Night of 20th of the 5th Moon, 99 AC
Levy Camp outside of Stonedance
Arstan watched in silence, fiddling with the wooden necklace to the Father as he watched the woman dress herself, pulling on her septa's robe, and tidying her hair.
Father forgive me The septon, a rather common looking man of thirty three thought to himself, forcing himself to avert his gaze from the half naked septa.
It was a sin he knew, but there was nothing like a woman to strengthen one's resolve before a fight, and a fight was coming, for tonight was the night.
I shall cleanse myself and atone through action….forgive this humble sinner and show your favor upon this righteous cause if it is your will Arstan thought to himself, beginning to dress himself in his plain and dusty robes.
The septa, a woman who had joined his cause quite early on, pulled on her septa's headdress, pulling it tight before facing him.
''I shall tell them you are ready to speak…Father be with us.'' The woman said, and Arstan nodded, dismissing her.
He fastened his sword and sheath to his belt, a rather poor and paltry weapon, rusted and brittle, but it was a weapon to match the man he thought, only when he had fulfilled the Fathers work would he allow himself to take a new fine sword from the spoils that awaited them.
When he had prepared himself, he stepped out of his tent into the cool night air, a gentle breeze coming from the Blackwater Bay.
The calm before the Warriors storm The septon thought to himself, making his way from his tent where his personal guard fell in behind him, wielding cudgels, axes, spears and the occasional sword, most of them were common men, levies from Stonedance and the surrounding areas, but there were a few knights among his most loyal followers, men who had managed to find the fathers light through the foggy snare of noble and rich living.
They walked in silence a good distance away from the camp, following a faint light in the distance, a thin trail of smoke climbing from the nearby forest into the night sky. It had been duly named as the Fathers Light…with his recruiters and acolytes preaching to all they thought likely to join to ''find the fathers light''.
He had no idea how many awaited him at the bonfire, though his acolytes, who had been preaching seemed confident they would have enough for the task that awaited him. His acolytes had been preaching in the levy camp outside of Stonedance castle, as well as the villages of Luna, Woodmere, and the hamlets outside of Glasswater Hall, some had gone even further, west to the outskirts of the Kingswood, or south to the Stormlands, following the Wendwater.
He and his men walked in silence for what seemed to be an hour, through the dark trees, with only the faint smoke to light their way, the only noise the creatures of the night, but Arstan was not afraid of the darkness, not when the fathers light shone brightly.
Eventually the coastal forest opened up into a large clearing where his army awaited him. His acolytes had not lied, there were at least fifteen hundred there, perhaps as many as two thousand, most of them seemed to be common men from the surrounding villages armed with shovels, pitchforks and cudgels, but there were several hundred that seemed to be levies from the camp at Stonedance, armed with spear and shield and in leather brigandines and jerkins.
Arstan gave silent thanks to the Father that so many had answered his call, and made his way to the massive burning bonfire in the center of the clearing, the crowd parting for him to pass, his guards close behind him.
He took in the sight for a moment, the crowds murmuring gradually growing silent.
''I won't tell you my name…for it is not important….all that you must know about me is that I am a humble man…..a sinner, just like all gathered here today….I am not here to be your King, or your ruler, only to point out the evils that this humble man has witnessed, I am here to tell you the truth of the path of darkness we have been led to, and what steps we must take to return to the Fathers road of righteousness.'' Arstan began, speaking loudly.
''We stand here as men from different backgrounds, farmers, shoemakers, blacksmiths and soldiers, yet we are all united by one thing…all of us have been conscripted by the Targaryens….the rabid spawn of incestous and unnatural relations…foreigners from across the narrow sea…into a war. We have been conscripted to fight with slavers, evil men who think it right and moral to OWN another man. Whether by smithing for Masseys soldiers, crafting their boots, their horseshoes, or yes…by even being sent across the sea to kill other poor men….the poor wretches of Tyrosh and Myr…we have all been made complicit in this crime….made to stand against the poor of this world.'' Arstan continued.
''I am here to tell you brothers that we…are similarly shackled, just as much as the former slaves of Tyrosh and Myr…..tied to an anchor of depravity the sister fucking kings of silver hair afflict upon us, forced to lend our goods, our labor…and your very soul to advancing their dark ambitions and rule….DO YOU FEEL THE CHAINS BROTHERS….FEEL THE IRON UPON YOUR WRIST…THE SHACKLES UPON YOUR ANKLES.'' The septon continued, his voice growing in intensity, a loud murmur growing in the crowd.
