Lucereon

Sometimes it felt like his life before Tyrosh had been just a dream, the stories he had grown up hearing of Highgarden, the Reach and King's Landing, it all seemed like some sort of fairytale. And yet his father and brothers and even his nephew had died for that fairytale, for something that he couldn't remember and that his son had never seen before. Sometimes he questioned why he was still fighting for the Iron Throne, what could he really want from it truly, if it was his by right then surely the Lords of Westeros would have overthrown the Targaryens long ago and welcomed him and his family back like the royalty his uncle Bittersteel and others like Robb Reyne had always claimed they were. The fact that the lords of Westeros had not done this only served to confuse Lucereon even further.

He had been too young to fight for Haegon or so his uncle and brother had said, they had kept him back in Tyrosh whilst they went and fought against the Targaryens, from the commanders who had been there since he was a child only Robb Reyne returned battered and bruised, Haegon and Bittersteel lay somewhere in the ground in the Crownlands. Then Maegon invaded Westeros and Lucereon had gone with his brother, by that point he had fought in many battles in the Disputed Lands alongside his brothers in arms in the Golden Company and had married, Maegon fell slain by Maekar Targaryen. His mother's heart continued to break her health began to fail, and then when Aegon invaded Lucereon came with him and watched as Brynden Targaryen the new king cut him down to pieces.

Why he was still planning on invading he knew not, he only knew what he had been taught from a young age. The Targaryens were wrong, his father had been the rightful king and with his brothers and nephew dead it was his duty to ensure the line of House Blackfyre sat on the Iron Throne and so he had begun planning an invasion of Westeros. Before he could think about where the Golden Company would land, he realised that they would need the alliance of some of the princely states in Essos, none of the great houses and more important lesser houses would rise for him, they were all too scared of Brynden Targaryen and Edwyle Stark, but still there would be those who for the right price could be brought over to his side.

That was how he had brought the allegiance of the Prince of Pentos, the Golden Company famed for never breaking a contract had taken up a contract some three years ago to fight for Pentos against Meeren, the Company had been victorious with Lucereon himself slaying the commander of Meeren's forces, the Prince of Pentos had been in his debt since that day. The Prince had been more than willing to pay off that debt, and so had called in a few favours with his friends in Lys and Bravos send their best fighters, 500 men had turned up under the command of one Sorroq Ma Lazah, Lucereon had thanked the Prince for that and had taken those men as well as the Golden Company to pay a visit to the chieftains of Myr, all of whom had owed the Golden Company a debt of some sort over the years. One thing that Lucereon appreciated about his brother's Maegon was that Maegon had quite intimidated the nobles of the Free Cities, what with his size and formidable reputation, the nobles of Essos had learnt to fear the coming of the Golden Company, and so had been more than willing to give men to Lucereon when he asked, each chieftain gave roughly 500 men each which considering there were five of them equalled some 2,500 men a hefty addition to his army. Next had been a visit across the Velvet Hills and the Whispering Grass to Norvos, where the High Magister had barred the gates of the city and sent one of his bearded priests out challenge Lucereon to single combat, the priest might have been big and fierce, but he lacked discipline for single combat and had been killed easily, the Magister opened his gates and some 500 Bearded Priests swelled the ranks of Lucereon's army.

That done, Lucereon decided to head back to Tyrosh with an army numbering 14,000 strong, still not enough if he wished to conquer Westeros as his ancestor Aegon the Conqueror did, for unlike the Dragon he did not have dragons. Instead he had to rely on old family loyalties to sow some sort of discord within Westeros, Robb Reyne an old and grey man now, closer to eighty than seventy still had friends in Westeros who wished to seat a Black Dragon on the throne. That was how Jarryck Lothston had come to work for Bloodraven, the Lothstons had betrayed Lucereon's father at Redgrass but had been treated disgracefully by the Targaryens since, Jarryck worked under Bloodraven's tutelage and learnt many of the man's secrets and spies, it was he who suggested the idea of marrying off Prince Baelor to his niece Jasmine in order to remove Baelor from the game. That done, King Brynden would have no choice but to march on Harrenhal, leaving the city in the hands of his son the green boy Prince Maelor and a hand who not many people trusted let alone liked.

