Hey guys, guess who is back at it again with another attempt at writing fanfiction? It's been over three (almost four) months since I finished my first Game of Thrones story and there's been quite a deal of ruckus going on in the world, but concerning having to maintain a full-time USPS job amidst the COVID-19 pandemic (yes, I'm one of those essential workers on the frontlines where so far there have been 19 confirmed cases where I'm at but so far we have had no reports of more cases emerging in the past 28+ days) being felt at home and abroad I haven't been able to post anything for quite some time so I might be a little rusty–which in my description can be interpreted as a heads-up apology for any grammatical errors if any are seen.

Full Summary: 800 years after the War for Westeros came to an end, the Seven Kingdoms have since been unified to become officially known as the Kingdom of Westeros. But despite having entered an industrial age, the Baratheon dynasty is threatened and now faces total collapse. Rebellion! A revolution is in the making! Prince Daemon Baratheon and his older brother King Argilac IV are the last living descendants of King Daveth I the Great. Upon ascending to monarchy, however, Argilac proves to be a tyrannical ruler—whose excessive cruelty, viciousness and despotism have caused unprecedented suffering throughout the nation. Can Daemon stop his brother and help lead the revolution to save the kingdom like his legendary ancestor did before it is too late? Or is House Baratheon doomed to suffer the same fate as its predecessor?

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Game of Thrones characters in the story or from any of the A Song of Ice and Fire novels. Only the OCs included are mine.

DAEMON BARATHEON
Titles: Prince
Date of Birth: 1105 AC
Gender: Male
Origin: Red Keep, King's Landing, the Crownlands, Westeros
Hair color: Black
Eye color: Blue
Allegiance: House Baratheon of King's Landing
Ethnicity: Half-Andal, Half-Valyrian
Religion: Faith of the Seven
Parents: Shiera III Baratheon & Jaerys Velaryon
Siblings: Argilac IV

YEAR 1123 AC

King's Landing, capital of the Kingdom of Westeros…

Today marked the fourth anniversary of the unfortunate death of Queen Shiera of the House Baratheon, the Third of Her Name. She had passed away after a prolonged sudden battle with a mysterious illness at 44. Despite passaging time since her death, the common folk still mourn for losing such a beloved popular monarch and would often sing sad songs in the streets such as 'Oh Queen Mother' or 'Shiera the Pure.'

Today should have been a moment of prayer… but misery and despair had engulfed the kingdom.

For the past century, the Age of Industry saw a significant rise in Westeros becoming more technologically advanced; from Dorne to the North, great machinery brought wealth to the rich and powerful—but such recent acceleration had come at the cost of human dignity with the eventual rise of much larger slums in Flea Bottom; many downtrodden residents instead refer to this day as the Age of Oppression. With the ascension of Queen Shiera's eldest son Argilac to the throne as King Argilac the Fourth, he appeared to have the makings of a great ruler—only to be met with disappointment when his true colors had shown and realized he turned out to be a most unfortunate successor. Once he had assumed power, Argilac taxed the people heavily, forced people to work long hours in factories with the addition of child labor, sidelined the Westerosi Parliament and has repeatedly prevented their calls for a Great Council from taking place… worse still was that he was exceedingly cruel in his punishments of those who dared speak up against him: imprisonment or death… but only after being subjected to such brutal torture first.

Fear, terror… King Argilac of the House Baratheon, the Fourth of His Name ruled with an iron fist these past four years.

—At the Red Keep—

Within the halls of the Red Keep, an elderly servant arrived in one room to awaken a certain individual. Jarger, a man well into his late 60s, had been in servitude to the royal family since the reign of Argilac's mother, his grandfather King Ormund II, and great-grandfather King Robert VIII. Tasked with catering to the care of House Baratheon's children, Jarger dutifully himself to them as their attendant. Noticing the enormous bed beside him was still occupied, Jarger could not help but not feel surprised at the sleeping youth's laziness. Having pulled back the shades to the bedchamber's window, he briefly gazed out to the streets below.

