Late 159 AC
Lord Lyonel Tyrell
Lyonel Tyrell pressed his face into the crook of his lover's neck and placed soft kisses on her skin. She squirmed a little in his arms and he let her go. Alys Peake stood up from her place on Lyonel's lap and straightened her skirts a little and looked around the tent as if expecting her cousin's men to catch her with Lyonel. Lyonel laughed deeply and spoke.
"What are you worried about? The Lady Myrielle is surely with the other lords in prince Aegon's tent. I told you that they would be holding their council now. You need not have any worry of being discovered," Lyonel said. Alys frowned and put her hand on her hips and spoke.
"You should be there too. What if someone was sent to find you?" Alys asked, wringing her hands.
"Let me worry about all that," Lyonel said. He reached out to her but just as he was about to touch her, the flap of the tent opened and Ser Petyr Shawney stepped in. He glanced at Alys Peake and a shadow of disgust passed over his features. Lyonel fumed. Who did this knight think he was, to judge Alys so?
"Prince Aegon commands your presence in his tent. A conference is being held and as the Lord Paramount of the Reach, your attendance is required," Ser Petyr said bluntly.
Lyonel's blood boiled. This knight, this upjumped servant from the lowliest line in the Riverlands dared to speak to him in such a tone? Lyonel drew himself up and stood to let this man know the extent of his displeasure. He gathered his cloak about himself and was about to speak but Shawney took that as a sign of him getting ready to leave and he left the tent, without even waiting for him. Lyonel let out a scream of anger and threw a goblet of wine against the dusty Dornish earth within his tent.
The clanging produced by the goblet must have drawn the attention of the men near his tent and Ser Armond Caswell and Ser Samwell Rowan rushed inside, hands on the hilts of their swords. By then, some of Lyonel's rage had cooled and Alys approached him, laying a hand on his shoulders and massaging them gently. As Armond and Samwell looked around the tent, Lyonel raised a hand to bring them to stop their efforts.
"What's wrong, Ly?" Samwell asked. "Did someone get in? Did the Dayne send an assassin?"
Armond scoffed. "Don't be stupid, Sam. We might be investing High Hermitage, but Ly isn't in command here, the Prince is. And the Sword of the Morning is no villain, unlike these Wyls and Blackmonts," Armond said.
"It was the Kingsguard," Alys said and realization dawned on Armond and Samwell's minds.
"The filthy servant that he is, where does he get off of, treating me the way he does?" Lyonel demanded angrily.
"It is not only you. He treats all of us Reachmen in the same way as if he were superior to us all," Armond said.
"Say the word, Ly and I shall have him taken care of. No one would be able to trace it back to you," Samwell said.
"Perhaps. For now, we must go to Prince Aegon's tent forthwith. There cannot be any council without the Lord of the Reach and it does us no favours to keep the Sellsword Prince waiting," Lyonel said. The group had a chuckle at Aegon's epithet and made their way out of the tent. Alys fell into step with them and Lyonel turned to face her.
"Don't come with us. I shall ask Lady Myrielle for your hand after the council or sometime similar. Go to your own part of the camp and stay there," Lyonel instructed. Alys looked dejected and pouted, looking up at him with her big, green eyes. Lyonel looked around to see if anyone was looking at them and placed a quick kiss to her lips and turned to Samwell Rowan.
"Sam, escort Alys to her tent and ensure that she isn't bothered on her way there. Armond, you shall accompany me to the council," Lyonel said. Samwell nodded his assent and began to lead Alys away to her tent, who gave a look of longing and desire to Lyonel as she left which almost made him want to take her with him to Prince Aegon's tent.
Lyonel shook himself and turned away and started walking with purpose towards the massive tent which had been erected towards the centre of the camp. The men themselves, be it men-at-arms or the peasant levies forwent tents in favour of a bivouac with short, flat covers to protect against the biting cold of the Red Desert's nights. The only high tents were those of the men's lords, some of which would have even passed for pavilions.
As Lyonel made his way over to Prince Aegon's tent, he spied the banners of the Fossoways, the Bulwers, the Hightowers, the Redwynes, the Florents, the Oakhearts and so on. The banners stretched out as far as the eye could see all across the mountain pass where they were camped. If Lyonel stood on the tips of his toes and tried to look all the way across the pass he could even see the banners of the Westerlander army which was camped on the other side, besieging Skyreach.
