Rhaegar I
"Onward! Onward I say! The flame in the night! Find it now!" the harsh tone of King Aerys II Targaryen was like a whip splitting the night above the Dragonpit. Aerys stood surrounded by his Kingsguard as a score more of Goldcloaks searched through the Dragonpit for what their lord and King sought after. Not far from his father, Prince Rhaegar Targaryen shook his head slightly at the demeanor of his own father.
He looks to be a mad man, one of the street prophets of the Seven prophesizing the end of all things. Rhaegar turned away from his father and peered up to the dome of the Dragonpit. There had not been dragons in the pit for generations now, but even then, the Dragonpit had been designed with mind to be a foreboding place. The Dragonpit was a cavernous ruin that stretched deep into Rhaenys Hill, the smallfolk whispered that it was a cursed place and Rhaegar tended to agree with them. Rhaegar had spent some time in the pit in his youth and had even found the bones of dragons. Rather than keep them though he had tossed them aside, they were bones that looked to be the size of dogs and some were malformed in ways. Our line has dwindled from the greatness that it once was, but there is hope…
The image of beautiful, wild Lyanna Stark bloomed in his mind and a yearning to see his queen of love and beauty, but then thoughts of his own wife and child clouded his mind. Truthfully, he did care for Elia Martell despite her frailty they had laid together earlier this very night. His daughter, Rhaenys, was already becoming a sweet toddler but the fact was she looked more like her mother than she did of him. The blood of the dragon was weak in her veins and this is what Rhaegar feared for the Targaryen line, without the Prince that was Promised the Others would destroy everything. Prophecy aside he was too attracted to the rough passion of Lyanna Stark, when the time came he would set Elia Martell aside.
"My lord, you look as if you are in deep thought." The words of Barristan Selmy, one of his father's Kingsguard, interrupted Rhaegar's thoughts making him blink. Rhaegar noted with a little amusement that Barristan held his hand on the pommel of his sword, something he only usually did when he sensed a threat.
Ah, so even the courageous Selmy is afraid of old ghosts.
"It certainly is not every night that one goes chasing after a falling comet."
"Especially not after one lands in here of all places." Jamie Lannister, the newest addition to his father's Kingsguard added as he walked up to join Rhaegar and Barristan. Rhaegar noticed more than once that Ser Jamie Lannister was never too far away from Barristan, ever in awe of his elder's prowess with the sword and other knightly actions. Rhaegar had some misgivings about Jamie Lannister, mostly given that the boy's father, Tywin Lannister could not be trusted in his view. Rhaegar wondered how long until the insults his father piled on the Lord Paramount of the Westerlands would make him snap.
"I am not sure what my father wants with it, but I am certain the maesters will be climbing over each other to take a peek at it." Rhaegar said, and then turned when a shout came up from below. The comet had been found!
"No one is to touch it! On pain of death! Only a Targaryen will lay hands on it." Aerys looked to Rhaegar to be practically foaming at the mouth. Rhaegar again shook his head at his father's single-mindedness and descended into the depths of the Dragonpit to where the comet had been located. On arrival though, Rhaegar despite his earlier apathy was stunned by what had been found-as was everyman in the search party except perhaps his father who remained ecstatic bordering on ecstasy.
The comet itself appeared to be made of some sort of strange iron or steel, it was hard to tell as the three-meter-long and tall mass was misshapen and looked mostly melted. Looking around where it had crashed into the stone floor of one of the long unoccupied dragon chambers its entry had burnt and melted the stone around it. As they arrived the traces of fire seemed to snuff itself out, but none dared touch it fearing it was too hot. Except for his father of course who insisted he would not burn, but Barristan would not chance that. After calming his father down Barristan approached the comet and with his sword, tapped it and what happened next continued to show the night's surprises were not finished.
From where Barristan's sword poked at the comet a great crack immediately formed and spread across the surface of the comet, before anyone could utter a gasp the comet's surface fell off and revealed-a baby boy. Not just any baby however, the more Rhaegar stared at this baby he could not shake that there was something special about the boy. He looked perfect of limb and his eyes, the same purple eyes as a full-blooded Targaryen, if much darker, stared back at Rhaegar with an unknown intelligence. Where had this baby come from? Was it a gift from the gods? Was it a demon? These questions and more filled Rhaegar's mind in the span of only a few seconds.
"A dragon for the Targaryens! Yes, a dragon for Viserys! A dragon to be commanded by our house and destroy our hated enemies!" Aerys tittered, running one of his crooked nails across his chin. Rhaegar saw that the madness that had filled his father just moments before had been replaced by cold calculation.
"A dragon?" Rhaegar turned between his father and the baby, around him the other men of the search party were slowly shaking themselves out of the sudden stupor that had overtaken them all at the sight of the mysterious baby.
"Yes, a dragon, for our House. I shall name him Balerion after the Black Dread who served our House in conquering Westeros."
"That I do not know, Father." Rhaegar stepped forward and with ease scooped up the baby into his arms. The boy looked at him with his dark purple eyes and immediately Rhaegar felt an urge to protect the boy. "He…he looks not like a creature of mass destruction. There is something to this…lad. Have you heard of the great winged eagles of distant Yi Ti with wings of flame? Phoenix they are called."
"I am King! If I proclaim that he is a dragon, he is a dragon!" Aerys pointed his finger at Rhaegar and motioned to Barristan. Dutifully, Barristan stepped forward and raised his arms to take the baby, eyes locked with Rhaegar he saw the plead for peace in Barristan's eyes. With surprising reluctance Rhaegar carefully handed the baby over to Barristan who then took the baby, Balerion, closer to Aerys to inspect.
The prophecy of the Song of Ice and Fire whirled in Rhaegar's head. Was this baby a sign of the prophecy somehow? I have laid with my wife this night. If a boy is born…then that would be the second head of the dragon and this boy the first? He is not a Dragon though, he is something else.
Bowing to his father, Rhaegar excused himself the Dragonpit, his unanswered questions still flying in his head as if they had the wings of dragons.
Rhaella I
Rhaella's gaze as it did every day at sunset wandered westward across Blackwater Bay from her apartment in Dragonstone. Every day she wondered if she would see ships on the horizon bearing the sigil of House Baratheon and the new King of Westeros. Every day she wondered if Lannister and his men would finish what they had started with her good-sister Elia Martell, if they would smash her Viserys' head until it was unrecognizable and if they would plunge their daggers a hundred times to get to the baby she held in her womb. As these dark thoughts as always clouded her mind perhaps fortunately a new flame would light to banish them, the flame being in the form of the Phoenician.
"I hope you are well this evening, my Queen."
Rhaella turned to the tall figure who strode out onto the balcony to join her. His eyes were purple as a Targaryen, though much darker a shade than any of her family, and his hair was long enough to brush past his shoulders and silver that spoke of the Valyrian bloodline. His face was beautiful to look at and had a kindness that seemed to shine especially for her. More than once a part of her wished that her now deceased husband would have looked at her that way if only for a moment in their many years of marriage, but that her marriage to her brother Aerys had been what it had been was well beyond her control. Looking at the Phoenician she felt emotions stirring that she had only held once before for Bonifer Hasty, her first and last love, but those emotions were quickly smothered out by the next thoughts that always entered her head.
"I am fine as can be Balerion. You look well, Balerion. You seem to have outgrown yet another set of attire I believe." Rhaella smiled when he laughed and shrugged his shoulders helplessly.
