A/N: I split this chapter in two so as to get something out and because it was becoming far too long. The next part is my next update and will be up in midweek.

The Reach 301 AC.

Ser Arthur Dayne.

They received the news that Thoros and his men were but a day away from shoring up their rear. Though they brought little actual numbers to the fight, their presence was more than welcomed. Barristan had seen to the defenses of Highgarden itself and only that his presence was needed with them, or Rhaenys would have bid him stay and protect those they'd left there. The Reach meanwhile had come out in force much to Arthur's delight. It meant that they were now not as outnumbered as he had at first believed them to be.

He'd wager it was closer to two to one in the Old Lion's favor than the three to one he'd assessed it as earlier. While he'd have liked to have Daario and his Second Sons with them here, their presence was far more needed to deal with the Dornish threat. The battles they faced here would be hard enough to win as it was, the last thing they needed was the Old Lion's army to be reinforced from the south. Arthur had spoken much to Barristan about Stannis Baratheon. The Bold had quickly made it clear that he thought much more of the new Lord of Storm's End than he had the former king. His words had been most welcomed by each of them when he'd said that Stannis would, at the very least, hold the Dornish Army at bay.

It gave them the chance to fully concentrate on the armies that marched their way and on the threat that they may face within their own ranks. Threats that came to them from so-called men of faith. Arthur was no longer such a man and had long since given up following the Seven who are One. Years spent in Essos away from the true Septs of Westeros had seen to that. As had how those Septons and Septas, that had been allowed access to the royal court, had spoken about Aemon and Rhaenys' relationship and love for each other. He'd never understood why Rhaegar had allowed them to do so and it, as well as the distance from his homeland, had been enough to make him less fervent in his beliefs. So to hear that Randyll Tarly and others may very well be zealots in their own had given him much pause. Though he was thankful that they'd found out about the possibility of such before they marched and not during the march itself.

"My uncle, Ser Baelor, your grace," Margaery said as she led in a man of age with Arthur and who wore an easy smile on his handsome face.

"Your grace." Ser Baelor said, offering a small bow of his head.

"Please sit, Ser Baelor. Margaery, you'll join us?"

"I'd be delighted to, your grace."

"Have you spoken to your uncle regarding our concerns, Margaery?" Rhaenys asked.

"I have, your grace," Margaery said nodding to her uncle as she bid him speak.

"I'm surprised at it being Randyll Tarly, your grace. He was never the most pious of men. As for the others, I've written out a list of those I'd name the most likely to listen to the Faith above all others." Ser Baelor said as he handed Rhaenys some parchment, which after her reading of it, was then handed to Arthur so he could read it too.

"So few?" Rhaenys asked.

"All in all, I'd wager it would be no more than five to ten thousand men at arms that could be called upon, your grace. Six Houses in all."

"I thank you for your counsel, Ser Baelor. Margaery."

They'd taken note of each of the Houses and found that when they looked at the numbers they'd brought to bear, they were fewer than they should be. So they'd ensured that none of them were left behind at Highgarden and all had been brought on the march as part of their own forces.

Rhaenys would lead the largest part of their own army against the main force of Tywin Lannister's and these men would be right at the heart of it. They'd be placed near the front and at the first sign of betrayal, they'd feel a dragon's flames. As for Randyll Tarly himself, he was among one of the three forces they would soon be facing or had some other plan they knew not as of yet. In truth, it mattered not. The Lord of Horn Hill would be dealt with and dealt with most severely. If he truly had the gods on his side then it would be Rhaenys who dealt with him and not Aemon. Arthur shuddered a little at the thoughts of what Aemon would do to the Faith once he had been informed of their plans.

Lord Gwayne was ostensibly in charge of the force they marched with as they were made up of his Bannermen, though all took their orders from Rhaenys, Barristan, and Arthur himself. It would fall to Ser Garlan to lead the force that Daenerys was with. While Torgho Nudho rode with the princess and would serve her as ably as he always had Aemon no doubt. Arthur and Barristan rode at Rhaenys' back and side, for now at least. Once the battle began, they'd fight on the ground while the queen fought from atop Meraxes and Arthur felt more nervous about that fact than anything else. Not that he worried about the battle he was to fight in. Long had he come to terms with the fact that even a stray arrow could take him from this world. While in his head Lyanna's words spoken long ago to him now began to ring out even more as they marched.

"It is by his side that your name will live on long after you have fallen, by his side you'll reach your greatest heights, and by his side that you'll meet your end. Fear not for that end will come not on foreign shores and not without its glory. Fear not for when it comes you'll welcome it and what an end it shall be."

It was late afternoon when their outriders arrived back. Their reports confirmed what they already knew. Ahead of them was the main force of Tywin's army and they were marching fast. Once they'd made their reports, Arthur spoke to Rhaenys in private. After leaving Barristan and Lord Gwayne with orders to continue on their march, he and Rhaenys made their way to Meraxes and were soon flying ahead of the army itself.

How long it took him to find the ground, he knew not. An hour, two, mayhap, even more, they'd flown for until he saw it. The hill was as steep as he hoped it would be and so Arthur asked Rhaenys to fly closer to where Tywin's army and his own outriders should be. As much as he was aware of just how advantageous a dragon could be in the battle itself, it was only now that Arthur truly saw the other benefits of having one. To see the field of battle from up high and to then be able to scout over your enemy without any fear of discovery. Along with the flames that the dragon would soon lay down, these two things were without equal.

Once they'd found them and he was happy enough that they'd have no other choice but to march towards the battlefield he'd chosen, Arthur bid Rhaenys to fly back to the hill and once there to land. It took them almost no time at all to reach it. After he helped Rhaenys down from Meraxes' back. Not that she truly needed any help to do so, they then walked the grounds and Arthur looked over them from a more conventional viewpoint.

"This hill gives us an advantage, my queen."

"It does?" Rhaenys asked unsurely.

"To march men or charge horses up a hill is folly. Most armies would prefer not to do so and I doubt Tywin Lannister would feel any differently. Yet we should reach these grounds before him."

"Would he not seek to go around us, Arthur? To pick a field of his choosing to fight on?" Rhaenys asked and Arthur was certain that those words had come from her talks with Aemon.

"He would, my queen. Yet sometimes you must fight the battle that's in front of you. I've no doubt that Tywin knows this ground and seeks to make it his. Once he arrives and finds it's not, then it's too late for him to do anything but give battle."

"And the advantage we hold will negate his numbers, Arthur?"

"Somewhat. Though in truth it'll be you and Meraxes who do so most truly, my queen."

