Elaena Targaryen
White Harbour was nice and quiet, compared to King's Landing at least. Elaena held no fear of gossip mongerers reporting on her every move here, not with her being the king's own aunt. There were fewer vipers in White Harbour than she had originally expected considering that this were the city that dealt the most with the south, and King's Landing. Elaena had not been to King's Landing, had not set foot south of the neck for nearly twenty years now, and she was glad of that. Being away from the south and its politics had given her the chance to reflect peacefully on her life and the events that had shaped it.
Her reflections on her life had led her to be less resentful of Baelor, her befuddled brother who had thought that by imprisoning her and their sisters he was actually doing good for the realm. After all his reign and their brother Daeron's had come after the Dance of Dragons and though their father had done all he could to ensure peace and stability in the realm, that he had died before Daeron had had a son had meant there was a vacuum in their lives. Baelor had tried to fill that vacuum with prayer and worship and she had resented him for that, had even hated him for it, but now she realised as she listened to the lapping of the waves on the rocks that Baelor had simply tried to fill a hole in his heart. And deal with a duty he had never asked for, the second son that he was.
Being away from court she had had a whole lot of time to be able to reflect on her life and the regrets she had of it. The fact that there was still a war and a schism in Westeros was one of them, her and her sister Daena's foolishness in giving way to their primitive desires had wrenched a hole in the very fabric of Westeros that had yet to be repaired, the generations that had come after them were still suffering from their mistakes. The Great Bastards, Elaena knew it was said had torn Westeros in half, but truly the rot had begun with Elaena and her sisters. The three maidens in the tower, that was the song, the one that painted them as victims, and though they were they got their own revenge on Baelor. Daena with a son who was still causing trouble from beyond the grave and she with seven children who were either dead or had lived a life in the shadow of their bastard siblings Jon and Jeyne.
Elaena knew what it was to regret, and she deeply regretted not being able to bring peace to her father's kingdom now. She had come to the north as an envoy to try and make Daeron see reason, but she had given way to her own desires to retire away from court and the poison that filled it, to live her life in peace. She had done her duty so many times she had argued to herself and her children were grown or they were dead, it made no matter she had played her part, it was time for her to rest she had said. She had been wrong and selfish, her children were all gone from the world now, Athell having died from drink, her youngest son had never been confident, burdened by his duties he had drank himself away and she had seen the signs and should have acted but no she placed her duty to her sister and trying to bring Daeron from the brink of madness above trying to save her own son, and now the gods were making her pay.
Of the original generation that had seen the conflict that had become the Blackfyre war, she and Rhaena were the only two left. Rhaena spent her time in prayer, whether for herself Elaena knew not, all she knew was that she was grateful that her sister was with her. Rhaena had always been a source of comfort and someone who Elaena could go to with her problems when Daena or Daeron had not been the right person to speak to when they were children. And then when they were adults, and Elaena felt the pressure of being a princess once more, Rhaena was the one who offered her guidance as to how to act and how to soothe her nerves. Rhaena had been the rock with which Elaena had balanced her life on, and so she was grateful that her big sister was with her now.
Being with Rhaena had stirred up memories for Elaena, of the times of her youth when her father and uncle were both still alive and ruling the seven kingdoms well. Times where she and her sisters had played games with their brothers and the various other lordlings who had come to court to foster. Games and childish fancies they had all had, and Elaena had seen from the beginning that Daena and Willam Stark were meant to be, they made the perfect couple than she had never understood why father had insisted that Daena and Baelor wed. And then when Baelor had refused to have Daena wed Willam Stark she knew trouble would come from that and it had. Looking back on her childhood now, she realised she had looked at it through rose tinted glasses, wanting for everything to be like that, like when she was seven and that in itself had influenced her life and her relationship with others.
It made her realise that perhaps that was why she had been so drawn to Alyn in the first place, the fact that he was a connection to both her father and her brother, and that he could make her forget the pain she felt for her mother's death and all the other catastrophes that soon visited the Targaryen family after her father died. Alyn made her forget Dorne and Daeron's doom, and then when Baelor imprisoned her, Alyn made her forget all of that. When Alyn died, a part of her had died as well, and so she gave herself away to work and no play, she wed and she bedded her husbands and got children from them but she did not truly love them, not like she loved Jon and Jeyne, and now she was suffering from that.
