Space Dragon 3
- Before the Iron Throne -
"Your grace," Wrex turns his attention away from the large axe the King had seen fit to give him to look at a group of men approaching. The speaker looked about the same age as the King, at least by the krogan's estimation, "Word by raven, Lord Lannister marches to your aid!"
"My thanks, Pycelle," the king chuckles, "So Tywin has finally decided to throw his lot in with the true king! I knew my old friend wouldn't fail me."
Wrex has to stop himself from snorting, and it looks like Jaime Lannister is equally as doubtful about the fact that they were definitely going to win. From what the Battlemaster had seen, the loyalists were going to be stomped like a dying varren.
"I don't know, your grace," This was said by a human without hair, the first Wrex had seen. They usually had the hair either on their heads or faces, sometimes even both. This man had neither, and he gave the Krogan a curious look before turning to Aerys and continuing, "The enmity between your grace and Lord Tywin is well known, as are the imagined slights he feels you have made to him."
"Slights? He think my naming his son to my Kingsguard a slight?" The Mad King snorts, "That was an insult, Varys! But Tywin and I have shared many japed together, and a great rivalry. Pycelle, what does his raven say?"
"He is to march through the Lion Gate sometime in the early morning, your grace," Pycelle tells the king, "If the gates are open. Lord Stark marches as well, near matching his speed. "
"Mm, I would hate to leave my friend to the wolves," Aerys muses, then he turns to Wrex, "What do you think, Urdnot Wrex?"
Wrex raises an eye ridge. He snorts, "I say let 'em in. He proves an ally, good. He proves an enemy, he's closer to kill."
Aerys grins widely, "An excellent idea, my friend! Pycelle, send word that the gates are to be opened, but make sure they are to do so only if Tywin is at the head of his armies. Inform Lord Lannister that I expect him to join me in the throne room to eke out a strategy for the city's defense."
Pycelle nods, then retreats through a side door. Wrex watched the human retreat; sure that something was up but not adept at reading the new species yet. He'd figure it out, eventually.
"You are dismissed, Varys," Aerys tells the balding mad, who quickly leaves. Only one man remains, decked in robes with a wolfish grin as evil as the king's. The monarch asks this last man, "Is everything in place, Rossart?"
"Indeed, your grace," The man chuckles, "The jars are set, and my greatest alchemists are in place."
Wrex looks to Jaime for some explanation, and his eyes narrow at the expression on the human's face. They were close enough to asari that Wrex could tell expressions, if not age, and Jaime Lannister looked very upset; dismayed, even.
Who the hell was this "Rossart," that he could cause stress in the usually cocksure Lannister. Wrex had known the kid maybe four hours at this point; and he was sure the boy was an arrogant jackass every hour of the day.
"Alright, the hell's going on now?" He grumbles, drawing the eyes of all three humans to himself. He looks between each, waiting for an explanation. When none arrives, he grumbles again and points at Rossart, "Who, by Kalros's shiny shits, are you?"
"I am Rossart, Hand of the King."
"And?"
"I am Grand Maester of the Alchemist's Guild."
"And?"
"I serve King Aerys faithfully by providing him with the crown's Wildfire!"
"The fuck is wildfire?"
"The key to my family's power," Aerys snaps, irritated with the krogan for the first time, "We no longer have our Dragons, so we must make due. Wildfire is the secret of my family and the Alchemists, and I must use it to rise and become a true dragon!"
Wrex blinks, looks at Jaime and Rossart, and then back to the king. Then he asks, "So, what, you're gonna set yourself on fire?"
"Myself, and this entire wretched city!" Aerys cackles, wringing his clawed hands together, though Wrex notes once more that the claws exist because of poor hygiene than a predatory ancestry like a krogan or turian's.
"Great, long as I'm not here when you do, I don't give a vorcha's ass."
Wrex ignores the horrified look that briefing passes across Jaime's face along with the glee on Aerys's face. Instead he turns his attention back to the axe in his hands, working to get familiar with the primitive weapon. His own weapon, a treasured Claymore shotgun, had taken a beating in the crash and he wasn't going to risk it exploding in his hands until he really needed to use it.
