Hello, everyone! Long time no see. First chapter of 2023! Sorry it took so long. Anyway, without further ado, here's the new chapter! :)
Rhaenyra could not really remember the rest of the day after her younger half-sister was executed. It was all a blur. She could not recollect being assisted down from the Iron Throne, having her hands bandaged up by Grand Maester Thaleus, and spending the rest of the day in her bedchamber. What Rhaenyra did remember clearly of the twelfth day of the eleventh moon was Helaena's execution from the time when she entered the throne room, said her speech, revealed her green gown, and met her death. Rhaenyra had looked away just as the Queen's Justice's sword reached Helaena's neck, cutting her hands on the Iron Throne in the process, and then laughing madly over all the blood that had been spilled for the very seat she was sitting on, after which a thick fog descended on Rhaenyra's mind and did not dissipate until after her half-sister's body was burned early the following day.
Princess Helaena Targaryen was cremated early on the morning of the thirteenth day of the eleventh moon in the Red Keep's courtyard; her pyre was built on the same spot where her grandson had been cremated little over a fortnight ago. Beheaded as a traitor of the crown, Helaena was still a princess, and she was entitled to a funeral befitting her royal status. The cremation was a small private service. In attendance at the cremation were Queen Rhaenyra, her two youngest children and their families, Baelor, Alysanne, Aemon, Elaena, Aeric, and Daemion, small councilmen, and former members of Helaena's household. Even King Daemon was in attendance with Mysaria to pay his last respects to his youngest niece. The rest of the royal family and court remained inside the Red Keep paying their respects to Lord Bartimos and Lady Thea Celtigar, who were lying in state before the Iron Throne.
Rhaenyra and her retinue would pay their respects to Bartimos and Thea after her half-sister was cremated. Helaena was still dressed in her scandalous green dress, which was mostly covered up by her light gray riding cloak, the sides of the cloak's hood were pulled up to conceal the sutures made by the silent sister who sewed Helaena's head back on to her neck. Her bun had been undone, and Helaena's silver-gold hair was tucked into her hood, which shimmered in the light of the morning sun. The princess's hands were folded over her stomach, and her expression was one of peace. Prince Baelor Targaryen was the one who lit his half-grandaunt's pyre.
Rhaenyra felt nothing as she watched the fire consume her half-sister's body. She felt numb. It didn't feel real. Nothing seemed to make any sense as Helaena burned away before Rhaenyra's very eyes. She still felt nothing even after Helaena and her pyre had been reduced to a smoking pile of ash.
Prince Aegon the Younger was feeling a similar numbness. As his treacherous half-aunt burned outside, Aegon was inside the Red Keep's throne room mourning over the bodies of his late father-in-law and wife, the latter in particular. Mourning alongside him were his children, Nell, and his late wife's relatives: Adela Bolling, Thea's mother and Bartimos's widow, the twice bereaved Dowager Lady of Claw Isle; Thea's older half-brother, Clement Celtigar and his wife, Floris Baratheon, the new Lord and Lady of Claw Isle; and both of Thea's cousins, Sers Arthor and Dorian Celtigar (Arthor's wife, Lady Alyssa Royce, remained home at Claw Isle with her in-laws to look after the children). Everyone but Dorian wore black, though the Queensguard knight did sport a black ribbon on his left bicep to show that he was grieving. Morning hours for funeral services are traditionally reserved for highborn mourners, and Aegon and his children and in-laws were the first to pay their respects to Bartimos and Thea.
Adela had planted herself between the two biers that held her late husband and daughter shortly after arriving in the throne room. She alternated between each bier to weep, pray, and speak to the dead as Clement, Floris, and Arthor looked on sympathetically from behind the biers. Aegon was standing beside Thea's bier with their children, Nell, and Ser Dorian. The prince just stood there staring at his dead wife while Nell held Little Rhaenyra up so that she could see her mother. Nell's free hand rested gently on Oswyn's back as he stood on her left.