The smile that appeared on Rhaenys' face was a small but true one. With one last look out over the field, they made their way back to the dragon and were soon flying once more. It was almost night when they and the army finally reached the field for true. Arthur was more than happy to see that they had indeed beaten Tywin Lannister to it.

After setting up pickets and beginning work on making their position as defensible as it could be, they held one more war council to go over their battle plans. Lord Gwayne would lead their cavalry when they finally charged while he and Barristan would manage the infantry, and archers while holding their lines as best they could. Through it all, Meraxes would fly overhead and Westeros would soon learn just how hot a dragon's flames could truly be.

Arthur didn't sleep that night, or to be more precise, he slept only intermittingly. He broke his fast and ate heartily the next morning. Then he ensured that Rhaenys did the same and that she was both well-armored and well-provisioned with food and water before she took to the sky. With that done, Arthur took his place on the top of the hill and waited for the Old Lion and his army to come into view. It was not a wait he had to endure for long.

The Conquest of Westeros LI

Dragonlords II

How the Conqueror and his sister-wives bonded with their dragons is as lost to the world as Valyria itself. As is why it was Visenya Targaryen and not Aegon who was the first Dragonknight. Yet while every Dragonknight that came after her followed in Visenya's footsteps, each Dragonlord walked the same ones as the Conqueror himself.

From the moment they bonded with their dragons in the dragon nursery at Lys, their time with them in those first few days, weeks and moons were the most important. Rarely would they be sent into battle during that time. Instead, it would be either a Dragonknight if there was one or a different Dragonlord whose own bond was more fully developed who would be called upon in times of need. Some say that there was a danger to be had from being called into action so soon, a risk that the bond would not be strong enough that would put both the dragon and the Dragonrider at peril. The Dragonknight was not among those who'd speak such.

The truth was much different and it was not until Aurane Velaryon was called to fight so suddenly that it was eventually revealed to me. A dragon's bond is a strange and mysterious thing and in the case of a Dragonknight, it is one formed for life. For a dragon and his newly bonded to fight together so soon a different bond would need to be formed. A bond that was closer to the Dragonknight's own than to other Dragonlords. Very few survive the forming of such a bond and so unless the need was dire, the House of the Dragon forbade the practice. Given how deep the feelings between the Dragonknight and his brother by choice were, the need for such must have been dire indeed.

A history of the conquest of the Dragonknight,

Marwyn the Mage.

Lys 301 AC.

Aurane Velaryon.

Each day he'd spent with Darkfyre was unlike any he'd known before. While he'd spent much of his life around dragons, there had always been a distance between them and him too. That was no longer something that Aurane could say in truth. He'd slept next to Darkfyre as he'd seen Aemon do with Gaelithox more than once. They'd eaten together. Spoken together. Or Aurane had spoken much to the indigo dragon while looking deeply into its all-knowing eyes. More than anything else, they'd flown together.

To say it was different than flying behind Aemon as Gaelithox soared the skies would be an understatement of epic proportions. The feeling of true power that you felt while a dragon did your bidding was awe-inspiring. It was almost addictive. Bidding the dragon to fly higher, faster, to go where you wished it to, or to let loose its flames. All of it reminded him of sailing a ship for the first time or riding a horse, only for the feelings to be intensified by a multiple of ten or more. In truth, there was no feeling quite like it and what surprised Aurane most of all, was the sense of peace he felt when he and Darkfyre just flew together.

While he'd hoped to have Aemon with him to help him come to terms with what being a Dragonrider truly meant, he was not alone in his learning of such. Daeron Targaryen was the Imperial Governor of Lys and the man charged with looking after the dragon nursery. He along with his wife Elaena had helped countless Dragonriders in the first forming of their bonds. Be it with dragons newly hatched or ones that had been previously bonded such as Darkfyre, they guided each and everyone in those early days. As they did him in his.

It was with Elaena flying on her own dragon Dreamfyre that Aurane took his first flight. With Daeron and Sunfyre that Aurane had bid Darkfyre to first let loose his flames at his command. They'd both spoken much to him and helped him in those early days. So much so that by the time they saw Gaelithox in the sky above the dragon nursery, Aurane believed he knew all he needed to. Little knowing that his true lessons were just about to begin.

"All went well?" he asked Aemon after Gaelithox had landed.

"Yes and no. Come there is much we must speak on and we've got a journey ahead of us that must be made in haste." Aemon said, his expression unworried, and yet there was a small tremble in his voice that Aurane liked not.

After Aemon had greeted his cousins as warmly as he could, he asked for food to be brought to him and Aurane joined him as he ate hungrily.

"Aemon?" he asked once he was done eating.

"Forgive me. The Blood Wyrm and I have flown and flown hard. I've not had a chance to eat but while atop his back and I realized not my hunger."

"What's going on, Aemon?" he asked worriedly.

"It was the Lannisters, Aurane. They were behind the death of my granduncle, though he was not their target."

"Aemon?"

Aurane listened to the tale and he did so in disbelief. The things that Aemon said made little and no sense and yet were clearly true. It boggled his mind that the Lannisters could be that stupid. That anyone could be that stupid. Opposing the Dragonknight was one thing, pulling on the Empire's tail was quite another.

Did they not understand that they'd bring down the full wrath of the Empire on them for what they had done?

Were they that deluded that they thought there was a path to victory for them in these plans?

Did they not understand they'd just ensured their doom?

"Aurane, Aurane," Aemon called out and Aurane shook his head clear of the thoughts that had been running through it.

"I was lost in thought, Aemon," he said to a nod of Aemon's head.

"I know the feeling, brother." Aemon chuckled, Aurane glad he could do so given all he'd said.

"You think the Lannisters behind your grandfather and uncle's deaths too, Aemon?"

"I had suspected it which is why I sent Daario to find it out. Given what they tried to do in Volantis…"

No more needed to be said and yet Aurane was surprised not to see the fury in Aemon's eyes that he expected. Believing there to be things Aemon had not yet said, he waited for him to do so. Aurane was stunned by what he heard and it explained somewhat Aemon's demeanor.

"They truly are launching a full-scale invasion of the Reach?"

"I…" Aemon began only to shake his head "They are." he said a moment later "And Rhaenys and Dany have flown to stop them."

Not waiting for the question to come, Aurane answered it immediately.

"I'm ready, Aemon. Darkfyre and I are bonded and though I'm nowhere near the rider that you, Rhaenys, or Dany are, I'm ready."

"No brother, you're not."

