PROLOGUE
Aegys had cursed to himself when the stormsinger predicted a storm this very day. He still insisted to though, despite the warnings, to travel on today. Why? Because he hated this barren grassland? Despite the supposed pleasures of the cities upon the River Rhoyne, they never speak of the land in between. And only leagues away from the river, it was either hot sand or dull fields, expanding towards the horizon. It made Aegys homesick.
Homesick? You fool, do you know who you are?
"She's as much a maiden as I am Westerosi!" shouted the boy Gaerion, bellowing in light-pitched laughter. He bantered with one of the slave-boys, some joke which riled them like schoolboys. And he did it with that hideous mat on his chin. Aegys wrinkled his nose at the patchy hair which clinged to his face. Aegys always encouraged him to shave it, but sadly he insists to continue strutting the thing about. What an idiot a child is.
"By Visya's nipple if I fly in the damned rain." said Gaerion, who stared at the storm clouds in the distance.
"Careful Visyna's nipple does not strike you down, boy. The goddess is not one for crude jests," responded Aegys lowly. He did not wish for his antics this day.
Gaerion yawned, "Besides, Lady Palaerya will not be happy if we track mud in her estate, Lord Aegoryos." He tugged upon the reigns of the yellow beast bellow him, the dragon snorting bursts of flames from its nose.
Aegys scoffed, and as if on cue, his own dragon threw its own burst of fire into the air. Colored dark green and grey, it cackled and cracked in rapid sparks, and the smaller dragon recoiled back. Watching the smaller dragon's retreat made Aegys laugh, though not out loud. He was a dragonlord, an Aegoryos, and dragonlords never smiled in front of lessers.
This also amused Gaerion who laughed out, more like a giggle than a true, hardy laugh, "You know I am right, Lord Aegoryos," He wagged his finger at him, "she'll throw another set of coals on the slaves, get blood all over the carpets again." Gaerion proclaimed it matter-of-factly and doled Aegys' mood. He was right, and it made Aegys frown.
She will shriek and throw a tremendous fit, the shrilling hag. Aegys was not very fond of his wife.
"And her wrath is not the one's who you should fear, Velaryon." spat Aegys, which stuck itself upon the dried tiles below. The wind outside blew gently, and even with whirling storms leagues away, the sun shined bright over the Rhoyne. From the top of his estate, he could see the plethora of dark-skinned natives bathing, cleaning, and playing in the river.
The sight of the children playing amused him, but in a salt river? Bloody barbarians. Nothing of that sort would occur in Valyria.
Close to the river's shore laid the colony of Dorys Volar, mainly composed of small estates and a military garrison. Of course, it was nothing like the great Black Walls of Volantis, for in exchange for marble houses Dorys Volar had mudbrick huts filled of slave dung and flies. His estate was divided from the rest of the settlement, but it did not rid the disgusting smell.
In his own estate, servants toiled back and forth below, many of them newly-enslaved boys from Sar Mell, packing large bags and containers of supplies and carrying them back and forth. Using ropes and levies, the slaves tied the huge sacks upon each side of the two dragons. The sight of the pair surely terrified them, but they toiled on, not wanting the crack of any whip. Lessers know their place in this world.
Aegys' dragon was the largest, a great green lizard of over two hundred years, bearing shining scales which put even the youngest dragons to shame. Her name- for it was a she-dragon- was Maekynar, his ancestor of nearly five hundred years, and she was ridden by his father, his father before him, and so forth. From the day his great-grandfather hatched her during the Ghiscari Wars till his departure of this poor colony.
Gaerion's dragon was the smaller of the two, a very dull yellow worm, named Visengar, after the Goddess of Gold. Aegys would call it more of a wyvern than a true dragon, in truth.
They were flying to Volantis, then after a brief annual visit to his lovely wife, he would finally fly south to Valyria proper, the heartlands of the Freehold. He missed it and found to despise the bare desert near the Rhoyne when compared to the mountains and valleys of his homeland.
He could not help it, it is his home. Every true Valyrian yearns for home.
He had spent nearly twenty-five years of his life in these lands, from his first command against corsairs near Sarnoy to the fall of Chroyne, where the rebel prince Garin hanged from a gilded cage. But the Rhoynar Wars, from the Turtle Wars to the Spice Wars, have ended, and with peace finally in hand and a land fully secured, able to reap the bounties upon the Mountain Halls of Valyria. The water priests had bent the knee and he would return a hero. He could almost smell the volcanic smoke of his home.
"D-dragonlord." A slave boy nearly shouted beside the dragon Maekynar, breaking Aegys from his thoughts. His eyes trained upon the child, who shrunk in fear. Lessers know their status to the dragonlords of the Freehold.
