A/N: How you all doing? Going through some more stuff recently, but for my American readers, I hope you have a good Thanksgiving!
Lord Royce Caron rode on his horse alongside his personal guard and the rest of the middle guard as they advanced up the kingsroad and had just entered the kingswood. Their goal: to take the seat of House Wendwater, which sat on the confluence of the river that it assumed its name after and the stream that joined into the main waterway. The kingsroad passed by that convergence and so, anyone looking to move on King's Landing had to pass there.
At the same time, Lord Caron knew that the enemy were also aware of this fact and would no doubt exploit it to their advantage. With the capital in the enemy's hand, the situation for those under the banner of Aegon the Second of His Name was turning from bad to worse with each day that passed.
The Lord of Nightsong was given command of over nine thousand men, ranging from houses such as the Swanns, Mertyns', Morrigens, Wyldes, Peaseburys, Staedmons, Penroses, Cafferens, and especially those sworn to the Carons. Although small for its size, it was a force that was representative of all of the stormlander houses. All were well-armed, led by men who had experience fighting against the Dornishmen as they had for over a thousand years, and all highly loyal to the Lord of Storm's End, who in turn was loyal to the King Aegon and his Prince Regent Aemond Targaryen.
I have to admit that Lord Borros being able to secure a betrothal between Lady Floris and the One-Eyed prince was quite clever for someone who can't even read. But I worry about the former squire of the Rogue Prince more, especially due to his… anger.
Lord Caron couldn't claim intimate knowledge of what went one between the Rogue Prince and the One-Eyed prince, but from their reputations, they seem quite similar to each other. The Rogue Prince was not known for his mercy, and he surely must've left quite an impression on the young boy before Criston Cole took over his training. Don't know if the spawn of a steward is proper enough to train a prince of House Targaryen.
Most worrisome, Aemond seemed quite… detached when he ordered Lord Caron to march on the Wendwater. "Take your men and attack the enemy. Press the initiative, Lord Royce," he said with such nonchalance.
"With respect, Your Grace, I don't believe it's that simple," Lord Caron tried to reason with him. "We have to conduct planning, send scouts, ascertain the enemy's strength."
"You questioning my orders, Lord Caron?" Aemond took offense at the Lord of Nightsong dissenting with him.
He may be the Regent, but he's just another green boy who doesn't understand proper battle planning. But he dared not make those thoughts known, as Aemond was right in front of Vhagar, who was looking for any signs of his rider's growing displeasure.
"No, Your Grace. I will see your orders carried out," Lord Caron feared for his life.
"Good. Either you come back in triumph… or don't."
Lord Caron sighed, since he had a sense that things would become much worse if they simply advanced on the Wendwater without proper preparation despite the motivation and equipment of the men he commanded at the present. What is my goodson thinking? he thought of Lord Borros, who was married to his daughter Elenda.
Adding to his difficulties was the absence of his good friend, the Lord of Stonehelm. Lord Swann chose to have his son and heir Lord Casper act on his behalf, as he needed to remain at his keep in case the Dornish try to attack again. It's always good to have a friend close in times such as these. And we have to move fast to keep the situation from getting worse, Lord Caron thought.
Suddenly, the Lord of Nightsong heard yelling where the advance guard of the army would be. What's going on?
A rider, bearing the sigil of House Wylde, rode up to Lord Caron. "My lord, Lord Wylde's men are engaged with the enemy."
There were murmurings among the soldiers, all of them not expecting to fight the enemy until much later. "What is the size of the enemy force?"
"Lord Wylde estimates at least five thousand men. He was able to see the banners of Karstark, Royce, Bolton, and Redfort among others," the rider answered.
Seven hells. Four of the major houses of the North and the Vale, Lord Caron thought quickly. He was especially nervous about the Boltons, as their reputation was known even in the Dornish Marches.
"Ride back to Lord Wylde and tell him to hold his ground. We'll join him momentarily," Lord Caron ordered the rider before he galloped off. Turning to the middle guard, he shouted, "Formations! Prepare for combat!"