They left Lys the next morning. Only that Gaelithox needed to rest or they'd not have stayed the night. Aemon barely slept and though Aurane wished to offer him whatever comforting words he could, he knew there was nothing he could say or do to make it so. It took them almost a full day to reach the Dornish coast and just one look at Aemon showed how close he was to unleashing the Blood Wyrm on the keeps and cities beneath them. Dorne had allied with the Lions before they'd then joined their Houses with a wedding and it would be the end of them for doing so. Whatever promises that Aemon had made Empress Elia about her family while in Volantis would be rendered null and void by their actions. They had marched and had taken up arms directly against the Dragonknight now and they'd pay most severely for it.

Their fate would be merciful though compared to the one the Lions would endure. While Aemon may not have truly known his grandfather and uncle enough for them to bond, they were his blood all the same. That alone would have probably been enough to seal the Lions' fates. Attempting to kill his brother. Murdering his granduncle. Trying to rile up the enemies of the Empire to rise against his father and family. Aurane shuddered at the thought of what Aemon may do. He shuddered even more knowing that not even Rhaenys would stay his hand once he began.

"Tegun," he said to Darkfyre when he saw Gaelithox land near a stream that was a rare enough sight in the desert they flew over.

Aurane filled his water pouch while both dragons drank thirstily. A little distance from him, Aemon threw water over his face before turning to walk to him. His brother by choice wore as determined a look as Aurane had ever seen him wear as he did so.

"It's time to teach you to be a true Dragonrider, Aurane. Time for you to learn and to prepare for the fight you're soon to take part in."

"I'm ready, Aemon."

"I hope so, brother. Though I wish we had a few more moons at least."

"When has time ever bothered us?" he japed.

"True enough," Aemon said, though there was no mirth in his words or expression.

The next two days were spent laying loose flames over the desert they flew over. Aurane watched and then repeated, as well as he could, all the things that Aemon did on Gaelithox's back. When Gaekithox dropped low, so Aurane bid Darkfyre to do likewise. He watched as the Blood Wyrm loosed flames in an arc or in a direct focused attack. Noticed the difference in the intensity of those flames and bid Darkfyre do as the Blood Wyrm did.

Whether it was his own command or that Darkfyre had done these very same things at some point in his past, Aurane knew not. But not once did the indigo dragon falter or fail to do as he was bid. At night when they sat around the fire and the dragons rested, Aemon spoke to him of battles he'd fought in and gave him an insight into how different they were from atop a dragon's back. He warned him of arrows and scorpion bolts, and while he told him that few if any could actually harm Darkfyre, he was not as well protected as the dragon would be.

"You'll feel it, brother. When they fire upon you, you'll feel how Darkfyre feels. His worries, his concerns and mainly his anger will course through your veins as much as they will through his own."

"And I should not let it distract me?" he asked to a shake of Aemon's head.

"You should revel in it. Embrace it and let it be your guide, brother."

Within another day they were flying over the Dornish Army and how Aemon didn't just bid the Blood Wyrm to let loose his flames, Aurane knew not. Instead, they flew past them and were soon flying over Daario and his Second Sons. After they'd landed and heard what he had to say, Aurane saw it in Aemon's eyes. By the time they reached Stannis Baratheon and his army, it was clear they'd be parting most quickly.

"Do all you can for them, Aurane, but protect yourself first and foremost. If what Daario says is true then you'll face a lesser threat here and they'll not expect to face a dragon."

"And you?"

"Rhaenys, Dany, they'll be most welcome of my return I wager." Aemon smiled before schooling his features "The Old Lion will very much not."

Aurane watched as the Blood Wyrm flew further into the Reach and felt no sympathy for the men he'd soon put to the flame. As he made his way to speak to Stannis Baratheon and smiled to see both Yraegon and Valarr along with some other men of the Second Sons, Aurane felt no nervousness at the battle to come. He was as ready as he could be and he'd do as he must. Fire and Blood would soon be spilled and Aurane would ensure that it was their enemies that knew much of both.

The Battle of Horn Hill 301 AC.

Stannis Baratheon.

They'd marched and marched hard, even if for the longest time they'd not known where they were marching to. In the end, Stannis was somewhat relieved when they left the Stormlands behind. As comforting as it may have been to fight on familiar ground, it was far better in Stannis' mind to keep the battle far from their own lands. Still, little did he expect that it was to be so deep into the Reach that they'd eventually see the army that opposed them.

Along the march, they'd been joined by some of King Aemon and Queen Rhaenys' men. The Second Sons played some part in the Dragonknight's army that up to now Stannis was unaware of. One conversation with Yraegon and Valarr was enough to make that no longer true. They were Aemon's spies, lookouts, and very much more. It had been them who'd taken Renly prisoner and Stannis was relieved that his brother was still at Storm's End. The last thing he needed was to have ill-feeling between these men and his own and he doubted Renly would yet be able to put aside his grievances. It allowed him to listen to the men's tales without much interruption other than with the questions he wished to ask.

"Lord Stannis, our queen sends her regards." Valarr the oldest of the two men said after he'd introduced himself and some of his companions.

"I pray her grace is well."

"Most well, my lord. May we speak in private?" Valarr asked.

Soon enough they were sitting in his tent and though food and wine were offered, for now, it was only the former that was partaken of.

"The rest of our men are at present shadowing the Dornish army. They'll soon join us with reports of numbers and most likely will have done much to limit their effectiveness." Valarr said almost smirking as he did so.

"How so?"

"We're well trained in such things, my lord. Infiltration, confusion, and much more are all within our wheelhouse."

"How many men do you bring?"

"Twenty or so with us, another thirty to follow," Yraegon said and Stannis ground his teeth.

"It's not our numbers that will help you beat the Dornish, Lord Stannis, it's our expertise."

Though he had no idea of the true extent of that expertise and could see not how thirty men could cause the Dornish problems, he welcomed the men all the same. Three days after they had joined him, a letter arrived from their commander telling them where it was most likely they'd face the Dornish Army. A day or so after that, the dragons arrived.

To say he was happy to see them would be an understatement. While he'd not truly seen them in action and had heard only tales of them, Stannis doubted those tales not. Good men and true of the Vale had spoken of how the Bloody Gate was no more. That along with the tales of the Dragonknight's adventures in Essos were more than enough to make Stannis believe in the dragons' effectiveness. The fact that so far in Westeros they'd not truly been needed was more a testament to the Dragonknight's own than anything else.

"Your grace," he said with a bow of his head as he greeted King Aemon and Aurane Velaryon. The latter now being a Dragonrider was a surprise to not only Stannis, given the conversation he was engaged in with the men of the Second Sons.

"Lord Stannis, all is well?"

"As well as could be, your grace. Better now that you're here."

"Would that I could stay, Lord Stannis." the Dragonknight said and then bid Stannis to join him away from the others.