''Such is the fate of all the poor and common folk in this world….but it is not the warriors will that the downtrodden of the earth kneel and feel the sting of the lash obediently….it is his will that we FIGHT and end our oppression by the evil forces which kneel upon our neck…look across the narrow sea, the men of Tyrosh and Myr have thrown off their chains, slain their cruel masters, despoiled the women who bedeck themselves in jewels and silks, the fruits of their labor, and put their spawn to the sword…and yet we are being sent to kill these brave men…no…no, heathens they may be, but the father granted them strength in their uprising to show us his light…his example…AND HIS WILL.''
''I know the question on the tips of your tongues…the doubt in your heart…WHAT OF THE DRAGONS…what of the demonic creatures of the east, the dark servants of the silver haired tyrants you ask….but the Father has shown me the way forward brothers…the path to victory. Just as the Targaryens have held our very souls captive and hostage to their dark desires, so too must we have our own hostage….and we need to look no further than the castle of our Lord Massey….there we will find a young prince he is harboring, silver haired…the spawn of generations of unnatural relations….a demon named Valerion…so named after his heathonous forebearers…we shall seize this prince, a child born to luxury and privilege….the Targaryens shall never march against us when we hold their own kin….with this ransom brothers we shall liberate not only Stonedance but the whole of Masseys Hook, and we shall only release the boy following a peace negotiation overseen by the High Septon of Oldtown himself….in which the evil usurper Jaerion must recognize the independence of our lands and the rulership of a theocracy of seven septons….he shall not dare break the agreement for the whole of the realm shall rise up if he breaks an oath made before his the High Septon himself….we shall build a good and devout land…where all believers may live in peace.'' Arstan finished, catching his breath.
''But before we can create this paradise brothers we must fight…..not all in the camp outside of Stonedance are evil men, I have left some dozens there myself to aid us when we march from the front, but there are others, rich knights and nobles who like a dog licking his master's boot are content to follow their dark overlords….we must attack this camp brothers, the good and righteous shall have to choose quickly on whos side they stand on…READY YOUR WEAPONS MEN, we shall storm this camp and kill the impure among them and then we shall storm the very walls of Stonedance and take the prince….SPARE THEM NOT THE SWORD.'' The septon finished, and a great roar rose up from the crowd, who waved their weapons in the air and shouted death upon the Targaryens and their servants.
Two hours later, this large force would strike the siege camp outside of Stonedance, and a chaotic melee would ensue as Arstans men rushed into the camp, joined by his men hidden within. Knights were targeted, as most were assumed to be unyielding in their loyalty to the crown. Few records of this fight exist, but what is clear is that by the end of it, nearly six hundred were dead or heavily wounded, though it is hard to say how many were loyalists and how many were Arstans men. The levies of Lord Massey would then disperse, either fleeing back to their homes or in the case of many, joining Arstans cause. Among the dead was Ser Tanton Bulwer, a talented young cavalry commander who had been one of the companions of King Jaerion, serving as master of horse at the Red Keep and one of his chosen commanders for the campaign.
The rebels then prepared to storm the walls of Stonedance, until just before the order was given, Septon Arstan received word from his spies within the castle that the Prince Valerion was nowhere to be found and not within the castle.
Despite the weakened and small garrison of the castle, the rather formidable walls of Stonedance were deemed too much of an obstacle now that the primary objective of taking the castle was impossible and the rebels moved on to easier spoils.
Using fishing ships from the village of Luna, Arstan sent several hundred of his men to sail across the gullet under the cover of darkness towards the nearby island of Sweetport Sound, seat of House Sunglass.
In the morning, Arstans forces scaled the walls of the small castle where a melee ensued leaving around 200 total dead and wounded, but due to the element of surprise the small castle was eventually subdued and Arstans banner, a crystal hammer was raised over the castle, meant to signify the new realm he meant to be forged.
Another island castle, Rambton had more time to prepare, but Arstans men, well armed and armored with the spoils from the camp and castle stormed the castle, though at the cost of several hundred dead and wounded. Arstan would then proclaim these conquests as the beginning of his new realm, calling all devout followers to flock to his banner, and soon his forces would swell to nearly six thousand men.
When news of this uprising reached the capitol, the King at once ordered his brother Aemorys to postpone the expedition to Essos and instead deal with the threat much closer to home, with the levy of Dragonstone and the Kingswood being raised to aid in defeating the wicked septon.