Lyonel and Armond finally reached Prince Aegon's tent. Lyonel saw Ser Petyr Shawney stand guard outside the tent along with some other knight he could not recognize. Lyonel sneered when he caught sight of Ser Petyr's face and bumped into him on purpose as he strode into the tent.
When Lyonel entered the tent, he saw that a large table was placed at its centre and the lords were arranged around it. He could see that Ormund Hightower occupied a position to Prince Aegon's immediate left, but also saw that the seat on Prince Aegon's right was empty. That must be for him, then. As he walked over to his seat, he passed by the Lady Myrielle Peake and stopped for a moment.
"My lady," Lyonel said courteously and took the hand that was offered to him, placing a kiss on the knuckles. "Might I say how -" Lyonel began.
"It would do you no favours to beat around the bush, my lord. I am aware of the nature of the relationship between yourself and my cousin. I am also aware that you wish to take her to wife. If that is why you have come here now, to ask her hand in marriage, well, I cannot in good faith promise the hand of my cousin to a man who is at war," lady Myrielle said, a severe expression not leaving her face throughout her speech.
"But after the war is done…," Lyonel asked hopefully
"Perhaps," Lady Myrielle said.
Lyonel smiled, sure now of his impending marriage and lady Myrielle to had a small smile on her lips upon seeing Lyonel's own happiness. Lyonel got up and spared a nod to Ser Lucos Caron, lady Myrielle's husband and made his way over to his seat. As he sat down Armond took up a position standing behind him. Prince Aegon, who had been in deep conversation with Ormund Hightower looked at him as he sat down and offered a hand. Lyonel took it in his own and clasped it.
"Well met, my Prince," Lyonel said, taking care to seem respectful.
"And you as well, my lord. I have not had much opportunity to speak with you on this march and for that, you must forgive me," Prince Aegon said.
"Think nothing of it, your grace," Lyonel said.
"Well, now that we all are here, it would be best to get started," Prince Aegon said and turned to face a huge brute of a man who was standing behind him. "Ser Jon, if you could kindly…," the Prince said.
The huge knight, Ser Jon apparently, leaned forwards and banged his meaty paw on the table a couple of times. With each successive thump, the sound of conversation died out and all of the assembled Reachlords turned as one to face the Prince, who looked at them impassively. Finally, silence was reached and the Prince let this silence linger for a while and Lyonel felt his anticipation increase. There must be some news of import, then.
"I have received word from the Lannisters. Lord Loreon, who as most of you must know, has been investing Skyreach on the opposite side of the Pass. And he says that he has credible evidence to believe that the castle has been abandoned, with only a token force left behind."
"In accordance with this, he has asked to be allowed to assault the castle and I have decided to allow for this. Skyreach has the natural advantage of its position and its environment, but the lack of men defending the castle should make his job easy. And then, we come to our dilemma. We have the numbers to assault High Hermitage, of that there is no doubt, but I would hear your inputs all the same," the Prince concluded. Lyonel cleared his throat and jumped into the discussion before anyone else could speak.
"We have to assault it, your grace. We cannot afford to tarry here any longer. The longer we delay, the more time our enemies have to gather their strength to oppose the King. And if we are lucky, even this castle might be abandoned," Lyonel said, confident in his reply. Ormund Hightower spoke up from Prince Aegon's other side.
"I urge caution, your grace. We have a need to make haste, this I admit, but that does not mean we need to throw men at the walls. We have already lost many men to heat strokes and the rest still have to get used to this heat. Let the Lannister march on, your grace, and you can even go on forward with him. We shall finish this in your name. I will deliver this castle to you personally," Ormund Hightower said smoothly.
Lyonel's blood boiled. He was the Lord of the Reach, not this Hightower. He would be the one to deliver the castle, not this Hightower. Lyonel started to rise up, to put the Hightower back in his place, but he was held down when Armond put a hand on his shoulder from behind and leaned forward to whisper in his ear.
"Let him go. We don't want the Prince to think that you are not in control of yourself," Armond whispered and Lyonel leaned backwards taking a few breaths to calm himself down.
"Do we know whether the castle is defended at all?" Lady Myrielle spoke up from her position on Lyonel's right. Lord Godric Florent spoke up.
"I have placed my men along the hilltops surrounding the castle. They report signs of heavy activity within the keep and also that the forge seems to be continually at work. They are even arming the servants and the smallfolk who have taken refuge in the castle," Lord Florent said.
"What smallfolk?" Lyonel asked and scoffed. "Haven't we burned down all the villages and towns on our ways here?"
"I'd hardly say that five villages are the sum of them in this path," Ormund Hightower countered.