Still going straight for King's Landing would be too risky, they needed to go for a region that was experiencing some vulnerability at present, Dorne was too strong, and too close to the Pirate King's domain to allow for it to be captured successfully, the Vale was too mountainous and treacherous. The Westerlands held no Blackfyre loyalists anymore, and the north was too barren a wasteland to be of much use. No it would have to be the Stormlands, Robar Baratheon the Lord of Storm's End was an old man closing in on sixty now, no longer able to wield his war hammer as effectively as he had once been able to, his son and heir Tyrek Baratheon was a green boy who had been born late in his father's life, married to Rhaelle Targaryen, dreaming of glory, Storm's End would stay out of the conflict so long as it was not threatened, its lands though and its bannermen would be.

Looking at a map of the Stormlands, Lucereon had decided where they would begin their invasion. Summoning the commanders of his army he pointed at Estermont Island and said "Here, we shall capture Estermont and begin our invasion from there." His men had nodded their approval, his son seemed eager for battle, two headed Maelys surely a curse from the gods for their continued insistence on fighting and bleeding Westeros.

Robb Reyne old, brittle and dying though had coughed up a question. "Will that not draw too much attention to our plans though and raise suspicion if we invade before Harrenhal?"

Lucereon had smiled and had merely replied. "Oh but we shall wait, Lord Estermont is an old man and dying, we shall take his castle and then we shall take his lands. And Robar Baratheon will not stop us." They had set sail and taken Estermont without a fight, Lord Estermont had died during their voyage and his son Elmar was a practical man who realised when a cause was futile. Sat in Estermont castle Lucereon had plotted and planned his next move, he had known that they would need to work quickly before Storm's End got wind of their movements and so ordering the force split up, the might of the Golden Company came with him all 10,000 of them, the 500 from Lys as well, whilst the 500 from Pentos were sent under the command of Lucereon's brother in law Matarys Mopatis to capture Mistwood and the 3,000 men from Norvos and Myr were sent to take Stonehelm.

The ships sailed from Greenstone, and Lucereon and the Golden Company bloodlessly took Rain House, bloodlessly for them at least, the castle's garrison numbered some 20 men the rest were all off dealing with some man calling himself the Vulture King in the Dornish Marches. Rain House, Mistwood, Estermont and Stonehelm all belonged to them by the time Lucereon received a report from his second in command Daven Rivers that a force was marching from King's Landing made up of men from the southern Riverlands and half the city watch of King's Landing. That was when Lucereon smiled and sent a raven to a friend in Starpike ordering him to begin marching on King's Landing, and sent another raven ordering the men in Stonehelm to begin marching toward Griffin's Roost, they would take Prince Maelor in the rear.

Two weeks after the ravens were sent, Lucereon and his men the Golden Dragons they had named themselves, the fools, were camped in Rainwood Forest waiting and watching. Prince Maelor had marched from King's Landing with the Hand of the King Edwyle Stark and some 10,000 men, more men than Lucereon had expected him to have. From what his sources had told him Prince Aegon and Prince Duncan of Summerhall were busy fighting alongside the Dornish lords trying to quell the bandit Vulture King and his 200 followers, a tricky campaign if rumour were to be believed given that the man was said to be a native of Summerhall after all. Lords Cafferen, Grandison and Fell had marched with Prince Aegon, meaning that Prince Maelor was most likely marching with the city watch all of the Hand's Guard and perhaps a few of the Stormlords in the northern part of the region, soon enough they would know.

"Prince Maelor has been sighted Your Grace, on the outskirts of the forest." Ser Daven Rivers reported.

Lucereon nodded and replied "Good, tell the men to saddle up, we shall wait for the boy here."

Maelor was a green boy with no experience in warfare though his father was a brilliant commander, which was why Lucereon knew he had brought Stark with him, the man was a fierce warrior and commander and likely would try and keep Maelor in line. However, Maelor was Prince of Dragonstone, heir to the Iron Throne and would more than likely wish to prove himself, and Lucereon would use that against him, by luring him into a trap. " Matarys and the Pentoshi are ready Maelys?" Lucereon asked his son and heir.

Maelys huge head nodded and his son's deep voice sounded from his helm. "Yes father, uncle Matarys has his archers lined up on the ridge in the entrance to the forest waiting for the signal."

Lucereon nodded, and then waited and waited before he heard the sound of the elephants trumpeting, drawing his sword from its scabbard he sounded the attack and so the Battle of Rainwood Forest began. Hacking and slashing, Lucereon cut down men left, right and centre, the only thing he had ever truly been sure of in his life was fighting and here he was doing it once more. A cut here, a duck there, a slash in the centre and the enemy continued to fall down around him, the ground soon became littered with the bodies of his foes.

