After The Dragons Danced (A Rhaena Targaryen SI)

[neyra]

"When the time is right, you will be queen of the Seven Kingdoms just as Father, Rhaenyra and Grandmother always wished you to be. But not yet."

What? Is this to suggest that Jaehaera is to be killed or set aside? Why? Marrying competing claims to unite the bloodlines makes sense politically. Secures peace within Westeros and a great symbolic presentation of the Dance being over. Can't just be irrational pettiness to undo this. Is it because Baela rides Silverwing ?

Click to shrink...

Rhaena, Baela and Aegon hate the Greens. You have to remember that Aegon II, was torturing Baela & Aegon III and messing with their heads using death threats.

Click to shrink...

Why not? Why should you resolve competing bloodlines when you have absolute power? Why let the daughter of your enemy be Queen and let her children rule when you are the dragonlords?

Click to shrink...

The lords can take up their symbols and political sense with Silverwing.

There's no way you put in all this legwork to restore your house and allow someone else to run it. Tis personal for Baela and Rhaena.

 

[neyra]

Also, just to point this out, the main reason Rhaenyra needed Baela to marry Jace was to secure Velaryon support because her son was a bastard. Not out of some personal wish or genuine care for Baela's station in life. Same with Rhaena being betrothed to Luke. Rhaena was meant to provide another cloak of legitimacy and protection to Lucerys 'Velaryon '.

Click to shrink...

I'd argue that Rhaenyra married the twins to Jace and Luke to secure Daemon's support. Him, his dragon, and his wife's dragon were the most important thing in that calculus.
But, that 's besides the point.
Why does it have to be one thing or the other? The Black kids were close to each other, that suggests that their relation as a family unit was strong. Rhaenyra could have betrothed the twins to his sons to both secure support and due to the care she has for them, due to them being her best friend's daughters.

 

[Wolffils]

The lords can take up their symbols and political sense with Silverwing.

There's no way you put in all this legwork to restore your house and allow someone else to run it. Tis personal for Baela and Rhaena.

Click to shrink...

Valid enough reason I suppose. When you have fire-breathing dragons as your personal mounts, autocracy and absolutism are inevitable.

 

[neyra]

Valid enough reason I suppose. When you have fire-breathing dragons as your personal mounts, autocracy and absolutism are inevitable.

Click to shrink...

The goal is to institutionalise that absolutism. To make it not depedant upon the dragons.

 

[neyra]

9th Day, Ninth Moon, 131 AC | The Red Keep - King's Landing

CORLYS VELARYON

As was the custom engrained by his grandfather since he was but a boy, Corlys arrived at the small council chambers earlier than the meeting was set to begin. His granddaughters were with him. Both were dressed in black garb with accents of red, Rhaena in a gown, and Baela with an overcoat with breeches and a shirt underneath. Every day, they reminded Corlys more and more of their formidable grandmother and their lovely mother. He struggled not to think about them.

The council room was empty, as expected. The table in the council chambers had been changed from the traditional square one that had been there since the time of the Conciliator, to a circular one. Huh! That was strange. Still, the seats designated for the different councillors remained as they had always been. He took the seat assigned the Hand of the King, a position his granddaughters had secured him. Schemers were lying in the dark, Rhaena had said, and they required someone loyal to head the council until they came of age. That they still trusted him enough with such a responsibility warmed his heart. He would not disappoint them. All he did now, he did for his grandchildren. His days trying to build his own legacy were dead and gone. The time for his grandchildren, on the other hand, had just begun.

Rhaena sat quietly in the seat to his right, resuming her writing. She had been doing that a lot since the war had come to an end and she had returned from the Vale. He had asked what she spent so many hours putting down, and her response was always incredibly cryptic, boiling down to 'plans and ideas'. The twins seemed to have much of those of late.

Few in the realm might have caught on, but Baela and Rhaena were an ascending power. They were the most senior members of the royal house, not counting Saera, Vaegon and Rhaella, whom the realm hard largely forgotten. They held great influence over their kingly brother, more than Jaehaera could ever hope to have from what he had seen. Save for the occasion of royal wedding two days past, the twins were the only Targaryens the commonfolk ever saw. Baela apparently spent time with the reformed City Watch in taverns, winesinks and sometimes during their patrols, while Rhaena visited many orphanages, which had swollen in size and number due to her patronage, and gave alms to the poor wherever she encountered them while in the city. But above all, the two of them were the only remaining dragonlords in the world.

Baela had claimed Silverwing from a far flung corner of the realm, where she had nested for a year as a wild dragon. That action alone had massively tilted the balance of power to their side. If there were any remaining lords who still called themselves greens, they would definitely rethink the foolishness of rebelling. Rhaena had a dragon too; Morning, a remarkably fast-growing hatchling that seemed to double in size every moon. When she had first returned to King's Landing, the little dragon was the size of a newborn pup, coiled about Rhaena like a stole, but now she was the size of an adult wolf. It would not be long until Rhaena flew her, Corlys knew from his knowledge on dragons, and when she did, their power would be solidified further.

A lesson that had served him well since he had been a boy, aspiring for adventure and riches for House Velaryon, was that one would only benefit by making themselves indispensable to those in power. Through his rise as the intrepid adventurer he was known as now, he always courted the favour of rulers in order to get what he desired. Be it emperor of Yiti to get exclusive trading rights for their goods, or the magisters of the Free Cities to get favourable terms for the Velaryon fleet, and even the dragon kings of Westeros, the principle worked the same.

He had wished to gain tax reductions, favourable tolls and charters for Spicetown and Hull, so he had made his fleet indispensable to the Conciliator. He had desired for his descendants to have dragonblood and become kings, so he had used his charm on Rhaenys and she had fallen hard. Now, he had one more desire, before the Stranger sentenced his soul to eternal damnation in the seven hells.

Corlys desired for his grandchild, his Velaryon grandchild, Alyn, to inherit Driftmark. It was only recently that the realisation came to him of how dangerously close to the brink House Velaryon was. Many of the minor branches, the descendants of his grandfather's and great-grandfather's brothers, had turned against him during the war, many of them dying by dragonflame and the rest leaving Westeros altogether, becoming outlaws and pirates of the high seas. Such a drastic culling of their family branches had not happened since the Winter Shivers of 59 AC. In truth, only him, his grandson Alyn, his distant cousin Monford, and his grand-nephews Daeron and Daemion, remained as true Velaryons.

There was a very real possibility that Corlys would be the last Velaryon Lord of Driftmark. Alyn might be the only remaining true son of his heir, but he had been born outside the bonds of marriage, and therefore had to be legitimised by the bitch queen in order to be recognised as such. Baela however, faced no such impediment. If Alyn had remained Alyn of Hull, Baela would be the rightful ruling Lady of Driftmark. Even now, Alyn's legitimacy was paper-thin compared to Baela's. Some even alleged that Alyn was his bastard son. He laughed every time he heard that baseless rumour. Meleys would have surely enjoyed him as a snack had he dared stray from his wife's bed.

Daeron and Daemion did not think Alyn legitimate in any sense of the word, after the unjust death of their father Vaemond under the tyranny of the bitch. But, their frustrations were utterly inconsequential compared to a dragonlord. There was truly nothing stopping Baela from claiming Driftmark now that she rode the largest dragon in the world. He would have to settle the matter, and soon. The Velaryon name had to live on. He could not let his island, his home, be taken away from his house.

The sound of the door opening once more and people walking in snapped him out of his musings. In walked the Grand Maester Munkun, a man of less than forty, who held himself with a gait that was common in one who was highborn. That he had been raised to Archmaester already spoke either to being favoured or his brilliance, Corlys did not know which. Following him was the same man that he had seen Rhaena speak with during the feast, Maegoro Paenymion if he recalled correctly. The lad held a marked resemblance to the Old King when he had been young. After him entered a tall man, with bright blue hair, pale skin and blue eyes with a clean-shaven face. Prince Reggio Narratys of Pentos.

The three of them took their seats. Rhaena shut the book she had been writing on and Baela shut the volume she had been reading. Corlys then pronounced the meeting to have begun, after observing the customary courtesies and greetings.

Rhaena spoke first, "Maegoro, Prince Reggio. You've two have been our family's allies for longer than the two of us have been alive. I wish to assure you that the friendship our father established with your two families shall not be forgotten."

"Thank you. You honour us princess." they chorused.

"Our father united your two cities against the tyranny of the Triarchy," Baela joined. "That is the purpose of our meeting between the three of us today. You both want to conquer the Disputed Lands and annex the cities of the fallen Triarchy into your own territories."

Corlys could see a sudden stiffening of the two Essosi noblemen's posture.

"The Iron Throne has interests of its own with those same cities," Rhaena continued, "we desire retribution for their brazen attack of the Gullet during the war. Of course, we'll give them a chance to pay reparations to the Iron Throne for this. Should they refuse, then Lys, Myr and Tyrosh will be sacked, their riches taken. We also plan to finish what our father began all those years ago by formally annexing the Stepstones into our realm."

The two men opposite him of them stiffened some more.

"But, I wish to assure the both of you that mainland Essos shall be left alone. We only wish for the chain of islands in the Narrow Sea, and for the Three Whores to face vengeance for their attack and the death of one of our own. Is that something both of your cities can agree to?"

Both men nodded.

The next hour was spent defining the new borders of Volantis and Pentos once their conquests were done. Both of them agreed that their conquests would only begin once Baela and Rhaena had sacked Lys, Myr and Tyrosh. New tolls for passage of their ships through the Stepstones were agreed on too, tolls that would see neither party feel too disadvantaged. He helped in this regard where the twins' knowledge fell short. Satisfied, the meeting came to an end once both of them appended their signatures onto the document Maester Munkun had drafted, which described all these terms. Rhaena sent the serving girl who had been acting as cupbearer for the meeting to call for Braavos' representative.

"You should have told them that you intended to conquer the Island of Tyrosh too," Corlys told his granddaughters, once the two men had left and the Maester had excused himself for a short while, "they may take such a conquest as an infringement upon their sovereignty and retaliate. Even though you have dragons, war against the Free Cities can be… inconvenient."

"We said it though, didn't we?" Baela replied, "the writ they signed specifies that we're interested in the islands of the Narrow Sea. That includes Tyrosh."

Corlys shook his head. Aye, it might be clever wording, but the Free Cities might take it as a slight too.

"Perhaps you should meet with the representatives of the other cities too and assuage their concerns that the sacking of Lys, Myr and Tyrosh might bring up. It's always better to make your work as easy as possible. You might even find more allies among them."

Rhaena looked thoughtful, "You make a good point Grandfather. We shall meet with the other Free Cities too. But we are hoping for them to go to war against each other as they always have. Volantis' Tigers desire to subjugate the territory Old Valyria once ruled, as they always have. They will obviously go beyond the borders of the agreement we've reached today, and the other cities will push back. There could be an all-out war in Essos for years, years that we shall use to consolidate our hold on Tyrosh and the Stepstones.

"We might even use their wars to enrich our own coffers. Aegon the First joined an Essosi war on the side of the coalition of the other Free Cities against Volantis before he conquered Westeros. We do not plan on making the same mistake."

Corlys replied, "You would be content with having another slaver empire rise in the East?"

Baela spoke this time, "A conquest of that magnitude is unlikely to be successful with armies alone. However, an attempt at such gives us a unique opportunity. Volantis surely remembers that the intervention of the Black Dread effectively ended their ambitions the last time. This time, we will threaten to join one side or the other, unless we are convinced not to."

He was quick to understand Baela's meaning. That was actually not a bad idea. They would profit from the chaos across the Narrow Sea, and use that profit to restore their house's rule in their own realm.

The door opened once more, and the Kingsguard outside announced, "Lord Tormo Antaryon, son of Sealord Syrio Antaryon of Braavos."

The man was fairly short, dressed in a black doublet and breeches. His hair was the same colour as his eyes, a shining black that flowed down past his shoulders. This was certainly an improvement to the wastrel that his daughter had been bound to. A boy so pathetic that his own father exiled him immediately he had sired a younger son. That the Sealord of that time had foisted that fool onto to him, essentially breaking the teeth of their alliance to a house of dragonriders (at least at that time), testified to Braavos' apathy to anything relating to Valyria.

He hoped that the Antaryon family, who had only recently taken up rule of Braavos after deposing and exterminating the family that Laena was once bound to, was more tractable than his predecessors. The issue Baela and Rhaena meant to raise with them was a much more contentious one, one that even the Conciliator could not solve.

"It is a pleasure to have the audience of the princesses of Westeros," the man said, "my father hopes that the friendship between Braavos and Westeros will reach new heights. On behalf of our exalted city, I'd like to apologise for our predecessors' horrid behaviour. Sending Faceless Men after you and your family once Lady Laena had her betrothed killed and ran away with your father was quite a short sighted thing to do."

Subtlety seemed to be what he was going for. Extending the offer of friendship with one hand while reminding them that their city had a guild of assassins that could disguise themselves as anyone in the world with the other.

"Ah, we do not hold the sins of the past over the possibilities of the future. And our father thwarted that attack quite effectively if I recall correctly," Rhaena replied, a practised smile on her face. Two could play that game.

Tormo Antaryon smiled a nervous smile too, "As a token of our friendship, I would like you to know that the part of the treasury that was entrusted to us by the usurper is on its way to King's Landing. It should arrive before the end of today or the beginning of tomorrow."

"Of course. Thank you Lord Tormo." Baela replied, before getting straight to the point of why they had asked for the meeting in the first place, "House Targaryen desires the return of the three dragon's eggs that Elissa Farman stole from Princess Rhaena more than half a century ago."

"Oh," the man replied, seemingly gobsmacked. He certainly had not planned on that issue being revisited.

Corlys himself had made the proposition of buying those eggs back from Braavos soon after he had married Rhaenys, to keep them for his children. Rhaenys had shut down that idea immediately, fearful of antagonising the Old King so soon after her inheritance had been stripped from her. The issue died soon after, for Meleys had gone on to lay three clutches of eggs, two of which hatched, one into Seasmoke, and the other into the deformed creature that Rhaena had been bound to before she hatched Morning. That egg had been Laena's before she had claimed Vhagar. Rhaena had been so dejected after it had died only hours after it was born. The rest of those eggs had been destroyed during the sacking of High Tide.

"We'll make it worth your while to be sure," Rhaena continued. "Those eggs have not been useful to Braavos in any way thus far, only a monument to the arrogance of the Sealord of King Jaehaerys' time. Gold would be more useful to you. Say, half a million dragons perhaps?"

Subtlety had all but vanished from Tormo's face. Surprise was plain on Corlys' too, although he struggled to hide it too. Half a million was an outrageous amount. Elissa Farman had certainly not gotten that when she sold the eggs to Braavos. Her payment had only been her ship, Sunchaser. A fine ship yes, but certainly not worth half a million golden dragons.

Tormo smiled, "I believe that would be fair amount."

"Good," Baela replied.

Maester Munkun finally returned and drafted the concordat detailing the agreement the twins would make with Braavos. It was agreed that the three eggs would be brought over with all haste from Braavos. The arrival to King's Landing was estimated to be a fortnight at most. Once the eggs were brought over, the agreed amount for payment would be delivered to the Iron Bank of Braavos before the moon turned.

Another hour was spent negotiating and renegotiating trade agreements between King's Landing and Braavos. Two hundred thousand more golden dragons would be entrusted into the care of the Iron Bank for two decades, the rates of interest on that investment were set quite favourably for Westeros; it would take only a decade for that amount to double. The twins' intention of annexing the Stepstones and sacking the Triarchy was made clear to the Braavosi, who seemed even excited at that prospect. His only condition was for the Iron Throne to ensure that no slave ships would pass through those isles. That was easy enough for the princesses to agree to. The tolls that Braavos would pay for their ship to pass through the isles were also discussed and agreed upon.

The meeting came to an end and once Lord Tormo left with his copy of the document containing the agreements they had reached. The Grand Maester departed once more. Once the three of them were alone, Corlys had to say it, "Half a million golden dragons is way too much for three dragon eggs."

"Don't worry Grandfather. We will get millions more once we sack Lys, Myr and Tyrosh. And who says that Braavos will keep that gold?" Baela said menacingly. Gods she had so much of her father in her.

"But those are plans for much later on," Rhaena added her voice to her sister's, "For now they have no reason to target us, so we'll let them be. But, we cannot let such a formidable order as the Faceless Men continue to exist. We'll strike them down soon enough."

By the evening, he and the twins had met with the rest of the representatives of the Free Cities. All of them were glad to be rid of the threat of the Triarchy for good and all. The Free Cities did not yet know of Volantis' and Pentos' ambition of annexing the Disputed Lands. He hoped things would go as well on that front; that the Volantenes would get greedy and ignite a war with the rest of Essos. That would only be good for Westeros.

Supper that night was a lively affair. His granddaughters were conscripting their brother and his friend, the usurper's bastard boy Gaemon Palehair, into a game apparently invented by Rhaena. The food was delicious too. There were fillets of spiced salmon, dripping with a glaze made of olive oil, parsley and lemon juice; baked in clay. Accompanying it was freshly baked oat bread, with wine to wash it down, although the twins, their brother and their cousin drank grape juice instead.

"Checkmate, Baela. I win!" the boy king shouted softly, as excited as Corlys had ever seen him since the war ended.

Rhaena, who had been playing with Gaemon, turned to inspect Baela and Aegon's game, and he had indeed won. Rhaena and Gaemon proceeded to laugh uproariously at Baela, while Aegon joined with his own soft chuckles. Baela rolled her eyes at his sibling's and cousin's antics as she then proceeded to rearrange the board once more.

"Best of three. You shall not win again," Baela promised.

"After we've had our supper," Rhaena said, before turning to her brother, "some of us have not eaten for the entire day."

The boy king shied away from her sister's gaze.

Soon enough, animated chatter was heard around the circular dining table as the five of them ate. Even Corlys joined from time to time, listening keenly as Rhaena explained to him how this new game she had invented worked. It was actually not as complex as he had thought it would be. He would try it.

Dinner ended, the plates were cleared, and Baela challenged her brother to another round of chess. Gaemon set up his own board to play with Rhaena once more, but she announced her intention to leave.

"I have to meet with the High Septon," Rhaena said.

"Now?" Aegon asked.

"Aye. His days are as busy as are hours. It'll be better for the meeting to get done as soon as possible, before he returns to Oldtown," Rhaena replied.

"Take a complement of guards with you," Baela said. Rhaena nodded then shut the door behind her.

"Baela," Corlys offered, "a game?"

"Sure, Grandfather," Baela said as she changed seats to situate herself on the other side of the table, "you have first move. White always starts." Gaemon moved to be seated opposite Aegon and they began a game of their own. Corlys moved the center pawn forward two steps.

"I wished to speak to you of an issue I think deserves your consideration," he began.

Baela gave him a searching look before she replied, "Is this concerning the inheritance of Driftmark?" She moved her knight to the centre of the board.

"Aye." He copied Baela's action, moving his own knight to the centre of the board as well.

"Let me guess. You are afraid that I'll easily take it from cousin Alyn since I ride a dragon and he does not. And you want to solve this by having me marry him." Baela moved her right-most pawn forward two steps.

Huh. He hadn't even considered such a match. All the same, it was unlikely to happen. He knew that both Baela and Rhaena would marry Aegon and make themselves Queens of the Seven Kingdoms once they did away with Jaehaera. Mayhaps it was why Rhaena was courting the favour of the High Septon. Corlys brought out his septon to attack her queen.

"You're right concerning the first part. Both you and Rhaena are dragonlords, the only dragonlords left in the world. You are going to sack Lys, Myr and Tyrosh. If it's ships you want, you can seize as many of theirs as you wish to. If it's more lands you wish for, there is much of that in the realm that you can take.

"All I ask is that you let Driftmark pass to your cousin after my death. He is a Velaryon, and one of the last Velaryons at that. That island has been our home for generations. I ask, nay, plead with you, that you let it remain that way." Her queen ate his septon. Argh! He had forgotten that queen had the most power in the game. She could move in all directions.

Aegon suddenly interjected in his soft voice, looking up from his game with Gaemon, "Alyn is your heir Lord Corlys, just as my mother decreed. Baela would not usurp him."

"Tis not usurpation Aegon. It is a legitimate question of succession. Alyn was born a bastard, Rhaena and I were not."

Aegon took a sip of his cup of grape juice before he replied in a voice that was soft but casual, "People said Jace was a bastard too. That did not mean that he was not Mother's heir."

