The Riverlands 2 BC.
Aegon Targaryen.
Balerion had brought the fire to the men who'd ambushed them during the night. The Black Dragon had been as relentless as Aegon had wished him to and none had survived their first and only meeting with him. It had not completely raised the morale back to where it had been a day or so earlier, but it had stopped it from dropping as low as not avenging their dead would have seen it fall too. His anger had been assuaged too and as Balerion calmed, so too did Aegon. Though had he been with Rhaenys then that would have been even more true and even quicker to come to pass. His wife would have known just what to say and her presence alone would have been more than enough to stop him second-guessing himself, far sooner than he had done.
They were warier on the march the next day and so when they saw the men in the distance, it was upon Balerion's back and not on horseback that he set out to judge their intent. From the sky, he saw just how many of them had ridden to meet them and while Balerion wished to lay down his flames on these men too, for some reason he felt the need to hold back. Instead, he simply allowed the Black Dragon to be seen and flew over them once in a circle. Before he then flew back to his army and waited for the parley to begin, should there be one.
Very soon it was clear that there was indeed to be a parley to be held this day and so while his men rode out to meet those who rode under a flag of truce, he and Balerion flew to and landed at a spot of their choosing. It took some time for the two groups to meet up in the middle ground that he'd chosen, which allowed for Aegon to take note of who it was that had come to parley with him. The leaping silver trout named the men as House Tully and as they neared, Aegon wondered if the Lord of Riverrun himself led these men or had he simply sent knights and men at arms to do his bidding.
A part of him considered having Quenton Qoherys lead the parley and for him to sit it out. Dragonstone's Master of Arms was a good man and true and it would not do for a king to parley when a lord would not. Another part of him tried to remember all that Aemon had said to him, Rhaenys, and Visenya about House Tully and their part in the rebellion that almost ended their House. His kinsman had been somewhat raised by a lady of the house who'd married his uncle and had not been well-liked, which instead was the thought that came to mind. By the time the two groups of horsemen had met and were speaking to each other, Aegon had found his mind had wandered from where his thoughts had been leading it to and he'd noticed that it was indeed Lord Edmyn Tully himself who had led his men to meet with them. Climbing down off Balerion's back, he strolled across the open field between where the Black Dragon had landed and the Parley was taking place. All eyes were upon him and Balerion, who had taken to the sky, as he did so.
"My king," Quenton said as Aegon walked past his men and to the men from House Tully, Aegon nodding to them as he did so.
"Lord Tully are we to give battle this day?" he asked as he moved to stand some feet away from the auburn-haired blue-eyed Lord of Riverrun.
"I would hope not, your grace." Edmyn Tully said surprising him somewhat.
"So you ride not on the orders of Harren the Black?"
"Not now, nor ever again should your grace accept my offer."
"And that offer is?" he asked curiously.
"My aid in ridding the Riverlands of a bad king and replacing him with one far better than he," Edmyn said.
"How many men does this aid consist of?"
"I bring close to a thousand, your grace. Five hundred are cavalry and two hundred archers. I doubt I'll be the last to come to your grace's side before you reach Harrenhal either?" Edmyn said and Aegon resisted the urge to smirk.
"Your fellow Riverlords?"
"Are as keen as I to see the end of The Black, your grace. Yet until your own march, we'd not have dared rise against him ourselves."
"Then I am most pleased mine own march gave you the will to do so. Now let us speak some more on your fellow Riverlords and mayhap share a glass of wine or two in honor of our new alliance," he said to a smile and a nod from Edmyn, Aegon then turning to Quenton and ordering him to set up their camp for the night, early though it was.
Others had arrived by the time that they had sat down to eat their meal that night. The nearest Houses to the Tully's first and all sought to add their forces to his own. House Blackwood and Bracken were soon joined by House Piper and House Vance, and by the time they first saw the sight of Harrenhal itself, his army had swelled to more than four times its number. The men he'd lost in the ambush at the Wailing Willows had been replaced and added to by men of the Riverlands. Aegon had then done his best to take stock of the men and those who led them by riding alongside them.
More of what Aemon had said about House Tully and its reasons for rising against his own had come to him during the ride. Aegon thinking now as he had then, that their breaking of faith was not as justified as that of Orys' descendants or House Arryn and House Stark's own. Yet he and Aemon had not really spoken much on what to do with those who rose for him or fought against him, other than House Stark and House Tyrell that was. Those two houses held a place in his kinsman's heart than others, apart from their own, very much did not. So he had not yet come to a decision regarding the fate of the Riverlands once Harren had knelt or been brought to his knees.
What had become clearer to him by riding with the Riverlords was that other than House Tully and its lord, few if any would serve him as well. It gave him much to ponder on. Though once he saw the large stone towers of the imposing keep that Harren the Black had built for himself, it was other thoughts that came to mind. Thoughts that soon had him back upon Balerion's back and took him to the sky above the great keep of Harrenhal. As he looked down on the walls and towers, the true scale of the keep quickly became apparent and Visenya and Aemon's words about it were now proved true.
"Only a dragon can take, Harrenhal, your grace. Men at arms, siege engines, all would prove themselves unable to take it if it was properly defended." Aemon said.
"Aemon speaks true, Aegon, I saw it myself when we flew over it. Balerion, you must use Balerion to bring Harren to heel should he retreat behind its walls." Visenya added.
Looking down on the number of men spread around the grounds or who manned the gates and walls, it was clear that Harren had indeed retreated and he wondered if even Balerion's flames would be enough to breach the defenses that he'd need to bypass. Beneath him, he felt the Black Dragon's will strengthen his own. Balerion had no doubt which meant that neither would he and so as he flew back to his camp, he readied the offer of a parley that he, his new Riverlands allies, and Visenya, Rhaenys, and Aemon all agreed wouldn't be accepted.
It took them no more than four hours to encircle the keep and to show off the full extent of the force that he'd gathered against King Harren. Aegon then sent his request for a parley and was forced to wait far longer than he liked for it to be granted. While Harren rode out with his men, Aegon sent Quenton along with Edmyn Tully and some of the Riverlords ahead of him on horseback. His own entry to the parley that was held outside the gates of Harrenhal was to be upon Balerion's back. As he wished for Harren to see both the might of the army he had to call upon and the dragon he rode upon, in order to get the man to see the sense in kneeling.
As he climbed down off Balerion's back, he looked to see the arguments and insults that were taking place and being thrown at each other. He strolled casually across the ground between where Balerion had landed and where the parley was taking place. Aegon felt very much like the king he was and the little doubts he had about taking the keep and seeing Harren defeated by words or actions were long gone.
"I'll make you but one offer, one chance to keep some semblance of the power you seek and one only. Kneel, lay down your arms and I'll grant you safe passage back to the Iron Islands. I'll name you and your line as Lords of the Iron Islands and other than to mine own House you'll need not name any above you." he said to a snort from the older man.
"You'll give me that which is mine by right! Allow me to be less than I once was! Is it fluff you have between your ears boy?"
"You have eyes though I dare say they have seen far too little and understood even less. Do you not see the forces allied against you? The men who ride by my side? Those you named as vassals have deserted you and joined their men to mine own. We outnumber you by more than five to one and this is not a battle nor a war you can win. So once more I'll offer you the chance to kneel." he said firmly, almost enjoying it when the older man smiled.
"What is outside my walls is of no concern to me. Those walls are strong and thick." Harren said cockily.
"But not so high as to keep out dragons. Dragons fly," he responded.
