Chapter 32
GALEN
The journey to Braavos was a perilous one. First, it was the fever that kept his mind addled, and later it was the Milk of the Poppey that dulled his mind as he tried to bear through the pain of losing his arm.
The Black Cells were the epitome of all that is needed to precipitate an infection, and the wound left by Daemon Targaryen had become infected long before Elsa had come to rescue him.
They had tried, yet there was no way to save his arm, and so he himself had asked it to be cut. At the time, he had made the most logical and medically sane choice, and yet the regret from that still lingered as he felt pain throb through his non-existent arm.
Phantom pain, yet it numbed his mind nonetheless. He resisted the urge to reach for the Milk of Poppy, as he tried to regain some of his better senses, yet the desire for sanity came at a cost.
A great cost.
Yet he chose to bear it, for in front of him lay a piece of paper and a quill. It lay there as it had been for the past five days, as words failed him. A part of him knew that he should write. That she deserved to know the truth, and yet he did not know what to tell her.
Was he to apologise for being taken away? Apologise for having his life saved? Or was he to write of their love, and how it had nearly cost him his life?
Was he to be angry or apologetic? Did he need to explain his loyalties to her?
He did not know what to write, and so the page remained empty, and the quill unmoved as he grit his teeth and let the pain pass through him. He had been accused of treason, of collaborating with an enemy entity to damage the Crown and its standing.
Treason.
He had only ever tried to help them. Tried to repay a favor done to him by Maegella Targaryen, and yet all he had received in return was betrayal. It was orchestrated, obviously.
The Maesters had obviously played their part in it, yet in the end, it had been the Crown that had arrested him and put him into that cell. It was the Crown and its machinations that had robbed him of his hand and his dearest friends.
Garlan and the rest had left their own work to come and help him. They had put their own lives at risk, and yet the machinations had cost them those lives, and now he had left over a dozen orphans in his wake.
He had met their families, delivered their children, and cared for their wives. Their kids had called him an uncle, and now they were all orphans, stranded in a city that was about to be devoured by the deadliest plague possible.
His heart ached as he thought of them, and all that he could do for them in that moment was cry and apologise.
"I am sorry," he whispered, though he knew that his words meant little. But he needed to do something. He felt that he owed Garlan and his friends to do something.
For he was the one responsible for their deaths.
And as thoughts of guilt and pain tore through his heart and mind, suddenly the round ringing of a bell shook him out of his trance, as he felt the rustle of the bustle of sailors and shipwrights from beyond his door. Slowly, he got up and walked onto the deck and saw their ship sail through the legs of the infamous Titan of Braavos.
They were in Braavos, finally.
"Healer," and Elsa noticed him on the deck and rushed to him at once, and he had never thought that one day his little act of kindness would win him her loyalty for life. He had saved her life, but he had saved thousands of others, yet many of them had chosen to turn on him.
"You should rest," she advised as she reached for his arm to support him, and he smiled and raised a brow.
"I thought I was the Healer?" he questioned, and unlike someone else, her lips did not rise with joy, nor did she roll her eyes at him as a pang of sadness and regret began to tear at his heart.
"It is one of the Wonders of the World, I wish to see it and I grow tired of sitting in that room doing nothing," and she relented as he helped him to the edge of the boat, and he could see quite a few gazes at him, though he ignored them all as their ship sailed through the Titans legs and into the waters of Braavos.
And immediately the purple of Braavos became apparent, and he saw hundreds of ships, small and large, sailing through the lagoon with sails tinted with Braavos's iconic purplish hue.
The city was a collection of mangled isles, connected to one another through bridges and barges, and the ship took them to one of the ports. Their merchant friend came and led him to his home.
It was a small place, with hardly enough room to accommodate both him and Elsa. His family was kind, as they shared their food and home with them, yet he knew that he could not burden them for much longer.
Not that he would have to, for a few days after their arrival in the city, he called for his savior.
"I do remember you," Galen began as the merchant sat in front of him, and the man raised a brow in surprise.
"You do?" he asked, and Galen nodded.
"You had come to the Citadel to have your daughter treated. You had made the journey from Braavos using what little savings you had," and the man seemed stunned that he remembered it all.
"You do remember," and he was amongst the first people he had treated after he had been kicked out of the Citadel, and the man had done well for him, and so had his daughter, who was now to be married soon.
"I do, and that is why I must ask you this," and his tone grew somber.
"You are a good man. A kind man, yet you did not come to my aid on your own, did you?" and there was guilt and shame in those eyes as soon as he uttered those words, and ever since they had arrived in his home, Galen had observed how the man in front of him did not have the means that he had used to save him.