Baela's eyes were full of steel when Corlys turned to her once more. Her face was an impassive mask, but he knew that there was danger behind her eyes. He'd witnessed this same look on Daemon Targaryen's face. Aegon shrivelled under her piercing gaze. Corlys sighed, frustration rising in his belly. The discussion concerning this matter was over for now, he knew. Aegon and his seemingly casual comment had made sure of it.

If there was one thing Corlys knew concerning his granddaughters, is that they would not suffer accusations of their late betrotheds being called bastards without the risk of retaliation. Even more so after they had died in the war. Whether it was because they genuinely thought that they were trueborn and were protecting them, or because they knew the truth and were irrational in the affection they held for them, he had never been sure.

"As you say, Your Grace," Baela grit out the reply as she rose and left the room, her walk poised and deliberate, the game forgotten.

"That was ill done, Your Grace," he told the king solemnly.

"I know, I know," the boy king told him, "I'll speak to her later, when her ire has cooled,"

Corlys only nodded. Why the boy king had sided with him instead of his own sister, he did not know. Perhaps he wished for his mother's decree to be obeyed even after her death. Or he knew that Jacaerys was truly a bastard and felt some kind of sympathy for Alyn because of it. Either way, he would count himself fortunate and hope the king remained on his side.

---

The Castle Sept in the Red Keep - King's Landing

HIS HIGH HOLINESS

The final hymn was being sung, signalling the end to the day's prayers. The castle sept of the Red Keep was full to bursting. It made sense. The court was crowded with nobles from every corner of the realm, who had come to the capital to celebrate the wedding of the boy king and his new queen.

Looking over the congregation, he noticed that the king's sister, Princess Rhaena Targaryen sitting in the front row. He was glad of it. The king and his two sisters had been attending the weekly services in the castle sept and the daily prayers most evenings, according to the faithful who served in the king's court. Sometimes all three of them would come, other times two, and on rare occasions such as today, one of them would attend. The gods had shown them the way it seemed.

Oh, how times had changed. House Targaryen, the house that had warred against the Faith during Maegor's day, now seemed to have become a house of devout worshippers. On the other hand, House Hightower, the house that had been their patrons for thousands of years, the house that had built the Starry Sept to honour the Gods, was now led by a godless heathen who lay with his own mother.

Disgust filled his throat at the thought. Even the Targaryens, the only ones allowed by the Seven to lay with close kin, did not go as far as having fathers bed their own daughters or mothers bed their own sons. It was abominable; the worst sin a man could commit, and any who did would surely be cursed for it. Fear filled him all a sudden. Mayhaps he may be cursed too due to living in the same city as such abominations. He sent a silent prayer to the Father to judge him justly. He was a righteous man, he reminded himself. As one with the rest of the faithful, he had denounced House Hightower and its scions for their grave sin.

The song came to an end, the last prayer was said by one of his sisters and the congregation left the modest castle sept. Princess Rhaena remained behind however, her head bowed in prayer for a few moments longer. He felt proud at the sight. If the rulers of these Seven Kingdoms were devout, then the realm would indeed be restored.

"Your Holiness," the princess called out to him once he was finished with her prayer.

"Princess," he replied, "Seven blessings."

"Seven blessings to you too," she replied as she walked to the pulpit where he was standing. Two knights of the Kingsguard were flanking her. "I hoped we might meet in a more private setting."

"Of course. We can meet in the sept's solar if that is suitable for you."

"It is. Lead the way." The princess said, motioning for him to do so.

"What matters did you wish to speak of, Princess?"

"Your Holiness. I couldn't help but notice the coolness between you and your most valued patrons, the Hightowers. You arrived for the royal wedding celebrations three days after they did, having travelled with Lords Redwyne and Costayne and not them."

His hands clenched instinctually, "Yes. The current Lord Hightower has proven himself to be a degenerate and a sinner. He will be struck down by the Gods for his sins."

"May the Father justly judge him." the princess said, "It is clear they have failed in their duty patrons of the Faith. And it perhaps explains my dreams these days."

At his confused look, the princess continued, "These past few nights, since the day you arrived for the royal wedding, I have had the same constant dream, which has rendered my nights sleepless."

She then reached into a pocket of her coat, pulled out a piece of parchment and handed it to him. On it, there was a drawing, depicting a magnificent building at the top of Visenya's Hill. It was a structure with a great dome and seven slender towers around it. Before the doors leading into the building, there was a raised pulpit where a member of the clergy would give a sermon to the entire city. Around the grand building there was a plaza, which he could tell was capable of holding thousands of people.

"I see it every day, clear as crystal. I see the faithful walking up the grand marble steps into the House of the Seven. I see hundreds of them standing on the polished floors, the depictions of the seven faces of God gleaming as heaven's light streams through the bright dome made of leaded glass. I see the faithful worshipping at the feet of the Father and the Mother, their voices sweet as they sing the their songs."

"You see this in your dreams?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes. I've never had a vision persist this much and be this vivid. I believe the Crone has imparted me with this dream. I believe he wishes us to make it into reality. I do not think my spirit will rest until this Great Sept is built*,* for us the faithful to find solace and be closer to the Seven Who Are One."

Never before had he seen someone speak with this much conviction. The Gods had answered the prayers of the faithful through her, he concluded. If this Great Sept was to be built atop Visenya's Hill, it would only be prudent for the Most Devout to move into it and escape the sinners and degenerates of Oldtown. The faithful would have a refuge here. His decision was made then. He would aid the princess in bringing this vision to life.

"I vow upon the Seven Who Are One, that this vision will come to life, Princess. The faithful will have a refuge once more, one that has not been tainted and corrupted by the lust of monsters and abominations. The Most Devout will stay in a city that knows and practices the tenets of the Faith, not one that is led by a man who has taken his own mother as his lover."

The princess smiled, and he swore it was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen, "It shall be a hard road Your Holiness. It will take years, mayhaps decades to complete, but I know that with the Iron Throne and the Faith working together, we shall see this dream become a reality."

"We shall. Tis the will of the Gods."

---

17th Day, Seventh Moon, 131 AC | The Red Keep - King's Landing

AEGON

The roars of a dragon resounded in his ears. They were loud, screeching, deafening. And with the roars, came the fire. Foul-smelling flames, that were golden like the sun. Suddenly there was screaming, so loud, so harsh, and the blue daylight sky was suddenly torn apart, revealing the darkness underneath.

Aegon shot out of his bed, immediately heading to the privy chambers and emptying the contents of his stomach into the chamberpot. There were tears in his eyes. He let them fall. When it got too much he rushed out of his chambers towards his sisters', the Kingsguard guarding his door falling behind him.

The White Sword guarding Baela's and Rhaena's chambers immediately let him in. Instinctively, he rushed into Rhaena's waiting arms, who was seated at her writing desk, dozens of candles lit in front of her.

"Bad dreams again?" Rhaena said as she embraced him. Aegon only nodded into her shoulder.

"What did you see?" Rhaena asked.

"The dragon burning mother," Aegon answered weakly, as a fresh bout of tears overwhelmed him. His shoulders shook as he sobbed once more.

Rhaena said nothing more as he ran her hands up and down his back and in a languid pace that comforted him. Finally, the tears and the sniffling stopped. He looked up to face her, his eyes red and raw, and his face stained with tear tracks.

"It's okay," Rhaena said as she handed him a cloth to wipe his face, "you're safe now."

He left her embrace after a long moment, "You couldn't sleep too?"

"I slept just after sunset, which is quite early these days because of winter. I woke up two hours ago and I've been here since."

"What are you always writing?" Aegon asked curiously. Almost every free moment she had since she returned from the Vale was spent writing in the massive tomes that Father had gifted her. So far, she had already filled up one of them and was already mid-way through the second.

She gave him a contemplative look, before she spoke once more, "Tis just plans, ideas, and thoughts I have."

"Concerning what?" Aegon asked.

"See for yourself," replied Rhaena.

The filled-up tome was taken out of a shelf next to the desk and given to him. Aegon opened it and curiously went through the pages. On one of the pages, there were designs for what Aegon could tell was a Dragonpit. The structure of this design was quite different to the original one however.

"Is this the Dragonpit?" Aegon asked.

"Yes, a newer, better version of it. For one, there'll be a fort surrounding it, with men stationed atop its battlements to prevent another scenario like the Storming. There'll also be a massive vault, dug deep into the hill, that shall be used to store dragon eggs. That way, if another Storming somehow does happen, the eggs would remain safe. The vault will also help in controlling the number of dragons. This new pit will have more lairs too; sixty, by my estimation, instead of the forty it had before, since the large arena that the first Dragonpit had will not be in this one. It was pointless."

"And where will major occasions of the realm be held?"

Rhaena turned a page and upon it was a design of another structure. It looked to be larger, grander and much more ostentatious than any building he'd ever seen.

"This is a grand sept that shall be built on Visenya's hill. It'll be able to seat thirty thousand people. The High Septon has agreed to provide some funding for it and move the entirety of the Faith's clergy there once it's complete. If there are any large events, they'll be held there."

Aegon was astounded. He knew his histories. Maegor had fought a war with the Faith for the entirety of his reign. Jaehaerys had further curtailed their rights and privileges. They should hold no love for his family, "How did you accomplish that?"

"Lord Hightower married his father's widow. The High Septon thinks that to be incest. Thus the ties between the Faith and the Hightowers have frayed. All I did was show the High Septon that there was a better option. It's why I've been forcing all of you to attend the weekly services and the evening prayers in the sept. The man took the bait after I promised to build a Grand Sept in King's Landing. The Faith will soon be under the crown's control."

"Brilliant!" Aegon couldn't help but exclaim.

"Why, thank you Your Grace," she said in a teasing tone.

Aegon shook his head and continued to flip through the pages. He came across a map of the lands around Harrenhal. This was where Father had died, killing the kinslayer and avenging Lucerys' death. Vhagar and Caraxes had drowned in the God's Eye Lake.

"What do you intend to do with Harrenhal?" Aegon asked his sister.

"Add it to our demesne," Rhaena said, "House Strong is extinct. I know our ancestors chose to give Harrenhal to a new house whenever its former lords died out but we shall not do the same. Those lands are fertile and quite large, there's no reason not to add them to the Crownlands." She then turned the page, "These are the basic drawings of the new castle that will be built there once Silverwing burns Castle Harrenhal."

He nodded his head. He flipped some pages volume once more, before he came upon the drawing of what looked like a ship, but of a kind that he had never seen. They were expert drawings too, one a shipwright could have made.

"You intend to have ships built too?"

"Aye, for the crown's navy. Curious that our house has never had one. We've depended on the Velaryon fleet since the conquest, and it's high time that changed. These are designs for a new kind of ship I've been thinking of, one that's faster than the types of ships we have at present. It'll give us a large advantage over the rest of the world for a time at least, before they catch up."

"Oh," Aegon replied. What else was there to say. His sister was a visionary it seemed.

They spent the rest of the night discussed most of what Rhaena had detailed in those volumes. There were designs for strange devices he had never seen, such as one that could tell time using numbers, or another that could be used for navigation during sailing. The preparations for a conquest and annexation of the island of Tyrosh had been detailed, which he was surprised to find out was going to take place once Viserys was found and brought home next moon. In the far future, they would conquer Dorne as well.

Another account spoke of some organisation cleverly named the 'League of Shadows'. Rhaena's explanation of its inner workings made no sense to him at all, but from the basic understanding he had gained, it was a spy organisation, used to learn what all their potential enemies were upto, and to prevent their house from being targeted from the shadows. Sort of what Larys 'the Clubfoot' had built, Rhaena told him, but on a much larger scale and running much more efficiently.

There was much, much more. And it was all very wondrous and astounding.

"Why do all this, Rhaena? Why dedicate your life to this?"

"Because we need to. The conquerors, for all we revere and venerate them, actually did a very shoddy job in their subjugation of Westeros. The kings after them did even less. Even now, a century and a half later, this continent has no true hegemon. We might call ourselves kings and queens, but our rule depends entirely on the oaths the seven great lords swear to us. Oaths that we've seen can easily be broken.

"All the kingdoms that held power before the conquest still do. Lannister, Stark, Arryn, and Martell were rulers before the dragons came here. They are kings in all but name still; the only difference being that they pay taxes to the Iron Throne. The same case applies to Tully, Baratheon, Tyrell and Greyjoy, whom the first Aegon lifted into power.

"It's because of this power that the war we've endured these past two years even happened in the first place. Otto and his daughter were able to seize the throne out from under us because they had the support of three great lords.

"Now imagine if the dragons all died. Imagine if someone managed to unite these great lords against us. We'd not be able to stop them. We have the smallest demesne and the least number of men to call upon. Even two or three of these kingdoms could easily finish us off."

Aegon pondered what his sister was saying. The memories flashed in his mind. The blade that had penetrated his mother's breast. The maimed and foul-smelling dragon stalking forward. Golden flames bellowing out of the dragon's maw and consuming her. Oh, no, no, no, no, no! No! This could not be happening.

"Aegon! Aegon! Aegon, are you well?" Rhaena called out frantically as she held his shoulders in place. He was shaking, he realised. He was shaking, and he could not stop it.

"Breathe… Aegon… Breathe… Breathe…" his sister tried to calm him, "In through your nose, out through your mouth."

He did as she asked. It took a long while before he was calm again.

"You're safe, you're safe. Nothing will harm you," Rhaena told him as her hands combed his hair while they were locked in an embrace.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me." Aegon apologised, embarrassed.

"No need to apologise brother. I'm here. I'm here and you're here too. And I shall do everything in my power to make sure it stays that way."

"What can I do?" Aegon asked, "what can I do to help you make these plans come true? I don't… I don't want what happened to our family to happen again. I don't know if I can bear it."

"For now, study and learn. History, swordplay, warfare, sums; everything and anything that a king requires to have learned. I'll involve you in all the plans we shall make, I promise you that; but if you in turn promise to make sure they stay secret between us."

"I promise."

"Very well. Also, make sure to attend all the council meetings held. You are the king, you should make sure that you have an understanding of the matters that go on in your realm. Let your presence be known. Let your voice be heard. If there's anything that you don't understand, ask me, Baela or our grandfather. For now, they're the only people we can trust."

A vigorous nod of his head was all the reply needed.

"Now go. Dawn is breaking and the time for your training nears. I'm sure Ser Corwyn is already waiting for you. I need to bathe and dress as well before I meet with the Dragonkeepers in the stables to train Morning. If I get time before the council meeting begins, I might join you in the yard."

There was a smile on her face when she spoke next, "Don't worry, I won't beat you too badly." She then went into her bedchamber.

The council meeting began later into the morning after he had done his training, bathed, dressed and broken his fast with his sisters. Rhaena had managed to come to the yard, and she had indeed beaten him. Aegon had stifled a laugh when Baela had in turn battered Rhaena into the ground. Even he had gotten a win over Gaemon, who had followed him into the yard even though he was yet to officially start his training on account of his age. Ser Corwyn, the wielder of Lady Forlorn, was a patient teacher. Aegon's skill would grow under his tutelage.

The council table was full when he entered, his sisters flanking him. All those inside stood up in respect, and Aegon had to fight the urge of wilting under their expectant gazes. He was the king now, he had to remind himself. All these lords were here at his behest. This was his council. Baela had told him so. The supporting hand of his sister on his shoulder filled him with a determination uncommon in him.

He took his seat at the head of the table, with Baela sat on his right, and Rhaena his left. Gaemon, acting as the cupbearer, poured drinks for all the lords. Wine for the councillors and juice for him, Baela and Rhaena.

On Baela's right, sat Lord Corlys, the Hand of the King. Next to him was Ser Torrhen Manderly, the Master of Laws. He was followed by Lord Manfryd Mooton, the Master of Coin; Ser Tyland Lannister, the Master of Ships; Grand Maester Munkun of the Citadel, Lord Roland Westerling of the Crag, Ser Corwyn Corbray, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard; Lord Olyver Caron of Nightsong and Lady Jeyne Arryn of the Vale, who was on Rhaena's left.

For now until Baela and Rhaena came of age, all nine of them had the power of a regent. That meant that no decision of his held any weight unless it was ratified by a majority of them. Normally, it was a notion that would have made him uneasy, but he had two dragonriders for sisters and he was therefore not too torn up about it. To add to that, it was an arrangement that would last less than a year.

Many matters were brought forward to be discussed by the council. Lord Manfryd confirmed the return of the crown's gold by the Lannisters, Hightowers and the Braavosi, although he complained that half a million golden dragons were missing from the sum that Braavos had returned. Baela informed him that she had used that sum to purchase the three dragon's eggs that Elissa Farman had stolen from King Jaehaerys, and that those eggs were currently in incubation on Dragonstone.

If he recalled correctly, Baela had flown to the island with six dragon's eggs, two days ago. One egg was apparently collected from Bitterbridge, two others were ones that Mother had given Rhaena when Jacaerys had sent her to the Vale, meaning the other three had to be the ones returned from Braavos. Ser Torrhen complained quite loudly at Baela, berating her for being irresponsible with the crown's gold. Rhaena unsuccessfully tried to cool the flaring tempers, but the council chamber was rendered completely silent when they heard the angry roar of a dragon. Rhaena's hand was immediately on Aegon's shoulder to calm him. The councillors turned to the open windows to see Silverwing's massive head peering into the room, growling angrily.

Rhaena's calming voice resounded in his ear, "Breathe Aegon… Breathe. You're safe. You're here, and I am too." He managed to calm himself.

Ser Torrhen said nothing for the rest of the meeting even after the dragon departed. Aegon could swear he could smell urine in the room, although he dismissed that notion. There were no babes here.

It took around four hours for the meeting to come to an end. Aegon and his sisters went to have luncheon, with Rhaena forcing him to eat more than he had planned to. Lord Corlys joined them.

"Grandfather," Baela said to Corlys, "I've given more thought to the matter you raised, concerning inheritance of Driftmark and I've come to a decision. You've always given good counsel, you've been loyal to us since the war began, and you are our beloved grandfather. I'll therefore honour your proposal. Alyn will inherit Driftmark after your death but, on several conditions."

Lord Corlys smiled blindingly.

Baela laid out her terms. First, all ships seized from the Triarchy would belong to the Royal Fleet exclusively, abandoning the previous arrangement of indemnifying House Velaryon's fleet and returning it to its strength before the war. Second, all possessions that had belonged to her grandmother were to be returned to her and where those possessions had been lost, a monetary payment of an equivalent amount was to be made. Third, the charters granted to Hull and Spicetown would be renegotiated should those two towns be rebuilt.

Lord Corlys' smile remained blinding, "Thank you Baela. I'll have the agreement written and signed. I'm sure you'll give a copy of it to Alyn once you leave for your campaign."

His sister only nodded in response. Alyn had left for Driftmark as soon as the wedding ended.

"Grandfather," Rhaena asked, "Why not admit that Alyn is your son?"

The Sea Snake laughed uproariously. "You have fallen for these lies too!" he said once his mirth subsided.

"Alyn is truly Laenor's son. I would have been fed to Meleys had I strayed from your grandmother's bed. You can be sure that."

Surprise was plain on all their faces, "But I thought… I thought uncle Laenor could not… endure bedding a woman."

The Master of Driftmark's eyes turned sad, "It was difficult to be sure, but not impossible."

"How?" Baela asked.

Lord Corlys sighed, and began his confession.

---

Author's Note:
Posting this a bit earlier than my normal schedule since we've got gazetted random power outages for the next week.
I hope you enjoy this outlook into some of the future plans Rhaena has, the issue of Driftmark's succession, negotiations with the Free Cities, getting back Drogon, Rhaegal and Viserion's eggs, and the Targaryens co-opting the faith. Please tell me your thoughts on all this down below. If you're impatient and would like to read the next chapter, '09. Under the Regents', and several more after that, you can do so here.

 

[Wolffils]

Thanks for the chapter.

Also this story is one of the handful I've ever read where it has Laenor as being the father of Alyn and Addam of Hull.

 

[neyra]

Thanks for the chapter.

Also this story is one of the handful I've ever read where it has Laenor as being the father of Alyn and Addam of Hull.

Click to shrink...

You're welcome

What do you think of it? I believe it was the case in actual canon

 

[Wolffils]

You're welcome

What do you think of it? I believe it was the case in actual canon

Click to shrink...

It's actually a personal headcanon of mine that Addam and Alyn were actually Laenors boys. Perhaps in his youth, he laid with Marilda a few times just to see if he had the temerity and ability to have sex with a woman. It's also another way that demonizes Rhaenyra which I support- Laenor was capable of fathering children. Its just that Rhaenyra never really tried with him and Laenor wasn't firm enough to push it and was happy with his male lovers.

Canonically though, its 100% certain that the Sea Snake was their father.

