5th Moon, 63 AC
Feast Hall of Dragonstone
The day was meant to be one of celebration, but as so often was the case on the Dragonstone, the mood was somber and grim in the dimly lit hall, and even the celebration itself left a bitter taste in the Prince's mouth, souring the wine, music and congratulations of the present lords.
The taste of defeat He thought sullenly to himself.
Beside him sat the woman he was taking to wife, the Lady Selyse Scales, the daughter of Lady Mhaegen Scales, Baroness of the small castle of Windwyrm, a young woman of 19 years with brown braids, gray eyes and dressed in an elaborate dress of purple silk and silver cloth.
The Prince's disappointment did not come from any ill will towards the woman, by all accounts she would make a good wife, she was humble and unselfish and had the reputation of being hard working, helping manage the castle of Windwyrm for her elderly mother, which would help greatly in managing the household of Dragonstone.
He had nothing against the woman, but the truth was apparent to all who had come to the wedding, this was a poor and paltry match for a Targaryen prince.
To be sure Prince Vaekar had tried to broker a more advantageous marriage. Lord Otho Arryn of the Vale had a daughter, but had not responded to his proposal of a betrothal, even after the weakening of his alliance with his sister following Syaellas death. He had reached out to Andrey Tully with the possibility of a match between himself and his daughter, such a match could win him the dragon Moondancer to his side, but the Lord of Riverrun had responded by saying such a match would not be in the best interests of his family.
Lord after Lord, Lady after Lady of houses great and small had refused his proposals, some had been polite and apologetic, others firm and blunt and others had not even deigned to respond, but no matter their method, the answer was always the same.
Fear of royal disapproval alone was not enough to elicit such a stone wall amongst the lords Vaekar knew, even with the fear his sisters name carried amongst the lords of the realm, there were always ambitious men who would be willing to take a risk to gain such a polarizing ally as the Prince.
No, this was something else. Ever since his sister had released him from the tower cell after her arrival in Kings Landing following their fathers death, rumors, slander and false information surrounded the Prince, weakening his reputation with every passing day.
There was no singular rumor that assailed him, but rather a host. The most common had to do with his age and marital status, claiming that a thirty year old Prince that had never taken a wife surely preferred all manner of unnatural companies, with small boys, animals, and even his own dragon being bandied about.
Even his reputation as a battle commander, gained by spending almost half his life fighting pirates in countless campaigns in the Stepstones as Master of Ships was sullied, with the gossip claiming that instead of fighting the Pirates, the Prince was instead in league with them, with one rumor going so far as to claim the Prince used Dragonstone and its lighthouses as a haven to purposefully wreck ships off the coast, splitting the profits with his pirate allies who would slaughter the survivors.
There were others, some inventive while others were almost too fantastical to be true, but the end result was the same, Prince Vaekar had become a dark, mysterious figure in the realm, abhorred by some of the realms more gullible rulers, and distrusted by even the most skeptical, where there was smoke there was fire after all.
My sister's work The Prince thought sullenly, as always the thought of his sister spreading like a bitter venom throughout his body, he had no proof of course, but it was clear enough who was behind it, who gained the most from his reputation being damaged amongst the lords of the realm.
She had played him for a fool from the beginning. Taking their father and keeping him on Dragonstone to use his failing health to her own advantage had been a master stroke. He had known his father was ailing, but upon her return to the capitol Cymella, his own twin sister had lied and told him he would be returning shortly and in good health, Laenas arrival in the capitol and the news of his fathers death had taken him completely by surprise, and he was powerless to resist as his greatest ally Lord Tully, who had plotted with the Prince to stage a coup in King's Landing upon his fathers death was not even at court.
The thought of his father also stirred emotions throughout the Prince, albeit different ones than his sister's name had. There was anger of course, long simmering and dulled yet there nonetheless, stemming from his disinheritance as a child, but there was also sadness. His father had been a good man, and he had not even been able to be at his fathers side at the end, Laena had denied him that…..her and Cymella, the fact that his own twin sister had abandoned him for Laenas cause was also never far from his mind.