The men-at-arms raised their shields, the common footmen readied their pikes, and the knights dismounted their horses and unsheathed their blades, as fighting on horseback was not ideal when it came to combat amongst the trees.
As for Lord Caron, he might have been past his prime, but he would be damned before his men saw him as someone who couldn't fight. Dismounting his horse, he adjusted his helm and drew his sword from his scabbard as he walked amongst the formations, looking each of them to make certain that their minds were alert.
He continued to hear the fighting near the front, and then screams that almost sounded feral-like. Lord Wylde must be having it difficult there. He must hold while we prepare to move forward.
But before he could say, "Forward march," he caught leaves rustling on the flanks of his middle formations. From his experiences at Nightsong, he knew that those rustles could only be made by man and not beast, instantly causing alarm in his mind as those sounds were happening in a forest and thus blinding to them to where their foes were.
Without warning, there were yells coming from all over the flanks, causing Lord Caron's troops to glance around nervously. Some of the men were wavering from their places in the formations, with only the serjeants forcing them back to their places. "What kind of men are we fighting here?" Lord Caron whispered to himself as quietly as possible.
Looking back to the north, he saw men bearing the sigil of House Wylde among others come rushing towards the middle guard. What's going on here? His questions were answered when he looked upon the armored form of Lord Wylde, his armor dented and bloodied as he struggled to maintain his hold on his horse.
"My Lord Wylde, why are you here?" Lord Caron looked up to him.
"We fought as best as we could, but they charged at us with armored knights and northern cavalry. They also took down many of our own with pikes and arrows already, so we couldn't hold them," Lord Wylde explained frantically.
"Damn!" Lord Caron cursed. "Reform your formations and stand guard."
"My Lord Caron," Casper Swann walked up to him. "Shouldn't we advance forward? We have to stop the enemy from holding the initiative."
"Move forward? In the middle forest and what happened to Lord Wylde?" Lord Caron asked rhetorically as he gestured to the yells that were continuing to be bellowed out. "We have to hold our positions here and wait for them to come to us. Otherwise—"
He heard one of his troops scream out, and looked on in shock as he fell down, with an arrow lodged in his throat. More arrows were released, peppering the formation and felling more of his troops in the process.
"Take cover!" Lord Caron shouted, keeping his head down to avoid the arrows while Lord Wylde and Casper Swann did the same. "Keep your shields up! Keep formations!"
If we can just hold, they'll be forced to fight us. If they fight us, we might have a chance since we have armor and steel weapons, Lord Caron hoped.
Sure enough, the stream of arrows ceased, and a brief lull held over the anxious stormlanders, who kept their pikes, swords, and shields at the ready. From how the Dornishmen fought, there was usually a pause before the great clash. The Lord of Nightsong tightened his hands on the hilt of his sword while trying to control his breathing, as a lack of it would cause too much fear to enter his mind and thus jeopardize his ability to command. I can't have that now.
"Charge!" a voice from the trees cried out as hundreds of men, all clad in northern armor and cloaks, emerged from the tree line and collided into the shielded formations. Due to their initial momentum, they were able to push some of the shield-wielding stormlanders with such force as to disrupt the formations temporarily.
Glancing quickly at the northmen, he couldn't see their sigils. But judging from how they dressed, he could tell that they were not traditional northern forces. And from how small some of them looked, he surmised that they were crannogmen, men from the swamps of the Neck in the North, guardians of the great fortress of Moat Cailin among their duties.
Great, we're dealing with those who know how to fight in terrain such as this.
Seeing a crannogman charge up to him with a spear in hand, Lord Caron parried the spear before striking his forehead with the hilt of his sword and running him through. He also saw a northerner run towards him, him wielding an ancient iron sword and a dirty fur cloak. Unlike the crannogman, the northman was able to last longer with the Lord of Nightsong, swinging hard as the elderly Lord Caron struggled to hold him back.
The northman saw an opening after Lord Caron parried an upward strike, which he used to push against him with his shoulder and knocking him to the ground. Before the northman could get the drop on him, he was stabbed in the back by Casper Swann, who pushed the dead northerner away and helped up his father's friend.