His sword was stained with blood when he came face to face with Prince Maelor, he knew it was the prince of Dragonstone by the boy's armour, black as night with rubies encrusted in it to make the shape of the three headed red Targaryen dragon. Lucereon said not a word, but cut down more foes to get closer to the Prince, and when their swords clashed, steel screeched on steel and the dance began once more. Hacking, slashing, ducking and dodging, on and on the dance went both men swinging their swords to the point of exhaustion neither able to land more than a single cut on the other, before they would break contact and wheel their horses away to come back and try anew.

The Targaryen prince swung his sword aiming for Lucereon's neck, but Lucereon managed to lift his sword up in time to block the blow, and retaliated with a few quick swings of his own, a hack that dented the boy's left shoulder plate, a swing that chipped his helm, a cut that pierced through the armour above his heart. On and on the dance went, swinging, hacking and cutting until Lucereon finally decided that enough was enough, he had gauged all he could from the boy and had found him lacking, he swung once knocking the boy's sword out of his hand, and with a bellowed command a score of arrows reigned down near them, one of which hit the boy's horse, knocking him down to the ground. Lucereon dismounted from his horse and walked toward the boy with his sword raised, all the while neither man uttered a single word.

The fighting still raged around them, but for Lucereon it was if time had stopped, somewhere deep inside of him some part of him was screaming for him to get back on his horse and ride as hard as he could for the ships, another part was screaming for him to get this over with already and to kill the boy. He whispered "Valarr Morghulis." Before he brought the sword down and pierced Maelor Targaryen's throat, thrusting the sword deeper and deeper until the boy no longer choked on his own blood, not a sound came from Maelor's throat or mouth. He was dead, victory seemed guaranteed and yet Lucereon felt very hollow, so very hollow.

As he stood looking at Maelor Targaryen's lifeless corpse, Lucereon felt numb, surely he should feel a sense of justice, a sense of triumph, he had just gotten rid of another potential rival to his and his children's throne, and yet something inside of him simply could not compute that with what he saw, a young man who had lost his life to early. Around him the battle still raged, the battle to ensure he and Maelys after him could sit an ugly iron chair, is that why his father had rebelled all those years ago, so that he could condemn his children to a life of feeling numb and empty? He knew not, he only knew now that he could not be bothered to fight anymore, but he would have to, he had started this and he would see it to the end.

As if on cue, he saw men carrying the banners of House Stark riding fast towards him, he tiredly lifted his sword and raised it to defend himself as one of the men swung at him, Lucereon blocked the blow and instead pushed hard enough to knock the man to the ground. Another man swung at him, Lucereon ducked the swing and stabbed the man's horse killing it, blood pooled from the horse's neck when he pulled his sword out of it. A third man swung his sword over Lucereon's head and then brought it down before Lucereon could duck, he felt the blow hit the back of his helm with such force that he felt his knees give way and he dropped to the ground stunned.

Through the clanging in his head and his increasingly blurry vision he saw a man wearing blue armour dismount, wielding a sword that shined like ice in the fading sunlight. The man had dark brown hair and a beard that was beginning to grey. "Lucereon Blackfyre, pretender to the throne and killer of young men. Your army has been defeated, you shall die now. I Edwyle Stark Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North and Hand of the King, in the name of Brynden Targaryen first of his name King of the Seven Kingdoms, do sentence you to die. Is there anything you would say before your death?"

Lucereon coughed and noticed blood was flowing down his lips by the tangy taste in his mouth, the man had hit him harder than he thought. "Only that the war continues, even now a host is marching from the Reach to take King's Landing in my son's name."

Stark sighed, and said "Force his head down." Lucereon felt his head get shoved onto a stump, he heard the drawing of a sword, and then he closed his eyes and prayed his son would be successful or at least would be spared from death. He was praying when Ice came down on his neck and cleaned his head off of his body.

On the seventh day of the seventh month of the 249th Year After Aegon's Landing, Lucereon Blackfyre the last of Daemon Blackfyre's sons was killed, executed on orders of Hand of the King Edwyle Stark, during the Sixth Blackfyre rebellion, the same day Lucereon had killed Prince Maelor Targaryen.