"I built in stone. Stone does not burn."
He looked at him, this man who had left the Riverlords paralyzed and too afraid to act against him without Aegon's aid. This old man whose time had come to an end though he knew it not. Aegon felt no pity for him, nor would he feel remorse, and instead it was the words that Rhaenys had spoken to him when they'd parted that he thought on as he closed his eyes.
"You are a dragon, my love, go be a dragon."
"When the sun sets, your line shall end!" Aegon said as he turned and walked away, his footsteps taking him to Balerion, and soon enough he was in the sky once more. This time to wait for the night to fall.
The Battle of Gulltown 2 BC.
Daemon Velaryon.
It was a strange thing to be told that you were to die, and one he'd not recommend to anyone were they to ask him. To say then that it had changed his feelings about the upcoming battle would be an understatement. Yet even before Aemon Targaryen had said that he'd be joining Visenya and that he'd be doing so to ensure that Daemon's death didn't come to pass, his mind had been set. Even as he listened to Aegon telling Aemon to make sure that he didn't fall in battle and later as Aegon then told him that he could, if he wished, sit it out, Daemon's mind had been made up.
He would lead the fleet and if it was his day to die, then so be it. Knowing it was more than the possibility that any battle already was, allowed him to be even more focussed on all the moments leading up to said battle. Each time that Aemon and Visenya would be seen above him on their dragons, each shadow on the horizon or light that for the briefest moment couldn't be ruled out as being from another ship, all combined to make him feel more alive than he'd ever felt before.
It was both freeing and incredibly inhibiting at the same time. For he had no wish to die, no desire to fall and he had far too much to live for which meant that he was ever more alert and on edge the closer they got to Gulltown. When he did eventually see the assembled fleet in front of him, he felt his resolve waver just a little. His fear threatened to overwhelm him until he fought it down and readied himself for whatever the day would bring.
Daemon stood on deck, his Myrish Eye in hand as he sought out the most dangerous of the ships that were to face his own. Aemon had not known which of them had taken his life. More than one had bragged of it apparently, which had at least brought a small smile to his face. The knowledge that he was seen as a worthy kill was something he somewhat appreciated. Yet the lack of the same regarding who actually brought about his end was bothersome.
"Ready the catapults!" he shouted even though they were too far from their enemies to be of use as of yet.
"Make sure the scorpions are loaded!"
"Signal the rest of the fleet!"
His commands were followed as soon as they left his lips and not just on his own ship. With the Myrish Eye, he looked to the rest of the fleet to see that they too had made ready for the battle to come. Turning from his fleet to the one opposite him, Daemon saw that they too had begun to make ready and knew then that it was only the closing of the gap between them that would slow this battle down now. Then he, his men, and he imagined much to their dismay, their enemies all heard the dragons' roars and all eyes then looked to the sky.
Aemon had said that the battle had been in full swing before Visenya had brought Vhagar to bear on the Gulltown Fleet, if so then his presence and the presence of the Green Dragon had changed that. Daemon looked on as firstly Rhaegal and then Vhagar both dropped low and when the first arrows flew at the dragons, he knew what the response would be. In this, he was not disappointed and he thanked the gods that he and the dragons were on the same side. While he then at the same time offered them a prayer for those who were not.
Ser Marq Grafton.
When word had come from the Eyrie of what Aegon Targaryen had named himself, his brother Gerold had known it would come to this. War was inevitable and the Targaryens and especially Daemon Velaryon would know full well the importance of owning the sea. To do that they needed more than just docks at Dragonstone and Driftmark and so it would be to Gulltown that they'd come. Be that first or not, neither he nor his brother was certain, and yet they had prepared for it being their first act.
Their fleet was not what it could have been, had they had more time to assemble it. Yet both felt that it would be a match for the Targaryen one. With the addition of the Braavosi warships, maybe even more than a match. So even when the signal fires were lit on the shore and he gave the orders for the ships to set sail, Marq felt confident. More so when he looked at the numbers and conditions of the ships that Daemon Velaryon commanded. His own outnumbering them slightly and to his eye, most were in better condition.
He felt confident right up until he heard them. Right up until he saw them flying in the sky. Then his confidence left him in a breath of warm air that he expelled from his mouth. Air that he tried not to think looked remarkably like smoke due to the cold of the morning. Moving quickly, he ordered his scorpions to be directed upward, though he felt it to be pointless. Not only was it almost impossible to hit something that moved as quickly as the two dragons in the sky did, but the scorpions were not designed to fire straight up and had been bolted down on the deck to keep them in place.
"Archers! Archers!"
The cry went out and it took him a moment to realize that it was him that was calling for arrows to be loosed. If he was not in such a panic, then he may have asked himself what in the seven hells he was doing. Arrows were no match for dragons, they'd harm them not, stop them not, and if anything they'd only anger them even more than they already seemed to be. By the time the thought hit him, he feared it was too late. Yet he shouted out the orders all the same.
"Aim for the riders!"
"Bring them down!"
"For our King!"
The sound of his voice was soon drowned out by the sound of the dragons as they loosed their flames. Marq was not the only one who looked on in horror as ships that caught the full force of them seemed to explode almost. His mind screamed at him both that they were the lucky ones and that he was next. Yet so terrible in its horror was the sight that he found himself looking at, that he could do no more than that.
Not even when the Green Dragon flew ever closer to his own ship could he look away. As its great mouth opened, Marq swore he could see the flames build inside of it, his eyes then finally summoning the strength from somewhere to look away. They did not look too far though and it was to the man on the dragon's back that his attention was drawn. His black hair was flowing out from under a helm, dark what looked to be almost black eyes were staring back at him, and he saw no quarter or mercy in those eyes, nor in the single word that he heard.
"Dracarys."
As the flames swept over his ship and drew closer to where he stood, he laughed. A fool's laugh, a final fuck you to the gods and to the fate they'd confined him to. He wore armor and so jumping overboard was not an option. Though had the time to think rationally then he may have decided that drowning was a far better fate than being burnt alive. As he looked up and saw the Green Dragon fly over him, the flames coming from its mouth finally reached him and his final thought was an odd one.
"I should have had wine when I broke my fast."
Visenya.
Try as she might, there were still moments when she was sure that what she and Aemon shared would come to an end far too soon. Little moments where he'd seem lost in thought and she found herself worried that it was of them and of what they did that was the reason for those thoughts. That he felt shamed by laying with her and that he would seek to bring it to an end. Thus far each time she feared it to be that, she'd found it was other things on Aemon's mind.
As they flew towards the fleet that the Arryn's had assembled to face them, she found her eyes looking not at the ships, but at the man and dragon that flew no more than a few feet from her. Once again it was to find that Aemon was lost in thoughts of something she knew not. When she saw the tears fall from his eyes, she worried even more, and then before she knew it, he and Rhaegal had dropped low to fly over the fleet. So she bid Vhagar do as they did.
Daemon was far behind them, safe from the fate that Aemon had said he had suffered in this battle and so when Aemon bid Rhaegal to let loose his flames, she did likewise. When he pointed to the left, she reluctantly bid Vhagar see to the ships that lay in that direction. Her dragon seemed eager for the fight to come, keen to let loose her flames and show off the true might of dragons. She seemed almost as if she wished to impress the Green Dragon as it lay down its own flames. So when she bid her do so, Vhagar complied without hesitation.
"Dracarys."