"I..." but he stopped him, as Galen cut in.
"I am not angry, but do not lie to me. I have had enough of lies," he whispered, and the man hesitated for a moment before he nodded and gave him just the answer he had expected.
"I received a letter...."
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GAEL
Baelon had made a mistake.
He had made a grave mistake, and now the entire city was paying the price for it. The Maesters had lied to him, and though they had no proof of it, she was certain that they had a role in bringing down Galen as well.
Yet, despite their actions, it was obvious that the Crown could not make a move against them, for it needed them. It needed them now more than ever, for the plague that Galen had kept at bay had now taken over the entire kingdom.
Baelon had opened the gates and bays, and initially nothing had happened yet. Within a few weeks, Miadenpool had written of a dozen people coming down with it, and later on, letters had arrived from White Harbor, Old Town, and a few whispers from Spice Town had reached the capital as well, but by then the damage had been done.
The plague then spread like fire, and she saw more people die within seven days than had died in two moons of Galen's efforts. It was a testament to his prowess as a healer, and now, as the dead piled onto the streets of Fleabottom, people lost their loved ones, and they realised the gravity of their mistake.
They cried and mourned the loss of their loved ones, yet in that moment, they remembered the kindness of one man as well. One man who had stood by them in their sickness, and yet in their blind hatred, they had turned against him and slaughtered his friends.
But it was far easier to blame others for their actions, and just as her brother chose to blame his son, the people chose to blame the Crown. Already, many whispered of anger and mistrust piling up within the people, as they blamed the Crown for their own behavior and misfortune.
The Maesters had finally accepted the reality of the plague, and without Galen, it fell to them to deal with it, though they remained as clueless as ever about dealing with it as she tried to build upon Galen's work, which was easier said than done.
The guards and the mob had destroyed the Hospital, and all of the apprentices had abandoned the place, and she did not blame them for it. Still, she had spent days looking through piles upon piles of books and pages, as she tried to rebuild Galen's efforts.
In the end, after half a moon's work, she looked up at the room and realised that Galen had narrowed down the vector to three things.
Water. Rats. Ticks.
And he had done that within two moons, and she wondered just how many lives they would have managed to save had her brother not accused him of treason. Still, she waited for him to write to her, waited for him to send her just a single letter if he was alive.
Right now, she did not even know if he was still alive or not.
She could only imagine the pain and anguish that he must have felt. How torn he must have been when they had killed his friends and put him into the Black Cells, accusing of treason.
Him.
The very person who was toiling day and night to save their people. Their city.
And yet they had thanked him for it with death and betrayal. All of them, including her.
"Seven help me," and with that, she turned around to the small gathering of men that had chosen to answer her call, and she remembered some of them before when Galen had stood in her place.
Their eyes had been filled with determination and awe, and yet all she saw now was fear.
"I should not be the one standing here," she began as she addressed them, even though that was the last thing that she desired to do.
But she could not abandon the small folk. She could not abandon Galen's work, and so she would use it, build upon it, and make sure that his legacy would live on even in his absence.
That one day, when he would have the heart to forgive her, and her family, he would have a place here in the kingdom for him. She would make sure of that, as both Princess and Gael.
"But circumstances and plots have robbed us of Galen and his mind. We do not know yet if it was by design or destiny, but Healer Galen is not with us, for now," and he would return. He would.
"But it is our duty to continue his legacy until he returns. The city is dying, and the plague has spread to the other parts of the Kingdom as well, and so we must find the way it spreads so that we can stop it," and with that, she pointed towards the three things Galen had narrowed it down to.
"Galen was certain that the way it spreads is through either water, ticks, or rats. One of the three, and while we will warn the people to be cautious around all three, we must work to figure out which one of the three is truly spreading this disease," she finished, and yet it was nothing like how Galen would speak when he had addressed the Healers.
His words would often be magical, and would have people do wonders, and yet all she saw in the eyes in front of her was doubt.
"You have questions?" she asked, and they nodded.
"Why did they accuse him of treason?" one of the young ones asked.
"It was a grave mistake," and she held her tongue, for the Crown had enough troubles on its own, lest she add to them.
"Which has been corrected, and the accusations have been dropped. Galen was no traitor," she assured them.
"Is he even still alive?" one of them asked and she nodded.
"Yes," she replied, hoping that her words were true.
"They say he left the city," and it seemed like rumors had spread as well.
"Will he even return?" they added.
"He will," she said more resolutely than she had intended.
"When?" they probed.
"In four years," she answered, taking everyone by surprise with her conviction.
"How can you say that?"
"Because he made a promise...."
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