Daenerys
Dany watched her army march along the Rose road from the sky, perched on Drogon's back. The dragon was annoyed at the pace her troops were moving along beneath them. He was waiting for blood and battle, snorting plumes of smoke from his nostrils. He was made for war, not for waiting and watching men march from one place to another. The wind blowed against her face. Dany tightened her grip on Drogon's horns. Her legs tightened around the dragon's neck. She kicked him, and Drogon threw himself into the sky headfirst with a roar. She used her hands and feet and turned him north by east, the way her scouting party had gone to screen the road in front of them. Dany did not want to leave any of her men alone and undefended.
She had turned back from the Stormlands as soon as she heard about Oldtown and the betrayal of the Hightowers. Her brother had found the new traitors to be much more dangerous to be left unchecked in the lands ruled by her betrothed's family. And so Dany had left the Lords Tarly and Rowan and their forty thousand strong army to deal with Robert Baratheon and his Stormlords to turn back for Oldtown. She burned castles and holdings to relieve them from the enemies' grasp as she made her way back from the Stormlands to King's Landing. Rhaegar had given her a hastily mustered troops of some three thousand men on her march into the Reach.
On the sixth day of her flight upon the lands of the Reach she had learned of the defeat of the reachmen by the Stormlords under Robert Baratheon. Had she been with them, Dany could have turned the loss into a victory with the help of Drogon. But her brother had given her other orders to follow. Lord Tyrell had set forth before towards Highgarden with his entire retinue from King's Landing to get the ten thousand swords her betrothed Willas had gathered around him. Had it been just her and Drogon she would have been sitting in the gardens of Highgarden, nibbling sweet melons and sipping arbor gold with Willas. But the men she led did not possess the wings of the dragon and Dany was not ready to leave them unguarded while the news of the Hightowers declaring for the rebels circled around. There was always a chance that her army could come upon any foes in the Reach and he should be there to help them win the day.
The march from King's Landing to Bitterbridge seemed so long for Dany and Dragon. No matter how quick her men set the pace, it was too slow for Drogon. Her goodfather had sent word that he was resting his men at Bitterbridge while they were crossing a small village past the Tumbleton nearby the Mander. Dany knew he would be waiting for her there, not wanting to tread into the Hightowers' reach without the help of her dragon.
They were still a half day's ride from Lord Tyrell's camp when she spied the first presence of her good father's forces in the lands around them. Ser Robin Rosby had ranged ahead to scout, and he came galloping back with word of a far-eyes watching from the roof of a distant windmill. Dany had looked at the scouts leaving from the back of Dragon. She followed after them to announce her presence and not to scare them off unnecessarily.
In a dozen heartbeats they were past the scout, as he galloped far below. To the right and left, Dany glimpsed places where the grass had grown into thick hedges on either side of the Rose road. Drogon let out a loud shriek that sent shivers to her bone. A small herd of horses appeared below them. There were other riders too, a dozen or more, but they all turned and fled at the first sight of the dragon.
By the time Dany's party reached the mill, the scouts of her goodfather were long gone. Dany returned back to her men and they pressed on, covering not quite a mile before Lord Mace's outriders came swooping down on them, forty men mailed and mounted, led by a brawny and swarthy giant of a knight with the golden rose of House Tyrell stitched on his surcoat.
When he saw her banners, he trotted up to her alone. "Your grace," he called, "I am Ser Hosman of Red Lake, as it please you. The sight of your fair face is a great sight during these difficult times." He looked at her dragon out of the corner of his eye and then turned her attention back to her. If he was unnerved by the sight of the dragon, he hid it wonderfully. He paid no more mind to the dragon than he would do for some horse.
"Thank you, Ser," she answered him. "I come on the orders of my brother, King Rhaegar to help you in your battle against the Hightowers."
"Lord Mace told us of your impending arrival, my lady. I believe you have come with more men to join our ranks," Ser Hosman answered, looking back at her men following up behind her. "His lordship is encamped with his host near Bitterbridge, where the roseroad crosses the Mander. It shall be my great honor to escort you to him." The knight raised a mailed hand, and his men formed a double column in front of her party. Drogon and Dany didn't need any escort, any way she knew. She mounted Drogon's back once again as the men started there ride to Bitterbridge led by Ser Hosman.
