Chapter 29
MATARYS TARGARYEN
The journey back to Kingslanding was filled with only quiet and the mystery of the bruise on Duncan's face. The tall knight had joined their retinue in a quiet manner, hoping that the massive bruise on his face would go unnoticed, but it was hard to hide.
They had questioned him about it, and his answer about it, coming from a fall from his horse, had obviously been a lie. He had made some inquiries about the man's latest outgoings, and the answer had revealed itself rather easily.
Still, House Targaryen had enough troubles to deal with, so he said nothing and let the wound remain a mystery as Duncan desired.
They avoided castles and holdfasts on the journey back, choosing to stay in inns and tents until they reached Kingslanding on the fourth day, with the remains of his uncle riding behind him.
The city was quiet in its mourning as it welcomed them all. The smallfolk gathered on the streets as they passed through to the castle, and Matarys could feel their gazes and their whispers as he passed through them.
"He did it," they whispered.
"Kinslayer," they called him, and he knew well that this was just the beginning of his penance.
"Ignore them," Valarr whispered as he pulled up beside him.
"They don't know the truth of it," he tried to console him, as Matarys nodded.
"I know," but the small folk were powerless in their prejudice. They may whisper and stare, but the truth was that they could do nothing to him.
But the King was not so powerless, and Matarys had killed his son. He was certain that, for all his goodness, the King would not be so forgiving to him. They reached the gates of the Red Keep soon enough, and they were welcomed by the King's Master of Whispers, and with that the party broke, as he turned to him and his father.
"The King wants you in his solar," and he exchanged a glance with his father.
"We will be there," and with that, they were walking through the Halls of the Red Keep once more, and these Halls had been his home once, yet now they all felt rather foreign to him as Brynden Rivers led him through them.
The man fell back slightly until he was right beside him, and his scowl deepened as he leaned closer.
"Why did you do this?" he whispered to him, and Matarys turned towards him.
His feelings about the man were rather complicated. There were very few people in the realm who were more loyal to the Targaryen family, yet for some reason, he had never quite been able to trust the man despite his rather keen interest in him.
"You should have listened to me," he chided him, and Matarys was one of the few people who knew of his true ability, just as he was the one who knew of Matarys's ability.
"I did what I believed to be the right thing," and he did not like that answer.
"But you are more important than that," he claimed, and he doubted that.
"You ruined everything with this. I had just convinced the King to put you on the Council, but you will be lucky if he lets you keep your little project now," and his feet slowed down slightly at that insinuation.
Matarys had poured nearly all he could in the land he had leased from the Crown, and the King could now take it all away from him in his rage.
"Was it worth it? Doing the right thing?" he asked again, and Matarys gulped down as he remained defiant.
"Yes," and the man shook his head, as he whispered insults at him.
"Damn you! YOU HONORABLE FOOL!" and by then they had reached the King's solar, and him and his father entered the solar at his command.
The solar was rather tame, and there were quite a few shelves filled with scrolls and tomes placed beside the wall.
The King himself stood near the window, and once Daeron the Second had been young and clean-shaven, but the years had made his belly rounder and his beard misshapen.
His lustrous hair had lost its shine now, and the dazzle of his eyes was gone when he turned to face them.
"Father," Baelor Targaryen greeted the man, and the man turned towards him, and Matarys felt those eyes land on him.
"Your grace," Matarys greeted him as well, but the man did not answer him as he once more turned towards Baelor Targaryen again.
"I sent you and your brother to a celebration, yet somehow you let it turn into a funeral for your brother," and he saw his father's face twist with agony, and the pain in the King's voice was evident enough.
"How could you let this happen, my son?" the King questioned, and Baelor's lips thinned.
"I can expla..."
"I have heard enough of them," the King did not let him finish, as he cut in with rage.
"I know all of what happened in Ashford," he spoke to Baelor and continued as his eye slowly turned towards Matarys.
"Brynden made sure of that," and it was as if he was trying to read his mind.
"He was your uncle. He raised you like a son. He knighted, and yet you raised your blade against him," and at that, his father chose to intervene.
"He had no choice," Baelor Targaryen cut in softly, but King Daeron was not convinced.
"Aerion's actions left us little choice in the matter," and the King turned towards his chair, and sat down while Baelor and him still stood tall.
"He was the one who asked for the Trial," his father defended him, and the King's face fell at that.