 

[neyra]

It's actually a personal headcanon of mine that Addam and Alyn were actually Laenors boys. Perhaps in his youth, he laid with Marilda a few times just to see if he had the temerity and ability to have sex with a woman. It's also another way that demonized Rhaenyra which I support- Laenor was capable of fathering children. Its just that Rhaenyra never really tried with him and Laenor wasn't firm enough to push it and was happy with his male lovers.

Canonically though, its 100% certain that the Sea Snake was their father.

Click to shrink...

I made a post in the past on AH forum discussing this; let me say what I said there here:

Yeah, they are Laenor's kids.
Below are my reasons.

1. How Addam and Alyn could have been sired.
Option A: We don't actually know whether Laenor is gay or not. Aye, some characters suspect that he was, and he spent time with Joffrey Lonmouth, but this isn't actually confirmed. Rhaegar spent time with Jon Connington and we know that Rhaegar was not gay at all. It is also stated in the book that Laenor was never at court save for official occasions after he married Rhaenyra in 114 AC. Even when Daemon and Laena came back from Pentos and were visiting with Rhaenyra on Dragonstone often, Laenor was apparently not among those visiting. Note; Addam was born in 114 AC, and Alyn 115 AC. It's very possible that Laenor could have just been hanging out with Marilda during that time.
As part of this option, although you can choose to omit it or not. All five of the kids are Laenor's. Addam, Alyn, Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey are all Laenor's kids. in this case, Laenor would essentially go to KL only when Rhaenyra was in her fertile window, fuck her a bunch of times, then go back to Driftmark to chill with the love of his life, Marilda. It just so happened that Addam and Alyn are the ones who took his Valyrian features, in the same way that Jon has Ned's features while Robb, Bran and Rickon don't. I believe in this option the least since it would be incredibly unlucky for Arryn genes to be this strong one generation removed. But, it creates the most irony.
Option B: Laenor is gay, and what is widely accepted as true in the books is the actual truth. Corlys would have absolutely made sure that Laenor and his tastes would not be an impediment to him achieving his ambitions, i.e having his line rule the Seven Kingdoms. According to me, I see him commanding Laenor to bed Marilda right before he got married to Rhaenyra to make sure that he could sire children, hence getting Alyn born the same year as Jacaerys. Then after Jace is born with different colouring to Alyn, he might have assumed that it's the latent Baratheon or Arryn genes that showed itself in him. As a measure to confirm that, he could have had Laenor bed Marilda again to confirm whether Jacaerys was trueborn or not. Alyn was most likely born after Luke, because Corlys gave him his name. After Alyn was born looking Valyrian while Luke was not, he confirms that Rhaenyra is siring bastards, gets pissed at Laenor and doesn't even bother giving Joffrey a Velaryon name unlike he did with both Jacaerys and Lucerys. Laenor would also be pissed at his dad for making him bed Marilda while being gay. Immediately after this, the Jace/Baela and Luke/Rhaena betrothals happen. (this second option is what I went with in this story)

2. Why Corlys hid both Addam and Alyn until 129 AC.
Option A: There's a very simple explanation for this; Rhaenyra and Daemon. Both of them have dragons, both are dangerous, Rhaenyra is entitled and would not take any slander to her name. Rhaenyra had Vaemond fed to a dragon because of his slander. If they had found out about Addam and Alyn early on, they would have taken action concerning them; even outright killing them to remove the challenge to Jace and Luke's 'legitimacy'. This 'legitimacy' could be the reason for Daemon and Rhaenyra's swift marriage after Laenor's death and the Jace/Baela Luke/Rhaena betrothals. Doing those three matches would maintain the Velaryon/Rhaenyra alliance and made sure that Jacaerys and Lucerys would get their inheritances as Rhaenyra desires.
Another thing, Corlys would have seen that the king was fully behind Rhaenyra, despite her siring bastards and passing them as trueborn. If she moved against Addam and Alyn, Corlys can't complain to anybody in order to get justice since Viserys fully supported Rhaenyra in his entitlement. Rhaenyra, who has a dragon of her own, has the king and the most feared dragonrider in the world at her side (said dragonrider being married to their daughter). It'd be suicide to go against him, since at this time, the green kids were too young to count as any potential allies. Therefore Corlys swallows his pride and accepts Jace and Luke as his heirs.

3. Corlys could have claimed them as his own children in 129 AC after Addam claims Seasmoke.
After the death of Rhaenys and Lucerys in the early stages of the war, the situation had massively shifted against the Blacks, and they were desperate for more dragonriders. If Addam and Alyn were Corlys' children, him bringing the two of them forward to claim dragons suggests that he believes that his bloodline by his lonesome (without any Targaryen infusion), is as exalted and as genetically able as the Targaryens'. Corlys is ambitious, methodical and grasping. He is seemingly never satisfied. A Velaryon supremacist. Therefore, if he had one of his own children without Targaryen blood become dragonriders, wouldn't he be shouting it from the rooftops? Wouldn't he want the entire world to know that Velaryons can be dragonriders too, that Corlys' blood is as genetically capable as Targaryen blood?
At this point, if he did that, no one could say anything against it. The world believes Laenor to have been gay, therefore no one would have disputed him in that fact. Rhaenys is dead, so Corlys has nothing to be afraid of in saying that Addam and Alyn were his children. It begs the question, why didn't he? The only plausible explanation: they're Laenor's children.

4. Marilda of Hull had no reason to lie.
Marilda is the one who said that the children were Laenor's children. She's the one who brought them to the attention of Jacaerys actually. What reason does she have to lie if they were Corlys' children? She seemed to have been taking the opportunity to get rich and move up in the world, which she did by quite a bit after Oakenfist became Lord of Driftmark. Claiming that they were Corlys bastards favours her case more than claiming that they are Laenor's. It's more easily believable and plausible since Laenor is believed to be gay. She's most likely telling the truth about them being Laenor's children.

This is how I see the whole scenario having happened.
Addam and Alyn are either sired as children born of love from Laenor/Marilda, or children born of his father's command. Either way, Corlys finds out about them and hides them away to make sure that they don't fall into the radar of Daemon and Rhaenyra who would most certainly kill them. During the war, they become dragonriders since they are of Laenor's blood and Corlys has Rhaenyra legitimise them and make them heirs to Driftmark. Rhaenyra, due to her being desperate for more dragonriders, is backed into the wall and accepts. She places them before her own son Joffrey in the line of succession to Driftmark.

 

[Wolffils]

This is how I see the whole scenario having happened.
Addam and Alyn are either sired as children born of love from Laenor/Marilda, or children born of his father's command. Either way, Corlys finds out about them and hides them away to make sure that they don't fall into the radar of Daemon and Rhaenyra who would most certainly kill them. During the war, they become dragonriders since they are of Laenor's blood and Corlys has Rhaenyra legitimise them and make them heirs to Driftmark. Rhaenyra, due to her being desperate for more dragonriders, is backed into the wall and accepts. She places them before her own son Joffrey in the line of succession to Driftmark.

Click to shrink...

These are literally my personal thoughts on the matter as well. The book may posit that Corlys are those boys fathers but for me this scenario makes far more sense.

 

[neyra]

These are literally my personal thoughts on the matter as well. The book may posit that Corlys are those boys fathers but for me this scenario makes far more sense.

Click to shrink...

Yeah.

But honestly, FnB and it's ambiguity is egregious.

 

[neyra]

Excerpt from 'Fire and Blood: Aegon II Targaryen - The Regency and Reign of the Broken King' by Archmaester Rhaegar Targaryen

.…The Hour of The Wolf ended only six days after it had begun, on the tenth day of the fourth moon of the 131st year after Aegon's Conquest. Once the last of the traitors had been executed or put in the dungeons awaiting their journey to Castle Black, Lord Cregan Stark, newly betrothed to Lady Alysanne Blackwood, returned his chain of office to Prince Aegon, declaring his intention to return to Winterfell immediately after the wedding between Aegon and Jaehaera was done. There are some who thought he might have easily remained the King's Hand for years, or even seized the regency until young Aegon came of age, but the south held no interest for him. 'The Snows are falling in the North,' he announced, 'and my place is at Winterfell.' However, his return faced a thorny issue.

Lord Stark had marched south with a great host, made up in large part of men unwanted and unneeded in the North, whose return would bring great hardship and mayhaps even death for the loved ones they had left behind. Lady Alysanne Blackwood and Lady Rhaena Targaryen suggested suitable solutions for this problem. In the wake of the war, and the devastation that Vhagar had wrought, the lands along the Trident were full of widows, Lady Alysanne told Lord Stark. With winter at hand, strong backs and willing hands would be welcome in many homes. In King's Landing as well, Lady Rhaena suggested to the Northman, there was a need for strong men to aid in the rebuilding and protection of the city, since ruin and lawlessness had become the norm in the streets by then. Lord Stark agreed to both suggestions; although later actions would prove that Lady Rhaena had secured these men for her own ends.

In the end, less than a thousand men accompanied Lady Alysanne and her nephew, Lord Benjicot Blackwood when they returned to the Riverlands after the royal wedding. Hundreds of marriages were made at 'Widow Fairs' held at Raventree, Riverrun, Stoney Sept, the Twins, and Fairmarket. 'A wolf for every widow,' was what these Widow's Fairs were touted as. The rest of the Northmen, numbering nine thousand, swore themselves in service to the Crown; where they were made the first legionnaires of what would come to be known to history in later years as The Dragon's Teeth, the fearsome army in service to only House Targaryen and the Crown.

Five hundred of these men would set off from King's Landing days after; commanded by Eldric Umber and with Lady Baela riding among them. The reason for their departure and their intended destination would not be known at first, but it would become clear soon enough.

It must be remembered that Lord Corlys Velaryon, renown in song and story as the Sea Snake, was the man that engineered the fall of the usurper, although some, Lord Cregan Stark chief amongst them, would deride him as a Kingslayer who used a woman's weapon to dispatch a king he did not like. No matter how one views the actions of the Lord of the Tides at this juncture, it cannot be denied that it was by his efforts that the Dance of the Dragons came to an end, and peace in the realm was restored.

When Lord Kermit Tully's host appeared before the walls of King's Landing two days after the Battle on the Kingsroad, the last battle of the war where-in a fresh host of the Riverlands obliterated Lord Borros Baratheon's host, Corlys Velaryon rode out to greet them with Prince Aegon the Younger somber at his side. "The king is dead," the Sea Snake proclaimed, "long live the king."

In the following days, when the rivermen had the city in their hands and before the Lord Cregan and his Northmen arrived, a strange euphoria hung over King's Landing. The rivermen were welcomed eagerly by the denizens of the city and hailed as liberators who had come to keep them safe from further devastation caused by the war. Aegon the Usurper's corpse was consigned to the flames, in hopes that all the ills and hatreds during his tyranny would be burned away with his remains. Thousands climbed Aegon's High Hill to hear Prince Aegon proclaim that peace was at hand. This time is known in history as the False Dawn. False, for the Hour of the Wolf had not yet come and gone.

During this False Dawn, Lord Corlys Velaryon would sue for peace with all the great lords of the realm that were still considered to be in rebellion, with the intention of officially putting an end to the Dance of The Dragons. A cloud of ravens had risen from the Red Keep, summoning the usurper's remaining loyalists in Oldtown, the Reach, Casterly Rock, and Storm's End to King's Landing to do homage to their new monarch. Safe conducts had been granted, and full pardons promised. One by the one those ravens returned, bearing answers to the old man's peace offers.

Casterly Rock was the first to respond. Lord Jason Lannister had left six children when he died in battle: five daughters and one son, Loreon, a boy of four. Rule of the Westerlands had therefore passed to his widow, Lady Johanna, and her father, Roland Westerling, Lord of The Crag. With the Red Kraken's longships still menacing their coasts, the Lannisters were more concerned with defending Kayce and retaking Fair Isle than renewing the struggle for the Iron Throne. Lady Johanna agreed to all the Sea Snake's terms, promising to come herself to King' Landing to do obeisance to the new king on his coronation, and deliver two daughters to the Red Keep to serve as companions to the new queen (and as hostages to ensure her future loyalty). She agreed to restore the portion of the royal treasury that Ser Tyland Lannister had sent west for safekeeping as well, provided that the Iron Throne 'command Lord Greyjoy to crawl back to his islands, restore Fair Isle to its rightful lords, and free all the women he carried off.'

In the Stormlands, many of the men who had survived the Battle on the Kingsroad had made their way back to Storm's End afterward. Hungry, weary and wounded, they drifted home alone or in small groups, and Lord Borros Baratheon's widow, the Lady Elenda Caron, had only to look at them to realise they had lost their taste for battle. Nor did she wish to put her newborn son, Olyver Baratheon, at risk, for that little lord at her breast was the future of House Baratheon. Though her eldest daughter, Lady Cassandra, wept bitter tears when she learned she was not to be Aegon the Usurper's second wife, Lady Elenda soon agreed to terms. Still weak from her labour, she could not come to the city herself for the coronation, she wrote, but she would send her own lord father to do homage in her stead, and three of her four daughters to serve as hostages.

Last to respond was Oldtown. The wealthiest of the great houses that had rallied to the Usurper, the Hightowers remained the most dangerous, for they were capable of raising large new armies quickly from the streets of Oldtown, and with their own warships and those of their close kin, the Redwynes of the Arbor, they could float a significant fleet as well. Moreover, one-quarter of the Crown's gold still rested in deep vaults beneath the Hightower, gold that could easily have been used to buy new alliances and hire sellsword companies. Oldtown had the power to renew the war.

Two accounts have come down to us explaining why they did not.

The first involves the intervention of the infamous Lady Samantha Tarly, the daughter of Lord Donald Tarly of Horn Hill and Lady Jeyne Rowan of Goldengrove; both houses that had taken up arms for the queen during the Dance. Lord Ormund had only recently taken her as his wife when the Dance began, his first having died some years before in childbirth. Upon his death at Tumbleton, his lands and titles passed to his eldest son, Lyonel, a youth of fifteen on the cusp of manhood. The second son, Martyn, was a squire to Lord Redwyne on the Arbor; the third, Garmund, was fostering at Highgarden as a companion to Lord Tyrell and cupbearer to his lady mother. All three were children of Lord Ormund's first marriage. When Lord Velaryon's terms were put to Lyonel Hightower, it is said, the young lord ripped the parchment from his maester's hand and tore it into shreds, swearing to write his reply in the Sea Snake's blood.

His lord father's young widow had other notions, however. Lady Samantha was fierce, fiery and beautiful, and had no intention of giving up her place as the Lady of Oldtown and mistress of the Hightower. Lyonel was only two years her junior, and he had been infatuated with her since she first came to Oldtown to wed his father. Whereas previously, the lady had fended off the boy's advances, now Lady Sam (as she would be known for many years) yielded to them, allowing him to seduce her, and afterward promising to marry him…but only if he would make peace, "for I would surely die of grief should I lose another husband."

Faced with a choice between 'a dead father, cold in the ground, and a living woman, warm and willing in his arms, the boy chose love over war'. Lyonel Hightower capitulated, agreeing to all the terms put forth by Lord Corlys, including the return of the Crown's gold. A great scandal ensued when the young lord then announced his intention to marry his father's widow however, and the reigning High Septon immediately forbade the marriage as 'a son marrying their mother was a form of incest, not accepted even in Valyria of Old', but even that could not keep these young lovers apart. Thereafter, the Defender of Oldtown kept Lady Sam by his side as his paramour for the next thirteen years, fathering six abominations upon her.

This is the tale as the first account tells it, in any case. The second, ascribes a different cause to Lord Lyonel's change of heart; and a more likely one.

Lady Baela's suspicious sojourn from the capital had been a topic of much rumour in King's Landing. Some said she had grown weary of the capital and in her wild and impulsive nature, decided to search out adventure in the Seven Kingdoms accompanied by her 'Wolf Pack', while others said that she had gone mad and had forgotten who she was. The truth however, was much more sensible.

Lady Baela journeyed for the best part of a moon's turn to Red Lake, to search out the dragon Silverwing. She found the cave that the dragon had made for herself, and wasted no time in claiming the mount. News of this spread quickly throughout the realm and not a fortnight later, as Lady Baela and her Dragon's Teeth were being guested by Lord Wilbert Crane, envoys were sent by Lady Joanna Lannister to seek the dragon's aid against Lord Greyjoy. Baela's help, at this time anyway, only came in the form of a warning, a fly-by above the ironborn fleets while Silverwing lit the dusk sky in white flames. Lady Baela wished to contribute more to the campaign and drive the ironborn back to their islands, but she was to return to King's Landing as soon as possible. Lady Joanna hoped that the sight of the mighty Silverwing would cow the ironborn; it did not, though the woes of the Westerlands shall be recounted in full later on in this volume.

Once the news of Lady Baela claiming of Silverwing reached Oldtown, Lord Lyonel Hightower immediately capitulated to the Sea Snake's demands, sent the part of the treasury that had been entrusted to them by Tyland Lannister for safekeeping at the beginning of the Dance back to King's Landing, and pledged to travel with some of his maiden cousins to serve in the retinue of the new queen.

"Jaehaera has Hightower blood," he is reported to have said, "her grandmother's ambition has been realised."

As the date of Prince Aegon's coronation and the royal wedding drew closer, many were arriving from every point of the compass. From the west came Lady Johanna Lannister and her father, Roland Westerling, Lord of the Crag. From the south came twoscore Hightowers from Oldtown, led by Lord Lyonel and Lady Samantha. Though forbidden to wed, their passion for one another had become common knowledge by this time, and so great a scandal that the High Septon refused to travel with them, arriving three days later in the company of the Lords Redwyne, Costayne, and Beesbury.

Lady Elenda, the widow of late Lord Borros Baratheon, remained at Storm's End with her infant son, but sent her daughters Cassandra, Ellyn and Floris to represent House Baratheon. (Maris, the fourth daughter, had joined the silent sisters for the part she had played in the death of Prince Lucerys Velaryon). Lady Baratheon's father, Olyver Caron, Lord of Nightsong and Marshal of the Marches, escorted the girls to the city, and would remain with them as their guardian while they served in Queen Jaehaera's retinue, and he in the Regency Council.

Alyn Velaryon and his cousin Monford came ashore as well, and the Manderly brothers, Torrhen and Medrick Manderly, returned once more from White Harbor with a hundred knights in blue-green cloaks. Even from across the narrow sea they came, from Braavos and Pentos, from all three cities of the fallen Triarchy, from Old Volantis and the rest. From the Summer Isles appeared three tall black princes in feathered cloaks, whose splendour was a wonder to behold. Every inn and stable in King's Landing was soon full, whilst outside the city walls; a city of tents and pavilions arose for those unable to find accommodations. The tavern keepers of the city waxed fat and happy for a time, as did the whores of the fine houses along the Street of Silk, though the common people complained about the noise and stink.

With the Dragonpit still in ruins, the wedding of Prince Aegon and Princess Jaehaera was celebrated outdoors, at the top of Visenya's Hill, where towering grandstands were erected so the men and women of the nobility might sit in comfort and enjoy an unobstructed view. The day was cold but sunny, the records of this time tell us. It was the seventh day of the seventh moon of the 131st year after Aegon's Conquest, judged to be a most auspicious date.

The Dowager Queen presented her granddaughter to her groom, while dressed in a dramatic black and red gown, which signalled to all that she had eagerly accepted the new king and put aside her grudges with Rhaenyra and her faction. The High Septon performed the rites himself, and a deafening roar went up from the commonfolk when His High Holiness declared the prince and princess one. Tens of thousands packed the streets cheering King Aegon the Second and Queen Jaehaera as they were carried in an open litter up to the Red Keep, where the prince was crowned with a circlet of yellow gold, simple and unadorned, and proclaimed Aegon of House Targaryen, the Second of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. Aegon himself placed a similar crown upon the head of his child bride.

Though a solemn boy, the new king was undeniably handsome, lean of face and form, with silver-white hair and purple eyes, whilst the queen was a beautiful child. Their wedding was as lavish a spectacle as the Seven Kingdoms had seen since the coronation of Aegon the Usurper in the Dragonpit. Even the triumphant flight around the city walls did not lack, for Lady Baela, now Princess Baela, was a dragonrider once more. The roars of Silverwing joined the raucous cheers of the commonfolk as the dragon made three laps around the city before landing in the courtyard to join her brother, the king. All those who had thought that House Targaryen had been snuffed out were soundly dissuaded of that notion at this display.

