The moment that Rhaegal had breathed his flames, she knew that it was unlikely she would ever see her two more tame dragons ever again, at least not on terms that were her own. Her emerald child had never lashed out at her in the way he had before, and Viserion had never attempted to get away from her. Though she showed Drogon more favor, Viserion had always been the sweeter of the three.
"A dragon is not a slave." She remembered that was what she had preached to the slave masters of Astapor when they had tried to take Drogon as payment for the Unsullied, in chains as if he were a tamed beast to be commanded by anyone. "A dragon is not a slave." She knew better than anyone that a dragon would resist restraint, that it would refuse to be held back when it could be free. That a dragon would refuse to have its wings constrained.
Yet, despite her being the closest to an expert these days on dragons, more than any maester who had forged their chains, she had tried to put her children in their own chains. She knew, with great shame, if Drogon hadn't flown off and he were willing to follow her, she likely would've had him join them as well. She remembered the stories of what happened to her ancestors dragons, of how they had been chained up in her ancestors attempts to control them and keep the people safe. It lead to the slaughter of several dragons in the pits, and the last dragons being sickly and small, dying young.
She was ready to doom them to the same fate, without giving them a chance to become better. It broke her heart knowing what would've happened to them if they hadn't thought to run from her. It broke her further knowing they HAD to run from her. After all, she had been ready to perform an act that would cut off potential centuries off their lifespan, leaving them to suffer and waste away until nothing remained of them.
'In the names of whatever fucking gods are out there, what have I done?!' The thought itself was obviously rhetorical. She had pushed away two of the things most precious to her, while the third had seemingly left her simply to do as he pleased. Yet many issues came with losing her dragons, besides the grief she found herself falling into within her pyramid, laying alone on her bed as she thought of the consequences of what she had done.
The Unsullied and Second Sons were doing their best in their attempts to police the city, ten thousand hardened men tended to make sure peace was established. A few of the locals had even joined the Second Sons to become a part of her army, their own way of thanking her for what she did. Even more were gathering men to create a proper police force, easing the stress upon herself and her army, which she gladly ensured received proper funding. But that wasn't her main worry.
It was these "Sons of the Harpy", men who were dissatisfied with her rule and the choices she'd made. A few Unsullied and Second Sons had already been killed, and she feared that this trend would continue for as long as she stayed in Mereen. She had discussed the matter with her council earlier, of why they were striking and why they chose now. The answer seemed obvious once it was given, and she knew exactly why she didn't think of it.
She had been trying to avoid thinking of it in the first place. No mother wanted to think of the wrong they had done to their children after all.
"Your Grace," Ser Barristan had started, "It isn't all too surprising that such a radical group like this would rise up under your reign. You took away a very important part of their economy which made it thrive, something that was a part of their culture and their traditions, and threw everything into disarray. On top of that, you crucified several of their noblemen for all too see. Even if its for the sake of justice, you're still new to them. It makes you appear cruel, tyrannical even." She remembered at the time that she had ignored Ser Barristans advice at the time, to answer injustice with mercy. It appears her temper and need for a quick punishment had made her reckless.
It didn't need to be said that it made it seem as if she was following in her fathers footsteps, his reputation for cruelty having even made it across the narrow sea. The rumors of his cruelty were just as terrible in Essos, if not worst. She once heard someone claim that he enjoyed eating the charred hearts of the people he executed while beating small children.
Later she had realized exactly how her actions could be taken, and had felt disgust pool in her stomach and make her feel nauseous with self loathing at the most prominent thought that popped into her mind.
Her fathers pride at her cruelty for the sake of justice.
To further add onto things, Ser Jorah had spoken out as well, the aging bear looking apologetic as he spoke, "On top of all that Khaleesi, you no longer have control of any of your dragons. Even at their young age and relatively small size, they were still a threat. They represented your power, the woman who brought dragons back into the world. With two of them having been spotted fleeing the pyramid, and Drogon having not been seen for the past few days, they believe you to be the Mother of Dragons no longer. Now your greatest weapons to retake your throne, and your greatest deterrent against your enemies, is gone."