- The Royal Suites -
Liselle ran her hand along the soft black fur of the princess's cat, smiling at the child. They had played for a while, but now the child was more curious. So here they were, sitting cross-legged across from each other, passing Baelor the cat between them as the asari answered questions.
They'd already gone over most species in the galaxy, and Liselle had taken quite a lot of time describing the species that the girl would never meet. She would learn all about asari and Krogan in the years to come, after all. Though some details on the asari did crop up, like the fact that Liselle would never have any brothers.
"But your mommy is old!" Rhaenys exclaims, surprised, "My mommy isn't even as old as my poppa, but she already has me and Eggy."
"Yes, but asari live long lives," Liselle tells her, "So if we had as many children as your mother or your grandma have tried to have, the galaxy would be even more overfull of us than it already is."
"Why's that bad?"
"It isn't, but we just don't want to have as many children."
"Why not?"
Liselle smiles at the child and lifts up the black cat in her hands, "This is a cat, and cats have many children when their women give birth."
"As many as doggies do," Rhaenys nods.
"Exactly, and they have so many pretty little babies because they don't live as long as you humans. They need to make sure as many kittens or puppies live as possible, so they make as many as they can."
Rhaenys tilts her head, still waiting for things to make sense.
"All those little kitties grow up and have kittens of their own, don't they?"
The little girl nods.
"A cat can have three generations of descendants before a human's hair goes grey," Liselle tells her, "Humans have fewer children than cats and dogs because they live longer than cats and dogs."
"Okay, but why do you not have as many babies as humans?" Rhaenys giggles, wondering why the woman doesn't address herself as a human. Though Liselle looked strange, the little girl hadn't quite realized just how alien the strange looking woman was.
"To me and my mother, Rhaenys, you would be the kitty," Liselle tells her.
The child furrows her brow at that, trying to think of what that might mean. It takes a while, but then she realizes something. She smiles widely and pounces onto Liselle. The asari laughs, upended, and sprawls out onto the floor.
Rhaenys sits on her lap, then takes Baelor from her, "If I'm a kitty, you can pet me, and I'll pet Baelor!"
Liselle laughs, and strokes the child's hair.
Her eyes drift over to her mother and Rhaenys's own, talking quietly on the balcony.
"It's that bad, is it?" Aria asks, arms resting on the railing as she gazes out into the shit smelling city.
Ellia hums a confirmation, "If Rhaegar's army really is gone, then all we have are the Tyrells and the Lannisters."
"You don't sound very enthusiastic," the former queen notes.
"I'm not," the princess snorts, "my family and the Tyrells have been in conflict for centuries and Tywin Lannister hates the King. If me and my children are to survive this fight, we need to flee."
"But you can't, can you?"
"No, we are hostages to maintain Dorne's participation in the war," Ellia sighs, "Aerys is a mad man, but his strategists knew what they were doing."
"Do they still?" Aria muses. She turns her head to look at Ellia and asks, "Do the Targaryens have another stronghold?"
"Dragonstone," Ellia tells her.
"Defensible?"
"It's a fortress on a cliff covered island."
"Is that a yes or a no?" Aria asks, "I spent six hundred years ruling a rock in space, not a seaside resort."
"Yes," Ellia tells her, hiding her unease at the news of her companion's age.
"Good," Aria smiles. She turns around, and watches as her daughter plays with Ellia's own, "My daughter likes yours."
Ellia looks as well, and a smile teases across her lips, "She does, and Rhaenys likes her."
"You're very lucky she does," Aria tells her, drawing Ellia's eyes to her, "If it were only the two of us, I would leave now and take your island fortress as my own."
"And now?"
"Now I'm going to have to take you with me while I do it," She is told, and Aria smirks, "Aria T'Loak is the queen, girl, never think otherwise."