"You are quite correct, my Queen. Fortunately, I was able to make a new set for myself. I know Prince Viserys has commanded me to stop growing but alas that is an order I have been unable to fulfil to him." Balerion 'Phoenici' Targaryen had come to the Red Tower a little over a year and a half ago, Aerys had been so proud to have found him he had even allowed her to hold him for just a short while. Even then she had been spellbound by the aura around the baby, but she had not believed Aerys' words about finding him within a comet. She had only believed it once he had begun to grow and mature at an astonishing rate over several months, much faster than any normal boy would. Already he was over six feet tall with the body of a knight, not the clumsy body of a toddler or even the gangling frame of a youth. That was in part why Rhaella even at her darkest hours with Aerys had not turned to Balerion, more so that he had looked to her with a motherly affection, starved of it herself by Aerys keeping Viserys away from her she had been happy to return it.
"How is Viserys? I have not seen him all day," Rhaella's smile dimmed as she thought of her second born son. She had worried endlessly over what influence Aerys had seeped into him, that despite their togetherness on Dragonstone he still avoided her at times worried her.
"Last I saw of him he was talking with Ser Darry. I'm afraid I have also been at the wrong end of one of his fitful moods as of late." Balerion sighed and looked out across Blackwater Bay. Rhaella had sensed a new tension from Viserys toward Balerion. Aerys had told Viserys that Balerion was to be a dragon and at first Viserys had received the news with boyish curiosity and excitement, but ever since the death of Aerys she had seen a resentment brew within him.
"Do you think he blames you for something?" Rhaella asked, curious to hear Balerion's thoughts. Along with growing fast he had also taken to the sword easily, but what amazed Rhaella even more was his sharp mind. He devoured the books and scrolls given to him by the maesters, if not for Robert's Rebellion she would have thought he would have traveled to the Citadel to unlock its secrets.
"I could understand it if he did." Balerion's face turned down, she thought she saw grief claw their way across his face. To Rhaella it was almost as if the light of the day fled faster as he frowned.
"What do you mean?" Rhaella asked.
"If I had been at the Trident perhaps I could have saved Rhaegar. If I had been at Kingslanding I could have saved the King, I could have saved Elia and little Aegon and Rhaenys, or any number of what ifs." Balerion gripped his hands tightly against the marble balcony, Rhaella thought for a moment it would crack.
"Aerys sent you away from Kings Landing to Dragonstone to make way for Viserys and I. He wanted you to- "
"He wanted me to be out of the way when he raped you." Balerion interrupted, his dark eyes turned to her and they were full of regret. A regret she thought he had buried for nearly nine months now. She had not realized that Balerion had felt that he had failed her. She knew had he been there Balerion would have no doubt slaughtered Aerys and the Kingsguard to see her safety. If he had done so however he would have been labeled a traitor and executed. For Rhaella emotions warred, one duty to her deceased husband and the other love for one she thought of as her son.
Slowly, she put her hands over Balerion's and squeezed them.
"What has been, has been, Balerion. It cannot be changed; the world is just imperfect like that." Rhaella softly took his chin into one of her hands and gently stroked his cheek like she would when he was a little younger and much shorter. "I ask that you try for the future. Even if you cannot make the future perfect, strive to make it the best that you can make it for my unborn child. Swear that you will look out for him or her."
"I swear I will. On my name as the Phoenici, as the Phoenician to House Targaryen I shall." Balerion fell to his knees and bowed his head toward Rhaella, his forehead just touching against the surface of her belly that was swollen with child. In Old Valyrian, Phoenici was a term that meant 'Clad in Fire', it was given to those who had sworn themselves to the service of royal houses and were adopted by those houses in kind. Phoenici worn cloths of purple to signify the status of their servitude, much like the royal purple cloak he wore, his trimmed with gold around his neck and the Targaryen colors of black and red elsewhere.
"Thank you, Balerion. No matter what happens I will remember your service to the very end." Rhaella helped Balerion stand back to his feet, though she knew he only made the effort to appear to need her help for her. She turned her eyes back toward the horizon again, seeing black storm clouds in the distance.
"A storm is coming. I shall go to the fleet and signal for them to beach for the storm." Balerion bowed once more to Rhaella, his glorious smile once more on his face, and left her alone again. Just as he was about to clear the doorway Rhaella felt a sharp pain inside of her, she let out a shout and fell to her legs. In a flash Balerion was at her side again helping her up. Behind him her armed guards rushed inside blades at the ready and pointed at Balerion. For a moment Rhaella thought he would burst and tear them apart, but her words calmed them down.
"The baby. It is coming…" she said through gritted teeth. Something inside of her felt wrong, she desperately hoped she would not have yet another stillborn. Effortlessly, Balerion lifted her up from the floor, brushed past the guards and brought her over to her bed where he laid her down gently.
"I will fetch the goodwives and the Maester at once." Balerion said and turned to one of the guards, "Go to Ser Derry at once and let him know the Queen is giving birth."
Rhaella looked past Balerion toward the horizon again, in them she thought she saw fire.
Looks like I am on fire today. Expect a bit of a hiatus tomorrow.
Edit: Fixed some breaks and italics that did not port over from Word
Balerion I
The sounds of fighting between the Targaryen loyalists and Lannister turncoats had already given way to the sounds of looting and the victorious Lannisters by the time Balerion arrived at Maegor's Holdfast within the Red Keep. From a window he could see the light of burning fires throughout Kings Landing as the last Targaryen forces were swept aside. Duty bound to protect the heirs of Aerys, Balerion had left the throne room as soon as the gates had been opened to the Lannister forces. His destination was the nursery room for the captive Elia Martell, and Rhaenys and Aegon Targaryen. It was when he reached the landing to the floor the Nursey was in that he saw the dead guards.
Unsheathing his sword, Firefang, he ran down the hallway and would let nothing get in his way. He heard the screams of Elia Martell before he had even arrived at the doorway to the nursery. The door to the nursery had already been smashed inward and what he saw inside caused a red and black rage to fill his sight. There was Gregor Clegane, Tywin Lannister's rabid hound, standing over the sobbing body of Elia Martell. In moments his keen sense of mind took in the scene before him. In the corner was the bloody body of the baby, Aegon Targaryen-for that Balerion swore vengeance. On the floor was Elia Martell, her body was beaten and her face covered in blood and tears was rapidly turning purple as Gregor squeezed the life out of her-for that he swore vengeance. Gregor himself stood with his back toward Balerion, but Balerion could still see Gregor's trousers had been undone as he raped Elia- for that Balerion swore vengeance. His vengeance was swift and unstoppable.
Yelling, Balerion charged onto Gregor plunging Firefang into Gregor's back straight through his heart. The Mountain had made to turn toward Balerion but Balerion had been too fast and with a choked gurgle Gregor had fallen dead. Tossing aside Gregor's corpse Balerion hoped to see Elia relieved to see him, but instead all that he found were her lifeless eyes. Before he could mourn her loss his ears picked up on feet entering the room, Balerion turned to the intruder and saw he was a short, portly man wearing the Lannister red. In his hands was a knife bloody from terrible use and the corpse of Rhaenys whose night shirt had been stained red from her own blood. The last intruder had been so affixed and stunned by the corpse of Gregor he had not seen his own death coming as Balerion crossed the room to him and decapitated him within moments.
Looking between the corpses of Aegon, Elia, and Rhaenys he knew he had failed.
--
The sounds of fighting between the Targaryen loyalists and Lannister turncoats had already given way to the sounds of looting and the victorious Lannisters by the time Balerion arrived at Maegor's Holdfast within the Red Keep. From a window he could see the light of burning fires throughout Kings Landing as the last Targaryen forces were swept aside. Duty bound to protect the heirs of Aerys, Balerion had stationed himself within Maegor's Holdfast. His duty was to the children of Aerys and so when he had heard news of the Lannister's forcing their way into the city he had moved as fast as his legs could carry him.
