[Chapter Size: 2400 Words.]
Third Person POV.
King's Landing.
...
...
It was night in King's Landing after the chaos since morning, and the city was well under control at that moment, after Lord Baratheon, Lord Stark, and Brynden Tully had placed men to patrol the streets.
The torches were already beginning to light the streets and houses, while people wandered from one side to the other, always wary, casting suspicious glances at the king's men who guarded the city after the conquest of King's Landing.
One woman in particular walked through the streets with a cloak covering her face beneath the hood of her cape, avoiding raising her gaze and passing by all the people around her.
"Hey, you there!" a man in armor bearing the sigil of the Starks called out to her, making her shiver.
She slowly lifted her gaze.
He watched her with suspicion for a moment. She looked very suspicious acting like that, as if she were hiding something.
"It's just a woman. Leave her alone," said his partner as he came up beside the other guard.
The man looked at her for a few more seconds and simply nodded.
The woman lowered her head again and continued moving through the streets, turning a corner here, another there, until she finally reached a small two-story house in some corner of the city.
She knocked on the door.
"Who is it?" a rough voice growled from the other side.
"It's me," the woman replied, and that alone was enough.
Footsteps approached the door, and the sound of locks being undone echoed. A middle-aged man opened it.
"You finally arrived, there were no problems?" he asked in a low voice.
She shook her head and stepped inside.
The man cast one last look down the streets, making sure she had not been followed, and then closed the door. He watched her move toward a chair as she began to remove the cloak.
"And then?" he asked.
She looked at him. "They said they will arrange a meeting with the High Sparrow himself, while the castle is feasting on the victory... It will be in 2 hours. His followers are saying that this Targaryen is a demon," she said carefully.
She had just come from a meeting where some followers of the Seven were calling ordinary people of the city to discuss what was happening in the city after the Targaryen army took it.
"Do you believe that? That the new king really is a demon?" the man asked, somewhat skeptical.
"No one else can do what he did. They themselves emphasized that... There are rumors in the city saying that he transforms into a dragon in human form. They also speak of that storm that came and went in the middle of the work — they say it was he who created it. No man should have such powers, powers that only the gods should have! They are saying that he is an affront against the Seven and that his reign of terror will begin as soon as he wears the crown."
The man seemed thoughtful as he heard this. His wife had insisted on attending the meeting, even though he said it was not a good idea, because if the city guards found out, they would be doomed.
"But he distributed food, didn't he?" he asked her.
"They say that is only temporary," she replied, with pleading in her voice. "We have to leave, husband. King's Landing is not safe. I don't want to stay for us to be killed here like animals! They relayed the words of the High Sparrow, who will raise a resistance against the demon and gather all the followers of the Seven so that our gods may fight him, not like the soldiers and lords who seek power at his side. They say that soon he will begin sacrificing people. I heard that Lord Stannis used to do that before."
"Leave? And abandon everything we have built over the last ten years?" he retorted.
"And what choice do we have? We are common people. You have to believe in the High Sparrow. He is a man chosen by the gods to protect us. He will rise together with the new Faith Militant. But we cannot stay here. People will die. Even the High Sparrow acknowledges that. The demon will try to use those powers to dominate the city and crush the struggle of the followers of the Seven."
"I don't know... The soldiers were harsh, but there was not much looting nor many deaths. On the contrary, whoever did that is being punished. I saw it myself," the man replied.
The couple began to argue about whether they should stay or not, but that no longer mattered to the person who was outside the window, listening to everything, also hooded.
"Interesting..." the hooded man murmured as he stepped away from the small house, having already heard enough.
He moved along the streets.
The city seemed calm and controlled, but a shadow was beginning to form over the capital. A feeling of resistance and revolt was being created in secret against the new government. It was not the Lannisters or even the Blackfyres... The people had taken advantage of the food distributed that day, eating heartily after so long starving, but whispers began to spread from ear to ear.
Even with vigilant guards searching for Lannister resistance, something even more dangerous was forming within the city. And not even they could see it... King's Landing had an immense population, and a revolt would be dangerous even for the new government.
The hooded man walked through alleys and streets, blending even into small crowds without anyone noticing him. He kept listening to the whispers — some friendly, others not — And some, troubling, with the words being there:
"Reign of terror."
"He sold his soul to the demon to gain power."
"Magic should not exist!"
"We have to kill his dragon in the Pit."
"We cannot be ruled by another tyrant."
"The Seven would never allow this."
The whole world had witnessed Daemon Targaryen's magic in recent years, and many would never accept it. A man capable of doing so many things alone was soon labeled a demon.
But the hooded one did not seem to care.
He continued on until he found an alley. There were at least eight or nine people there, carrying clubs studded with nails. On their foreheads, the Seven-Pointed Star was marked like a wound. Their hair was shaved.
It was the Faith Militant, which had been forming in the city over the past moons.
The place was away from the patrol routes. The hooded man advanced, passing through the group without anyone noticing his presence, as if he were merely a breeze crossing the alley.
Upon entering the house, he found three more members armed with nail-studded clubs, along with several axes and swords gathered from the battle of that day, from dead soldiers. They were stockpiling them, and there were several dozen scattered around the place.
He saw two of them arguing about the weapons.
"We cannot deal with him now, even if we wanted to. We have to wait for the armies to leave the city. The High Sparrow said we must wait for the best moment to strike," one of them whispered to the other.
The stranger merely listened. Then he passed by them and began climbing the stairs to the upper floor.