The thought had also crossed his mind that perhaps his fathers death was not truly natural. Laena would certainly have gained some advantage from their father perishing on Dragonstone, but even Vaekar had to reluctantly admit this was unlikely, whatever her flaws he knew that Laena had genuinely cared for the old man, and he had loved her back and given her his favor….that was the worst thing. For all his accomplishments, all the praise his father bestowed upon him after a victory against pirates in the Stepstones, he had never once seen his father look upon him like he did upon Laena.
He knew what she was Vaekar brooded. To be sure his sister had always played the loving daughter with him, an act she had perfected but he had to have known. After his sister had murdered the plague fisherman on Dragonstone he had once broached the topic with his father, suggesting that Laena was not truly who she pretended to be.
He would never forget the look on his fathers face, he had never seen him so uncomfortable, yet in that discomfort there was truth…his father knew what Laena was….for years he had pretended not to see, avoided what was right in front of him, but in that moment he could not hide from it, the truth was on his face, written for all to see.
He knew what she was…and favored her anyway Vaekar thought before his hand drifted to the seven pointed star amulet upon his neck.
Father have mercy on his soul He thought.
He knew the reason why his father favored her….it was not just because of her claiming of the dragon Vhagar. He had known since he was a small child and had overheard his father telling his mother that Laena was like their own mother Visenya reborn, from her temperament to her way with Vhagar and his decision to name her his heir had shouted the truth…..his own father saw little of Aegon the Conqueror in him, and that stung worst of all.
He was shaken from his brooding by the gentle touch of a hand on his own, the hand of his wife.
''I know this is not the marriage you would have wished for.'' The young woman said, hesitantly meeting his eyes.
He turned to her with surprise, not sure how to respond to that, his normally sharp mind was muddled from the wine, the smoke of the hall and the thoughts of his father and sister, and his mouth was as if filled with sand.
What could he say…..of course it was not the marriage he would have wished for….it brought the loyalty of just five hundred men, men who were already sworn to him as his vassals besides. It was a poor marriage for a man of his position, and one he had almost not even consented too, the Prince was a stubborn man and even when it was clear that his reputation had been damaged too much within the realm for a good match he had wanted to keep looking, but he knew that the longer he went unmarried the more credence it gave to the rumors about him, and he could not imagine gaining any significant support for his claim until he had produced an heir apparent.
His silence told the young woman everything she needed to know about his thoughts on the matter and slowly withdrew her hand from his, bowing her head in shame, obviously trying to prevent the tears from showing.
In that moment Vaekar had never before felt so ashamed, he was a Targaryen Prince, the blood of the dragon and the conqueror ran through his veins, and he was acting a boy, sullen and feeling sorry for himself, and worse of all he had shamed his wife, who was not to blame for his current situation.
It was all of these feelings and more that made the Prince stand from his seat, causing the lords in attendance for the wedding to stop their conversations.
It was a small gathering, in large part due to the prince's reputation among the lords of Westeros. The elderly Lady Scales, who despite her modest means had spared no expense on her daughter's dowry, was of course in attendance, along with her husband Ser Mathos. Lord Bar Emmon was there as well, an ambitious but kindhearted man with a good military mind. The only guest from the mainland was Lord Massey, a fat man of 61 with a brood of 15 children both legitimate and natural born, and the only lord not bound by vassalage to support Vaekars claim. The man had even offered the hand of one of his bastard daughters to Vaekar but he had politely refused, bastards were born of sin and despite their friendship, Vaekar would never wed a bastard no more than he would his own blood.
It was a small gathering to be sure, humble and paltry, but in that moment it did not matter to Vaekar, he was the blood of the dragon, he was Prince Vaekar Targaryen, not a sullen boy and so long as he lived he would never let himself embrace defeat so much as he had tonight.
He scanned the room, waiting for silence.
When he had it, he spoke, gently taking his wife by the hand and bringing her to her feet.