"Speak up, boy!" Gaerion laughed wildly, "I hear the Viceroy is quite poor in hearing." The boy blushed wildly and Gaerion hooted loudly, but Aegys made no physical response. You are lucky I do not whip you.
"We... it is done, my lord." He spoke quiet and quickly, not making any eye contact. A lesser never looks a dragonlord in the eye.
He waved him off, the brown boy running as quick as he could away. How scared they were, mostly for the correct reasons. Lessers always shook in fear at the sight of a dragon, much less the sight of one in combat.
"You scared him senseless." Gaerion barked out another laugh, but it was silence by Aegys' gaze. Almost ten and eight, yet he still acted like a boy. Even his appearance, with his wild mane of unkempt hair and straggling beard, Gaerion Velaryon looked more like an urchin than a prestigious dragonlord.
You were young once.
Yes, but he did not like a hermit.
Aegys maintained himself proper, his face clean and his hair cut short, and himself dressed according to his station. His pauldrons, helm, and assortment of armor were Valyrian steel trimmed with gold and silver, his family's sigil of purple flames engraved into the breastplate. On his left shoulder bore the white dragon of the Freeholders, displaying membership in one of the principle dragonlord families.
Without a word, he spurred his dragon with a thrust of his spiked boot into Maekynar's side and her great extended out, covering the slaves and guards below. Like an eclipse, it blotched out the sun.
The draconic wings heaved up and down, to and for, propelling the dragon and its rider up in a great gush of air. Rags, leaves, and even some children struggled in its power, blowing objects about like the summer cyclones. He flew into the air, and Gaerion came shortly behind him. Both beasts roared, the slaves below scurrying out of the way in fear and protection. In only a few minutes, the city of Dorys Volar shrunk to appear like a model or child's toy. Hopefully, the last he would have to see such a sight.
The journey began quiet, as Gaerion's few attempts at conversation were rebutted by Aegys, and so he remained to himself. This allowed Aegys his thoughts, and often, his anxiety for what was to come. He had reached a truce with the water mages, demanding their fealty and service to Valyria. Their principle city Chroyne laid in ruins and the surviving cities- Ar Noy, Ny Sar, Lar Gen, among others- cowered in fear. Many of his peers called for these cities to be destroyed as well, but Aegys saw little use. Why destroy them when they will serve use?
When he was younger, perhaps, he would slam his shield in war cries for their destruction. But the harvests from Volantis were growing slim and the Rhoyne, despite its ugly land of grass and mud, still reaped food which could feed millions. The Rhoyne's shore bled fertile silt which bore fruits even alien to his own home. The Rhoyne was pacified now, and to Aegys, it was time to use it to its great advantage. Lesser they are, but the lesser are still useful.
In Ghis, they destroyed everything; from their harpy temples to its very land, salting and burning it till it became nothing but dust. Food was scarce, even in Valyria proper, and the Ghiscari repeatedly threw food revolts. Year prior, during their march on Chroyne, the slaves in Ghis had controlled cities from Meereen to Astapor. It was not till the Archon himself flew to the Slaver's Bay that the rebellion came to a screeching halt.
This had become a problem, an expensive problem. Even the short, ugly Vhaelgen, the Imperial Goldmaster, knew it, and he lacked as much monetary sense as a courtesan has innocence.
A shout, "Lord." Aegys barely heard, deep in his thoughts.
The conquest of the Rhoyne would solve these issues. Every lord he knew was thirsty for ambition and recognition, the staple deed which would guarantee their election as Archon. Would this give him the position? Myself? As Archon?
Aegys had thought of this before, many times, though it did not feel as real as it did here. Securing the bounties of the Rhoynar for generations, sphinxes in each captured city from Chroyne to Ny Sar, a legacy for himself and for his children. His daughters could run amuck in the obsidian halls of the great palaces of the capital, and his wife? That shrilling woman would finally content herself…
Aegys stifled a laugh. He knew that would not last long.
"Lord! LORD AEGYS!" Another shout, this time snapping Aegys out of his thoughts.
"What, what, boy?" He scowled at Gaerion across from his, putting his dragon to remain stationary in the air. Gaerion followed suit.
"Five riders, lord, from further down the Rhoyne." Below them, the Rhoyne flowed, filled to the brim from the spring rains. And behind them clear in the sky, thunder roared.
Five dragons, all modest size, flying towards their direction. Scouts? Aegys squinted, using his hand to shield his eyes from the sun. They bear the standard of the Archon. The Archon's personal sigil, the Great Volcano, flew upon each staff of the dragonriders, their own dragons donned in its black and white.
Aegys darted repeatedly between the five. Yet no Archon. He did not see the imperial standard nor the Archon's dragon, Beraxes. The Men of the Archon, or the Aemovaes Mareyar, were sworn to the Palace of the Archon, and could not leave unless with the Archon themselves. And as much as Aegys knew, the Archon was in Astapor.