They started with the ships that were most likely to engage their own fleet if left unmolested. Visenya found herself to be almost shocked by the ease of their destruction. Vhagar's flames didn't just set the ships alight, they made the ships collapse upon themselves. Wood, sails, and men, all disappeared from view in the blink of an eye as the ship practically exploded. Mayhap that was why she decided to vary things or why she decided to change things up and try out new tactics. She bid Vhagar lay her flames down from further away. Almost challenging the Bronze Dragon to show her the true extent of her power. While she then took note of the differences that the distance had on the flames and the damage they inflicted upon their enemies.
The closer they were to the ship, the quicker it was destroyed. That much became clear immediately. Regardless of distance, the ships burned but depending on how near to the ship they were, that burning took on a whole different meaning. Men suffered more if they were further away. They burned more and took more time to die. Those who felt the flames when they were close, did so but briefly and suffered little. So Visenya bid Vhagar close the gap before ordering her to lay down her flames again.
She had no wish to make these people suffer any more than they needed to. Enemies, they may be, but they were only so because they had yet to kneel, not because they'd actually attacked or harmed anyone she cared about. It made her ponder Aemon's words. He'd told her that she'd destroyed the Arryn fleet after they'd killed Daemon, that she'd attacked after rather than before. Visenya now wondered if it had been anger and despair that had made her do so. Suddenly, a momentary fear of what she'd do should Aemon be harmed came to mind and she turned frantically in her saddle as she sought Rhaegal and him out.
"Thank the gods," she said upon seeing they were both unharmed and turning back to finish what she'd started, she was stunned to see that the Arryn fleet was no more.
Though it was Aemon that she wished to fly to, instead she bid Vhagar to fly over their own fleet and to take her to Daemon's flagship. A smile soon appeared on her face as she looked down to see it and he were both unharmed. With a quick flight over the rest of their fleet, something which showed her that not one of them had been sunk or even damaged, she flew low once more and with her hand, pointed to Gulltown and its docks. Then she and Vhagar flew to where they both truly wished to be and within moments, the sounds of the Green and Bronze Dragon's roars were soon heard over Gulltown itself.
Aemon.
It was different, to have Rhaegal let loose his flames on the living rather than the dead was very different. The sounds he could hear as they flew over the ships, the smell of those below him as they burned, and the screams that came from them, all of it different from how it had been when they'd faced the Night King's army. Was this another time and another place and he a different man, then he'd have felt some guilt or horror even at what he and Rhaegal had done. Yet here today, he very much did not.
While he may have been reacting to the thoughts in his head, they were not the reason why he'd shown no quarter or given no warning. The ruthless streak that had always been there within him, had come out on this day because of promises he had made and ones that he very much intended to live up to. Aegon had bid him to protect Daemon Velaryon and to ensure he didn't fall here today and so Aemon had done what was needed to make that so. He'd with Visenya's help, not only sought to beat the Arryn fleet but destroy it.
Flying over it one more time, he looked down upon the carnage that he, Visenya, and their dragons had wrought. It had been brutal, and devastating, and not one ship had escaped Rhaegal and Vhagar's flames. With a look back to see that their own ships had suffered no damage whatsoever, Aemon finally began to breathe easy once more. This was what he'd come back for wasn't it? Why he'd been sent back in time? Why he was here? To change things. To stop those from falling that would see his House rise even higher. To protect those both in his House and those close to it.
Seeing Vhagar fly closer to him, it was to Gulltown itself that he directed Rhaegal and with a soft stroke of his hand over Ghost's fur, they were joined by the Bronze Dragon and were soon flying over the port city. Both dragons roared and beneath them, people scurried looking for cover that would do them no good if their flames were let loose here. Though this was not, nor would it be his intent. The men on the ships were soldiers, warriors, and they had meant them harm. While below them there were those who too held the same intent, there were far more innocents too. For now, his ruthlessness didn't extend to seeing the Smallfolk suffer just so that he could see their men at arms defeated. He was not Tywin Lannister or Roose Bolton, he was not nor would he become the Night King. So it would be the roars of the dragons, the images of the ships burning in the sea, and the threat of what was to come that would see Gulltown and its Lord accept that it was to the dragons that they owed their allegiance.
"They will kneel, Rhaegal, because of what you did they will kneel," he said to the wind and to his dragon and heard the sound of Rhaegal's trill as they flew back out to sea.
It took until nightfall for the first of their ships to reach the docks. He and Rhaegal offered the men who disembarked cover and be it their presence and the threat they posed, or that the will to fight had already been broken, they faced no opposing force as they did so. By the time a dozen more ships had docked, he and Rhaegal had landed, Vhagar and Visenya quickly joining them. He released Ghost from his ties, the white wolf quickly running to one of the abandoned stalls both to stretch his legs and to indulge himself in some of the wares that had been left unattended. Aemon smiled at the sight and touched his coin purse to make sure he could pay the man or woman whose stall Ghost was now destroying.
"You are unhurt?" Visenya asked and he nodded, looking her over to make sure she was unharmed and while he didn't ask after her own health with his words, his eyes had done enough to show her that he worried over her too.
"Daemon?" he asked, having not seen the man as of yet.
"Is safe and well." she said much to his relief "Where are the soldiers, Aemon?"
"Either with their Lord or they've abandoned their posts," he said though he was sure it was the former.
"We'll face no more fights?"
"I think not. We'll send word to Lord Grafton, parley, and offer him terms," he said and she nodded.
There was so much more that he'd have liked to say to her, yet for now, those words would need to remain unsaid and they were soon joined by a clearly well-fed Ghost and then Daemon Velaryon and more of their men. Rhaegal took to the sky, off to find food for both he and Vhagar, and with their hunger sated or soon to be so, Aemon felt his own begin to rise.
"We should eat," he said to Visenya whose own hunger seemed to come upon her at his words and who nodded eagerly
"Send some men to the keep, we seek a parley before night has fallen completely," Visenya said as she turned to Daemon.
"It will be done at once, your grace. We have some food on the Seahorse for you both."
After eating, they made their way to the keep of Lord Grafton, finding the man and a few of his knights waiting there for them once they reached it. The looks on their faces showed them to be broken and defeated and Aemon began to wonder if any of them had kin on any of the ships they'd burned, expecting that some of them must have done. When they saw Ghost, their expressions changed somewhat, fear replacing despair and so he rubbed the white wolf behind the ears and bid him sit when they reached Lord Grafton.
"Lady Visenya…." Lord Gerold Grafton began only for Aemon to interrupt him.
"Queen Visenya," he said firmly.
"Forgive me, your grace." Lord Grafton stuttered.
"We come to seek your surrender, Lord Grafton, once you'd done so then forgiveness may be on the table, until then it is not," Visenya said and Aemon resisted the urge to smile at her, her countenance and bearing wouldn't appreciate it then or there, though later on, she'd find it amusing he felt.
"On behalf of my House, my family, and my city, I humbly kneel and seek only that should you seek more blood, your grace, then it be mine and mine alone." Lord Grafton's words and how shakily he knelt proved that not only was he broken, but he expected to die before the night was done.
"I accept your surrender, Lord Grafton, and we seek no more blood to be shed than that which already has been."
"Gulltown is yours, your grace." Lord Grafton said relieved as he rose back to his feet.
A few hours later, he shared kisses though little else with Visenya in her room. Ghost along with some of Daemon's men were left as her guards while he walked the halls and then the parapets of House Grafton's keep. When he finally took to his bed, he dreamt of a battle in the sea. A battle where both fleets were destroyed and where Daemon Velaryon met his end. He looked on as Visenya and Vhagar brought the fire to the Arryn fleet and as they left Gulltown behind untaken. It was not the battle they'd fought here today, the result was very different and when he woke the next morning, he was certain that the changes made because of his presence were for the better.