"Another day, another moment of sorrow. What a dreadfully sorry sight," the old man sighed with regret. Perhaps he was a bit too loud as his remark's caused a stir. Indeed, Jarger noticed the bed shift slightly with an audible groan. "Finally awake, are you? We finally have a rather beautiful day now that the dreadful rainstorm passed. We should not waste such a respite in bed, wouldn't you say?" he asked.

With that, Jarger pulled the covers to reveal a groggy eighteen-year-old Prince. Daemon Baratheon was the younger son of Queen Shiera III and her consort Jaerys Velaryon of Driftmark—making him second-in-line to the throne behind his older brother King Argilac IV. Both Baratheon brothers were never close in their childhood; although it has never been explicitly mentioned or discussed among the populace, it has been implied that Argilac bullied and abused Daemon physically or emotionally when they were children. Because of that, the young Prince made certain to keep his distance from his brother.

"Mmm… what? Oh, five more minutes, Jarger," Daemon groaned with a yawn.

"Now that is not how a Prince of your stature should behave. Come now. You have a busy day ahead. Rise and shine," he replied before ripping the sheets off.

Daemon's eyes narrowed as he held one hand up to shield himself from the bright rays of the sun. But at the foot of his bed awoke his furry companion.

Jarger, upon seeing the dog, rolled his eyes. What a pair. A dog takes after its master.

Now fully awake, the youthful royal stretched his arms, groaning before rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Haaah! Mmmm! Come on, boy. If I have to get up, so do you," he called out.

"*Woof! Woof!*"

Jarger nodded approvingly before walking over to the Prince's closet and emerging with a set of royal attire. "Good. Now, if you would be so kind as to please follow me. Perhaps we can find some appropriate clothing for today's activities."

Daemon looked despondent at the reminder of what today was. "It's… still hard to believe that she's gone," he said, almost saddened.

"I know, Your Highness. What happened… It was truly a tragic day for us all," the servant replied sympathetically. "Queen Shiera—Seven blessings on her kind soul—was well-loved by all in the kingdom. A rare flower in this world. I still remember the day your mother was just a girl. Your grandfather doted upon her every day. Your father worshipped the very ground she walked on. I watched her grow into a kind woman who treated all like her own children. We will miss her for generations to come."

Mother…

"But she wouldn't want any child of her own to continue grieving. No, she would wish to see you grow and thrive and live joyful lives."

"I know. That does not make things any easier," Daemon nodded. He shook his head, wanting to not think about it any longer. "Wait… you mentioned a busy schedule. What's on the agenda?"

Jarger nodded as he took out his notes. "Yes. You have been asked to address a special session of parliament and answer a series of questions regarding the memorial service before testifying before the Finance Committee regarding the kingdom's examination of this fiscal year's budget. After that, Professor Samson insisted you will tutor a history class session at the University of King's Landing with him for four hours."

"Do I have to?" he complained.

"Yes, Your Highness. You must," he said almost sternly. "If it's any consolation, I'm told that Lady Sharra Arryn and the Vale delegation has just arrived to convene with parliament this morning. She has requested your presence personally. No doubt she is waiting for you in the garden."

Sharra! He had not seen her in over 9 years. Of course, she would come on such an important day. Both Daemon and Sharra are childhood friends and have remained close throughout the years; her mother—Wardeness Alayne Arryn—was a handmaiden to his grandmother Queen Consort Elesra Stark, who often brought her daughter to court with her. Both Arryn and Baratheon children were inseparable, whether playing with each other in the gardens or sharing secrets… King Ormund II and Queen Elesra often mention with Sharra's grandparents Warden Artys Arryn and Lady Rowena Hardyng that their respective grandson and granddaughter would one day make a suitable match, flattering the Vale delegation. However, after Artys and Rowena died after a bout of cholera during the Great Spring Sickness, any talks of a possible arranged marriage soon ceased.

