Land of the King

Chapter 56: Worthless and Wearying

4287 E.L

Aelyx Belaerys felt as exhausted as the army he led. He, much like the forces he commanded and his fellow dragon riders were simply and completely exhausted. How could he not be, after two years of killing endless Arnorian hordes, at the price of several of his comrades? Some of the dead had been his rivals and enemies, but just as many had been his friends and allies, men and women he had known since he was a child, and yet despite that, they had all died just the same.

After two years of that, Aelyx could hardly blame himself for feeling at the end of his energy. Two years of endless stalemate, in which the front lines barely moved, as if nothing was going on, however that nothing happened at the cost of dozens of dragons and hundreds of thousands of men. There had of course been some action, and some victories on both sides.

Braavos, after a narrow vote, had decide to fully side with the Arnorians in the war, and with the help of the Arnorian fleet, and with most of the dragons still situated in Myr and Tyrosh, they had managed to blockade and eventually take Lorath. On their side, once it had become clear the war was a stalemate, they had begun raiding the eastern coast of Arnor, particularly the province of Raumdor between Morlond and Vinyambar. And yet that mattered little, especially seeing as that was one of the poorest and most underpopulated areas of Arnor, and so far from their heart land, it could as well have been on a different continent. In the greater strategic view, both operations had been negligible in that they had failed utterly in breaking the stalemate.

Back and forth across the Narrow Sea, Arnor and Valyria had traded hits, destroying each other's armies and fleets, and killing dragons by the dozens. Yet even in their greatest victories, Valyria had never been able to break the Arnorian lines and push towards Pentos and Vinyambar, but neither had Arnor been able to take Tyrosh and Myr.

And for all the raiding, the sea combat, and the incessant skirmishing that had turned Andalos into a burned husk preyed upon by forces from Braavos, Pentos and Norvos, for all that, little had changed. Hundreds of thousands of Arnorians had died, not that it seemed to make a difference, and on their side, hundreds of dragons and riders had died as well, and for all that, nothing had truly changed after they had taken back Myr and Tyrosh.

After all this time, they were no closer to taking Vinyambar or Pentos. In fact, if Aelyx was any judge they were even further than they had been at the start of the war. Before the war Valyria had 447 dragons, 300 of them being deployed to war early on. 447 of the greatest creatures that have ever existed, now, after two years of the war, Valyria only possessed 242 dragons, outside of the hatchlings.

As the dragons fell and the houses that owned them fell with them, for after all, what was a family of dragonlords without their dragons, the nobility of Valyria had pulled out all their stockpiles to hatch as many dragons as possible. They were successful, and Aelyx knew that in several decades, hundreds of large dragons would fly above the topless towers of Valyria again. But for now, hatchlings only granted power on paper, and for the war, they were about as useful as nipples on a breastplate.

And in fact, even the number of 242 was on paper only. In reality they had less than a hundred dragons left that were capable of fighting, all of them on the frontlines. The rest were in Valyria, either too green or too wounded to fight. They had lost much, too much, Aelyx most of all. His first real loss was his wife. He knew marriages usually didn't result in love, but the more he looked back, the more he realized, theirs had.

Only to be all taken away by the Arnorians. Deep down, Aelyx knew he had made a mistake when he had executed the Arnorian captives. He had taken his vengeance, but it had more than likely cost him his sister. He would laugh if the pain still wasn't there, even after those two years of war.

His sister Jaenara had always been a child of two races, even more so after her mother had died, and yet Aelyx had never imagined she would betray them and take up arms with the enemy, with the people that had killed his wife. When he had learnt of it, he had made a vow, to kill her, and yet he was never able too.

Over the course of the past two years, Aelyx had clashed with his sister more than once. It should have been easy to put her down, after all she was but one against hundreds. Yet Jaenara had always been clever. She never fought without support from her new allies and Aelyx and his compatriots had never been able to pin her down long enough to end her. She would strike hard and fast and then she would be gone.

A treacherous part of Aelyx wondered if he had intentionally let her go all those times or purposely failed to pursue her. For all the pain she had caused him, Jaenara was still his little sister and as the time passed, the hatred and the rage had subsided, consumed in the pity and the weariness of war. He had lost much from her betrayal, he knew. He had lost his vengeance, and both him and his family had lost politically.