Finding himself on the landing to the nursey Balerion arrived just in time to see Gregor Clegane smash down the door to the nursey, the screams of Aegon and Elia filled the hallway.
"Gregor! Face me, you rabid hound! You monster of men!" Balerion shouted and unsheathed his sword, Firefang from its sheath. The Mountain turned toward Balerion and looked at him as if he was the strangest thing in the world before his mouth split into a hideous grin.
"The Phoenician! You have grown up you little bawling piss ant! I get to kill the Targaryens and their dragon!" Gregor laughed as he unsheathed his sword, Balerion had seen Gregor in Tywin Lannister's guard the last time he had visited Kings Landing and then he had worn a large bastard sword. Gregor must have infiltrated Maegor's Holdfast by climbing the wall, so instead he had a short sword that looked comically small in his grip. The Mountain towered over Balerion, but a certain part of Balerion told himself the mountain would not do so for much longer.
"Come at me, knave!" Balerion shouted and assumed a guard stand with Firefang. Gregor seemed to Balerion to be more than happy to oblige as he charged down the hallway toward Balerion, looking much like his namesake as he seemed to fill Balerion's vision. Balerion though did not panic and let his battle senses take over, to him Gregor's movements seemed to slow immeasurably almost to crawl at times. Balerion had no explanation for it, he told no one of what he could see for fear that they would think of him more than an oddity than what he already was. Despite its strange, almost magical, nature he was more than happy to use it to his advantage.
"I'll cut you in half and feed you to my dogs!" Gregor shouted as Balerion slipped past a side swing aimed at him, Firefang moved like quicksilver as Balerion slashed the blade across Gregor's side cutting a wound through the Mountain's flesh. By the time Gregor had roared in fury and turned to cut at Balerion again, he had already assumed another guard stance. He took the weight of Gregor's blow but rather than break against it he bent instead, slipping aside once more he turned his parry into a riposte and pierced Firefang through Gregor's ribs. Gregor shouted in pain again and made to raise one of his large fists to do doubt smash Balerion to the ground but Balerion was already several steps away.
"Hmm. Are you really the best Lannister could send? No, no, no. He sent you to murder children, you must be the worst Lannister could send." Balerion taunted Gregor, twirling Firefang between his hands with an undeniable flare.
"I'll fuck your skull!" Gregor roared and stomped toward Balerion once more. Balerion was confident in his ability to dance around Gregor, which was perhaps why he was surprised when Balerion stepped aside to avoid Gregor's next blow Gregor kept on going-into the nursery. Realizing he had been tricked he chased after Gregor just in time to see him swing his sword into the side of Elia Martell. Before he could raise it again to kill the wailing Aegon, Balerion was already on top of Gregor slamming his blade into Gregor's heart and killing him instantly.
A sense of failure flooded Balerion as he picked up the wailing Aegon from the floor and cradled him in his arms. Seeing no signs of Rhaenys, Balerion had just exited the nursery when he saw a short, portly man in Lannister colors coming down the stairs from the floor above the nursery. In his hands, he held the bloody body of Rhaenys. The Lannister assassin made to run but the weight of Rhaenys' body and the blood slicking the stairs made him slip and fall. Balerion had was there to plunge Firefang through the assassin before he could get up.
Despite saving the infant Aegon, Balerion knew he had failed in his duty and hurried from the Red Keep before the Lannisters could arrive in full force.
--
Balerion stood guard outside of the nursey where Aegon, Elia, and Rhaenys slept and were kept safe. He had maintained his watch over Rhaegar's wife and children where the heir to the Seven Kingdoms had not. Even the death of Rhaegar had not stopped Balerion from keeping his watch. From the corner of his eye Balerion detected movement, his hand went to the handle of his sword, Firefang, in preparation for an attack but the movement turned out to be the Kingsguard, Ser Barristan Selmy and Ser Jamie Lannister. He smiled at them and tipped his head in acknowledgement but he was surprised when neither Barristan or Jamie responded to him.
"Balerion Phonenici Targaryen. You are ordered by King Aerys to remove yourself from Maegor's Holdfast and present yourself to the King in his throne room." Barristan said, Balerion could tell that Barristan did not relish his order by the pleading look on his face. Balerion looked to Jamie whose face was more grimly set, Jamie had been very fond of Balerion when he had been a baby and in his youth (a little over a year ago) but Balerion's sudden and rapid maturation had seemed to make Jamie uncomfortable and distant.
Balerion was not puzzled at all by the request.
"Why has the King requested my presence? Am I not the Targaryen dragon? Should I not protect the future of his family legacy?" Balerion responded.
"The King has been…displeased…with your refusal to go to Dragonstone and watch over his heir, Viserys." Barristan said before adding, "And his pregnant wife."
Balerion felt a stab of guilt which he showed on his face.
"He wishes for you to come to him and bend the knee and recant your…mistake of choices."
"Viserys and Rhaella are safe on Dragonstone. The rebels have no navy to speak of. Aerys' grandchildren are of danger here in Kings Landing what with Stark and his forces making their way toward the city."
"Uh, we have received word that my father is approaching Kings Landing with a force of 12,000 men." Jamie said, from what Balerion could see he showed no emotion at those words which alarmed Balerion more. The Lannisters had been so far chosen neither side in the ongoing rebellion by Robert Baratheon. For them to suddenly show up offering support after such a disastrous battle as the one at the Trident smelled of a mummer's play to Balerion. Tywin Lannister had been insulted by Aerys for years, if Tywin was to have his revenge it would be now. I need to convince Aerys to not let the Lannisters into King's Landing!
"Very well, please take me to the King right away." Balerion said and was already off before either Kingsguard could respond. If he acted swiftly he may just yet prevent disaster from befalling the Targaryens.
--
"Lord Balerion, are you all right?" Ser Darry's words snapped Balerion out from deep within his mind. Reconstructed memories of King's Landing were banished as his senses took in the salt air of the Narrow Sea, the rocking of the ship taking him and the last surviving heirs to the Targaryens away from Westeros, and the words that Ser Darry had spoken.
"Ser Darry, I am quite alright. I was just running a few, well, you could call them 'theoreticals' in my head. To pass the time." Balerion gave Ser Darry a grin and flipped his hair over his shoulders, he had not noticed the sea wind had blown his hair all across his face.
"Theoreticals, my lord?" Ser Darry looked up at Balerion with puzzlement on his face.
"Ah, my apologies that is a word that I came up with not too long ago. It just came to me out of nowhere, think of it as a as an exercise for the mind. To think on what could happen in the future, or what could be happening now or what you could have done in the past. That way you are prepared for all situations."
"I believe I understand. You are thinking about strategy, like a leader does before battle."
"Yes, something like that. Though, I was more focused on the past and what I could have done to make events more…perfect." Balerion waved his hand out to sea, "Alas, as a very dear woman to my heart told me life is not perfect, especially what has happened already. We must strive to make the future a better, if not perfect, place."
Balerion turned from Ser Darry to look across the deck of the ship, there sitting in a chair was a wet nurse that Ser Darry and Balerion had helped smuggle out of Dragonstone before it could fall to the Baratheons. In her arms was the last child of Queen Rhaella, Danerys Targaryen.
"This I will not fail."
Meanwhile, in Westeros.
Jaime I
"If you had captured the remaining dragons Stannis, we would not have to sit here worrying about this at all." Robert Baratheon, not even King of Westeros for a year quite yet, said to his brother Stannis Baratheon. Jaime Lannister could see the other members of the brute Robert's small council that were present, old Jon Arryn, even older Pycelle, and the enigmatic Varys pause and hold their breath. Jamie swore he could hear the grinding of Stannis' teeth.