And it was because of that Alayne brought Sharra back to the Eyrie with her. Last he heard, Wardeness Arryn's health was failing her, and her daughter was being groomed to succeed her.

"She… She's here?" Daemon asked rather surprised.

Jarger nodded. "I thought that might get your attention. No doubt you will wish to look your best for your young… ahem, 'lady friend'." He then unveiled two outfits: a slim, elegant black leather renaissance jacket with faux leather inset accent accompanied with a silver stag pin, top-quality faux leather gauntlets and belt, black drawstring pants, black leather boots; the second option was a practical yellow and red tunic with a symmetric cut consisting of loose sleeves smoothly integrated into the tunic and brown riding pants.

Daemon examined both outfits closely before selecting the elegant outfit, sliding his arms through the sleeves and fastening the buckles on his belt and boots. Once buttoning his jacket, the Prince looked in the mirror. On normal days, he would not care how he looked – but for parliament, for Sharra Arryn… he will make an exception.

"Ah! Good choice, Your Highness. An exquisite ensemble, if I may say so. Lady Arryn is sure to find you most dashing in it."

"Jarger!" Daemon blushed.

"A harmless jab, Your Highness. A harmless jab. Anyhow, perhaps you ought to make your way to her now."

"Perhaps I should." He looked at his dog. "Come, boy. Let's go see our friend."

"*Woof! Woof!*"

Daemon moved to leave the room with his canine companion in tow. As he pushed on the door and prepared to exit, he heard Jarger call out to him once more.

"Oh! One more thing: I would strongly recommend that you avoid your brother today. King Argilac is rumored to be in an even greater ill temper."

Ugh! That's one way of putting it; that's a serious monumental understatement. He gets worse with each passing day.

"Have a good day, Your Highness."

"Will do. Good day, Jarger."

—At the royal gardens—

Even after over 800 years, the Red Keep's gardens have ever flourished—with the new addition of flora and fauna from Mirantibus Spe being added; the exotic birds would chirp sweet songs, and the plants themselves brought more color and life. The horticulturists themselves were very delicate about handling the newly discovered favus mellis. Visiting nobles from across Westeros would comment on how the smell of honey would introduce a request for fresh saplings so extract themselves would be used for their tea.

Daemon himself strolled through the gardens, passing by a few patrolling guardsmen. One-by-one, each saluted the young Prince.

"Good day, Your Highness," one greeted.

"My Prince," another chimed in.

"At your service, my Prince."

"Good day to you, ser," Daemon replied courteously.

Nearby noblewomen often remarked how handsome the passing Prince was, gushing and gossiping about how they would love to offer their maidenheads to him; one of the older ladies even tried to play matchmaker and offer her daughter as a suitable bride. Daemon politely declined the offer, but that did not stop many from complimenting him on his looks or just saying simple greetings.

But today? King Argilac handpicked many of the patrolmen himself as his enforcers to look after his interests and carry out his iron will. Their uniforms distinguished them from the Kingsguard knights or the City Watch: entirely black with silver accents and their obscure helmets covered their faces completely with only the eyes being revealed. Highly-trained, vicious, and just as oppressive as their leader, these men were fanatics—loyal to no man, not even royalty, except to Argilac. This made them even more intimidating. Cruel. Even Daemon made sure to steer clear of them whenever possible.

Gods, how did my ancestors handle this? This shit is even worse!

But then, after fruitlessly searching, there she was!

Lady Sharra Arryn overlooked the city from the garden's highest perch, with only the birds keeping her company. By the Gods, she was lovely with how she wore her white dress with cerulean linings around her collar and waist, wing-like open sleeves, the way her long silky brown hair flowing in the wind, her blue eyes, her smooth light skin, and the white falcon and crescent moon on a blue background necklace she hung around her neck, her curvaceous slender figure, her grace, her intelligence; the tales of her beauty did not exaggerate. They regarded Sharra as one of the most beautiful women in Westeros. Indeed, Daemon heard Alayne set her up with a multitude of suitors seeking her hand in marriage but turned them all away as she did not love any of them. Her looks were one thing, but what separated her from other highborn ladies her age was how incredibly perspective she was. Her mind was sharp as a tack!