Harrenhal 2 BC.
Harren the Black.
He'd been deserted by most of the cowards. His words to them were ignored and had that not been enough to anger him, then seeing them with that dragon cunt had done so. In his hall, he'd offered up Edmyn Tully's daughters to any who'd bring down the dragon. Riches, Rewards, Keeps, and Lordships, he offered it all and there was no shortage of takers or loud voices to claim they'd be the one to see it so. Yet he felt it was bravado, ale, and not with any confidence that the oaths and claims were shouted out loudly.
As the hours passed and the sky darkened, Harren felt his hands begin to sweat and his heart race. An urge to flee, to kneel, and one even stronger than that which bid him live to fight another day, all fought within him and it took all he was to beat each of them down. His walls were thick, they could not be breached, and he had enough supplies to wait out the dragon and the turncloaks that he'd gathered to besiege him.
He had the Drowned God on his side. Though he was far from the open sea and his god had helped his sons not. His boys had succeeded after his forces had lost the Battle of the Reeds. They'd won at the Wailing Willows, only to then find their ends before they could celebrate or enjoy that victory. Had they just managed to steal away, then they'd be here with him and their brothers. Or they'd have harried the dragon's forces as they had marched towards their family keep. Though both had fallen to the Black Dragon and its flames and Harren swore he could hear their voices in his head as night truly began to fall.
"You cannot hide from the Black Dragon, father, you cannot run from it."
"Walls won't save you nor stop it. Stone may not burn but it does melt."
He grabbed a mug of ale and drank it down in one swallow. Then he rose to his feet and walked from the Hall of a Hundred Hearths and to the parapets. Soon enough he was looking down at the lines of tents and men that surrounded his keep. A line that stretched the entire length of the walls and far off into the distance. Seeing the fires that burned sent a shiver down his spine and so he let his anger at the men who stood near those fires be what he concentrated on.
He made plans for men to sneak out and attack during the darkest part of the night. Looked to see the moon covered in clouds and felt the hand of the Drowned God on his shoulder, guiding him, protecting him, and showing him the path to victory. Smiling as he walked back to his rooms, he called for his remaining sons and they sat, drank, and made merry while he told them of his plans to deal with the dragon and avenge their brothers.
Harren was well into his cups when he heard the roar, so much so that it took him some time to realize that was what he'd heard. His first instinct was to run to the men and order them to take the Black Dragon down, yet his eyes were drawn to the hearth and the fire that burned within it. Be it that, fear, or the Drowned God whispering in his ear, he moved not and bid his boys do as he did. All of them stayed in the large hall and though they were surrounded by food and drink, and he felt his throat begin to dry, he partook in neither as the roars grew louder.
At what point he began to sweat he knew not. The sight of his sons removing their clothing confused him and then he was doing the same as them. He felt a warmth of a sort that he'd never felt before. Harren wiped his brow and chest as the sweat ran in rivers down both and looked on as his youngest living son, threw water over his head to cool himself. It worked not. All too soon he felt the heat become unbearable as it almost seemed to press down upon him like a weight that he couldn't remove.
"Father?"
"What fell magic is this?"
"We should not be here."
The voices of his sons that lived were soon joined by those of his sons that did not. Warnings that he'd ignored earlier now ringing even more true.
"You cannot hide from the Black Dragon, father, you cannot run from it."
"Walls won't save you nor stop it. Stone may not burn but it does melt."
He rose to his feet and removed the remainder of his clothing as the heat began to change into something much worse. Standing there with not even his small clothes covering his body, he looked to see the hairs on his arm begin to singe. When he felt the hair on his head catch fire and looked around to see that he was not the only one who was burning, he wondered how this was possible as he'd seen no flames.
As the stone began to melt, he finally realized that his walls had not protected him and had instead trapped him. The thought came to his mind that the one thing he and all who sailed the seas feared the most, was just as true on land as it was upon a ship. Fire was the enemy, the first enemy and the last and fire always wins. Harren fell to his knees, it hurt him to breathe and he was now surrounded by smoke and yet still could see no flames other than the one that burned in the hearth and those that now took hold of the men in the room. His sons were lost to him, they were there somewhere but he could not see them, and then he could see nothing at all.
The final thought he had as he breathed his last was not that he should have knelt. Nor was it that it had been a folly to pull on the dragon's tail. He didn't think of his sons and spared not a moment regretting that he'd not accepted Aegon's offer. Instead, his thought was a simple one and it was one that he never would have imagined ever considering lucidly.
'Why did no one ever tell me that your eyes exploded when you burned to death.'
As the tower melted, those inside it found no respite and no hiding place from Balerion's flames. Not one man who'd sat with Harren that night and bragged about bringing down a dragon had lived to see the dawn the next morning. Those who manned the walls were among the luckiest, as the dragon's flames ended them quickly. Their deaths were almost instant while those who took refuge in the towers took far longer to die and Harren was among the last of them to do so. While the last ever King of the Isles and rivers breathed his last, those outside watched on with awe and horror as Balerion and Aegon went about their work. They did so quietly, as silent as the night and so the sounds of screams, the crackling of the fire, and the crashing of stone as it melted and fell away were heard by one and all. Yet it was the sound of Balerion's roar of victory that each of them would remember for a long time afterward. For it was a sound they all hoped never to hear directed at them.
The Stormlands 2 BC.
Rhaenys Targaryen.
Meraxes had taken her as far as Storm's End itself and she'd seen the full might of the army that King Argillac had managed to gather. She'd taken a look at the great keep itself and was unsure that even Meraxes' flames would be enough to enable them to take it. Yet it seemed as if the gods or fate were on their side and rather than hide behind his walls, the Storm King had decided to march. It would be upon open ground that their two armies would meet. A battle and not a siege that would decide the fate of the Stormlands. So after ensuring there were no forces lying in wait for their own army, she bid Meraxes take her back to Orys and the rest of their men.
That night she spoke to Orys of the ground that lay ahead of them and the army that marched to face them. Though she was not as well versed in battle as Aegon, Visenya, or Aemon, she had understood her part in the one to come. She knew how important it was that her attacks and Orys' were coordinated and so she listened as he spoke of his plans and added little bits to it where needed. It would be almost another week until the two armies covered the ground and so she took to her bed with no worries of ambush or threats of danger to herself or those under her and Meraxes' protection.
For the new few days, she scouted to ensure that things had not changed, and while in the sky she'd find her mind drifting to her family. She feared for them not, and yet she missed them terribly. Even Aemon who she'd not spent much time with. Though mainly it was Visenya and Aegon that her thoughts and worries concerned. Rhaenys wondered if their own battles had already or were yet to take place. Had they already won their victories? Did they seek her aid? Would she see them soon? All these thoughts would flow through her mind until she saw the Storm King's army beneath her and then for a few moments it would be only they that she focussed on. Though as soon as she'd turned and headed back towards Orys and their camp, it would be her family first and foremost in her thoughts once more.
When she saw the hills near Bronzegate, she for some reason took note of them. Their placement and the fact they were between both armies, all of it was something that she wished to speak to Orys about and yet knew not why. After she returned to their army, she ordered food to be given to Meraxes. For even though the Storm King's army was some distance away, she'd not take the chance that they were without a dragon because Meraxes was off hunting elsewhere. As Meraxes ate, Rhaenys had a horse brought to her and with her guards, she then rode to join Orys at the front of the lines.