It was a far more worried Stannis that walked with King Aemon. Worries that he was about to express only for the Dragonknight to speak of them first.

"Aurane and Darkfyre will travel with you from here on, Lord Stannis. Though less experienced than myself or the Blood Wyrm, I've no doubt he'll prove himself just as effective. Mine own journey takes me deeper into the Reach as it seems the Old Lion has stirred from beneath his Rock."

"He truly marches on the Reach, your grace?"

"Among his many sins, Lord Stannis."

Stannis didn't need to be a clever man to see that there were things being withheld from him. Were he a more suspicious one he may have questioned why that was. Instead, he was sure that in time he'd find out and that in truth it changed things not.

"Daario Naharis and the Rest of the Second Sons should join you before you engage the Dornish Army. They're being led by Prince Quentyn and have already suffered great losses."

"You attacked them, your grace?" he asked to a shake of Aemon's head.

"Daario and the Second Sons did. They struck a significant blow and removed some of their best commanders as well as destroying a large portion of their supplies. Prince Quentyn is as inexperienced as my wife's uncle named him as and that is no doubt something you can use to your advantage."

"Indeed."

"Offer him a weaker target than he may expect, Lord Stannis. Aurane will keep the dragon far from sight and I've no doubt that Prince Quentyn will take the bait."

"And when he does?" he asked, wondering how true a victory the king wished of them.

"Break them, my lord. After that, I leave it up to you."

"As you command, your grace."

"I bid you good fortune, Lord Stannis. My wife may have said so already but if not I'll do so now, it means much to us that you've answered the call and it shall not be forgotten."

With that, Aemon Targaryen walked away and after a brief conversation with Aurane Velaryon and the Second sons, he and the Blood Wyrm took to the sky and flew North. Stannis marched that day with Aurane Velaryon riding by his side. That night they camped and a day later they were joined by Daario Naharis and the Second Sons. Listening to the full extent of the damage they'd wrought upon the Dornish almost brought a smile to Stannis' face. It did to others who were present at the meeting. As did the Commander of the Second Son's words that named Prince Quentyn as truly a fool. The idiot had posted no pickets, no true guard, and no outriders to cover his rear as he marched.

When the day finally came and Stannis lined up his men across from the Dornish Army and its fool of a prince, he did so exactly as King Aemon had suggested. The target he offered was as weak a one as he could present and yet still strong enough to make it look true. Hidden in the trees behind him was the majority of his cavalry and flying so high in the sky that they were but a speck was Aurane Velaryon and Darkfyre. Stannis held a parley and was left even more unimpressed at the newly named Frog Prince. Then after offering a prayer to the Warrior and the Stranger, the battle began.

Prince Quentyn Martell.

A dozen of his best lords. The same in his truest warriors. Sons now grieved for fathers and swore revenge while Quentyn mourned the loss of his good wine more than the fools who'd allowed themselves to be murdered in their sleep. Like those who mourned, however, Quentyn did vow vengeance too. Though who was to be the target of that vengeance he knew not.

Was it the Dragons?

Someone Else?

Could it have been Reachmen?

Quentyn understood it not. They'd been traveling through their own lands. How was it possible that someone could sneak up on them so completely? It made little sense to him. That he was trying to forget the panic he'd felt at the sounds of death and the explosions of their wine stores, well that only was known to him alone. The attack did change their determination and forced them to march faster. It made them send out outriders in all directions and when they came across the dead horse and the satchel it bore, Quentyn was sure it was a mummery of some sort.

It couldn't be true.

Why would Stannis Baratheon march their way?

Why would he fight for a man who killed his brother?

It all made no sense to him and so he'd at first refused to believe it. Only for the outriders to bring him news of a force that marched his way being led by the Lord of Storm's End himself given the banners they bore. The war council he called was filled with men just like him. Sons and nephews of fathers and uncles who'd won great glory in their time in this world. Not a one of those present had earned much of their own and yet all were just like Quentyn, eager for it.

Other than Ser Symon Santager, Ser Ryon Allyrion, and Lord Franklyn Fowler, none of them had truly fought in a battle or fought for their lives. So despite the way some of those men looked at him, Quentyn accepted their counsel. When they told him of the need to beat the enemy at his back, Quentyn agreed. A novice to the ways of war he may be, but he'd listened as his father and uncle had spoken and he knew full well the dangers being attacked from behind could bring to him. Though he shouted down the voice which told him that he should have taken more note of them when he'd marched.

They were almost in sight of Horn Hill itself when it became clear that they'd march no further without a battle taking place. Lining up his men, Quentyn rode on his white horse down the lines and looked out at the enemy in the distance. Through a Myrish Eye, he took note of their positions and of the ground they would fight on. It was flat with no hills and the only thing which gave him pause was the forest behind the Stormlanders. Should they break their lines as easily as he believed they would, then Quentyn liked not the thought of them escaping into the trees.

He rode to where Cletus and Archibald Yronwood were positioned. Pointing to the trees, he bid them to cut off any escape and then turned to give a speech to inspire his men.

"Stormlanders. Not the Reachmen we'd all prefer to wet our spears on but they'll do for today. A thousand gold dragons to the man who brings me the head of Stannis Baratheon. Now, let us bring this day to an end and show this pitiful force of Stormlanders that we are men of Dorne.

For House Martell! For Dorne!"

Arrows soon filled the sky and when he saw the first breaking of discipline in the Stormlands' lines, Quentyn himself led the charge. It was halfway across the field that he heard the roar and a little further than that when the horses came out of the forest. Before he even had the chance to order the retreat, an indigo dragon had flown over his head.

"By the gods," he said as he turned his head to see the flames being loosed behind him and when he turned to look the other way, the cavalry riding towards him was almost a pleasant sight.

Aurane Velaryon.

He had never felt as nervous as he did when he finally bid Darkfyre to show himself. Armored, hands gripping the reins that he held tightly, Aurane felt his stomach tumble as they dropped low and down to the field beneath them.

The Dornish army was led by a fool who had let anger and vengeance cloud his judgment. Even were that not so, then what Daario and the Second Sons had done in their ambush and what it cost Dorne, had clouded the judgment of those who advised and followed him. Prince Quentyn had then fallen for the mummery that Lord Stannis had performed as truly as they could have wished him to. Even without Darkfyre here today, this battle would end only one way. Their victory was all but assured, though it would still cost much blood to see it so. Aurane's true tasks were twofold and as he closed his eyes, Aemon's words played out in his mind.

"Show Lord Stannis and those who ride with him the true majesty of a dragon in action, brother. Let them see who they are allied with and leave them in no doubt that the truth of their victory was owed to you and Darkfyre."

