Aerion Targaryen, King of Volantis
Winter had finally ended and with it spring had come and the snows had melted, it had been quite cold for some time, so much so that Aerion had almost forgotten what warmth actually was, and then spring had actually come and the heat with it. Volantis due to its location next to the sea was quite warm naturally, even during the winter it had not been as cold as reports said Westeros had been during the winter, yet this time the heat that came with spring was nearly unbelievable. Aerion had lost count of the amount of times he ahd been in court and had had to change his clothes afterwards simply because he was drenched in sweat, it was not just him either, half the court seemed to be sweltering in the heat of spring and the other half was dead. Dead from heatstroke the healers said, unused to the sudden warmth after the desperate cold of winter.
There had been war in the west, Westeros once more engulfed in conflict between the black and red dragon, Aerion no longer cared about Westeros, since he had been passed over for the succession he had stopped paying much attention to the news that came from the place. Other than when the information pertained to his brother's family. That was how he had known about his nephews Duncan, Jaehaerys and Aelix's marriages for love, marriages that had alienated most of the lords in Westeros if what the sailors at his docks had said was true, Aerion was not surprised Aegon had always been a bit of a romantic fool even as a child, despite whatever else he might have been that was always something that Aerion had both admired and despised in his little brother and now it seemed that it would cost him dearly.
It seemed his brother's pride had gotten the better of him as well, once more the kingdoms had gone to war and this time because of something that Aegon had ordered, an assassination on the royal family of the north, it had succeeded where the attempt on Aerion's own family's life had failed, Aerion had his sister to thank for that. The war that followed had been bloody, Aerion knew from the reports he received from his sources, the golden company had delayed sailing forth from Tyrosh but Aerion had sent a force led by his son Aenar albeit reluctantly to cause some form of chaos in Westeros. He regretted doing that now, it had been for nothing just as all the previous Blackfyre wars had been. Lucerys Blackfyre and Haegon Blackfyre were dead and with them much of the Golden Company's confidence, but more importantly Aerion's son had died, slain by his cousin Duncan the small. That was a death that had stung more for Aerion than his own father's death many years ago.
Aerion's grandson Gaemon was now his heir, the lad was but five but he seemed as if he would make a smart lad, still there were times when it was hard for Aerion to even so much as look at his grandson without feeling pain and grief over the death of his son. Shiera shared this same problem, she was even more cut up about their son's death than he was, and that was because she had argued with Aerion about how he owed a duty to Aegor and to her brother to send men, and if he would not go then Aenar should go to give him practice. Their son was dead and Shiera grieved, she spent time with their other children but she could not bear to look at Gaemon no more than Aerion could. The golden company was now residing in Volantis, but that was done more out of practice than out of any sense of obligation.
After the war the company had returned to Tyrosh and then had been kicked out of the city by the Archon who was tired of getting no reward for his investment in the Blackfyre cause, and was also facing a looming threat in the upcoming election. That he had won re-election once more simply proved this, and so Aerion had had to agree to play host to the company once more, he did not like having them in his home, time spent away from the company of sellswords even ones as good as the company had made him realise just how barbaric and brutal they could be. They were largely uncouth and dangerous men, all of them especially the new commander Ser Harry Flowers, a big brute of a man with more martial prowess than brains, someone would need to keep an eye on him once Maelys Blackfyre reach his majority, and Aerion had the sneaking suspicion it would be him.
Still at least he no longer felt as insecure in his role as the king of Volantis as he had done some years ago. He had never had the head for politics, in Westeros he had been too mad to understand the more complex games that were played, and afterwards with the company he had been a soldier first and foremost and then a husband and father he had no time and patience for the games played. Now as king he had found himself thrust into that world, and though he had struggled he had come to enjoy the games being played, he knew his allies and he knew his enemies and he dealt good hands to his friends and made his enemies want to change their course. It helped of course that when trouble had come calling in the form of a Dothraki horde outside the gates of Volantis he had feasted the khal, wined and dined him and then when the man still demanded some form of payment, his horde was butchered with arrows and spears and the man was made to watch. After that no trouble came to Volantis, willingly or otherwise.
He knew that there were those who would wish to see him gone and his grandson on the throne, for as in Westeros there were families and men and women who hungered for power, the former triarchy families were amongst them. The Maegyrs had risen high under Aerion, and they continued to prove to be very useful allies, as had the heavily influential Boyar family, there were other families, low down on the chain that also helped keep Volantis safe and then there were the red priests. Those priests continue to be popular but not as popular as they once had been and their influence was diminishing daily, there would be threats from them in the times to come Aerion knew but he would deal with them with alliances and offerings, nothing more and nothing less.