With the scandal that had ensued, his father had lost a vote of no confidence and was no longer Triarch, and the Belaerii had lost their leadership over the Tigers. Aelyx himself had lost the command of the army in favour of Viserys Varezys. His family might have lost prestige, and his father might have lost his place at the head of both the Senate and the Tigers, but the blood they had shed had proven the loyalty of the Belaerii.

And now, Aelyx just wanted it to be over. He knew the war would soon be over regardless. The years of blood had subdued Valyria and the Senate's bloodlust. If nothing decisive happened soon, the Senate would sue for peace. They had killed near a million Arnorians, and yet the war seemed no closer to ending and they now had but only ninety and five dragons and riders at the frontlines. These ninety-five were the last of Valyria's war dragons, their arsenal of fearsome beasts that kept their empire together and without them, the Freehold would collapse.

And yet these were not the dragons and riders that had flown to Myr and Tyrosh two years ago. All of them were battle hardened veterans, the fires of war forging them into the most elite unit in the world. Before they had been so green it had been a wonder they were not pissing grass. Experience had taught them to wage war, and to do it with a brutal and ruthless efficiency. No longer would they fight like idiots, too believing in their own superiority. Common tactics at the start of the war had involved inexperienced riders flying head on into the bolts of Arnorian scorpions and windlances, just begging to get shot down.

War had served as the perfect selection pressure, burning away the rot and whittling down the weak, leaving only the strong.

In particular, revolutionary new tactics had been devised for fighting from dragonback. Tactics centred around hit and run, striking hard and employing complex manoeuvres and acrobatics to evade missiles. Dragons were armoured now, around the eyes at least, to better protect their only weak spot. They had even come up with a tactic that could allow them to avoid anti-dragon attacks entirely, picking up massive boulders before dropping them on the unsuspecting Arnorians from incredible heights and yet even that strategy while successful, had many drawbacks. Dragons took a long time to pick up the boulders and drop them. They could not carry many at a time and couldn't get far enough for the drop to be precise. Often, if they were not careful, they would have to end up descending into range of the Arnorians just to get a clear shot. So even that idea, while it had proven destructive to the smaller Arnorian fortification, hadn't been able to turn the tide of the war. Nothing had, in truth, until now...

It had taken a lot of effort, but eventually the Senate had been convinced to authorize one final offensive to turn the war in their favour. Though they had but ninety-five dragons and riders with which to lead the offensive, Aelyx would choose to fight with those ninety-five any day over the green three hundred he had first flown with.

The plan was a bold one, and yet one in which Aelyx had the utmost confidence, it only made sense, it had been his idea after all. He knew, as they all did, that for all the Arnorian manpower and will seemed to be unlimited, the Arnorians were almost as war weary as they were. Even for a country with a population of 155 million, losing almost a million of their young men no doubt took its toll. If they could break the stalemate, they could break the will of the Arnorians and take the upper hand in the negotiations.

It was highly risky however. If they failed, Valyria could potentially be left with only two hundred dragons left, all of them either too maimed or too young, but if they succeeded, they could win the war and win the peace as well.

Aelyx was not the only one who backed the plan and believed in its chances. Two years ago, when he had been removed from his position as supreme commander, the post had been taken up by Viserys Varezys. One might expect them to have an antagonistic relationship for this but if there was anyone that Aelyx could have swallowed his pride for and relinquished command to, it would have been Viserys, one of his oldest friends, and the twin of his deceased wife.

Viserys had backed Aelyx's plan to the Senate and had convinced their partner, Valaena Gryvetheon to back it as well.

Despite the rivalry that they had had two years ago, the demands of war had created a strong working relationship between Aelyx, Valaena, and Viserys, who together represented the three strongest families in the Tigers. They had utilised that connection to become a triumvirate of sorts that now oversaw the war on the frontlines and the battles of the war had made the frontliners as a whole all closer to each other and far more loyal to their commanders more than they were to the Senate and their families.