"You all right, my lord?" Casper Swann asked with concern.
"Just keep fighting, boy," the Lord of Nightsong dismissed. "I'll be all right."
Despite the onslaught from the crannogmen and other northmen attacking their flanks, with Lord Caron himself having to survive more close encounters as he turned around constantly to avoid sneak attacks, the formations held well.
"Stay in your positions, men!" he called out. Since the crannogmen and northmen that were attacking them had lighter weapons and armor, there was a temptation amongst some of the troops to push forward using their heavier weight. However, as they were in forest, they couldn't afford to be separated. "Keep together!"
After an extended period of close combat, he could see that the crannogmen and northmen were about to get exhausted. They should know that northerners are not meant to survive this far from their frozen wasteland, Lord Caron thought confidently.
But before he could celebrate and start to press his advantage, a runner approached him. "My lord, the northern and Vale cavalry have come! They're charging at the remains of our advance guard!"
Eyes widening, Lord Caron looked back north. Sure enough, he could see the banners of the houses of Karstark, Royce, Redfort, and Bolton crashing into the front. As most of the formations were engaged on the flanks, the advance guard didn't have the backup to withstand the northern and Vale mounted forces as they charged.
That was when Lord Caron figured it out. So, they attacked us from the flanks and getting us distracted while their initial attack continued. And given especially the crannogmen's ability to fight in inhospitable areas, it was a good plan, whoever in command formed it.
Lord Royce was about to issue another order to reform their lines when he felt an arrow pierce into his side. Crying out in pain, he looked to his left and saw that the arrow had gotten into one of the vulnerable parts of his armor, the unprotected armpit, and was lodged between his ribs and near his lung. Collapsing onto the ground, Casper Swann knelt down and put his body on him to protect his father's friend.
"Anyone! Help me with Lord Caron!" the heir to Stonehelm pleaded, with two stormlander pikemen obliging. They got him back onto his horse, which was unfortunately noticed by some of the serjeants and other commanders.
Seeing their appointed leader wounded and being led away to safety, and with northern cavalry approaching them while the arrow volleys resumed, the stormlanders began to march backwards towards the southern bank of the Wendwater.
Lord Caron then felt difficulty breathing while his chest felt sore. He kept his head down on his horse, with Casper Swann escorting him while getting the army to withdraw in good order. As they fell back to the Wendwater, they continued to hear northern war cries and hear the gallops of northern and Vale horses gaining on them and cutting down those unlucky to straggle behind.
"We're almost there, Lord Royce. Just hold on," Casper Swann implored. Seeing his father's friend struggling, he pointed to the nearing river. "Look! We just need to get on the southern bank, and we'll be all right."
Lord Caron grabbed the breastplate of the heir to Stonehelm. "If I die, Lord Casper, you take command. Lead them to Bronzegate and tell Lord Borros what happened."
"Don't say that," Lord Casper didn't want to accept it. "We just need to go a little further."
"Just say you heard me!" Lord Caron barked.
"I heard you. Now, come on."
As Lord Casper said, they were soon on the southern bank of the Wendwater. However, their breather was cut very short, as more northmen emerged from the treeline. They were bearing the sigil of House Dustin and an old man armed with a mace and a shield while blowing on his war horn. From what he remembered from how the Lannisters were defeated, he was facing Roderick Dustin, the old Lord of Barrowton whose age did little to diminish his lethality in battle.
Seeing their commander in trouble, dozens of stormlanders met their new adversaries head on, but despite their armor and superior weapons, they struggled under the ferocity of the men who fought for Lord Dustin.
Lord Caron saw Lord Dustin strike a man across his face with his shield, causing blood to spill out of his mouth before pushing him down into the water and caving his face in with his mace. He used his shield to strike at another man, causing him to fall over and crushing his head with the same shield.
More of the northmen, especially the crannogmen, poured through the trees and rushed into the river, stabbing or striking any stormlander they could see. As they were fighting within the Wendwater and on both of its banks, the formations had collapsed and thus turning the withdrawal into an all-out fight. But the stormlanders had panicked and without their commander to direct them, they slowly began to crack under the pressure. With the northern cavalry coming from the north, it was only a matter of time before they would be mopped up.