She could not led Daeron Stark suffer the same way she was suffering. Elaena knew she was dying, but before she left she had to give her family one last piece of advice. They were all in her room now, Rhaena, Daemon who reminded her so much of what his namesake and his grandfather had been like as a lad, Queen of the north Dacey Stark, and her own grandson Lord Arthur Connington, and of course the man himself Daeron Stark, King in the North and a madman besides. Elaena has already spoken or rather whispered to all the others in the room, her time is running out but she must speak with Daeron before she goes, she must do this one last thing and then the gods can grant her peace. "Daeron." Elaena whispers her voice cracking. "Come here."
Her nephew walks forward and sits beside her on the bed, his shoulders hunched in a way that suggests he is carrying the weight of the world on them; she knows that feeling all too well she must make him see. "I know you are haunted by ghosts' sweetling. I know what it is to be haunted by ghosts, but you are being a complete fool."
"Aunt Elaena, I don't know what you mean." Her nephew replies his voice tight.
Elaena laughs, wheezing. "Oh you sweet fool. Can you not see what you have become?"
"Elaena." She hears Rhaena say warningly, but she ignores her big sister, this needs to be said now before it is too late.
"Daeron, you claim to be doing all of this in honour of your brother and mother. But I can tell you now they would be completely disgusted by what you have done, and the way you have done it." Elaena says every breath an effort.
She hears those present gasp and hears Rhaena's warning. "Elaena." She knows what she is saying perhaps is not right, but the boy needs to hear it otherwise there will be war in the north once more. Daeron himself merely looks at her his eyes wide, eyes so like Daena's that gives her more resolve to go on.
"Daemon Blackfyre, your brother the one you claim to be doing all this for, was a man who valued chivalry, honour and family above all else. Remember when he stood up for you in King's Landing because some squires were bullying you for being from the north? Remember when he helped that poor girl from those idiots Aegon kept running around court? That is what your brother stood for, protecting the innocent and defending the weak. He fought for what he believed in and he did it with honour whilst taking into consideration the people he fought for and those he loved. You have dishonoured that, with your blindness to the world around you. Your sons died during the last war, so many men died during these wars you insist on raging. And why? Not because they believed in the Blackfyres, but because you are their king and they would die for you. But they get no recognition from you, nor do their families hear about their deeds. No all they know is that their sons and brothers and husbands died fighting in a foreign land, for some dragon who would forget about the north the minute they are crowned, and so that you can feel better about yourself. Daemon would be disgusted by your lack of morality and compassion for those men." She fumes.
"Aunt Elaena I..." Daeron begins.
"I am not done yet nephew. You have had your chance to speak and you did not do anything. Now it is my turn and you will not refuse a dying woman." Elaena says furiously. Her nephew swallows and Elaena ploughs on. "You did not mourn your sons, you did not mourn your brothers when they died. Cregan and Theon were dear to your mother, and Aegor and Brandon were dear to your wife, and yet you mourned the Blackfyre boys and did not mourn your own children. How can you claim to be your mother and father's son when what you did would have disgusted both of them? You say you are a man of honour and family, and yet you treat your own family like dirt pushing them aside to feed your obsession with the south. You throw them away like some bad garment and dismiss their woes and concerns; you did not even bother to see why Aegor was acting out before he died. You ignored his cries for help; when Daena killed herself did you ever stop to think why she did it? Was it perhaps because you, her father had sent her son to his death? Of course you did not think of it, you think of nothing. Your parents would be ashamed of the man you have become as would Daemon. I am ashamed of the man you have become." Daeron tries to speak but Elaena continues, with one final thing. "You tried to honour them all, but you failed. You failed them just as you are failing those left to you. Leave your obsession behind Daeron, before it is too late. You have people who love you and care for you, and yet you push them away. Don't, accept them and be grateful for what you have otherwise you will die cold and alone and no one will cry for you."
The lights are beginning to dim, her sight is going, the end is near, but before she closes her eyes she sees something akin to recognition in Daeron's eyes and she knows her work is done. Elaena Targaryen, a lady of many talents and faces dies on the fifth day of the seventh month of the 240th year after Aegon's Landing, she dies at the age of ninety.
Aerion Targaryen, the King of Volantis
Ten years to the day that Aerion Targaryen, the second born son of King Maekar Targaryen became king of Volantis. The occasion was marked with a grand tournament being thrown in the fighting pit of Volantis, with all the best fighters within the city competing including some of Aerion's friends from the Golden Company who had come to his city for a break from the fighting in the Disputed Lands. Aerion himself had ended his membership with the Golden Company ten years ago after they had helped him take Volantis, when he thought about the ending he meant more about no longer serving actively with them, he was of course a member in blood till his death, there were just some things that could never end, and that was one of them.