It only made sense. The balance of power and the cutthroat pursuit of greater power for one's own family mattered little to soldiers on the frontlines, because that was exactly what all of them had become. The war had not just forged them into true soldiers and warriors, but it had lead them all to cast aside their petty rivalries and differences and truly unite. On the frontlines, beneath the endless hail of arrows and bolts that blotted out the sun, soldiers did not care that their family and the family of the men and women beside them were rivals or enemies. They couldn't give two shits about it, caring only to know if the person next to them would watch their back like a true comrade.

It was this unity that more than anything, that made Aelyx have so much faith in his fellow dragonlords now then compared to the start of the war. Now not only did experience teach them how to fight properly, it had taught them how to fight together. And if they were united, Valyria could not possibly fall here.

The plan hinged on this trust and brotherhood. It was the only reason why Aelyx had even dared to risk it. The level of coordination, cooperation, and communication, amongst the dragonlords had never been seen before, not even in the Ghiscari Wars.

Yet for all the rosy optimism that Valaena and Viserys had come to have, expecting to be sipping Dornish Wine in Vinyambar by year's end for the signing of the peace treaty, Aelyx was a realist. The savagery of the war had burned away all the optimism he once possessed. He thought it more likely their breakthrough would finally force the Arnorians to retreat and sue for peace, but he couldn't see Arnor falling apart or being crushed decisively, like the others believed. Still, it was a good plan regardless, and with how long the war had dragged on, he was willing to take any victory, no matter how pyrrhic it may be.

And so he found himself in the council of war, discussing their last ever offensive, the battle that would decide the war. Not all ninety-five dragonlords were present in person, as skirmishes on the lines never ceased and the Arnorians would surely exploit their absence, nor were there only dragonlords present as the admirals and generals representing their naval and ground forces were also present.

"My fellow dragonlords, esteemed generals and admirals, let us not mince words. This war has been a disaster," his goodbrother began, producing a wave of angry and outraged mutterings. "Even the Senate sees as much, yet in their cowardice, they seek to sue for peace," he continued, to which the angry buzzing grew even larger.

The Senate had become a distant figure for the army, which more and more leaned with the Tigers. They were, rightfully in Aelyx's opinion, blaming the senate for many of their woes through their cowardice and incompetence. "We are tigers led by donkeys" had become a common saying among the dragonriders on the frontlines. Even soldiers and dragonlords who had once supported the Elephants had come to support the Tigers as they saw how pathetic, corrupt, bloated, and inefficient the Elephant-controlled Senate had become.

"However!" he continued, silencing the crowd. "That will not come to pass for we have devised a plan, to finally win this war. Aelyx..." his brother in law said pointing to him to continue.

"Thank you. Dragonlords, and commanders, we have long attempted to break the stalemate that has formed. We tried raiding Westeros, attacking Braavos and razing the Penstoshi flat lands, all in the attempt of breaking the stalemate and ending the war of attrition that has been grinding us down. And yet we've failed. the raiding achieved nothing, and in the north we've even lost Lorath. Therefore, we will no longer be attempting to bypass the stalemate, but rather, we will face it head on, and turn it to our advantage."

"How do you propose to do that?" a young dragonrider in attendance asked.

"From the bloody experience of the war, one thing has become, I think, apparent to all of us. Attacking bleeds one thoroughly. So we will make Arnor attack us on our own terms and bleed them dry. Our intelligence suggests they're almost as weary of war as we are. As for how exactly, well, the answer is in the Stepstones," he said, and the muttering grew even more at that.

"We have the tactical advantage there," he continued once the muttering had died down. "Our fleets and dragons will attack from three sides. One force from Tyrosh, one from the continent and one from Lys. By comparison, the Arnori will only be able to reinforce the Stepstones through Vinyambar. Our raids in Raumdor had some use in destroying their infrastructure and limiting them to one supply route. With any luck, we will achieve enough of an element of surprise to quickly take the Stepstones. In this regard, our boulder bombardment tactic should work especially well. With our dragons and our fleets cutting them off, our armies should be able to take the Isles."

"Is that all?" a man asked suspiciously.

