Chapter 539: Pulling the Strings
“Roar...” Caraxes let out a loud neigh, and like a snake, it soared into the sky, leaping over the Black Wall.
Inside the mansion, through the glass floor-to-ceiling windows, it was clear to see Daemon riding the dragon away. Rhaenys frowned in disbelief, “White Worm was attacked?”
“Yes, fortunately someone was guarding the Topless Tower,” Rhaegar's face darkened, but he let out a sigh of relief. The fact that White Worm was unharmed meant there was still room to maneuver.
Rhaenys looked at a piece of paper and said with certainty, “It couldn't have been Laena. She has her own pride.”
Rhaegar glanced at the paper and said nothing. Daeron lowered his head, eyeing the second note in his brother's hand. If his guess was correct, that letter probably contained the name of the real culprit. His brother had just become angry and said Aemond's name.
Rhaenys, unaware of the second note, had already prepared for the worst: “I'll ride back to Lys with Meleys to prevent Daemon from making a scene.”
“I'll go back instead,” Rhaegar interrupted, calmly saying, “The real culprit is someone else. We have to give Daemon an answer.”
Rhaenys sensed something was wrong and asked suspiciously, “Who would want to kill White Worm and for what purpose?”
“Whoever it is, we need to calm Daemon down first,” Rhaegar didn't care about the process, only the result. With the war ongoing, the family could not afford to be at odds with each other. Aemond had done something stupid, and someone had to clean up the mess.
Rhaenys narrowed her eyes, trying to guess who would benefit the most from the murder.
“Keep an eye on Volantis. Don't do anything rash,” Rhaegar patted Daeron on the shoulder, his demeanor completely natural.
Daeron nodded silently, taking it to heart. Rhaegar said no more and left.
Rhaenys stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows, her arms folded, deep in thought.
...
Lys, the flat-topped Topless Tower.
Since the assassination attempt on White Worm, the Topless Tower had been under strict security. Mysaria stayed in her room around the clock, her presence never waning for even a moment. She spoke to no one, except for brief interactions during meals and trips to the toilet. For added security, Ser Lorent of the Kingsguard was assigned to guard her door, ensuring her safety day and night.
...
The meeting hall.
A group of women gathered together, their conversations hushed and tense. Helaena sat quietly in a corner, sewing small clothes. Occasionally, she would glance up, then quickly lower her eyes back to her work.
Rhaenyra stood in front of Johanna, her voice stern and demanding, “Did you do it or not?”
Johanna looked genuinely taken aback, her hands raised in a gesture of innocence. “Your Grace, I have never acted on my own,” she replied helplessly. “I truly didn't do it. If I had, I wouldn't have been so careless.”
Rhaenyra's piercing gaze fixed on Johanna's eyes, searching for any sign of deceit. Deep down, she suspected it wasn't Johanna. Based on the success of Johanna's previous trap for Jeyne, the Black Swan's methods were far too sophisticated for such a clumsy attempt. But she needed to be sure.
“Mother, is he coming back?” Baela asked, glancing nervously at the scene, her voice trembling slightly.
Laena, who was sitting on a chair holding her leg, felt a wave of mixed emotions wash over her. She hadn't orchestrated the assassination, but the blame had somehow fallen on her. With Daemon's paranoid personality, the aftermath would not be easily resolved.
Rhaena, clinging to Laena's other leg, tried to offer comfort. “Lady Mysaria is fine. We will catch the real culprit,” she said softly.
“Bullshit,” Baela retorted, her voice filled with bitterness. “He only cares about his son. He doesn't care about right and wrong.” Years of neglect had turned the word “father” into something unbearable for her.
Laena's head ached from the bickering between her two daughters. She sighed, “Don't jump to conclusions. Let's wait until Daemon returns.” After all, it was their side that had saved Mysaria, the White Worm. She believed Daemon wouldn’t act rashly without a reason.
Rhaenyra turned her attention to Sara and asked, “Have you found any clues?”
Dressed as a maid, Sara shook her head, her voice low and unwavering. “No,” she replied.
“A guard and a cook. How could they assassinate someone without being hired?” Rhaenyra frowned, skepticism in her voice.
“They were both working alone. There’s nothing more to find,” Sara insisted, her attitude resolute. For her, the nature of the incident had changed the moment the assassin died. Syrio was right—the true identity of the mastermind could not be revealed. If the truth were uncovered, it would be the king who ultimately suffered.
Rhaenyra put her hand on her forehead, feeling extremely helpless. The incident had happened on her territory, and it was a hot potato she didn't want to handle. She turned her head and met Laena's eyes, seeing the same helplessness reflected back.
Rhaenyra had a bright idea and opened her mouth to speak, but Laena cut her off, saying, “Daemon has too many enemies to count.” She knew her husband all too well. He was eccentric, loud, brash, and always exuded a dangerous aura. In just a few words, he could offend a large number of people.