''I would like to propose a toast.'' The Prince of Dragonstone said, raising his goblet in the air.
''To Lady Selyse….your future and rightful Queen.'' Vaekar said with confidence.
A silence filled the hall as those in attendance raised their glasses, some more enthusiastically than others, with some exchanging rather nervous glances, all in attendance knew the ramifications and meaning of the princes comment, and the bard with the harp servicing the wedding was no different, though none noticed his subtle exit from the hall, or so the man thought.
The aura of nervousness was evident on almost all the faces in the hall, all except the Prince of Dragonstone, who smiled as he raised the glass to his lips.
Bring on your storm sweet sister Prince Vaekar thought as he watched the bard scuttle from the hall.
6th Moon, 63 AC
Red Keep, Kings Landing
A light snow fell outside the windows of Laenas chamber, the frosty glass illuminated by the roaring hearth in the Queens solar.
The Queen sat in her chair shuffling through reports collected and given to her to read at her convenience by her new spymaster, Alaric the Black Bard. In truth she wanted nothing more to do with damnable bards and poets, but the existing spy network of bards in the realm was very substantial and it would be foolish to not make use of it.
The Black Bard had been one of the chief members of the network, primarily traveling between the castles of the Riverlands, using Harrenhal as a base. His reports came in frequently and were especially valuable since the Riverlands were the only region of the seven Kingdoms with access to a fully grown dragon, Moondancer. The man was more hardworking than the Blue Bard had been, presenting the Queen with neatly sorted reports at the beginning of each week, unlike the Blue Bard who had clearly withheld much information and only verbally reported to her occasionally, in addition to this, the man was greedy and as long as she rewarded him properly, he would be easy to control.
Two of her daughters were also in the solar with her to keep her company. Larissa was stretched out in front of the fire playing with one of her many cats, while little Daeoril sat quietly stitching something with her sewing needle, which she carried around with her as most children her age would carry a doll.
The Queen had to smile at the sight, once again affirming that no step done in defense of her daughters was too far, they were all that mattered in this world and anyone that threatened her position threatened theirs by extension and would be dealt with accordingly.
She turned her attention back to the reports. By far the most important of them came from the Westerlands, a situation she had already been made aware of but nevertheless she scanned the report for more details.
Fiona Lannister, Lady of Casterly Rock and Lady Paramount of the Westerlands had been struck by a stray arrow behind the main lines while observing her levies driving off a large force of Ironborn raiders just outside of Lannisport. The report detailed that the Casterly Rock and overlordship of the Westerlands had fallen to her son, a boy of 9 years old.
The Queen smiled at this, though for a much different reason than the sight of her daughters. She had not forgotten that it had been the Lannisters that had led the greatest revolt the Targaryens had faced during her fathers reign.
Let them try to plot treason against their Queen under the leadership of a boy of 9 Laena thought, still smiling faintly.
The next report was closer to home. Her sister Cymella had apparently given birth to a little girl in Storms End, whom she was calling Marena Baratheon, though all involved knew the girl was a bastard, not only for her Dornish appearance, but also for the fact that Cymella and Raymont had not shared a bed in years.
She cannot remain in Storms End forever Laena thought, her husband Raymont was still away on campaign defending the Dornish Marches against the Tyrells, but word of his ''daughters'' birth would soon reach him. Raymont Baratheon was a wrothful man and he had already beaten his sister once before, should he survive the war and the ongoing plot against his life long enough to return from campaign to Storm's End, there was little doubt in her mind that Raymont would beat her to death.
The thought disquieted Laena more than she would admit, and she had even considered ordering a hasty attempt on Raymonts life, it would be easy enough to have him killed, killing him without having suspicion fall on her was a different matter however, which was why the plot had gone on so long.