Lady Beesbury had been the children's guardian ever since the night of Thea's murder, and she had been making regular reports to her mother-in-law about how Little Rhaenyra had been having nightmares that made her toss and turn and cry in her sleep. The poor girl's nightmare, according to what she told Nell, always involved seeing her mother fall and a hooded man standing over her and looking straight at Little Rhaenyra. The poor child feared that the scary hooded man was going to come after her next, and no number of reassurances that the man was dead and gone did little assuage the princess's fears. If Oswyn suffered from a similar nightmare, he never confided in Nell about it. Nightmares aside, Oswyn and Little Rhaenyra had become quiet, withdrawn, and morose children following their mother's murder.
Aegon was stuck in the same sorrowful quagmire that his children were in, though he was stuck far more deeply than Oswyn and Little Rhaenyra were. Aegon's presence in the Great Hall was an improvement from how he had been acting ever since the death of his beloved Thea. The grieving widower had sequestered himself in his chambers for eleven days straight following Thea's murder, and his presence in the throne room yesterday morning to witness the execution of his half-aunt was the first time Aegon had left his bedchamber. Aegon's hermitage was not entirely devoid of human contact during the time between Thea's death and Helaena's execution thanks to occasional visits from his family members: mainly his mother, younger brother and his family, their half-niece Alysanne, and servants of course, but Aegon the Younger paid them all little heed. These visits were mostly silent, the few words that were spoken were about how Oswyn and Little Rhaenyra were doing and trying to encourage Aegon to eat and drink a little more or to bathe.
Aegon would nourish himself, albeit sparingly, but his body didn't touch water until early on the morning of Helaena's execution date, and he finally changed out of the nightclothes that he was dressed in by Alysanne and Visenya on the night of his wife's death. The executions of those responsible for killing Thea seemed to be the spark that finally brought Aegon (slowly) back to life, though he was still trapped in a melancholy state. Rhaenyra saw the darkness in her fourth born son's eyes when she came to pay her respects to the Celitgar's. Aegon's purple eyes were nearly as black as plums, but they always lit up when he smiled or laughed, or when Thea and the children were with him. Queen Rhaenyra noticed sadly how that light was no longer present in Aegon's eyes when they saw each other.
The prince nodded slightly to his mother in greeting before turning his gaze back downward at Thea. Rhaenyra, her lips quirked in a sad smile for a millisecond, turned her gaze down at Thea as well. The late Lady Celtigar and her father were laid out in the same fashion as Helaena was with their hands folded over their stomachs, the only difference being that the Celtigar's were wearing their finest garments instead of the clothes they wore at the time of their deaths. The embalming process had made both Bartimos and Thea look as if they had been sculpted out of marble with their bloodless white skin and still features. It was hard to reconcile the memory of those two when they were alive with their present forms, those two images just could not coexist, and it felt so unnerving and unreal to the queen and her family.
Everything seemed so unreal right now, and the Stranger's presence felt omnipresent. As much as she adored Thea and respected Bartimos, Rhaenyra could not bear to stay in the throne room for a minute longer; it suddenly felt suffocating to be around so much loss in one morning. She said her good-byes to her family, offered condolences to the Celtigar's, and headed for the small council chamber with Baelor and Sers Blackwood and Tarbeck. Clement followed the queen with Arthor in tow, leaving his wife in charge of looking after Adela, whose mourning pattern remained unchanged. The small councilmen who were paying their respects quickly tailed after the Dragon Queen like ducklings after their mother duck.
Rhaenyra almost felt guilty for feeling relieved to leave the throne room while her relatives were still in there, but she had other pressing matters to attend to. A steady stream of people flowed into the small council chamber. Rhaenyra and Baelor took their places at each end of the table and watched as everyone made their way to their seats. Clothair, Creighton, and Benedict all sat on Rhaenyra's right, and Thaleus, Mysaria, and Jon all sat on the queen's left. Viserys, Aeric, and Daemion arrived shortly after everyone had sat down, with Viserys taking his place by his mother's side, and Aeric and Daemion each standing on either side of their cousin Baelor, joining the Celtigar's who stood nearby.
Everyone was here. Good. Rhaenyra felt her youngest son's hand on her shoulder. "How are you faring, mother?" Rhaenyra nodded softly and touched Viserys's hand. "I am faring well, Viserys. Thank you for asking. Is everyone still down in the Great Hall?"
Viserys nodded. "Yes, they are all still down there."
"How are Myrine and the children?"
Viserys's expression turned crestfallen. "They are all doing fine, but Myrine is still mournful."
"I see," Rhaenyra said softly. It was obvious to Rhaenyra that Myrine was still upset over her best friend's death, but she also knew that Myrine's emotional state had been exacerbated from being questioned by the Lord Confessor after the Moon of the Stranger. She and Mysaria both were questioned by Ser Fell, and the two women swore up and down that they were ignorant of the traitorous Jaehaera's plotting. The women's genuine reactions quickly ruled them out as being traitors. Helaena and Jaehaera's betrayal had made the Dragon Queen paranoid, and she had every associate of the two princesses, be they companion or servant, interrogated to weed out any potential spies who were lurking in the Red Keep.
Looking back on it, Rhaenyra regretted having Mysaria and Myrine questioned. Mysaria had been a loyal retainer to the Blacks since Rhaenyra's bygone girlhood, and Myrine was a quiet and respectful daughter-in-law who caused no trouble and cared for Viserys and their children. The ripple effect from all that had happened was affecting everyone and it was terrible. Wanting a distraction from all her depressing thoughts, Rhaenyra began the meeting with a question for Mysaria.
"Is Daemon back in his room, Misery?"
The White Worm shook her head. "No, your grace. He wanted to stay downstairs longer with Prince Aegon and his children. Nell and Myrine said that they will look after Daemon and take him back to his room when he's ready."
"Very good." Rhaenyra nodded, but she did not utter this thought out loud. Time to get down to brass tacks. There was a rebellion to quash. She shifted her attention to Grand Maester Thaleus.
"Thaleus, you still have not heard from Marilda of Hull?"
The old Grand Maester's face lit up when he heard the queen's question.
"Actually, your grace, a raven from Sunspear arrived yesterday carrying a letter written by Marilda. She is alive and well."
Excitement jolted the air and everyone took a collective gasp and exchanged glances of surprise. "Do you have the letter with you?" Rhaenyra asked. All eyes were on Thaleus now, and everyone wanted to know about the fate of the Velaryon Fleet. The Grand Maester nodded and pulled the letter out from his left sleeve, unrolled it, and read it aloud to his eager audience.
"To her majesty, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, the First of Her Name,
It is I, Marilda of Hull. The Mouse and I survived the Battle of the Arbor along with one of your son's squires, Ser Isyck Follard, and we have just reached Sunspear after nearly a fortnight of sailing. Thank the Seven Above, we were blessed with clear skies and favorable winds. But I am afraid that this is the end of the good news that I have to share with you, your grace. I am sure that you have heard the news already, but my youngest son Alyn was slain during the battle.
Heartbroken doesn't even begin to describe the pain that I am feeling right now, and it is taking all my strength to not to throw myself into the sea to join my boy in the afterlife. Have you heard any word on how Addam, Aly, Joyce, and my grandchildren are faring in light of Alyn's death? Seeing my family again and getting the Mouse and what's left of the fleet back home is what's keeping me going despite the pain. Six ships are all that is left of the Velaryon Fleet that was brought over to the Reach. The rest were either burnt by your nephew's dragon, or captured by the Greens.
The Battle of the Arbor was ferocious! Fighting took place everywhere: on the Arbor and the sea and even in the air. Your son, Prince Lucerys, fought valiantly against his traitorous cousin. I have now heard that Lucerys's dragon was killed and that he was captured. I have also heard about the other battles and your losses. From one mother and grandmother to another, my heart goes out to you.
Lucerys instructed Isyck and I to escape and inform you of what had happened at the Arbor. The Redwyne's betrayed us at Stone Cask, and their guards killed two of Lucerys's fellow squires, Sers Quince and Waters. House Redwyne needs to answer for their treachery! I will be more than happy to assist in bringing them to justice to avenge my son. But first, give the sailors and I some time to rest and stockpile supplies here in Sunspear before we set sail for home.