"All is well, your grace?" Orys asked when she joined him.
"All is well, Orys. They march still with no deviation in their direction."
"So they know of us as we do them," Orys said and she nodded.
"I found a place I think is suitable, though you'd know so better than I," she said as he looked at her curiously.
"No," he said while shaking his head and wearing a smile.
"Orys?"
"You're going to make me fly with you, I know you too well, your grace," Orys said smiling still.
"It's for the best if you see the ground yourself, this way it can be done on the morrow and not in a few days from now."
"Very well," Orys said reluctantly.
They flew the next morning, she and Orys upon Meraxes' back, and only one of them was comfortable and enjoying the flight. It was rare that any of them allowed another to join them on dragon back. Both she and Aegon had shared flights on Balerion and Meraxes, while Visenya to her knowledge had never allowed anyone other than herself upon Vhagar's back. Aemon though had told how he'd taken his children and his wife for flights and how he'd at times used Rhaegal to take those he needed with him as well.
It had given her the idea of doing so with Orys. Yet had she not felt the hills to be so important, then it may not have been something she followed through with. When they finally landed on said hills, she saw how much Orys welcomed being on solid ground and it made her laugh a little. He had almost fallen off Meraxes' back in his eagerness to be able to walk once more, while she had climbed down far more delicately and slowly.
"You were right, this ground is perfect," Orys said as they stood on the tallest of the hills.
"Then we must beat them here and take it for ourselves, Orys," she said to a nod.
Reluctantly he climbed back upon the Silver Dragon and they were soon in the sky once more. This time Rhaenys bid Meraxes fly towards the Storm King's army and had her dragon do two circles of the sky above them, only flying back to their army when Orys bid her do so. When they rejoined their army, Orys bid them march harder and they eventually arrived at the hills with barely a day or two to spare.
Work began immediately on their defenses and she and Meraxes both were surrounded by men and horses as they took one of the hills for their own. She slept beside her dragon rather than in a tent for the two nights that they waited for the battle to begin. On the third day, she woke to heavy rain and strong winds and though she could see little, it was clear that the army they'd been waiting for had arrived. She had then almost laughed at the nature of the storm and its timing.
"The Storm King indeed," she whispered as she wiped the rainwater from her brow.
When the horns rang out they took her by surprise, so certain was she that there could be no attack in such weather. Yet it wasn't a simple attack they faced and as she looked at the horses moving across the ground and at the men nearest her forming up, it was clear that the battle itself was now taking place. Turning to look at Meraxes, she cursed the gods for their timing. There would be no flight today, not in this weather, and for the first time since she'd set out on this campaign, Rhaenys felt some fear. Though she quickly forced it down.
"I'm a dragon and I will see my love again." she resolved as she moved to stand by Meraxes.
The Last Storm 2 BC.
Orys Baratheon.
A fucking storm. Of all things, it would be this that they'd face in these lands. Orys let the thoughts run through his mind before forcing them away for now and concentrating on the one thing that truly needed his attention. He looked at the army that lay in wait some distance from his own and watched as their cavalry rode and rode hard. On another day and in much different weather he'd have worn a large smile on his face. This had been why he'd picked this ground after all. Their defenses were solid and he'd wanted Argillac to come to him.
What he'd not wanted was s fucking storm to be in full effect while they did so. Turning from what was in front of him, he sought the second hill and could barely make out the silver scales of Meraxes atop it. The dragon would not fly today, he knew that and so it would be men and he chief among them who'd earn them their victory or bring about their defeat. Shouting out orders, he formed his shield wall and readied for the cavalry to attack. He then found to his delight that the gods he'd thought had cursed him with the weather and the grounding of the dragon, may yet very well be on his side after all.
"The charge falters, Lord Orys." he heard a voice say and he looked to see that the words spoken were true.
The muddy ground and the wet conditions were not conducive to a cavalry charge. Horses at the front found it difficult for their hooves to find any purchase and some slid rather than charged. Those who were behind fared even worse as the ground had been cut up by those in front. Added to the fact that his own forces were atop hills and it rendered the cavalry almost moot. Any of them unlucky enough to make it to the shield walls that had been erected, quickly found out to their cost that they'd have been better off faltering as the others had long before then.
With his own position under little threat, he turned to see how the rest of their army was faring. Orys did not like what he saw when he did so. While the cavalry had been slowed and in some cases stopped completely, they'd not been defeated and so still remained a threat, lesser though that was. Argilliac's spearmen however had fared so much better and Orys was certain that at least one and mayhap two hills had already been taken. He was seeking the truth of this when he felt the tug on his shoulder and he looked to see to his horror that another hill looked ready to fall. This one being to be the one that Rhaenys herself was atop of.
"We march to our queen's aid, we do so now. Leave the defenses. To arms! To arms!" he shouted his words out so loudly that they were heard even over the storm and his men listened and acted immediately.
While he'd not wished to abandon his position, he had planned for it. So it was to the rear of the hill and not the front of it that he and his men quickly made their way to. They would still need to fight their way to Rhaenys and the rest of their men, but there was open ground between them too and they had no fear of archers or arrows, given the weather. Leaving the horses behind, they moved as quickly across the soggy ground as they could without risking losing their footing and arrived at the rear of the force that was attacking the hill.
Ahead of him, he saw a man fight like ten and though he couldn't be certain, he believed him to be King Argillac himself. Age was no barrier to his fierceness and on another day, he'd have been more impressed than he was now. Or mayhap he'd have simply allowed himself to be impressed more. For now, all he could think of was reaching the man and bringing him to his knees and hoping he did so before Argillac reached his queen. With sword in hand, he was soon proving himself a match for even Argillac's own ferocity. As many men fell or were swept away by the furious swings of Orys' Greatsword.
How many he struck down, he knew not. More than five and less than ten, yet he was nowhere close to being done for the day. When the large man came at him with the hammer, Orys ducked under it, and using his body, he forced the man to the ground. He ended him with a dagger in the neck and then rose to his feet to block a blow with a Morningstar. At points during the fighting he was engaged in, he swore he heard Meraxes roar, but he could see no sight of Rhaenys or the Silver Dragon. Something which fuelled him somewhat and forced him ever forward.
"Die Dragonlover." a shout rang out and Orys once again found himself face to face with a man wielding a hammer.
This one was more skilled and so the fight took longer. Orys winning it not because of superior strength or power, but because of the conditions they fought in. A slip on the muddy wet ground cost a brave man his life and ensured that Orys got to breathe a little longer. On and on he moved, forward ever forward. Each step he took brought him a new foe to face and around him men fell from both sides, his and Argillac's.
When he finally saw the Storm King again, he found he'd been right. It had been he who'd fought like ten men and he was doing so now as well. He would admit later to have had some admiration for the man at that moment. Some sense of camaraderie. Although it was tempered by the knowledge that should he bring him to his knees, then this battle would be ended. Looking past Argillac, he then saw a sight that he'd remember for the rest of his life. There atop Meraxes sat Rhaenys Targaryen and while the dragon was not in the air, she was still magnificent to see. Meraxes moved across the ground almost gracefully and any man unlucky to find themselves in her path found her flames, but only if they were lucky. If they were not then it was tooth and claw that brought about their end. With the knowledge that Rhaenys was as safe as she could be, he turned his attention back to Argillac Durrandon.