2nd of 7th Moon, 99 AC
Outskirts of Stonedance, Lord Commander Aemorys's Tent
Aurion, satisfied that the helmet was polished enough, held it out in front of him, the white plate of the Kingsguard helmet being so clear he could almost see his reflection in it. Satisfied, he placed the helmet down on the table next to his uncle's recently sharpened longsword, cloak and recently polished plate armor.
He then went to the chest at the corner of the tent by his cot, and took out the equipment his father had commissioned for him, strapping on the fine black plate armor and gorget, as well as strapping a sword onto his side, despite the prince only being 12 years old, the equipment could pass for belonging to a boy several years older as Aurion was tall for his age.
Warm rays of light shone through the white cloth of the tent, and Aurion sat down, his fingers drumming the table, nervous excitement coursing through his body. Outside he could hear the clamoring of soldiers, and the neighing of horses.
Shortly after, the tent flap opened and his uncle, dressed in a plain white tunic, walked in.
He stopped when he saw his nephew sitting down, fully armored and ready to go.
''You certainly look the part.'' The Lord Commander said with a tight smile.
''Is it time?'' Aurion asked, standing.
''Yes….we march within the hour.'' His uncle said, making his way towards his armor on the table, and grabbing the white plate breastplate.
Aurion quickly walked towards his uncle, standing behind him and helping him with the straps and fastenings.
''I can see to my own armor Aurion.'' The Lord Commander said, but nevertheless he allowed his nephew and squire to help him ready for battle.
When he was ready, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard looked truly magnificent, armored in white plate and a snowy white cloak, sword buckled at his side.
''This is it.'' Aemorys said finally, breaking the silence, looking at his nephew, studying his face.
Aurion, sensing something was expected of him spoke ''Im not…Im not afraid, i'm ready Uncle it's just….I don't know what to expect.''
His Uncle nodded ''I've been where you are standing….though I was a few years older than you…there's nothing I can truly say to prepare you for it…..you won't be fighting my Prince, hold the banner and stay close to me and Ser Utherydes…I don't expect the fighting to last long…..they won't withstand Narrah and our calvary for long.''
Aurion nodded, but his uncle kept looking at him, as if he sensed there was something else bothering his nephew.
''I'm worried about my father….I have been for a while'' Aurion admitted simply, looking his uncle in the eyes, and for a moment he saw a flash of something pass through his uncle's purple eyes.
He's worried about the same thing Aurion realized.
''Best not to go into battle with any distractions…..clear your mind my Prince'' His uncle said curtly after a moment's silence, putting a hand on Aurions shoulder before walking out of the tent, Aurion close behind him.
They mounted up as the army of over six thousand broke camp, it would not be a long march, the rebel army was encamped a few miles outside of the castle of Stonedance a little over an hour's ride away. Aurion, who had already seen and readied his uncle's horse early that morning, mounted his own and joined the collum marching to battle.
Sensing a shift in the air, he turned and looked overheard, seeing a large red dragon with horns white as bone flying through the air over the column, over 50 feet long, mounted by an older woman with shining silver hair.
It was his great Aunt Vaella and her dragon Narrah, a battle hardened dragon as evidenced by the still visible slight tatters in its left wing, a wound it had sustained from a scorpion in Pentos, despite this the beast still cut through the air powerfully. It was to be the only dragon present at the coming battle as Aemorys's dragon Tridax was still too small to fly.
The troops let out a cheer at the sight, emboldened and confident, assured of their victory….the rabble knew they would be facing a dragon as Vaella had flown several scouting missions in an attempt to perhaps scare them off, but few of the fanatic rebels had fled, determined to make their stand, and Aurion had overheard his aunt say that her spies reported their only defense against the dragon seemed to be a line of archers and a ragged band of septons who wished to ''strike my dragon from the skies with prayer.''
Aurion turned to his uncle who was riding beside him ''It is a good thing my brother slipped out of Stonedance, if they had captured him…..''
His uncle grunted acknowledgement, and Aurion pushed the thought from his mind, it was unpleasant to think that they might have had to march against the enemy whilst they held his little brother Valerion, luckily enough his brother was safe and back in King's Landing, where Massey had sent him following the news from Stonedance and the postponement of the Tyroshi campaign.
It did not take the army long to reach the outskirts of the rebel camps, their troops were emboldened and in fine spirits due to the presence of ''their'' dragon, singing marching songs for the duration of their journey.
The fanatics were arranged in a long line on the expanse of a small hill before them, standing behind sharpened wooden stakes. There seemed to be few knights or heavily armored troops in general, though there were thousands of them, a sea of peasants, dressed in cloth tunics and leather brigandines with the occasional man in chainmail, there were more horseman than Aurion would have thought, likely due to the fact that the rebels had taken two castles and their stables, as well as plundered several small settlements that opposed them.
His uncle's plan was simple, they would try to end the fighting as quickly as possible with a brute charge of calvary, with Vaella supporting with Narrah from above, the peasants, fanatics or no could not hope to stand against castle forged steel and dragonfire. Lord Massey would also follow with heavy infantry and attack the wooden palisades from the sides.
Aurion gripped the banner in his hand tightly, a large white pendant denoting the Kingsguard whipping in the air, with a smaller one with the dragon sigil of his house below it.
His uncle turned to him ''You stay close to me and Cressey my Prince…we shall be at your side, don't draw your sword unless it is absolutely necessary and allow us to do our duty…your father instructed me he wants you to accompany us on the field….do not make me regret obeying that command Aurion.''
Cressey, a young blonde Kingsguard knight who was just seven years older than the prince, flashed him a reassuring smile before putting his helm and drawing closer to the Princes side.
''CALVARY….PREPARE TO CHARGE.'' The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard shouted, and around one hundred heavy knights assembled around him, most in plate armor with horses bound in colorful caprisons, they would form the ''fist'' of the attack while the more lightly armored cavalry and hedge knights would follow behind.
''ATTACK….FOR THE KING…FOR THE CROWN.'' Aemorys yelled, drawing his sword and thundering forward, inciting a roar from the knights, Aurion raised the standard in the air as high as he could with one hand while guiding his horse with another.
For just a moment the Prince found himself at the very forefront of the charge, standard raised high as he led the charge of heavy calvary, the trumpets blaring almost as loud as his beating heart, it was one of the best moments of his life.
Quickly however, the more experienced horseman thundered past him, and his two Kingsguard rode in front of him. Aurion saw the rebels prepare their own counter charge of calvary, several hundred forming up and riding at the royal forces. Luckily they faced little fire from archers, as almost all the rebel archers were on the left flank watching Vaella and Narrah in the skies, circling behind as her men charged below.
They came together in a clash of steel,sounds of horses shrieking with pain and grunts as men fell to the ground heavy in the air, even from his position in the middle, Aurion felt the collision, and also felt they were having the better push as the heavily armored knights drove their lances into the rebels.
The prince and his escort reached the front in seconds as the armored first drove deep into the enemy light cavalry, he watched his uncle slash a mounted horseman shoulder to groin with a powerful strike, knocking him from the saddle, while Cressey exchanged blows with another before his blade took the man in the neck, causing him to wordlessly slump to the ground, a smile of red on his face.
''Shield Aurion!'' He barely made out his uncle's shout as they drove deeper into the wedge, and Aurion obliged, strapping a shield to his free forearm while holding the banner high.
To the right he heard the sounds of a fresh collision, and turning he saw Masseys infantry were clambering over the wooden palisades and spikes, engaging in a fierce melee with the desperate fanatics.
Deeper and deeper they rode into the enemy, and Aurion at one point was almost knocked from the saddle as the man in front of him, wearing a surcoat depicting the gray helmet of House Pyle fell backwards off of his horse after being pierced from chest to back by a dismounted rebel pikeman on the ground, the man's fall nearly took Aurion down with him but the Prince managed to steady himself.
After a few more moments, the ragged calvary of the enemy began to withdraw, no match for the heavy knights and light cavalry of the nobility.
Having a moment to collect himself, Aurion turned to the left where the shouting seemed loudest. What he saw chilled him to the very bone.
He saw his great aunt Vaella atop Narrah indiscriminately strafing the lines on the left, the large red dragon flying through the sky as desperate lines of archers filled the sky with arrows which harmlessly bounced off the beast unlike the fire which consumed the archers.
He saw a Targaryen banner in the middle of the melee, burning with dragonfire.
She's burning our own men Aurion thought in shock.
His great aunts strategy may have been callous and arbitrary, however it was very effective as the indiscriminate unleashing of dragonfire caused panic on the rebel right and within moments the large line there began to retreat and run for the hills, similarly on the right, Masseys men had gained the palisades after a bloody melee and the right flank began to buckle.