I will send word before we embark for the Crownlands.
Seven bless you,
Marilda"
The council's initial excitement had dulled down to somberness as they took in the gravity of what Marilda had written. Rhaenyra balled her hands into fists, but quickly unclenched them when the pain in her bandaged hands flared up. "Did you reply to her letter?" she asked. Thaleus nodded.
"Yes. I told Marilda to do whatever she thinks is best to get what's left of the fleet ready as long as she's quick about it."
Rhaenyra nodded. "Very good," she replied. Her attention then shifted towards her new Master of Ships, Lord Jon Darklyn. The sixty-one year old Jon was recommended by his nephew, Ser Connor Darklyn, to fill Bartimos's vacancy on the small council. Jon was the younger brother of the late Lord Gunthor Darklyn, and it was through Gunthor that he held the title of Chief Harbormaster at Duskendale.
As Chief Harbormaster, Jon maintained law, order, and safety at Duskendale's harbor and docks, enforced the rules and punished the sailors and merchants who broke them, and organized the naval defense of Duskendale should the need arise. Jon also knew how to sail. This occupation gave Jon an encyclopedic knowledge of anything nautical. Rhaenyra was happy to find such a qualified replacement for Bartimos on such short notice. So far, Jon had proven himself to be a good fit during his first thirteen days as Master of Ships.
"Jon," Rhaenyra began, "how many ships can House Darklyn spare from their fleet to supplement the ones the Velaryon's lost?"
The chief naval advisor frowned and shook his head. "I am afraid we cannot spare one of our ships, your grace, even in these trying times. Duskendale has only three galleys at our disposal to fight off pirates."
"Why only three?" The question came from Lord Benedict Stokeworth, the substitute Master of Laws for the imprisoned Prince Joffrey Velaryon. Jon was quick to answer his fellow councilman.
"Driftmark is not far from Duskendale. House Velaryon dominates the patrols on the Narrow Sea. My family's galleys only patrol near Duskendale's harbor, the coastline south of Crackclaw Point, and the Gullet. The Velaryon's deal with most of the piracy while we only have to deal with the odd straggler here and there if they were lucky to avoid a Velaryon galley."
"At least we still have the Royal Fleet," said Viserys. "Luke only took ships from his fleet. Rhaena did write saying that the shipbuilders on Driftmark are working nonstop constructing new vessels. We can always hire sell-sails until the new warships are ready."
"The Thoredando's should be able to help us with that," added Mysaria. "With Princess Megaera finally carrying the family's long awaited heir, her father-in-law should be generous in supplying us with the best sell-sail navy his coin can buy."
"I take it that the princess is too far along to ride the Red Queen, correct?" asked Clothair, whose question was answered with a nod from the queen.
"Yes. Besides, even if Meg had just discovered that she is expecting, I highly doubt that her mother-in-law would be so keen on letting her ride Meleys, let alone ride her into battle. This is Juno's first grandchild after all."
"What about her sisters and brother?" asked Benedict. His question was immediately answered by Baelor.
"No, absolutely not. I will not have my wife fly into battle. Aemon and Elaena need their mother."
"What of Princess Laena and Prince Corlys?" Benedict's question was answered by another headshake.
"Laena is too unwell to fly Silverwing into battle, and Corlys is frail in addition to being my Uncle Luke's only living son. Aunt Rhaena would have my head if I were to request Corlys to fly Vermithor to the Reach."
"But isn't the Bronze Fury a winged colossus?" Benedict was insistent with his questions, and it was annoying the small council and queen. "Surely your cousin will be safe?"
Baelor shook his head again. "Safety is not guaranteed no matter how big a dragon is, Lord Benedict. Queen Visenya still took an arrow to the shoulder when she rode Vhagar in the Field of Fire. Vermithor is half the size of what Vhagar was when she was still alive. All it takes is a good marksman to end the life of a dragonrider."