Her dragons leaving her left her in an extremely tough spot. Now she didn't have the strength needed to bring the Seven Kingdoms to heel if it came to all out warfare. One of the main factors they had been relying on was the strength of her dragons once they grew to full size, knowing Aegon had been able to take the kingdoms by storm with his three dragons, and at the time he held the allegiance of none but the minor valyrian houses that survived the doom. She'd have the valyrian houses, her army, and potentially Dorne. But that had all partially relied on her three dragons.
Ten thousand men, no matter how good they were, weren't nearly enough to take and hold onto the Iron Throne, even if she recieved another thirty thousand from Dorne. Dornes armies wouldn't be enough to fight against the combined forces of the Reach and Westerlands, two of the richest kingdoms and the ones with the largest armies. She'd lose without her dragons, unless she went and gathered more forces. It helped that ever since occupying Mereen a rough hundred men had joined their forces from the city and surrounding villages, with a few hundred men from Astapor and Yunkai joining her as well, but it wasn't nearly enough.
Adding onto her woes were the rumors of a "King Aegon", the rightful king of the seven kingdoms, with the Golden Company. Supposedly her eldest brothers eldest son had apparently never died, and last she had heard, was working to gather the support of the golden company among a few other sell sword companies to prepare his own war within the seven kingdoms while everything was still in chaos due to the ongoing war of the five kings. She wasn't all too sure of how legitimate his claims were, and if he truly was her nephew long thought dead, but there was currently nothing that could truly disprove his claim either. The only things that could strengthen it would be to marry her, or if one of her dragons took a special liking to him.
She wasn't quite sure why, but she doubted her dragons had gone to Aegon XI Targaryen. Drogon had always been special to her, and she'd always been closer to him than any of the others, despite how sweet Viserion could be. And judging on where her other two were last seen flying, it was unlikely they were going to join Aegon, if they'd had the desire they would've likely gone to join him sooner rather than later when presented with no other option.
Regardless, she knew at this point if she wanted to return to Westeros, she had to either bide her time and gather her forces, and hope that beyond all odds her dragons returned to her. Otherwise, she'd be forced to marry her nephew to join their two forces. Put together, they'd have an army of at least thirty thousand, along with elephants mixed in. And the funding to buy even more, on top of potential loyalist support from Dorne and houses in the Crownlands.
As her thoughts further spiraled at the consequences of losing all three of her children, despite how little faith she had in the supposed gods that looked over these lands, she knew she at least had to try.
'R'hllor... Old Gods, the Seven, Drowned God, whichever forsaken god is out there. Despite the hell you're sure to bring me, please. Please just keep my family safe.' She could only hope that for once, her prayers wouldn't go completely unanswered.
For just this once, the dragon queen would find her prayers answered. She just didn't know it quite yet.
"I despise this mummers act we have to play. I hate how we have to treat him, and I hate even more how we have to lie to him. To have him think he is nothing more than a bastard in need of honor, in need of worth." Ser Alliser was once more alone with maester Aemon to give the old Targaryen his misgivings on his plan to hide from him the truth until the battle for the wall had ended. The only reason he was comfortable speaking with Aemon was that normally they had his keep and the rookery above them cleared out before they spoke. Aemons stewards were supposed to keep others away and not bother them until they were done.
He knew the potential was there to unbalance him, but he was beginning to get more worried over the possibility of him dying before he could be told. Before he had the chance to know the truth, to know the true nature of his father and to know he wasn't born of a moment of weakness. It was the least that the boy deserved in Thornes eyes, being the only shame Jon currently bared.
Aemon only gave him the slightest of nods, the ancient maester knowing all too well his feelings on the matter, "I am quite aware of how you feel, Ser Alliser. You have never failed to tell me just how much you dislike our current position. It doesn't change anything though. You've seen him fight, do you truly have so little doubt in his skill to think that a few wildlings could kill him?"
Despite how little he wanted to admit it, he knew that he was right. Taking into account all the excellent swordsman he had already seen in his life, Jons own father included, he could already tell the rightful king was one of the best. It seemed his time with the wildlings had helped him improve as well, instilling a sort of ferocity and timed aggression that he simply didn't seem to have before in a fight. He begrudgingly nodded his agreement, despite the maesters blindness, "Aye, you're right. I doubt there's many wildlings that could actually kill him on their own, but they have numbers. They have giants. If he ends up having to face too many on his own, or a giant, he's done for."