The king's first act was to establish male-preference primogeniture as the official law of succession for the Iron Throne, from that day until the end of time, to avoid the conflicts over succession that had plagued the realm since Aegon the Conqueror established Targaryen rule over Westeros. This principle specified that the sons of the monarchs and their lines would come before daughters and their lines, who would come before brothers of the monarch and their lines, who would come before sisters of the monarchs and their lines in the precedence to the Iron Throne of Westeros.

The king would then reverse the decree made by the usurper during his short, sad, false reign, and declare that his mother, Rhaenyra Targaryen, was to be recognised as the true queen, not Princess Helaena. The Usurper and his brothers were then stripped of all royal titles they ever held in their life and branded as traitors who committed treason by disobeying the king's wishes. Only Helaena Targaryen would retain her title as princess of the blood, by the virtue of being a king's daughter, but nothing more.

There were some who grumbled at the seemingly contradictory nature of the above two decrees, but there was an easy answer prepared for them. The official law of succession would take effect beginning from Aegon the Second's reign onwards, and would thus not affect the precedents by which the kings of the past were crowned. After all, Maegor usurped his nephew and claimed the throne for himself, Jaehaerys was king above Aerea and Rhaella, the children of his older brother Aegon the Uncrowned; and Viserys ascended the throne above his cousin Rhaenys, the daughter of the Old King's eldest son, Aemon. If one was to question whether Rhaenyra posthumously being declared queen was lawful, they would also be questioning the reigns of all Targaryen kings after Aenys.

Since he was only ten years of age and firmly in his minority, the king's next act was to name the men who would protect him and rule for him. These men were selected and agreed upon by the Great Lords of the realm, although according to the accounts that have come down to us of this deliberation, the Dragon Twins had influence on the choices made.

Until Princess Baela and Rhaena came of age in 132 AC, it was agreed that the realm would be governed by a Regency Council. What this meant was that each member of a traditional small council would be granted the powers of a regent in order to ensure that power was shared equally between those lords who were once Blacks and those who were Greens. This was seen as the fairest approach to maintain the realms fragile peace, and ensure the wounds that had torn the realm asunder two years past did not bleed anew.

In this regard, the following were selected to serve on what was named the Regency Council:

• Lord Corlys Velaryon of Driftmark - Hand of the King and Regent
• Ser Torrhen Manderly of White Harbour - Master of Laws and Regent
• Lord Manfryd Mooton of Maidenpool - Master of Coin and Regent
• Ser Tyland Lannister of Casterly Rock - Master of Ships and Regent
• Lord Roland Westerling of The Crag and Casterly Rock - Advisor and Regent
• Lady Jeyne Arryn of The Vale - Advisor and Regent
• Lord Olyver Caron of Nightsong - Advisor and Regent
• Archmaester Munkun of the Citadel - Grand Maester and Regent
• Ser Corwyn Corbray - Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and Regent

Conspicuous omissions from the council included Kermit Tully, Unwin Peake, Sabitha Frey, Thaddeus Rowan, Lyonel Hightower, Johanna Lannister and Benjicot Blackwood, but as later actions would prove, only Lord Peake was truly angered by this exclusion.

This same principle was applied in selecting the men who would be inducted into the sacred order of the Kingsguard. Ser Corwyn Corbray, the younger brother of Lord Leowyn Corbray and wielder of Lady Folorn, was made the Lord Commander, an appointment that would displease Ser Willis Fell, the sole survivor of the Kingsguard of King Viserys the First's time. Ser Oscar Tully, the younger brother of Lord Kermit Tully, who had gained renown during the False Dawn as one of the Lads, was made Ser Corwyn's second.

The rest of the places White Swords were filled by: Ser Regis Groves, a fierce sword from the knightly House Groves; Ser Robin Massey, the elder brother of Lady Elinda Massey who served as the head of the king's household at this time; Ser Robert Darkyn, the nephew of the famous but deceased Ser Steffon Darklyn; and Ser Adrian Thorne, a hard man that had served as the Captain of the Lion Gate in the Gold Cloaks since Prince Daemon's time as Lord Commander. (his relation to Ser Rickard Thorne is unknown)

The wedding celebrations were the grounds by which the Dragon Twins entertained most of the nobles of the realm and the envoys sent from the Free Cities. Grand Maester Munkun, who was present for these meetings, reports that Princess Rhaena met with Maegoro Paenymion of Volantis, her childhood acquaintance from the time of her father's exile from The Seven Kingdoms (and kin through Princess Saera Targaryen, the disgraced daughter of the Old King); the son of the Sealord of Braavos; Prince Reggio of Pentos and other envoys sent from the other Free Cities: Qohor, Norvos and Lorath. Notable for their absentia in these meetings were the Three Daughters, as both princesses had grievances with them due to their attack on the Gullet during the Dance, which led to the death of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, Princess Baela's betrothed.

Much was gained from these meetings. The Princesses sought redress for the Triarchy's attack upon Dragonstone and Driftmark, and desired for the rest of the Free Cities to not take it as an offence against their sovereignty, nor to interfere with what they would do soon after the wedding celebrations were over. Volantis and Pentos on the other hand, wished to conquer the Disputed Lands that had once been occupied by the recently fallen Triarchy.

The Triarchy had been a thorn in the side of both Volantis and Pentos since the later years of King Jaehaerys' reign, at the turn of the century. During the Battle of the Borderlands, the three cities put aside their differences and drove Volantis out of the Disputed Lands. Two years after winning that battle, they would try to expand their domains into the Flatlands, but they were driven back by Pentos. After this, they decided to expand seaward instead, sweeping across the Stepstones in a trice and demanding tolls for passing ships, tolls which would become especially ruinous for Volantis and Pentoshi ships as the years went on.

Through the efforts of Prince Daemon Targaryen, both cities formed a grand coalition against the Triarchy, where the prince offered the aid of his dragon in obliterating them should they try expanding their claims on lands in any direction beyond their current borders. In exchange, these two cities would offer peace keeping ships to patrol the Stepstones and deter any fresh invasion from the Three Whores that Daemon had spent years painstakingly removing from that chain of isles.

Princess Rhaena drew out the prospective boundaries that Pentos and Volantis would occupy after their conquests, and she set the condition that none of them were to press any claim, real or imagined, on the Stepstones. No, those isles were for the Iron Throne to annex.

With Braavos, Princess Rhaena, with the help of her grandfather, The Sea Snake, came to a different agreement; albeit at the time, this agreement seemed to have favoured the Free City instead of the Seven Kingdoms. Braavos would keep half a million golden dragons from the part of the treasury that had been entrusted to them during the Dance, and in return, they would deliver the three dragon's eggs that Elissa Farman had stolen from House Targaryen and sold to them those many decades ago.

The Sealord's son was exceedingly pleased with that offer, as those dragon's eggs had never hatched and only served as a monument of pride to the Sealord of Jaehaerys' time, who had defied the Iron Throne with impunity. This Sealord it seemed, was of a more practical bend and would rather have more coin than the "three pretty stones" his predecessor had acquired.

When the regents heard of this proposal, however, they were outraged.

"Those eggs are worthless," Ser Tyland retorted, "What use do we have for them?"

To which Rhaena replied, "Should those eggs hatch now, we only have one dragon of fighting size to counter the threat they would pose. We have just come from a war my lords, the realm has yet to be set to rights, and we do not have the strength to fight another."

Ser Torrhen Manderly was outraged however, "What right does an insipid girl have to barter the crown's funds?"

"The right of being of House Targaryen," Baela replied, "and my brother's heir." At that moment, records assert, Silverwing let out a mighty roar in the skies above them, sending the blustering knight into a stony silence.

Thus it was at the beginning of the eighth moon of the 131st year since Aegon' s Crowning, with the three dragon eggs returned and secured, that the Dragon Twins and their cousin, Alyn Velaryon, the heir to House Velaryon, set sail from Driftmark, on their way to seek reparations from the Triarchy. What they would find however, would be worth much, much more...

---

Author's Note:
A bit of a different sort of chapter, one written in the historical style of Fire and Blood. It's purpose is threefold: 1) to give an update on the rest of Westeros and its political landscape, 2) to add more context on the events that have been recounted in the narrative chapter and 3) to serve as a light recap on what has happened thus far for the reader and prime them as we get into the next phase of the story.

Another thing; I debated quite a bit on whether to keep the duelling historians that Fire and Blood is so famous for, but I decided against it since this timeline's Fire and Blood will have many, many records to pull from including definitive versions written by Rhaena in her journals. Where the events happening don't involve the royals, there's numerous maesters always about chronicling the events. Also, as you judge by the title, this version of Fire and Blood was written by one Rhaegar Targaryen, a future member of the house who will be seeking to be as thorough as possible. So, I'm very sorry Mushroom, no dice for you. Please let me know what you think on this chapter and its style of writing, and whether you find it useful or too repetitive.

In the next chapter we check in with a certain lost prince. If you're impatient to read that chapter now and several more after it, you can do so here.

 

[Wolffils]

Enjoy it a lot when an ASOIAF fic is written in the historical style like this.

 

[neyra]

Enjoy it a lot when an ASOIAF fic is written in the historical style like this.

Click to shrink...

I'm glad you like it.
It might not be plot heavy, it does serve to give further information that did not fit into a particular chapter.
Although next chapter we dive right back in.

 

[neyra]

20th Day, Eighth Moon, 131AC | Lys

THE NORTHMAN, THE DRAGON'S MAN | ELDRIC UMBER

"Faster!" Edric beckoned the squire who was pulling the latch to tie the breast-plate to his body, anger clear in his voice. The boy was a lazy one, and Eldric would ensure left his service as soon as they had returned from this mission. Edric Umber was not one to tolerate such blatant sloth.

It was the darkest hour of night; with no moonlight due to the cloud cover, only the scant light of the never-sleeping city would illuminate their mission. The inn they were staying at was especially busy; it was full of pillow-house slaves moaning in false pleasure as their masters rutted into them with abandon. The city was bracing itself for war, it seemed, and many of its inhabitants intended to spend the last moons of their lives in debauchery. Eldric sneered at the thought.

Soon after his incompetent squire was done, he looked over at the bed to inspect his quiver. There were supposed to be twenty four arrows in each quiver; only that number to ensure that the weight on their bodies was as light as possible. Silently and quickly, he counted those arrows. Then he grabbed the bow with his right arm, before squeezing the bowstring taut to test its viability. He would not tolerate his bowstring snapping in half tonight, not for this mission at least. He looked over at his comrades. There were only ten of them in the moderately luxurious inn they were staying in. Both prepared their weapons as well. Bows were tested, quivers were checked, swords were put into their scabbards before the belts they were strapped to were tied around their waists. Once all was done, Eldric dismissed the squire attending him. He did not need to instruct him to get himself to the harbour, where a Velaryon ship would be waiting for them for departure, once their mission was done.

Turning to his nine comrades who had formed up in a straight line, he paced the room with all the air of authority he could muster. "Men!" he commanded, his voice causing all nine of them to form up and stand at attention, "Tonight we right an injustice done to House Targaryen. We shall be the sword arm the Old Gods use to avenge our princesses, to avenge our dragon queen." He paused for effect before continuing, his brusque Northern accent echoing the small room they had been staying at for the past fortnight, "remember, Strike Hard and Strike True!"

"With Fire and Blood!" the nine of them chorused in unison. Eldric smirked, despite himself, before pulling the mask over his face, leaving his eyes being the only part visible through the narrow slits of the mask. They were dressed in all black tonight, black armour with no cloaks, to make them discrete, at least as discreet as they could be. The armour they chose was common in the streets of Lys, they had killed ten sellswords to seize them after all. Eldric took three deep breaths, willing his heart to calm itself.

Without much flourish, they made their way from the back door of the pleasure den they were staying in. They walked quickly, through the wide streets. No alarum would be raised because of them, there were many men patrolling the streets these days, preparing for war. Tyrosh and Myr were preparing to invade them, and Lys was taking precaution in its defences.

In less than an hour, they had reached the destination, the Bazzane Manse. It was resplendent, made of pale stone that stood out in the night, the same pale stone he had heard that could be found in the Eyrie. It was secluded somehow, from the rest of the city, with a perimeter wall surrounding it, men patrolling atop them. He counted ten men patrolling the side of the wall directly ahead of him, just as they had for the past fourteen days. They were pacing from left to right to left again, crossbows clutched in their hands, ready to retaliate against any threat that reached them.

They would not see them. As one, the ten members of his squad for the mission, knocked their arrows, and without the need for him telling them to lose, ten arrows flew and found purchase at either the throats, heads or any other point on their foes that their armour left vulnerable. Without much flourish, the ten bodies fell to their side of the wall. The manse's compound was large, therefore they had time before the guards patrolling the rest of the manse would spot their missing comrades. That time would ensure their demise.

Quickly, they scaled the wall. They were Northmen, climbing was second nature to them. Their ascent did not take long, before they descended the other side. Crouching, they moved as quickly and as silently as they could. There was no moon in the sky, and only the torches surrounding the compound lit the scene for them.

They split up their forces as they had planned and rehearsed over and over again. Five of them would go towards the back entrance of the castle, while the other five would go to the front. Best to take out the entire garrison before they were alerted to the danger that was coming for them. Eldric crouched as he creeped towards the front gate.

He knocked two arrows and loosed them at the men standing guard at the front gate of the castle. Without needing to look, he knew that the two of them fell. The rest of his squadron followed him, losing the arrows at the other eight. Eight bodies tumbled to the grass silently. Eldric knew the man who watched over the gatehouse was probably asleep or with a whore on his lap, as he was wont to do. He would not be a problem. Should he wake up, he would only find the rest of his garrison dead.

Looking up, they saw the eight that were patrolling the front side of the wall, all looking outwards, not thinking that the threat could come from the inside. Quickly and silently, eight more arrows flew, and eight more sentinels silently fell. Eldric spotted the other five of his men coming from the other side. He knew that the entire outer compound garrison had fallen, there was no need to crouch now, the only threat left was the men inside.

They had watched the movements of the men inside using far-eyes, gifted to them by their princess. He knew that every corridor had three men. Those would be the hardest to dispatch. He hoped that there was none who had seen them from the windows. If they had, there was no other way but to fight. The ten of them ran towards the great door made of oak. Five of them knocked the arrows on their bowstrings, while the five worked to loosen the bolts of the hinges of the door. After long arduous moments, the door fell, revealing five men looking straight at them, their faces contorted in shock. Those would be the expressions they wore when they went to the old gods. Twenty arrows were left in Edric's quiver, More than enough.

Those men who fell at the entrance were not as silent when they hit the ground as those in the courtyard when they had dispatched them. The marble floor met their armour with loud clangs. Good. They had anticipated this. They arranged themselves in a circle, no blind spots would be entertained by their squad. There must have been almost twenty men who emerged, Eldric could not remember. Their fates were all the same. Arrows in their skulls.

As they had planned, they split up into groups of two. They knew that the one they came for lived in the western side of the castle from what they had seen in their weeks of watching the manse. Nonetheless, that was not their only objective. They were to also obliterate all the inhabitants of this castle. The entirety of the Bazanne family was to go extinct. Eldric himself decided that their heads would be mounted on the spikes that lined the gate of their manse. A warning to all who come looking for this wretched family. He would not fail his princesses, he swore the oath of service he had made all over again under his breath. By earth and water, by bronze and iron, by ice and fire.

---

THE LOST PRINCE

The sound of a body falling lifted him from his slumber. His years in captivity, no matter how gentle said captivity was, had made him an extremely light sleeper. There was a certain ever present buzz and noise that was woven through the very fabric of Lyseni nights. Unlike the storms and brimstone air he had grown up with on Dragonstone, he fell asleep to the noise of revelry and debauchery of his host captor and the rest of the city. It was not strange for Bambarro Bazanne to entertain the numerous pleasure slaves he owned in a night. The sounds of pleasure ringing out from the other side of his manse eventually became a lullaby for him as time went on. It was what had lulled him to sleep tonight, until he heard the sound of bodies falling.

He shot out of his bed, grabbing the dagger that he had hidden for the past year and a half. It was Jacaerys' dagger, first given to his older brother, Aegon, just before they travelled to Pentos. He had recently learnt that said brother had been crowned king. Aegon had given it to him as he climbed on Stormcloud to seek Jacaerys' help against the assailants that had fallen upon their ship. He had never returned. The dagger was the one of the two things that had given him comfort this past year. That, and the dragon's egg in his possession. It had never hatched, but still radiated the heat of life. He was not sure whether Bambarro knew of him possessing both or not, he had never bothered to ask about it.

He braced himself as he grabbed the lit candle that rested at the periphery of his feather-bed, using its scant light to illuminate the darkness in front of him. Someone was invading the manse. He immediately squashed the fear that was rising from the pit of his stomach to his throat. Slowly, he walked towards the door, blade in hand, ready for any foe that might burst through.

A foe did, dressed in the black armour that was customary of the garrison of those who served on the manse and had his face covered by a black mask. His captor had finally decided to do away with him, he thought. He would not be that easy to kill, he promised as he immediately flung himself at his foe with all the force and speed that his nine year old self could manage. It was all for nought, however, as his assailant quickly shrugged off the dagger, holding him where he stood.

"My Prince," his enemy called out, in an accent that was certainly Westerosi, Northern if he could place it rightly. Looking at him closely, he noticed that his armour and the sword in his hand was bloody, "I am Eldric Umber, I have been sent by your sister, Princess Rhaena. I am here to take you home."

Viserys wanted to believe him, but suspicion and hope warred in his mind, "How do I know you speak the truth Ser?"

"The Princess told me to give you this," he said, handing him a small box while taking off the masks that covered his face. Outside his suite, he heard more chaos. The clanging of swords and the screams of the dying. Whatever was inside the box immediately quelled the suspicion he had.

His father's ring. He could recognise it anywhere. A remarkable piece, made entirely of Valyrian Steel, with the three-headed dragon of his house welded onto it. Each of the dragon's heads had a different-coloured gem in its eye; one was an amethyst sapphire, another was a red ruby, and the other was a shiny black onyx. There was none else like it in the world. His father had used it to knock his head whenever he got into trouble or mischief, which was a lot.

He always had it with him until the day he left for Harrenhal, to fight for their mother's cause. He had taken it off his finger and handed it to Rhaena with Viserys listening in from a hidden spot in the corner of her chambers. 'This was your grandmother's,' he had told her, 'you may not have a dragon, but I need you to know that you are as Targaryen as any of us. Let this remind you of that.' Then their father had hugged her, tears shining in both their eyes before he left to do his mother's bidding. Rhaena had let him play with it soon after words. It had always mesmerised him how the light gleamed off each eye.

"Alright Ser, I believe you, lead the way," he responded, before grabbing his dragon's egg and the dagger, putting them in a leather pouch, wearing his boots, and following Eldric Umber out of his suite.

Blood bathed the Bazanne manse, blood of his captors. He arrived at the main hall to find Bambarro and his entire family chained to the walls; his wife, his four wastrel sons and his three daughters, one of whom was a bastard. They were afraid. It was the first time he had seen them afraid. They were always so arrogant, so full of pride, especially at the notion of having captured a Targaryen Prince.

"Your family will never know where you are," Lysarra Bazanne had told her once, a scowl painted on her face, her fat greasy hands stroking his chin roughly, "we can do anything we want to you and there is nothing you can do, Targaryen brat or not. Perhaps we shall sell you to the fighting pits in Mereen or one of the pillow houses my husband owns. Or perhaps I shall take you for myself, teach you how to please a woman, and have you serve me for the rest of your life." She did not look so imperious now, Viserys thought, as he watched her naked form writhe against the cold marble wall.

"My Prince," Eldric said, as nine other men, bloodied and bruised, joined their side, "The heads of all your captors are to be staked on the spikes of their castle gate. I would have you identify them."

Viserys wasted no time, quickly pointing out the fat form of Bambarro and the rest of his family. Eldric dragged them forward, one by one. He then unsheathed his sword, going first to Bambarro. He did not look away as his head rolled to his feet. He did not look away at all of them finally losing their lives, their screams and shouts echoing throughout the grand main hall.

Viserys, adopting his most princely tone, then spoke to the thirty or so slaves that served the Bambarro family, "You shall not be harmed. Some of you might not know me, but I am Prince Viserys of House Targaryen, brother to Aegon Targaryen, Second of His Name, King of Westeros. You have been kind to me during my imprisonment here. Some of you have instructed me on the way of the sword, in governance, in etiquette and other pursuits. If you wish it, I would have you come with me. I promise you shall be given a place of honour in my household, a prince's household. If you do not, you may stay, and seize for yourselves the wealth of House Bazanne and make new lives for yourselves."