"Perhaps, if the remaining ships in King's Landing had not burned down during the sack of the city I could have pursued, but even if I had our ships would have been destroyed by the Targaryen fleet. I requested more men and supplies to hasten the building of a new fleet but my requests were turned down because you were too busy celebrating your kingship." Stannis replied sourly, from his position standing beside Robert clear across the table from Stannis, Jaime could see the gaunt lines of Stannis' skull. It had been months since the siege of Storm's End had been lifted but to Jaime Stannis still looked like a skeleton just waiting to burst out.
"Regardless, this is the situation we now face, your Majesty. We should focus on what can be done." Jon interjected before Robert could reply.
"Hmph, alright, alright. The dragons have escaped the pit. Now what are we supposed to do?" Robert harrumphed and settled back in his chair, he reached up to scratch at the line along his scalp where the crown appeared to be wearing at his thick skull. Jamie was also amazed by the ability of Arryn to keep Robert from saying anything further embarrassing or downright idiotic. Jaime of course dared not voice his own opinions out loud, he had killed one king already and at the moment he did not want to stir the Demon of the Trident. Jaime was mostly unhappy that the Baratheon would be marrying his sister too soon for Jaime's liking.
"What to do is a fine question. However, we would first have to know where the prin-, I mean, Viserys and his sister have gone. They could be anywhere in Essos." Varys shuffled his hands in his robes. Jaime did not like Varys, on top of him being a eunuch freak he was unnerving in a way that chilled his blood, from how he looked and how he acted. Jaime would have been happy to execute Varys alongside the old king.
"What about the dragon?" Pycelle drank from his wine cup before he continued, "He is unnatural. The greatest threat of all."
Jaime despised Pycelle the most, the man was a toad that would have been happy to see them all dead if it meant a little pleasure his way let alone save his own neck. However, Jaime was in some agreement. Besides himself, only Pycelle and Varys were the other members of the Small Council present who had met Balerion 'The Phoenician' Targaryen, let alone watch his astounding growth from a baby to one of the most extraordinary young man in less than two years.
"Ah, yes, the miraculous Balerion. Aerys' so called dragon. Does Aerys' old mummer's farce have you spooked, Pycelle?" Robert sneered and snorted with laughter before taking a heavy drink of his own tankard.
"What has been described about this Balerion is absolutely impossible. It is more likely that Aerys in his madness adopted some Lys mummer who convinced him that he was a dragon." Stannis rolled his eyes, Jaime noted besides Jon, Stannis was the only member of the Small Council to not touch their drink.
"Balerion is dangerous, your Majesty. Ser Jaime can attest to the unnatural nature of the boy, can't you?" Pycelle had turned to Jaime and so had the rest of the Small Council.
For a moment, he was caught off guard at the sudden focus of attention. Damn the Seven Hells. Why am I being brought into this? Yes, Balerion was unnatural as one could be but he was a good lad. One of the few centers of sanity and honor in the Red Keep while Aerys continued to slip.
"Balerion did seem to be rather…mature for his age. Though, I was mostly assigned to watch over…Aerys. Balerion mostly interacted with Rhaella or Viserys, you would have to ask Ser Whent, Ser Hightower or Ser Selmy more." Jaime replied and shrugged his shoulders. Considering Whent and Hightower were dead and Selmy was still rather uneasy about Robert, Jaime doubted they would receive any further information anytime soon.
"Aerys did have many relations in his youth. Oh, quite a few mistresses. It is far more likely that Balerion is the fruit of one of these unions?" Varys offered and ignored Pycelle's glare from across the table.
"Hmm. If he is one of Aerys' bastards he could be a threat. Perhaps, something was to happen to Viserys? Balerion could possibly step in and assume his name several years from now." Jon said, one hand scratching his own chin thoughtfully.
"Anyone with Valyrian blood could do the same, even if Viserys or even his sister is killed a pretender could assume their mantle and press the claim for the throne." Varys seemed a little too eager to supply his answer but Jaime could see the logic.
"We could not ban anyone with Valyrian blood from Westeros. We don't need the Daynes and Velarons raising their banners or using that as an excuse to have loyalists raise their banners against us." Stannis added.
"Fine, enough. Varys you keep your little birds or rats or whatever looking for Viserys and his sister. Triple the bounty or whatever you have to do. If Viserys or Balerion or even the baby girl try to invade Westeros we will make sure the only thing they will rule will be a shallow grave!" Robert's words sounded to Jaime as if they held the total finality of the matter. Jaime however could not help but think the opposite.
Doran I
"Behave yourself, Oberyn. Please, do not make me regret bringing you with me. Above all else do not cause a…spectacle." Doran Martell said as both he and his brother walked through the streets of Braavos. The moon hung high over the Secret City but both he and his brother were shrouded by the darkness and the heavy cloaks they wore to conceal their identities. Doran had insisted on them where his brother had protested.
"As I have said a hundred times I will, I will. Though I think we can have a little enjoyment while we are here. After all, all of Westeros believes we are staying together at the Water Gardens in Dorne. Who would believe we could be in two places at once, yes?" Oberyn laughed at Doran's impatient sigh. Perhaps, he should not have sent Oberyn into his un-official exile following the allegedly accidental death of Yronwood. Oberyn's time in Essos had made him twice as dangerous but also twice as carefree.
"If we are to have our revenge for Elia and her children secrecy must be upheld." Doran replied and that did seem to cause Oberyn to suddenly become lost for words. Doran knew Oberyn seethed and mourned for the loss of Elia just as he did, but their approaches were complete opposites. Where Oberyn had threatened to bring all of Dorne to war against the Lannisters, Doran took the quiet approach. Hence why they were both in Braavos.
"I believe that is the Sealord's residence. Is it not, Doran?" Oberyn said suddenly, making Doran turn his attention toward a townhouse which Oberyn had inclined his head toward. It did seem to fit the description given to Doran, a house with a red door.
"Let us find out." Doran replied and hurried to the door. Before he could even knock the red door swung open, an old man in the clothes of a house servant bowed in greeting to Doran and Oberyn.
"You are expected, my lords." The Servant croaked and ushered them both in taking their cloaks. Doran was surprised, did the Sealord have men following them? It was said the Faceless Men of the Many-Faced God could take on the appearance of any person, could they take on the appearance of a rat or bird too and had warned the Sealord of their approach? The Servant told Doran and Oberyn that the Sealord and Ser Darry were waiting for them both and lead them to a courtyard in the center of the townhouse.
Arriving at the courtyard Doran noticed several details. Off to one side stood the Sealord of Braavos, Monant Cervas and Ser Darry who appeared to be watching a commotion in the center of the courtyard. The center of the courtyard was dominated by a large lemon tree and below it two men appeared to be dueling one another. Looking between the duelists Doran had to blink and reconsider his earlier assessment, it was not two men dueling one another but a man of slightly below average height and a giant.
The man was bald and though his opponent loomed over him the Man seemed to flow like water across the courtyard's grass, his movements from the shuffle of his feet to the strikes of his sword controlled and graceful. Doran was impressed by the swordsmanship of the Man and Doran realized that this must be the First Sword of Braavos, Syrio Forel. Doran had seen the water dancer style of fighting native to Braavos before but not practiced by a swordsman like Syrio. Despite his opponent's size and reach Syrio was able to be where the Giant's sword was not, though Doran wondered if the Giant was holding back.