Seeing the battle turn into a bloodbath for his men, Lord Caron could only think of one solution. "Casper, get out of here!"
"No, my lord! We have to go together!"
"Do as I say, boy! Go to Bronzegate and—"
Just before he could finish his final command, a roar pierced through the chaos of the battle. Hearing loud flapping of wings and seeing a shadow past through them, Lord Caron looked up and saw a large dragon bearing down on them. Judging from its size, he could only surmise on which dragon was it. "Vhagar…" he whispered in fear of Visenya's mount.
Without warning, Vhagar unleashed her flames and bathing northman, Valeman, and stormlander alike in fire. Screams replaced war cries as the once pristine Wendwater was soon stained with the touch of blood and charred flesh.
Seeing Vhagar turning around to make another pass, he slapped the behind of Casper's horse, sending it and its rider towards the southern bank and a larger chance of survival. From how his lung was filling with blood and seeing the battle turn against him, there was only one way that this would end for the Lord of Nightsong. He closed his eyes as Vhagar opened her mouth and flames could be seen coming from her throat.
I have failed you, goodson, were his last thoughts as the last feeling he felt was the touch of fire on his skin.
Aemond sat in the hall of Bronzegate, looking upon the various commanders whose armors were blackened by the soot from the fire unleashed by Vhagar. Well, at least that were able to make it out alive.
As he was the Prince Regent for Aegon, he sat where Lord Buckler would usually sit and Lord Borros Baratheon if he had ever made his progresses to the lords sworn to Storm's End. But all of them were strangely quiet even though they had much to discuss regarding the war.
"Why so silent, my lords?" Aemond began. "There is still much to be done and we have to press our advantage straight to King's Landing now." He was met with more silence, which started to increasingly irritate him. "We have succeeded today, my lords. The northmen and Valemen have been repulsed and our lines in the kingswood are secured from the enemy. We must advance while they are still weak."
The lords continued to stare into the air, clearly reeling from what he had done while flying on Vhagar's back. Don't they realize that had I not fly in and burned the woods with some of our troops still in, it would have been a clear defeat?
Aemond stood up from his seat, losing his patience at the quietness of the hall. He paced around the hall, staring at each of the lords' in their eyes in order to get their attention. "Lord Jason Lannister is an example that you should all follow. He died for the king and that is death all of us can hope for. He exerted himself to the best of his abilities, which we all should do in these trying times. Ormund Hightower exerted himself, for it was the victory at Honeywine that ensured that the Reach was in a united front against Rhaenyra, the Rogue Prince, and the traitors. My own brother, Daeron the Daring, exerted himself and has kept himself busy, the results including him bringing thousands of much-needed reinforcements from the westerlands to reinforce our positions at Highgarden. Everyone is doing what they should be doing, which I sadly cannot say for you lot."
Aemond stopped in front of Lord Casper Swann, heir to Stonehelm and acting on his father's behalf. "Now, I won't blame you all for the mistakes made by Lord Caron, who thought that a simple charge into the seat of the Wendwaters, which was located on a hill covered with trees and easily defensible even with a hundred men. Not only that, he thought it wise to advance up on the kingsroad, which is a route that our enemies also know about and would have likely prepared ambush points along the way. The casualties that we sustained from the battle is all on Lord Caron," he emphasized, causing looks of displeasure to form on the surviving lords' faces at the Prince Regent slandering the Lord of Nightsong.
"Ah, so you are paying attention to my words," Aemond remarked darkly. "While the blame rests with Lord Caron, may the gods rest his soul, all of you are at fault equally. You should have told Lord Caron that advancing up on the kingsroad was a bad idea and you should have dissuaded him from following such a foolish plan. You should have also expected that the forests would have hidden the northmen and the Valemen's positions, which they exploited to attack you from the sides. You should have gotten into formation and not cause chaos amongst the ranks. If that had happened, the battle would have gone differently!"
