Chapter 38
ALICENT HIGHTOWER
A few days after she had discussed with Rhaenyra the prospect of a Grand Council, she found herself summoned to her father's solar one simple morning, and felt her life unravel as he ordered her to leave the capital.
"What?" she asked, taken aback by his words as her father looked up from his missive again.
"I said that you need to gather your belongings. You will be leaving Kingslanding in a few days," and she could not believe her ears.
"I can't leave," and she was a friend and companion to the Princess herself, and without her, Rhaenyra would be absolutely alone.
"You can, and you will," her father seemed resolute in his decision, when it had been he who had first asked her to foster a friendship with the Princess. Yet now he was asking her to forsake that very friendship, and she did not have the heart to do that. Not when she had just promised Rhaenyra to be there for her.
"Why?" she asked indignantly, as her father's lips thinned before he finally put away his quill and leaned forward.
"The King's health has taken a turn for the worse," and the words made her heart still. As the implication of those words dawned on her, she felt her body turn cold, as she felt her worst fears take form in front of her.
"How?" she asked, and her father had no answer for her.
"We do not yet know. Prince Baelon has been ill for some time now, and the change in his health is not entirely unexpected. The Maesters and the Healers have been warning of such a thing for some time now," and though it had been but rumors, it was obvious to her what lay next when the King would draw his last breath.
"War," she murmured, and the Master of Laws nodded in approval.
"Somehow Prince Daemon has gotten wind of his father's plans," and that explained her father's command from earlier.
"There are reports that he is carrying out a purge within the Gold Cloaks, keeping only the men most loyal to him in the force. The Gold Cloaks are his creatures through and through, and his intentions with them are rather obvious," for the Prince intended to defy the King's orders for a Grand Council and take the throne for himself.
Yet if he intended to do that.
"What of Rhaenyra?" she asked, and her father's lips thinned.
"I have counselled the Princess many a time that she be allowed to leave with you for Old Town, and yet they remain unconvinced, for doing so would be like confirming all of the rumors surrounding the King's intentions," and she felt her heart ache in pain at that.
"That is idiotic," for if the Prince was indeed making changes within the Gold Cloaks, then he was already aware of the Kings' intentions.
"Be that as it may, the Princess Aemma still holds some of her husband's affections for the Rogue Princes and refuses to see reason. But most of us at court see the truth that Daemon is no different than Maegor," and that name had been a taboo within these Halls for decades now, and yet for the last few moons she had begun to hear it more and more in whispers.
"But what of the Grand Council?" she asked, for if the King were to call a Grand Council, then they could avoid this conflict altogether.
"Letters have been drafted, yet the King remains hesitant in sending them away," and she frowned at that, failing to see the reason behind the delay.
"But why?"
"Because despite all of his misgivings, Prince Daemon is still the King's son," and her eyes fell to the table, as her fists balled up in frustration.
"The King knows he is dying. He knows what a grand Council would do to his family, and so he hesitates, hoping—praying that a solution shows itself," but such hope was futile.
War was brewing within the city, and the King's weakness would cost them all just as it had all those years ago.
"That is why you must leave the city at once," and he picked up his quill again.
"If the worst is to happen, then the city will no longer be safe for those of us who see Prince Daemon for who he is," and she could understand his reason, but she did not have the heart to leave Rhaenyra alone in all this.
"I can't," she whispered back.
"What?" her father asked.
"I said I cannot leave the city," she answered back resolutely. Her defiance took her father by surprise.
"I am not asking you for your permission," and she knew that it would irk, but she had to stay, not for herself but for Rhaenyra.
"I made a promise to Rhaenyra not to leave her like this. I will not go back on my words," she answered resolutely, and her father shook his head as he raged at her.
"The Princess has Royal Blood coursing through her veins, blood that shall protect her from the worst of Daemon's tendencies, but you and I both know that the Rogue Prince holds no sympathy for my family or me," and their rivalry at court was known to all.
"You know of his intentions with Rhaenyra. I cannot leave her alone to face it all by herself," she pleaded, but her father was unmoved.
"I am her only friend," she tried to change his mind.
"You are also my only daughter," he countered.
"I do not have the heart to see you harmed. I tried to delay this for as long as I could, but your mother has been pleading with me for many moons now to send you back to Old Town, and I believe it is time to heed her words," and Alicent loved her mother, yet she was a woman grown now.
"You were friends with him," she added, hoping to make him see reason.
"Prince Viserys. You called him a friend, and now you would abandon his daughter to face the likes of Daemon all by herself," she retorted, as her father's face morphed with guilt.
"Gods know I have no desire to see her harmed, but her mother refuses to see reason. If it were up to me, I would send you both away," and he was out of his seat as he came and stood beside her, as he gently laid a hand on her shoulder and continued in a sad but calm tone.
"But my hands are tied, so I must act as your father and guardian and protect you from the dangers ahead as best as I can," and she sympathised with him, but her mind was made up.
If the fates had cursed Rhaenyra with suffering, then she would suffer right beside her. She would not abandon her. Yet amidst all this, there was but one hope for them all.