Most of them ended up choosing the first option, particularly those Viserys knew were bed-slaves to Bambarro. He was glad of it, it would be good to have those loyal to him when he returned to his brother's court that he knew was always a cesspit of intrigue. Once the head of the last members of House Bazanne had been staked to the spikes that lined the gate of their manse, Eldric, his men, the newly freed slaves, and himself stole their stabled horses and rode at once to what Viserys guessed was the harbour.

It was about an hour's ride to the harbour with their horses at full gallop. The sun had begun to rise in the East. As they boarded the cog that certainly belonged to Westeros, judging by the mast with the Seahorse of House Velaryon painted on it, Viserys took his time to admire the pink morning hue that the sun painted the clouds that were in the sky. Sunrises were always beautiful, even when he was held captive; Even more so now that he was free

"Are we travelling to King's Landing?" he asked, as he settled in his cabin.

"Not yet My Prince," Eldric answers, "the Princesses seek retribution from the Free Cities for the part they played in the war. They have set up camp at the Stepstones currently, and that is where we shall sail first."

---

24th Day, Eighth Moon, 131AC | Bloodstone - The Stepstones

BAELA

"Checkmate!" her sister shouted with an imperious tone. Sure enough, Baela looked at her face to see a smirk, so much their father's, plastered on her face. Baela punched her sister's arm in equal parts humour and exasperation.

"Come on Baela," she told her, in a playful tone, "you beat me senselessly everyday in the training yard, it is only right that I beat you in at least one thing."

"Yeah," Baela countered, "only you would consider beating me at a game you invented with pride." Baela sported a smirk of her own as she watched the one her sister wore with such haughtiness fade.

"Whatever," Rhaena reconsidered, rolling her eyes, "I won the game nonetheless. You have been sword training with our father since we were toddlers, and you have no compunctions about battering me to the dirt while I am a novice with the sword. I will have the pleasure of beating you Baela." Baela could not argue with that. She found this strange game interesting. So many strategies, an infinite number of ways to win. She would master this strange game soon enough, and she would beat her twin sister at it, just as she did in so much else.

"Very well," Baela conceded, "victory is yours Rhae. "

"Princess," the guard who stood sentinel outside the tent in vigilance said to them, "Commander Eldric has just made land, and he is on his way here."

"Thank you," she replied, "we shall be out in a moment."

Finally, Baela thought. They had arrived on Bloodstone two days ago, after getting the raven from their cousin that the Velaryon and Royal Fleet, (at least the remainder of it after the war) had docked and their armies had made camp. A moon's turn earlier, during the wedding celebrations of his brother, Rhaena had sent Eldric Umber with a squadron of men to Lys to find and rescue their lost brother. They had been instructed to return with him to Bloodstone once the task was done.

Baela's patience was running out. Rhaena had urged patience, giving them at least ten days after their arrival for Viserys' rescue. If those days elapsed without their return, they would attack the city with Silverwing and demand his return. Baela almost preferred that, she wished to turn these cities to ash. She wished to mount Silverwing and make sure only ruins were left in their wake. However, they were to first have their brother in hand safe and sound, before she could finally exact retribution for what these slaver scum did to Jacaerys.

They exited the tent after a few moments to be greeted by the sight of Silverwing, with Morning on top of her head, both dozing in lazy satisfaction after hunting three rather large whales in the sea, off the coast of the Bloodstone.

The winds of winter howled across the island as the morning tide rose, winds that would chill her if not for the warmth of their garbs. Alyn joined them as they walked towards the beach, his silver hair framing his face handsomely. "Good morrow princess," he greeted both of them, "finally this prize that you have made us wait for has arrived."

"Yes," Rhaena replied, "once that is done, we shall proceed with what we came here to do."

They arrived at the coast to see one of the Velaryon cogs docking at the primitive harbour that had been set up by various pirate bands on the island through the centuries. There were houses and stone shelters all over the islands that they could reside in, but they had chosen to set up camp near the shore, as they were not sure of the safety of those structures yet; they had only just begun clearing the islands of the bothersome pirates. Eldric, the commander of the army, was already disembarking, followed swiftly by his knights. All ten of them stood at attention as was their wont, respectfully saluting them. Their loyalty to them in these scant few months was surprising to Baela. Some at court had coined a name for them, the Dragon's Teeth, a name she found particularly amusing. She would make sure the name stuck.

Following them, there came a boy, dressed in a black cloak holding a leather pouch over his shoulder. Immediately the boy saw them, he unveiled the hood and ran to them, all rules of propriety be damned. Viserys.

"Baela, Rhaena!" he shouted, while barreling towards them, his load long forgotten. He had gotten taller, Baela noticed. The second thing he noticed was the dark gaze in his eyes, the innocence of childhood already stripped away from him.

"Brother," they chorused in reply, tears already glistening in their eyes.

"I thought I would never see you again," Viserys said, tears flowing down his ruddy cheeks.

"We are here Viserys," Rhaena replied, "we are here."

---

Author's Note:
An early release of this chapter due to the fact that my exams are beginning next Monday, and from then, I will have no time at all to be able to post and respond to your comments/discussions. So, enjoy this gift from me, lol, since there'll be a dought on here for the next three weeks to a month. My exams end on 23rd December, and from there, I really don't know how things might look like during Christmas. But, you can be sure, I'll get back to writing as soon as I can.
Onto the chapter; Viserys is back. According to the canon timeline, Viserys was seized by House Rogare mid 132 AC, after Bambarro and his family were taken and sold into slavery because of an outstanding debt they had that they could not pay. It's still 131 AC, and therefore he should still be a captive of the Bazzane family. Fret not however, we shall meet House Rogare soon enough.


Next chapter, '11. The Sack of Myr', we get the fall of the first Free City of the former Triarchy, meaning, a tonne of dragon action from Baela and Silverwing. If you're impatient, and would like to read that chapter and four more after it, you can do so here.

 

[Aravis]

Thanks for the chappy!!!

 

[neyra]

Thanks for the chappy!!!

Click to shrink...

You're welcome, any thoughts on it?

 

[Aravis]

You're welcome, any thoughts on it?

Click to shrink...

Not particularly for this chapter, but I am enjoying the story over all! This chapter was more of a transitional chapter with the main excitement being the retrieval of the ling lost brother, which went about as well as it could have! (Good thing, cause there could be a lot of issues with adding more drama when you already have major plot points upcoming.)

The only thing I had any issues with was the two arrows at once thing, which might have just been how I read it? Anyway, for someone who is the equivalent of a knight, being able to pull that off would have required either an extreme amount of talent or an investiture of time to the detriment of the more "knightly" skills.
He's a northman, so there is arguments to be made on what he spent time on as they don't have knights other than one family, I think? But either way, it's an odd level of skill for him to have. Maybe some follow up or beforehand knowledge on him might cover it or already did and I missed it. Either way, cool idea, out of nowhere and slightly odd, but certainly explainable, but cool none the less

 

[neyra]

the main excitement being the retrieval of the ling lost brother, which went about as well as it could have! (Good thing, cause there could be a lot of issues with adding more drama when you already have major plot points upcoming.)

Click to shrink...

I think this occasion was the one that benefited the most from having Rhaena be an SI with advanced knowledge. She knew where he was, and she put a plan of action to get him as soon as they could before the butterflies flapped too hard and made that knowledge obsolete. Using that, they basically formed a strike team to go retrieve him, which is the seque for the next thing.

The only thing I had any issues with was the two arrows at once thing, which might have just been how I read it?

Click to shrink...

Eldric was tasked to form a squad to retrieve Viserys, and chose nine of the best archers from the nascent army to do so. Picking the best ten out of ten thousand, those are going to be really skilled. That's why they're so precise and the hit is so clean.

And, the two arrows thing is one after the other. Two arrows at a go is implausible, I agree, unless Oliver Queen, lol.

 

[neyra]

30th Day, Eighth Moon, 131AC | Bloodstone - The Stepstones

VISERYS

Like he had done since the day he arrived here, Viserys toured the camp of their army. It was evening, fishing vessels were bringing in catches for the camp's evening meal. He had eaten nothing but seafood for the past six days, and frankly, Viserys was getting tired of it. Food in his captivity had a lot more variety, he had to sourly admit, but he was not going to complain. He was home now, with his sisters, he could definitely endure a few more days of eating crabs or salmon or even shark's meat. The dragons did not seem to share his reservations however for in the distance, he spotted Silverwing and Morning diving into the sea, each of them emerging with a catch nestled in their hind limbs. They then threw said catches up into the air and bathed them in glorious dragonflame before they fell back down into their open and welcoming maws. He chuckled at the sight.

The dragons were enjoying themselves indeed; Morning especially, who was growing remarkably quickly. He swore that he could notice a difference in her size these past six days. She was already the size of a small pony and would soon be large enough for his sister to ride, probably in another half-a-year. He crushed the jealousy that threatened to rise within him. His dragon egg had not hatched yet, though it still radiated the heat indicating there was still life inside it. He had told Baela of the same, and she had reassured him that he would have a dragon soon enough. If she meant that his egg would hatch, he was not sure how that would happen since he had possessed it for the entirety of his life. If she meant that he would claim a dragon; Viserys wondered which one. There was no other dragon that remained to be ridden, except… He chuckled, dismissing the thought from his mind as soon as it came; surely his sisters did not intend to sentence him to death, they loved him.

His attention returned to the camp, to see various men milling about various tasks. There were soldiers cleaning and preparing armour, various cookfires were being started for the evening feasts, men were sitting around in circles talking of everything and nothing while playing dice, others were training and sparring with their swords. Rhaena and the army commander she had appointed, Eldric Umber, the man who had rescued him, had done a splendid job in organising this war camp. Even the slaves that had come with him from Bambarro's manse had been given their own section in the camp. Daemon Targaryen would have been proud; it was exactly how he imagined his father had organised his forces during his conquest of the Stepstones from the stories he told him.

He walked towards the sea, the gentle waves of the even tide rolling towards the beach in a hypnotic rhythm. Like Rhaena had made common practice, three men trailed him, his sworn swords for the duration they were here. For once, he let his thoughts drift towards his beloved parents and brothers. He had not truly let himself think of them for the entirety of his time in Lys. He had plugged his ears everytime Lysarra Bazanne had come to him, with a conniving smile upon her lips, to gleefully tell him of the death of another family member.

"My husband's men killed your bastard brother and his dragon," she had told her, soon after he came into the Bazanne's possession.

"Your father died fighting another dragon," she had announced that another night, when she had invaded his suite, her fat form naked as the day she was born, fully intending to have her way with him. It was only Bambarro who had saved him from that ordeal.

"Your other bastard brother tried to ride his mother's dragon and was flung off it," she had laughed until her ribs ached and tears were rolling down her eyes as she told her that particular piece of news, on another night where he had been invited to sup with the rest of the Bazzanne family, "even I know one cannot ride a dragon bonded to another."

"Your mother was fed to a dragon, and your brother was forced to watch," that had been the most gruesome one he had heard, even Lysarra had not laughed as she told him that.

He had not let himself believe it then. 'Lysarra always lies', he had reminded himself over-and-over again. It was a prayer he said often through the entirety of his captivity. He had convinced himself that she just wanted to break him. And he would not be broken, he would not yield to some slaver bitch.

The anguish came to him now in full force. It was all true. His sisters had confirmed all the grim tales. He would truly never see them again. Tears were stinging his eyes. He let them flow unencumbered. The beautiful form of his mother formed in his mind; exasperated from the havoc and mischief that him, Joffrey and Aegon usually caused. 'Why can't you boys be well-behaved like your sisters?' she heard her voice ask, tired, her hand nestled in her hair and pulling. 'Gods we need more girls in this castle.' Her father had always laughed when she said that.

He could vividly hear the distinct trills and squeals of Caraxes as he rode with his father with Syrax, ridden by his mother and Aegon, next to them. He could see the red dragon and the gold weaving in and out of each other, dancing in the skies.

He felt hand on his shoulder just as was about to let out a desperate sob. He turned to see Baela, beautiful as always, her hair cut shorter than even his was now.

"Viserys," she called, her features softening when she saw the tears in his eyes. Immediately, he embraced her, his arms wrapping around her middle while hers were around his shoulders and holding his head, as if a babe. He stayed there for long moments, letting the warmth of her gloved hands pull him into a trance, as the river that was his sorrow flowed through him, his tears staining her beautiful black woollen overcoat that had rubies and jet sewn into it in beautiful patterns.

They stayed like that for a long moment, Baela's dexterous fingers kneading through his hair endlessly, soothing him as his mother had once done. Suddenly he felt silly. Why the fuck was he crying? Aegon had watched their mother be eaten by a dragon, while he had been safely away, in captivity yes, but still safe. His brother had witnessed the gruesome fate of their mother. He had not. Their siblings had been there when their father died. They had been there when Joffrey died. Baela had duelled Sunfyre and Moondancer had died as a result. They had all seen so much death, yet all three of them still found a way to move forward. Aegon had been crowned king and from what he heard, he did not shirk his duties. Baela had claimed Silverwing and was here, far away from home, seeking vengeance for his brother, seeking retribution for her betrothed. Rhaena had hatched a new dragon and was now dedicated to see their family returned to strength. He had no excuse to wallow in despair.

He disentangled himself from his sister, wiped his eyes, and regained his composure before saying, "Tell me Baela, what did you need?"

Baela for his part, did not dwell on his embarrassing bout of weeping. "Our envoys from Myr have finally returned," she told him, "you are needed."

The notion pleased him. He was the youngest among them, a prince not yet ten years old, and not even a dragonrider, yet they needed him. He was involved in every decision they made and his opinions were greatly taken into account when considering the actions they took.

"Lead the way, sister," he replied,. Baela began to walk and the sworn guards who had stood sentinel through his weeping turned to follow.

---

4th Day, Ninth Moon, 131AC | Myr

BAELA

Baela spied the Free City of Myr in the distance. And not just Myr, but their fleet as well, decked out in scorpions and catapults that shimmered in the light of the morning sun. They had thought most of it obliterated after the Gullet. They looked like small tiny dots atop Silverwing's back, but Baela knew how dangerous they could be. Trusting her bondmate to fly on her own, she took out the far eye in her saddle pack and surveyed the enemy fleet, counting them quickly. There were about fifty of them, arranged in attack formation, sailing to meet their own fleet. They probably thought they had the element of surprise. She scoffed.

They showed no signs of sighting the dragon above. Good. It was an overcast day, and it seemed that the grey of the clouds hid The Silver Queen's form effectively. She put the far eye back into the saddle pack. She then checked the chains that secured her to the new saddle she had had made for her beloved mount soon after she claimed her. She was secure, much more secure and comfortable than she had been on the old and tattered saddle that Ulf White and most likely Alysanne, the good queen her father so despised, had used. It would not do good for her to fall off the back of the dragon, especially because she was wearing chainmail armour that would have sunk with her if she landed in the sea.

Her heart was filled with anticipation now. Finally, she was going to do it. She was going to avenge her betrothed, slaying the men who had slain him and Vermax. The entirety of Myr would remember this day. They had dared to attack their home, their realm, their house. And even when they had humbly requested reparations for that attack, they had broken guest-right instead, sending back a slave carrying a box containing their envoy's head and a letter to serve as a warning.

'We have slain dragons before,' they had arrogantly boasted. 'The bastard boy in the coast of Driftmark and your great grandfather in Tarth those many decades earlier were slain by us. Even the scorpion that slew the dragon of Aegon's silver bitch in Dorne was made in Myr. Return to Westeros with your large pets, little girls, or you will face your peril.'

She would show them what this little girl would do. She looked up, hoping that Jace could see her now from the great beyond, as she reached for the golden chain under her armour and clothing, clutching it tightly. He had given it to her as a betrothal gift on the night he died, promising to finally marry her once he returned from battle. He never did, and she had sworn vengeance upon those responsible. "As promised, my love, they will pay," she whispered, as if in prayer. She then kissed the jewel piece, then put it back under her chainmail and the heavy woollen garb that she had worn underneath.

She could feel Silverwing's eagerness through their bond. Despite herself, she smiled. The seemingly dainty mount of the good and kind queen was still a dragon, hungry for blood. Today, she would oblige. Soon enough, she was directly above the Myrish fleet. Baela gave the command for Silverwing to dive, to unleash death and destruction on the fleet of the city that had dared defy them.

The dragon obeyed. It had been one of the most basic lessons both her father and grandfather had taught her concerning combat involving dragons. 'Dragons attack from above. Dragons always attack from above.' Daemon Targaryen's voice resounded in her head.

She could feel the wind on her face as Silverwing picked up speed through the dive. Her heart was thumping beneath her breasts, her senses feeling more alert than ever before. She felt otherworldly, getting heady from the power coursing through her from the bond she had with her dragon. At the last second, she whispered the command; the one that had been used to destroy entire cities, the command that had been used to end entire civilisations.

"Zaldrīzes perzys."

It felt as if she was the dragon, as if she was the one spewing silvery-white flames from her throat onto the unknowing ships below her. It was as if she had grown wings and was the one actually flying. Silverwing made a pass, torching the ships in the rear of the Myrish formation. It had been an instinctual choice, made in the spur of the moment, but it had been the right one. All the scorpions, catapults and arrows were facing one direction, expecting the attack to come from the front. They might have even had scouting boats to verify the approach of their own fleet. But it would not matter.

Men screamed as she flew back into the clouds, only to emerge once again like a demon from the seven hells and spewing flames on the right flank of the ships this time. The water had begun to boil and the mixture of steam and smoke rose to reach her. Before they could turn their scorpion engines to face her, she flew once more into the clouds, where they could not even hope to spot her.

Silverwing descended once more, now in the centre of the Myrish formation, decimating the ships there and turning the men and the wood into nothing but ash. Smoke was thick in the air now, doing enough to obstruct the visibility of the enemy fleet. Baela judged it would be enough cover for Silverwing to freely decimate the rest before they could even try and aim for her. In truth, even the caution she had employed thus far wasn't truly needed. Silverwing was three quarters the size of her mother's Vhagar was by the time she died; her scales were hard enough to deflect scorpions as if they were just flies disturbing her, but Baela had learned dragon riding with Moondancer, who was much younger and had scales much softer; thus the need to evade was instinctual. One could never be too cautious anyways.

This time as she dived, she let Silverwing take control, taking her through pass after pass through line after line of the Myrish formation. The Myrish fleet had made the mistake of packing themselves close to each other, presumably so that the volleys and scorpions bolts they shot at the dragon had more of a chance of hitting her. They would not get to shoot even one, Baela vowed. The men below could only look up to see black smoke and then a spark of silvery-white flame before they died.

When Baela judged the decimation complete, she urged Silverwing to ascend, up and up back into the clouds, where she belonged. She took out her far eye once more to make sure there were no survivors. There were none. All the ships were now nothing but ash or floating husks in the boiling sea. Good. Alyn and his fleet would have easy passage to land their army on the coast.

She had to stop herself from grinning like a child. The second part of the mission would be harder than what she had just accomplished. She was to make the entry into Myr as bloodless as possible for their men, and for the sacking of the city to be quick and efficient. All the men that garrisoned the city, its walls and strongholds had to be dealt with.

She flew ahead, at full speed now, far eye in hand checking for the forces that were on the outer city walls. Like the other cities built by Valyrians, it had an outerwall for the protection of the general populace and an inner city wall where the nobility ensconced themselves in all their glory. She expected the inner walls to be made of dragonstone like they were in Volantis, and dragonstone was impervious to dragonfire. Men were not.

Like the ships, the walls were littered with loaded scorpions and trebuchets. This time there would be no gambits or tricks like she had just done with the fleet, meaning she had to be more careful lest she suffered the fate of her grandmother's namesake. For the city, there was only one way to go. Strafe the walls and destroy the opposition there, and then go on systematically, street by street, dispatching the defenders there. Their army would then have little opposition in marching through and taking all its wealth. She had to take care and restrain Silverwing's excitement and surprising blood-thirst this time. She was not to destroy the city and its people entirely, only the men who wished to defend it. They were to free the skilled slaves with the promise of them living better lives in the Seven Kingdoms.

Within less than a minute, she had reached the coasts and the city's harbour. This time, she did not need to give the command, Silverwing already knowing her intentions and heeding them. The watchtower on the docks was bathed in silvery white flames. Stone began to crack and melt and twist, wood came aflame, and most importantly, the men inside were cooked. She stopped once she was sure sufficient damage was done.

There were numerous ships of different classes docked on the city's harbour. Truly this city was more wealthy than they had anticipated. Fifty of their ships had been destroyed by Jace, fifty more destroyed by her today, and there were still many, many vessels docked on the harbour. These ones were not armed and the docks had been abandoned, therefore Baela did not burn them. Alyn would accomplish his assigned mission easily, he and his sailors were to seize as many of them as they could for both the crown and her grandfather's house.