"I know what that fool did. I know that he bears much of the blame for what happened there," and he seemed rather weary as he continued.
"I just wish that both of you had made different choices," and the words slipped out of his mouth.
"So do I," the words slipped out of Matarys's lips, and the King now turned to him once more. His eyes had come together, and after some hesitation, he continued to speak.
"I do not know if you will believe me or not, but I loved Maekar as a son would," and there was no lie in that.
"He was my uncle, yet he treated me as a son, and I saw his sons as brothers," and he always would
"I did not wish to see him dead," and he was looking directly into the King's gaze now. The King took a second to respond.
"I do not doubt your love for him. But why would you still draw your blade against him?" and the answer was simple enough.
"For justice," Matarys answered, and his fists balled up as he spoke further.
"For the oaths he made me swear when he made me a knight," and the King frowned at his answer.
"And those oaths and those words...," Daeron the Good asked him, in his powerful voice.
"...are they worth more than Maekar's life?"
"Please, father. You know the...." Baelor tried to intervene, but the King refused to let him.
"Let the boy answer my question," and he could feel the full weight of the King's gaze now. For all his life until now, Daeron the Second had only ever looked at him as a prince or a grandson.
But now, he was looking at him as a person. He was judging him as a person.
His question was brutal, though, and Matarys knew that his fate lay in the answer he would give. For a few seconds, there was only silence in the room, as Matarys thought about the words, before he finally gave his answer.
"Two hundred years ago, it was the Dragons that allowed the Conqueror to bring the Seven Kingdoms to heel, and for a hundred years after that, it was the Dragons that kept the lords loyal and honest," and he saw both his father and the King frown at his answer, but he was not done yet.
"But then the Dance robbed us of our symbol of power and now it has been a century since a dragon has flown over the skies of Kingslanding. Now, we rule not through the might of dragons but through the oaths of loyalty sworn to us by the lords of the realm," and he could see the King's mind turning as he said those words.
"You ask me the value of my oaths. Then let me ask you this," and Matarys took in a deep breath as he finished his answer.
"How can we expect the lords to hold true to their oaths, when we refuse to do the same ourselves?" and now there was only silence in the room, and neither his father nor the King spoke anything for a minute or so after he gave his answer.
Silence hung in the room after his words, and only the crackle of the wood and whiff of the curtains reached their ears, while Matarys awaited his sentencing.
In the end, it was the King who turned his gaze away from him as he gave a deep sigh.
"Leave us," he spoke softly, and it took a second for the words to register. But when they did, Matarys could only bow and turn away from the King of the Seven Kingdoms.
"Your grace," Matarys whispered and turned towards the door, leaving the King alone with Baelor, his eldest son and Hand. And as he walked out of the solar, he found Brynden pacing outside it.
The red-eyed man stopped as he saw him step out of the solar.
"What did he say?" he asked the second the door closed behind him, and Matarys shrugged as he answered honestly.
"Nothing," and that was the truth, but the man sighed.
"You can be honest with me. I am not your enemy, Matarys," and Matarys nodded, but that was the truth of it.
"I am not lying. He said nothing," and now the man was frowning, as he realized that he had not lied to him.
"Interesting," Brynden Rivers whispered, and Matarys was too tired now as he walked past the man and just as he had turned towards his own chambers he found another person standing in his way.
Another person who had lost someone dear to them because of his actions. Seven men had lost their lives in the trial, and while most would think that the only kin he had lost was Maekar, they would be wrong.
While Maekar had fought against him, there had been another one of his uncles in the trial. One who had drawn his blade for him.
Manfred. Manfred Dondarrion. He was his mother's brother. The songs and the tales would not remember him, but Matarys would. Matarys did.
And now he had to face the consequences for that as well, as he stood face to face with his mother, Jena Dondarrion.
Her face was red, and he could see the slight tremble of her hand. He had not seen her in years, and yet he lacked the courage to run towards her.
He wanted to. Seven as his witness, he wanted to. But he feared what would happen afterward.
But then she came towards him. Slowly, and before he could even utter a greeting, she wrapped her arms around him, and he felt the tension leave his body as he heard her trembling.
"Seven Hells! What have they done to you, my child?" and in that moment, he let the pain vanish as he wrapped her arms around her.
"I am sorry," he whispered into her shoulder.
"I am so sorry...."
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