"And Dorne, brother?"

"Fire and Blood, brother."

Darkfyre let out a loud roar as it flew over the first line of charging horses. Aurane could have gotten the indigo dragon to let loose his flames here, but he did not. True chaos to their ranks would come from the fires they faced from behind them. Those flames would break their spirits and win the day and so he bid Darkfyre to fly further from the front of the lines. Once he was as far from them as he wished, then and only then did he tell the indigo dragon to let loose his flames.

"Dracarys."

The flames came in a wave that was almost like a wall of fire. One moment horses rode beneath him and the next they had simply been blown away as mere ashes in the wind. Darkfyre stopped only when Aurane bid him to and the devastation he had wrought was a wondrous and terrible sight. As he neared the lines of spearmen, Aurane was surprised they hadn't broken and ran from the field such was the sight they must have just witnessed. Be it fear, that they were stunned and so rendered immobile, or foolish bravery, they held the line. Though they did so but briefly.

"Dracarys."

Darkfyre loosed his flames once more and Aurane bid the dragon turn and fly along the line of spearmen as he did so. It was a feat that the dragon managed without a moment's pause. When the flames had stopped and were replaced by a loud roar, Aurane was momentarily unsure of why that was. Holding the reins tight, he almost lost his balance when Darkfyre moved in mid-air and as arrows crashed harmlessly against the indigo dragon's belly. He felt it then, the anger and rage almost threatening to overwhelm him and Aurane was certain it was not only his own feelings that made it so.

"Dracarys," he shouted out loudly and the archers were soon engulfed in flames.

Turning his head back to the battlefield, Aurane bid Darkfyre make for the horses once more. Now flying from behind them, the indigo dragon awaited his command.

"Dracarys," he said before repeating it again and taking one last look at the carnage beneath him, Aurane bid Darkfyre let loose a roar that was both one of victory and one that brought any resistance to an end.

As they flew high over the remnants of the Dornish army, Aurane praised his dragon for all he'd done here today. He felt no shame at the lives they'd ended. Dorne had been offered a high seat at Aemon and Rhaenys' table. They'd have gained much from any agreement they'd made with their kin. Instead, they'd reaped the whirlwind and the lives lost here today were their fault and not Aurane's or Darkfyre's. The lives they'd soon lose were their fault too for Aurane was under no illusion that Aemon was finished with Dorne just yet.

The Battle of Highgarden 301 AC.

Mace Tyrell.

Two of his sons were marching to battle and to glory while he had been left behind. Mace had bristled, pouted, and argued to no effect. He was not even placed in charge of the defenses of Highgarden itself. That honor instead fell to his son and heir, Willas. That it was his own blood in charge should have made him far prouder than it did. Yet his own shame at being left behind and the knowledge that he'd win no honor or glory here today wouldn't allow him to.

It was not as if anyone would even manage to launch an attack on the keep itself. The battle would be fought far from here and so Mace walked around Highgarden's halls unarmed and without armor. He was heading to the Great Hall to have his luncheon when the horns rang out. At first, he ignored them. For surely they could not mean what they suggested. Then around him, guards began to run to place and Mace felt his breath still. Torn between hurrying back to his chambers to arm and armor himself or to the parapets to see what in the seven hells was going on, Mace stood still for the longest time.

"My lord." his guard said behind him and his words prompted him into action.

He was not a fit man. Not a man cut out for running fast and yet for the first time in so many years, Mace Tyrell moved as if his body had not turned to fat. In what felt to him like no time at all, he arrived at the stairs that led to the parapets. Out of breath and in dire need of a rest, he forwent it for now and hurried up the stairs and out into the coolness of the day. The sight that greeted him was both a pleasant one and one that was very much not. Lined atop the parapets were so many archers that Mace couldn't count them all. In the distance, close enough to be seen yet far away from the range of their arrows, a force of men were making the way to Highgarden itself. To Mace's dismay, it was a far larger force than they had to defend the keep.

Looking from the men on the parapets to the army that marched towards them and around him, Mace soon spotted his son Willas and hurried to where he stood. Unlike him, Willas was armed and armored. Standing next to his son stood Ser Vortimer Crane, Highgarden's Master of Arms, and Igon Vrywel the Captain of the Guard. Moving to his son, Mace asked for and was given the Myrish Eye that Ser Vortimer held in his hands. He looked through it and felt his heart beat that much faster as anger replaced the fear that had threatened to take a hold of him.

"Tarly." he spat.

"You must go to grandmother and mother, father. Arm yourself and see to their protection." Willas commanded.

"I.."

"Go, father, we'll soon be under attack."

Mace wished to embrace his son. To hold him in his arms and offer him a father's comfort or to mayhap feel a son's comfort for his own peace of mind. Instead, he did as he was bid and after wishing those who remained on the parapets good fortune, his son most of all, Mace hurried back down the stairs and to his chambers.

He'd just entered them when he realized his mistake. The men who awaited him there were quickly joined by his guards and the fight soon began. Though he was not agile, Mace moved past hands that reached out for him and made it to his sword. He cut down one of the men just as his guards fell to the floor and moved to attack what seemed to be the leader of those who'd attacked him. Ser Hyle Hunt was a man known to him somewhat and the knight seemed surprised by the fight Mace was putting up. Something which annoyed him greatly.

"You! I welcomed you into my home! You supped at my table!" Mace shouted as he swung his sword.

"You betrayed the gods, Tyrell." Ser Hyle retorted.

Time seemed to slow, Mace moved past Ser Hyle's strike and brought his own sword down in an arc that was certain to hit home. The sound of the other blade blocking his own rang out and then he felt a burning pain in his stomach. Falling to his feet, Mace dropped his sword and placed his hands on the open wound. There was so much blood that soon enough his two hands were completely red and he barely heard the argument behind him.

"He was to be taken alive."

"We needed him alive."

"FUCK!"

Through eyes that were now failing him, Mace saw Ser Hyle move to him with his sword in hand.

"I'm sorry Lord Tyrell. May you find peace in the next world." Ser Hyle said and then Mace felt the tip of the sword as it was pushed through his shoulder and deep into his chest.

Mother.

Willas.

Garlan.

Loras.

Margaery.

Alerie.

In his final moments, the gods were good to him as he saw them all one last time before he then breathed his last.

The conquest of Westeros LII

Faith II

When the offer came from the Empire, the High Septon and the rest of the Conclave of the Starry Sept welcomed it greatly. The chance to expand their influence to Essos, to stand side by side with the House of the Dragon and see their gods accepted as the only true ones were all too good to resist. Yet it had never been the High Emperor's desire to see it so which had seen the offer made. Initially, it was to offer an olive branch to Westeros and honor his new wife the Empress of the Sun. Later it was at the behest of his second wife, the Empress of the Ice.