She saw the smoke of the camp's fires even from afar. From the sky the thin tendrils of smoke looked as if they were great black snakes, coiling and reaching up to the sky from the ground. Dany descended closer to the ground when they reached close to the river Mander and her good father's camp. The sounds of the men came drifting across farm and field and rolling plain, indistinct as the murmur of some distant sea, but swelling as they rode closer. Seated on the back of Drogon she could see the river even before her men reached it. Below, the stone-and-timber battlements of a small castle was beneath them on the ground. A field had been cleared off, fences and galleries and tilting barriers thrown up. Hundreds were occupying the camp of Mace Tyrell, perhaps thousands.
By the time her men caught sight of the Mander's muddy waters glinting in the sun, Dany set Drogon down and landed beside the river, amidst the voices of men, the clatter of steel, the whinny of horses. Her scouts had told her how big the retinue accompanying Lord Tyrell was, but Dany wanted to see for herself. Lord Tyrell's party had gotten bigger than it must have been when it left King's Landing. The host around him must have grown in size with men from the Reach joining the ranks as the Lord of Highgarden returned back from the Red Keep. "Go hunting," she told the dragon as she stepped down from his back. He must be hungry after the long and tiresome flight. Keeping watch over the army below was a tiresome job, Dany knew and Drogon's duties had considerably reduced his hunting time. She wanted him on his full strength before the clash with the Hightowers.
The men soon reached up with her and Ser Gerold Hightower brought her mare to her. Dany mounted on her mare and looked across the fields, to where the Tyrell host lay athwart her path. Ser Jorah Mormont had taught her how best to count the numbers of a foe. It seemed as if her goodfather had a good force of about twenty five hundred around him in his camp. "It seems as if more men have joined Mace Tyrell on his way here," she said after a moment.
"I'd say so. See the banners, your grace?" Ser Gerold pointed to the banners. "There were many lords with Lord Tyrell's party in King's Landing to attend Prince Aegon's marriage, your grace. Those lords had their own men with them as well. Others are sellswords and mercenaries and hedge knights and possibly more peasants and mere boys who has never seen lances or swords before in their life. They would sooner have pitchforks and ploughshare in their hands than swords and spears."
There were many banners flapping in the cool breeze along the Rose road, primarily among them was the Tyrell rose. The lords accompanying her soon to be goodfather flew their own standards beneath those of the banners of Highgarden. There was the wyvern of House Wyrvel, An apple tree on yellow, a grey gatehouse on white, quartered which indicated the presence of Lord Appleton, Lord Ashford's white sun-and-chevron on orange, the three coloured feathers of House Cockshaw, a black banner with a field of silver caltrops of House Footly and others she didn't remember the names of. "This is a good enough force to deal with the internal threat," Dany noted. "Especially once combined with Willas' army and Drogon.
"Never be over confident of yourself, princess," Ser Gerold said. "Overconfidence makes you careless. Carelessness leads to mistakes, mistakes lead to destruction. These men are no equal for the knights and other grizzled veterans of different wars. A dozen peasants with sword cannot make any change like a single seasoned warrior could on a battlefield."
"What say you, Ser? Can we defeat the Hightowers?"
"Anyone can be defeated, princess," Ser Gerold answered.
"Even the Dragonslayer?" Dany asked. "They say no one can defeat him. They say that he can't be killed. Not even by dragons."
Ser Gerold was surprised at the mention of Andrew Stark. The King in the North was the nephew of Ser Gerold Hightower, the grandson of his own nephew. "In the tales and songs of the singers," the White Bull answered after a moment. "Stark's own father and mother died at Starfall. Even before their time came. What makes him, a man who came from their own blood so special?"
Nothing, Dany thought. He's just like any other man, nothing compared to the blood of the dragon. "We must win a battle here, Ser Gerold. We cannot let a war tear apart the Reach as well."