- The Lannister Camp -
Sitting alone in his tent, Tywin Lannister thought of the events that would play out the next day. Pycelle had sent a raven, telling him how to ensure the gates would remain open. It was very useful, indulging disgusting layabouts like him.
The maester had also provided him with useful, actionable intelligence on the three alien beings that had interrupted the battle at the Trident. Two women and a large male creature, they called themselves "asari" and "krogan." The women were apparently exiled royals, a Queen and her daughter. The "krogan" was some kind of intelligent dragon, a mercenary that was beholden to the highest bidder.
Both would be very easy to deal with, if they survived the slaughter to come. The Queen he could probably convince Robert Baratheon to give the Stepstones. The damned islands had been a hive of pirates for a long time, and having a permanent ruler would give them some stability while the realm rebuilt. Once the Free Cities inevitably destroyed her, there would be nothing to worry about after that. The mercenary would just be offered a substantial amount of gold, Tywin had far more than Aerys could ever hope to bring without selling the realm.
There is a whisper of cloth as his brother Kevan enters the chamber. They shared a nod, and Kevan poured them both some wine, "So, are you sure we are to do this?"
"I am."
"May the gods have mercy on our souls."
"Don't be so dramatic, Kevan," Tywin grunts, taking a sip of his wine, "The time of the Targaryens comes to an end tomorrow. Aerys will die, and the realm will live on."
"It is not him I pray for."
"You speak of the Princess and her children?" Tywin asks.
"I do."
"The children need to die," The Lord of Casterly Rock tells his brother, "Alive, they are a threat to the stability of Robert Baratheon's rule and a rallying point for any remaining loyalists."
"And Ellia?" they had both met the Princess, both liked the girl when they had.
"I've ordered that only the children are to be killed."
"But you gave the orders to Clegane and Lorch," Kevan objects.
"They are the only two I do not believe would hesitate."
"Of course they won't, they are monsters!"
Tywin looks harshly at his brother, and the man forces himself to calm down.
"Please, brother, don't do this."
"It has to be done," Tywin tells him.
Kevan stands, takes a long gulp of his wine, and exits the wine after setting the empty cup on the ground. Tywin watches his brother leave, then takes a contemplative sip of his own wine. He knew, in his heart, that he would regret the next day for the rest of his life.
His dear Johanna, dead ten years now, had been dear friends with Ellia's mother and would hate him for the crimes he was about to commit against the girl.
- The Stark Camp -
Ned Stark watched the stars overhead, winding their way through infinity. He imagined the sky had been the same when his father last looked at it, when his brother threw a dismissive glance up. Rickard had been a thinker, but Brandon had been hardy. Brandon had been foolish, brave, and had gotten himself killed acting out both traits.
He'd gotten their father killed the same way.
Ned loved his brother, he truly did, but he also hated the idiot. If Brandon had just thought, even for a second, he would have seen he was making a mistake. He could have asked father for direction, advice… something. Father would have advised him not to be foolish.
If only Brandon had thought. But now he had to find Lyanna alone, with Benjen back in Winterfell and the Northern Host at his back. He had to march on the den of vipers that had slain his father and his brother. He had to treat with Tywin Lannister, a man known for his fearsome reputation.
The raven had come yesterday, when it had become clear that the two armies would reach King's Landing at almost the same time. The note inside had been simple, a declaration of loyalty from Lord Lannister to the Baratheon cause. Tywin also wrote that he planned on taking the city from within, which meant that he had to reach it first if he was to succeed.
Now the question was whether or not he should believe the letter, and the man who wrote it. If he arrived with the Lannister forces, Tywin would join his host to theirs. But if he allowed the Lannisters to spring their trap, the city could be won with far less bloodshed for his men. He did not want to lose the North any more men than he already had. He had seen friends fall, he did not wish to see any more.
If victory could be achieved by letting the lions feast on the dragons, it had to be so.