He was, right?
"Lord?" Gaerion asked from Visengar, his hands clutched to the reigns.
"Lower yourself, we will meet them on the cliffs."
The two dragons swung below, landing and perching themselves onto the highest point of the left bank cliffs. Maekynar dwarfed Gaerion and his dragon nearly twofold, his scaly chest thrusted proudly forward. And on the tip of Aegys' spear, a banner bearing the Purple Flames of Aegoryos flittered in the wind.
"That is the Great Volcano!" Gaerion shouted happily, excited at such a prospect to see the Archon. Though he began to frown as he looked further, his hands covering himself from the blaring sun. "I do not see Beraxes, why are...? Lord?" In truth, Aegys knew not.
"No- keep quiet." He replied sharply, "Stay at attention, Gaerion, something is not right." His dragon gave a low grunt, as if to agree.
Why should he worry? He is the kin to the Archon, is he not?
Aegys studied the approaching riders, his hand gripping the sword on his belt. Three of them red, one blue, another black. All five smaller than his own Maekynar, but larger than Gaerion's yellow worm. Aegys was an Imperial Viceroy, governor of five provinces, and a scion of prestigious stock. He would always be at least warned of the Archon's coming arrival. And these dragons, they were not of the guards Aegys knew. Monstrous Margoros with Baelorys, Lady Alysae with Haefyre, the twins Viserys and Visenya with their two-headed Maegor… these were lower worms, not the Elder Dragons fit to guard the Archon of Valyria.
Soon the five came down in a swoop, landing upon the cliffs adjacent to Gaerion and himself. Each of the five dragons, in response to Maekynar's exposed chest, so too acting the game of draconic supremacy.
"Valar morghulis." Aegys called out, raising his right hand into the air.
"Aegys, I presume?" Is he mocking you? Did he not know who he was?
"Lord Aegys." He responded in tort. He was an Aegoryos damn it, and he would be spoke to in proper form. "You bear the arms of the Archon, yet you are not one of His guards. That is a capital offense."
The four other dragonriders puffed their chests and glared at Aegys, seemingly searching for blood. Though the man did not respond, continuing "We have orders to bring you to Volantis, Aegys, on orders of the Archon and the Council of the Freeholders." The rider, who was wearing a visor, raised it, exposing his purple eyes and sharp Valyrian features.
On orders of the Archon and the council...? For once in a long time, Aegys laughed aloud. He roared, leaning his head back and nearly falling from his dragon. "You think, with your shameful worms for steeds, that you command the authority of the Archon?"
"Think? Yes, Aegys, I do very much think I do." And with that, the rider had in a golden scroll, which unraveled in the wind. In Valyrian custom, mandates of the Archon were written in huge scrolls, scribed in the High Tongue. Many times, it required more than one scroll to fit the signature of the Archon, depending upon who ruled.
As it unraveled and exposed itself to the world, Aegys recognized the fifty-line signature of the Archon, the seal of the Great Volcano below inscribed in gold and silver. What? No… what? This…
He was the kin of the Archon!
Aegys' face drooped, and even Gaerion aside him slumped his shoulders. The rider continued, "Lord Daemonos Targaryos, Imperial Viceroy and other titles." The one known as Daemonos wagged his hand about as he spoke, as if casually, "Unless you require proof of such too, Aegys?"
Aegys did not- could not- respond, his mind racing. It made no sense, he had just reached peace! On the Archons orders!
This is some ploy, a trick. "This… a mista-" Aegys was cut off.
The dragon closest to him, a blue worm with a female rider, lashed out in a bite and slash with rapid speed. It had taken Aegys off-guard and made Maekynar lurch back in surprise, claws digging into her back right leg. Maekynar swung her tail, batting back the smaller rider and her dragon with great force.
The three others, excluding Daemon, went in for the attack as well. Tugging back with his reigns, Aegys met them, shouting "DRACARYS!" as green flames enveloped the advancing trio. Gaerion to his side has begun to take off, and soon Aegys joined him. Maekynar's huge, green wings stretched out, hovering away from the approaching attacks with surprising speed. Maekynar may be old, but he has not lost his speed.
Both Gaerion and Aegys receded into the skies, though the dragons remained in close pursuit. He shouted at Gaerion to follow him, but the dragons below quickly interrupted. The blue dragon had grabbed upon Visengar, and Gaerion pulled his reigns upon to counter the larger dragon's attack. The two red and black dragons continued their assault upon Aegys, as his dragon began to dance in response to their strikes.
Claw with claw and bite with bite, the three worms barraged Maekynar and her rider relentlessly, yet Maekynar bore superior sizes to these three wyverns. He had successfully knocked one dragon back to the ground with a claw and a pierce of his spear. He soon threw it aside for his sword, made of Valyrian steel, and it gleamed in the Rhoynish sun. Another came close to swiping Aegys off his very dragon, maintained only by the stirrups of his saddle.