"No, it is not, that's just the begininng. With our tactical superiority in the Stepstones, and the Arnorians having just the one supply line, we should turn the war of attrition there in our favour. But what's more important, the Arnorians will not abandon those rocks, they're ancestral Arnorian land, the reason they started this war in the first place. The morale and prestige hit from losing them would be too big. So they will fight to the death and we will bleed them. Furthermore, to defend the islands, we expect the Arnorians will launch another attack, somewhere else to engage our forces, and relieve their defenders. We suspect the forces in the Pentoshi Flatlands will march on Myr. We will be ready for them, and we will bleed them," he finished to an approving crowd.

"We will leave twenty of our dragons here in Myr. The others we will divide into three groups of twenty-five that will lead the fleets and armies in a simultaneous invasion of the the Stepstones from Lys, Tyrosh and the mainland," Viserys continued.

"Only twenty here?" a woman asked. "If you're expecting a massive Arnorian strike to come from Pentos isn't that too little?"

"Aye, it would be, but they would have the defensive advantage, and the Arnorians will believe they have the element of surprise. And you will only need to hold for a while, the mobility of our dragons would easily allow us to transfer reinforcements between the two fronts, ensuring we can crush any Arnorian counter attack. Any more questions?" he asked. There weren't any, only mutterings of approval and excitement. Viserys and Aelyx's charisma had convinced them all that they could win.

"Then we are decided then. On the morrow, each of our dragon riders will be assigned to one of the four battalions and sent to where they need to be. In exactly a week's time, our ships and dragons will cut off the Stepstones, before we destroy all their fortifications and land our troops. After that, we will bleed and burn the Arnorians when they try to take back our lands," Valaena concluded to a triumphant cheer, speaking for the first time in the meeting.

That night as he laid awake in bed, preparing himself for the end of the war, be it in victory or defeat, Aelyx's thoughts drifted to his family. His father and children remained in Valyria, relatively safe. Yet they were the only ones of which such things could be said. Several of his cousins and siblings had died during the war, and where there had been fourteen Belaerii on the frontlines once, now there were only four, Aelyx, his younger brothers, and one cousin. House Belaerys itself was left with only seven dragons older than fifty years old. That was considered lucky in Valyria at the moment, with some families not even having that.

Yet the greatest of the Belaerys dragons had defected with its rider and now fought for the other side, the perfect propaganda tool for Arnor. Once he might have felt anger and betrayal, now though, Aelyx could not muster the energy to care anymore. For good or ill, the war would end soon, and the sooner the better.

Valyria was losing control of its empire. Pentos and the Stepstones were lost to Arnor. Tyrosh and Myr were broken and devastated, kept in line by fear only, of both the dragons and the Arnorians. Qohor, Norvos, and Essaria, were practically independent now, though still loyal, and their tributaries in the Rhoyneland and Ghiscar had ceased paying tribute. The slaves in the homeland itself had begun revolting in large numbers and even the freeborn citizens were becoming restless and dissent was on the rise. Valyria simply no longer had the energy to maintain its fraying empire. It needed to end it all now. This offensive was the last of their strength. Their final hope… he just hoped it wasn't a fool's hope.

Jaenara woke from her sleep and got up from the bed, looking around her room briefly before she started dressing herself.

Her quarters in the fort weren't much, but they felt like home in some strange way. The room was a quaint little thing, four sides, no window, a bed and some cupboards to keep her things in. Despite its small size, the room was rather luxurious when compared to the bunks and bedrolls the rest of the soldiers in the base had. Fitting, as it was the quarters of the only Arnorian dragonrider.

After finishing dressing for the day, Jaenara opened the door, and walked out of her room into the underground fortress.

In the two years that they had held the islands of the Stepstones, the Arnorians had realised that surface fortifications were far more vulnerable and with their close proximity to the Valyrian fortress of Tyrosh and its dragons, their defences had to be impregnable to dragonfire for them to hold the islands.

To that end, the Arnorians had dug deep into the mountains and hills on the islands, excavating tunnels and building large underground fortresses and supply depots for their armies to rest in and regroup whenever there was a lull in the constant fighting.

Jaenera had never expected to be glad to be fighting. Ever since she had first mounted Terrax she had loved to fly, and yet the idea of fighting on him had never appealed to her. Even when the war had begun in full, the prevailing sentiment had only been sadness whenever Jaenara had confronted her former allies.