"Argillac, face me. Face me and let this be an end to it," he shouted and the Storm King responded in kind.
King Argillac Durrandon.
He'd wished not to believe the raven, sure it was some ploy to strike fear into his heart. Harrnehal had fallen to the dragons and Harren the Black was dead. His great stone walls had not been enough to save him or his family and Argillac had resolved not to share the same fate. It was why he'd marched rather than waited for the Targaryen army to arrive at Storm's End. His worry for himself was quickly overshadowed by his worry for his daughter.
Were he to fall in battle it would be one thing, were he to try and hold Storm's End and fall, another. So they had marched and marched hard and at times he'd look to the sky almost certain that the dragon was overhead. Though he never saw sight nor heard sound of it as they did so. When he had felt the air begin to cool, it brought a smile to his face. He knew the weather of his own lands far better than any and the cool air told him that a storm was brewing. Something that was proved to be true when they had finally reached where the Targaryen army had formed up.
Years of experience told him that he'd be a fool to launch an attack on the defensive positions that the dragons had taken up. To ride a cavalry up a hill was folly, he knew it, his men knew it, and given their defenses, the Targaryens knew it. Yet the opportunity for victory was a fleeting one. He knew that he had the numbers and the advantage in a straight fight. He'd more horse and knights than the Targaryens, even if they held the higher ground. The dragon however was an unknown quantity to him and If the raven regarding Harrenhal was true, then it was something that would be more than a match for his superior numbers.
So despite it being against all logic and known military tactics, he ordered the charge and then cursed the ground and the storm as much as he'd welcomed it earlier. Were it not for his spearmen, then he'd already have lost the day. But their own march was far more successful and it gave his cavalry the time to regroup and press forward once more. Ignoring some of the other hills, he then concentrated everything on one of the larger ones. His scouts had told him that Rhaenys Targaryen herself was atop it and it was too big an opportunity for him to turn down. Should he capture the so-called Queen of Westeros, then Aegon would be forced to negotiate for true. Argillac would wring a heavy price in ransom for her return, and it was the thoughts of this which fuelled him and made him feel a young man once more.
"Die you dragon fuck." he shouted from his horse as he killed yet another of the men who stood against him.
"For the King! For King Argillac!" he heard his men say as the fourth of their charges finally broke through the center.
He could almost taste it. The victory was so close that he could almost reach out and touch it. If he closed his eyes he could smell it and after killing yet another man, he did so but briefly. It wasn't victory that he smelt, however, instead, it was the burning of flesh and he opened his eyes to look on in horror. There atop a silver dragon sat a woman who could only be Rhaenys Targaryen. She looked exactly what she was, a Dragonqueen, and beneath her, the dragon was decimating his van. Argillac looked on as Dickon Morrigen and the Bastard of Blackhaven were covered in flames as were most of the men nearest them.
The Silver Dragon though was not quite done and it began to move across the ground, its flames loosed at any in its path. He felt the wave of heat and saw the steam come up from the ground where the rain had formed small puddles. One moment he was atop his horse and the next he was coughing and spluttering as he rose from the wet ground and struggled to his feet. His personal guards were dead or dying and he had to fight down the urge to flee. Somehow he found the strength of will from deep inside himself and he kept fighting on through the battle that he now felt was long since lost.
Still, he cut through men as if they were nothing. His fury belying his age as men far younger than him would have attested to had they lived to do so. Argillac had no idea of what was happening around him, the battle could have stopped and he was the only one still fighting for all he knew. Yet fight on he did and when he heard the loud shout after he'd taken down another man who'd sought his end, he turned to see a tall dark-haired and blue-eyed man look his way.
"Argillac, face me. Face me and let this be an end to it." the man shouted arrogantly.
"If you wish to be sent to your gods, then you've chosen the right day and the right man to see it so," he shouted back as he moved to the man.
"Your army is beaten, Argillac, kneel and my king will be merciful."
"It is far better to die with a sword in your hand and standing tall than to be disarmed and on your knees, boy."
"Then you've chosen the right day and the right man to see it so." the man replied and Argillac almost smirked at the use of his own words back to him.
The two swords met and the strength of the man he faced was made clear to him. Ducking from a fierce blow, he pushed at the younger man and almost caused him to lose his footing. Though he recovered quickly and forced Argillac back with the heavy swings of his Greatsword. He felt himself tiring, the exertion of the day and the sheer number of fights he'd had, all taking their toll on him. Giving it all he had, he readied for one final attack. One that would either win him the day or cost him it and all the ones that were to follow.
As he parried blow after blow, he waited for the perfect moment to use the dagger that was strapped to his waist. So concentrated was he on this that it almost cost him his life more than once and when the chance finally arrived, he found to his dismay that the man he faced had been waiting for it too. The dagger hit home but nowhere near where he wished it to and though he'd wounded his foe, he'd not wounded him near enough to win him the day. Which was more than could be said about his own wound. Argillac's blow had caught the man he faced across the shoulder, the man's blow had caught him beneath his own.
Falling to his feet, he knew his day and his life was coming to an end. When his sword fell, he stumbled trying to reach it, and felt the blade on his neck.
"Your time is done, I'll have your word that you accept your fate and see that your end is the one you wished it to be." the dark-haired man said.
"Your name?" he asked.
"Orys Baratheon."
He looked at Orys, this man who'd been offered to him as a Goodson when it had been a dragon he'd sought for one. Tall, dark of hair, and a warrior through and through. Had he been a less proud man then he'd have gladly given this man his daughter's hand.
"You have my word." he said as he was helped to his feet and Orys led him to his sword "Make it quick," he said as he took the sword in his hand and felt almost unable to hold it.
"It was an honor to cross blades with you, your grace," Orys said and then he drove his dagger under his chin and Argillac was no more.
Winterfell 2 BC.
Torrhen Stark.
He'd called the banners and they'd responded as he'd expected them to do so. The Lords of the North had come out in force and as he looked out from the window of his solar, he could see the rows of tents stretching as far as the eye could see. Brandon had told him that they'd gathered about half their men, with more set to join them as they marched south, if they marched south. For he still hadn't decided if that was to be the course of action that he'd take.
If it was just for the dragons and their intentions for the North, then he'd have no hesitation in doing so. The White Wolf gave him pause though and had even delayed him in calling the banners in the first place. He believed, as Brandon did, that the man who Beric had encountered would make his way to them. Yet it seemed that for now at least, he, like the dragons themselves, was too busy bringing the South to heel.
Readying himself for the meeting that was to be held in the Great Hall that night, Torrhen was soon second-guessing his plans once more and so he took his time to steady himself. He couldn't seem to be conflicted or to be unsure of the path the Lords of the North set him on, even if he truly was. It had been partly why he'd sent Brandon to sup with those who'd arrived and to do so in a less formal way than he would have to. His brother was more able to sit and speak to them without the need to answer their questions on his intent and Torrhen envied him for it.
Leaving his solar, he nodded to his guards and made his way to the Great Hall, the Crown of Winter was on his head and his sword was on his hip. Ice it was not, yet it had served him well and would do so again he had no doubt. The noise from behind the large doors was clear sign of the revelry that his Bannermen enjoyed so much. Torrhen was happy that Winterfell was fully stocked with both food and ale and happier still that whatever was decided this night, those stocks would be diminished no more after it. As the doors opened and he walked inside, the noise that had been almost deafening now quietened to a hush. Torrhen made his way to the Winter Throne and took his place upon it. Brandon left his seat to take his place to his right and while his brother poured him a mug of ale, Torrhen looked out at his Bannermen and began to speak.