Rhaenyra was so angry that she could hardly stand it. She spat out, “He's just an asshole.” But then, her concern shifted. “What are you going to do? Daemon will come and hold you accountable?”
She wasn't afraid for herself, but Laena was alone in this.
Laena was silent for a long time, her face gradually becoming solemn. She spoke quietly, almost to herself, “If he doesn’t even have the most basic trust, it’s time to make a clean break.” She was tired of this life. How different was she now from the late Lady Rhea?
Rhaenyra looked surprised, taking her friend's hand, unsure whether to encourage reconciliation or support Laena's resolve.
Throughout the conversation, Helaena remained quiet, lost in her own thoughts. In her hands was a green silk tapestry embroidered with two dragons, one red and one green, entwined with each other. They appeared to be fighting, but also looked like they were making love. The red thread of dragon blood dripped down the side of the tapestry, leaving a white space.
...
Time flies. Three days later, the port of Lys was bustling with merchant ships. Pedestrians strolled by as two dragons whizzed past overhead, their powerful wings creating gusts of wind that blew away street vendors' goods and lifted the skirts of startled ladies.
In the Topless Tower, Daemon stormed into the meeting hall, his expression cold and threatening.
“Prince, Your Grace has not yet summoned you,” Arryk, the Kingsguard on duty, said, reaching out to block him.
"Out of my way, white robe," Daemon snapped, pushing him aside without a second thought.
Everyone in the hall witnessed this scene. Rhaenyra's lips tightened as if she were swallowing her anger. Laena and Johanna sat in their seats as councilors, waiting to see what Daemon would do next. Helaena, seated off to the side, carefully played with a sapphire.
The usual attendees were present, but surprisingly, Aemond was there beside Helaena. Ever since Daemon had burst in, Aemond had glanced sideways, sat up straight, and a faint smile curved his lips. Perpetrators often liked to return to the scene of the crime, admiring their own handiwork. The look of panic on the good uncle's face excited him a little.
Daemon, after days of traveling on the dragon, was in a state of suppressed anger that could erupt at any time. His patience was exhausted. He first gave Laena a cold glance.
Laena looked up at him, unconcerned. Daemon narrowed his eyes and glanced at Johanna and Helaena but didn't see any motivation in their expressions.
Finally, Daemon's gaze settled on his niece, Rhaenyra.
"Queen, Mysaria was attacked on your territory. You owe me an explanation!" Daemon's tone was icy, the coldness cutting through the room.
Rhaenyra met his gaze with a calm, cold look. "According to tradition, you should call me Your Grace."
"Oh, Your Grace," Daemon sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He suddenly erupted, "I'm fighting for the kingdom while women and children are languishing in prison. Where were you then?!"
"How dare you accuse me!" Rhaenyra shot back, unafraid and unwavering. "Don't forget, it was my people who rescued White Worm and sent you the raven."
Daemon's sneer deepened. "Who knows if this wasn't a farce of your own making?" His eyes sliced through Laena like a blade.
Laena took a deep breath, clenched her skirt, and prepared to stand up. Suddenly, the Kingsguard at the doorway shouted, “Your Grace!”
Creak.
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The heavy door slowly opened, and a slight breeze blew away the heat in the room. Rhaegar strode in, and the room fell silent as everyone turned to look at him.
Rhaenyra's face lit up with joy, feeling reassured. Helaena rested her hands on her cheeks, staring at him.
Rhaegar's glance swept the room, pausing briefly on Aemond. His face showed no emotion, but Aemond, who had been enjoying the spectacle, suddenly felt exposed and vulnerable. He had believed he was safe, that the two assassins had died without revealing him as the mastermind. But Rhaegar's stare made him feel naked and ashamed. He avoided Rhaegar's gaze, taking back the sapphire from Helaena, his eyes empty and insecure.
Daemon, still glaring at his nephew, said sarcastically, "You came back to investigate the real murderer?"
Rhaegar ignored the sarcasm and said calmly, "I just saw Lady Mysaria. She's fine."
Daemon frowned, not understanding his nephew's meaning. Rhaegar was blunt, saying, "I thought you would be more concerned about the pregnant woman."
Daemon had made a big fuss about returning but hadn't seen White Worm, who was pregnant. Instead, he had barged into the conference room, venting his anger at everyone. Rhaegar wanted to ask if the life of the White Worm was more important than his prestige being challenged.
Daemon understood and said bluntly, "I want the murderer. The real murderer must be hiding in the Topless Tower."
Rhaenyra interjected, "The Topless Tower has been searched repeatedly. There is no real killer."