"All the more reason not to tell him. What if he falters in the face of such an insurmountable enemy due to the knowledge of his parentage?" Aemon countered sharply, a small frown settling upon his features, "If before he thinks to dodge a strike that could kill him, his mind flutters to the parents he never got to know? Wondering if this would be how he got to know them? Use common sense, Ser Alliser. We need to be patient."
'You need to be patient.' That was obviously what he meant, but it seems he didn't want to shame him and make him feel foolish, even if their conversation was being had in private. If anyone had the right to be impatient, it was Aemon. There was always the chance at this point that he could pass in his sleep long before he had the chance to spend some time with his great grand nephew, as his family. Not as another man of the watch.
And so, sighing once more with resignation, the knight nodded his head in acceptance and resignation, "As you say, maester. Though speaking of his parentage, what do you think of the latest reports? Of a pair of dragons supposedly making their way north?" The old knight hadn't been quite sure of what to make of the reports when he had first received them, one of those reports being from one of the wandering recruiters for the watch.
Aemon nodded at Alliser, looking over to where those very reports had been left on his desk. It hadn't taken too long for news of two seemingly wild dragons having made their way to Westeros, once enough people had seen them and confirmed them to be the legendary beasts of old. Several maesters from larger and smaller holds had sent word to the rest of the kingdoms, with another raven from the maesters confirming matters for them.
The maester was, admittedly, a bit excited to know a pair of dragons had come to the seven kingdoms. Upon hearing they were heading North, instead of going to warmer lands such as Dorne, he figured out what exactly the two dragons were doing, "If I had to guess, I would say they are coming here. If they are no longer serving my niece for whatever reason, it is to come here to seek out my nephew. My own presence may have been a small incentive as well, though I doubt it.
"Ah, if only I still had my sight. How amazing it would be to see dragons once more in my day and age." The maester said wistfully, for a moment looking up at the ceiling of his quarters. Thorne stayed silent and allowed the maester to have his thoughts for the moment, understanding how he felt on the matter. Especially considering his brothers failure at Summerhall.
"Maester, the question remains, what are we going to do if these two dragons arrive? Ever since Roose became Warden of the North, we've received less support than ever. I'm unsure if we even have the supplies to feed a pair of dragons adequately." That was his main concern. Mainly because he didn't want the dragons to descend on the few horses the watch had in their hunger, or worse, the brothers of the watch itself.
The maester only shook his head as an amused smile formed on his lips, "Considering how large they are, I assume they are more than capable of hunting for themselves at this point. Besides, dragons are highly intelligent beasts. They won't just attack and kill without reason, especially not if they are coming to be with Jon as I suspect they are. No, at worst it would simply take Jon asking them not to kill, and so they would resort to hunting. We have little reason to worry."
Thorne had considered further contesting the maesters point, but decided not to knowing the old man was stubborn. And truth be told, who was he to argue with a Targaryen maester, a man who had extensive knowledge of dragons under his belt? If he claimed the dragons wouldn't cause any trouble for the watch, then he would believe him for the time being.
Though it didn't make him any less wary of what they could do. He could only hope that his king would be more than capable of bringing them to heel. After all, if there was any man left in Westeros that would be capable of taming dragons, it would be Aenar Targaryen.
Outside the door of maester Aemons chambers stood Samwell, frozen in shock at the conversation he had overheard. He hadn't been there for the entirety of the discussion, and it wasn't exactly in his nature to eavesdrop after all. He was no spy. But he couldn't help but be curious at their mentions of parentage and dragons heading up north when he had gone to knock on the door, and after his curiosity had been peaked he reasoned with himself that he'd already begun to listen in anyway.
What he'd heard had been... interesting, to say the least. At first, the steward wasn't quite sure to make of the conversation, and then wondered exactly why no one had been around to prevent him from coming to the maester. Though, as he thought about it, he supposed it wasn't too unlikely that the other stewards were meant to keep people away, and he knew better than anyone that Aemons other stewards were subpar at best in their duties.