There was an elderly man, dressed in torn clothes, kneeling before a candle and a religious symbol of the Seven, praying.
The hooded man approached calmly, startling him when he touched the elderly man's shoulder.
The man jumped, rising in surprise at seeing someone who should not be there.
"Who are you?" he asked, after recovering himself.
The man beneath the hood seemed slightly impressed by how quickly he adapted to the situation.
"Hello, High Sparrow. I have been hearing a lot about you lately," the hooded man said, revealing his purple eyes as he looked at the man before him.
"You..." the old man murmured.
The one standing there was none other than the king who had conquered the city.
"Daemon Targaryen, current king of the Seven Kingdoms. The one who took the Iron Throne," he introduced himself. "And you are the High Sparrow, a man about whom I have heard certain rumors, gathering quite a following when the common folk were desperate in recent moons. I do not remember having met you before, nor having heard of you, but they said you were already in the city when I was spreading rumors about the Council."
"Yes... I remember you. The man who could transform into a beast and massacre people. Killed the former king..."
"I merely gave a little push, in a fair one-on-one combat, without magic if you wish to know... I did not deliver the final blow." Daemon said in a relaxed manner.
"I remember you storming the brothel and convincing that woman to kill her son's murderer." He said immediately afterward, making Daemon raise an eyebrow, before a smile formed.
"I gave her a taste of vengeance. Did you not think it was right?" Daemon asked, in an amused tone.
"You made the woman succumb to evil by encouraging her to seek vengeance. She lost her salvation."
"Is that so?" Daemon raised an eyebrow again at that.
They were speaking of the event in which Janos Slynt had killed one of Robert's bastards in his mother's arms, a prostitute from one of Petyr Baelish's brothels. Daemon had massacred the guards at the entrance and stormed the place. He did not kill Janos immediately; instead, he handed the blade to the woman in question and offered her the chance to avenge her dead baby. And she stabbed him to death.
"What happened to her?" Daemon asked, though he already suspected the answer.
"What all sinners deserve," the man replied calmly. "We offered her redemption, and she accepted. But for that, she needed to atone for her sins."
"So she is dead, then," Daemon mocked.
The man simply nodded. "You speak of redemption, yet you kill people. That woman had her baby murdered. Should she not have had the right to vengeance against the man who killed her child before her eyes?"
"To act in wrath is a sin. What she did was purely selfish. To take a life out of anger and hatred is not justice in the name of the Seven."
Daemon crossed his arms, observing the man. He found that mindset irritating, yet he could not fail to notice something interesting.
"You are extremely calm before the most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms, who can kill you here and now. And yet you speak to me in this manner. You are not shouting, not calling your men..."
"I do not fear you, demon," he said to Daemon. "If you are going to kill me, so be it. The gods will see to sending my soul to Paradise. But you may even kill me — you will not escape their wrath."
Daemon heard that and allowed himself a smile. "Your gods do not exist, if you want to know. But I know some. One of them is quite interested in this world, and he is not a demon as you think. Just as magic, which you all seem to fear, is not good or evil simply because you cannot use it, or because it was banished from this world long ago."
"That does not mean there are no other worlds where it is accepted and used, whether for good or for ill. In the North there is a creature of ice that commands an army of the dead. It is preparing to come south of the Wall. The White Walkers have always been real. The Long Night has always been real. And now they are returning," Daemon said.
The man stared at him intensely. "I do not believe that. That is a lie. That is your delusion, demon. Words used to cause fear and deceit," he replied.
Daemon said nothing further at that moment.
Footsteps began to climb the stairs.
"So that is it? You were waiting for them to come up, were you not?" Daemon spoke.
He raised his hand before the man and clenched it with a great wave of telekinesis, something he was not accustomed to doing.
The entire house began to tremble at that moment. The old man widened his eyes for the first time, frightened by it, while the men climbing the stairs began to shout, losing their balance and falling.
"As much as I find it amusing to keep talking to you, we need to be realistic," Daemon continued, while the structure still vibrated. "Your plans to summon a Faith Militant in the capital, waiting for the best moment to strike at me, saying that I am a creature of darkness who will begin sacrificing people and establish a reign of terror... That must come to an end."
He took a step forward.
"First, your plan would never work. Most of the people who heard your speeches — your followers scattered throughout the city — are more afraid than brave. They know what I am capable of. Many are already thinking of abandoning King's Landing because of it."
Daemon made the house tremble harder.
"I also know where your meeting will take place, while the banquet in the castle is underway. And it will amount to nothing. And you, who were supposed to be present, will not attend... since you suffered a terrible accident tonight."
The man felt his body being pressed by an invisible force. His feet left the ground as Daemon, still making the house tremble slightly, began dragging him toward the stairs.
"Unfortunately, the kind High Sparrow fell down the stairs and broke his neck... during a small earthquake."
The High Sparrow said nothing, but he seemed quite frustrated. There was also something in his eyes — doubt, uncertainty... and fear now.
Daemon did not care.
He simply placed him before the stairs and threw him forward, making it appear as though he had slipped. The man struck his neck against the steps and rolled all the way down the staircase.
"High Sparrow!" His men began to shout upon seeing him lying on the floor.
The house trembled once more.
Daemon went to the window, pulled his hood back over his head, and disappeared amid the chaos.
New members of the newly formed Faith Militant began to rush into the house, distressed around the High Sparrow.
Meanwhile, Daemon left the alley and made his way through the streets toward the castle, where the banquet was in full swing — an event in which he had not yet even taken part.
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