"Be as it may, the castle appears to be fully defended, if Lord Florent is right," some Fossoway spoke up. Lyonel should have known his name, seeing as he was his Lyonel's vassal, but he cared not for such lowly lords.
"And fully stocked too. They might not be feasting every day, but they have no dearth of food and their stables are full of Dornish sand steeds, should the food run out," Lord Florent replied.
The Prince leaned forward on the table and steepled hands. He appeared to be in deep thought and the lords around the table fell silent. Then, he looked up and turned to Lord Florent.
"Have your men given you any idea of how much opposition we might expect if we were to storm the castle?" the Prince asked. Lord Florent looked up as if in thought and appeared to do some calculations. Lyonel scoffed. A showoff, that's what Godric Florent was, nothing more nothing less.
"Anywhere between a thousand and twelve hundred men, your grace," Godric Florent said.
The lords assembled at the table sucked in a deep breath at that number. A castle of this size should not typically support such a garrison. Something else must be at play.
"They must have gotten men and supplies from Starfall or somewhere further south. High Hermitage is no large castle. Its only advantage is its position," Lyonel said.
They were interrupted from any further discussion when the flap of the tent was opened and the other knight guarding the door stepped inside and bowed, to the Prince first and the assembled lords next. The Prince spoke up.
"Have you any news, Ser Harrold?" he asked.
"A messenger from the castle, my prince. From Ser Vorian Dayne," the knight, Ser Harrold said.
"Very well, send him in," Prince Aegon said.
A susurration of murmurs sprang up around the tent. All of the lords were whispering amongst themselves as to why this messenger would be sent. The Prince appeared to be in deep thought and Lyonel leaned backwards to talk with Armond.
"What do you think all of this is about?" Lyonel asked.
"I don't truly know either. Maybe they've come to offer surrender?" Armond hypothesized.
"Perhaps. If Godric Florent's numbers are true, then the castle cannot support that many men for long. They'll eat themselves within a month regardless of how much they've stored up," Lyonel said. There was a rustling near the tent flap and the messenger came in flanked by Ser Harrold and Ser Petyr Shawney.
The man who entered was obviously Dornish, though it would be more correct to call him boy than man. If he was skulking around the camp, he would be caught within minutes, so Dornish was he in appearance. Yet, he stood before the assembled lords now, dressed in finery and with nary a care, as if his victory was assured. Lyonel had to applaud him for his confidence at least, for he was within the camp of his enemy and showed no signs of fear. The man spoke.
"Hail, Prince Aegon of the Six Kingdoms of Westeros," the boy said with a smirk. Whispers broke out at this proclamation and Prince Aegon made to reply.
"Who are you, messenger, and what message do you bring?" Prince Aegon asked.
"I am Ulrick Qorgyle, squire to the master of the castle you are besieging, Ser Vorian Dayne, Sword of the Morning," he said, pride apparent in his voice.
"What message do you bring, lad?" Ormund Hightower asked, apparently not impressed with the boy's grandstanding. The Qorgyle's smirk became bloodthirsty at this.
"Single combat. For the castle. Your Prince against my master. If you lose, you turn away from this path and not come by with your armies through this Pass once more. This is a duel to the death, of course," he said.
"We could just wait for your men to starve. We have already received word of Lord Alyn Velaryon breaking Planky Town. He should be sailing up and down the Greenblood by now, putting your villages to the torch," Lyonel pointed out. A brief look of anger passed over the boy's face but he recovered very well, the smirk back in place within seconds
"But no news from your King, I expect. What a fool he was to lead his armies through the Boneway. Even now, I wager that he's -" the Qorgyle was interrupted by Prince Aegon.
"Enough! What if I win against your master? What then?" Prince Aegon asked.
"We'll surrender the castle," the boy said.
"Obviously," lady Myrielle said, rolling her eyes. "What else? If we are to turn back upon our loss, what would we gain upon our win?"
"Ser Vorian has the power to urge Starfall to surrender. You'd never take it without a naval blockade," the boy said.
"But Ser Vorian would be dead if we were to win. How would that work out?" Lyonel pointed out.
"He is the Sword of the Morning. His words carry a weight unto themselves," the boy retorted hotly.
"And, that is all? If we lose, we turn back, but if we win, we get two castles?" Ormund Hightower asked.
The boy looked desperate. This Vorian Dayne must have sent the boy because he thought he'd be able to convince the Prince to accept single combat. Unless he had something else up his sleeve, Lyonel did not think the Prince would accept. When it appeared that the Prince would send the boy away he spoke up once more.