The smartest option was for Cymella to leave Storms End with young Boros and her daughter for the capital. Laena was of course angry with her younger sister for compromising the family's position and defying her instruction that she was not to have anymore contact with the Blue Bard, but the Queen genuinely cared for her younger sister, and deep down, the Queen, for all of her cruelties felt some guilt for the way her sisters life had turned out, it had been her that had proposed the betrothal between Raymont Baratheon and Cymella to her father. Her sister had put on a mask of nonchalantness and turned to food and drink to cope, but Laena knew that her sister had been feeling lonely for lack of companionship and contact with her son Boros, and the Blue Bard had used this vulnerability to manipulate her.
Despite the fact that Laena would have been willing to host her sister in the capitol and protect her from the wroth of Raymont Baratheon, her sister had made no move to request this. She had not sent any word to the capitol in months.
She suspects Laena thought to herself, sooner or later she would have to speak with her sister about the Blue Bard but that was a problem for another time.
Her musings were cut short by a knock at the door as one of her Kingsguard announced her daughter Lianna, her husband Jaekar and her Hand of the King Rhodry Martell were at the door.
She sighed, she had a feeling what this would be about, but she couldn't put them off any longer, her daughter had tried to request a meeting the previous day following dinner but Laena had said it was too late to speak of such things, but she could hardly refuse her this time.
The three of them entered the room, led by her daughter Lianna.
Her daughter had always been a beautiful girl, and she had grown into a beautiful woman, but there was a hardness on her face that had not been there in the past. Months prior she had taken to the birthing bed for the first time to welcome her first child by Ronnel Baratheon. She had given birth to a small boy with hair black as coal. But the child had never lived and had been stillborn.
Her daughter had not allowed herself time to grieve, immediately throwing herself back into her work as the realm's master-of laws, true to her diligent nature. It had not taken her long to make her opinions on Laenas handling of the war between the Tyrells and the Baratheons and the since ended conflict between Lannister and Greyjoy known and things had become quite tense between the Queen and her eldest daughter.
Her daughter wasted no time ''I've heard the news from the West…..Fiona Lannister was a good woman and vassals, kind to her subjects and content….if you think the realm benefits from her death you are mistaken….you allowed this to happen.''
Laena frowned ''Her death was a tragedy of course….but it was of her own making not mine….that cow had no place being anywhere near a battlefield.''
Lianna scoffed ''A Tragedy…spare me the act mother…..this is what you wanted, to see the realm bleed.''
''Fiona Lannister chose to pursue vengeance against the Greyjoys….as was her right.'' Laena said casually.
''She was forced to due to the crowns inaction, the Greyjoys broke the crowns peace by sacking Lannisport, your Grandfather made it clear that the Ironborns practice of pillaging and reaving within the Kingdoms was abolished…..he would be ashamed to see his granddaughter has such little regard for what he built.'' Lianna replied.
The Queens anger flashed at that ''Mind yourself daughter…..the matter was one between Greyjoy and Lannister and it is done…..finished, The Lady Lannister is dead and the Ironborn have returned to the isles….I will speak no more on it.''
''Very well…..I see that you will not listen to reason….well you will listen to this mother….you will see what bloodletting you have unleashed on the realm.'' Her daughter said sternly, motioning Rhody Martell forward.
Her hand stepped forward ''Your Grace….I have returned from the Dornish Marches…where I attempted to broker a peace between Tyrell and Baratheon.''
''You did what.'' Laena said with fury, she had not even been aware of this mission, the ongoing war was all that kept Tyrell from turning his attention to her sister Alyssanes claim, and Martell had risked everything.
''At the behest of the Princess Lianna.'' Martell answered rather hastily.
''My daughter does not…'' The Queen began.
''When you named me your master of laws you declared to the realm that I speak with your voice….the fighting has gone on long enough…continue my Lord.'' Lianna replied.
''Lords Tyrell and Baratheon refused to meet and discuss terms…..as a Martell I fear I command little respect among them…..I did however come to understand the devastation this war has brought to your Kingdom.'' Her hand continued.
