Willas Tyrell
On route to Dragonstone, 300AC
Never had he ridden so fast. Not even when he had ridden for Bitterbridge from Highgarden to alert his family to the raven from the man he was now declaring as his King. Three thousand men they had taken with them, keeping the remainder of the army behind for his Grace to plan out his next moves if they succeeded with the mission assigned.
It was certainly a bold mission, that was for certain. The time constraint was weighing heavily and as each day passed and they got closer to Maidenpool, he hoped they didn't run into any trouble or were stopped by a storm. They had been given a three day estimate, but Willas knew better. With luck, it was two and a half days they had. Urging his horse to gallop at a speed that would be considered dangerous but the men followed obediently. His sister close behind him as if they succeed in taking Dragonstone, that was where she was going to meet her new betrothed.
Margaery had asked questions of course and had snorted when he spoke on how he had ridden a dragon over his head. Wholly believing him to be japing as was his grandmother and brothers. Well, at least they were about to find out the harsh truth of the matter. How had they kept a dragon hidden in the first place? Trying his best to piece it all together and recalling the numerous tomes he had read when he was a boy on how fast they grew. Not once getting a concise answer which annoyed him greatly. After what felt like an age, they arrived in Maidenpool. Riding through the large town until they reached the harbour to see a few dozen ships awaiting them. A man walking over and speaking to them all.
"Each ship will hold a little more than one hundred. Not all of you will be able to take your horses but Lord Monford has arranged somewhere for those who cannot fit to stay. Lord Stannis left this morning and is expected to be at the city by nightfall."
Willas' eyes widened at that, eyeing Garlan in shock because now they had even less time to succeed. It was late in the day; they should arrive at Dragonstone early in the morning providing the sea is kind to them. Then they had to take the castle, secure it, fortify it, all before anyone could sail back who had gone with Stannis. But they agreed to this, and House Tyrell were loyal to the dragons once again. If it weren't for Aegon, Rhaenys, and Visenya, his House never would've risen to the station it was. They owed everything to House Targaryen. Their oaths may have wavered for a time, but not anymore. Nodding his head to the man before riding onto one of the ships and dismounting, a crew member taking the reins and his beloved horse below deck.
It took a little more than an hour before everyone was on a ship, and once they were no time was wasted in sailing out of the harbour and heading south. Once they were moving, his mind wandered to a single question. How did Lord Monford fit into this? And if he was on his King's side, why was he with Lord Stannis? Was he the spy that was hinted at during that meeting in the camp? Shaking his head a little to the side because he would get an answer to the question relatively soon. Margaery walking to stand beside him now, dark brown hair blowing in the wind and wearing a shawl around her shoulders from the chilly air.
"If you stopped wearing dresses which exposed so much skin you wouldn't be cold, sweet sister."
She punched him at that, laughing merrily at the comment. Instead pulling her shawl further around her. Willas knew why, their grandmother had been clear in teaching his sister that a woman's best weapon was her tongue and her body. If both of these were mastered, the south believed there was no need to wield a weapon. Something which their mother didn't agree on so did have some combat lessons instilled when she was young. Would she be able to hold herself in a fight? Probably not. But she'd at the least be able to defend herself should the need arise. Moving below deck to see his grandmother and mother with a game of Cyvasse and a tray of cheese and biscuits. Watching every move made and thinking on what they could do. Garlan and Loras were inched over the detailed map of Dragonstone depicting the towns and numerous villages, the Dragonmont, and the castle itself.
Willas had visited Dragonstone once, when he was a younger boy and his father wanted to show him more than Highgarden and the Reach. The imposing black castle forged completely out of black stone from molten rocks who knows how long ago. There was a lot of discrepancy to whether the island belonged to Essos, Westeros, or neither. It had been the westernmost outpost of the Freehold, and the Freehold only ever conquered Essos to their knowledge. Rarely visiting Westeros. The only proof they had come further out was the glass candles his grandfather had in the Hightower which he'd confirmed by letter were burning again- whatever that meant. Alongside the fact there were numerous buildings in Oldtown made from black stone. If black stone came from melting rock by dragon fire and carefully moulded, logically it meant Valyrian's had visited at some point in history.
Unsurprisingly, his grandmother won the game. His mother getting up and moving to his father as Margaery took their mothers position and quirking an eyebrow up to challenge another game. Himself walking over to his brothers and seeing what they were plotting alongside Emmon Ashford. Willas hated him, but he couldn't deny the man was an incredible war commander. Being part of the only battle where Robert Baratheon had been beaten during the Rebellion at Ashford. A tough man, and a leal man too. They planned for hours, deciding the best area to attack. The King had stated before they left he wanted as little casualties as possible, so attacking the towns and villages was out of the question. No, they had to take the castle and either have the remaining army yield or beat them. Not impossible, but incredibly tricky. The harbour itself was directly next to the largest town on the island, and the castle was much further back directly at the base of the Dragonmont. To get there quickly they had to dock at the side, but he remembered seeing the shore there was incredibly jagged from volcanic activity.
"No matter which route we take it will be the same amount of time. Jagged shores are difficult to move across and will slow the army down. We should dock here."
Emmon pointed to a bay further along from the town that seemed to be of a similar size. Slightly closer to the castle too which would give them an extra few minutes. Time was the one thing they needed; any extra second would be immensely appreciated. By now, it was pitch black outside. The water calm as they glided closer to their destination. Fear ebbing deep within as he himself would not be fighting. How could he? He couldn't even stand upright without his cane. He would be standing on deck watching the fight occur. Continuing to plan and working out a route to get there quickly.
"Prepare to land!"
Had they arrived? Willas blinked a few times because it felt like only seconds had passed. Looking out the window to see the sky was a dark blue showing it was approaching dawn, confirmation hours had indeed passed. Holding his breath and listening carefully but he could hear nothing alarming. Moving to the deck and standing beside his sister who was gripping the edge of the railing so tight her knuckles were white. The rocky shores coming into his vision now alongside the smoking volcano that was still active. Not that locals seemed to mind; they were probably used to eruptions.
"We're really doing this."
"Well, it's either this or Joffrey. Take your pick."
The look of horror on her face was all the confirmation she was not pleased with the second option. And yet, if he hadn't arrived in Bitterbridge on time, it would've been the option they took. Growing Strong. Garlan and Loras were strapping their swords to their hips now, squires adjusting their armour as needed to ensure maximum protection. Nodding lightly to them as he did not trust his voice to be steady. Willas had felt fear before, of course. Who hadn't? But this was a fear he had never felt before, and the biting chill of the air wasn't helping the situation. Watching the boats being lowered and people clambering into them and beginning to row to shore as they had gotten as close as they could to the bay. If they moved closer, they would undoubtedly damage the ship. Now, all they could do was wait.
It wasn't long before the shores were littered in the army as they began running deeper inland. Mist quickly engulfing their vision until they could see nothing other than the sky towers of the castle where dragons had once landed often. When the Freehold was at its height, no one could beat them. The Dothraki had tried numerous times and were beaten back. The Ghiscari tried multiple times and were left not only defeated but their empire destroyed. The Rhoynar had tried and only the occupants of Ny Sar escaped with Princess Nymeria. Despite how far they were, he could hear the sound of swords hitting other swords. Clanging together in a complicated dance alongside screams of pain as men fell. The mist now so thick it would not be surprising if he could take a knife and carve a shape into it.
"If we fail?"
"Then our House is a bud again waiting to bloom, sweet sister."
Tyrion Lannister
Kings Landing, 300AC
The night was ominously quiet. On any other day this would be strange. Kings Landing was a truly massive city with a population too large to accommodate securely. Leading to people living in the streets or too many people living in tiny houses. He'd only visited a handful of times and the novelty of it wore away quickly and he would wish he was somewhere else. Somewhere that didn't stink of piss, shit, and death from decaying bodies.
Tyrion had lost count on the number of reports that had come in or the people who were granted an audience with his wretched nephew begging for food. It wasn't a large ask, and any decent person would do just that. Joffrey was anything but- remembering him ordering dozens of peoples heads because one person thought it was a grand idea to throw sheep dung at his face. Whilst he would never say it aloud, it was amusing watching the spoiled brat rant and rave, very much reminding him of his dearest sister who acted the same when they were children.
Many people were fooled by Cersei. How could someone so beautiful and so well spoken be a monster after all? He hadn't seen her since one of the scouts entered the council chamber confirming that nearing one hundred ships were seen getting closer to the harbour. All with sails of a burning stag inside a red heart. The more time that passed, the more his heart thumped and nerves got so bad his normally steady face cracked a couple of times. Where in seven hells was his damned sister and nephew? He needed to know what they were plotting and he needed to know now. He was Hand of the King in his fathers stead, meaning he had just as much authority as the King himself. And gods, did he love to rub that in Cersei's face.
And then the bells started ringing.
He gulped loudly before finally asking one of the servants, finding out his sister had been escorted into one of the many shelters for people to hide in but Joffrey was nowhere to be seen. Well, at least it was one problem solved. Better than nothing. Walking through the courtyard and asking for a weapon, being handed a comically large axe that he struggled to carry as it was larger than he himself was. With a change of grip though he was able to lift it from the ground and heading towards the Mud Gate where if his suspicions were correct, would be exactly where Stannis would hit.
This was the only portion of the city that wasn't as heavily armed, the Blackwater providing all the necessary fortification needed- well, excluding attacks by ship that was. Bronn met him there, asking if he was still the one being given the honour to release the flaming arrow. Eyes closing for a moment and praying to any gods whether it be an old god, one of the seven, or even bloody R'hllor. Any reassurance would be grateful. What if it didn't work? Tyrion shook his head at this thought, there was no use dwelling on what could happen. If it did fail, it would at the least buy them time to group together.
He could hear the screaming from the innocents of the city fleeing for shelter. No doubt remembering the last time the city had been sacked. Where thousands of women were raped, and tens of thousands butchered solely because they dared to live in the city. Damn his father at times. The city had fifteen thousand men to call on. Whilst not a lot, it was a decent number. The remainder of the army being with his father in the Riverland's somewhere from the latest communication. Tywin had left Harrenhal about a month prior, but where he currently was, was unknown.
Probably trying to recruit the Tyrell's. Mace Tyrell would be stupid and greedy enough to accept. To think all this nonsense started because his wonderful nephew had the brilliant idea of executing Eddard Stark. That piece of theatre was going to haunt House Lannister for at least a generation but it wouldn't be surprising if it would do so for numerous. The last time a Stark had entered the city and was executed by the King led to a rebellion. Not that it had even been that long ago. Whilst he himself had been too young to remember much of it, Jaime spoke of it often as did his uncles, aunt, and cousins at Casterly Rock. And then he heard it, the distant sound of thumping drums. Walking as fast as his stunted legs would move until they were at the gate, sighing in relief at seeing Joffrey at the front. Whilst he was abysmal with swordplay, it at least looked good. As the days passed, it was getting more difficult to hide his increasing madness and demands. Bronn walked on through the gate to the rocky shore beside the brazier, flexing the string of his bow a few times whilst he was at it. The city was ominously silent, only making the increasing sound of the drums on the ships heading their way making it seem more real.
"There they are."
Tyrion didn't need to look, knowing Joffrey was pointing at the silhouette of the ship that peeked from the mist that had completely enveloped the Blackwater. Then a second ship, and a third ship, and a fourth ship. Licking his lips to allow some moisture in as they were painfully cracked from him gnawing on them for most of the day when no one was looking his way.
"Archers to the marks."
The command felt foreign on his tongue but he spoke it all the same. Gripping the hilt of his axe tighter and praying silently his hands would not sweat to a point he couldn't do so. A few dozen ships were visible now, and in a matter of minutes they would be at the shore. People were running behind them to get to their positions as did all the archers at the top of the gate where they were standing.
"Hold fast."
"What are you doing?! We need to attack- "
He barely spared him a look and stating to hold fast again. Joffrey's face turning red in anger from being spoke over like a child. Tyrion would stop talking to him like a child when he stopped acting like one. He was a man grown now no matter what Cersei would say. Luckily, he knew not to say anything else as he threw a rock towards Bronn, the signal to send out the single ship that had been filled with a substance he himself had never seen in action. Was it as horrifyingly beautiful as people said it was? Or was it just horrifying?
"Why have we only got one ship, where are the rest of them?!"
Fucking hell, he just wanted to turn around and punch some sense into his nephew. But right now was not a good time to do so. The single ship getting closer to the dozens that were now visible. Patiently waiting until it was close enough that the wildfire would not strike backwards and hit the city. Bronn fired a couple of arrows which opened a handful of the kegs as they began to spill the luminous green substance into the water. So thick it was that it lay on the top and never sinking underneath. Spreading out slowly in a pattern that he hoped would cause utmost calamity. The less men Stannis has to get to the shores (if he got to the shores that is), the better a chance they have at coming out on top. Looking down to Bronn and nodding, watching as he pierced a small block of wood with his arrow, dipping it into the brazier until it was alight and taking aim. The pyromancer now in his sight with a strange grin like he were excited by what was about to happen. He probably was, considering how happy he was to explain the properties of it when he had visited the Alchemist's Guild in the city. Bronn allowed the flame to almost engulf the arrow completely before he let it loose. A single flame being visible in the sky, seemingly moving at a crawling pace but that wasn't possible. And then the fire wasn't visible anymore, fear gripping him tight. Had he missed the hit? If he had they had just lost precious time-
And then it happened. The water glowing green as the flame quickly spread across where it had been spread. Sounding much alike a hearth being lit on a cold winters day. The bang as it finally ignited immediately making his ears ache and step back in astonishment at the sight. Horrifyingly beautiful indeed. It took only a few seconds before the entire bay was alight, ships being blown to pieces and hearing men scream as they burned. Even from where they stood, he could feel the heat from the unnatural flames. Ships collapsing into the water and pieces of wood being thrown directly their way that was how strong the force of the blast had been. At least they weren't close enough to smell burning flesh. People were jumping now, choosing to drown trying to swim to the shore than get to the shore on a ship burning around them. He turned to face those behind him then. Lancel looked like he had shit his breeches which given the sour scent he'd at the least pissed himself. The Hound was staring straight ahead but from the way he was gripping and regripping his sword he knew he was unsettled. Understandable, considering his dearest brother had pressed his face into burning coals when he was a boy. The pyromancer and Joffrey however were wearing looks of glee. Enjoying every single moment of this which Tyrion had no idea how to feel about.
If it were glee over a successful first attack then he would've welcomed it. But given his nephews proclivities and the way the other was crying in pride- he knew this was not the case. Turning towards the spectacle once again to see orange flames were visible now meaning Stannis had intended to use fire too. Unfortunately, he had just found out wildfire was much, much stronger than regular fire. The two meshing together and more explosions occurring as some areas where the wildfire had reached that had failed to ignite did so. Even more ships being blown to pieces and screams of people as they tried to flee or writhing in agony. However, Tyrion knew Stannis. Not well, but he did know him. That man wouldn't change his mind even if a sword was shoved up his arse. He probably already did from the little he'd heard about him.
No, there was no doubt in his mind. Stannis Baratheon was going to land on the shores and he was going to sack the city with the men he had remaining. Now, the only thing they could do was wait. Only realising now just how much he despised waiting. Tapping his foot anxiously and wiping the palms of his hands on some cloth on his armour before ensuring his grip was as tight as it could be. If this was going to be how he died, at least he'd die with some shred of honour. More than what he would normally dare to dream for considering he was a dwarf. They did not need to wait for long, numerous boats filled with people rowing their way now that the wildfire had finally burned away. Where dozens of ships had been was now completely empty, and the area covered in smoke so strong he could feel it burning deep within his lungs. From how dark it was, he could not calculate an estimated number of troops.
"He's a serious man, Stannis Baratheon."
"They're coming ashore."
State the obvious nephew, why don't you? The slight quiver in his tone wasn't missed either.
"So rain fire on them."
The archers obeyed the command and took their positions once again, getting ready to shoot down on the boats getting closer and closer to the gate. Being able to hear the yells of the army.
"Pod. Run to the Kings Gate. Any men guarding it are ordered to get here now."
The braziers were relit along the top of the wall as the men lit their arrows and took aim again, just as the first face become legible to him from one of the boats. They were chanting now, but they were too far away to make out the words. And a moment later seemingly, the first boat docked and people stepped onto the shore and began running to the guards surrounding the outer portion of the gate. Come on Pod, get the reinforcements here otherwise the walls would be breached. Hundreds of flaming arrows shot through the sky and landing on the beach below. Numerous falling as they were pierced, others catching fire as they were unlucky in being hit on a piece of clothing, and others were able to dodge with ease. Hundreds of men were now filling the beach as more boats docked, knowing if they didn't get help now then they were well and truly fucked.
More arrows were fired then, more men falling than before as now there was no room for them to dodge. Almost being squished together there were that many. Despite their efforts, it was to no avail. The first lot of people reaching the stone and quickly slaying the men and working on breaking the gate to gain entry to the city. Rocks were being thrown now, cringing in disgust as he watched a few heads cracking open from the impact. Arrows were flying towards them now, many of the archers falling from the impact to the army below only to be torn apart like a rabid animal enjoying its first meal in days. Men began pouring out of the city and Tyrion almost cried in joy at realising the extra force situated at the Kings Gate had arrived. Spotting the white cloak of the Hound and the golden hair of Lancel in amongst the calamity. Cloaks of red breaking through them and managing to keep them from entering.
Blood was everywhere, spurting from dismembered body parts, from crushed heads from the rocks, or from pierced necks from arrows. The scent was overwhelming and if this were not a battle, he would've wretched over the edge already. In fact, that might not be the worst idea. Quite enjoying the sound of 'The poor soul who perished from being covered in the imps vomit.' Flaming arrows were being shot again as their men were beaten soundly as the army got closer to the wall once again which he noticed now to his horror the gate was partially opened. Cursing under his breath and ignoring the yells of his nephew demanding what they were going to do now. Many retreated back through the gate as he watched more people run from more boats carrying ladders between them. Oh fuck, they were planning to take them out at the same time. Splitting their forces in two and there was not enough time to separate their own army into two currently. Arrows were running out as were rocks, leaving little on their side as a repellent. Men climbing the ladders at a frightening speed and stepping onto the battlements.
Luckily, no ladders were near where he stood, meaning there was some time to prepare. Wiping his palms once more and cracking the bones in his wrists and fingers in anticipation. Red cloaks were being thrown off the edge or were being skewered like they were nought but juicy mutton chops. Hearing the Hound behind him demanding wine and not taking part whatsoever.
"Would you like me to get you some iced milk and raspberries too?"
"Eat shit, dwarf."
He rolled his eyes at the retort, now was not the time for insults.
"You are on the wrong side of the wall!"
"I lost half my men. The Blackwater is on fire- "
"Dog, I demand you to go back out there and fight!"
Gods, even in the middle of a battle his nephew was an insufferable piece of shit. The Hound taking another large gulp of wine as he stared directly at Joffrey behind him as he heard men getting closer to where they were stood. Knowing it wouldn't be long before he would be swinging his axe towards someone.
"You are of the Kingsguard, Clegane- "
"Fuck the Kingsguard. Fuck the city. Fuck the King."
And then he walked away. A mixture of fear and anger ebbing deep in his gut alongside shock. The Clegane's had always been loyal to his House and by extension to Joffrey as he was blood. Too much blood, not that Tyrion could say so aloud without shaming his House even further. Of all the things he expected, this was not one of them. His father was going to be furious. Turning around only to see even more boats rowing to shore. Gods, how many men did Stannis have? Grabbing one of the boats and turning it upside down above their heads to act as a makeshift shield as they ran towards the gate to force it open more and thus allowing a bigger opening for them to get into the city. More rocks fell as did the remaining arrows. Even more men climbing the ladders to get atop the wall.
"Your Grace! The Queen has sent me to take you back to the Red Keep."
Seven hells Cersei. Joffrey hadn't even so much as lifted his sword yet. He needed to be at the head of the battle as was expected of the King. She would hate for her precious boy to be known as the King who ran from the battle.
"If you won't defend your own city why should they?"
"What would you have me do?"
"Lead! Get down there and lead your people against the invaders that want to kill them!"
Joffrey turned to Lancel again and asked why he was being summoned. Unsurprisingly no reason was given.
"Ser Boros, Ser Mandon, stay with my uncle and represent the King on the field of battle."
What an idiot. Such a cowardly idiot. Considering he was all lion there was no bravery within him. Following Lancel down from the wall back into the castle heading for whatever shelter his sister was in. If she was still in one that is. Pod ran up now carrying two helmets, reaching one out to him which he took gratefully. Ignoring how it was too large to fit on his head as he was glad for the extra protection in this shit situation.
"I'll lead the attack!"