Sending their best and brightest, the Faith found little purchase at either the High Emperor's Court or in Essos itself. Misunderstanding why that was and finding themselves outraged that their teachings had not been accepted by the entirety of the House of the Dragon, they set their sights on one of its members in particular. Words of scorn, looks of disgust, and open talk that named the Dragonknight an abomination, all of it led not to the end they expected it to. Nor at the time were they or anyone other than the High Emperor himself aware that it was for those very reasons that the Faith had been offered a place at court in truth.

The seeds were planted from the very first moment they spoke of the love between the Dragonknight and his sister as being something sinful. Those seeds grew over the years and mayhap even without words spoken to him by his father, Aemon Targaryen would have still sought to bring a reckoning to the High Septon and those at the Starry Sept. Whether that is true or not matters little, for their actions during the Dragonknight's conquest sealed their fate and changed Westeros forever.

A history of the conquest of the Dragonknight,

Marwyn the Mage.

Randyll Tarly.

He'd thought long and hard about how best to achieve what his gods wished from him. Had the Dragonknight been here himself then it would have been he that Randyll sought to give battle to. Aemon Targaryen was far from these shores and while taking his wife or aunt prisoner held some appeal, it was not a task that Randyll felt easily accomplished. Though it was with thoughts of it in his head that his new plan had come into being.

Prisoners allowed for so much to be done, especially if they were the right prisoners. Margaery Tyrell and her mother would bring Hightower swords to his banner. They would strengthen the Faith's grip on the Reach and if the dragons cared so much about their lackeys, it would bring him close enough to strike the blow that took Aemon Targaryen from this world once and for all. So while a large part of his Warrior's Sons would march with the Lannister army, so as to make it look as if he did too, Randyll had taken just as large a number of them with him to Highgarden. They were not the only strings to his bow either, he thought happily.

Men who had hidden their true loyalty to the Faith had managed to remain at Highgarden while the Dragons and the traitors to the faith had marched away from it. Not many, but enough to get good and true men into the keep itself, and right now, his son Dickon along with Ser Hyle Hunt and others would be rounding up their prisoners to bring them to face their reckoning. Randyll felt he could take the keep, even at the cost of many men and he was still undecided whether or not to do so. In the end, the decision was somewhat taken out of his hands. The gods, ill fortune, or sheer arrogance were what decided his day's course of action for him.

"Lord Willas, my lord." Mathos one of the men given to him by the High Septon said to him as Randyll looked at the keep some distance away.

"What?"

"It's Lord Willas who's in charge of the defenses, my lord," Mathos said before handing him the Myrish Eye.

As he looked to the parapets and saw the archers lined up, Randyll felt his blood begin to boil. They'd left a man incapable of battle to hold the keep. A man who'd earned no glory in spars or jousts and had led no men in any campaign of any sort. Had it been Ser Garlan or even the younger more foolish brother, Loras, then it may have stayed his hand. Seeing who it was, it very much did not.

"We attack," he said angrily.

"My lord?"

"We attack, blow the damn horns."

Staying out of arrow range, Randyll maneuvered his men closer to the keep. Soon enough some of them were falling to the arrows anyway and his own archers fired back. Leaving his horse so he was afoot, Randyll had the men use their shields for cover and they managed to make up the ground between them and the keep. Just as he was about to give the order to fully attack, a different set of horns rang out and the sight that Randyll was presented with was one that seemed to have been let free of the seven hells themselves.

"Are those swords alight?" he heard a voice call out.

Looking at the men who rode towards them, Randyll could see that they very much were. Though there were no more than a couple of hundred or so, the swords covered in flames were more than enough to make their numbers not the most pressing concern.

"Archers fire!"

"Form Up!"

"Form Up I say!"

His words were lost in the wind and the moment the first sword collided with one of his men and that man caught alight, was the moment he lost the day. They would not be taking the keep here today. That would have to wait for another. For now, Randyll had bigger concerns. His men had lost their discipline in the face of fiery swords and seeing those near them catch fire showed just how dire his situation now was. His own archers couldn't even fire straight as their fear won over their training.

"Retreat!"

"Retreat!" he shouted out and though he may have wished for a far more organized retreat than he got, in the end, he welcomed that at least this order was followed through completely.

The riders with their flaming swords gave some chase, but they didn't seek to rout them nor mayhap would they have been able to. Instead, they seemed happy enough that they'd forced them from the keep and won the day. How many men he'd lost in this folly, Randyll knew not. Some men were burned and now cried out in pain while others were unmarked. He'd wager a quarter of his men were dead or would not fight again. Though it could be even more than that.

When he reached where his horses were, Randyll looked back to the keep and worried now about his son and the men he'd sent there.

Had they too faced men with fiery swords?

Had his son felt the flames?

Was his son still alive?

They were questions that for now, he had no answers to. So with a last look at Highgarden, Randyll ordered his men away from the keep and to ride to where he'd arranged to meet up with Dickon and Ser Hyle Hunt. He prayed to the Seven that his son and those with him were safe and that they'd managed to do what he had not. Before he then offered a prayer to the Stranger and vowed to see the men who wielded the flaming swords would pay dearly for their insult. As would the man they owed their allegiance to.

Thoros of Myr.

Their orders were to march and join up with Rhaenys, Ser Arthur, and the others. Thoros would have wagered that not a thing in this world would have stopped him from carrying those orders out to the letter. Yet, the flames told him otherwise and so after sending word to his queen, it was to Highgarden that he and the Flames of the Dragon made their way. It did not take long for the vision in the flames to be proved to be true and as he looked at the men who were readying their attack on the keep, Thoros knew why he'd been sent here by his god.

Despite the advantage that defending a keep gave you over taking one and even with whatever adjustments Ser Arthur, Ser Barristan, or Torgho Nudho had made to the defenses of Highgarden, the keep would fall today. Or it would without the Flames of the Dragon's arrival. The numerical advantage the attacking force had was too much for them to withstand. Given how close they were now to the keep itself, they'd almost already lost.

Thoros closed his eyes and offered up a prayer to R'hllor. He then unsheathed his sword and at his signal, his men did likewise. As one the prayers were spoken and around him swords, lances, spears, and other weapons all alighted. Raising his hand in the air, Thoros pointed his sword at their enemy and shouted out the order.

"Charge!"

"Give no quarter!"

"Force them back!"