"Stop your tricks. You wouldn't fool a three-year-old," Daemon retorted, laughing mockingly. "You're still not willing to admit it, but I taught you those tricks."
He dared to assert that the real murderer was in this conference room. Rhaenyra was furious, feeling that the other party was being completely unreasonable.
"Okay, everyone, sit down," Rhaegar interrupted the escalating argument, pulling out a chair and taking a seat.
Daemon remained standing, his eyes scanning the room with a penetrating gaze. Most of the women looked indifferent, but Aemond, chin slightly raised, had a playful, almost provocative glint in his eyes.
Sensing something off, Daemon narrowed his eyes, recalling the one-eyed kid's earlier letter to Rhaegar, mocking him and asking for a fight. Daemon, experienced in the art of intrigue, felt a familiar scent of conspiracy.
Rhaegar noticed this shift and, without warning, picked up a wine cup from the table, hurling it with precision.
Bang!
Aemond, caught off guard, took the cup to the forehead, the impact sending wine and blood streaming down his face.
Crack!
Helaena's eyes went wide, and she leaped out of her seat in fear. Aemond, stunned, stared at Rhaegar, blood streaming from his good eye.
"I told you to patrol the Narrow Sea. What are you doing back in Lys?" Rhaegar's eyes were like spears, pointing to the door. "Get out and finish your duty, now!"
After the assassination, the real killer’s identity was still a mystery. Rhaegar knew Daemon couldn't learn the truth, as it would inevitably lead to chaos. Aemond had loyally played his part as a dutiful brother, and Rhaegar intended to protect him, just as his father had always protected Daemon.
The tension in the room was palpable. Despite the calm facade since Rhaegar's arrival, his first harsh words were followed by a decisive act of violence against Aemond.
Daemon's eyes widened in surprise. "Are you going to protect him?" he asked, already convinced of Aemond's involvement.
Rhaenyra and Laena were equally taken aback, Rhaenyra especially, her expression one of clear-eyed disbelief, as if silently questioning Aemond's motives.
Aemond turned his head, wiping the blood from his forehead with his hand. Rhaegar's expression remained unchanged, but his actions spoke volumes. "Get out! Do I have to repeat myself a third time?"
Aemond hesitated, then finally conceded. "Yes, Your Grace," he muttered, kicking the chair away and heading toward the door.
"Stop, one-eye!" Daemon couldn’t let it go, drawing his sword and rushing straight at Aemond.
In the next second:
Clang!
Sparks flew as swords clashed. Rhaegar stood up simultaneously, Truefyre pushing aside Daemon's steel blade. His sword aimed squarely at his impulsive uncle from a distance.
"Rhaegar!" Rhaenyra gasped, shocked to see uncle and nephew drawing their swords against each other.
Rhaegar, ignoring her, fixed his gaze on Daemon, his tone serious. "There is a limit to everything. It's time to stop."
Daemon, slightly surprised, quickly sneered. "If someone tried to kill Rhaenyra, would you be able to stop?"
"White Worm is White Worm, and you know it best," Rhaegar countered, not backing down. He advanced his blade slowly. "If you marry White Worm, I will give you a grand ceremony."
Rhaegar was determined to save Aemond, even if it meant compensating Daemon by involving himself in his murky business with the Sea Snake and making sacrifices.
"What if I say no?" Daemon retorted.
Rhaegar's eyes remained calm. "You can try."
Daemon tilted his head slightly, his right hand gripping the sword so tightly that his knuckles turned white, a dangerous aura emanating from him.
As the uncle and nephew faced off, it seemed a fight could break out at any moment.
At some point, Helaena had packed her things and stood behind Rhaegar. Aemond wiped the blood from his face, his hand on the dagger at his waist.
The three siblings and Uncle Daemon were clearly at odds. Aemond had misjudged the assassination of White Worm, and he was gravely mistaken. Daemon was the victim, even if his sarcasm had triggered the incident.
But Aemond had been right about his own position from the start. He wanted to make a name for himself and unite his siblings to defend Rhaegar's rule. Even if Aegon and Daeron were present, they would choose to side with their brother.
Rhaegar, maintaining his composure, said, "Uncle, I have a duty to protect Lady Mysaria." His dedication was evident; otherwise, Daemon would have already received news of her death.
Daemon's face darkened further, and he seemed ready to swing his sword. Rhaegar, however, glanced at him and was the first to lower Truefyre. "Go see Lady Mysaria, and let's end this here," he said.
At this moment, Helaena and Aemond silently stepped back, creating a passage. Daemon was momentarily dazed, a sense of disappointment washing over him.
Looking at the three siblings standing together, he suddenly thought of his brother Viserys. It had been a long time since he had seen his brother. This confrontation wasn't truly Rhaegar's doing. It was the relentless tide of time, crashing against the wandering prince who had once led a life of debauchery.
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