Yet often, even the brutality of the fighting seemed better than the grinding monotony of the silent pauses between the battles. It was the silence that she and the others all feared the most. Perhaps because the silence gave them too much time to think, dredging up the memories of the horrors they had seen. Perhaps because it always gave them a false hope that the gruelling war was over, that they could all return home. Yet the dragons had always returned and those hopes were always proven to be naught but foolish dreams. None of them still wanted to fight in the battles that were to come, yet waiting on the edge of them when they couldn't escape was even worse. The battles took their toll on them all, even on the land that they fought on.

The war had destroyed the Stepstones archipelago in many ways. The inhabitants of the isles had all fled to the Arnorian mainland and the once prosperous ports and towns had all been burned to the ground. Even the land itself was riddled with craters and scars from the never ending fires that had destroyed all the forests and their wildlife. Only soldiers now inhabited the islands and trade had been redirected for the most part through the Great Canals after Valyria had started burning every ship that wasn't theirs in a hundred-mile radius around Tyrosh, an act which had severely damaged their economy and relations with several neutral nations which had begun supporting Arnor in the war.

One of them, Braavos had even narrowly voted to join the war and had seized Lorath whilst Valyria was distracted and unable to act and the Arnorians had sold massive quantities of powerful anti-dragon weaponry to their ally.

This particular fortress, in the middle of the archipelago, had been designed slightly differently. The reason for that would become clear when one reached the massive courtyard and sheltered stable where the only Arnorian dragon rested.

"How are you my dear Terrax? I hope you've been playing nice with your caretakers," Jaenara said as she walked out into the courtyard. Compared to the rest of the fortress, which was buried in the mountains, this particular area was partially open and exposed to allow Terrax to take off easily.

The dragon in question nuzzled its massive head against her hand, while the caretakers looked on in amazement, once more reminded of why the general consensus was that the dragon was almost like an overgrown cat.

"Elladan, how is he? Has he recovered well?" Jaenara asked, turning to one of the caretakers who had taken care of her dragon since his injury a few weeks ago at the hands of their enemies.

"He seems to have recovered well my lady, enough to fight again certainly. I would however advise against taking on five dragons at once with him again."

"I didn't exactly have a choice there Elladan. Without Terrax and me, that whole convoy would have gone up in flames."

"Nevertheless my lady, I must insist you refrain from such reckless action in the future."

"Oh damn you. Very well then."

There were some that still looked down on and distrusted Jaenara for her Valyrian heritage and dragon. For the most part however, the Arnorians had accepted her, enough to trust her in the war at least. Risking your life to save an Arnorian prince did well to ingratiate yourself with them, who knew? And speaking of Arnorian princes…

"You woke up early," Túrin said as he walked up to her, clearly having woken up around the same time she did.

"Well, I am a morning person. Did you sleep well?"

"Surprisingly yes."

Jaenara was quite pleased to hear that her friend had slept well. Tyrosh hadn't been good. It was impossible for anyone to forget the screams of thousands of men as they were burned to death in an unjust execution, and even now that memory showed up in their dreams, haunting them. That vile act had stoked Arnor's rage against Valyria and had intensified the war's viciousness.

Jaenara hadn't known those men, but Túrin had. They had been his comrades and friends, and he had watched them all burn to death. That took its toll on anyone. Jaenara had been surprised when Túrin had returned to the frontlines, insisting on going with her when she took to the battlefield on the Arnorian side.

Túrin could very easily have remained in the mainland, his father would hardly have forced him back to war after he had returned miraculously. Yet for Jaenara's sake, he had returned to the frontlines, vouching for her to all the soldiers and commanders who questioned her presence and helping to oversee her integration into Arnor, as both a citizen and a soldier. She would forever be grateful for that, a friendly and familiar face had done wonders for her wellbeing during troubling times.