"I am also the heir to Sandstone. I can convince my father to surrender," he said desperately.
"Very well, I accept," Prince Aegon said immediately.
The boy sagged in relief and he was led away by Ser Petyr Shawney. The tent exploded into noise as soon as the boy was outside. Each and everyone had their own opinion to state and wanted to be heard. Ser Jon walked up to the table from behind Prince Aegon and banged on the table loudly. The lords quieted down and Lyonel took his chance.
"This is too much of a risk, your grace," Lyonel said.
"I must concur, your grace. If we lose… And Vorian Dayne is a peerless knight and the Sword of the Morning on top of that," Ormund Hightower said.
"And I am a knight as well, lest you forget, my lord. He might be the Sword of the Morning, but I am a Dragon and I lose to no one," Prince Aegon said with a tone of finality in his voice and Lyonel realized that discussion was fruitless.
Prince Aegon called for his squire and a young boy, dressed in the colours of House Ball came forward with Prince Aegon's armour and weapons. Prince Aegon turned to the assembled lords and stood up, speaking with them all.
"My lords, if I may have leave of you, I will put on my armour. Lord Tyrell, please stay behind," Prince Aegon said.
The lords took their leave, bowing and muttering and Lyonel stayed in his seat while the rest of them left. Armond tried to stay with him, but a look from the Prince sent him away. The Prince paid Lyonel no mind for a while as he put on his armour and Lyonel poured some wine in a goblet and sipped it.
"Not so tight with the straps, Quentyn," Prince Aegon said.
"Sorry, Ser," the boy replied.
And so on it went as the boy, who Prince Aegon had taken as a squire after meeting up with the Reachmen, helped the Prince into his armour. It took quite a while and Lyonel entertained himself by looking at how the boy failed to help Prince Aegon with his armour. After it was done, Prince Aegon spoke to the boy.
"Go with Ser Jon. He will lead you to where my mace is being kept. It will be a hand and a half with Targaryen heraldry etched upon it. The metal will be smoky and rippled, like Valyrian steel. I want you to bring it to me," Prince Aegon instructed.
The boy nodded and ran out of the tent with Ser Jon following on his heels. Prince Aegon chuckled and turned to face Lyonel.
"The boy seems very young," Lyonel said.
"Oh, he's twelve or so. I chose him because I wanted a younger squire. But I digress. Let us get to what I asked you to stay behind for," the Prince said.
"Of course, your grace," Lyonel replied.
"I want you to send an archer of yours over to the Dornish side. Someone you trust. Do so after my duel has started and both sides have gathered to face each other. Should I die, have the archer shoot an arrow at me and shout 'Treachery!' Then, take the castle by storm," Prince Aegon said a serious expression on his face
"Of course, your grace! I am glad you have a contingency in place" Lyonel replied with relief. He was glad that the Prince had not abandoned common sense. Then a seed of an idea took root in his mind and he bowed to Prince Aegon before taking his leave. Lyonel left the tent in a hurry and he caught a glimpse of young Quentyn Ball carrying Prince Aegon's heavy mace into the tent just as he left.
Lyonel made his way over to his tent and the guard posted outside saluted sharply as he entered but Lyonel paid them no mind. Inside Sam and Armond were both sitting in chairs and drinking wine. He walked over to them and they looked up at his approach. Armond spoke up.
"So, why did the Prince ask you to stay behind?" Armond asked.
"He had a plan in case he were to die fighting. Don't let anyone else know about this. I want to maintain the element of surprise," Lyonel said.
"Well, if you say so," Armond said, though he did not seem very convinced.
"I do," Lyonel said and turned to face Sam. "You are the best archer I know, Sam, and I have a task for you. One of the utmost importance. Will you do it for me?" Lyonel asked, his tone turning serious.
"Of course, my lord," Sam said as he stood up and bowed, realizing the gravity of the situation.
"Very well. This is what I need you to do," Lyonel said and launched into his own explanation of what he wanted Samwell Rowan to do. However, after he had relayed all of Prince Aegon's instructions to Sam, he added a few more of his own.
"If you have the opportunity to do so after the duel is done, I want you to seat Dawn for me. Do not be seen and do not be found out," Lyonel instructed.
"Of course, my lord. I can disguise myself. I will not let you down," Sam said and bowed and left.
"Do you think he'll be able to do it?" Armond asked.
"I know of no better archer. I can only hope he won't be discovered," Lyonel said.
