Chapitre 7: Chapter 7
Weeks have passed since the start of the new year, and all kinds of things have happened. One, is that the Triarchy have successfully raided Dragonstone, burning all Rhaenyra's banners that could be seen. Everyone was either dead or missing, including the queen herself. Now, the royal family was in the port of King's Landing, with the waters near the city filled with galleys that bore the banner of the Triarchy members. They will be marching from the port to the keep, displaying the trophies they had gotten in the decisive battle that had happened.
With the front of the entourage was Aemond along with Daeron and the admiral of the fleet, Sharako Lohar, riding atop horses accompanied by the kingsguard. Behind them a carriage bringing the child-king Maelor, the queen mother, and Lady Alicent Hightower. And behind them were a trail of heads of dragons, being dragged using horses, and around them were knights and men-at-arms guarding it. The heads of dragons belonged to the four dragons that Willam had felled during the assault on Driftmark, along with Meleys and Vermax, whose corpses could be found adrift on the beach when the battle of the Gullet was over. The parade was slow, as it was the point of it, to showcase the trophies gained during the battle. Willam was among the lords trailing behind all of this, seemingly out of place as the lords that surrounded him wore high quality armor and lavish silk, while he was just wearing leather straps and flax tunic.
In front of the trail of dragon heads was a speaker, holding a golden staff that caught people's attention. While his face looked calm and steady, the words that came out of his words were anything but.
"Behold the might and glory of our cause! Witness the downfall of the pretender queen, Rhaenyra Targaryen, and the defeat of her vile dragons! See the heads of the beasts that dared defy the true king!"
"Our fleet has prevailed, and the false claimants have been cast down! Let it be known that any who oppose the rightful rule of King Maelor will meet the same fate! These trophies are a testament to our victory and the power of our alliance!"
"Let the realm see and remember our strength and the folly of those who challenge it! Rejoice, for justice has been served and the realm shall know peace under the one true king!"
The smallfolk didn't know what to think of it. On one hand, some were relieved that the war is soon to be over, and the blockade over the gullet will all but be forgotten, people would not starve anymore. But on the other hand, they fear rageful retaliation from the other side due to this mocking display of their defeat. The pretender is dead. But what of her allies? Her closest kin on her side? The war is in its final stages, sure, but it is not yet over. At the end of the day, the smallfolk could care less about who sits on the Iron Throne, as long as they aren't bothered, oppressed, or destroying their mundane lives.
It was this sight that all Willam could see. Not the look of the proud lords, nor the rotting heads of the dragons, but the worries of the smallfolk. He would do well to remember it, perhaps he might need the strength of many in the future.
***
When the turn of the afternoon had just ended, Willam was called to the council room in haste. He could hear sounds from inside as he stood in front of the door, and when one of the Kingsguard opened it, he could clearly see that it was the admiral of the Triarchy inside. Willam simply entered the room and walked to the side, waiting for the man to finish his business.
"The promise the last Hand of the King made will be delivered: exclusive trading rights as well as ceding the rights to the Stepstones," said the admiral. "However, do you not want the other thing that I offered you?"
"I will pay you to get rid of him," said Aemond, sitting on the King's chair. "Be silent. Do not let it be public. Show me the proof after it's been done."
"Very well, I will do so," the admiral simply smiled. At this point, he noticed Willam's presence in the room. "It appears you have other business to speak of."
Aemond looked at Willam and hummed. "If you wouldn't mind."
The admiral nodded. "Then I thank you for your cooperation, Prince Regent."
The man then left, leaving Willam alone with the council. Willam took a step forward, standing just behind the master of the ship's chair, which was currently empty.
"You called for me, my prince?" said Willam. He looked at the other men at the table. None of them dared to look him in the eyes.
"The war is not yet over," stated Aemond. "The Vale still hosts Joffrey Velaryon and Rhaena Targaryen, while Harrenhal still hosts Daemon Targaryen. The army of the North marches southward as well. In a fortnight, we are gathering our forces to secure our foothold in the Crownlands. I will be commanding it, with my brother on his dragon. We plan on crossing the Trident and marching to the Bloody Gate. But Harrenhal stands in the way. The enemy still has one dragon, Daemon's. I doubt my young brother could defeat him in the sky. You are marching with us."
Willam nodded. "Very well. Anything else, my prince?"
Aemond frowned, confused by how suddenly 'tame' Willam was. Something was on his mind. "That is all."
"Then I will take my leave." Willam bowed his head slightly. "My lords."
Then, Willam simply left the room, leaving the council alone. A moment of stillness enveloped the table, but the sound of Lord Larys' staff broke the silence.
"My prince, may I suggest something? It's concerning him." he said.
Aemond turned to the Clubfoot. "What is it?"
"I believe that a being such as him cannot be left alive for long, especially a man as unpredictable as him," he stated. "Dragons can be fought with other dragons, and men can be fought with swords. But how can we fight him if he were to become an enemy in the future?"
"I agree with Lord Larys," Lord Jasper said. "In this very castle, with him wandering around the halls, I cannot tell the difference between living as a courtier of the court and living here as a prisoner. As long as he is here, we are gripped by the fear of us perishing under the weight of a titan."
Aemond merely hummed, tapping his fingers on the table. "What would you suggest, then?"
"A quick strike in his own bed, my prince," Larys told everyone. "No man could survive a beheading, even a monster such as him."
"We do not know his… endurance against wounds," Orwyle commented.
"He is our ally, for now," Aemond said. "I agree, he is a threat to the crown, but the path to when he becomes an enemy is still far away."
"We must end the threat before it can even begin."
Aemond chuckled. "Does my mother put you up to this?"
"It is not about her opinions, my prince. It's the safety of your house's reign."
"Then do what you want. I will not take part in it, and I will pretend this conversation didn't happen," Aemond told Larys. "But I am warning you, Lord Larys. If you fail, I will not take your side. Everyone's life is at stake if he thinks that we have betrayed his trust."
Larys bowed his head slightly. "I understand, my prince."
***
[I'm going to put Titan's Forms/images here, if I put in in aux people would just read out of context and get spoiled]
1. War Titan
Height: 50 feet/15 meter
Speciality: Structural shaping, hardening, increased muscle density
2. Colossus Titan
Height: 780 feet/240 meter
Speciality: Big ass mf, explosive transformation, controlled steam emission
3.Sprint Titan
Height: 23 feet/7 meter
Speciality: fast runner, endurance
4. Flying Titan
Height: 50 feet/15 meter
Speciality: Flight
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone