King Daeron Stark
Three wars, three defeats. That thought was something that stung as well as motivated Daeron Stark, King in the North and the Iron Islands. He had fought in three wars to seat the rightful Kings of Westeros on the Iron Throne, and each time somehow his objective had been denied to him. Daemon died at Redgrass, his own misjudgement cost them Aemon at the Weeping Water, and some freak arrows managed to cost them at Old God's Ridge though Aegon still lived. It seemed as if the gods were testing Daeron, through the heartbreak and the anger, testing him to see if he would hold true to his oath, the oath he had sworn before the heart tree, to see one of his brother's descendants on the Iron Throne. Others who had sworn to the cause were either dead or had given up, Robb Reyne had died in exile his son Lord Terrence Reyne had bent the knee to the Targaryens and the fact his own son and heir was a hostage to the throne meant he would not rise up in rebellion. House Osgrey, had been hit badly by the wars their lord Addam Osgrey slain, the house looking as if it might face severe recompense.
Of the old guard only he and Aegor were left and Aegor was in exile across the narrow sea in Tyrosh planning and plotting more moves and invasions. The end of the third Blackfyre war had seen Daeron and his men return home, beaten and scarred but not broken, not yet. The memories of Daemon still remained in the minds of his bannermen, but still his lords wanted reasons and justifications for why they should continue to fight for a throne they cared nothing about. Daeron had told him his honest beliefs, that they owed it to Daemon and to themselves, to their sons and daughters and all those who were yet to be born that they continue to fight to put a Blackfyre on the Iron Throne, the Targaryen dynasty was weakening by the year, and soon the moment would be right. He had promised not to march south again until an opportunity that was too good to miss arose, that had been four years ago now, and so far nothing had arisen.
Oh there was talk of unrest and unhappiness in the south, but Daeron knew that none of those southerners would risk rebelling not yet anyway; certain things had to be in motion before they would feel comfortable in rebelling. Though there had been some interesting developments in the Riverlands, House Bracken once Daemon's strongest ally in the south had pushed House Blackwood from the Riverlands, under some pretext or the other, mainly to get more lands for themselves. There had been much fighting, something that has lasted for two years following the ending of the third Blackfyre war, and it had ended with Raventree Hall being left in ruins, House Blackwood fleeing north and House Bracken gaining all the land that had once been Blackwood's. Daeron's sources had reported that House Bolton was meant to benefit from this as well, they were supposed to get Raventree Hall, but its ruination and the fact that House Bracken still had most of their men left at the end of the battle, ensured that Domeric Bolton did not press his claim for the lands.
House Blackwood had fled north led by Lord Dorren Blackwood's heir Malcolm Blackwood, the lad had been fourteen when he had arrived at the gates of Moat Cailin beaten and broken with some 200 men and women and children at his back, begging to be granted asylum in the north. Daeron had spent much time debating whether or not to let them into the north, he knew the value of having House Blackwood in the north, all the houses that followed the old gods being in the north was surely a sign from the old gods themselves. However, he had not forgotten how they had sided against Daemon and his son during the last few wars, ultimately he decided that they would be let in and had ordered a castle built for them at Sea Dragon Point, but he had told young Dorren Blackwood that they would need to prove their loyalty before he would give them anything more.
There had been other issues during the four years since the ending of the war as well. Daeron's son Jorah and his wife had had their first child, a son they had named Torrhen, the heir to the Princedom of the Three Sisters, had his father's brown hair and long face, but his mother's blue eyes and fiery temper it seemed. Another child had been born to them as well, another boy they had named Laenor, this child was pure Stark in look, and seemed to be quite quiet and solemn, though he was only two so it was hard just yet for Daeron to judge. Both children had been given Direwolf pups, which Edwyle had procured from a female direwolf he had managed to bring from the Wolfswood. Daeron's eldest son and heir had also had his first son, a boy named Daemon who had Arianne's black hair, and tanned skin but had the same purple eyes as Aegor did. The child had been born a year ago, and his birth was celebrated massively in Winterfell and the entire kingdom, the heir had an heir the succession was further secured.
Daeron's youngest daughter by Arianne, Elaena had also had children. A set of twins with Lord Donnor Reed, the Lord of Greywater Watch. The children had been named Donnel and Serena, and were both reflections of Elaena with their silver hair and violet eyes. Daeron wondered if they would have her gift of the sight as well when they grew, but as of now he was not willing to pry too much into his daughter's children, not yet. Another of Daeron's daughter's Lyanna had wed Beron Umber the heir to Last Hearth, Beron Umber's great grandsire Hothar Umber had died on the Old God's Ridge, dying as he had lived, a sword in hand.
