WE DO NOT MAKE PEACE

Remember what I told you about the Vale? As it turned out, the new Lord Paramount, Harrold Arryn, wished for a clean sweep through, and in the process imprisoned my Master of Coin, Petyr Baelish. I wasn't happy, for the man was highly competent, but I couldn't really fault Arryn for mistrusting him. There was something sly about him… But I had more important matters to concern myself with.

On behalf of Edric Storm, who had fled to me and begged my help in getting back his infant son by Shireen, I issued a decree to make peace. I would accept Rogar Baratheon as Lord Paramount and make sure he grew up well, and I would not punish any of the men who had gone against his poor young mother Shireen – if they gave me Lord Alyn Estermont, who had cruelly walled her up alive. Fortunately, the lords of the Stormlands considered my offer a fair one and gave me Estermont as a nicely gift-wrapped present in chains. Before I could muster a court trial for his crimes, however, another plea for help reached me.

Or rather, it was several pleas and news that forced my hand. From Oldtown, painful cries of fear came due to Ironborn raiders plaguing the coast. From the Westerlands, too, came such news, along with the terrible fact that Lord Paramount Tyrion's wife, Loreza, the Sand Snake I had chosen for him, had been taken by Ironborn, raped, and killed. I was abhorred by such savagery, and angry at myself for having allowed myself a measure of happiness in King's Landing instead of subduing that spiteful old madman Balon Greyjoy immediately after making peace with the Starks. But I would rectify that mistake now to the best of my avail, I swore. I had my Master of Ships assemble a fleet to sail to Oldtown, while I rode an army towards Casterly Rock once more to board ships there and push into the heart of the beast – Pyke itself.

Apparently, this was a good choice, even though it cost a hefty sum. Both Lord Tyrion and Prince Doran of Dorne took it as a sign that I cared about my people, and most of all, the heinous murder of Loreza Sand, and pledged their eternal loyalty to me in return. And since I had given my new queen, Arya Stark, command of one of my armies, the North also supported me now. Together, we would solve the Ironborn problem once and for all.

We were besieging Pyke when painful news reached us – Prince Doran's beloved wife had died, and my former wife Margaery Tyrell had overreached herself and acted against her brother, Lord Paramount Willas, who was forced to imprison her in turn. I have never understood why people are so foolish most of the time. Still, I felt remorse, for in some part of my heart, I still loved Margaery. I couldn't dwell on the matter for very long, however.

The siege of Pyke dragged on even after we captured one of their best commanders, Victarion Greyjoy. Then we had news Balon and his son weren't here at all, but had rather appeared to raid the coast of the Reach once more. I wouldn't have it. I called off the siege and had my troops sail south, while I took my wife Arya, mounted Rhaegal, and rushed forward. On the eve before the battle, word reached me from the capital that Lord Alyn Estermont had fled captivity. This, as Viserys would have put it, "woke the dragon". I should have had him killed immediately when I had the chance! But now, I felt no longer inclined to any kind of mercy. So when we met the Ironborn in the field, I told Arya I would use Rhaegal against them, even if it was terribly brutal. But she only shrugged and said: "Valar morghulis."

So I gave the Greyjoys fire and blood. Both Balon and his son Theon were severely burned, but managed to flee back to Pyke, even evading my own fleet on the way. How they managed that will always puzzle me, but it didn't save them. I was livid now. Together with Arya, I flew back to Pyke, and this time, it was her who said the words, and Rhaegal obeyed. "Dracarys!" We stormed the burning castle afterwards, Arya and me and a handful of our soldiers whose ship had been nearby. We freed the Lord of the Arbor and one of his sons from the dungeons, then rounded up the Greyjoys and clapped them in irons. Theon, although wounded, tried to fight me and lost. It was over.

A few days later, still sitting in the smoking mess that once was Balon Greyjoy's castle, I judged the Lord Reaver for his crimes. Nobody dared to speak up when Tyrion Lannister demanded Balon be put to death as punishment. So he was judged by his king, and sentenced to be executed immediately. But the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword, my fierce Northern wife told me, and I was happy to indulge her. Only that my true weapon was not a sword, I told her. It was Rhaegal. And thus was Balon Greyjoy duly roasted and fed to my dragon.

It was cruel, but it felt right. And it seemed the gods were pleased I was acting more and more like the Targaryen I was, for they rewarded me not with one, but two boons. First, Lord Alyn Estermont was captured by the regent of little Rogar Baratheon and tried for murder and treason. After hearing what I had done to Balon Greyjoy, and knowing that I hated him even more fervently for what he had done to sweet Shireen, he accepted his fate and asked to be beheaded immediately, lest I'd return to turn him into a dragon's meal. I wish I had roasted him, but it felt sweet enough to know justice was done at last. But what felt even sweeter was the boon the gods bestowed upon my warrior queen, Arya. She was pregnant.

Many, including herself, were rightfully unsure about this situation. She'd never make a good mother, Arya told me, not like her own mother. But I reminded her that she had been kind to my two little sons, something which her own oh-so-perfect mother had never managed to do with her bastard brother, Jon Snow. That silenced her doubts, and a few months later, she successfully gave birth to my first daughter, whom I allowed my wife to name. Not surprisingly, Arya chose to name her northern-looking, Targaryen born daughter for one of her childhood heroes – Visenya.

For a while, once again, I was happy. My sister Daenerys, now Empress of Ghiscar, took the long voyage upon her to congratulate us in person. And she brought me the greatest gift ever – a dragon egg from her own beloved Drogon. Once my children were a little older, I should give it to one of them so they could prove true Targaryens and hatch it, Daenerys said with tears in her eyes. I understood her feeling – once, we had been the only dragons left alive, and the world had been ready to wipe us out. Now there were three real dragons and one egg, and I had three children that would carry on our name. We were no longer lost.