"And Dawn? Was it necessary?" Armond asked.
"You have to take opportunities as they present themselves," Lyonel said simply. Armond nodded and both of them put on their own armour and made their way out of their tent and towards the edge of the camp where all the lords had gathered.
Prince Aegon looked splendid in his armour. It was black enamelled steel with rubies in the shape of a Targaryen dragon adorning its breastplate. His helm had a dragon taking flight upon it and its wings covered his face. He stood with the helm in his hand and his mace in another and in that moment, Lyonel could see the man who had spent seven years fighting war after war after in Essos.
Vorian Dayne and his party were coming down the hilly slope upon which High Hermitage stood and Lyonel got his first look at the Sword of the Morning. He had foregone plate armour in favour of scale mail and wore a pointed helm on his head. As he got closer, Lyonel saw that he had the typical Dornish colouring, with dusky skin and dark hair, but when he came near their own party, Lyonel noticed his eyes which were a shade of lilac. Very peculiar.
Vorian Dayne had a septon with him alongside his squire, two other knights in Dayne colours and a score of men. Lyonel searched the men's faces and a small pit of dread settled in Lyonel's stomach when he saw that Sam was not a part of Ser Vorian's group Both the parties stood and faced each other without speaking for quite some time and then Ser Vorian Dayne spoke.
"I understand that my squire has informed you of the conditions under which this duel us to be performed?" Ser Vorian asked.
"Yes. Let us get this over with," Prince Aegon said and put on his helm, striding forward.
The men on both sides went back to create space for the combatants to fight. Then the septon came forwards and blessed both of the fighters and asked the Father to provide them entry into heaven should either of them fall in battle. He then led a prayer to the Warrior, which both the Prince and Ser Vorian recited dutifully. After that, he ran away as far as he could to the Dornish contingent.
Prince Aegon and Ser Vorian circled each other, the duel having begun as soon as their prayer had ended. Each of them sent a few blows swinging towards the other in wide arcs, feeling out their opponent. Lyonel marvelled at the sight of Dawn, the pale sword catching the light of the evening sun and turning a blood-red colour as if it had been stained in the blood of its adversaries.
Then, there was a flurry of movement and Lyonel hastened to pay attention. Ser Vorian thrust his sword forward with both of his hands and nearly skewered Prince Aegon. Dawn scraped upon Prince Aegon's breastplate as he jumped to the side at the last moment and quite a few of the rubies on his breastplate were knocked loose. However, this left Ser Vorian overextended and Prince Aegon wasted no time, bringing his mace around and glancing a blow on Ser Vorian's shoulders which forced him to drop Dawn. Lyonel's heart leapt to his mouth. This was it, the fight was over.
Only, it wasn't. Ser Vorian was not the Sword of the Morning for nothing. He took the dagger he wore at his hip and slipped inside Prince Aegon's guard, fast as a viper and struck downwards. The blade must have hit something, for Prince Aegon gave out a cry of pain and dropped his own mace. When Ser Vorian withdrew his dagger, it's tip was stained in blood. Lyonel's heart sank. The loss would not be devastating, of course. He could lead the army to victory, it was the principle of the matter that was important.
But, Prince Aegon recovered remarkably. He drew his own dagger in a flash and blocked an overhead strike with his arm and in the same moment plunged his dagger into the gap between Ser Vorian's helmet and twisted. And with that, the fight was finally over. Ser Vorian dropped to the ground and twitched once, twice, thrice and stilled, even as his blood pooled around him staining the red sands. The man's squire ran over to kneel beside him, tears in his eyes even as the other knights who had come with Ser Vorian came forth to kneel at Prince Aegon's feet.
Then, someone from behind Lyonel called out loudly.
"Hail, Prince Aegon, the Dragonknight!"
"Prince Aegon!"
"The Dragonknight! The Dragonknight!"
"Hail the Dragonknight!"
As people around and behind him cheered and shouted their jubilation, Lyonel searched frantically for Sam. Had he sent his friend to his death, just because he wanted a damned sword? Lyonel did not know and he was afraid to find out.
AN: So, this begins or Dornish war. Or rather, we're smack dab in the middle of it. We will also get different POV chapters throughout the war in all of its theatres. So, stay tuned and please give me some feedback. Did you like it? Hate it? Want to complain? Do let me know. I thrive off of feedback.
By the way, if any of you were wondering why this chapter took so long, I was working on another story called Once upon a Summer Moon, a Robert Baratheon time travel fic. Please check it out, if you can. Thanks!