"That is ever a risk, princess," Ser Gerold said solemnly. "War is risk. But it is a risk we have to take for the king."
Dany considered his words. No doubt Ser Gerold would know more about his own family at Oldtown. The Hightowers might have mustered a large host in Oldtown comparable to her own numbers and like as not they could have better warriors, trained men and knights. She would need Drogon now more than ever. She cannot fail Rhaegar, not now. She should deal with the Hightowers with Fire and Blood something inside her said. "Would they come to talk?" she asked. "Lord Leyton that is. Perhaps we could end this without any bloodshed. We could send word to Oldtown that I want to have a parley with them. Perhaps they would be willing to see reason."
"As you wish," Ser Gerold said. He was not so hopeful about the plan however, she could see. "But I don't think they would come to talk, not after getting their hands dirty with the blood spilled at the harbour."
It was then Mace Tyrell rode up to meet with her upon the stonebridge where a bitter battle between the Faith Militant and Maegor the Cruel had taken place two hundred years ago. The battle was so savage that it had made the Mander run red with blood for twenty leagues giving the bridge its name Bitterbridge. She rode her silver mare about to meet him. "Lord Tyrell," she said.
"Princess Daenerys," Lord Tyrell said. "We are most pleased to see you here." There were other lords who followed him and greeted her. Most of them were looking around, searching curiously for the sight of the dragon.
"It is a pleasure to be in your company again, my lord," Dany said. "I have brought men to join your host and the strength of Drogon."
Mace Tyrell looked relieved to know that she had brought Drogon. The dragon would make it easy victory for them. "Please follow us back to the castle, your grace," Lord Caswell said. "We have prepared room for you inside and your men could join ours in the camp around the castle."
Slate skies and brisk winds saw Dany on her short ride to the castle of Lord Caswell. The castle in Bitterbridge was not a great structure. The castle was small and was made up of stone and timber. Dany wouldn't call it tall but the flatlands around the castle made it look taller than it actually was. The banners of House Caswell flew from the ramparts, a yellow centaur with bow on white. In the low, flat lands around the castle Lord Tyrell's host had made camp. A deep ditch encircled the camp and the slopes were completely armed with sharpened stakes. They had spent enough time here to fortify the camp, Dany thought and they had done a good job at it.
Once inside the castle Dany called for all the noble lords present there to an immediate meeting to make plans for the clash against the Hightowers. They met at the great hall of Lord Caswell's castle. "Do you have any news about Oldtown?" Dany asked them.
"Oldtown has girded up for war," Lord Tyrell said at once. "We have heard that Ser Baelor is leading a huge host out of Oldtown to meet us out in battle."
And there goes my chance for all the peace talks. Dany frowned at the news. "Well, it seems as if we have no choice but to bare steel against them," Dany said. "Are the men ready for battle?"
Dany remembered Ser Gerold's words about the difference between peasants armed with swords and trained men. She had to know if they were ready for battle or not. Should they come to face the Hightowers in battle, the men should be ready for it. Dany knew that she could burn her foes down without a doubt. She could have Drogon torch Oldtown should the city defy her, but she would need men to hold the city for her brother.
"We have about two thousand and some several hundred men here in the castle armed and armoured for battle, princess," Lord Tyrell said. "My son Willas have assembled another army in Highgarden to join us on our way to Oldtown."
"The numbers may not be in our favour, your grace," Lord Philip Footly said. "Ser Baelor is said to lead an army which is supposed to be as large as ours."
"We will have Drogon on our side," Dany declared confidently. "Surely that must tip the odds on our favour." She turned her head to look what Ser Gerold thought about it.
Ser Gerold stood beside her unmoving like a statue cut from pale marble. Dany would want his wisdom and knowledge in battle more than she needed the others. The White Bull was a brilliant knight even as he grew old and loyal to a fault. She wondered why her brother had sent the knight with her to fight his own family. To test his loyalty perhaps, she thought. The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard obeyed his grace's command without a word however and Dany was grateful for his company.