As the battle raged, Aegys' thoughts fluttered away to mere instinct, his dragon and himself acting as one. With each dodge he met them with his own attack, and each burst of fire he met with his own. The sky soon became thick in smoke from dragonfire, his voice becoming horse from yelling out the Valaryian words. He swung his sword viciously upon each attack, the Valyrian steel glowing in the flames surrounding them.
It was the snap of one of the red dragon's neck which awoke Aegys from his instinctual mindset, the fat rider falling below. The rider crashed upon the rocks, his body a bloody mess. The dragon was thrown aside, Maekynar's teeth red with blood.
"DRAC-…" That voice… it was Gaerion.
Aegys whipped around, watching the boy's dragon be tugged down and thrown aside, Visengar being flung into the cliff side below. Aegys' eyes widened, shouting out below to the crumbling pair.
"GAERION!" He cried out as the blue dragon collided into the larger Maekynar, slashing away with its claws upon the green behemoth's chest. It did not take long for Maekynar to make an attack of her own, digging his sharp digits deep into the combatant worm's neck. Soon, it fell like a rag doll below, its rider screaming out before falling below.
Yet two dragons came from either side and Aegys pulled back retreating higher and farther down the river. While Maekynar was no slow being, it would not be able to maintain a leading role in this chase for long.
He whipped the dragon apart to face the approaching dragons head-on, still gaining height as he flew higher. The Targaryen cur had also now taken flight, joining the fellow dragons. Around him, clouds began to haze his vision as he ascended even further up.
Aegys flew above the low-bearing clouds, below looking like a field of new snow. He caught his breath, awaiting to swoop in a crushing attack. His hands were sweaty, though he gripped his sword even tighter. Who in Gods were these curs? Assassins?
Whoever they were, they are lessers. And lessers have no place in fighting him.
Beads of sweat came down Aegys' brow, and his dragon whined. He looked down, her left-side cut and bloodied. Damnations… He felt his own left side, and despite it not being ever touched, it was enflamed in intense pain. He gritted his teeth and held guard.
The attack he expected never came, and he waited there for what seemed like hours, days, then years, scanning the white field around him like a hawk searching for prey. Yet he found nothing. He cursed, the fools not having followed him up as he thought. Who were these buffoons?
A betrayal? From who? The politics of the Freehold could be dangerous, yes, but Aegys was no active politician. He was a general, a warrior, and he had not set foot into the volcanic halls of the capital for decades. Not since he married his wife, Palaerya, all those years ago. How sweet she was then, cooing at his every touch, and remembered even writing poetry for the hag. Then he moved her to Volantis and she cried and wailed and cursed him repeatedly.
By the Gods, will you truly make your final thoughts about her?
You fool, you are not dead.
Aegys was not dead yet, and he would not die here. He closed his eyes. He needed to think. Then he heard the beat of wings, louder than the others he faced. It was not Maekynar.
No, no, it was not the other three below. The beats of the wings took longer, sounding more like bangs than wisps of wings. An Elder Dragon? Perhaps one of the Archon's guards? This news relieved him.
Suddenly, a black figure erupted from the white clouds below, the black wings of Haefyre stretching before the green Maekynar, blotching the sun. He had recoiled back, his dragon with him, and he maintained distance. The huge dragon, even greater than his own, loomed before him, and Aegys recognized the sight: The Lady Alysae the Hellfire upon her black goliath.
Her dragon, Haefyre, was as black as the Summer Islanders, its red eyes the only break in the pattern of dark. Like the other three dragons which pursued Aegys, it too had the arms of the Archon upon its chest, displayed proudly to the world. Aegys was almost taken aback in awe of the sight.
He tried to call out, but it was for naught. The huge worm surged forward in attack, and the injured Maekynar failed to dodge. The dragon's long, dark claws cut through Maekynar's chest like butter. Aegys felt like his chest was cut open.
The three dragons from below soon joined, biting and grabbing ahold of Maekynar and tearing her apart. The green dragon screamed and shrieked in pain, with Aegys unable to counter in any means. He felt himself be torn apart, as the dragon-mounted Daemonos swooped his sword upon Aegys. He blocked with his own, though it came to flying from his hand come the next pass.
From the claws of the four dragons, his saddle had come unbound from Maekynar's mass and Aegys could not hold on, falling from the clouds. He tumbled down above the wide gap of the river. The last thing he saw was Maekynar's head being torn from its neck by the demon Haefyre, as his bones shattered upon the hitting the waters of the River Rhoyne.
[Something I am doing for fun, please be as critical as possible. I wanna better my writing. All chapters subject to change.]