This answer did not seem to satisfy Lord Stokeworth, and he opened his mouth to speak only to be cut off by an icy reply from Rhaenyra herself. Her reply was pregnant with exasperation.
"Laena and Corlys will not be fighting at all because of their health and to preserve House Velaryon's line of succession, and Baelor does not want Alysanne to fight for the sake of their children. We still have more dragons than the Greens regardless. They may not be as big as Vermithor and Silverwing, but a dragon is a dragon. They fly and they breathe fire. What more do you want, Lord Benedict?"
Benedict, who was frozen in his seat, goggled at the queen fearfully like a boy having been caught doing something wrong. The Master of Laws was about five years younger than Jon Darklyn, and had served for many years as justiciar for the demesne of House Stokeworth under his nephew, the Lord of Stokeworth, when he had been recommended to fill the captive Joffrey's position by his niece, Lord Stokeworth's sister, the also captive Lady Falena Stokeworth. But this appointment was not made out of consideration for Benedict's skill in legal matters. Rhaenyra wanted to doubly ensure the loyalty of House Stokeworth by appointing the uncle of Lord Stokeworth and Falena to fill Joff's vacancy in the small council. This prestigious appointment, which was nothing more than glorified captivity for Benedict, gave the Stokeworth's more reason to stay loyal to the Dragon Queen.
Unfortunately, Rhaenyra found it hard to be patient with, or to even feign tolerance for the man given his blood-ties to the mistress and bastards of Jaehaerys the Pretender. Baelor was more willing to give Benedict the benefit of the doubt, and he stepped in to alleviate the tension between his grandmother and replacement justiciar.
"Lord Benedict, I understand your concern about the dragons, and grandmother, do you not see where Benedict is coming from?"
Rhaenyra fixed her grandson with a steely gaze. She did not at all look interested in understanding Benedict's persistent questions about the dragons. Baelor continued anyway with his explanation.
"We do have many dragons, grandmother, but most of them cannot be ridden into battle just like Vermithor, Silverwing, Meleys, and Galewing. Grandfather is too sick to ride Caraxes, Uncle Aegon is in no state of mind to ride Stormcloud, and Aunt Visenya is too great with child to mount Dyannerys."
Rhaenyra's expression slowly melted as she listened to Baelor. Her grandson was a gifted conciliator like his father and his great-great-great-grandfather many generations before him. It was like Jacaerys had returned to the veil of tears to help his mother and the realm. Jace would have been so proud of his eldest son, but his mother was feeling that pride for him. Pleased to see his grandmother's steeliness lighten, Baelor then turned to Benedict.
"And my good lord, we have many more available dragons where those came from who more than make up for our current lacks. There is my mother's Moondancer, Aunt Rhaena's Morning, my sister's Aemma, my cousin Daemion's Redfang, grandmother's Syrax, Uncle Viserys's Ravenscale, and of course, my dragon Palefyre. There are also two riderless dragons that need to be claimed, father's Vermax, and..." the prince trailed off slightly at the memory of Aelyx, "my late brother's Macetail."
Benedict seemed to relax a little more as Baelor spoke, nodding softly, his fearful expression melting with relief. "And who will claim these dragons, my lord?" Benedict asked calmly. Baelor turned to his right to look up at Aeric, who towered over him and whose gaze fell to meet his cousin's.
"Aeric, you can claim Vermax."
Aeric blinked twice and he gaped slightly.
"That's right!" exclaimed Aeric's younger brother Daemion. "You can finally have a dragon of your own, Aeric."
"I can," murmured Aeric with muted joy. As is the custom of House Targaryen, a dragon egg was placed in Aeric's cradle after his birth in hopes that the hatchling would have an instant bond with its future rider when it was born. But for some inexplicable reason, that egg never hatched, rendering Aeric dragonless. Dragonless until now, that is.
"That will be marvelous, Aeric," said Rhaenyra. "Bonding with Vermax should be easy since he was your uncle's dragon. You and I will go to the Dragonpit after this meeting ends so that you can try and claim Vermax. We need more dragonriders, Aeric. I know you can do it."