His reasons for wanting to take Volantis had been less about a desire to establish a base for the Company that was what he had told Haegon in order to get his support for up taking, it was more to do with the anger he had felt over being passed over for king by the great council in Harrenhal. Haegon's sources in Westeros had informed them that the lords who had gone to the council had chosen Aegon because he wanted to bring the north to heel and because they did not think he would be susceptible to Haegon's influence. That they thought he would cow tow to Haegon deeply angered Aerion, he might be wed to the man's sister and he might deeply love Shiera, he despised Haegon. The man was everything Aerion was not and he loathed him. Haegon was proud and boastful where he really had no cause to be, he lived in exile, his brothers were dead as were most of his nephews, his sons were dead or had abandoned the company and were living in Volantis. Really Haegon Blackfyre needed to be killed; Aerion's love for Shiera though prevented him from doing anything.
Volantis itself had been surprisingly easy to take, the company had gotten contacts within the ruling elite, during Aegor's time as the head of the company and as such used those contacts to plan a coup of the ruling triarchy. The elites pressured the triarchy to raise taxes and to charge more dues on the traders and the shop owners, all of this was done in secret of course through bribes and other such things. All this stirred the cauldron that Volantis had become, and when Aerion arrived at the walls of the city with the company behind him, they found a small force of soldiers there to resist them, and then they marched on for the Black Wall and the Palace of Fire where the triarchy lived. The cheering of the masses that day when Aerion presented them with the heads of the 'corrupt' rulers of old Volantis still rung in his ears all these years later.
After that, Aerion had decided to form a council based on the system he knew off from Westeros. He and his wife were crowned King and Queen in the Temple of the Lord of Light, and the council contained, a chief advisor known as the hand in Westeros, who was called Baelon Maegyr a rich noble with contacts throughout the city, master of ships was Aegor Rivers youngest son Daemon Bittersteel who had no wish to lead the Golden Company but was a master on a ship, master of the peace was a local named Darko Con Tarhao, a big brute of a man with an iron sense of right and wrong, Tristan Strickland served as the spymaster, and the commander of Aerion and his family's personal guard the fire cloaks was Harry Flowers, a man who was a fierce fighter and a veteran of hundreds of battles.
With the council sorted, Aerion spent the next few years consolidating his rule over the city, there were no riots as such, there were a few minor disturbances but these were largely ended by the priests of the Lord of Light who declared that their god had named Aerion his chosen one, and the protector of the city. The nobles, those who were sceptical of such things, Aerion won over with marriages, Aenar his son and heir was wed to the daughter of the most liked and connected man in Volantis Boremund Gorgorth, the man was slight of build but very cunning, with him as an ally the other nobles of Volantis all cued up to pay homage to Aerion and his family. Shiera herself seemed happy to no longer have to live in the hovels that had been her life from an early age, her mother Delena Strickland now in the final years of her life lived with them in the Palace of Fire where they lived.
Aerion's children were growing up very quickly, Aenar was now seventeen and had a child of his own, a son who he had named Aegor for the man who had been like a father to Aerion. Gaemon was fast becoming one of the best swordsman in Volantis and perhaps in the whole of Essos, skilled in the water dance of Bravos he had outclassed his teacher and that to at the age of fifteen, Aerion's third son Maegor, was a smart lad, quick on his feet and with his mind, Aerion often had him sit in on council sessions and give his own two pieces of advice as well some of which were quite sound. As for his daughters, Aerion had three daughters by Shiera Blackfyre, Myriah after his grandmother who was wedded to Daemon Bittersteel, Naerys who had become a priestess of the Lord of Light, and little Sylvia the youngest of his children who was still a babe for all her protests of adulthood. He loved them all dearly, just as he loved their mother Shiera, the woman responsible for his sanity and the joy and happiness he had found, when all others had ruled him out and written him off.