Her attention now turned to the walls of the city and the men that stood on top of them; men that had begun firing scorpion bolts at her. On instinct, she made herself as small as possible on the saddle, and Silverwing bathed them with her fires. The fired scorpions were incinerated before any reached her and the men who fired them screamed as they burned. Like she did with the fleet, she climbed high into the sky and dove on the outer walls once more, strafing a long line of flames on the defenders that were now fleeing for their lives. It would make no difference. Their fates were sealed.

Once she made sure the scorpions in range of her were obliterated, she flew low, hovering over the gates of the city, as Silverwing's fires bathed them continuously for about half a minute. When she was done it was nothing but a pile of ash, with the gatehouse and the men inside it burned, and even the stone had begun to crack and melt from the heat. Here, Silverwing did not relent, until the gates were completely destroyed, making sure that the Dragon's Teeth would have a clear entry. She smirked at the name of the army; it had stuck, and would be declared official once they returned home.

Once the gates were done and Baela flew into the city proper, what she encountered was pure pandemonium. Columns of soldiers had been deployed and were shooting arrows at her. What gave her pause however, were the commonfolk. It seemed that in their pride, the armies of Myr had elected to have their slaves march in front of them, using them as human shields and a last line of defence, thinking that would save them from dragonfire and the fury of the Targaryen armies.

It truly dismayed Baela when she ordered Silverwing to bathe them in her flames. She had no desire of harming anyone who had done no ill against her, but she had no choice. They would make things harder for her army than they ought to be, and would also lead to them losing more lives than they had to. She went street by street, clearing each of the opposing soldiers and their human shields.

Soon enough, with flaming streets and mostly unscathed buildings behind her, she finally approached the black walls that were so famous in Valyrian architecture. For a moment Baela wondered why they had not been implemented on Dragonstone, oh right, the volcanoes served as natural walls, making the castle impenetrable, or so they had thought.

The nobles of Myr probably thought that their Valyrian walls made the inner ring impenetrable as well. They were about to be proven wrong. Regardless of the walls being immune to dragonflame, the men atop them who were shooting scorpion bolts and arrows at her were not. One by one, they were turned to ash. The gates were also not made of dragonstone, and were thus obliterated as the gates of the outer wall had. Like the rest of the outer city, she burned any defenders that were arrayed in front of her. She was even more careful here, for the main institutions holding the greatest wealth were ensconced within the inner walls. The Myrish bank for example was incredibly wealthy in its own right, even if not as wealthy as the Iron Bank of Braavos and Rogare Bank of Lys.

Baela made endless laps above the city for about three hours more, using Silverwing's flames to clear any more obstacles for the Dragon's Teeth that dared to show themselves. She hoped that the slaves hiding inside the buildings and homes did not prove to be too much of a problem for their army. Rhaena had commanded them to ensure they were not to be raped or violated in any sort of way if they did not resist. They were only to take the riches their masters hoarded.

Finally, she spotted Velaryon ships landing on the docks of the harbour. She wordlessly beckoned her beloved to land on the coast, near her grandfather's flagship, The Queen Who Never Was, watching atop Silverwing as the men dismounted and formed up in columns as they had been taught to do. The dragon landed perpendicular to the city and the sea; it would not be good for any remaining stragglers to shoot her down with her back turned.

"Men of House Targaryen," she spoke once the five thousand of them had formed up, her voice confident and booming, "the defiant city of Myr has been opened to us. We shall take their riches as they took ours. We shall slay their soldiers as they slew ours. We shall commandeer their ships as they burned ours. Today is the day of vengeance, the day the world will know our wrath. Today is the day of retribution."

The speech had its intended effect, with the men cheering, hooting and hollering as they marched, their columns perfect even as they dragged the hundreds of carts and wagons to be used in carrying the riches they were about to take to the ships. As always, their commander, Eldric Umber, who had taken the vanguard, did not disappoint, leading the men in what had become their signature chant.

"Strike hard and Strike True!" he yelled.

"With Fire and Blood!!" the men responded as one.

Baela commanded Silverwing to ascend into the skies once more. It was not truly needed, but it would be good for the armies to see a dragon flying above them. It would also deter any Myrish soldiers that had so far hidden themselves.

---

4th - 11th Day, Ninth Moon, 131AC

ALYN VELARYON

The Velaryon Fleet had passed through the ruins and husks of the fallen Myrish ships. All his men had their catapults loaded and arrows knocked, in case there were any stragglers who had miraculously survived the onslaught of dragonflame. It seemed there was not. Baela had been thorough. There was not even one soul clinging to a piece of floating wreckage that they had to dispatch. No. Their path towards the Myrish harbour would be a clear one.

Using his far-eye, he could see Silverwing flying above, strafing the city's walls. After seeing what Baela had done here, he knew the Dragon's Teeth would face little to no difficulty in their invasion.

He sighed. He had wished to finally bloody his sword in actual battle. All his life he had only fought in the training yard. The only bruises he truly earned were the burns he had gotten in his failed attempt in claiming Sheepstealer. He was not as lucky as his late older brother, who had successfully claimed a dragon, and had proven himself a true scion of Valyria, a worthy claimant to the Driftwood throne. He knew his place as heir to Driftmark was in danger, with his rival claimant being a trueborn dragonrider who had just proven herself in battle.

"What bothers you so much, cousin? Silverwing has just made this whole affair much easier for us than it would have been otherwise," his distant cousin Monford, a descendant of Daemon Velaryon (the Old King's uncle) through his youngest son Victor, asked him. Unlike cousins Daeron, Daemion, Malentine and Rhogar who wholly opposed his ascension and had been nothing but cold to him, Monford had been his truest friend since he and his brother had been legitimised and publicly declared as Velaryons.

"Silverwing leaves no battles for us to fight," he told his kin, a wan smile on his face.

Monford laughed at that, "We should be grateful for that. We live longer because of it. And worry not. There'll be no shortage of glory for the taking in these coming moons. The twins have pledged to clean up their brother's realm from the destruction caused by the Dance.

"And, the riches of Myr should change your mind soon enough," Monford added, giving him a friendly pat on his back.

He was silent for the rest of the ship's journey to the harbour. Whether Monford found that unusual, he did not say. As the gangplank lowered and the Targaryen armies and Velaryon Sailors began to disembark, Alyn struggled to rid himself of all these dark thoughts and steeled himself for the task ahead. He was to capture the ships in the harbour. As Baela finished her speech and took flight once more, he got to work with the rest of his men.

The task was easier than he thought. There were few people in the ships. All those found who fought back were dispatched quickly, as his sailors seized one ship after the other. Most of them were cogs and galleys, but there were a few carracks, a relatively new ship design which had not yet begun being used in Westeros.

Within an hour, the Targaryen men emerged from the city proper with carts and wagons filled with treasures from Myr. They began as a trickle, a trickle which turned into a flood. The captured Myrish ships were to be used to store the seized loot.

There were caches of gold, silver, bronze and other precious gems, many, many rolls of Myrish lace from the industrial complex of the town, carpets and drapes sought after by the wealthy throughout the Known World. There was even Valyrian Steel, sheets of it, found deep within the vaults of the Bank of Myr, used to preserve the value of the Myrish currency since dragonsteel perpetually retained its value. Apart from the sheets found in the vaults of the Bank, there were also many, many pieces of jewellery, cutlery, furniture and other ornamentation though curiously, only two weapons were found, both of them spears taken off the ashes of the soldiers who had been incinerated.

It took seven days for the Sack of Myr to be completed, although the last days were spent organising the looted treasure into the ships they had seized from the Myrish harbour. Some carried the jewellery and the caches of precious metals, others carried the Myrish drapes, carpets and other fabric. There were even five carracks full of actual coin, taken from the reserves of the Bank of Myr, other small banks and the homes of the wealthy in the city; those would be melted down and reforged into Westerosi coin for the Royal Treasury, although he hoped a good chunk of it would be given to Driftmark to indemnify them for their losses during the war.

Alyn had been right about there being almost no fighting. Apart from the soldiers that Baela had already decimated, there was little resistance to their marching armies. Even the nobility seemed to have disappeared; they were suspected to have retreated to their residences and estates in the hinterlands. Continuing their invasion into the Myrish hinterlands had been suggested, but ultimately rejected by the two princesses. They were only to take the wealth of the city; the wealth of the rest of the territories would be left to the Pentoshi once they began their conquest; an agreement apparently reached between both parties.

The greatest treasure however, was not the loot, but the people. In their selfishness and self-preservation, the nobility and the rich merchants had all fled the city, leaving their slaves and armies to be burned to death. Although some had, due to the soldiers using them as meat shields, the vast majority were found hiding in the homes of their former masters and almost all of them were more than happy and willing to be freed from their yoke of servitude and begin anew in Westeros as free men. About forty thousand were skilled slaves; having expertise in architecture, glassmaking, banking, textile refinery, shipbuilding among other professions. There were even some who claimed to be Qohorik smiths who could reforge Valyrian Steel. To add to that, there was almost double that number of unskilled labourers who had all been freed and had been assured of new lives in Westeros.

"My lord," one of the Dragon's Teeth officers called to him.

"Last I checked my grandfather is still alive," he replied with a smile. The man seemed to be slow on the uptick on what he meant, so he went on. "I am not a Lord yet."

"Forgive me," he said humbly, bowing in deference.

"Pay it no mind."

The man got even more nervous for some reason. Truly, he had chosen the wrong person to jest with. It took a few moments before he found his words again, "The Princess asks for your audience."

"Very well, I am not one to reject the summons of a princess,"he replied, gesturing for him to lead the way. He came upon where The Silver Queen had laid down on her wing tips, as if a giant pet. One could almost forget the terror that she had unleashed on the city only a sennight earlier… almost. Baela stood near her dragon's maw, giving her affectionate pets, the dragon rumbling contentedly, making her rider giggle. The knight who had brought him to her bowed and left, giving them a wide berth for privacy.

"One would almost think you're petting a rather large cat."

"Silverwing likes to know she is loved," she said, chuckling, before turning to her dragon and saying softly, "You're a needy dragon, aren't you?" The dragon gave a puff of dragon's breath in her rider's direction while chortling, making the princess giggle once more. Alyn chuckled as well; was this what Addam felt? He asked himself.

"I wish to speak to you concerning the division of our newly acquired treasure, cousin. Our grandfather fought valiantly in the war, and Driftmark suffered many losses because of it. The sailors under your command have been crucial in this campaign as well."

"You can rest assured that House Velaryon will be properly compensated for that by the crown," she told him. What did that even mean? Alyn asked himself, before voicing the question out loud.

"How exactly?"

"We've seized eighty-five ships from the Myrish port, ten of them will be added to the Velaryon fleet. Some caches of gold and silver will be transferred to Driftmark's treasury as well."

That was outrageous. Ten, only ten!. House Velaryon had lost a half of their entire fleet during the battle against the Triarchy; almost a hundred ships. To add to that, Driftmark had been brutally sacked and much of it's wealth taken or put to the torch.

"Pardon me Princess, but I don't think that is quite enough," he replied, in as charming a manner as he could be.

"It is, cousin. Remember that most of House Velaryon turned against its lord during that battle. They were the ones to condemn their own ships to dragonflame, wouldn't you agree? Treachery should not be compensated now should it?" she replied, her demeanour suddenly serious.

"I was under the assumption that the crown would indemnify House Velaryon for its losses during the Dance; for its fleets and wealth to return to their state before the Dance began."

"This is indemnification Alyn. Of the hundred ships fielded in the Battle of the Gullet, thirty were under yours and cousin Monford's command. Of those thirty, ten were destroyed by the Triarchy before Prince Jacaerys and the other dragonriders intervened in the battle. The other thirty-five that were destroyed alongside the Triarchy fleets had all turned their cloaks, most of them having been equipped with the same sort of scorpions that once felled Meraxes in Dorne.

"Those ones joined the Triarchy in trying to destroy the twenty remaining loyal vessels and shoot the dragonriders out of the sky; one of those dragonriders being your brother. The remaining thirty-five used the chaos of the battlefield to flee, and have since taken up piracy either in the Stepstones or the Basilisk Isles. And, House Velaryon currently has a hundred ships remaining in its disposal; still more than any other house in Westeros, maybe apart from Redwyne and Hightower."

Alyn had no defence against that. Even the descendants of his great-grandfather's and great-great grandfather's younger brothers had turned against their lord for supporting Rhaenyra's claim to the throne after cousin Vaemond was slain and Monford's five brothers had their tongues removed with hot pincers for daring to acknowledge that the her children were no true Velaryons.

Even after those false heirs had died, his grandfather had then put forward his son's bastards as the heirs to Driftmark, and everyone knew that legitimised or not, a bastard was still a bastard, even one of Velaryon blood. It was seen as a slight by the many, many trueborn scions of House Velaryon that children born out of wedlock were considered before them in the line of succession for Driftmark. Alyn sighed, his hands going automatically to the bridge of his nose.

"Very well. If grandfather has agreed to that proposal then so do I. He is still lord and thus I cannot gainsay him."

"He has." Baela replied.

"Good, now that we're in agreement, please prepare your men to set sail for Bloodstone once more. Rhaena has sent me a raven from camp, we are needed." she finished as she went to mount Silverwing, who became immediately ready and alert.

---

Author's Note:
Next chapter is '12. The Looting of Lys', where we shall meet the infamous House Rogare and their "magnificent" patriach, Lysandro, as promised. If you're feeling impatient, and would like to read that chapter and four more after it now, you can do so here.

 

[theoretisch cool]

nice. The only question is whether the Targaryens will start producing glass themselves or whether they will allow a vassal to acquire the knowledge. (I would be in favor of the former. Glass is a money printing machine).

 

[neyra]

nice. The only question is whether the Targaryens will start producing glass themselves or whether they will allow a vassal to acquire the knowledge. (I would be in favor of the former. Glass is a money printing machine).

Click to shrink...

Deffo themselves. A goal of the twins is to depower their vassals as much as possible and empower House Targaryen as much as possible. Centralisation is the name of the game.

 

[Nathaniel Carrion]

Definitely themselves. A goal of the twins is to depower their vassals as much as possible and empower House Targaryen as much as possible. Centralisation is the name of the game.

Click to shrink...

That's right. The realm isn't an absolute monarchy. For now. Absolutism existed only when the monarch was able to ignore and overpower their nobles to put all power in the hand of the central authority due to socio-economics moving away from rural land to commerce. Westeros still follows feudalism. Also, there was never really a royal army unless you count the gold cloaks. Even when there was dragons around, the Iron Throne has always relied on the military support and authority of its high lords to get anything done and each still has a high level of autonomy. It's shown consistently that people tend to have more loyalty to their lords than they do their king. But the Targaryens never worried about any of that back then simply because they had dragons. That's very careless and complacent of them if you ask me.

Aegon the Conqueror thought feudalism was a better alternative to absolute monarchy if I recall correctly—instead of the King governing the whole country directly, he ruled through a chain of feudal relationships (eg commoners pay fealty to their lords, who pay fealty to high lords, who pay fealty to the crown). The king is not directly involved in the day to day administration of the country as a whole. Westeros is sort of a flattened, simplified version of the AngloSaxon system, which was not an absolute monarchy either.

In other words, the presence of dragons created a new political/military order in Westeros, not entirely unlike the one the Valyrian Freehold imposed over Essos: hegemonic domination through threat of annihilation. As the Field of Fire demonstrated, no army could withstand an assault from a dragon, meaning numerical superiority wasn't a thing anymore. No lord wanted to see their castles, lands, and people sundered by dragon fire, and by maintaing a monopoly on dragons (barring a couple of instances where House Velaryon had access to dragons through marriage), House Targaryen was able to keep even the Great Houses in line. That was the establishment they invested in for the first hundred years of their reign, because at the time, the idea that they could lose their dragons failed to really enter their minds. But, lo and behold, they did.

But this way of governance wasn't entirely new either because Aegon the Conqueror, despite his power, largely maintained the existing feudal hierarchy in Westeros by placing himself at the top because it was a practical way to rule such a large landmass, minimizing resistance by allowing existing lords to keep their power and titles while swearing allegiance to him, thus ensuring stability and preventing widespread rebellion across the newly united kingdoms; essentially, he "bought" their loyalty by keeping the system largely intact. And because he and his sisters didn't want to directly oversee and micromanage the administrative affairs of all these lands they've just recently conquered by themselves.

As the books and show has always proven, Westeros itself is not actually considered a nation-state or an absolute monarchy because it is divided into several semiautonomous and independent kingdoms, each with its own distinct culture and ruling house, rather than being a unified political entity under a single central government; this is more akin to a feudal system where power is decentralized across different regions. People in Westeros would identify with their region first and foremost and use those designations: Northmen, Valemen, westermen, rivermen, Ironborn, Dornish, etc. In proactive terms, regional affiliation is much stronger than national affiliation. When referring to people in the country as a whole, the term "Westerosi" would be used even though Westeros the continent isn't precisely the same thing as the Seven Kingdoms. In short, the people of Westeros tend to identify more strongly with their region or kingdom than with a unified "Westerosi" identity. GRRM said Aegon I, Aenys, Jaehaerys I and Maegor were the closest to absolute monarchs, and all of them had dragons.

So, the bloody aftermath of this civil war is a great opportunity for Rhaena and her siblings to further consolidate the royal power of House Targaryen over the continent and continue to centralize the entire realm into more of a nation-state instead of the decentralized confederation that it is. After all, a consolidation of power, especially if it has to be done quickly, comes in response to a crisis such as a war or an invasion.

Since the lack of successful centralization in the realm of Westeros can be attributed to a considerable number of interrelated factors. I think the most common answer to this is that circumstances got in the way of the Targaryen Dynasty building a better system. Aegon I was more concerned with completing/consolidating the conquest; Aenys and Maegor were focused on completing Aegon's work, especially the Red Keep, and maintaining their own positions; and then Jaehaerys attempted centralization without rocking the boat too much. The Old King tried for decades to reform and unify the disparate laws of the Seven Kingdoms, he built roads to knit the regions closer together, and he made his yearly progresses to demonstrate Targaryen supremacy. Like Jaehaerys managed to do some centralisation with codifying all laws into one and building the kingsroad. But his later years were spent much like his predecessors, being reactive instead of proactive. Viserys I wanted everyone to like him so he didn't impose any major reforms to the laws, even when it could have benefited his female heir. His inaction and foolishness is partly what led to the Dance of Dragons. Then the Dance screwed everything and set the kingdoms against each other. Further, killing all the fighting dragons removed the central unifying power structure that kept Targaryen rule unquestioned. Changes in relative power frequently precipitate conflict and predictably the kingdoms faced rebellion after rebellion, civil war after civil war.

Feudal systems are decentralized by their very nature (you get lordship of some land, you provide taxes and levies when your overlord calls). Keeping one's vassals balanced against each other keeps any one from challenging you, and 1-v-1 the highest lord should be able to take on any rebels, but you're essentially first among equals. It's a durable system overall but prone to frequent internal conflict, hence pre-Targ Westeros never being unified in any sustained way. Targaryen power in Westeros was not in land or armies but dragons, so post-Dance you have a feudal overlord with imperial ambitions that is demonstrably less powerful than several of his vassals. (When reading the book series, I've always found it incredibly strange how few troops the royal family commanded. The Targaryens had managed to keep power for this long only because of dragons, but with no dragons in possession of the future generations after the Dance, how had they held onto power without armies as vast as those of the Lord Paramounts?)

On a side note, I think Aegon V "the Unlikely" shows the paradox the Targaryens were in, especially after the dragons died out. Egg (as he is known as a kid and as I'll call him for simplicity sake) was a reformer and hence the most unique monarch out of all the Targaryen kings. He implemented many necessary reforms to win the love of the "smallfolk", and promote growth and trade by allowing small businesses to take off more. The problem is, with the way things were set up leading to his reign, of a very rigid feudal and manorial system with little mobility, multiple lords rebelled because of their lost privileges. This meant Egg spent a lot of his reign putting out these insurrections. These constant, unending petty rebellions made Egg desperate for a solution. Desperate enough to try and resurrect the dragons. In his failure, he destroyed Summerhall (the Targaryens second seat of power later on, both a vacation home and a very rich and fertile area), and got himself and his son and heir burned alive. This left his sickly and a lot more traditional son Jaehaerys II in charge, and put his grandson Aerys (who would grow into the Mad King Aerys II) further up in the line of succession. In other words, the Targaryens needed both dragons and their own personally massive army to keep a whole continent in check. As well as finding constant ways to make sure that they influence and control the peasants more than the nobles do.