Aeric, who was not used to being the center of attention, nodded bashfully at his grandmother, and glanced down at his feet hoping that everyone's attention would shift towards something else. And it did. Aeric's savior was a question regarding who could claim Macetail. Ser Blackwood made a suggestion.
"My cousin's husband Addam could claim Macetail. Either he or one of his children, or maybe one of Alyn's children. They all have Targaryen ancestry."
"Alyn's two bastards should suffice as well." This remark was made by Thaleus. "Ser Addam is Castellan of High Tide and should thus remain there. Prince Corlys and his mother will need all the protection they can get with Lucerys gone."
"Aren't there any wild dragons on Dragonstone?" At long last, the Master of Coin, Creighton Bar Emmon, finally spoke. "And what of Dreamfyre? She is riderless now."
The answer for the first question was both yes and no, and the second was the same. Yes, there was one wild dragon, the infamous Cannibal, but he was too vicious and bloodthirsty to be tamed. Numerous fools over the past century had tried to tame the Cannibal only to end up filling his belly, their bones littering his lair. There were two other dragons, Sheepstealer and Grey Ghost, but both beasts had disappeared long ago. Rhaenyra recalled hearing rumors about dragon sightings in Lhazar last year during her Twentieth Year Tourney at Duskendale, but there wasn't any time now to send out someone who could confirm if there were any dragons so far out east in the land of sheep worshippers and horselords.
And as for Dreamfyre, she could not be reclaimed yet. The old she-dragon and the late Princess Helaena Targaryen shared a deep and loving bond, and Dreamfyre was reported to have roared ferociously the moment she sensed Helaena's death, breaking two of her chains as she thrashed about and mourned. Helaena only died just yesterday, so Dreamfyre could not yet be reclaimed until she was deemed calm and ready for a new rider by her keepers. In the meantime, the Blacks needed to use what they had here on the continent of Westeros and what was at their immediate disposal, and they had to use them now. Time was of the essence; it was time to strategize.
When ready, the Velaryon and royal fleets would sail through the Summer Sea to bring House Redwyne to its knees and close off the Whispering Sound in case the Hightower's tried to weather through a siege. So far, most of the rebels were sequestered in Oldtown as they raised their armies, but House Tarly had sent word that they were preparing to confront the host led by Prince Lydus Targaryen and that they were getting their forces together as quickly as they could before Lydus and his men arrived at Horn Hill. The Rowan's were raising their host to march south down from Goldengrove to Horn Hill with Princess Baela and Moondancer. There was one obstacle that would stand between Baela and the Rowan host during their southward march – Highgarden.
The grand seat of House Tyrell stood at the junction where the Rose and Ocean Roads met, and no doubt the road patrols would warn the Tyrells of the Blacks' approach, which would then be met by a force of Tyrell men when Baela and the Rowan's drew nearer to Highgarden. Battle was inevitable, but it had to be fought. Rhaenyra wanted her stepdaughter to bring fire and blood to House Tyrell for their treachery. There was the threat of the Blue Queen, whom Prince Daeron could fly to Highgarden to do battle with Moondancer, who was seven years Tessarion's junior and less than a third of her size. Small and young as Moondancer was, she was a ferocious and swift beast who could give Tessarion a run for her money.
This scenario would delay the Blacks march to Horn Hill, and it was Baelor who recommended that Aeric and Daemion could go together with their dragons to Horn Hill to do battle against Lydus's dragon Seasmoke, the largest dragon in the Greens' arsenal. Vermax and Redfang were small, but they were quick and strong, and they could work together to bring down the larger Seasmoke. Dragons aside, hosts from the Riverlands, the Stormlands, and the Westerlands were expected to march into the Reach within a fortnight of New Year's Eve 150 AC. The North and Vale of Arryn were on standby in case the rebellion spilled out beyond the Reach's borders. Dorne declared neutrality in the rebellion.