"*Woof! Woof!*"

Sharra turned around to see the dog barking. "Well hello you," she smiled. Upon kneeling to pet him, the dog was already licking her cheeks—eliciting a chuckle as she turned away. "Oh my! Brave knight, have you come to protect me?" she said playfully.

"*Woof! Woof!*" the dog wagged its tail.

"You're such a big softie. Aren't you? Aren't you? Yes, you are!"

"*Woof! Woof!*"

Daemon grinned as he made his way over. "Have no fear, my lady. I'll protect you," he boldly declared.

Sharra looked up at him and stood. "Can you now?" she raised an eyebrow. "Hmm. I'm not so sure about that. You don't particularly strike me as… tough. Convince me if you believe otherwise. Perhaps you can provide a demonstration of your prowess?"

Oh, you will regret saying that. Daemon smirked. The Prince took both of Sharra's hands in his. Before she could respond, Daemon leaned in close and claimed her lips. Sharra felt her cheeks flushed, her eyes widened with stunned surprise as she was taken aback when the Prince kissed her. After an initial pause, Sharra relented and reciprocated the kiss. Her lips were soft, and the act of affection itself was a gentle one, full of trust, warmth. When the two eventually pulled away to catch their breaths, Daemon brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Well? How was that?" he asked cheekily.

"I… all right, it wasn't bad. Not bad. Just… caught me by surprise is all," she replied. Sharra soon regained her composure; she was serious this time. "I thought you'd never wake up. You certainly took your sweet time doing so. Did Jarger tell you I wanted to speak to you before meeting with the other delegates at parliament?"

Daemon shifted uncomfortably. He knew how intimidating Sharra can be when she's serious. "He did, yes. Why? Did something happen?"

"In a way. You remember how everyone in the capital has been rather upset with your brother, but it's not just King's Landing—all of Westeros seems to be growing angrier at him more than usual. And it's only just the beginning." She sighed with weariness. "Listen, just about a month ago when the Prime Minister called to convene a parliamentary session, we heard a rather disturbing rumor."

"What rumor?"

"That King Argilac had executed his seventh Hand, Lord Wilmund Bracken, for a supposed slight against him. Word has it that the King has been cracking down on what he calls 'unruly dissent' even harder than the last. Restricting individual freedoms, imposing unreasonable curfews… all of it. He even had the tongue of a factory worker ripped out for having the courage to demand safer, cleaner working conditions. He believes that anyone speaking out on his unacceptable behavior is committing an act of treason—which is entirely untrue. Even if the allegations did have merit, you can imagine how people are talking. From Dorne to Winterfell, the rest of us are talking about it all. I fear it might cause a civil war."

"But what can I possibly do? My brother won't listen to anyone."

"I know. Parliament is growing more anxious. That's why I told the Prime Minister and Lord Speaker that you'd address their concerns."

Daemon felt unsure. "Me?"

Sharra nodded. "I know it sounds unfair, and it's asking much. The people, the kingdom… they despise their King. Argilac is a tyrant, but there are some still who care for their Prince. You still have allies if you play your cards right. Can you speak to them? Say something to allay their fears? I'm afraid of what might happen if things don't calm down."

"If… you're certain…"

"I am. Will you do it?"

The Prince pondered at such a request; with the recent rumors spreading around regarding his older brother, the growing unrest, the threat of civil war… By the Gods, things were spiraling out of control. Things were different when his mother and grandfather were alive. He wondered how they would think about the current situation brought on by Argilac. But they are both gone now, as did the last Baratheon Kings and Queens who came and went before him. Daemon and Argilac are the only Baratheons left in existence. But what can he do? He is just one man! He'd be going against his brother, yet even the thought of confronting him in person turns his stomach in knots and sends a chill crawling up and down his spine.