''Thousands have been killed and wounded your Grace….Lord Footly has stormed Haystack Hall while Lord Baratheon sieged Ashford castle into submission and sacked the town of Ashford most severely while the Reachman have captured Nightsong and sacked the Harvest Town….thousands have been killed and wounded in the storming of Peakes Bridge and Holly Hall….and there have been battles as well your Grace….Baratheon defeated Tyrell at Hadlow Keep but was ambushed in the mountains of Blackhaven by the heavy cavalry of the Reach…..there is no end to the war in sight your Grace….many have died already and thousands more will die if nothing is done to stop this bloodletting.''
''It's time to end this Laena.'' Her husband Jaekar said quietly. His ascension as King Consort had not changed his quiet nature, but he did not speak to her with the same subservience that he once had, and was more willing to offer his opinion on matters.
Suddenly a voice from the fire surprised all of them ''It's not right to let them fight mother…..they are dying because of you.''
Laena turned and saw her daughter Larrissa standing, holding her cat in her arms.
''This is no fit subject for a child.'' Laena said harshly to her daughter before glaring accusingly at Lianna ''What have you been telling her.''
Lianna gestured Larrissa over, holding her by the shoulders''My sister is my own ward…by your own decree….as Master of Laws I thought it best she understand the circumstances of the realm…that includes war.''
''She is a child….she should not be told about...'' Laena began.
''Many of the dead in Ashford were children too .'' Her husband said quietly.
Laena was silent at that, looking around the room before her eyes returned to Lianna.
''Leave us…all of you….I must speak with my daughter….alone.'' Laena commanded and her husband and Hand bowed, slowly leaving the chamber.
''I don't want to go.'' Larissa protested, but Lianna whispered something in her younger sister's ear and the girl reluctantly went to little Daeoril, still knitting alone by the window and led her out of the chamber by her hand, leaving the Queen and Lianna alone beside the roaring fire.
''You have a good heart…like your father…it is a weakness in you.'' Laena said quietly, looking into the flames.
''It doesn't have to be.'' Lianna said, joining her mother in front of the fire.
''I know why you are doing this mother….what you think you are doing it for.'' Her daughter continued.
''This war is all that keeps Lord Tyrell from focusing on my sisters claim…this bloodletting as you call it is for your own benefit…for your sisters benefit…..so that we may keep the throne…..so that your birthright will not be stolen.'' Laena continued.
''It's not.'' Lianna said sternly.
Laena opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted once again.
''It is not for our benefit, mother.'' Lianna said before continuing.
''You would see the realm burn and bleed just so that you could rule over its ashes….so that we can sit upon the ashes….you think allowing these wars weakens your potential enemies…but it is the smallfolk…not the Baratheons or Tyrells who suffer the most…the fisherman…the bakers….the children….'' Lianna said.
The Queen did not reply to that.
''If you have any consideration for me…you will find a way to stop this war…..I do not wish to rule a broken realm.'' Lianna said passionately.
''And Tyrell…you are aware of the treason he plots….what will this precious peace of yours accomplish except allow him to strengthen his cause and replenish his armies.'' Laena replied.
''We shall deal with Tyrell when the time comes….if the time comes….give me a chance to find a compromise, in this and with Tyrell….they don't have the dragons to threaten us…they wouldn't be so foolish.''
''And if they are…..'' Laena asked, turning to her daughter.
''Then we destroy them…..'' Lianna said quietly, her mother looking at her with surprise.
''Justice and kindness are not the same mother.'' Her daughter said quietly.
Laena was quiet for a time at that before nodding slowly ''I will consider what you have said.''
Lianna nodded and with a moment's hesitation, gave the Queen's hand a small squeeze before leaving the room.
The Queen sat in front of the fire for a good while…..the beginnings of an idea beginning to come to her.
An hour later she summoned the Black Bard, her spymaster to her chamber, the way forward becoming clear to her.
''Inform my daughter that I have seen the wisdom of her council…give her permission to order Raymont Baratheon and Aumary Tyrell to the peace table by order of their Queen….I shall attend these negotiations myself…I have been perhaps too forward in my attempts to see the great houses weakened.'' Laena commanded.
The bard looked at her with surprise but seeing her expression nodded slowly.
''It will be done as you say your Grace….there is one more thing however that I thought you should be made aware of.'' The bard said.
Laena gestured for him to continue.
He produced a note of parchment from his black robe and handed it to her ''Our spy on Dragonstone reports your brother was heard to rather loudly and publicly refer to the Lady Selyse Scales as the Rightful and Future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms….this was corroborated by a score of servants and knights.''
Laena laughed.
''Your Grace?'' The Black Bard said, clearly puzzled ''Your brother plots treason on Dragonstone….shall I send a letter to Lord Vunatis to travel to the capitol and ready the Royal Fleet to take your brother into custody?''
Laena shook her head ''That is exactly what he wants.''
''Your Grace?'' The man asked, though the dawning of understanding was on his face.
''My dear brother knows he is despised and mistrusted by the Lords of the Realm thanks to our efforts….what better way to gain the sympathy of the Lords of the Realm than by escaping a tyrannical attempt by his sister to seize him, my brother is bold but not a fool, he knows and even hopes I would send the Royal Fleet to apprehend him, my brother has over 60 galleys on Dragonstone and a lifetime of commanding ships…..he would destroy the royal fleet easily, showing the realm that not only is their Queen a tyrant but also that he is a seasoned commander capable of defeating the crown in battle….not a bad plan…i'll give him that much….many and more might flock to his banner with such a victory.'' Laena explained.
''Then we do nothing?'' The bard asked.
The Queen shook her head ''We will do something, but not as publicly as he wants….I perhaps left too much open to interpretation when I allowed him to leave the capitol….I want him brought before me….I will give him this last chance…but he must be made to understand some things about his position….have him brought before me…subtly…do you take my meaning?''
The bard nodded ''Yes your Grace….I take it quite well…I will make the preparations.''
He bowed and turned to leave, walking towards the door.
''Alaric….one more thing.'' She commanded, gesturing him over and whispering something in his ear.
7th Moon, 63 AC
Square of the Village of Derlyn, Dragonstone
The Prince of Dragonstone sat on the small raised pavilion overlooking the muddy town square Derlyn and the hundreds of smallfolk gathered in the square, the salty smell of the sea heavy on the air as the black and red Targaryen banners fluttered in the wind beside the pavilion.
It was the annual Feast Day of the Father Above, a day which Septons claimed was the best day to make judgements and rulings, which would surely be guided by the wisdom of the father above, a sentiment shared by a man as zealous as Vaekar Targaryen, who publicly dispensed justice to the smallfolk of the small fishing village under the walls of Dragonstone every year.
The day's proceedings were almost done, Dragonstone was not an especially populous island and there were relatively few judgements to pass down.
A man who had been accused of stealing a bag of silver from his neighbor was spared the noose following a confession and given the choice between the loss of a hand or joining the Night's Watch, and the black brothers ranks rose by one. The father could be merciful.
Another man accused of beating his wife was also punished with Vaekar determining the man's drunken assault had gone beyond reasonable chastisement and he was whipped seven times for each of the gods he had sworn his vows to love his wife too, with a warning that should the behavior continue he would taste the hangman's rope.
The day's most eventful sentence had come when a man had accused a neighbor in the sight of gods and men of stealing a fishing boat which the neighbor had vehemently denied. A short trial had shown the truth of the matter when a neighbor testified they had seen the accuser hiding his boat on the accused's property, following this Prince Vaekar had sent the man, kicking and begging to the gallows.
Vaekar seldom hung men, the Father, while just could also be merciful, and Vaekar as a general rule extended this mercy to thieves and other criminals, but to perjure oneself in the sight of gods and men on the Fathers own feast day was an offense which could only be met with the rope.
Not all the judgements involved criminals and sin however, the Prince had also confirmed the adoption of an orphan whose parents had drowned at sea whilst fishing into a local family while he had also personally confirmed a new captain of the small village watch.
The last judgment of the day fell on a young woman who had been caught selling her flesh to several fishermen in exchange for coin, a clear violation of the Prince's complete prohibition on prostitution and flesh peddling he had enacted immediately upon becoming the Lord of Dragonstone.
Vaekar dealt with the situation the same way he always did when such sin was brought to his attention. The unfortunate woman was whipped naked through the streets while an enthusiastic crowd pelted her with rotten vegetables, following which she was banished from the island. Her patrons that had been discovered and spotted in her company were also whipped seven times, one for each of the gods, though as many of them were productive fisherman and farmers, they were not banished and the sentence was carried out in the privacy of the sept by the Septon.
The warm day was beginning to fade at the ending of the proceedings, with a cold thin mist rolling in from the sea. It was time to return to the castle to feast and give thanks to the fathers wisdom. The smallfolk as well would feast along the beach as the Prince would provide them with a humble fare of hearty soup and bread so that they may partake in the fathers graciousness. In light of the day's festivities, Vaekar would permit the taverns to remain open for one more hour than the curfew he had imposed, though drunkenness would still be punished with the lash. The sept as well would remain open past nightfall and many of the smallfolk would gather for a midnight service to give thanks.
Vaekar breathed in the cold salty air as he and his small escort of two men at arms walked through the thin mist towards the castle. The fog brought the memory of his adventures in Mantarys across the narrow sea to the east.
A godless city The Prince reminded himself, but some part of him missed his wanderings, even with the bitter memory that it had all been for naught. Dragonstone was small and predictable and ever since being stripped of the title of Master of Ships he found little chance to take to the seas. His world had been reduced to a single island, and he could scarce count on the hospitality of any lords on the Mainland except his friend, the elderly Lord Massey, and Prince Vaekar had since hawked and hunted near every mile of the lands surrounding Stonedance on Massey's Hook.
His sister seemed to have seen through his trap and would not take the bait. He knew she was aware of his comments, he had seen her bard informant scuttling off, but so far she had taken no action. That short time following his proclamation of his wife as the future and rightful Queen had brought some excitement at the very least. He had ordered the crews to man discreetly man and ready his fleet, all 66 ships were ready and waiting for any appearance of the royal fleet which he hoped his sister would send to take him into custody.
The Prince had no doubts about his ability to beat his sister's self styled ''royal fleet''. Laena had made some efforts to combat Dragonstones supremacy in the Narrow Sea he knew, and immediately following her coronation she had ordered the construction of war galleys of her own in Kings Landing and could currently put 25 well made galleys to sea..
Jorys Vunatis, Lord of Bloodstone and his sister's Master of Ships would likely bring a further dozen from the Stepstones if called to lead the royal fleet.
That old Lyseni knew his way around a galley Vaekar had to admit begrudgingly, but even with that it would not be enough. Vaekar could outflout his sisters royal fleet nearly two to one, many of his crews were battle tested in the Stepstones, and Vaekar knew the narrow sea outside of Dragonstone like the back of his hand….if his sister sent her ships to Dragonstone he would send them to the bottom of the Narrow Sea and win a victory such as the realm had never seen and hopefully bring the great lords to his banner and cause.
He had also had to consider the possibility of his sister sending his niece Vaella and the dragon Narrah, or even accompanying the ships personally with Vhagar, but Vaekar thought it unlikely, his sister was no longer as bold as she had been in her youth, and with his twin sister Cymella not in the capitol, his sister would likely want to keep her favorite daughter close. The possibility still existed of course but the Prince would take that risk.
Eventually he had to admit the plan had not worked; however, he could not maintain his crews upkeep forever, and it was clear his sister had seen through his trap and he was forced to stand them down.
He expelled the thoughts from his mind, breathing in the cold foggy air, the Father would show him the way, and he would not allow doubts to seep into his mind on the Fathers very own feast day.
He and his small escort of two men made their way along the beach, the village of Derlyn slowly fading behind them. He wanted a quick walk before he returned to his keep for the feast, where hours of feasting in a stuffy, dark and damp hall awaited him, he needed a little fresh air to face that.