Over a hundred horses were soon in full charge and the sound of their hooves as they hit the ground was like thunder. Thoros could clearly see the fear in the eyes of those they charged toward. These men had never faced the flames before and after today, some would never face them again. He had no need to look back to the keep that was now behind them or to listen to the cheers that the men atop that keep roared out. Nor did he need to tell his men to dodge the arrows that flew their way in such a haphazard manner.

Faced with flames a man quickly learned the full extent of his courage. Few who did so for the first time didn't find that it would falter. Those he now faced were not among that few. As his sword struck home it wasn't the blow that took the man it hit from this world. That honor belonged to the fire that his strike had left behind. Around him, some men fell dead from the strikes his men laid upon them. The lucky ones that was. Men whose own good fortune smiled not on them today, however, they felt the full force of R'hllor's light.

The screams of men as they burned were loud. Some of them rang on for some time as they'd only known a kiss from the fire and not its full embrace. By the end of the day, there would be many men who'd bear the scars of this battle. There would be many men who'd bear those scars into the next world as well.

"Force them back!" he shouted when the discipline of those they faced had deserted them completely.

They were broken. Defeated. Their will had been shattered and the truth of them was now known to one and all. These men were so-called men of faith. Men who knelt and named the Seven who are One as the true gods. The men who rode with Thoros named another so and it was he who proved truest of all this day.

"For R'hllor!" he shouted.

"For the Dragonknight!"

In what felt like no time at all, the attack on Highgarden had been repelled. Though a part of him wished to ride after these foolish men and teach them even more of a lesson, that was not the task he'd set himself. Looking to his men, he saw that but a few had fallen. Those who did would be warm in R'hllor's embrace and be given to the fires before Thoros and the Flames of the Dragon left here today. For now, he needed to ensure that the keep he'd come to defend had truly held and once he'd done so, then it would be to the next battle he rode.

"To the Keep!" he shouted as those who'd fallen were carried there on their horses and those who'd not, they rode knowing they'd earned their god's favor once more.

Margaery.

The attack had caught them all by surprise. Margaery had been with her cousins and they'd tried their best to make it to where she knew her grandmother and mother were. It was not to be. The men had come out of nowhere and her guards were soon dead. Worst of all, other than not knowing how the rest of her family fared, was who it was who had attacked them. Margaery knew Dickon Tarly. While she'd not named him a friend, he had supped with Gwayne and her brothers many times. She'd seen him spar and practice his jousting with Loras and Garlan and now he'd killed good men and was taking her prisoner.

Her words weren't listened to until she literally threw herself to the floor. Acting like the spoiled brat that she very much was not, Margaery played up on how some men may think of her, Dickon included. She was stunned when he slapped her across the face and yet it only strengthened her resolve. The need to do what she must had overruled even her fears for her own safety and so his slap didn't have the effect he imagined it would.

"No, you'll have to drag me kicking and screaming through the keep. How long do you think you'll manage to do so before more guards come our way?"

"I'll fucking bind and gag you." Dickon sneered.

"And you or your men will lose their fingers when they do so."

Margaery almost smiled when she saw him sigh and his shoulders dropped. There was nothing she could do for herself, but her cousins didn't need to suffer her fate. Elinor may be trying to put on a brave face but Megga was close to breaking down completely. For once Margaery was grateful she had been only with both girls this day. Usually, there would be a much bigger group of them and she could only shudder at the thoughts of who else they may have managed to take hostage.

"Very well, what do you want?" Dickon said.

"Leave my cousins be. You are not here for them and they are worth little to whatever your cause is."

"No."

"Then we are at an impasse."

"I'll hurt them if you don't cooperate," Dickon said and Margaery knew she couldn't look to either of her cousins as the sight of their fear would break her. So she instead looked only at Dickon Tarly and did so with hate-filled eyes.

"Then you'll have to kill me, or the first chance I get I'll take my own life," she said to gasps from Megga and Elinor.

To her relief, neither of her cousins spoke any words for she feared that were they to do so then she'd not have been able to continue. Dickon seemed to take some time to consider before finally accepting it once she gave her word that her resistance would now stop.

"Very well. Lock them both in one of the rooms." Dickon said to the guards before glaring at her "One divergence from you or non-acceptance of my orders and I'll see them both dead. I swear it on the Mother."

Margaery nodded and then gulped once Dickon had turned from her. She rose to her feet and walked silently with him and the guards and prayed they'd be found before they left the keep. When she heard footsteps coming her way, she smiled inside. Only to find that it was more of Dickon's men and not more of her own that had joined them.

She listened as Ser Hyle Hunt spoke about her mother and grandmother. There was some mention of her father though she could hear not the words that were spoken. To her surprise, there was an argument between the two men that she hoped would give her some advantage or means to escape. Dickon's words about her cousins' fate if she tried being what stopped her from attempting to do so.

"We're leaving," Dickon said a few moments later and Margaery was manhandled as they now hurried through the keep.

As much as she hoped someone came to rescue her before they reached their destination, a part of her begged the gods to have them hold back. There were close to twenty or mayhap even thirty men with her now and she doubted that any fight would end well for her were it to come. Soon enough she was being placed atop a horse and she felt Dickon Tarly's arms as they wrapped tightly around her. It was not a feeling she welcomed nor did she appreciate the speed as they rode away from Highgarden.

No words were spoken and after who knew how long, she eventually saw more and more men in the distance. Knowing that these were not friends or allies almost broke her. Finding out what she did once she reached them, very much did. Not only was she taken to Randyll Tarly who looked at her with disdain and disgust, but the Lord of Horn Hill reveled in what he told her. Her father was dead. Soon her brothers and husband would be too according to Randyll Tarly. As she cried until she could no more, Margaery swore she'd live to see both Randyll Tarly and his son in the ground. She prayed not to the Seven or the Stranger to see it so. Nor did she wish for her brothers to be who sought justice for her father's death and her abduction.

"May they know the bite of Dark Sister and may her hunger for blood be as true as Rhaenys named it," Margaery said as they rode to where she knew not.

A/N: Thanks to all who've read and reviewed. Up Next: Jaime and Gerion come up against forces led by Garlan Tyrell and a dragon-riding princess. While Tywin faces off against Rhaenys and her army. In Highgarden Margaery's absence is noticed. While bodies fall and those he cares about face a fight for their lives, Aemon, and the Blood Wyrm ready to unleash hell on their enemies as the battles come to a conclusion.

For those following my other fics, the next part of this chapter, Dragonverse, and Brothers Keeper are up next.

Missed reviews:

Matt Black: Thanks so much for saying that. Ob I think at times the North can be somewhat full of hypocrites, so I'm glad you felt that with Brandon.