If she was telling the truth, Jaenara hadn't wanted to go back to war, but to ingratiate herself to the Arnorians and to save lives, she knew she had to. Yet despite knowing that she would be fighting her former friends and family, it had felt good for once, to use her dragon to save lives rather than to destroy them. To her surprise, the Arnorians had not asked Jaenara to deploy Terrax in an offensive manner for the most part, instead requesting her help in protecting convoys, which she had gladly given. She had been less glad to hear the second request, to test new weapons and techniques in a non-lethal manner on Terrax as well as reveal everything she knew about Valyria's potential weaknesses. Despite her reluctance, she had agreed and with her and Terrax's help, the Arnorians had refined their anti-dragon weapons, magic, and tactics, to deadly efficiency.

Valyria also no longer held a communication advantage over Arnor, reinforcing the stalemate. With Jaenara's aid, the Arnorians had been able to successfully reverse-engineer the glass candles. Combined with the palantiri, this gave them the edge in that area but it still had not been able to win them the war. Glass candles could not scry in the same way Seeing-Stones could, and they gave only confusing glimpses when one tried to use them in that way. Their primary use had always been communication and to interfere with the scrying attempts of the Arnorian palantiri.

Yet for all of that, the blasted war seemed unending. Every day brought word of more and more casualties on the frontlines, of more defeats and pyrrhic victories in some skirmish here and there. Even in the Stepstones they saw action often with massive raids by Valyria.

For the most part, in the Stepstones at least, the war had become a defensive one. After the disaster at Tyrosh two years ago, Arnor had yet to mount another assault on the fortress as it was seen as suicide. They couldn't even properly assemble a new fleet to take the city without it getting destroyed by the dragons. However, Arnor had dug so deeply into the Stepstones that Valyria's attempts to root them out had all failed.

"How is Terrax?" Túrin asked her quietly when Elladan begged his leave and left the two of them alone.

"He's battle ready again according to Elladan."

"That's good news. The Valyrians have been quiet lately. High Command thinks they're planning something big."

"With what dragons? At last count the Valyrians were believed to only have a hundred battle-ready dragons left at most."

"Desperate people do desperate things. Those hundred dragons and their riders are perhaps the most dangerous of all. They've survived this long for a reason."

"And how many will die for their desperation? How much longer will this Eru-forsaken war last?"

"I don't know. Yet we must keep faith. This war will end one day Jaenara, even if doesn't seem like it. Don't give up hope. Already Valyria is at their breaking point. Sooner or later, they'll sue for peace."

He held her then, the way he'd held her when they had both cried over what they witnessed in Tyrosh, the way he'd held her when she had returned from fighting her family and friends, the way he'd held her each time she learned of people she had known on both sides falling in the war. His embrace was comforting.

"Thank you," she said.

"Always," he replied, his voice affectionate and caring and his expression soft and warm.

She wasn't sure what to classify her relationship with Túrin as. He was her closest friend, her only real friend now, but in many ways he was something… more. They had gone through so much together, and knew each other so well, that 'friendship' often felt lacking as a description for their relationship. Many thought it to be romantic, and Jaenara could not fully deny that. If there was anyone she thought she could have a romantic relationship with, it would probably be Túrin.

However, the war never stopped. Neither of them had the time nor will to have a romantic dalliance in the midst of a war, yet the possibility of something more was there for when the war finally came to an end.

It gave her hope. Hope that despite how she had betrayed her family, how the war seemed to keep dragging on forever, she had hope that she could be happy with someone who still cared for her when the fighting stopped.

Their moment was ruined when the bells began tolling and the horns sounded. Immediately, the garrison sprang into action, with many running to man the battlements and all keeping their eyes peeled on the sky.

Spotting Elladan as he ran to his post, Túrin called out, "Elladan, what's the situation!?"

"It's another attack! The scouts spotted dragons on the periphery, it seems like the entire archipelago is under attack!" he shouted.

Túrin turned to her, "We have to go, now."

Jaenara nodded. It wasn't a new thing to them. The Stepstones archipelago was less than three hundred miles from the southwest end near Dorne to the northeast end at Tyrosh. A sizable distance but one quickly traversed by ships and dragons. Valyria had attacked and raided the Stepstones over and over for the past two years, but something told Jaenara that this was no simple raid. Somewhere in the depth of her heart, Jaenara knew that the end of the war was near.