He sensed them right as one of his men-at-arms shouted a cry of alarm as they passed by a small dune along the beach, six dark figures armed to the teeth emerging from behind it.
''You'll be coming with us Prince.'' One of them snarled in a tone that brooked no argument.
Vaekar said nothing at that, drawing Blackfyre from his sheath in a well practiced motion and the melee began.
They set upon his man-at-arms Vayon first, driving him away from his Prince and companion with a flurry of blows, downing him with a spear to the leg before putting a dagger through his eyes.
He and Nestar, his last surviving man, stood back to back and faced the onslaught. Nestar managed to down one attacker, an axemen with a thrust to the stomach but before he could withdraw his blade a sword stroke took him in the neck, showering the Prince with his blood as he fell to the ground.
The Prince slowly circled around on his haunches, like a cat ready to strike as the five attackers closed a circle around him, weapons drawn.
''Its over….lay down your sword.'' The man that had put the dagger in Vayons eye shouted.
Vaekar had sensed their hesitation even before this, and the man's statement had confirmed his suspicions.
They were not sent to kill me Vaekar thought quickly.
He had no such reservations.
With a shout he lunged forward directly at those in front of him, surprising them who were not expecting one man to attack five. Shooting out an elbow he took the leader in the nose with a loud crack, sending him stumbling backwards with a curse.
Sensing movement behind him the Prince swiftly pivoted with a half turn, his sword tensed and at his side, he did not even have to swing as the sudden turn and motion of his body brought Blackfyre straight across the man's neck, who collapsed with a terrible gurgling noise.
A spearman thrust forward at Vaekars unprotected leg, but the Prince brought Blackfyre down, knocking the spearpoint to the ground. With a single motion he shot out a boot on the wooden shaft, pinning it to the ground before thrusting Blackfyre forward with a two handed jab, impaling the man through the heart all the way through the back..
Once again he sensed movement from behind him as one of the would be kidnappers advanced on him from behind, bringing the butt of his ax downwards towards the Prince's head.
Vaekar fell to the side, using the momentum of the fall to wrench Blackfyre through the dead man's chest, cutting through sinew and muscle as the ax butt flashed just inches from his head.
Before he could get too his feet and deal with the axeman another attacker with a spear charged from behind, Vaekar, still on his knees lashed forward like a serpent, grabbing the mans spear below the spear point and yanking it forward, sending the man stumbling through the sand right into the ax blow of his comrade, who caught him between the eyes with a meaty thunk.
Vaekar got to his feet. Where just moments before there had been six attackers, now there were but two, the axeman and what appeared to be the leader with a sword and a dagger. He could sense the fear in their eyes as the two men slowly circled him, one in front and one in the back.
The axeman brought his ax down in a butcher's cut, his apparent instructions to take the Prince alive forgotten in his fear and desperation, Vaekar darted to the side, but not quick enough to completely avoid the strike which lightly grazed his cheek.
The axeman launched another attack but Vaekar fared better this time, catching the axehead on Blackfyre with a ring of steel before swiftly punching out a hand, pushing him back, stumbling.
Vaekar raised Blackfyre high in the air and took a half step forward, but instead of pressing his advantage against the off balance man he swiftly turned behind him where the leader was creeping up behind him, hacking Blackfyre down in a vicious strike, taking the man's arm nearly completely off at the shoulder and continuing into the side of his ribs, the man clambered to the ground with a sudden jerk.
The axeman, who had regained his footing lost whatever courage he had possessed and scrambled away, leaving the bodies of the other five would be kidnappers in the sand.
The leader who had nearly lost his arm was still alive, holding a hand to the ruin of his shoulder trying in vain to staunch the flow of his life's blood, groaning and writhing in the sand.
Another man might have asked the dying man who sent them, or inquired as to the reason, but Vaekar needed no explanation, he knew who was behind this attempted kidnapping.
He walked over to the dying man and wordlessly thrust Blackfyre into the man's neck, ending his agony as well as his life.
A new plan is needed The Prince thought tiredly as he walked into the night towards the safety of Dragonstone.