With dark purple eyes and magnificent silver hair that hung down to his shoulders the Giant could be none other than Balerion Targaryen, the Phoenician. Doran had visited Elia in King's Landing just shortly before Rhaegar's disastrous abduction of Lyanna Stark to see his newly born nephew, Aegon Targaryen. Then Balerion had been a boy, and Doran had not believed even his sister's tale of how the Phoenician who looked to be entering manhood had been a baby several months prior. However, here standing before Doran was a giant of a man, Doran guessed he must be taller than the Mountain now, with the same dark eyes and perfect face which as of now held a familiar mischievous smile. Balerion held in his hand a fencing sword very similar to Syrio's, to Doran it looked comically small in Balerion's enormous hands as if he was fighting with a carving knife and not a sword. Despite his size and obvious reach Balerion appeared to be content with parrying every blow Syrio sent at him, riposting every now and then which seemed to Doran to indicate Balerion was not interested in ending the duel anytime soon.
"He is studying the First Sword's movements. Those eyes of his are taking in everything, even the light of the moon." Oberyn commented from beside Doran and Doran couldn't help but agree. Thinking on Oberyn's words though Doran picked up an unusual tone in his brother's words and turned to look at him. Oberyn appeared to be utterly focused on Balerion, his eyes and his stance told Doran everything he needed to know about what Oberyn was thinking as Oberyn always wore his emotions like a cloak around his shoulders or a blade in his hand. Doran knew when Oberyn was fascinated by a woman or man for that matter which he wanted to take to bed. Doran briefly wondered if Balerion had sensed the intensity of Oberyn's gaze for he turned toward both Doran and Oberyn and smiled, a radiant smile that shined with warmth and pleasantries, before calling out to them both.
"My Princes! You have arrived." Balerion called out before he turned back to Syrio and bowed, "My apologies Syrio but our honored guests have arrived and I must attend to them. Even though this house is not mine being a good host is the least that I can do."
"Very well, as I said the First Sword of Braavos does not run and this duel ends without that." Syrio smiled and saluted Balerion with his sword, in reply Balerion laughed and returned the salute.
"I would not have it any other way! I am still in need of a dancing instructor such as yourself." Balerion said and sheathed his sword which was taken by the Servant from earlier and in return Balerion was handed a much larger sword. Doran guessed that this new sword must be the so called Firefang, a Valyrian sword forged for Balerion on the command of King Aerys. Balerion had quipped that he had thought to name it 'Fireblade' but as the Dragon of House Targaryen it was more fitting that he fight with a dragon's fang instead.
"We shall see, your Majesty" Syrio replied, no sooner had he said those words however a much younger voice cut in from off to the side.
"He is not a dragon! Only the Targaryens are dragons and he is not a true Targaryen or the King!" The voice brimmed with petulant anger and a fair amount of self-righteous it seemed to Doran. Doran turned his head to the source of the voice and realized it was a small boy of only around eight or so summers, he had the unmistakable trademarks of the Targaryen lineage the silver-blond hair and the purple eyes but to Doran he could not help but note they almost seemed paler when compared to Balerion's own features. Though the anger in Viserys' face or the way he clutched his hands like claws could be tailoring Doran's view. Viserys was dressed in night clothes, given the hour and the surprise look on Balerion and Ser Darry's face Doran believed that Viserys was supposed to be sound asleep.
"You are the King of Westeros." Ser Darry was quick to impose himself between Viserys and Balerion, "My King you are but you are still young. Once you have grown Balerion will conquer the Seven Kingdoms in your name. For now, though, you must get your sleep and be awake for your lessons tomorrow."
Ser Darry signaled for the Servant to take Viserys back to his room, who did so despite Viserys' loud protests. Balerion for his part looked to be un-phased by the outburst, he looked to Doran and shrugged with a bemused smile. With Viserys gone, Ser Darry was quick to move toward Doran and give a bow, his words were apologetic.
"I apologize for that outburst. Events have been…strenuous for the royal family as I am sure you can understand."
"Such is the way of royalty." Oberyn replied and waved his hand as if to dismiss the whole affair, "Shall we begin? Where is the wine?"
Adjourning to a room adjacent to the courtyard Doran sat down with his brother, Ser Darry sat across from them and the Sealord and his First Sword sat between the two. Balerion stood, he jested that unfortunately a chair to fit his size had yet to be commissioned but that he was perfectly comfortable.
"As the elected Sealord of Braavos I bear witness to the negotiations and any pacts signed here this night between House Targaryen and House Martell. Any agreements will be upheld by myself and my family should I pass before such agreements can come to pass." Monant began and sat aside, as witness he was only there to witness the proceedings and mark his seal on the pact should they come to one. Though Doran knew Monant would be keen on everything that was spoken and how it would affect Braavos in the long run.
"What word do you bring from Westeros?" Balerion was the next to speak, he inclined his head in curiosity.
"Robert Baratheon has sealed his hold over Westeros. All the major Houses have pledged themselves to his rule, at least openly. There are grumblings from the loyalists, especially those who are losing land given away by Robert, but talk of an open rebellion" Doran glanced toward Oberyn before speaking, "Have quieted. At least for now."
"Grim, but not unexpected. A civil war like this has not been seen in sometime. Added onto the madness of Aerys and the death of Rhaegar those houses that have lost already will not be keen to lose anymore…except for House Martell it seems?" Balerion's question was a good one. Doran knew he was no doubt testing the loyalty of House Martell but more so gauging the strength and nature of their conviction to the Targaryens. Doran would aim to be very clear with his response.
"House Martell is committed to revenge for the bloodshed spilled by House Baratheon and House Lannister. Our sister and her children had not just been killed by the Lannisters but murdered in the most vile of ways. Their killers go free and Robert condones the action as necessary. If it takes generations I will see House Martell topple the Baratheons and Lannisters and return the throne to the Targaryens, for the future that could have been had Aegon lived." Doran was normally reserved but speaking of his sister's death inflamed his words with a passion normally seen in Oberyn. While Ser Darry nodded dutifully, Balerion appeared to be the most affected. The taunting expression he wore on his face slipped for just a moment and Doran thought he saw deep regret in Balerion's eyes before Balerion's expression changed to a pleased one.
"I would be a liar if I did not say I share your sentiments. Very well, what does House Martell propose to see Viserys returned to the throne of Westeros?" Balerion replied, but before Doran could Ser Darry interrupted him.
"My Lords, before we continue I believe we need to discuss the short term."
Balerion looked thoughtful for a moment before he motioned for Ser Darry to continue.
"This house owned by Sealord Cervas I will be able to rent for a few years with my own family's wealth, I believe Viserys and Daenerys will be safe here so long as we continue to keep a low profile," it was then that Ser Darry hesitated before continuing, "however my lord, Balerion your presence here is a threat to that secrecy and their protection."
"What do you mean, Ser Darry?" Balerion turned toward Ser Darry, Doran had to look away from the sudden fury that had exploded across Balerion's magnificent features, his warm, dark eyes harbored what Doran likened to metaphorical dragon's fire. Balerion's hand slid down to the hilt of Firefang, out of the corner of his eye Doran could see Syrio had also placed a hand on his sword.
"My lord," Ser Darry shrank under Balerion's anger but he remained rooted to where he sat as he chose his next words carefully, "You are extraordinary, you are taller than any man and your astounding nature is well known to Varys and many others who have gone over to Robert in Westeros. Should you stay here their attention will be drawn to this place and so will the blades of assassins."
"Daenerys and Viserys are the only family I have left in this world. I made a pledge to their mother at the hour of Daenerys' birth that I would protect…her child. What else is there for me? I have sworn a pledge! To abandon it is not the way of a knight" Balerion's anger remained but talking seemed to add what appeared to be a forlorn look into his eyes. Doran realized that in his short time in Westeros Balerion must have become enamored with the ways of knightly honor and conduct.