And he would. His voice not quivering once as he spoke and ignored the shouts of protect that a dwarf wouldn't do anything of significance. Giving the order only for the men to refuse it, some even rolling their eyes.
"They may say I am half a man, but what does that make you?! I know another entryway. We'll go through there and fuck them right in the arse."
Then he ran. The men giving one another looks but eventually agreeing there was nothing better to do if they had any hope at surviving until the sun rose above the horizon. Weaving through people with ease as he did so, hundreds of men following behind him as he entered the tunnel he'd found out about from Varys if this did indeed happen. Feet hitting water from where a stream from the bay entered and the sound of thundering feet echoing loudly alongside yells as the men prepared themselves for another attack. Entering the beach and as expected many of the opposing army were still climbing the walls and ramming the gate. Raising his axe and swinging towards three men who had their backs turned to him. Neither had time to react before they slumped to the ground. The sound of the armies clashing was music to his ears. Now, they had surrounded them leaving them little movements. Axe coming down and slashing more, blood spraying in his eyes from the opening of his helmet which blurred his vision but Tyrion didn't care about that right now. All he cared about was winning this damned battle.
"Half man! Half man! Half man!"
He removed his helmet and wiped the blood away, seeing they had succeeded in killing everyone on the beach and their army were cheering him on. Was this was gratitude felt like? A warm feeling enveloping him at finally being seen as someone who could make a change. Looking to the top of the wall where he had been stood beforehand to see Stannis' men were fighting and getting closer to the Red Keep as they went. This was immediately drowned out by the sound of footsteps. Hundreds of footsteps. And heading towards them. Turning his head and seeing another army heading their way.
"Oh fuck me."
They clashed again at this. Cursing himself for throwing his helmet away as now he wasn't as protected. Slicing people with his axe, chopping body parts off, slicing them in two. It didn't matter which way he swung the axe, just so long as who he swung it against died. The scent of death was beginning to make him feel ill, but he had to keep a brave face now. Especially as his vile nephew had run from the battle like the absolute coward he is. Someone running towards him and having no time to raise the axe only for Ser Mandon to run the man through with his own sword. Tyrion nodded his way in thanks but then he walked towards him. What was he doing? Eyes widening as he raised his sword and brought it down on his face. A spear piercing the Knight's face immediately and once the Knight fell, spotted Pod holding the spear in question. Running over and grabbing him as he desperately tried to keep conscious. Just before his sight blacked out, he could've sworn he saw another army with the sigil of a roaring golden lion.
Jaeron Targaryen
The Northern Camp at Ashemark, 300AC
Olyvar tightened his armour as he watched Ser Arthur and Ser Brynden putting their own on. The time had passed at a frightening pace but now it was here. Whilst he'd made many moves, this might just be the biggest move he has made yet. If he succeeds, he takes his ancestral home back, and is then in a fantastic position to take the city. Whilst many people had stated to do just that and put an end to the war already, Jaeron knew he could not do so. The war would not end until the Lannister's were dead alongside Stannis Baratheon. Then and only then would there be peace, and that was what he wanted.
So many of his ancestors had reigns that were not peaceful, and it almost always backfired. He was not going to be one of those who sat back and hoped things would rectify on their own. A foolish way to rule. Once his armour was tight and his swords were handed to him, fear began to seep in. He would not be going with an army. He was meeting up with an army which if their timing estimations were correct would be arriving in a matter of hours. Hoping silently that Rhaegon and Lyrax were fast enough to catch up to them. Whilst he would be away, Robb was taking over command of the army temporarily.
Anger blossomed deep within as he remembered the fight. Why did he do such a thing as promise a head of House something without running it by him first? It had ended in a massive argument in the camp which had only been calmed when Lyrax roared loudly. Rickard Karstark was giving him side eyes at every opportunity he got now, not even attempting to hide his distaste as were his remaining sons. Ordering a few hundred men to guard the makeshift cell so no one could get to the Kingslayer. But the wedge had been created, and now he had to mend it before it bit him hard in the arse. He'd worked so much for this already; he was not going to let it fail now.
"Lets go."