The tourney itself lasted for over a week, there was a melee which Haegon won of course, the brute was only good for fighting and nothing more, the archery was won by someone named Black Balaq Cohor, an archer from Qohor, and the jousting now the jousting was fascinating. The first few rounds were boring normality but the final two rounds were the most interesting, Haegon's son Daemon rode against Aerion's own son Aenar, and though they broke twelve lances against one another, Aenar won and Haegon stormed out like a petulant child and Daemon Blackfyre junior seemed broken and tired. Aenar went up against Ser Harry Flowers the commander of the fire cloaks, they broke twenty lances and the crowd roared with each broken lance and each twist and turn of the horses, until Aenar won once more and crowned his wife queen of love and beauty.
Whilst the commons and the nobles talked about the tourney and the feast was held and more talk was held about the tourney and about the politics of the area, Aerion sat with his wife and his children and watched Haegon, and watched his friends, the commanders of the company, and he assessed which ones would be useful in years to come and which ones would need to be cut off from the herd and dealt with. Eventually, the feast ended the guests left and Aerion resumed his duties as king, and the council was called to discuss matters of import. As always, Daemon spoke first his voice calm and neutral unlike his father's "The tourney was a great success Your Grace. But there are tidings that the sailors that come from Dorne have brought us. Princess Loreza Martell has wed Ser Corben Yronwood and with it bought the Yronwood's loyalty or so they would have us believe."
Aerion looks to Tristan Strickland for confirmation of this and is dismayed when the man nods his head and says. "I'm afraid that for once the mutterings of the shipmen are true Your Grace. It was a calculated move on the part of Prince Olyvar Martell, he knew the Yronwoods would rise again should Stark stir himself from his stupor to fulfil his oath, and so he took advantage of the peace and suggested a match that Lord Yronwood found too good to refuse."
"But why? Yronwood will not rule Dorne as his own, instead his cousin will rule alongside Loreza Martell and the ruler of Dorne after Loreza will only be half Yronwood. Why would he agree to such a match?" Aerion asked aloud.
It was Haegon, the bitter fool who had forced himself into the meeting that answered that. "Because he was pressured into doing so by the pretender on the throne. Aegon the brat has been pushing for this match for sometime so my spies tell me. And as such Yronwood would have faced either death or this match, he went for the match. It makes no matter when we invade and when Daeron Stark finally remembers his oath, he will rise again."
Aerion grits his teeth at the insult to his brother and asks Haegon. "And how can you be so sure of that? Corben Yronwood is a fierce man we all know that, a skilled fighter, he would kill his cousin if he had to, to protect his wife and their children. Yronwood would not fight his own cousin not now."
Haegon stares at him as if he has grown a third head. "Are you blind or merely stupid Your Grace? Just because you have forgotten the vows you swore to Aegor Rivers, does not mean that Yronwood or Stark have. They will rise for us when we come calling and they shall do their duty as befits them. Stark most definitely will, he might be mad, but he is mad to see us on the throne and so he shall. This time."
Aerion ignores the sally and instead asks. "What news of the movements of the slaver cities Tristan?"
"Aye, Your Grace. The Unsullied have moved from Astapor and are marching to pick up more reinforcements from Yunkai and Meeren. And my sources tell me that the dothraki will be marching to join them as well, I believe that the Harpy has offered Khal Pono a great deal of wealth to march on Volantis and bring it to the sword." Strickland said.
Aerion felt his nerves flutter. He looked at the map in front of him and said. "If they marching from Astapor to Yunkai and Meeren then they will march for Tolos next, and then from there meet with the Dothraki. I want word sent to Mantarys tell them that they are to be ready for a possible attack. Their gates should be barred and sealed. And I want word sent to the port Daemon, none are to leave without my say so and any information you hear I want given to Tristan. The savages might not go by ship the Unsullied will though, I want us to be ready for when they come."
"There is other news as well Your Grace." Tristan Sunderland said. "A raven arrived this morning from Bravos, it appears as if the Iron Bank wish to discuss terms with you regarding the loan that we currently have with them, and it seems that the iron throne is pressuring them to increase the loan."
Aerion was silent for a moment and then he said. "Very well, have your contact in the Bank speak with the Sealord and get the deal renegotiated to terms more favourable to us, and have your sources with the men, deal out the sentence to those who suggested the deal to my brother. I will not have Volantis put under more pressure. Not now."
"And what would you have of the company Your Grace?" Haegon asked mockingly. "Would you like us to refuse yet another contract in the Disputed Lands to sit here and grow fat and undisciplined waiting for a foe that seems further and further away?"
Aerion felt his irritation grow gritting his teeth he simply said. "I would have you do what you think is best Haegon, and do it soon."