But Aemond was not done reaming the lords out. "I have never seen a more vivid example of incompetence in our ranks. Not only have you allowed the enemy to advance, you have allowed them to see weakness! If any of you don't understand the consequences of doing so, allow me to illuminate you all on just who fights for Rhaenyra. Take Cregan Stark for example. He overthrew his own uncle and imprisoned his cousins when they threatened his claim on Winterfell. He was willing to go against his family to protect what was his, but the only reason why he would jump at that chance was because he saw weakness in his uncle. And I don't think I need to remind you all on what the Rogue Prince does whenever he sees vulnerability in his foes, which at this moment include us! We might have stopped them today, but they will fight tomorrow. If we lose, you will all suffer the consequences of being on the losing side. If we win, then the king himself shall reward you all. The only way to not lose is for us to deliberate our next course of action."
The lords continued to keep their mouths shut, but they were evidently not pleased at how Aemond was putting down their deeds in such a negative fashion.
"Well, speak! Any suggestions on how we can recover from today and secure victory in the days to come?" Aemond urged them.
Lord Casper Swann stepped forward. "You wish for us to talk, Your Grace? Fine. I'll begin by saying the things that must be said. And that is… I protest your denigrations of us."
Aemond blinked in anger. "What did you say?"
"Lord Caron, my father's closest friend, knew about war and how to conduct himself in combat, Your Grace. There were no other ways for him to advance towards the Wendwater's seat without taking the kingsroad. I'll admit that we had poor information on the enemy's positions, and we didn't expect to be surrounded on three sides. However, we all fought to the best of our abilities and any normal commander couldn't have within reason made us to persist in our attack without suffering heavier casualties and thus damaging your bannermen's abilities to wage war," Lord Casper defended the departed Lord Caron.
"You had the larger army and the better-equipped troops, Lord Casper. How can you reconcile those facts with what just happened today?" Aemond crossed his arms.
"You ever been in an ambush, Your Grace? It is chaotic and there is no telling if the man next to you or even your own person will be able to escape with their lives, because the enemy already has an advantage from surprise," Lord Casper continued. "But allow me to ask this, Your Grace. If you so cared about the result, then why did you burn your own troops along with the enemies with that dragon of yours?"
There were murmurs among the commanders, who also shared the same thoughts. "Would you rather have suffered a complete defeat or have some of your men sacrificed so that the battle would have been a draw?" Aemond asked.
"Your Grace, that kind of attitude is not beneficial to our struggle to end this war on a favorable term," Lord Casper responded.
"Be mindful of your tone, Lord Casper. I am the Prince Regent and you should continue to address me as your better," Aemond scolded him.
Casper Swann grounded his teeth before exhaling slowly but angrily through his nostrils. "Many of our men were burned into nothing because of your dragon, Your Grace. Yes, you might have prevented a total defeat. But you did as much as damage as the northmen and the Valemen would have done had the battle continued. You killed the enemy, Your Grace, but you also showed that you were willing to kill your own. I am sure that I speak for all the good men here when I ask you on your fitness to command us."
"Hear, hear!" a Wylde man concurred, followed by the other stormlander lords.
Such insolence! Aemong wanted nothing more than to unsheathe his sword and lob off Casper's head for such impudence, but he controlled himself since that would make the situation more complicated and more troublesome for him.
"Sacrifices must be made in war, Lord Casper," Aemond glowered at him. "Surely, you understand that, given your family's history in the Marches."
"And what would you know of sacrifice, Your Grace? You never been in battle before this war started and you only had a steward to train you on the ways of the blade," Lord Casper derided him. "Sometimes, I wonder if you are the right man to lead us while we struggle for your older brother's rightful claim to the Iron Throne."
Aemond tightened his fists, close to losing his temper at how impertinent the heir to Stonehelm was acting. "Lord Cole is not a steward. He is the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and the Hand of the King. You will treat him with the respect that he deserves." By talking about Criston Cole's heritage as a steward for Blackhaven, Lord Swann was implying that Aemond had learned from a very bad source when it came to sword fighting and tactics, which was not true for the Prince Regent.
"He is an upstart who only has his positions because no one else would fill them," Casper just couldn't stop.