"By leaving you are protecting them. The hidden viper is the deadliest but it is the viper with the brightest scales that draws the eyes of men." Oberyn spoke much to Doran's surprise he grasped Oberyn's words.
"Lord Balerion. If you were to appear elsewhere in Essos the eyes of Robert's men will follow you. Opportunistic assassins and informants will follow where you go for surely, they would believe the children are nearby. If you raise yourself as a threat that overshadows the threat of Viserys and Daenerys then they will be much safer." Oberyn finished and fortunately it seemed that Balerion was slowly agreeing with Oberyn's words. The anger faded from his face as he appeared to mull over the words.
"To better protect them from harm I must be away from them. I believe this sets a bitter irony for me but perhaps I should not be surprised." Balerion said with a sigh, his hand finally falling from Firefang, "What would I do then?"
"Travel to start. See the sights of Essos. Shout death to King Robert outside of taverns. Join a sellsword company?" Oberyn supplied.
"I confess I have wanted to see the marvels of Myr. More so I have wanted to travel to Qohor and learn the secrets of re-forging Valyrian steel," a smile appeared on Balerion's face once more, "The smith who re-forged Firefang was angry with me when he caught me sneaking into his workshop, he threatened to refuse Aerys request completely but I was persistent and he let me watch some of his workings."
Doran knew that the few smiths that knew how to rework Valyrian steel were mostly located in Qohor and exercised their secrecy with extreme prejudice. Those few outside of the city who knew how to rework Valyrian steel swore by an oath to not let others learn the art, some said it was bound with magical curses that would kill the smith and those who learned the secrets.
"Joining a sellsword company would let me learn more sword fighting styles."
"May, I suggest the Second Sons? I joined with them briefly when I was…traveling…around Essos myself. Recently, their old commander has passed away and a new one has been elected, I believe his name is Mero. Believe me when I say if a new commander does not show favorable luck or performance they are usually quickly replaced. Their banner is a broken sword." Oberyn said and gave Doran a sidelong glance. Doran scowled at his brother before returning his eyes back to Balerion. Doran already knew Oberyn would ask his leave to join Balerion and Doran already planned to stamp down on that, if House Martell was connected to Balerion then the secrecy of their plan would be lost.
"A broken sword? Broken swords are useless." Balerion had begun to say then his dark eyes lighted with what Doran guessed was inspiration, excitement leaked into his next words, "Re-forging a broken blade however sounds like an exciting challenge. To make it new and more…perfect than it was before. That would surely add to my reputation! Where are they located?"
Oberyn grinned.
"I believe they are still posted to the Disputed Lands, my Lord Balerion."
--
Edit: Slight addition to the paragraph where Fulgrim talks about his pledge.
Tregar I
"I must say the wine in Lys is magnificent, Ormollen, and the view, well perhaps some would say enchanting but for me it is quite familiar" Balerion inclined his head toward Yasa, Tregar's most recent concubine. The Valyrian blood ran strong in Lys and so much like Balerion, Yasa had eyes of purple and hair of silver-blonde, though Tregar noted her hair did not quite match Balerion's.
"Yes, nothing in Lys is like what you have in Westeros I can bet." Tregar said, laughing into his cup as he took another drink from it. Tregar had been to Westeros before, as a merchant prince his dealings were everywhere, and he knew of nowhere in Westeros that could match the paradise beauty of Lys. Let alone the splendor of his own manse, constructed from the finest marble it overlooked the city's high walls giving them a perfect view of the moon over the harbor. For a moment, he let his mind wander, his hand coming around to cup and squeeze Yasa's rear. Soon he would be richer than his wildest dreams and he would buy ten more concubines to please him from Lys' pillow houses. "Have you, uh, seen much else of Essos since your arrival?"
"Yes, I have been to Myr, supporters of the rightful King of Westeros helped my stay there. A fascinating city, especially the Myrish lenses, I have made several for myself before I left the city." Balerion took another sip of his wine and Tregar's heart beast sped faster in his chest. "I saw many fine statues and carpets as well. Very fetching to the eye."
"You made your own Myrish eyes?" Tregar frowned, he was incredulous of that boast even if the giant of a man seemed extraordinary, "Myrish slave artisans spend years learning how to make them. How long did you stay in Myr?"
"Only a week unfortunately. I had heard the Second Sons had gone over to Lys and tore up their Myrish contract so I took the opportunity to stop here before joining them." Balerion took yet another sip of his wine, Tregar studied Balerion's face for any signs of discoloration. Perhaps a little blush on his pale skin but other than that Tregar did not notice anything.
"That is quite amazing, my Lord Balerion." Tregar's hand fell off of Yasa, when she made to prompt him to show her more attention he pushed her hands aside and glared at her, "Yasa why don't you get Lord Balerion more of the fire wine? It looks like he is almost out."
Yasa sent him a confused look but she was quick to obey his order. Yasa walked over to a nearby table with a pitcher of wine and returned with it. Before she could refill his cup however, Balerion reached forward and plucked it from her hands.
"Please, Tregar there is no need to call me Lord. I am a guest in your house after all." Balerion grinned at Tregar, "I was quite fortunate to have met you at the waterfront. It was almost as if you were waiting for arrival! Such chance we live in this life, don't you think?"
With that Balerion tipped back the pitcher of wine to his lips and drank, Tregar stood amazed as he seemed to drain the entire pitcher in one go before he tipped back his head and let out a satisfied sigh. Tregar could not control his jaw dropping, Balerion had swallowed an entire pitcher of wine laced with the strangler. No living man could possibly drink the smallest amount of the strangler without the muscles of their throat closing up and crushing their windpipe.
It was inconceivable!
"I don't believe I am acquainted with this vintage. Though, I can certainly feel it coursing through my veins. In particular, around my neck and windpipe-ah, would this be by chance the infamous stranger? I believe it is! Per chance you would like the last sip?" Balerion offered the pitcher to Tregar, he looked into the pitcher and saw indeed there was still enough wine just for one last mouthful.
"Please…spare me! I'll do anything! Please…!" Tregar pushed himself against the back of his divan, as Balerion stood up to his full height it only made Tregar feel smaller and even more helpless. All the while Balerion's grin remained unchanged on his face.
"We all make mistakes, Tregar. That is why a person trains themselves, to be better be it for sword fighting, learning, alchemy, or so forth. So, I will forgive you this once if you return a service to me. Will you do that, Tregar?" Balerion finished his words by crushing the pitcher in his bare hands over Tregar, the remains of the wine and the ceramic splattered across Tregar's clothing.
"A-anything! I am at your service, my Lord!" Tregar begged.
"Very good, and as I said I am a guest in your house, Balerion is fine." Balerion wiped his hands of the crushed remains of the pitcher that had covered his palms, "I want you to forget that you met me."
"Forget?" Tregar asked, his mind scrambled over what Balerion meant but he could not find any possible reason.
"Yes, I am sure you tried to poison me to collect on the bounty Robert has put on my head. Unsurprisingly, you are not the first who has tried to kill me. As you can see that clearly has not worked. I could kill you but since the Second Sons have joined Lys that could cause some difficulties with my joining of their ranks. I actually prefer if you would keep my...immunity…our little secret. That way it will be much easier to know who are my real enemies!"
"Aha, I-I see. A very, ah, ingenious plan." Tregar's laugh came out like a strangled snort but the panic within him subsided. Perhaps he would get out of this alive. "I can do that! Yes, I can keep a secret very well. I'll say you declined my offers and left. Yes, will that do my- I mean, Balerion?"