Even Aegon III Targaryen who hated dragons because he saw his mother, Queen Rhaenyra, being eaten by Sunfyre, his uncle's dragon, which deeply traumatized him. Knew the importance of dragonpower. Despite this hatred, he later tried to revive the dragon population, knowing they were vital to Targaryen power and to uphold his family's legacy. He feared dragons and did not want to ride one, but knew they were the tools his family needed to stabilize the realm and cow those who sought to oppose the Targaryen dynasty in the future.

By contrast, true imperial systems like Valyria or Old Ghis are extremely centralized, with one entity utterly dominating and exploiting all others through economic, mercantile, and military force. But those systems tend to disintegrate when you remove the instruments of power that enable the central entity to dominate their vassals. Common cultural unifiers like language, religion, communications infrastructure, and trade have kept much of the Seven Kingdoms together longer than would be expected given the power relationships involved, but it seems pretty clear that as a single entity the Seven Kingdoms' power has ebbed steadily since the Dance and without a central dominating power to assume control, they will eventually fall apart. Which is exactly what happened in the books. In short, the Targaryens can pretty much be divided into two almost separate dynasties pre and post Dance due to the drastic loss of power.

Pre-Dance:
The Targaryens didn't care to institute too many drastic reforms, taking their lead from Aegon the Conqueror who seemed to prefer a more decentralized system and tried to avoid interfering with localized politics and traditions. Jaehaerys did a fair bit to try centralize Westeros but aside from that no other Targaryen King pre-Dance really shared that ambition.

Post-Dance:
The Targaryens power and dynastic respect took a massive hit. They went from Westeros' near undisputed Valyrian dragon riding masters to just the ruling house of the time. Rhaenyra's and Daemon's descendant Aegon V tried unsuccessfully to institute reform but was plagued with rebellion and disobedience because he lacked the power to force it through. Anyways, a lot of this is likely reflective of GRRM's own views on how reform happens with drastic reform needing violence and more subtle progress requiring some level of improvement in general education and/or living standards. Westeros also struggles by virtue of geography and cultural disparity. It's very big and there is at least one or two fundamentally incompatible culture pairings.

Generally, lords are very prickly about their power and privileges, and while Targaryens can break them by force, it tends to be expensive and risky. Especially if too many of them feel threatened at once. The closest any king came to restricting the power of certain lords was probably Aegon V passing laws for the sake of the smallfolk, and he faced constant opposition and even rebellions for it. But the one thing that made Aegon really special in that regard is that he cared a lot more about how the realm was run for the benefit of most of the people living in it, while other Targaryens were often just trying to make sure they were the ones running it, and keeping the status quo was the safest course of action in the short term. Many of the Targaryens before and after Aegon V weren't exactly wise and smart rulers. They were entitled and spoiled. Even the good ones have an over inflated perception of themselves and a fucked up perception of things. Also, the Targs were never really liked all that much, they were mostly tolerated. Also, there is no sense of national identity within Westeros. These people were their own thing in every one of the kingdoms for thousands of years until the Targs came and said "No"....and then did essentially nothing to foster complete unity.

Furthermore, House Targaryen's biggest weakness is that their power was rooted in fear. Now that's an effective tool for being followed, but it does not inspire eternal loyalty. Tywin Lannister's dynasty crumbled the moment he died because there was no one to be afraid of. Aerys had no weapon of mass destruction (except wildfire) at all and saw his family come to ruin. Rhaenyra basically sat aside and did nothing when the smallfolk slaughter all of her dragons. They all should've learned to work with their citizens, nobility and smallfolk alike (but the smallfolk mainly since the commoners tend to always outnumber the nobility. Three to one), instead of holding themselves above them as if they were actually chosen by gods. Instead they were a family slowly tearing their kingdom apart piece by piece. Their overall reliance on the dragons to win wars and as political tools to solely maintain their rule over the realm was very shortsighted error on their part. After all, a dragon or a sharp sword isn't always a suitable tool for solving all problems.

In summation, House Targaryen lost power because they failed to properly prepare for a future where they didn't have dragons; I think in the end, the prospect of such a future never even crossed their mind. Despite their dynastic state of decline, how did the Targaryens manage to retain power for so long after the loss of their dragons? Well, there were a few factors that helped keep the dynasty going in the canon:

1. Jaehaerys' efforts to improve infrastructure, most notably through the construction of the major roads throughout the kingdoms, greatly improved trade and commerce. This did a lot of to keep the peace and keep the lords happy with their rule as the norm. Why overthrow the family that helped make you richer?
2. War. War brings a country together and there were a handful of wars that challenged the Seven Kingdoms from outside. There were a lot of threats to Westeros within the following decades between the reigns of Aegon III and Jaehaerys II that helped unite people under the Targaryen banner in the name of patriotism. The Blackfyre Rebellions (especially War of the Ninepenny Kings), minor rebellions (i.e. Vulture King), the Red Kraken...conflict does a lot to secure a rule. In the books, the Baratheon rule was the strongest it ever was after the Greyjoy Rebellion.
3. Houses Baratheon, Tully and Tyrell were installed by the Targaryens. This meant that the Crownlands were bordered by the three domains run by the three Great Houses that were supposed to be unquestionably loyal or owed their position to them...until Aerys II.
4. Propaganda. By the time the dragons died, it had been drilled into every Westerosi child's mind, lowborn and highborn, that Targaryens ruled by divine right. Feudalism relies on people not questioning the status quo, which is how every Lord or Lady rules over their people. They preferred it to the chaos that was Westeros Pre-Targaryen. They'd gotten used to the Targaryens ruling and the doctrine of exceptionalism established them as "superior" to normal men which is basically their equivalent to divine right of rule.

In short, the Targs kept ruling because of inertia. The Targaryens have been in power for over a century and are deeply embedded in the Westerosi political system. Meaning they are basically the face of the government that the realm depends on for stability. In the canon, this is the reason why none of the Great Houses have immediately overthrew them after the Dance ended. The dynasty was established enough that no one then remembered the pre-Targaryen era firsthand. If the dragons had all died out in, say, Aenys I or Maegor I's reigns, it might be a different story and the house probably would have been run out on a rail then. Also, overthrowing monarchies or government institutions is a lot of work. You need to unite enough kingdoms/people together. Convincing them to join you for no apparent reason other than "the dragons are gone" is usually going to be a hard sell. People like comfort. And they usually do not want to get out of the zone until their own existence or pride is at stake.

Furthermore, most of Westeros in the immediate post-Dance of the Dragons era had no military capability left, or limited capability, to fight the Targaryens or each other even if they wanted to. And none of the lords by then had any desire to upset the current balance of power. If you are a Lord Paramount and you declare yourself independent, chances are the rest of the kingdoms unite against you. So for any one Great House (the only houses that can really threaten Targaryen power), the math makes it so that you can't just unilaterally declare independence or want to take the throne by yourself. You need the support of enough of the other great houses to stand a chance.

To significantly improve society in Westeros, the most crucial areas for change would be: a more stable political system with less power concentrated in the hands of a few noble houses, greater social mobility beyond the rigid class structure, advancements in agriculture to combat the harsh winters and potential famines, and a shift towards more equitable treatment of women and lower classes; essentially, moving away from the feudal system that fosters constant conflict and towards a more centralized, just governance with improved economic stability. But the twins will need win and put down a lot of wars and rebellions to make sure this all happens in the future.

Hollow Crowns and Deadly Thrones

Part I – The Constitution of Westeros Part II – The Early Monarchs, From Aegon the Conqueror to the End of Dragons Part III – Conciliarism and the Monarchy in Crisis Part IV &#821…

racefortheironthrone.wordpress.com

Hands of the King

Part I – The Early Hands Part II – The Hand in Crisis Part III – Tywin the Great? Part IV – Two Honest Men Part V – Tyrion Lannister

racefortheironthrone.wordpress.com

A Laboratory of Politics

Part I – The Constitutions of Essos Part II – The Rise and Fall of Empires Part III – The Braavosi Republic Part IV – The Free Cities And Their Discontents Part V – Th…

racefortheironthrone.wordpress.com

Just War Theory and the Dance of the Dragons: Part I

Last year, I wrote an in-depth analysis of how the conflicts of George R. R. Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire relate to the principles of just war. In that series, I looked at how each of the primar…

tragedyandfarce.blog

Just War Theory and the Dance of the Dragons: Part II

Last time, I discussed the morality of the actions taken by the Blacks and the Greens at the outbreak of the Dance of the Dragons, the fictional conflict depicted in the upcoming HBO show House of …

tragedyandfarce.blog

Battleship Doctrine and the Dance of the Dragons

George R. R. Martin’s Dance of the Dragons is an difficult war to understand because dragons are so unlike any other medieval military tool. However, if we turn to more recent history, we can gain …

tragedyandfarce.blog

Gorged on Grief: A Political Analysis of Aegon III Targaryen

Aegon the Dragonbane, by Amok Under Viserys I, Westeros turned into a powder keg as the blacks and the greens vied for power with one another. After Viserys died and his son Aegon II took the Iron …

warsandpoliticsoficeandfire.wordpress.com

Reign Of King Aegon iii

Partagez vos vidéos avec vos amis, vos proches et le monde entier

m.youtube.com

Westeros Lore

Partagez vos vidéos avec vos amis, vos proches et le monde entier

m.youtube.com

Game of Thrones: Tactics of Dragon Warfare (Part 3 of 3) - YouTube Summarized

Summary of "Game of Thrones: Tactics of Dragon Warfare (Part 3 of 3)" by Invicta.

app.youtubesummarized.com

Historical Map 12: The Conquest -The Field of Fire and Aegon’s Crowning

Of the Seven Kingdoms before the dragons, the two greatest were undoubtedly the Kingdom of the Rock, ruled from Casterly Rock by House Lannister, and the Kingdom of the Reach, ruled from Highgarden…

atlasoficeandfireblog.wordpress.com

Game of thrones (K&G and Bazbattle)

Partagez vos vidéos avec vos amis, vos proches et le monde entier

m.youtube.com

RFTIT Basement Tapes: Revolt From Below

A while back, my editor Marc Kleinhenz asked me to write a bonus essay in case some of the Hymn for Spring essays didn’t come in on time and we needed to bulk out the book. I decided to write…

racefortheironthrone.wordpress.com

Feuds and Feudalism

George R. R. Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire and the popular television interpretation of this work Game of Thrones was inspired by medieval events. This article discusses the historical complexity…

hawkstower.wordpress.com

A World of Ice and Fire: Chapter III (The Targaryen Kings)

Ok…this is going to be a long ‘un, but a good ‘un. Let’s tuck in, shall we, and see what’s left of the Hollow Crowns Parts Two and Three?

racefortheironthrone.wordpress.com

 

[neyra]

LYSANDRO ROGARE - THE MAGNIFICENT

Tenth Moon, 131AC

The scent of seawater and the songs of seagulls floated through his open floor-to-ceiling window, gently awakening him from his slumber. His primary residence was built with an oceanfront view, and every morning he woke up to the sight of the tide receding into the sea. He rolled out of bed easily, the luxurious Naathi silk that his nightshirt was made of crackling on his form as he walked towards the balcony of his chambers, to look towards the clear blue-green waters of The Summer Sea. From the distance he could see his sweet Larra entertaining his granddaughters, the daughters of his first and second born sons Lysaro and Fredo. Said granddaughters were burying Larra in a grave of sand, leaving naught but her head poking out of it. He smiled warmly. Above all else that Lysandro Rogare had achieved, he knew that his children and grandchildren would be his true legacy.

He returned to his bedchambers after a short while of gazing into the overcast winter sky. Sometimes, he would join his children and grandchildren on the beach, but today was not the day for that. The magisters of Lys were gathering to treat with an envoy sent by the Targaryens. As much as he hated dealing with dragonlords, his bank had financed the occupation of The Stepstones by the recently fallen Triarchy, he was curious to know what House Targaryen wished for that brought them all the way to Lys. He had a clue on what exactly, but he dared not presume; his mind was already working to get his family out of any bind that they might find themselves in.

He called for a bath to be brought to his room. His slaves obliged, moments later, carrying many buckets of scalding hot water that those with the blood of Old Valyria flowing in their veins preferred. Aye, he might not be a dragonlord, but his blood was as pure as one, even more so than that of the Targaryens of Westeros. House Rogare, unlike the rest of the noble houses of Lys, had been founded by a dragonless cadet branch of one of the Forty, almost three centuries ago. Like all Valyrians, they had intermarried within themselves since then, keeping the pedigree of their blood.

He noted one particularly beautiful girl among the maids. A girl he did not remember ever seeing before. She must be new, he thought. The manager of his estates did not disappoint, always buying the prettiest girls to serve him. It had been a rule since he became the head of his house; there were almost no men among staff, safe for the guards, and even those were eunuch soldiers he had bought from Astapor. Only the most beautiful of women were to serve in the Rogare residences.

As the girls bowed and scurried out of his chambers, he beckoned the new girl to stay. He took off his nightshirt, bearing his naked form confidently. The girl blushed at the sight of him. He would too, if he was her. Despite being in his fifties, Lysandro refused to let his body lose its muscle tone and become fat from decadence and over-indulgence. He still trained in the yard as he had when he was younger, and the training was doing him good. Nothing of his appearance had changed since his youth, save for a few wrinkles here and there that were bound to appear with age.

He circled her, lightly touching where her skin was bare before stopping behind her to unlace the back of her dress. The dress was a simple thing, as all his staff wore, but still more luxurious than even some nobles could hope for; like that beggar Bambarro who had taken several loans out of his bank. Speaking of Bambarro, he had not heard from him in the past few days. He made a mental note to seek him out, this time forcefully; no one would dare to steal from him.

His mind focussed back to the absolute beauty that was in front of him, "Tell me your name sweet one?" he asked as he pulled off one strap of her dress and kissed the bare shoulder as it revealed itself. He ran his other hand through her silver hair; it smelled like lavender.

"Serenei," she replied, her voice soft and timid. He had not had a timid one for a long time, and strangely, he found her evermore intriguing because of it.

"Such a lovely name you have Serenei," he replied, as he took off the other strap of the dress, it fell to the floor soon after. The smallclothes followed the dress. Goose prickles licked at her skin where he touched and kissed it. She was definitely new. A maiden perhaps? He had not deflowered a maiden in a while. He had missed it.

He circled her again, slowly, relishing the way her body looked. Her breasts were perky and cute, her stomach soft and flat, her thighs fatty in all the best ways, ending with wide hips, and fleshy buttocks. Her eyes were glued to the floor. He could not have that, so she took her chin by his finger and raised it up, to look at him. Her eyes were shining with tears, "Do not worry, I will be gentle," he reassured her. It was as maidens were wont to do. He hoped she would not become a crying mess. That would make things much less fun for both of them, and he much preferred it to be fun.

"Touch the water, tell me if it is too hot for you," he beckoned her. She may have the silver hair and purple eyes of his people, but her blood might be diluted to the point where she could not withstand the heat. She reached down gingerly and touched it, her hesitance fading as she found out she was not affected by the heat.

"It does not hurt, Your Magnificence," she responded.

He almost preened at his sobriquet like a young boy, but he kept his composure and replied, "You shall bathe with me Serenei."

He got into the tub, and once he noticed her hesitance, he took her by her waist and lifted her to join him. She squealed at the sudden movement. She would be thankful and even eager for his attentions once she realised how much was to be gained by bearing a child of Rogare blood. There would be honours and riches that she had never seen. It was what the other women had done when he lavished gold on the sixteen bastards he had currently.

His gasping breaths became more regular as he came back down from his high. The girl's whole body was still spasming in her own pleasure. He beckoned her to face him. Tears were staining her cheeks.

"Stop that," he told her, wiping her cheeks with his wet hand, "You are too beautiful for tears." He tried to reassure her. He sighed, this was exactly why he steered clear of maidens. The tears.

"Are you in pain?" he asked her. Perhaps losing her maidenhood is what caused her so much pain, "I can get a healer to look you over."

She shook her head, "You can tell me, you are under my protection," he continued, trying to sooth her.

After a final hard sniffle, she finally composed herself, "Is there anything else you require of me?"

"I wished for us to bathe together."

The rest of the bath went on in silence as she scrubbed his body with her soft hands. Somewhere in the middle of all of it, as she was going to scrub him there, his pleasure was aroused, and he took her again, and it was as glorious as the first time. He bathed her as well, scrubbing her carefully and softly. When her nipples hardened as he washed them, it aroused him once more, and he took her another time.

The water was tepid by the time they were done, but Lysandro was thoroughly debauched. A fine way to begin the day, he supposed. He took her again as she was oiling his skin and for the last time as he was oiling hers. He had her dressed in a much better gown than she had been in when she first came to him, and promised her that they would meet again when he returned from his duties. This one would be hers for a long time, he promised himself. She was sweeter than wine. He would have his fill of her.

He walked out of his own suite and down into the dining room below to break his fast. It was mid-morning now, the time when most of his children deigned to wake up. He chuckled at the thought. He would let them enjoy the wealth he never had growing up, back then being a prodigy of a much diminished House Rogare that was suffering from a century of decline. He had been the one to lift the house out of its miserly state, after his ancestor with his same name became too ambitious after the Doom of Valyria and hatched a dragon for himself and his eldest son. Their house had suffered greatly due to his namesake's foolish desire of becoming a dragonlord. Their wealth was seized, the hatchlings cut up and the once populous house reduced to a pair of lonely scions. Those two and their descendants returned at least a sliver of the glory and status their house had before the doom, but it had been him, Lysandro the Magnificent, who truly restored the Rogare name to the glory it was entitled to.

As with every morning, there was a feast upon the massive circular oak dining table. Sixteen members of his immediate family gathered on the chairs around them. Like always, his brother sat by his right. Tomorrow he was to depart Lys for Dorne, to fulfil the betrothal pact between the dying Prince Qoren Martell and House Rogare by marrying his daughter and heir, Aliandra. It was a match that would give his house and Lys by extension control of the Stepstones; that is after the Targaryens and their dragons left Bloodstone and scurried away to their Seven Kingdoms as Prince Daemon had after a decade of fruitless conquest.

On his left sat his eldest son Lysaro, himself a father to three beautiful daughters by his cousin-wife. His son was not the prodigy he had been during his youth, but he hoped that he had enough wits to at least maintain the wealth he had gathered over his lifetime. Besides, he would learn much more under his tutelage before he died, he was sure. Beside him, his cousin-wife and their three children sat Fredo, whom he hoped would be Lysaro's right hand man as Drazenko had been his since they were young. Filling the rest of his seats was Drako, Moredo the skilled swordsman, Lotho, Rogerio, and then his daughters, his proud shining jewels, Lysarra, Marra and Larra. All his daughters would marry their cousins, his brother Drazenko's sons by his late first wife, as was their custom, and their children would inherit the assets bestowed on them.

As he was cutting into the salmon with his knife, his secretary came to the table abruptly and whispered into his ear, "There's something urgent you need to know of, Your Excellence."

He wiped his face on his towel cloth and excused himself.

"What?"

"The Targaryen's have sacked the City of Myr and seized the entirety of its wealth and ships. All its slaves have been set free and most of them have agreed to join them in Westeros."

"What about their conclave, how did they let that happen?" he asked worriedly, he did not think the dragonlords would be this brazen.

"Most of them fled to the Myrish territories in its hinterlands. The ones that did not were fed to the Targaryen's dragon," came the reply. "That's not all."

"What else?" he hastily enquired.

"They have conquered Tyrosh. And this time, all its nobles have been obliterated. The Ryndoon, Lashare, Ardarys, Eranyr and Mopyr families are all extinct now. Only a fortunate few who did not happen to be in the city during their conquest have survived and have now taken solace in their estates in the hinterlands. Tyroshi slaves have been freed, and the Targaryens have declared that The Stepstones are now part of the Sunset Kingdoms with them being administered from Tyrosh, as Valyria did before the Doom."

Tyrosh had fallen. He supposed he should be pleased since all three cities were gearing up for war with one another, but if they had annexed the Stepstones… He put his hand to the bridge of his nose. They had thought the Targaryens to have been over and done for. Fredo had attended the wedding of the new young king. He only spoke of how much the boy seemed uninterested in anything, much less his guests. Only one of the twins, Prince Daemon's whelp, had a dragon that was large enough to be feared. He had scoffed when he heard that. None of the Targaryens would trouble his family anymore, he had concluded then.