"My Lords of the North, once again Winterfell has called and you have answered. Once again we face a threat to us that needs to be responded to. Aegon Targaryen seeks dominion not just over the lands of the South, but our lands too. He names himself King of all the Seven Kingdoms. So no doubt in the halls of Highgarden, Sunspear and Casterly Rock, meetings such as this have or are taking place. I've called you and sought you to bring your men to bear and yet I've made no decision on whether it's to war or to shore up the North that we march. Instead, I seek your counsel and intend to be ready to do as you bid me to." he said as firmly as he could.
The voices around the room were loud and the Umbers loudest of all. Beric rose to his feet and named him as the only king he intended to kneel to. Lord Marlon preached caution and did so not because he was craven but clever. While Lord Karlon Karstark shouted loudly and proudly that he intended to stick his giant ax up a dragon's arse. There were boasts, claims, some worried voices and some far too proud and Torrhen listened to them all before Brandon rose to his feet and the room quietened for his brother's words.
"We sought no fight with the dragons and we care not for the South and its wars. We are men and women of the North and were this just a normal enemy that we face I'd counsel my king to shore up our borders and break them like we did the Andals who sought to conquer us and found out to their cost what folly that was." Brandon said to loud laughs.
Torrhen looked to the faces of those around the room, knowing there were many whose own decisions would be based on Brandon's words and not on what others, even he himself, spoke of.
"I say if there is to be a fight against the dragons, then let it be on lands far from here. Let them not besmirch the North with their spilled blood. For we wish no part of them here, not even their bodies when they fall." Brandon said to even louder cheers.
His brother had an easy way of speaking that he did not. Brandon's words weren't encumbered by the crown on his head and while they carried weight, they could be listened to and ignored should anyone wish to do so. As king, his own could not. Torrhen knew he could rise to his feet and make the choice for each and every man in this room. Some may bristle over it, moan and bitch about it when they were in their cups, but all would accept it. If he was certain in his course of action, then he'd do so. Alas, he was not and so when he rose, it was with a question rather than an order.
"What would you have me do, my lords? What does the North seek?"
"War!"
"Freedom!"
"Death to the Dragons!"
Once again the voices were loud and yet this time they were united too. Be it that they'd already decided upon their course of action from the moment he'd called them to Winterfell, or they'd listened to words spoken this and other nights and come to a decision because of it, it mattered not. The Lords of the North had spoken and a march to war it was to be.
"Then tonight we feast and make merry, for on the morrow we march to war!" he said loudly.
He drank sparingly at first, looking to his brother and to the faces of his Lealest Lords. Seeing if any of them doubted the choice that had been made and he found that none of them did. As the feast died down, it was to the Godswood that he found himself walking to and not to his bed. Brandon walked beside him as they made their way to the Heart Tree and knelt to offer their prayers to the Old Gods. Both of them prayed that this was the right and only choice and that the gods would look over their people as they had always done.
Sleep eventually came to him a few hours later. Dreams of dragons and of a white wolf and he found himself kneeling by what to him looked like the Heart Tree at Moat Cailin while beside him a dark-haired and grey-eyed man did the same. He saw the man rub his hand over the white fur of a giant Direwolf and though he could hear him not, he saw his lips move as he spoke words to him. Words that seemed to be welcomed given the look on his face as he listened to them. Then he watched as man and wolf climbed upon a green dragon's back and took to the sky, the sight an impressive one and yet one that filled him with some fear too.
Even when he woke, he still felt somewhat fearful and it was not until he'd broken his fast, said his goodbyes to his sons, and they'd set off on their march that he felt any different. That he did so was because of the man who rode by his side and the words he spoke to him. Lord Jojen Reed had spoken little at the previous night's meeting. The small Cranngoman had kept to his own company and counsel. He'd risen when they all had, declared himself a true son of the North as they all had, yet he'd spoken not. Now as he rode beside him, he spoke little still, but what he said was enough for Torrhen for now.
"The White Wolf comes and we march to meet him, my king. To meet and greet and not to fight. For as impressive an army as this is and soon will be, it's a far smaller one than he's seen to the ends of. Yet it's not our end he seeks and the tale he'll tell is one I most long to hear." Jojen said.
"You believe him to be true? To be the White Wolf of legend and tale?"
"No." Jojen said surprising him "I know him to be one and the same. The Old Gods have sent him our way, my king and you, me and the rest of the men who march, we serve them as does he."
Gulltown 2 BC.
Aemon.
The hawk flew over Harrenhal, it looked down on the Great Keep and allowed him to see firsthand just what Balerion had done. In his own time, Aemon had walked the ground of Harrenhal, he'd spoken to Lady Shella Whent, and had seen the melted stone of the towers. Yet to see it this soon after Balerion had let loose his flames, was to see the true devastation that dragons were capable of. Even more so than the burned ships that Rhaegal and Vhagar had left in their wake in the seas off Gulltown, Harrenhal showed the true power of a dragon's flames. It was why almost three hundred years later, it still stood as a reminder of what happened when your hubris made you pull on a dragon's tail.
Through the hawk's eyes, he looked for and soon found the Black Dragon and Aegon himself. Both were unharmed, not that he had feared that either would be. Still to see it with his own eyes, or through the hawk's, would allow for him to be able to relay the news to Visenya and for that news to be more than simply because it had been what had happened in his past. The line between that being his past and it now being his present, was one that he and Visenya herself both were having enough difficulty with as it was.
With Aegon and Balerion accounted for, it was to a gull and the Stormlands that his warging took him next. He'd tried to see the battle itself, but the storm that had given it its name had not allowed for the gull to fly over the grounds. Now though that storm had cleared and he looked for and soon found, Rhaenys and Meraxes. Both of them were as unharmed as they had been according to the books he'd read after he'd been named a king. Orys bore an injury, though it was not serious and it was one that he should recover from. Aemon then found a thought in his head that sent him from the bird and back to the hill that he and Visenya were sat upon.
"All is well? Must we fly to them?" Visenya asked worriedly and Aemon shook his head at the latter before realizing from Visenya's expression that she took it to be the former that he was referring to.
"All is well. Aegon, Rhaenys, and their dragons are unharmed and have won their victories." he said "Orys took a wound, though it's not a serious one." he added a moment later.
"Thanks be to the gods," Visenya said relieved, and then she caught his expression.
"What?"
"A memory that I need to ponder more on," he said and she looked at him curiously.
"Aems?" she said softly and he smiled as he moved closer to her, the affectionate way she said his name stirring something in him.
"Orys, I remembered something about Orys," he said as he kissed her cheek.
"About him now or in the future?"
"The past actually," he said with a chuckle which brought him a frown from her in response. "Very well, the future then," he said and while it changed her expression, it didn't bring a smile to her face.
"What happened to him?"
"He loses his hand. His sword hand. I can't yet remember the exact details of it, only that it happened in Dorne and during the First Dornish War." he said.
"The First? There was more than one?"
"Not exactly. Dorne's history is complicated, it caused issues for our House in resisting and even when it did not. Daeron the Young Dragon finally conquered it, but not until more than one hundred and fifty years for now and even that didn't truly bring it under our control. The Dornish fight war as it should be fought. They give no quarter and use whatever means they can to win. Ambushes, breaking parley, poison, and the lands themselves. All is fair in love and war, Har!, as the saying goes."
"Who says such a thing?" Visenya asked while smirking at him.