Lords Elmo Tully, Royce Baratheon, and Loreon Lannister swore fealty to the Dragon Queen as did most of their bannermen, but there were a contentious few that were declaring for the False King. Most of the noble houses of the Vale that participated in the Tourney at Gulltown on the sides of the Mad Heir or Gilded Falcon sixteen years ago in 134 AC, the most prominent of them being House Royce of Runestone, were declaring for the Greens. In the Stormlands, Lord Manfryd Caron declared for Jaehaerys II with Houses Dondarrion and Swann following suit; all three noble houses bearing a mutual grudge over how the aftermath of the Kingsgrave Conquest was handled by the Iron Throne. Westerman lords who were the fathers or grandfathers of the women and children taken captive by the Blacks during the manhunt such as Lords Turnberry, Serrett, Prester, and Farman. Lord Tully's bannermen seemed to be the most obedient out of all the regions of the Seven Kingdoms, and Elmo's correspondence with the queen revealed no sign of treachery from his vassals.
Concerning as this was, Rhaenyra was not worried. She was confident that these maverick houses were merely a disgruntled minority that would ultimately pose no real threat to the Blacks' efforts to subjugate the rebellion in the Reach. If they did cause further trouble, Rhaenyra would follow the Conqueror's example on how to deal with unruly vassals: fire and blood to the defiant, a helping hand to those who bent the knee. She hoped it wouldn't have to come to fire and blood with these rebellious lords, but if it did, then so be it. Those lords would be bringing their fates down upon themselves.
Strategizing eventually shifted into an overview of the status of the raising of the royal hosts and the forces of the Crowlands. For once everything was proceeding accordingly. Conscription notices were sent far and wide, and the manpower of these hosts was climbing steadily through the triple digits. Baelor offered to lead the army into the Reach with his cousins and their dragons. Rhaenyra objected to her grandson's offer.
"No, Baelor. You are my heir and Hand. I want you to stay here by my side." As if reading his mother's mind, Viserys spoke up just as Rhaenyra glanced over at him.
"I will lead Aeric and Daemion into the Reach in Baelor's stead, mother. Ravenscale is one-third the size of Vermax and bigger than both Palefyre and Redfang. He is swift and powerful. Ravenscale will be an invaluable asset for us."
Rhaenyra and the councilmen all nodded in agreement, but the queen felt her heart clench. She had already lost a son, a grandson, and a dear daughter-in-law to this rebellion already, and Rhaenyra could not stomach the thought of losing anymore loved ones. But there was a rebellion going on, and the Blacks needed all the help they could get. Rhaenyra knew she was going to be visiting the chapel tonight and all the nights that would follow to pray for her family and the preservation of her hold on the Iron Throne. But right now, there was more she could do besides praying; Aeric claiming Vermax was at the top of the queen's list.
The meeting was adjourned soon thereafter, and Rhaenyra, Viserys, and her three oldest grandsons traveled to the Dragonpit together. Vermax was curled up in his paddock napping when the queen and her kinsmen arrived to see him. The dragon stirred when he heard the gate to his paddock open, and he eyed his guests with interest as they came in. Aeric did not hesitate to approach his late uncle's mount; he and Daemion had known Vermax all their lives just as they knew their father's Tyraxes and all the other dragons in King's Landing. Familiarity did not keep doubt from quietly nagging at Aeric though as he drew closer to the friendly Vermax, and he was wondering if Vermax was still dejected over his previous rider's death and would reject Jace's nephew because of it; hopefully he would hiss instead of snap at Aeric or breath fire.
Vermax looked down at Aeric when he approached and reached out to pet him. The dragon blinked once and, as everyone watched with bated breath, he lowered his head down to Aeric's outstretched hand. Everyone let out a sigh of relief as Vermax let Aeric rub his head, and the tall prince chuckled to himself as he petted the dragon's crest. Vermax had accepted him. The next steps came easy.