His children were all growing up so quickly that it was beginning to catch up with him, just exactly how many years had passed since this had all begun. There were times when Daeron found himself questioning whether what he was doing was the right thing, not in supporting the Blackfyres, that he knew was the right thing to do, but in other things, whether he had made the right choices with regards to the actual governing of his kingdom and whether or not his children would do alright once he was gone. Such questions often haunted his dreams as of late, and nothing he did seemed to get rid of them, it was beginning to worry him.
Still he had other issues to consider he had matters of state and kingdom to discuss, and that was why he was sat in court at the present time listening to petitions drag on and on. An old man, from the Wolfswood was complaining of the presence of Direwolves and how they were scaring away the good game for him and his, Daeron told the man he would look into the matter and have it settled. A woman came forth then, sobbingly she told him of how bandits had come in the middle of the night and slain her husband and two sons and left her with nothing but a ruin of a house. Daeron asked her where the men were now and she said she knew not. Daeron looked at his cousin then and Edwyle nodded, they would find the men Daeron told her and they would be dealt with most sufficiently.
Another several petitions seemed to come and go before Daeron's eyes, all about some minor matter or squabble all of which were settled relatively easily, and then court was called to an end, and Daeron walked from the room to the council chamber. As he waited for the other members to enter, he opened up the book of the Winter's Guard, his brother Theon had left it here during the last meeting, he browsed through the entries until he got to the list of the current members. Lord Commander Theon Stark, Asphell Wull, Rickard Karstark, Jeyne Mormont, Beric Dustin, Lewyn Reed, Mors Harlaw, Owen Norrey and Daeron's own son Brandon Stark. Brandon had joined the guard just after the last war, stating that he neither wished to marry nor have children nor simply wished to serve his king. Daeron had considered arguing with him about that point but had later decided to accept his son's wishes, after all he would only learn more about how to be a warrior from his fellow guardsmen, more than Daeron could teach him for certain.
The doors opened and the other council members walked in. High Steward Edwyle Stark looking grim as always, master of coin, Lord Rodwell Manderly, High Admiral of the Northern Fleet Rodrick Greyjoy, High Shadow Ethan Glover, old and wizened Grand Maester Tywin and finally Lord Commander of the Winter's Guard, Daeron's own brother Theon Stark. Once all the members were seated Daeron spoke. "My lords I thank you for coming. It has been sometime since we last met, I would hear what has been happening in the realm since then."
Ethan Glover, Lord of Deepwood Motte spoke then. "There have been no disturbances in the kingdom since the war Your Grace. Though my sources do have news on these bandits that the woman from the village brought before you today." Daeron nodded for Ethan to continue and he spoke. "These men are bandits from the south who came with Dorren Blackwood when he fled from the riverlands, they wear Blackwood's coat of arms on their armour and clothes when they raid villages, and they claim to be doing their work in their master's name."
Edwyle spoke then. "And has Blackwood given a response to these outlaws' claims? Do they truly ride underneath his banner?"
"From the ravens I have sent to the man, he fervently denies the claims of the outlaws and says that they are not men he would keep around neither him nor his family. He begs the king leave to bring these men to justice." Ethan replied.
Daeron nods then and says. "Very well, write back to Blackwood Ethan and tell him he may do just that, I will want the heads of these men as proof of his work and loyalty. Now what other issues are there to discuss?"
Rodrick Greyjoy, Daeron's nephew spoke then. "There is Your Grace. My men apprehended a ship from Lannisport that had Ser Tion Lannister on it. My uncle writes that after much questioning, the man finally admitted that he was trying to come to Winterfell as a spy to assess the strength of the kingdom."
Daeron sighs for a moment. "Ah so the spying has begun once more has it? I am glad you thought to question the man Rodrick. Very well did the man say anything else?"
"No Your Grace. He did not even say who it was that sent him. Just that he had been sent to find out the strength of Winterfell and the North." Rodrick replied.
Daeron thought for a moment and then said. "Tell your uncle to let the man go. He has seen nothing other than the cells of Pyke; he will have nothing to report. Now what else is there that needs discussing?"
Grand Maester Tywin spoke then his voice raspy and tired sounding, the man was pushing a hundred and soon enough would be gone from the world. "Word from the citadel Your Grace. I have informed them of my ailing health and they have sent me a list of people that they are considering as my replacement." The man unfurled a piece of paper and then read the names of the list. "Maester Ballabar, Maester Cronin, Maester Devon, Maester Aemon, Maester Davos."
At the name Aemon, Daeron's ears perked up. "Did you say Aemon maester? Do you mean Aemon Targaryen?"
Maester Tywin smiled slightly then and said. "Aye Your Grace, I do. Aemon Targaryen has earnt his chain and has been serving as maester of the citadel for some time now ever since his brother Daeron's death. It is said he is one of the best upcoming talents the citadel has seen in quite a while."
"Now would that not be ironic, if a Targaryen served as Grand Maester of the kingdom. Surely the citadel will not be mad enough to send a Targaryen here?" Lord Rodwell asked.