He shook himself from his thoughts as he realized he was beginning to get off track, despite not even being in a conversation with anyone. He'd have to break himself of that habit at some point. Before he went and got too invested in his own thoughts, he left the keep to go and seek out Jon. If there was anyone who would be able to help him make sense of what exactly Aemon and Thorne had been discussing, it would be Jon.
He was sure that his best friend would want to know that another Targaryen besides the maester was residing at the wall.
Cersei stared over the blackwater bay and the city of Kings Landing with a blank gaze, rage boiling in her veins even now, the intensity rivaling that of the dragonfire that left Harrenhal in ruin. It had been several days at this point, but that didn't cool the anger that her fathers death brought. He may have had his flaws and was a terrible father, but he was what built their reputation. More importantly, he WAS the reputation.
With Tywin Lannister gone, she knew her enemies would be more emboldened than ever to strike, especially if they heard in the humiliating manor in which he died. Shot in the privy with a crossbow by his youngest son, while he was in the middle of taking a shit. It didn't help at all that his youngest son was a disfigured dwarf that had just been condemned to die. And she was more than sure that word would eventually spread of the humiliating manor in which he was found.
As well as the whore in his bedchamber that had been murdered. She cursed Tyrions name a thousand times and still she wished to curse it a thousand more, along with that of the damned eunuch for his part in all this, the scheming bastard having gone missing along with Tyrion. Her brother killing the woman who had admitted herself to being a whore in front of the entirety of the court and leaving her corpse in her fathers chamber only made him seem more human, like even he had his desires. Like he wasn't a lion above the sheep. It would help to bring down his reputation further.
All while they were being surrounded by the Tyrells, rumors of rising dragons to the east, with her grip on the majority of the kingdoms being next to nonexistent. The only ones they had any they could expect loyalty from was the Westerlands and the Reach, and she was desperate to make sure no one caught word that the Lannister gold mines had finally run dry. Though she supposed bitterly, Robert building up so much dept during his reign as king had a large part in the current state of the Lannisters wealth.
They wouldn't be getting the gold they lent back any time soon, and oh how much it hurt to have realized in just what a poor position they were in at this point. The only thing that had been shielding her family from losing their power had been Tywin, and now he was dead and buried, his reputation marred and no longer able to instill fear within the hearts of the lords of the kingdoms.
And if the Tyrells of all people found out they were currently the richest house in Westeros, with the Lannisters no longer even being able to call themselves wealthy, the amount of leverage they'd be able to hold against them would be catastrophic considering the crowns monstrous dept to the iron bank, among many other sources. She couldn't help but feel bitterness at the Tyrells source of wealth, knowing that unlike her family goldmines their sources weren't likely to go dry any time soon. Not without putting the Reach to the sword and salting the earth it encompassed.
As her dearest bastard of a little brother would say, "We're fucked."
On top of the pile of shit that just kept on building up before her was the reports she had found in her fathers solar after his death. She had looked around to see what she would find, only to come upon his notes and reports on the dragons that had come to Westeros and how best to counter them. She was more afraid of them than any of the vipers in Kings Landing.
After all, what was a viper compared to the power of one of the most powerful beasts in the world? She had a nightmare the night she had read his reports and plans, dreams of dragons descending on Kings Landing and burning it all to ash. Of watching her remaining children be turned to ash, screaming in pain for mercy as legendary monsters burned them alive with no care in the world. Fears she had even with Myrcella all the way in Dorne, though she still envisioned her only daughter coming back cold, dealt in by the Martells in Dorne rather than the wrath of wild dragons avenging the usurped dragon lords.
"Gold will be their crowns. Gold; their shrouds." Even as she drank, she couldn't help but shiver in dread at the memory.
She knew better, having fully read the reports and found that the dragons in question were still fairly small and vulnerable, and it would likely be years before they could even attempt to be a threat to them. They could be killed if one was careful enough and used the right methods. If they were lucky, they may find themselves biting off more than they can chew and getting themselves killed off by some other beast instead, such as a monster bear getting in a lucky swipe of the paw, or wandering too close to a castle and being shot down by a group of archers.
Somehow, she couldn't help but find that outcome extremely unlikely.