Decision made, he returns to his command tent. Inside were all of his commanders, ready to take his orders and act upon them. He looked first at Roose Bolton, "Lord Bolton, the capital will be embroiled in battle when we reach it tomorrow. The Lannisters have declared for our side, so they will be springing a trap on the dragons from within the city walls. When the gates crash down, I leave it to you and your forces to enter the city and maintain as much order as you can. No raping, no murdering, but if they draw steel they are an enemy."
"Of course, my lord."
"Greatjon," Ned turns his eyes to the Umber lord, who shifts forward eagerly, "You are going to turn your forces further south. Lords Manderly, Glover, and Forrester will accompany you with their hosts. Storm's End is held by the Tyrells, and they've been growing lazy these last months. Teach them the error of their indulgence."
Greatjon and the other three lords laugh, excited for a new battle in which to prove themselves.
"Howland," turning to the Crannogman, Ned tells him, "Your people will get mine into the Red Keep. Once we have the Targaryens in hand, the battle is won."
Lord Reed nods, accepting the assignment quietly.
Eddard looks around the table, "the rest of you will move to other gates and enter the city as you can. Once inside, follow Lord Bolton's lead and keep order. The Lannisters have promised us the city, but they never promised it in good condition, it's our job to make sure it's in tact before Robert gets here."
- Before the Iron Throne -
"You want to take from me the key to Dorne?" Aerys asks.
Aria frowns at the distasteful human, "What use is Dorne? My daughter took the mind of your Dornish commander. He's dead, his army's dead, and they don't have the men gathered to raise another. You could always beg them to send stragglers, but that won't be much use. The best they'll be now is a place to retreat, and you need them willing to do that."
"And they aren't willing now?" Aerys laughs, "I hold Doran Martell's sister!"
"You do, and when you go there, how grateful do you think they'll be if they learn you've deliberately put her in harm's way?" Aria asks.
"It won't matter!" the Mad King cackles, "I will never leave my throne, and none will lift me from it!"
Aria raises an eyebrow, "So you alienate your allies, after you've already started a revolt?"
"I started this rebellion? No! It was that fool, Arryn, that saw fit to declare war!"
"After you demanded his foster son's head."
"I had already collected two, I needed the whole set," Aerys waves a hand dismissively.
The former queen of Omega closes her eyes and barely restrains herself from rubbing them.
"I will not be letting you take my dear daughter and her children," Aery simpers, "And if you try to take them I will have you burnt alive!"
"Oh boy," Wrex grunts, and he grabs Jaime's shoulder before the human guard can make any moves. The Lannister knight looks up at him, confused, and the krogan notes, "You don't wanna get in the middle of this."
Aria thrusts her hand forward, and Aerys gives a squawk of surprise as he is torn from the Iron Throne. Wreathed in blue energy, he soars through the air until he is caught by the enraged asari. The wreath of blue energy binds them as she takes the human by the throat, squeezing. He croaks in terror, but cannot object, the hold on his neck too tight.
"Listen well, human," Aria growls, "I am Aria T'Loak. I do not take threats, orders, commands, or even polite suggestions. I give them. You don't threaten to kill me, you try and fail. A threat is made by somebody who doesn't have the power to act. I have the power, even now."
Aerys tries to claw at the hand on his neck, but the barrier of biotic energy does not afford him a good hold. The grip tightens, and he stills.
"I will be taking Ellia Martell and her children," She tells him, then loosens her grip, "Say yes."
"Why?" Aerys asks instead, "Why do you care about them?"
"My daughter cares about them," Aria corrects, "And I care about my daughter. I wouldn't give a turian's honor about them if she didn't."
"Why not stay, then?" He asks.
"Because there are casualties in every war, and my daughter would be sad if her new playthings her among them," Aria tells him, "say yes."
"Yes! Damn you," Aria drops him to the ground and he glares up at her with more impotent hate than anyone she'd ever care to remember, "You will pay for this, woman. You will die one day, mark my words."
Aria snorts, and she flicks her hand to the side. Aerys yelps again as he is yanked backwards, then screams as he lands painfully on the Iron Throne.
"I told you, Aerys," She notes as she turns and walks out the doors, "Threats are for those without power."