Daeron said nothing he merely thought about it, would they send him Maekar's boy? Would they truly be foolish enough to do that? Who knew what the citadel would do. "Regardless, if there is nothing more I would like to speak with my cousin alone for now." The other members left and then it was just Daeron and Edwyle left. "How are Melissa and her children doing cousin?" Daeron asked.
His cousin coughed slightly and then said. "They are well Your Grace. Melissa has become a grandmother, her eldest son Jeor has had a boy with the Karstark girl he wed."
Daeron nodded. "That is good cousin, but they cannot be your heirs Edwyle, you must marry and soon."
His cousin merely nodded and asked. "I take it the girl has flowered then?"
"Flowered and come of age cousin. The wedding will take place in two moons time, and you will get her with child. I will not have Moat Cailin fall into the hands of a southerner."
Bittersteel
The screams echoed in his head, the banners of the black dragon he had dedicated his life to had flapped in the wind that day. That day, had become Redgrass or was the Roads? He was not sure anymore, but all he knew was that he had fought a battle there, and broken the Arryn host, had slain Lord Arryn and then had retreated north when he had seen the stampede, his men would have been overwhelmed he knew that, had said it numerous times to make himself feel better, and yet it still stung. They had been so close to victory, so close to destiny and it had been snatched from them, by some bastard with a good aim and some blood sense in his head.
They had retreated north, like whipped curs, and had cursed and shouted and yelled when they had reached Moat Cailin. Bitterness was not a word to be used, it felt more like betrayal and yet there was nothing they could do, they had retreated they could not very well return south again and attack, they'd be destroyed. So he'd led the company to White Harbour and from there they had sailed to Tyrosh. Where they had spent the first two years after the war nursing hurts and pain, and drinking, lots of drinking had happened, a way to drown the pain.
Robb Reyne had died in those two years, from a wound he had taken. The death had been long and agonising, and Aegor's friend had screamed and screamed for release, and so he'd given it to him. Slitting his throat with his sword in the dead of the night and then leaving. He'd sent word to Castamere to inform Robb's son of his death, there had been no response but Aegor had later learn that the boy had sworn undying loyalty to the Iron Throne, the traitor. Others had died as well, broken and old. Daemon's goodfather had died last year, eighty years old and so cold and broken he knew not where he was from or who he was. Daemon's wife had died as well, from a fever and a broken heart. The boys had mourned her passing but they had gorged themselves on fighting in the Disputed Lands.
It seemed the only thing they were likely to win was a battle in the Disputed Lands that last one had been the fourth such battle the company had fought since being founded. It had been a bloody struggle, Tyrosh had sided with Lys in the fighting this time, but Myr had employed help from Bravos and Pentos and so the fighting had raged for a year. On and off, the fighting had helped Aegor and his men get over their pain from the last failed Blackfyre war. The bloody struggle, the chaos of it all that was what he lived for now, on and on it had gone until the sand of the lands ran red with the blood of many fallen foes. Myr was beaten, Lys and Tyrosh claimed dominion over half of the lands equally. The company was paid and then they retreated back to the city.
A new generation of commanders had come to take the place of the old guard. These commanders were not so willing to focus on Westeros as the old guard had been, they were more concerned with earning gold and spending it in the brothels. Their discipline was beginning to fall, but Aegor had managed to keep them all in line, more through fear than anything else. Monterys as the spymaster kept tabs on Westeros and once or twice there had been the suggestion of perhaps invading, but it always was shot down, they had insufficient funds, they had not enough allies, they did not have enough men. All were true, but it was beginning to grate on Aegor's nerves, but then more fighting arrived in the form of fighting between Lys and Tyrosh and so his anger was forgotten for a time. Lys was beaten, and Tyrosh held the disputed lands, for now at least, the Archon though was growing weary of having the company in his city, and was making moves to remove them from it. Or at least he had been, before he had been killed by one of the men. The new Archon was more amenable to their needs.
There were other things on Aegor's mind as well, that made staying in Tyrosh preferable. His family had grown, his fifth child had been born recently, a girl he had called Selena. He had three sons and two daughters, Daemon, Daeron and Aegon all served as squires to members of the company, Selena was betrothed to Aerion's own son Aenar and his other daughter Barbra was in Westeros working as a septa in King's Landing, though her black hair and blue eyes made many think she was a Baratheon, it was from her that Aegor got most of his own information about the city.
Aerion, the mad prince, had become like a son to Aegor as well, the boy had gone from being mad to being quite stable, and was a fine swordsman and commander, he had proved himself countless times over the years. The fact that his son was close to Aegor's own son Daeron made things a lot easier as well, it gave them something to talk of when they were not discussing battle plans. It was strange, Aegor had never thought he would care about such things, but in his old age he increasingly was. Perhaps this was why both Daemon and Daeron had been so keen on having children, there was a sense of fulfilment and pride one got from seeing your children achieve something.