"Lord Swann, I believe that is quite enough," warned Borros Baratheon.
"We all know of the Rogue Prince's reputation, but at least he has his deeds to fall back on. What do you have, Your Grace?" Casper Swann's nose was almost close with Aemond's, which was one step too many for him. He doesn't know how to stop talking and he doesn't know who he is addressing. Time to show him a lesson.
Aemond threw a cross at Casper Swann's left cheek, sending him hurling onto the stone floor. He then kicked him hard in the belly, causing him to cough violently. Finally, he drew his sword from his scabbard and looked as if he would swing downward on his neck.
"Your Grace!" Borros tried to stop him. However, to the relief of everyone present, Aemond's blade landed just in front of the Stonehelm heir's nose, but a few inches closer would have meant his nose being severed.
"Speak to me like that again, and I will have you killed for insubordination. Understood?!" Aemond shouted, which Casper responded with by nodding and standing up while rubbing his belly. "Anyone else have anything to say on how we can win this war?" he looked around.
"Since you have so much to offer us in terms of an opinion given how you pointed out our faults, Your Grace," Lord Morrigen of Crow's Nest. "Do you have any recommendations on how we can proceed forward?"
"Thank you for asking that, Lord Morrigen. Finally, a man who asked the right question," Aemond exclaimed. "My recommendation would be to regroup all of your men and await word from our allies in the Reach. We have forces at Highgarden ready to march up the rose road to strike at King's Landing. Once they have begun the march, all of you will attack in the kingswood again, resulting in a two-pronged attack. The northmen and Valemen might be impressive regarding their battle abilities, but they can't hope to match our numbers and the dragons on our side. That will be our chance and that will be the way we will retake the capital and destroy the main forces sworn to Rhaenyra."
"What about assaulting the city from the Blackwater Bay, Your Grace?" Lord Estermont asked. "Surely, with the Redwynes with us, we can contemplate such an action."
"Not as long as the Sea Snake is still on the high seas can we launch a sea assault," Aemond stated. "Numbers are irrelevant, especially with him and the dragons that have sided with Rhaenyra. But once the Redwynes have sailed their fleet and have united with the Triarchy's, then we'll consider it. As of now, I have sent a commissioner to the Triarchy so that we might take possession of the usurper's son, little Viserys. If we have him, it'll offset the advantages that the enemy currently have with our queen and princess in their captivity."
The lords and commanders nodded, seeing the sense behind such actions, but were still upset about Aemond burning them with Vhagar.
"If that is all of the business that we will discuss, then I adjourn this meeting," Borros Baratheon called out before dismissing his bannermen. Once they've left, it was just him and Aemond in the hall.
"Although I will never dissent with you in public, Your Grace, in this case, Casper Swann has a point. These are my bannermen, sworn to me and to Storm's End, and I don't appreciate you using them so recklessly," Borros started.
"And you say that, given how many times you have clashed with the Dornishmen?" Aemond was surprised.
"We are not talking about experience, because this has nothing to do with that. You are not showing them a good example of leadership and it is these kinds of moments that might make men think twice about fighting with us," Borros explained.
Aemond scoffed. "Is this the Borros Baratheon that I had met when me and my bastard nephew Lucerys tried to win you over? I thought that you'd be more combative than this."
"I might be inclined to use the sword than my father Boremund was, but even I know how to take care of your men. If you don't treat them well, they will abandon you," Borros cautioned.
"Then they can burn also," Aemond dismissed. "Less cowardly and incompetent lords to deal with."
"There is a difference between incompetence done intentionally and actions done naturally."
Aemond blinked, confused. "What?"
"I knew Lord Caron. He was my goodbrother and he was merely trying to do his duties. He would never purposely put his troops at risk. Also, we're dealing with northmen, who don't exactly play by the rules," the Lord of Storm's End pointed out.
"And why should that be of any concern? Northern barbarians are inconsequential, even though I did say a few words on Cregan Stark," Aemond shrugged. "But regarding their forces, they must be reconstituted and ready to march soon. They can make up for their mistakes by winning the next time."