Even when Lysandro learned that they had made camp on Bloodstone, soon after the nuptials and crowning of boy king, he had thought them silly for attempting to conquer and control the Stepstones in the same vein of foolishness that Daemon Targaryen had tried to do for years, with little success. They would fend off the little girls if they proved a thorn in their side soon enough, just as they fended off the Rogue Prince for almost a decade.

They sent an envoy that had arrived two days past to treat that with them; Lysandro presumed it would be to ask Lys to side with them in alliance or to get them to stay away from all intervention or at the worst, to ask for some reparations for the Battle of the Gullet; reparations Lysandro was sure they could pay and afterwards, the Targaryens would be on their way. Should what they ask for seem ludicrous, it would not be too hard to do away with them in some way or another.

It seemed he had underestimated them. Two little girls had felled two storied cities in about two turns of the moon. Myr had been devastated and Tyrosh conquered and the entirety of their leadership destroyed. Things were more perilous than it seemed. Knowing what the Targaryens wanted was paramount now, to see how Lys would navigate the storm that was coming. A bad feeling was gnawing at his stomach.

"Where is their emissary at this moment?" he asked her.

"He is still in the manse you housed him in, in the middle of the city. As agreed, he shall be brought to the conclave this afternoon."

"Have him brought here with haste, we must know what to expect from the Targaryens," he ordered.

"As you would have it, Your Excellence," the man said, bowing before he left to do his assigned task.

He spotted Serenei down the corridor, still dressed in the exquisite silk gown he had given her, wiping one of the tables in the lounge area of his palace. The shape of her nipples could be seen clearly through the silk gown. After their bath, he did not deign to dress her in smallclothes, telling her he preferred her that way. Seeing her now, he felt stirring within his breeches and immediately called for her, excusing her from the rest of her duties for the rest of the day and leading her to his solar. Immediately the door closed, he took her once again from behind. Fortunately, this time she did not shed tears as her body spasmed from the pleasure it had just received, although her timid nature persisted, her eyes remaining glued to the floor.

The girl was seated on his lap, his hand under her silk dress, caressing her back and bottom when the door was knocked and his secretary entered with the envoy beside him, two Westerosi knights on each of his side, guarding him.

"Come, sit, my friend, we have much to discuss. I am Lysandro Rogare, magister of Lys," he introduced himself, a disarming smile on his face as he invited the envoy to sit.

"I am Ser Elyas Scales, here on behalf of House Targaryen," he replied.

House Scales? It had been a minor merchant house that had never been heard of since the Doom. Seemed they followed House Targaryen to Dragonstone. The knight's appearance bespoke his Valyrian appearance, with blonde hair and indigo eyes.

"Pour us some wine, sweet one," he beckoned Serenei, who immediately obeyed, getting up and walking to the side table and obliging him. When the wine was served, the knight did not even deign to touch it, instead keeping his hands clasped on the desk resolutely. Lysandro chucked at that.

He took a large, dramatic swill of the wine of his own filigreed goblet before he turned to the knight, "Lyseni red, the sweetest wine in the world. Better even that Arbour gold you Westerosi are so proud of," he continued, when the knight still did not bestir himself, "I assure you, I would not poison you in my own home. We in Lys have heard of the devastation Myr has suffered, we would not dare anger the Seven Kingdoms and their dragons."

Ser Elyas acquiesced slightly at that, and took a swill of his wine. He was trying to hide it, but Lysandro knew he was delighted with it, as anyone who tasted Lyseni Red for the first time was. This particular bottle had been aged for almost four decades, and made from a vineyard he owned in the hinterlands.

"See, I told you. Lys may be famous for our poisonings, but you are a guest, not an enemy, and hopefully a potential ally should we come to a common cause," he told him, a smile plastered on his face. He beckoned the girl to pour them another cup, before she sat back down on her lap.

"May we get to the matters at hand, My Lord," the knight told him.

"Very well, what is it that House Targaryen empowered you to ask of Lys the Lovely?" Lysandro asked.

"House Targaryen asks for compensation due to the attacks that your city unjustly launched on Westeros during the war," he answered.

"What kind of compensation?"

"Ships to replace the ones you destroyed during the battle, wealth in gold, jewels and coin to replace all that was sacked from Driftmark and further wergild for the deaths of Prince Jacaerys and all the other Westerosi sailors who died that day due to the injustice you committed. Alongside that, the princesses have personally asked for the entirety of the wealth held by the Rogare Bank to be transferred to them, and the Valyrian Steel sword known as Truth to be surrendered to House Targaryen," he specified.

His smile curdled in his face, "Why particularly point out House Rogare? How has my house particularly offended your princesses?"

"You were the major financiers of the attack on Driftmark and Dragonstone during the war. Your bank was also front and centre in funding the occupation of The Stepstones and the raids committed into Westeros territory to take people of the Seven Kingdoms and sell them into slavery in the Free Cities, the Black Swan being an example," he told him.

"Perhaps we can come to a different arrangement with your Princesses. We may help each other, rather than seeking each other's destruction," Lysandro tried to ease the matter.

"Those are the terms the Princesses have set. They are irrefutable, My Lord. You've heard of the devastation caused in Myr and the Conquest of Tyrosh. We sent envoys to the two cities, and they foolishly refused us," the man replied, his countenance hard and unyielding. Lysandro saw that negotiation was hopeless with this man.

"Very well, you have the hospitality of the Rogare residence while I arrange my affairs and surrender the wealth your masters have asked for." Lysandro replied, with a false smile on his face.

Once the knight left the room, Lysandro had the girl once more, this time with the silk dress torn to shreds and her bent over the table. She squirmed from the roughness he treated her with, but she would get used to it. He needed to sooth his anger and regain his wits in order to think.

He knew there was no way he would be surrendering the wealth he had tirelessly worked for all these years. He knew that most of the rival families in the city, The Ormollens, Moraqos and Dagareons being chief among them, would delight in seeing him brought low. Even his friends and fiercest allies like the Pendaerys, Maar, Haens, Vhassyl and Orthys families would also turn their cloak once his house fell. It was simply the way things worked in Lys. There's no friend one had that would not sell them out for their own gain. This also meant that Elyas Scales could not present these ludicrous terms in front of the conclave for almost all of them would vote to have his house brought low to preserve their own families.

He made up his mind on how to deal with the Targaryens. Lys was known for poison. Should those two girls die, the dragon they had used to sack Myr and conquer Tyrosh would be rendered riderless. Perhaps he could claim the dragon. He knew the purity of his blood surely allowed it; no, no need for those fanciful notions. These girls were surrounded by unfamiliar faces in the newly conquered Tyrosh. Poisoning them should not be too difficult.

In celebration for his genius, Lysandro had the girl one more time, this time with her lying on the settee on her stomach and him on top of her, thrusting from behind. Serenei would bear a child of his own blood soon enough, with how ravenous he had become over her.

---

Tenth Moon, 131AC

"There was an envoy of House Targaryen who wished to meet with the conclave? Where did he go?" Tigaro Moraqos asked him angrily. He truly hated meetings with the Lyseni conclave. Even if the Hall of Magisters was truly resplendent with incredible works of art dotting the walls and fine sculptures bringing the room to life, the drawl of his fellow magisters and merchant princes spoiled all of it.

He fingered the bridge of his nose in exasperation, "As I said, he is enjoying the hospitality of my manse, as we deal with the Targaryens."

"How do you think you will deal with the Targaryens, Lysandro? Myr beheaded their envoy and got sacked as a result. Tyrosh endlessly delayed their response and got conquered. Bambarro Bazanne had a prince, captured during the battle we brought to the Targaryens last year, in his clutches and once the princesses got word of that, the entirety of the Bazanne family was obliterated and their heads staked to the spikes at their gates . What do you think will happen to Lys as a result of our endless dithering?" Tigaro countered, the veins on the sides of his temple throbbing.

"They are just little girls Tigaro," the fat Torreon Haen told the council, his bushy beard stained by the crumbs of the cake he was nibbling on.

"Little girls who have accomplished even what their father couldn't. They've humbled two Free Cities, and there's ramblings from the east that Volantis is mustering their forces to attack Lys once more," Silvario Pendaerys told them in his usual slick voice while passing a finger through his beard.

"Volantis?" Lysandro asked, surprised.

"Yes. They seek vengeance for the Battle of the Borderlands of 96AC, and they apparently desire to finally conquer Lys and parts of the Tyroshi hinterlands. Pentos is to invade Myr from the North as well and add the Myrish and the other part of the Tyroshi hinterlands to theirs. That is seemingly why the Targaryens limited their scourge to the cities and the cities alone. According to what I heard, they agreed with the Pentoshi and the Volantenes to leave the wealth and lands of the Disputed Lands undisturbed for when they conquered." Silvario continued.

His hands, unbidden, went to the sides of his own head to massage his nerves there. Fucking Volantenes. Fucking Targaryens. Fucking Pentoshi. Only three years ago their Triarchy was invincible, no armies in the Known World could stand against them, even the grand alliance most of the Free Cities had formed with Daemon Targaryen. It was all coming apart now. The Black Swan had been right. They should not have gotten involved in the war between the Targaryens. He sighed. Of course, he had taken precautions in case his scheme failed, and moved his youngest six children to his estates at the Heel of Essos for protection in case things failed and the Targaryens attacked Lys. The ships moving them and their belongings should be approaching their destination, if not yet there already.

"What about the Braavosi? They were never our friends, but why would they stand back as the Targaryens raze three Free Cities. Wouldn't they send their Faceless Men to get rid of them?" Tregar Ormollen asked the rest of the magisters around the table.

"The Targaryens treated with them as well, to avoid their ire. My source has it that they even recovered the three eggs that were stolen from Jaehaerys Targaryen, in exchange for a huge sum of money." Silvario told them.

"The Braavosi will doubtless be pleased with them freeing the slaves in Myr and Tyrosh as well,"Lysandro reasoned.

"So Lysandro, where is the envoy? Our only chance is to give them whatever they want so we can get them off our backs and prepare to deal with the Volantenes," a displeased Tigaro brought the subject back to that.

"There's no need to even listen to him. In the next few days, the news of the death of the Targaryens will reach us and we shall celebrate."

"Don't tell me. Somehow you have sent someone to poison them and you believe they will be successful." Tigaro responded.

"Why not? The man I employed is the best at what he does. He can inject the Tears of Lys into a peach and one would never suspect it as they bit into it."

"And if that doesn't work, or if your scheme is discovered? Should we pray to Panthera and cleave to her for mercy?" Matteno Orthys asked the room.

"No. Dagareon, our gonfaloniere, has been preparing the defences of his city since he heard that the Targaryens had based themselves in the Stepstones. We will still be able to hold them off," Lysandro tried to reassure the council, trying his best not to let the doubt plaguing him show on his voice or be heard in his voice.

"And how can we hope to defend ourselves against dragonfire? Are we so forgetful of Valyria that we are blind to the might that the Targaryens wield?" Tigaro asked them.

"Tigaro, if you are so terrified, then leave the city. You can go with your entire family and transfer your businesses somewhere else," Torreon Haen told him.

"Should we leave this city, we are most likely to be captured and sold into slavery, wherever we go. The price of slaves has increased exponentially due to the interference of the Targaryens. I tell you my fellow magisters, our only chance of survival is to give the Targaryens what they wish for and be done with it," Tigaro insisted.

There was no way Lysandro was going to allow that. Luckily, he knew that Tigaro could not touch him. His businesses were intrinsically linked with the Rogare bank and such was the case of most of these other men. He was their ruler in all but name somewhat, a sort of velvet tyranny that House Rogare had most of the nobles of Lys under. That was why his opinions carried so much weight in the conclave.

By the end of the meeting, they agreed to following the course of action he set out, as he knew he would. This time, he did not even wait for the palanquin, instead taking a horse from the stables, a silver stallion and dashing back to his residence. Tigaro's incessant whinings had him tired and frustrated, but a smile came to his face when he remembered the sweet succour between Serenei's legs would be waiting for him once he got home.

He was right when he found the girl on his bed, naked as he had told her to be once he returned. These past eight days had been blissful for him. He was like a green boy, constantly in need of her, finding himself sheathed inside her whenever he had a moment to spare. Even his brother had commented on it, his trip to Dorne delayed until this whole business was done. He had not been this smitten with a girl since Mysaria, before she somehow escaped his household and went on to make a name for herself in the Seven Kingdoms by becoming a paramour of a Targaryen prince, then a spy, before dying in a horrendous way; being whipped as she walked across King's Landing naked. At least that is what he'd heard.

He caressed Serenei's bottom as he lay languid kisses atop it. She had just bathed, judging from how prominent the scent of the lavender perfume she preferred to wear was on her skin. She tasted clean too. His excitement increased ever more because of it.

Things with her had somewhat progressed over the past days. She had gotten more expressive of her pleasure, which pleased him. The paralysing fear that she had of him finally seemed to have ceased, and because of it, their times together had grown a bit better. Still however, there was much more to go before she fully became receptive to him. She still never spoke unless spoken to, and she never once made a move to initiate the play between then. A few more days in his company would make her completely his, he surmised.

At first, Lysandro thought the roar that reached his ears as he finally found his release inside Serenei to be his, but when the roar sounded once again and the smell of smoke began to reach him, accompanied by screaming, he was immediately dissuaded from that notion.

Lysaro, his son, barged into his bedchamber, the fright clear on his face, only saying one word that made his blood run cold, "Dragon."

The roars seemed to be getting louder, meaning the dragon was getting nearer. He immediately unsheathed himself from Serenei to dress, his mind working fast. Had the Targaryens discovered his scheme? If so, how? He had sent a trusted agent to get rid of them, a failed recruit of the House of Black and White who was thrown out for using the powers of the Faceless Men on those he desired to get vengeance on, a notion forbidden by the order. Maybe the Targaryens had just gotten tired of waiting for the return of their envoy for the past fortnight. Speaking of the envoy, he could be used for leverage, should the worst come to worst.

"Get Ser Elyas!" he told one of the servants.

She ran towards the aforementioned knight's suite frantically, while he went to check for his children, making sure that they were all inside the house. Like in all things, he had prepared an escape against dragonfire by having subterranean chambers underneath his lavish palatial manse. He had them dug when the manse was built to store supplies and serve as a last point of defence should he be attacked. It would serve as protection until the Targaryens and their scourge had passed.

Ser Elyas Scales was brought to him soon afterwards, in chains, but that did not seem to bother him as he was all smiles, "I told you that if you waited too long you would invite your own destruction."

"Quiet," he snapped at the man, as he led him down into the underground vaults, after he took his eldest three sons Lysaro, Fredo and Drako, the sweet Serenei, a handful of other maids and some of the eunuch Unsullied. Of course, only those who were with him now knew of the underground section of the house; he had had the builders killed once they finished building it. Let the world burn around him, he would be safe.

He prayed to Yndros that his other children would be near or already settled in their estate in the hinterlands and that the Volantene would not dare to strike before he reunited with them, safe and alive. His prayers were dashed soon after when he heard a voice calling to him however, sweet and melodic even under the distress that could be clearly read from it.

"Father!"

Lysandro knew at once that it was his daughter Larra. What was she doing here?

"Father, they say they will kill all of us if you don't show yourself. They found us father, while we were out at sea, their fleet encountered ours and they took us all."

She did not need to say anything else. Without even stopping to think of his options, he grabbed the envoy by his doublet, lifted the trap door that led to the underground level and quickly climbed into the main house. He held the man roughly as he finally came upon his daughter. Tear tracks were staining her cheeks as she clutched her six nieces in fear. Behind him stood a tall, stern looking Westerosi, with one of the Targaryens alongside him. His palace had been invaded by more Westerosi men, and everything of worth was being taken out of it.

"You must be the magnificent Lysandro Rogare," the Targaryen girl, with hair even shorter than his told him with a sneer plastered on her face.

"I'll kill him, I swear to you. Let my family go or I'll kill him!" He tried to negotiate, even in his distress, holding his dagger up to the knight's throat.

Suddenly, his world was filled with pain. It took a few moments to know the source of it. There was an arrow jutting out of his leg. He did not even register when he let go of the knight, as he went to clutch the wounded leg, howling painfully, the dagger cluttering to the ground.

"No need for that, Your Magnificence, this will be over soon," the Targaryen girl said with such scorn that had him wondering why he had even deigned to take that styling for himself. It was an insult now, Lysandro knew. There was no magnificence to any of this. Nothing that could survive a dragon's jaws.

When his house was cleared of everything of value, he along with all his children and grandchildren were dragged outside. Absent-mindedly, he had revealed the location of the door that led to the subterranean vaults. He hoped the eunuch soldiers he had stationed there would fight, but he was proven wrong, once again. The Targaryen girl told them something he did not hear due to the pain, and they knelt to her, switching their allegiances.

Outside, he truly saw the magnitude of the destruction. The streets nearest to him were quiet, too quiet; the only thing visible was the dark grey of smoke and flames that could be seen in the distance. The only thing that could be heard was the waves of the Sunset Sea. He could see the vessels docked on his harbour being commandeered by Westerosi sailors, led by a young man with a sea green doublet that had the colouring of those of Old Valyria. A Velaryon.

"Please," Lysandro tried to beg one last time, and all he received from his troubles was a kick. He looked up to see his assailant, not bothering to hold back his surprise when he saw the lovely form of Serenei. She was naked when the attack began, this time she was draped in a black cloak with the red dragon of House Targaryen prominently displayed on it.

He was roughly made to stand up by the sweet girl. He did not have the strength to even fight that, immediately yielding to her. He howled once more once he straightened the wounded leg. The sight that greeted him upon rising however, made the pain in his leg seem like nothing. His family was all lined up in front of him; all twenty-five of his children, his six grandchildren, his brother, cousins, uncles and even the distant kin he housed on the other side of the city to avoid encountering their greedy selves. A huge, silver dragon was behind them, growling menacingly. The dragon was even larger than Prince Daemon's Caraxes that he had seen once or twice when he journeyed to the Stepstones all those years ago.

How had he found them? That question was answered when his hired catspaw made himself known from among his enemies.

"Are these all of them good ser?" the Targaryen girl asked him.

"Yes. All the men and women bearing the name Rogare," the man said. Even with all the gold he had showered upon the man over the years of doing business with him, he had betrayed him. That stung as well.

"Today is the day you die," Serenei said to him, in a voice more ruthless than he ever imagined she could possess.

Upon the command of the Targaryen girl, the dragon stalked forward, immediately unleashing a torrent of silver flames on his eldest, his pride, Lysaro, before devouring him in one bite. He screamed as he did, but Lysandro's screams lasted far longer than his son's brief ones. He was screaming still well past the time his lastborn child, the jewel of his heart, the joy of his life, his loveliest daughter Larra, named for the mother that had died birthing her, was bathed in silvery-white flames and devoured in a single gulp. He watched as the dragon took flight and turned the entirety of his palace into a burning ruin.

"He has gotten what he deserved, Serenei," the Targaryen girl said as her dragon landed beside her once his entire manse had been burned. He had not even noticed his dagger, now wielded by the girl, nicking the skin of his neck until he saw droplets of blood dripping down to the ground in front of him, "You are free and you will be free for the rest of your days. He will live for the rest of his days knowing the entirety of his wealth and bloodline is gone. It's time we leave." the Targaryen kept saying to the girl he'd lost himself in these past few days.

Whether the Targaryen girl intended for Serenei to let him go and leave him to his own fate, he would never know. Serenei resolutely stepped in front of him, and plunged his dagger deep into the centre of his head, right between his eyes. The force behind the motion made the cloak she had wrapped around herself fall away, and the last thing Lysandro Rogare saw before he died, was the beautiful form of the girl that had so enthralled him, the girl that was now his killer.

So ended the illustrious line of House Rogare, and so fell Lys the Lovely.

---

Author's Note:
Yes, the Serenei featured here is who would have been Shiera Seastar's mother in the Original Timeline.
Next chapter is '13. The Trials of Tyrosh', where we get a glimpse of how the conquest of Tyrosh is going for the twins. If you're impatient and would like to read that chapter, and the four more after it now, you can do so here.Tell me what you think of this chapter in the comments below or on Discord.

 

[Seyum]

Somewhere in Hell Daemon Targaryen has a moment of respite from his tortures and sheds a tear of joy.

 

[neyra]

Somewhere in Hell Daemon Targaryen has a moment of respite from his tortures and sheds a tear of joy.

Click to shrink...

He'd be so proud of his daughter.

 

[Jack-21]

The Braavosi will doubtless be pleased with them freeing the slaves in Myr and Tyrosh as well,"

Click to shrink...

That's what Braavos says but the people in charge only care about their interests.

Also taking multiple cities and destroying numerous houses? Aren't they afraid of faceless men.