"Yes, that will do just fine Tregar, just fine. Though, do keep in mind. If I find out any of my future assassins are forewarned I will come back to your household for one last visit." Balerion bowed first to Tregar and then gently took Yasa's trembling hand and kissed it with his lips, "I bid you both a pleasant night. If you find yourselves in the Disputed Lands please feel free to visit me for a pleasant drink."
Mero I
The Disputed Lands were nothing but broken fields and a few hills but for whatever reason, Mero guessed pride, the magisters of Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh wanted it to themselves hence why they had fought for it on and off for the last four centuries since the Doom of Valyria. Sometimes the fights between the cities would be epic showdowns where they hired tens of thousands of sellswords and entire sellsail fleets, even sometimes the other Free Cities became involved. Most of the time however, such as now, the cities just skirmished over lines on the map, mostly the odd hill or river and the various settlements that popped up and burned down in the tides of war. Only the magisters of the Free Cities would see a small hill with a dead tree and think it an imposing mountain to take which would ensure their control over the entire region.
"Get a move on you scum, form the line!" Mero shouted, his hand cuffed one of the newer recruits around the head and pushed another forward toward their places in the shield wall. Mero stole a glance across the field toward the land marker the magisters in Lys had ordered the Second Sons to take, a hill with a dead tree.
"Do not fear! Do not quake! For you are sons of men, and true men fight!" Balerion Targaryen's voice called out over the clamor of several hundred marching Second Sons. Around him Balerion could see the line of Second Sons with spears and swords was the thickest and to Mero it appeared the strongest. The men around Balerion stole glances at the exiled Targaryen and seemed to hold their shields up higher, their marching steps seemed to beat in perfect rhythm as they matched steps together. In contrast, the parts of the Second Sons' line where Mero had ordered and beaten his men to stand were the weakest and looked shabby.
Mero did not like the Dragon at all. He smiled too much. Even now, in the field of battle it looked like he was enjoying a stroll through a pillow house in Lys. Mero thought that Balerion was a fool, and was happy to see the Targaryen dead- IF it meant that Mero could steal his body and make good on the bounty on his head. Mero had been tempted from the moment Balerion had first walked into the Second Sons camp, given them his name and asked to join their sellsword company.
He had been frighting, imposing at first glance. Freighting at being a giant of a man, imposing by the perfect quality of his features and aura of certainty of purpose. Mero knew he would never have been able to defeat Balerion in an outright duel so Mero had been tempted to call all four hundred of his men and swamp the giant but looking closer at Balerion he had known that there was much more to Balerion. He had not worn any armor, a pair of trousers and a purple tunic but in his hand he held what Mero had immediately saw was a Valyrian sword. To a man of Mero's size it was a bastard sword designed to be held with two hands but in Balerion's hand it looked like a short sword if not a toothpick. Mero knew if he ordered the Second Sons to attack he would very likely lose a score of men, something he could not afford after switching sides to Lys after all the gold they had offered. Better yet, let the Targaryen join and die on the battlefield not only would he take out their opponents but Mero would still be paid by Lys.
So, Balerion had signed his name in red ink in the Second Sons' ledger and more to Mero's surprise had immediately gone to the company's forge-maesters, those who handled repairing the company's arms and armor and had crafted for himself a black-steel set of plate mail to fit his enormous frame. Not only was Balerion able to move in the armor as if it weighed nothing but he had made it from the discarded, broken steel in a single night! Balerion had quipped he had modeled it after Prince Rhaegar's armor and hoped that once King Robert in Westeros heard of him the King would choke on his wine. There was much more to Balerion than just his appearance, if Mero wanted to collect on the reward for Balerion he would have to be patient and with luck let the bravo kill himself.
"Arrows!" a shout came up from the line and Mero saw a black cloud of arrows were indeed flying toward them. He raised his shield and felt the thunk of at least one arrow embed itself into it but peering out he saw the majority of the arrows had not fallen around him but around Balerion.
"Even if the Company of the Rose hasn't heard of the bounty, they were founded by exiles that didn't bend the knee to the first Targaryen conquerors. That they have one right in front of them must be too tempting." Mero chuckled darkly, Balerion still stood tall and oh-so-proud, not a single arrow had pierced the armor he had made, but the men of the Second Sons who had flocked around him were not so lucky, many of them were down or screaming at arrows lodged in them. Mero saw the flicker of surprise and hurt appear on Balerion's face which made him grin. "For all of his abilities this is the first time he has lead men to war! This isn't some fucking knightly practice duel! This is the battlefield where there is blood and shit coming out of hundreds of men who die."
"Now, he can run away like a coward or do the stupid thing all hopped up lordlings do and…"
Mero did not need to finish his words as Balerion acted like Mero had expected. Balerion shouted a howl of rage, he closed the visor to his helmet leaving only his flowing silver hair visible and charged off from the Second Sons' line toward the Company of the Rose, several yards still ahead. Mero thought he could already taste the gold now, Balerion would be swamped by the Company of the Rose's men and Mero would sweep the Second Sons forward to claim Balerion's body. Mero had to admit though Balerion appeared to be the Warrior incarnate as he stormed into the Company of the Rose's line.
As Balerion charged several more arrows had loosened from the Company of the Rose's line, either missing him completely or breaking apart against his sword and shield. The line of Balerion's opponents closed together with shields forward and long spears out, Mero waited to see if a dozen spears would stab forward at the last minute to take Balerion in the neck or joints of his armor but Balerion surprised Mero. At the last moment Balerion seemed to flow past the pointed spears, his speed and footwork made Mero blink he had only seen that kind of movement among the Water Dancer swordsmen of Braavos but Balerion seemed to take it to another level as in the blink of an eye Balerion was past the spears and among the Company of the Rose. Balerion carved a red path of ruin through them, his Valyrian sword cutting past shields and swords of his opponents, Mero thought he saw Balerion switch effortlessly from the thrusts of the Braavos Water Dancers to the powerful swings of Westerosi Knights. In less than a minute Balerion had punched an hole through the Company of the Roses' men that would have taken the charge of a hundred men to make. Mero realized that the impression that Balerion's charge had made on him had not affected him alone.
"For the Dragon!"
"To the Third Son!"
"Blood and Fire!"
The shouts erupted from the Second Sons line and well over a hundred of his own men were sprinting across the battlefield, plunging into the gap made by Balerion and into the Company of the Rose. Mero shouted, commanded them to stop but none of them seemed to listen let alone turn back to look at him. Mero felt anger burst up from inside of him, he felt like killing someone and if it wasn't going to be Balerion it may as well be the Company of the Rose.
"Forward! Second Sons charge! Archers, Pikemen cover the flanks!" Mero snarled, moving forward with the rest of the Second Sons to engage the Company of the Rose.
With the second wave of Second Sons the lines of the Company of the Rose collapsed, orders from their officers and leaders called for a general retreat. Those that could did so, either taking their swords with them or throwing them down before they ran for their lives. Seeing that the hard work had already been done Mero looked for Balerion and was not surprised to fine him still charging up the bloody hill. When he reached the summit, he stopped and turned back toward the Second Sons, dramatically Balerion tore off his helmet and roared, his sword held high as he saluted the Second Sons. Mero was startled when the majority of the Second Sons, particularly those who had first charged, returned Balerion's victory scream. The Second Sons were made up of men from all across Essos and while there was a good number from Westeros being paid was their number one goals in life. Now though they cheered the knightly stupidity of Balerion, had they become infected by Balerion's knightly bravo?
Mero licked his lips and glared toward Balerion. Mero would have to be more careful from that day forward if he wanted to collect Balerion's bounty and remain captain of the Second Sons.