That was why he had called a meeting of his council today, to discuss what other issues might be needed to be dealt with in the near and not so near future. Laman Boyar, the chief constable of the city cleared his throat and spoke aloud. "Word from the docks reports that the sailors of the Moonshadow have been asking around about Maelys Blackfyre, they claim they wish to offer their services to him, but their accents are too foreign for them to hold any true allegiance to us or to the company."
Daemon Bittersteel the holder of the keys spoke then his voice uncertain. "It is possible that they might be unhappy Westerosi coming to give their swords to the company? After all we know from the talk by the docks that some of the Westerosi are not happy with Aegon Targaryen and the war he brought down on them."
Boyar spoke then. "That might have been the case had my inspectors not found a note and coin from King's Landing itself, they have clear instructions Your Grace. They are here to scout out for Aegon Targaryen and to do his dirty work for him."
Aerion spoke then his voice hard. "Very well detain them and question them and get all the information you can from them. I want no more incidents, and should they prove unwilling to speak, give them to the rack. Now what other issues are there for us to discuss?"
Maron Volpyke the son of an Ironborn captain who had come to Volantis with Aerion spoke then his voice hoarse as it always was. "Tyrosh and Myr are speaking about allying with each other and taking on Lys, and then setting their sights on Volantis. The Dothraki are also marching through the plains and are picking up men and slaves as they do so."
Aerion's son Maekar, the captain of the city guard spoke then. "Tyrosh and Myr? They are two unlikely allies, indeed. I presume now that the company is no longer in the city, the Archon of Tyrosh has taken leave of his sense. They cannot hope to afford to pay for any decent sellsword companies to fight against Volantis and Lys at the same time."
"They do not plan on doing so my prince." Volpyke said. "They intend on sending a false message to Lys, and having it sent from the Volanteene ambassador, using him to show that it is the official word from the king on the matter. They hope that the Lyseni will be so incensed that they will try and start a war with Volantis about these claims."
Aerion was silent for a moment and then said. "Call the ambassador back then Maron. I will have another job for him to do. As for the Lyseni, we all know that Volmark is not as great a fool as most take him to be. He will not believe the word of some Lyseni whore, no doubt though the ambassador might be Tyrosh' already, I never did trust that fellow."
"What do you wish for us to do then on this matter Your Grace?" Volpyke asked.
"Write to the ambassador and tell him he has duties in Pentos. I shall write to Mopatis, and tell him to expect the ambassador soon enough. And send word to Volmark, last time he was cut off from the loop and the cities bled that cannot happen again. And I want more information about this Dothraki horde that is marching for us. Now what is happening in Slaver's Bay?" Aerion said.
Boyar spoke then. "The harpy factions are fighting the slavers, and the slaves band together to revolt. Yunkai and Astapor war, and New Ghis and Meeren wait. There are men massing on Old Ghis, trying to rebuild that old empire they claim. And it seems as if Asshai might actually get involved this time."
"Asshai? What could they gain from this?" Aerion asked.
"Oh much and more Your Grace much and more." Boyar replied. "They want more power, the rulers of that fire hole know they are losing influence in Volantis and so are looking for places where their influence might run deeper and thicker. The slaver cities are one such place. Already they have a big following with many of the slavers disgusted by the actions of the Harpies, and their followers. Ghis hope to use this and reforge their empire on the back of wings."
"Wings?" Aerion asks. "What wings?"
"Dragon wings Your Grace. Ghis claim they have found eggs lost during the bleeding years and they plan on having these eggs hatched in the flames of a mighty pyramid, or failing that they plan on going to Valyria and hatching the eggs as the shepherds did in days of old." Boyar explained.
"Have they lords their minds?" Aerion asked. "No dragons have been alive in the world since the reign of my great, great grandfather. This will bring nothing but chaos and destruction to the world either way. I must speak with Moqorro and find out what madness this is."
"You might not have that chance not Your Grace," Volpyke said. "Moqorro left for Asshai this morning, he said that he had business to attend to and he had all the relative permits and such to leave."
Rhaena Targaryen
Winter was over, spring was here, and Rhaena Targaryen knew it would be her last spring, the last time she saw the snows melt and heard the roaring of the city below her. She was ill, well of course she was, she was an old lady now, having seen her one hundred and seventh nameday some two weeks ago, the oldest living person in Westeros she was told, and though there had been some celebrations, an air of mourning had hung over them all, and she was happy that it had not been similar to her other birthdays. She was too old now to worry about all of that anyway, her time in the sun had been good and now she waited for deaths wings to take her back to her family.
There had been war, there was always going to be war so long as the men in her family were to blind to see that they were all actually family and needed to stick together to override those who would threaten the work of those who had come before them. This time though the war had had a very heavy effect on the north, White Harbour and its surrounding areas had been badly damaged by one of her own blood, and that the boy who had led the charge was of the seven had led to a fierce backlash against the Seven in White Harbour. The people of the city had understood why the seven, the gods they had held to for so long would abandon them in such a manner, septs had been burnt and septons and septas killed or exiled from the city, there had been chaos until Daemon Stark the heir of the north had come and put it all to rest.