On Dany/Garlan, it's never going to happen, Rhaegar would never agree to it and while Aemon may fight for his own love, he'd never go against his father in regards to someone else's. So the Garlan thing was more a tease, as for putting Aemon/Rhaenys with Dany it would take so much away from the main premise, which is that Aemon loved Rhaenys so much he'd be exiled for it. So that's not happening either, I do have a match in mind for Dany though. With Lyanna/Rhaegar/Elia it's much easier to do a throuple as they are not an ongoing one. The big problem is not the lemon, that's actually one of the easiest parts, it's the practicalities and politics that goes with it. Remember, Aegon/Visenya/Rhaenys in canon led to Kinslaying and usurpation with their children.

Aedwards: Haha, I swear I feel the same each time I write it. There is no way to make it feel like a benevolent thing in your head after Star Wars at all. Same with Emperor, which is why I tried to write High Emperor so I didn't think of Palpatine all the time lol.

Knighthunter: I don't really subscribe to the HOTD reasoning for the conquest. Aegon had fought in Essos for some time and its sheer size alone was something you would need to consider. So for me, he just took the easy target. I think the HOTD thing was to try and retcon some stuff. With Rickard, I did think of making it a more nice relationship, but since his personality is so well known and here with Lyanna actually running, it made more sense to make him for lack of a better word, a bit of a dick.

On the Faith, it was so much about setting things up for later, almost by design in Lyanna's case. That was my take on the one-sidedness too. Aegon won relatively easily and he had less than what Aemon had. Also, certain canon personalities come into account too, such as Olenna being far smarter than her canon counterpart or Robert and Tywin being part of things too. I wasn't sure about using LF or going with someone else, but in the end, felt it would be more fun having him involved somewhat. Given who he is, he doesn't need a long setup to explain his character or motives either.

Chapter 24 reviews.

DarylDixon: So glad you liked it.

Changeisneeded: So happy you enjoyed it.

Rhatch: Thanks for saying so, I try to offer up as much as I can.

Paccobill: ¿En serio, en el mundo de Asoiaf usar dragones es deshonroso? ¿Lees LOTR y dices que hacer que Gandalf use su bastón también es deshonroso?

Skippyfromyechsupport: Given the nature of the reason for the visit to Essos, not so much. His visit North however was ill-advised. Though in some ways it brought his enemies all out into the open too.

Xan Merrick: It is coming next chapter, my friend.

Fluppyghost: You made your position on the Targs clear in every single post. At this point, I don't know why you keep reading fics where they are clearly the main characters and their relationships are clearly defined. Fine you dislike the incest, given the story is Targ based and the pairing clear, it's at no point going to change during the fic. As for the rest of what you say, Tarly is right and Aemon/Rhaenys tastelessness only goes to show that your issue is that you hate the Targs and want those they face to win, guess what, it's not going to happen in a fic where they are clearly the main characters.

Celexys: I'm so glad you're liking the Blood Wyrm/Ghost aspects, I do think the animals are so important in GOT fics, especially Direwolves and Dragons. As for the adapting of plans, part of it is that it's what a good commander should do, and part to try and keep the story fresh.

Dunk: Yeah it still needed a little more work to set up and even here, I could have maybe finished it in one sitting, but it'd have been too much to digest in one chapter, I also didn't want to leave a cliffhanger ending as such. I thought you might figure out where the dragons would go from the route back to Westeros, with Daemon/Aurane flying over Dorne to get to the Reach and so splitting up somewhere there. Jaime vs. Garlan should be fun yes.

With Tywin for as good as he was, I'm really going with the way he looked at Robb and the threat he posed as my guideline. He was so confident in his own plans that he couldn't see the trees from the forest so to speak. Nor could he even consider that they could fail until they failed, then to his credit he readjusted. But Tywin's lack of proper experience in fighting is a detriment both here and in canon. I think had Ned Stark managed to escape or had Stannis the men and not the issues with Renly, Tywin would have been seriously worried as they had fought and planned while he had very not. Here, while he gains an advantage by Aemon being off the field so to speak, he makes the big mistake of not realizing that unlike him, those who fought with Aemon have voices too. So Rhaenys may be inexperienced, but she has Arthur, Torgho Nudho, Barristan, etc, added to the dragons it really should give him far more pause. One other aspect that plays its role, is that for all the Bloody Gate did to send a message in regards to dragons, and the deaths of the IB at the Blood Wyrm's hands, Tywin is sort of dismissing those messages as it being that only Aemon can deliver such devastation. His biggest mistake though is in thinking that even should he manage to win, Aemon won't simply see him burn so as to not accept a defeat.

As for Doran, yes, it's precisely that. He and Tywin are in some ways very much alike. I also think his canon plan in the books is one of the dumbest plans ever. Arrange a deal to wed both the Targs, do nothing, then somehow you'll win the throne. Like for a man as smart as he is, surely he realizes that he'd have to have given up at least one of Dany or Viserys to bring further allies in. Yet that's his plan. So here, it's somewhat the same. Now a smart man would stab Tywin in the back and pretend to Daemon/Rhaenys it was all a mummery. But whatever.

Knighthunter: When I was writing this, plotting it out, I was torn between Aemon being sent East in exile and then the conquering being Essos or changing things up and in the end, it was actually the fact that I'd not have to make up so many OC's that won out. To be able to use known characters as the antagonists rather than some made-up Essosi name. Then the more I thought about it the more it hit me about changing the Conquest to more canon times, to replace the kings that Aegon faced with the more canon counterparts. But one key thing stuck in my mind, without a central court, it changes how players play the game. For example, Tyrion is smart because he has this central court with many other players to get one over on. Without that, he's almost an unpolished weapon, his mind is not lesser, but less engaged. Well, it's sort of the same with LF, even though he has this central court, he's distanced from it. He's not allowed true access to it, so he's never one of the key players where in canon, he's there for a number of years before canon begins. So his plans here are less advanced and those he is playing against are more clever and focussed than in canon. Because let's be honest, he gets away with murder in canon and he is damnably lucky at the same time. I truly believe that LF dies quickly in canon if anyone ever actually looks at him. Tyrion was busy trying to stay alive, Tywin still had a war to win and a realm to put to rights and Varys was playing his own game. If things calmed before LF raced off to the Vale, IMO, he'd be dead in a matter of moments.

One of my fave scenes in the series is his little exchange with Cersei where he goes information is power and Cersei has her guards basically threaten his life and show just how easy it would be for him to be killed, before going, Power is Power. And at the end of the day, right up until LF gets the Vale, he really has very little power at all. Here it's the same in some ways, as Khal Drogo may deal with him a little, but he'd never be his lapdog.