"Tormund Giantsbane, a man of the Free Folk and one I was proud to name a friend," he said fondly.
"This is why you're so keen on bringing Dorne to heel sooner rather than later then. Rhaenys, Orys, the issues it caused for our House."
"Aye, it is. As I said, I know not why I was sent back here, other than to ensure our House grows as strong as it can and that I can change the fates of some of our kin."
"Rhaenys."
"Yours too," he said looking at her and he swore she blushed as she looked away from him.
Ghost arrived then carrying two rabbits and so Aemon lit the fire and cooked them over it, the two of them eating in silence and almost waiting for night to fall. They were in the Vale but not too far from Gulltown. Alone other than Ghost and the two dragons. It had felt like an age since they'd lain together and he was not the only one who wished for them to do so. Something that became even more apparent when they'd eaten and night finally began to fall.
Being outside, their coupling was more rushed than either of them would truly have wished for. Yet it was as satisfying as it had been since the first time they'd done so. Afterward, he lay with Visenya in his arms, his fingers softly stroking her hair as she rested her head on his chest. Some nights they'd speak for hours on end when they'd lain together, others they'd lie in silence until sleep took them. Tonight it seemed to be the latter and when he felt her relax even more fully against him, he knew she'd drifted off to sleep.
"Sweet dream, my love," he said softly as he too closed his eyes.
The army marched, the full might of the North, and the voices were loud and angered. There would be no quarter given or asked for, no acceptance of terms. Loud words were shouted and boasts were made. How they'd beat the dragons back to their island, bring them down from the sky with their Weirwood bows, and send Aegon and his sister-wives to the seven hells that they belonged in. It was the king's brother who stirred their anger, his words being listened to more so than Torrhen's, and not even the word of what had happened to those who'd faced their armies before they did was given much consideration.
Across a field, the pride of the North stood and readied to charge. 30,000 men facing off against an army that was their match in numbers and actually was larger by half again. Yet the Northmen cared not, they feared not, and were this a battle against men alone, then they'd mayhap have a point. As they charged though, it was clear it was not men that would bring about their defeat this day, and the four dragons that swept over the field brought with them naught but a fiery death.
He woke with a start, almost pushing Visenya off him in his haste to rise to his feet. This was not how things were meant to go, this was not what had happened. Something had changed and he needed to change it back, to fix it, right it. For if he did not, then the North was doomed and not just in the present but in the future too.
"Aemon?"
"I need to fly to the North, I need to stop them," he said as she rose, and without breaking their fast, they were soon in the air and flying to Moat Cailin to stop a battle before it took place.
A/N: Thanks to all who've read and reviewed. Up next: Storm's End comes under siege as its lady faces the truth of her father's death. Aemon and Visenya stop off in Harrenhal before Aemon flies on to Moat Cailin. Aegon and Visenya argue and a truth is revealed while in the North the White Wolf and the Winter King meet for the first time.
For those following my other fics, The Last Wolf and the return (finally) of The Dark Prince are up next.
Guest: Glad to hear it, In time I will, some of my others are nearing their end and this one has a long way to go.
Celexys: The changes are a big thing and will be a running theme through the other books in the series, Aemon though isn't omnipotent so we may see some changes for the worse too. As you see here with the North, he's seen a path that he can't allow to happen.
Zhovrak: Hmmm, interesting.
Dorordigo: I'm glad you're enjoying it. I'm happy to say that I've not yet fallen out of love with writing, I had feared with the Pandemic basically over and done with, in terms of the lockdowns anyway that I might or that I might run out of ideas, thankfully though I still find myself excited to write more. Essos will play a part in this, won't say more than that, but it will play a part. In terms of Aegon/Visenya, were getting close to a boiling point there.
Xan Merrick: Thanks my friend and yes it will indeed. We'll see the Dance of Dragons, the Blackfyre Rebellions, Robert's Rebellion, and the canon timeline all in some fashion in the other books, will all things come together, hopefully, tied in a neat little bow at the end. I want each book to be both a self-contained story and yet to have this running connection through them so they'd work as one larger overarching one too.
Anja: So glad you liked it.
Dunk: It has, with some of the changes they're sort of minor in a way, as there is almost no need for his presence if you get me. This is why he didn't go to Harrenhal or Storm's End, but instead to Gulltown and why Dorne will be a huge thing for him. Other changes we'll see, but all of them are designed to make it so that House Targaryen is stronger than it has ever been when we get to Aemon's own timeline. Harlan never marched to the Field of Fire, he remained back in Highgarden, but yes the Lannister/Gardeners are both guilty of hubris. In one way though it's somewhat understandable as dragons hadn't yet been unleashed on Westeros, and Aegon had a very small army, but it cost them dearly.
We're dealing with the North next, so it'll be interesting to see how right you are, but yes the White Wolf plays a big part in things. With Dorne, Aemon himself feels the need to be ruthless and both Aegon and Visenya will be going into it with a completely different mindset because of the knowledge of Rhaenys' death. So there will be somewhat of a Dragons Wroth though one unleashed early.
MSKN: That's the exact plan. It's a series of books, that takes us right back to Aemon's timeline. So we have Book One which is the conquest and Book Two which will be the Dance, 3 will be the Blackfyres, and 4 Robert's Rebellion, and finally 5. The canon timeline that Aemon fought the NK in. Now how all will tie into each other and what happens because of the changes, we'll find out as we go along, but each one will I hope be able to be read separately and have a start, middle, end, but also be able to be read and be a part of the whole series. So will all be tied together at the end in Book Five.
Durran: Tu deseo es mi orden, espero que lo disfrutes y pronto veremos caer algunos tontos.
Varvara11:Wir werden sehen, Aemon wird rücksichtslos sein, wenn es um Dorne geht.
Creativo: La muerte de Rhaeny fue solo una parte del éxito de Dorne y una pequeña parte. Fueron sus tácticas más que matar a un dragón lo que impidió que Aegon los conquistara.
Hulkbuster: So glad you're liking it. We will be seeing him go Beyond the Wall and seeking to do something with the Free Folk. At first, his main focus is not just ensuring that the Conquest goes as planned, but to fix little moments within it, such as saving Daemon Velaryon from dying as he did in canon. Rhaenys too obviously. But yes, he will at some point seek to do something with the Free Folk too, since his whole goal is to make things easier for himself in his own timeline.
Don't worry about the planning, I've spent probably more time plotting out this set of stories than I have for any of my others, which usually are just a main plot and then some plot points, so have more freedom to go where they may go. On this, I've plotted out all five of the books, discarded some ideas because of the Butterfly Effect, and solidified the premise that ties it all together. Without spoiling too much, the second book will clarify a lot, that's set during the Dance Timeline, but I can't say more than this. All the books will work as both self-contained fics, so a start, middle, and end, and as one larger tied-in fic with almost five arcs.
Things such as Maegor not being born or how doing x in one timeline affects y in another were what gave me the most problems with this, as you say the Grandfather Paradox and contradicting yourself, or running into a brick wall because you've changed this or that, that kept me up at night at times. Halfway through writing The Dragon Cub, the idea came to me for this and I knew it was to be my next big story thing, where it would be somewhat a match for TDC in terms of scope and size, not exactly but close enough. So the last year of posting and writing TDC, my spare time was plotting this out and it was only once it was done, that I even considered posting this. Now I may have made a huge mistake and it all comes crashing down, god I hope not lol, but it has been planned out and I look forward to hearing from you as we go along.