Aeric, with some help from a Dragonpit attendant, was able to saddle Vermax and lead him out of his paddock. Being so tall, it did not take Aeric long to climb onto Vermax's back. Taking the reins as if he were riding his horse Ash, Aeric directed Vermax towards the opening in the Dragonpit where they could take off for their first flight together, the Targaryen's and some attendants tailing after them. The dragon unfurled his wings as soon as sunlight touched him, and Vermax took to the air without Aeric needing to command him to. The prince was taken aback at first by how suddenly his mount had become airborne, but exhilaration overpowered Aeric's anxiety as he took in the sensation of riding a dragon for the first time on his own.
"This is what it must have felt like for grandfather when he first rode Caraxes."
Aeric recalled fondly the tale King Daemon had been telling his grandchildren since they were old enough to listen, the tale of how he first rode Caraxes when he was two and ten after sneaking out of the Red Keep for giving a squire a black eye. Aeric breathed in the fresh air, felt the wind buffeting against his face and blowing through his hair. It was the freest feeling Aeric had ever known. He looked down at the bustling city streets below, marveling at how tiny the Kingslanders looked from above and how the streets and alleyways that they traversed through looked like a maze. Aeric found it easy to control Vermax, and he had the dragon fly around the circumference of the city walls.
Cresting the Dragonpit, Aeric ordered Vermax to let loose his dragonfire. "Dracarys!" Vermax opened his maw and released a torrent of yellow and black flames into the air. The sight was greeted with a round of applause and cheering from the prince's kinsmen below and the Dragonpit workers who were watching from below. Vermax had accepted his late rider's nephew with open wings, and Aeric had mastered his late Uncle Jace's mount with great ease.
Queen Rhaenyra approached her grandson with open arms when he dismounted Vermax, wrapping her arms around the giant prince, who stooped down for her, and she planted kisses on both of Aeric's cheeks. Whatever anxiety anyone was feeling over the impending bloodshed was overshadowed for the moment by joy and pride. Anxiety creeped into Rhaenyra's heart as she and the princes returned home, but her spirits remained high, nevertheless. The Blacks had another dragonrider at their disposal. More fire and blood to unleash upon the Pretender and his allies.
Returning home to the Red Keep, Rhaenyra made her way back to her solar with Grand Maester Thaleus in tow. Her hands still bandaged and sore, Rhaenyra dictated a letter to Thaleus, a letter addressed to Jaehaerys in Oldtown; the queen's mood had darkened as she expressed the words of her heart to Thaleus for him to write down.
"To my nephew the traitor,
My son and grandson's blood are on your hands. Lady Thea's blood is on your hands. Your mother's blood is on your hands and very soon so will the blood of your wife and children's. You and your family were provided for and never wanted for anything. You were never threatened, you were never ignored, or made to feel unwanted or less.
You were my cupbearer as a boy. I held your children in my arms as you held Visenya and my grandchildren and great-grandchildren in yours. Any ill-will I had for your grandmother and father in the past did not change the fact that you are my nephew; I was as fond of you and your brother and sister as any aunt could be of her sibling's children. But you have changed all that by betraying me and trying to steal my throne. You and your family are dead to me now for all time.
This shall be my final letter to you. If we ever see each other again, you shall be a defeated and broken man on your knees before me. And I will end your suffering, nephew, by strangling the life out of you with my bare hands. I like to think that your last thoughts will be how you brought your fate upon yourself as you squirm and gasp under my grip.
May you and your family burn in the Seven Hells.
From,
Your aunt, the one and only true ruler of the Seven Kingdoms"
Thaleus, who appeared stoic on the outside, was inwardly horrified by the queen's words. Yet, he couldn't blame her majesty. Greif and war had hardened Rhaenyra's heart. With the letter finished, Thaleus took it to the castle rookery and tied the writ to the swiftest raven available and set it loose in the direction of Oldtown. Watching as the raven disappeared into the horizon, Thaleus turned away from the window to perform duties related to readying the Blacks for battle.
Quite a catch-22 the Blacks have. More dragons than the Greens, but most of them unable to be flown into battle for multiple reasons: pregnancy, mental illness, sorrow, or being their father's only heir. But there's still plenty more for the Blacks use. Anyway, the next chapter will detail the warfront from the perspective of the Greens. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. :)