That left just the enemy center to contend with, their cavalry charge had eliminated most of the rebel horsemen, but there was still a large force of rebel infantry behind a palisade. Aemorys began to shout for his men to dismount and await their infantry to prepare a direct charge on the palisade but it was unneeded, Arstans fanatics in the center realized quickly where things were headed with a force of infantry to their right and a fifty foot dragon on their left and abandoned the palisades, fleeing into the countryside.
It seemed the battle was over, and a raucous cheer emerged from the royal troops, though it was somewhat quieter on the left, who were still startled from being subjected to dragonfire.
Aurion began to relax, and started to take off his helm when he saw something in the corner of his vision, a horseman with a lowered spear riding at them, right at his uncle who was similarly beginning to relax.
Aurion, thinking quickly, rode at the riders side, raising his shield in the air and colliding with the rider, ending his desperate charge and sending the man flying from his horse with an audible thump.
Aemorys, overcoming his surprise, dismounted, drawing his longsword and walking towards the rider, a grim look on his face.
''Uncle.'' Aurion called out, also dismounting and holding up a hand to halt the Lord Commander.
Aurion drew his own sword and slowly approached the dismounted rider, his Uncle, seeing this nodded and motioned for Cressey to step aside, though they both stayed close.
The Prince approached the groaning rider, his hand gripping his sword tightly, slick with sweat while his heart beat swiftly.
He approached, raising his sword slightly, and despite his best efforts he allowed himself a quick glance at the man he was going to kill.
It was a boy, not much older than him and clearly no older than fifteen or sixteen, the faintest hints of facial hair upon his face, a fearful look in his eyes.
Aurion placed his sword on the boy's neck, willing himself to bring it down, but he could not do it….the fight was over and enough had died.
He removed the cold steel from the peasant boy's neck.
''Go in peace.'' Aurion said and the boy scampered off, turning, he looked to his uncle who was staring at him with a look that was hard to discern, though Aurion did not sense disapproval.
The battle of Stonedance would be a bloody affair, and by its end nearly 1400 men would be dead, wounded or heavily burned. It was not as one sided as one might imagine as the royal army suffered nearly 550 casualties, many of them as a result on the brutal melee on the right or as a result of being burned by Varellas indiscriminate fire strafing of the left, yet despite the costs, the Targaryens had victory and the uprising would be put down.
As for the figure known as Septon Arstan, the man would escape the battle at Stonedance, disappearing from the area never to be seen again. Some sources claim he went to the Riverlands and led a small group of fanatics who were little more than bandits, though this cannot be proven and all that is known is that the wicked septons place in the histories ended the day his dreams for an independent state were crushed.
Aurion and his two Kingsguard rode back towards the camp, the young prince's heart still beating fast as the adrenaline slowly wore off.
''You did well, Aurion.'' His uncle said, and he looked as if he were about to say something else when a rider from the outskirts of the battle approached them, greeting the Lord Commander.
Aurion left the two to their business, taking his uncle's horse, watering it and brushing the tangles from the tired beast, turning back to see the messenger and his uncle still talking, before the messenger nodded, mounted his horse, and rode away.
He sensed something strange in his uncle's reaction, the way he was looking at him, so Aurion quickly finished seeing to his uncle's horse and returned to the Lord Commander, who had not moved from his spot, still holding a scroll, a strange look in his eyes.
''What is it?'' Aurion questioned.
The Lord Commander was silent for a moment, looking off at the battlefield, before gently taking his nephew by the shoulder.
''Aurion.'' His uncle began, his face full of grief.
The Prince froze, a small buzzing in his ears, his blood running cold.
''Aurion…..I am sorry….your father is dead.'' His uncle said, a great sadness in his voice.
And so it was that on the seventh moon of 99 AC, King Jaerion, henceforth known to the histories as Jaerion the Brief, succumbed to his infected wound at the age of 31, ruling for just one year and 10 months.
While in a separate chamber his wife Belle Tully lay facing the birthing bed, King Jaerion lay dying in another. Hours later, his wife would give birth to another son, their sixth, a prince whom would be named Balaeron, when servants went to the King's chambers to deliver the summer days good news they found him dead in his bed, his golden hand holding up the covers as a fire roared in the hearth.
Thus began the rule of Aurion Targaryen, First of his Name.