"If the Hightowers want war then they shall have it," Dany told the men inside the hall. "All of these traitors should know what they would get in return for siding against their rightful king."
"We should be cautious, your grace," Lord Appleton said. "Lord Leyton is a clever man who won a great victory at the Battle of Oldtown without any bloodshed. He holds a lot of our friends and allies as hostages, people who haven't died yet."
Yes, hostages, Dany has almost forgotten about it. Her old bear was probably a hostage as well, maybe, she never knew. If he was still a hostage then Dany would free him as soon as she could get to Oldtown. She could not let him rot in the dungeons, not her old friend who had been her sworn sword and constant companion.
"Clever?" Dany sat down and stretched her legs, and thought about Drogon and his dark flames with crimson streaks. "We shall see how clever he is when Drogon flies over the skies around his High Tower," she said softly and left the Hall and meeting.
Within the perimeter the Unsullied had established, the tents were going up in orderly rows, while Dany took up residence in Lord Caswell's castle. A second encampment was being made close to the one the Tyrells had made; a bit bigger than the other one, sprawling and slowly rising up into position. The second camp had no ditches or stakes to defend itself for they knew that they wouldn't stay there for too long.
That night Lord Caswell threw a small feast in honour of her name. Dany had attended it graciously for the hospitality of Lord Lorent Caswell. Despite the ongoing war that threatened the Targaryen rule, the men in the feast were on high spirits barely even bothered about the battles they would have to fight. Dany stayed in the hall until it could be considered enough and then left to her chambers.
A stillness settled over her chambers when midnight came and went. Dany remained in her chambers alone without any sleep, while Ser Gerold Hightower kept the guard. She has been having some nightmares lately, mostly about the death of Viserion. She could not help but feel about the visions of Quaithe and the thoughts about that made Dany feel half a child again.
When she couldn't sleep she called in Ser Gerold knowing that a talk could set her right. When the old man came, she had moved up from the bed and changed her clothes suitable for a night's walk. "I cannot sleep, Ser Gerold, " she said. "Can we go have a walk?"
"Of course, Your Grace."
Dany followed the knight through a low door into a stair tower. As they started up, she asked, "You knew the parents of Andrew Stark, Ser Gerold. Tell me why does he hate my family so much, if you would. What made him hate the Targaryens so much?"
"Your grace, I don't know if it's my place to . . . "
"It is now," said Dany sharply. "I know about Viserys' death, I know about all the deaths during my brother Rhaegar's visit to Braavos, I know about Jaehaerys' fate in the North. I have never heard about a man with such hatred in his heart. Tell me what you know, Ser. I command it."
"As you say, princess." Ser Gerold bowed his white head respectfully. "I can't say what might be in his heart, Princess. All I ever remember is the boy who hid behind his mother's skirts. I was already a knight when I heard about my father and mother's death. They both lived to see their children grow, have children of their own and hold their grandchildren. One might even say that they lived past their time, still it hurt me when I heard of their deaths."
It hurts, Dany knew it very well. Her mother had died giving birth to her. She missed Queen Rhaella a lot even after it's been more than a decade since her death. "But his father was a traitor, right?" asked Dany. "Surely he was wrong in breaking his ties the Iron Throne. A betrayal to the mercy Aegon the Conqueror showed to his ancestor."
Ser Gerold looked down at the floor. "You know your grace, there was a time where your brother exchanged talks with the Queen in the North hoping to make a match between you and Andrew Stark. If that had worked perhaps things would have been very different."
Dany looked at the Lord Commander with wide eyes. She hadn't known about this betrothal. Lord Caswell's keep was scarcely tall enough to call a tower, but the country was low and flat and Dany could see for leagues in all directions. The fires were burning in the camp around them. Looking up at the stars Daenerys Targaryen thought about Ser Gerold's words. Of how her life would have changed if she had married Andrew Stark. He might not have become the Dragonslayer then. She might have become a queen in Winterfell. But it was not supposed to happen and fate would have them meet against each other in battlefield rather than in marriage bed.