One person who could do the impossible, and perhaps save their King from the shadow of the Stranger.
"What of the Healer? Could he not help the King? When will he arrive?" and she saw guilt and remorse flash through that gaze as he answered.
"He will arrive by the end of the week," and that was earlier than she had hoped, but given that he had been gifted the fastest galley ever built by the Sealord, it was not truly strange that he had made as good a time as he had.
"Then let us wait for him and see if he can save us all...."
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HEALER GALEN
Five years ago, he had sat in this very place as a young nameless healer who had barely escaped the Black Cells of Kingslanding with his life. He had been brought to these shores for another political game, yet in that moment, he had decided that he was done being powerless in his life.
Galen had no love for power or influence and had only ever desired to help as many people as he could, yet he had learned quickly that the world had little goodness left in it, and that without power and wealth at his back, he would only ever fail in his dreams, grand or small as they may be.
And so, he had decided to change his ambitions and chase the one thing he had always run from.
Power.
The deal he had made was simple, for he was not the only person who sought this power. With dragons and dragonlords of Kingslanding to its West, and the Rogare Bank to its South, Braavos had long sought power of its own to secure its future.
Power separate from its fleet of Ships, and the Mighty Iron Bank to secure its futures, and so the Sealord had sought him to obtain that power. He had hoped that Galen would be able to provide him with the very beasts that had enslaved the founders of his city centuries ago.
But hatching a dragon egg was no simple feat, and so he had decided to give them a different kind of Power, and in all but Five Years, Braavos had become the world's capital for Science and Medicine.
"Is there anything I can say that might change your mind?" The Sealord himself summoned him to his palace as the subtle intentions of the Poetess failed in keeping him tied to the shores of Braavos.
The Poetess was as beautiful a woman as any, and with a wit just as sharp as her features. She was one of the most famous and sought-after courtesans of Braavos and had set her sights on him years ago, summoning him to her barge every moon to satisfy her desires.
"No," he answered truthfully, as the bald Sealord's face shifted in remorse.
"There is a war brewing in Kingslanding," and he knew that as well, for he had received the King's missive a day ago, as King Baelon once more apologised to him for his part in the plot against him, while giving him a Royal Charter to return to Kingslanding at any time.
"I know," and yet he would return, for he had a promise to keep and a confession to answer.
Much had been left unspoken between him and Gael because of the plots of people around them, and he believed that it was time enough for them to meet once more.
For years, his heart had ached to see her, and yet he had long promised himself that he would not do so until he had the strength to protect himself, and more importantly, them from the ploys of those around them.
Their affections had already been a victim of these ploys, and he would not never let that happen again.
"But I have a promise to keep," and with the backing of the Iron Bank, Galen had made leaps and leaps every day, as he used all of the knowledge at his disposal to give Braavos the shield it so desired.
The Guild of Purple Hand was dissolved, and an Order of Healers was formed, all of whom served at his pleasure. Anything he so desired was brought him, anything he sought was made hammered into form for him, anything he so wished to do was made legal for him.
He was given as free a hand as possible. With that freedom, Galen had made advancements in the study of disease as he exposed to the world the truth of human anatomy, physiology, and pathology.
He gave them an understanding of the human body, and how it worked, and how the diseases that they all so feared worked. He gave them cures for a thousand ailments, and taught them the art of cutting into a man and then putting him back together just as the Gods had made him to be.
These five years were being hailed as the Golden Age of Medicine, and he was at the centre of it all. Braavos now housed the largest Hospital ever built, along with an Institute that matched the Sealord's Palace in size and would fuel discoveries and inventions for centuries to come.
"If you go there, you won't be able to return to these lands," the Sealord added, and he did not know that.
"As soon as you step onto those shores, either your fate shall be sealed. You shall either be the King of those lands, or the villain whose Head shall fuel a rebellion that would kill thousands," and Daemon's hatred for him was well known throughout the lands, and Galen knew as well how Daemon's plot against him had made him a villain within the people of the city he hoped to rule.
With Prince Viserys' death, he had become the heir apparent, and yet no celebrations and no honors were held for him, as the lord and ladies at court all sought to displace him from his position to seat a saner person on the Iron Throne.
He was not blind to what awaited him on the shores of Kingslanding, for the whispers of war had reached the streets of Braavos. A storm was brewing there, and if he were to set foot on those shores, he would find himself at the centre of it all.
Yet now he was ready for it. The storm. The war. All of it.
"And yet no matter my fate, Braavos shall have its shield," for now, going against the Free City of Braavos meant losing access to medicines, healers, and all the progress that was being made at Galen's Institute of Health and Sciences.
"We have given you everything," the Sealord began as he leaned forward in frustration.
"Power, Wealth, Influence, Beautiful Women, and yet your heart is still set on a promise made years ago," and Galen smiled as he gave him his answer.
"Some promises are worth much more than wealth and words..."
"Are they worth more than one's life?"
"Yes, they are...."
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