war is over," Valarr asked, and he was rather desperate for any hopeful news. But despite it seemingly like the very news he had sought, Brynden Rivers seemed rather troubled.
"This one is," and he found his answer strange yet, his mood began to make much sense as he read the report from his brother, and the sight he had witnessed in the Great Hall of Pyke.
The content of the missive was so absurd that he read it a second time just to be certain of the contents.
"Blackfyre," he whispered as he ground his teeth, and it could all be a lie from a dying man to exact his revenge, but Matarys seemed to believe his word.
"Tell me this is not true?" he asked, and the silence of Master of Whispers was answer enough.
"So, it is true?" he questioned, and the red eyed man gave him a nod.
"I have had my suspicions about the Blacfyres hatching a plot for some time now. This just confirms it," and so they were set to face another war, and he could not help but glance towards his father's chambers.
"Your father has already fought his war, my Prince. This is your war. Yours," and his fist balled up at that, as he realised the truth in his words.
"You are right," Valarr spoke with conviction.
"This is my war," and he would have to fight it himself.
"So, the Black Dragon has returned to these lands," and the Master of Whispers lowered his head in shame.
"Perhaps?" and he did not have an answer for him.
"You are not certain yet?" Valarr asked.
"The Spring Sickness incited great chaos all over the realm, and your father charged me to do all I could to help the realm see through this challenge. In my efforts to see us through this realm, these plots against the Crown have somehow escaped my sight," and for a man as proud as him to accept his own failings.
"So even a thousand eyes and one are not enough to watch over the entire realm?" and Lord Brynden nodded with a small smile.
"I am afraid you are right," yet he had his suspicions.
"But you have been suspecting this?" Valarr asked, and the man nodded.
"For some time now," Brynden Rivers answered as he came and stood besides him, and reached into his pocket to take out one of his brother's little inventions.
These were some herbs he had imported from Qarth, to cultivate in his lands. A servant rushed forward with a lamp, and Brynden Rivers lit one of the ends with it and began to inhale the smoke.
"I became suspicious when I began looking into all the slander surrounding your brother," and it was no secret now the Lord Brynden Rivers held his brother in great regard.
The whole realm knew that Matarys had no greater ally at court than Lord Brynden Rivers, and that badmouthing the young Prince was tantamount to making an enemy out of the Bloodraven.
Many even whispered how the Bloodraven plotted to have Matarys replace Valarr on the throne, and that his own troubles with his children were a product of his magical dabblings even though Valarr believed none of this.
"The incident at Ashford was a tragedy, and the blow to your brother's fame was expected. But the truth is that the amount of slander that he faced seemed unnatural to me," and now Valarr was listening closely.
"He may have killed Maekar, but it was Aerion who caused the incident in the first place yet there was no mention of him. No. All the whispers blamed Matarys, and even during the Spring Sickness," and his words made sense as Valarr thought about all that he had witnessed.
"I was the one who gave the order to burn the dead. I was the one who enforced it, yet somehow my actions were attributed to your brother and his name was tarnished once more even as he did more to save lives than any other person alive," and grain, soap, lye and spirits had been flowing out of New Haven for two years now, and at a cost which was nearly three times less than that of other lands.
The only reason they were not forced into rationing right now was because his brother kept grain flowing into the capital through his own granaries and yet all he received in return for his service was slander.
"So, you are saying that this was Blackfyre's doing?" and Lord Brynden nodded.
"I suspect as much," and Valarr rubbed his chin as he thought about it.
"But why him?" he asked, and he saw Lord Brynden hesitate.
"Say what is on your mind, Lord Brynden," he commanded, and he knew well how the man favored Matarys to him.
"Because he is special," and Valarr had long come to accept that, and rather than being envious of him. He was proud of his brother and for all that he stood for.
"Because he is the best of us," he repeated, and the words did not pain him.
"A few years ago, your brother was perhaps the most popular person of the Royal Family. He was loved by everyone, and many within the realm held him up as the Symbol of chivalry and all the Goodness that the Royal Family had to offer," and he was not blind to his brother's fame.
"But these incidents have tarnished that, and through him they have tarnished the Royal family as well," and that made some sense.
"Who would even think of doing such a thing?" Valarr asked, and Brynden was quick to answer.
"Bittersteel," he replied, and Valarr eyes widened at the mention of that name.
"Aegor Rivers," and that was another of King Aegon's Great Bastards, one whose rivalry with the Bloodraven was famous all over the realm. One had Braken blood running through his veins and the other Blackwood, the two of them were born to go against each other.
"How can you be so certain?" he asked for the last he had heard the man was in Essos, along with the rest of the Blackfyre progeny.
"The Curse," lord Bryden whispered as he exhaled out a large plumule of smoke from his mouth, and the 'cigerette' was now half gone.
"What of it?" he asked, and his heart sank as he heard those words.
"It's not real is it?" he asked, and the silence made his eyes widen.
"Answer me, Lord Brynden," he spoke loudly now, and felt the guards and the servants all turn towards them.
"While the real may think of me as some master of Magics and such, my knowledge of these matters is introductory at best. All I know was imparted onto me by someone else, and I am afraid I was not the one who had an interest in the subject," and it took him a second to understand the implication of those words.
"Aegor Rivers," he guessed, and Lord Bloodraven nodded.
"Our blood truly is cursed. It was as if our rivalry is ordained by the Gods themselves," and there was pain in how he, spoke of him.
"Both of us loved the same person, and became interested in magic because of her. All that I know of magic came from her, and I can say the same for Aegor," and so his heart sank.
"So, the curse is real?" he asked, and Brynden Rivers shook his head.
"I cannot say....," but just then another voice cut through the silence.
"But I can," and Valarr's head snapped towards the source, and he found himself looking at the woman who had beguiled both Aegor and Brynden in their youth. A woman who was considered by many to be the symbol of beauty itself, and whose mismatched eyes were similar to his own.
"Shiera," Brynden whispered from the side but she was looking into his eyes.
"The curse," she began, as she raised her hand to reveal another letter.
"I am afraid it is real...."
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