Balerion II
It had been nearly two months since the Battle of the Dead Tree, as Balerion liked to call it even if it had mostly been a skirmish, and he was pleased that the scrolls and books he had bought with his pay and loot from the battle had arrived from Lys. His fellow sellswords had questioned his reasoning, Balerion had understood it had mostly been born from confusion more than anything. Sellswords mostly spent their money on wine, women, and food-not necessarily in that order-and the smarter ones would set some of their pay aside for the future but mostly those whose hair had begun to grey. Balerion realized that they lived with the reality that their chosen profession could mean their deaths, not all of them recognized it but Balerion theorized that some instinctual human drive drove them to enjoy what they had-which was why most spent their earnings so heavily after battles. He had actually written down some of his thoughts on paper and planned to put them in a book or journal at some point soon.
"What makes me different however is my purpose in life." Balerion had mused to himself with a grim smile. Where most normal men who joined a sellsword company did so either because they had no choice or fantasy of an adventurous lifestyle, he worked for a greater purpose. To fulfill his vow to Lady Rhaella and return her children to the Iron Throne of Westeros. Sometimes he thought of abandoning his vow, he was a capable warrior, he was smarter than most men, and he knew he could have deposed Mero at any time and many of the Second Sons would follow him. Perhaps then he could have worked toward conquering one of the Free Cities for himself, certainly somewhere deep inside of him he felt an almost instinctual urge to rise and rise above just as most men felt the urge to lay with women or gather gold. Whenever he felt that urge though it always felt bland and colorless, he was not some soulless mechanism, he felt the grief and guilt his actions would mean if he abandoned Viserys and little Daenerys-their deaths.
We may not be family by blood, but by the madness of a monster we are still family. I don't know if the dragons of old lived in packs per say but a lone dragon would surely die where a pack would survive. Perhaps, a wing of dragons would be more appropriate? Balerion opened the first book he had acquired, he had been assured by the book merchant in Lys that the copies he had ordered had been made in the Citadel itself. It was titled "The Burnination of Old Ghis: A History of the Ghiscari-Valyrian Wars" and Balerion was eager to learn its secrets. He heard the flap of his tent open, Balerion listed to the sound of his new guests' footfalls and the brush of their clothing against the fabric of his tent which gave him all the information he needed to know his guest's identity.
"Garibald, what word do you have?"
"My Lord, a letter for you has arrived from Pentos." Garibald replied and then Balerion turned to his impromptu squire with curiosity. Garibald himself was a young man with dark hair, he claimed to have been of Braavosi and Westerosi stock-his father he said was Paxter Redwyne of the Arbor- so he took the surname Flowers. Balerion had never met Paxter Redwyne but he had heard that the Redwynes all had freckles and orange hair, Balerion had not yet mentioned this to Garibald. Garibald handed Balerion the letter and turned toward the stack of books and scrolls nestled on the table which along with the tent, the chair, rug, and bed had once belonged to one of the officers of the Company of the Rose before Balerion had taken it for himself. "Books, my Lord?"
"Yes, books Garibald. Though, I know already you know what books are. Perhaps, your true question is why do I have these books or what do these books hold?" Balerion taunted playfully, Garibald's sudden blush was all Balerion needed to laugh aloud.
"Y-yes, my Lord. I'll remember to be more, uh, specific next time." Garibald bowed and made to turn to rush out the door but Balerion stopped him before he could go.
"Now, now Garibald that is a fine question to have. You just need to work on your delivery more." Balerion said and turned the books to Garibald so he could see the titles of the books which included such works as "History of the Rhoynish Wars", "The Red and Black Dragon", and "The Unsullied".
"Books about wars and battles as recently as twenty years ago to as long as a thousand years ago! Perhaps, you could tell me why I am reading these books?"
"Um, is it like how you always train and ask questions from the other sellswords who are from all over? You want to know more?" Garibald replied, one eyebrow raised.
"Indeed! The history of war in our world is long and of course violent. Perhaps, if I am lucky, learning from the mistakes of long dead men I may conquer the future!" Balerion replied with a laugh. Garibald was no great thinker but Balerion thought he had potential, Garibald had learned some of the lessons of the sword Balerion had taught not just him but other members of the Second Sons, he had heard some of them had begun to call themselves the Third Sons in his honor.
The Battle of the Dead Tree had opened his eyes to his own foolishness. In the halls of Kings Landing, the Barracks of Dragonstone or on the streets of the Free Cities all he had ever done was duel opponents one-on-one with the occasional one-on-several to test his limits or a genuine ambush by assassins or muggers. He had never lead men to battle and he had waded into his first in his own strong headed way without realizing the consequences for those who had died around him. War was death, he understood soldiers or warriors died, but what had shamed him the most was his own loss of control. His own bravo had been vain and his charge across the field had been without thought, it was only once he had waded into the ranks of the Company of the Rose did something inside of him snap him back into control.
It had been an epiphany, he could not just win back Westeros by being a warrior-knight! He had to be a warrior, he had to be a general, he had to be a sellsword, he had to be a maester, and so much more! He had to master so many spheres of warfare, and not just the martial ones, if he was to conquer Westeros and perhaps more. He had gone throughout the members of the Second Sons which boasted men from across the world be they Braavosi, Summer Islander, Ibbenese, Qohorik, Dornish, Dothraki, Westerosi, and more. Learning of their various cultures and the various styles of the martial art they came from being it using the sword, spear, or bow. Of course, not all had been masters so Balerion planned to visit the far-off places of Essos. Learning of the famed lockstep legions of Ghis would perhaps be the most difficult for Balerion, though the city of New Ghis was said to emulate the old legions the Unsullied were said to be the best examples of contemporary times and Balerion detested all of the rumors he had heard about how the slave soldiers had been trained.
He knew that if he was to conquer Westeros he needed armies, but what he wanted were soldiers who excelled just as he wanted to. To perfect the arts of war and be able to swiftly meet any threat, adapt to it and crush it. The Third Sons were not like him, they could not master these arts of war as easily as he did and so Balerion was happy to be sword instructor to them all. He was truly enjoying this role in particular, seeing that he learned his own lessons of success and failure just as the Third Sons did.
Balerion knew Mero was not happy with him subverting his position within the Second Sons, and Balerion had guessed that Mero would be happy to see Balerion fall so that he could collect on the bounty. Balerion had signed with the Second Sons for a five-year contract, he had already made plans for those of his Third Sons whose contracts ended before him to begin preparations for forming a new sellsword company. Balerion was interested to see if Mero would attempt to kill him before Balerion took the best warriors under Mero's command.
"You may go, Garibald." Balerion said, opening the sealed letter. Though he trusted Garibald he did not yet trust him with the safety of Viserys and Daenerys. Garibald bowed again, bid Balerion good night and left Balerion's tent. Alone Balerion read the letter from Ser Darry, they had created a mailing network where they would not directly send any letters to one another, they used a series of false names and trusted contacts so that Robert's spies would not detect the Targaryens to Braavos.
The letter told Balerion that thus far Daenerys and Viserys were doing well. Daenerys was growing into a talkative toddler and that Viserys' studies had continued. Anyone who visited the household, and especially the house staff that could not be trusted, were told that Daenerys and Viserys were Ser Darry's grandchildren and that Darry's son had married a Lyseni. Balerion looked forward to seeing them once he could arrange for a visit back to Braavos. The only matter that Balerion truly worried about was Viserys, his bellicose attitude to Balerion which had surfaced on Dragonstone had continued to Braavos. Viserys had spent much of his time with Aerys, it had been Balerion and Queen Rhaella's hope that Viserys had not adopted Aerys' madness.
"What was the saying, Ser Selmy had said? When a Targaryen is born the gods flip a coin? One side for madness, the other for genius? Sometimes I wonder if the coin landed on both sides for me…"