Still, Lord Torrhen Manderly the new lord of White Harbour was a deeply religious man, but he was one who believed in the old gods though his wife was a follower of the seven and had been part of Rhaena's convocation when she had come to White Harbour, and as such Rhaena had instructed the girl to do all she could to ensure the faith continued to have some representation in the north. Her nephew would do what he could but he was not as strong as he used to be and his grandson had developed a following, and was doing what he could to rid the north of the seven and the southern influence, Rhaena knew this from the letters she received from those close to her in the north.
War, she could and never would understand why one would wish to fight war, there had been too much war in Westeros, the dream and vision her father and uncle had had when they had asked for the heirs of the lord paramount's to come foster in King's Landing when Rhaena had been a girl had been shattered first with Daeron's invasion of Dorne. That could have been handled much better, but Rhaena now knew that her older brother would never have listened to reason, his head was full of songs and glory just as all of their heads had been. He was dead though, as was Willam, Daena, Elaena, Aegon and Aemon they were all dead their friends as well, only she was left now, the quiet one, the one none had ever looked at, even Baelor the brother she had loved the most had not looked at her and now she was the one left, the pious one, the one none had bothered with. She wished for her family now though, as she had not for many years, a family and children of her own, but she did not have them and she mourned what she had given up.
Daena, her elder sister had been much in her mind as of late, her fierceness and her pride that had made her do what she could to thwart the efforts of their brother Baelor and their uncle Viserys. All of it had been done to get her back together with Willam, her sister had been a very smart girl and would have made a fine queen had Baelor not been so blinded by his devotion, and yet what had made Daena great had also been her undoing, her tryst with Aegon had brought about the wars that were now tearing at the seams of all that their father had worked hard to repair. Her descendants had paid the price for that wilfulness, Daemon, Aemon, Aegon, the list went on and on, the Blackfyres they called themselves for their pride, and Daena's pride, all of it had been done for that pride and Daena's pride had ended in death just as her son's had. Lucerys Blackfyre was dead and yet another part of her sister faded from the world, Daeron was all that was left of her sister now and he was recovered now but still she feared for what could happen to him and his without her there.
Her nephew had always been a proud man, a dutiful man someone who had had a lot of love and tenderness in him as well. That was what his father had had, he had been the best of both his mother and father, and yet his devotion to Daemon Blackfyre had driven him mad and had resulted in far too many unnecessary deaths, Elaena had been clever oh so clever when she had done what she had done on her death bed. Their nephew had woken up to what he had become, and had done his best to make up for it, whether he had succeeded only time would tell, but no longer was he the mad man that the north despised and feared, he was loved again, and though his grandson still resented him some, there was no anger and hatred there, not yet. She needed to remind him though lest he forget himself once more. "Daeron," she whispered and her nephew came closer his grip on her hand tightening as he did so.
"Yes aunty?" her nephew asked.
"Is it night or day?" she asked trying to squint at the blinds from her position on the bed.
Her nephew looked back and then said. "It's night time aunty. The city sleeps, the manor sleeps."
"You know that I am proud of you don't you Daeron? For turning yourself around and remembering what it is to be a Stark and a dragon? You were given the name winter dragon by your mother did you know that, when she saw you, she cried for the first time that I can remember she cried and she loved you and all of her children equally. It's good to see you remembered that, and what your mother and brother stood for." Rhaena said, clearing her throat and then continuing. "I know it can be hard sometimes, to accept the hand that the gods have dealt you, with the pain and suffering that this path has given you. But never forget what you are nor who you are. Don't let the darkness take you again Daeron, because if it does then neither I nor Elaena will be here to save you and I do not think your grandson would stand having you near him."
Her nephew chuckled slightly though it was tinged with sadness. "I know aunty. I do not plan on letting myself get so absorbed with the Blackfyres that I forget my duty to my people and my family again. I nearly lost everything I held dear doing that and I will not chance losing it again, they are too precious to me to have it happen once more."
Rhaena swallowed slightly and then said. "That is good, very good. I am happy you know the real world from the shadows now. I have walked down that path many times before and it is not a pleasant one. Never walk down that path again Daeron. And know that I am and always will be proud of you for recovering yourself and remembering what it means to be a Stark. Promise me you will not forget."
"I promise aunty." Her nephew says.
Rhaena Targaryen, the second daughter of Aegon III Targaryen, and the last surviving member of her generation dies at the age of 107 on the fourth day of the sixth month of the 254th year after Aegon's Landing. A generation has ended, and now the past may close and the present may breathe once more.