And things between he and Shiera had improved markedly, as well. She had become his lover, and confidant and all those things he had so desperately wanted with her since he had been a child. She had finally told him why she had gone for Bloodraven all those years ago something about him not being angry all the time and being more learned than Aegor was. He had drunk a lot of wine when this conversation had been held in their bed after a night of feasting; he had told her he had loved her since he had first lain eyes on her as a child, and that he would do anything for her. He hoped she loved him back and that what they had would last; otherwise he knew not what he would do with her.
"Ser?" came a hesitant voice from beyond the tent flap, Aegor opened his eyes, and saw that Shiera was still in his arms, fast asleep, his head was hurting though.
"What is it?" he called.
"Ser Haegon has called a meeting of the commanders Ser. He requests your presence." The voice replied.
"Very well. I shall be out in a few moments." Aegor replied. He got up out of bed and then dressed into his black doublet. Shiera slept soundly on in their bed, he kissed her hand and then walked out into the blazing heat, and then walked into the command tent, where Haegon, Monterys, Maegon, Aerion as well as Ser Devon Ambrose and Ser Garth Strickland were sat.
"Ah good nuncle now that you are here we may begin." Haegon said, the boy, well he was no longer a boy, but he would always be as such to Aegor, began looking more and more like Daemon with each passing year, it was as if he were looking at a ghost. "Now as you know, there have been some small disturbances in the Disputed Lands, but that is not the true matter as to why this meeting has been summoned. We sent word to Volantis sometime ago asking for an audience with the Triarchs, and they have finally responded."
"And what have they said Haegon?" Aegor asked, he could feel his age beginning to catch up with him.
"They have agreed to give us more men and coin. Free of interest, and free of repayment. At least the tigers have. The elephant remains ignorant of the deal, but he will soon be elected out of power." Haegon replied
"Haegon, we must have all the Triarchs on our side for the plan to work. The elephants hold the finances for Volantis and they will not part with it for some small profit on their own end. You could bring more war down on us." Aegor said sharply.
Haegon spoke then his voice calm. "The leader of the elephants is an old and done man. He will not be doing anything, and the others will not do anything without his say so. We shall be fine uncle. Now we must discuss where we shall head to next."
Aegor though needed to make his nephew see the error of his ways. In a voice that was as sharp as any he had used on the boys when they were still children he said. "No we must discuss this move of yours. The tigers have not held all three seats of power since the days of Aegon the Dragon. Even now their hold on Volantis is weak, the elephants will come back into power and we shall not have what we need. We must renegotiate the deal for something that will not come back and bite us."
Haegon seemed as if he were about to argue but then Monterys the voice of reason spoke. "He is right brother. Uncle Aegor is right, we must reconsider and treat the tigers with suspicion otherwise we shall sink and our goals will go down the drain."
Haegon eventually concedes and sighing says. "Very well write to them then and tell them we need some time before we sign off on the deal. Now where shall we head next?"
Aerion spoke then, the boy who had become like a son to Aegor, who had matured and become sane under his watch. "I believe we should remain in Tyrosh, at the moment there might be a conflict in the Disputed Lands which could serve us well, and other than that there are no other conflicts that could serve our purpose."
Haegon speaks then. "Stay here? Are you mad Aerion? There are conflicts brewing in Slaver's bay between Yunkai and Meeren, we could take as much plunder and experience as we could from that, and you wish to remain here? In a city where we might not have a home should the next Archon not be favourable to us?"
"I wish to protect my family Haegon. I cannot do that if I am away in Yunkai can I? There are people who would see us all dead." Aerion replied his voice markedly calm.
Haegon snorted. "You have grown soft Aerion. Perhaps my sister truly does have you by the balls. If you are so unmanned by the thought of leaving them behind for a few weeks."
"Enough." Aegor roars, stopping the argument from going any further. "You are not girls to bicker needlessly. Aerion has a point, but fighting against Meeren could prove very useful for us. The Yunkish are good allies to have, and so we must consider the options. Haegon when would we need to leave if we were to fight for them?"
Haegon looks at the paper before him and says. "A moon's turn if we were to fight for them uncle. And 500 thousand gold dragons for the plunder."
"The gold is not the important matter, we must finalise everything with Volantis first before we decide what to do next. Monterys that shall be your job and Haegon next time hold your tongue before speaking." Aegor says with the air of command he has established.
Later as he is sat in his tent reading through various ledgers and such, Shiera wraps her arms around him and begins kissing him. "I hear you might be going to Yunkai soon Aegor." She purrs.
"Aye and what if we are, you shall be remaining here." Aegor says gruffly.
"Well I might know someone who could help you win the battle there much easier." She replies.
"Who?" Aegor asks.
"A priestess, named Quaithe." Shiera replies.