Either way, his decision would leave an impact on what course the kingdom will take. Either way, there is no coming back from what is bound to happen next.

"Alright. I'll do it," Daemon conceded.

Sharra smiled. "You will? Oh! Thank you, Daemon," she breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps this will give Argilac a moment of pause. Even if he does not, then surely the Prime Minister will buy us some time to prepare. By my ancestors, on my honor as an Arryn, let us pray that the Gods will be as merciful this time.

Following protocol, as a young man of his stature Daemon politely extended his arm out to Sharra – which she responded by sliding her arm through to lock around Daemon's. Both strolled through the gardens until they walked out the Red Keep's gates down Aegon's High Hill before arriving at a carriage which was closely guarded by House Arryn's chosen bodyguards.

"The Vale delegation stands ready. We are prepared to depart at your word, my lady," one of them said.

"Good," she said. "Take us to the Street of the Sisters post haste."

"At once, my lady. Alright, lads! Saddle up!"

Sharra crawled into the carriage with Daemon following closely behind her. They were seated across each other when the door was shut and the carriage started moving towards their destination: the Westerosi Parliament on the Street of the Sisters in the center of King's Landing near the Great Sept of Baelor and the Dragonpit. No doubt the other members of parliament will be there to discuss recent events – all of whom made both youths feel uncertain.

"I still can't believe your brother could have had Lord Bracken executed. The man was simply doing his duty," Sharra whispered.

Daemon nodded. "I know. Sometimes I don't understand what goes through Argilac's head… like, something caused him to be this way. But I doubt it. He's treated everyone the way he does ever since we were little. 'The younger bows before the elder,' he'd always say. Said it right before he beat me every single time. Never let me forget it."

"Just because he was born ahead of you doesn't mean he has to rub it in every chance he gets."

"I know, right?" he exasperated. "So… who else knows about this gathering, other than the Prime Minister and Lord Speaker? Or anyone in parliament for that matter?"

"I told Professor Samson," Sharra explained. "He might be one of the university's best lecturers, but he's a former soldier and a war hero. He'll be there to support you if something goes wrong."

"Just wouldn't feel right without him. Let's hope nothing further complicates matters than it already has."

Chapter End

Author's Note: Well guys, here finally comes the sequel. Again, I'm rather rusty at it. The setting is different. We've got new characters, new places, and overall a new timeline, 800 years give or take. So much of this will be equivalent to the Industrial Revolution (1760 – 1840) – meaning there will be the inclusion of black powder firearms but swords, axes, maces, bows and arrows will be retained for close-quarters combat scenes use as Westeros enters closer to the modern age. Kind of like the "Fable" video games and the "Pirates of the Caribbean" movies. A lot has changed since Trials and Tribulations of the Oathkeeper. How will the descendants of Daveth Baratheon handle the winds of change? Let me know.

One more thing to add, I'll be doing some Q&A for the reviews so incase you guys have questions for me it'll take around 15-30 minutes for a response to be seen. And because of my job, I'll be posting stories a bit later than usual.

Necros The Saiyan knight: this reminds me oddly enough of fable 3

Robeka998: I'm excited to see what will happen. I loved trials and tribulations of the oathkeeper. So I'm excited to see this new journey of Daveth's descendant!

Dj Wolfenstien: I am looking forward to seeing how this story goes and how everything plays out

C.E.W: Interesting story, looking forward to seeing more. Please proceed when you can.

JohnoSnippert: I've recently been looking through the GOT fanon page and I've loved every single one of them. Kudos for writing the Trials and Tribulations fanfiction, was amazing as well. However, I noticed that you have had a shared universe with another creator? He seemed inactive but I was wondering if he will partake in this fanfiction. Lots of love from Australia.