Borros sighed, not seeing any chance to persuade the Prince Regent otherwise on the conduct of his bannermen at the Wendwater. "Your Grace, about your betrothal to my daughter—"
"Yes, yes," Aemond knew what he was going to say. "I plan on honoring that agreement, but only after this war is done."
"I was hoping that you can conduct the ceremony as soon as possible. Floris needs a husband soon and there is no one better to suit her than a prince of House Targaryen," Borros urged.
Aemond sighed. Floris Baratheon was the youngest of the Four Storms, named because they constantly bickered with one another and only stopped because of their lord father. Floris was considered to be the prettiest of the Four Storms, and people said that she was a sweet girl, if somewhat frivolous. He did have to admit that on the beauty of the youngest of the Baratheon sisters, but did not expect for the Lord of Storm's End to bring it up while they were engaged in a war.
"You really that this is a good time for us to discuss wedding arrangements? I still have responsibilities as the Prince Regent," Aemond reminded him.
"One of the reasons why I decided to declare for your brother, Your Grace, was the fact that my house could once again have the honor of a royal marriage, just like with Prince Aemon and Jocelyn Baratheon before the former sadly departed before inheriting the throne. And alas, Jocelyn gave birth to a girl, which would have changed many things, particularly for my house," Borros outlined. "Even you should understand the importance of one's word and I don't know if we will like the outcome should you decide otherwise."
Aemond gritted his teeth. He dares to blackmail me, the one who can ride the dragon of Visenya Targaryen?
One of the minor reasons why he was in no hurry to join the Baratheons was because of what Maris said to him when Lucerys flew off. "He must've taken your balls the night he had taken your eye, since you let my father control your behavior despite your hatred of Lucerys," he remembered Maris' words very clearly.
Aemond should've known that Maris was insulting him because she herself felt offended for him choosing Floris instead of her, as people say she was the cleverest of the sisters. Quite a tongue on her.
And given how Maris essentially persuaded him to kill Lucerys, no matter how much pleasure he might have gained from his death, Aemond didn't want to be around a person who knew how to use his anger to her uses. If I stay around her, she'll probably have me burn her common contenders with Vhagar and do more of her dirty work.
However, he also couldn't afford to displease Borros Baratheon, as they needed the stormlanders to fight in the war. Plus, a royal betrothal gave the stags a stake in the greens' cause, so they either had to win to get what they wanted or lose and thus surrender everything.
"When do you think the ceremony should take place?" Aemond wasn't conceding to Borros' request, only seeing how much he wanted it.
"As I said, Your Grace, Floris needs a husband as soon as possible. Preferably within a few weeks' time so that there will no more waiting."
So, he wants it very badly. This could be good.
"I'll keep it in mind," Aemond offered. "But… have Floris ready when the time arrives. I shall look forward to our time together when we're man and wife and this war is over, with my brother as the undisputed king and the traitors punished."
"That's all I ask, Your Grace," Borros said.
"All right, then," Aemond began to leave the hall. "Have Floris come here to this castle and I shall have some words with her. I only had a day to know her and that's not enough to understand the woman I will spend my life with."
"Consider it done," Borros affirmed as Aemond exited.
As for Aemond, he stepped onto the ramparts of Bronzegate and leaned on the edges, looking at the smoke from the fires that still burned from Vhagar's flames and the landscape that was slowly being stained with the blood of those whose lives ended so prematurely.
Oh, Rhaenyra, if you really consider yourself a good queen, then you would surrender and cease all suffering. What makes you so different from us? Aemond thought to himself.
A/N: The battle was based on the Monongahela, the famed defeat of Edward Braddock in the French and Indian War. And then we have the friendly fire incident with Vhagar, hence "green on green" (from blue on blue).
Aemond is really not doing himself any favors due to his behavior. But even he cannot just antagonize Borros Baratheon, who I believe was a two-faced traitor who played both sides in order to advance his house by any means necessary and allowed Lucerys to die. And Aemond marrying Floris (which I thought was the most likely of the Four Storms) can lead to more problems than good, but only time will tell.
Till next time!