Yet she had also made sure the notes he had paired with the reports, notes on weapons named scorpions, and of how one of the ancient Targaryens dragons was killed during their wars with Dorne. A lucky shot to the eye with one such weapon. Though with how strong a fully grown dragons hide was, she had her doubts that a scorpion would be capable enough of doing the job and bringing down the overgrown lizards. At least, she doubted it could do the job in a single shot
Still, she had been more than happy to hand the notes over to Qyburn for him to take a look. If there was anyone she currently trusted to make sense of the notes she had found and the best way to make use of them, it would be him. Perhaps soon it would be time to replace Pycelle altogether with Qyburn, even if the man was loyal to her house. He was too easily bought and swayed after all who claimed to be loyal to Lannister, and she had little use for an old man putting up a mummers farce of weakness.
She still burned with embarrassment at how long it had taken her in particular to realize the act he was putting on was just that: An act. Especially when she discussed it with Jaime and found out he had been aware of it from the moment he laid eyes on the old man. It seemed she had underestimated her twins insight. Just like how she had overestimated his intelligence and the ability to think past his love for their abomination of a sibling. She had made sure he knew her thoughts on the matter.
As she thought of how the world was beginning to fall apart around her, unsure of how her family would survive the coming storm, she brought a glass of wine to her lips as she watched over the Blackwater and city. It was time to further play the game, and she had to go for all or nothing. If she didn't, she was certain that her family would perish, left to be known in history as the failures who hadn't been able to hold onto the throne. An embarrassment, considering how long the Targaryens had been able to hold onto the throne before being usurped.
She didn't have her father to rely on as a safety net to ensure their safety anymore. She needed to ensure that her family established a dynasty to last a thousand years, even with all the odds against them.
Dorne was enraged at the death of the Red Viper on top of the deaths of Rhaenys and Aegon Targaryen along with their mother Elia years before, the Reach closing in on tightening their hold on the crown and seizing power for themselves, the North currently loyal under the tenuous hold of house Bolton for the moment, the Riverlands under the tenuous hold of the Freys for the time being, the Stormlands being loyal to Stannis or neutral, the Crownlands loyal to Stannis or neutral with most of it ready to turn to a Targaryen, the Vale still holding themselves back from the field and from court, and the Iron Islands just blatantly running wild, with Daenarys Targaryen and a supposed Aegons forces growing in Essos.
Even though she knew what she had to do, she simply didn't know exactly how she was going to go about it. Oh how she wished she could do away with all of her enemies all at once.
If only she knew just how much worse her situation was going to become in the coming months, and how much larger her list of enemies was going to grow.
So right now, still more of a general overview of how things are going and a general timeline to set things up, as well as peoples reactions to events around Westeros. Not got too much to say, but next chapter, we're going to be a bit more personal and have much slower pacing. Chapter 3 onwards will be how the story is for the most part from here.
Also, a quick reply to a Guest review
Guest, "The dragon section was confusing as you seemed to be implying that there were four dragons and not three, using 'they' when referring to those other than Viserion and Rhaegal."
That was a part I was worried about as I felt it may seem a bit confusing, but its not using they to mean there are more than three. Its meant to be a gender neutral term for them. Its speculated dragons aren't male or female, and are simply whatever is needed to reproduce. So I figured simply giving them general neutral terms such as they and them just made sense. These are animals with a human level of intelligence and higher, but while they understand humans having a set gender, they wouldn't. So its simply they replacing terms such as "he". It was a bit tricky tbh and I had to constantly correct it.
'As a point, Drogon was bigger because he wasn't kept beneath the pyramid and chained. As long as they have food and freedom to fly, dragons in canon do not stop growing."
You're both correct and wrong. Yes, as long as a dragon is free and fed, it will grow. However, Drogon was always slightly bigger than Rhaegal and Viserion. Its never outright mentioned in the show, or shown before the two are chained, but it is mentioned that Drogon is slightly larger than Rhaegal and Viserion, so he is still the largest and most physically powerful of the three, hence giving him a sort of spot as top dog. A part of why Rhaegal and Viserion would prefer to avoid fighting if it wasn't necessary.
"I hope you're not going with Tyrion etc being a Targaryen as well."
Why would I do that? There is nothing that indicates I would make Tyrion a random Targaryen. As I said in the last chapter, I intend to incorporate certain book elements into the story. That's the only hint I'll give on the matter.