His Kingsguard followed dutifully behind. People staring at them as they did make quite the striking image. Ignoring all of it as they headed to the clearing and letting out a piercing whistle that he'd trained both his dragons to respond to back when he was living in Greywater Watch. A command that was coming in very useful. Saddle at the ready as they came down from the sky and working to fasten it to Rhaegon's back who was looking at the two Knight's curiously. Lyrax tilting her head forward to sniff before making a whining noise for them to pet her. Arthur was more comfortable doing so considering he'd been there when she was still a hatchling, but it was a little amusing seeing the terrified look in the Blackfish's eyes.
"She won't bite, Lyrax is friendly."
He looked to Arthur for clarification and he nodded to confirm, stating when she was still small she'd beg for belly tickles. Something Meera Reed was always pleased about. Steadily reaching a hand over as the blue dragon huffed before reaching over to nuzzle the hand in question. By now, the saddle was secure and he wasted no time in climbing up, Arthur carefully following behind- likely remembering the last time he had done this. Chains being tied around them as he instructed Brynden how best to climb up too. He was shaking in his armour, signalling just how terrified he was of this, but was given resolve when the Greatjon yelled a jape at his expense and secured himself. Both helping with the chains towards him too so there was no chance of either coming loose.
"SÅvegon."
Rhaegon let out a loud roar and a moment later they were high in the sky, having to force a laugh back at hearing the Blackfish yelp in utmost terror. But now was not the time to laugh at reactions, feeling the bond strong as it had always been when he was still only an egg. Turning southeast straight for Dragonstone and taking advantage of the numerous clouds there was to blend in. Urging him on as fast as he could go with Lyrax following closely behind. The entire time hearing Arthur mumbling curses under his breath which in most circumstances would've been amusing. The air hitting against them as they flew was bitingly cold, making his teeth chatter but on they pushed. Clouds and mist being all they could see for miles in all directions. He did not want to be seen, but if he couldn't see anything he had to come lower to figure out where they were. Dropping out of the clouds every now and then to glimpse the ground below. Flying over mossy fields, to fields covered in the brightest flowers there was, to farms. Passing a few towns too but they were far too small to be their destination. Staring straight ahead as massive walls came into his vision, knowing deep within where they were. Urging Rhaegon into the clouds again so they would not be seen and only once he was certain they were no longer above did he come below the clouds again.
His eyes widened in shock at what could only be described as carnage lay below. Dozens of ships burning and hundreds of bodies floating in the water. Had Stannis succeeded in taking the capital? At least he'd get an answer to that question relatively soon as he spotted the large island ahead, being distinguished amongst the mist surrounding the ground from the still active volcano. No turning back now. Dipping below the clouds and heading towards the castle from what he remembered of Dragonstone when they had sailed by it on the way back from Dorne to the Neck.
If only he could bloody see in front of him.
The mist was thicker the closer to the ground they got, but the closer they got the louder the commotion below was. Which meant one of two things. The Tyrell's succeeded in getting here on time, or Stannis had already gotten back. Groaning lightly to himself because there was no way to know which one it was yet. Spotting a single opening and seeing men wearing the colours of Stannis' new sigil, wasting no time in raining fire down on them before they had any chance to think twice or look his way. Moving to an empty section so his Kingsguard could jump off Rhaegon and join in on the fight as he was going to remain in the sky. He had to make an impression. He was the first dragon rider in more than one hundred years, the first person to hatch a dragon since Morning had hatched near the end of a civil war which tore his House in two. Something House Targaryen never fully recovered from. Watching as the two disappeared into the mist as he rose into the sky once again to search for the ships to see who it was that was fighting. Was it the Tyrell's fighting the little garrison Stannis left? Or was it the Tyrell's fighting any remaining army that survived the attack on Kings Landing? Flying towards the water and the sound of screams and metal hitting against metal disappearing. Spotting the Velaryon sigil which caused him to breathe a sigh of relief. This alongside the merman of House Manderly confirmed any survivors had not made their way back yet.
With this, he headed back towards the fighting, a massive weight lifting from his shoulders that they had gotten their timings right. The sound of the fighting had quietened massively when he got to where he had parted from Ser Arthur and Ser Brynden. Landing on the edge of the Dragonmont where the mist had cleared somewhat and could see some of Stannis' men throwing their swords down on the ground. This calmed him down because this meant at least some were deciding it was not worth it to fight. Slipping from Rhaegon's back and steadily walking down, carefully listening in as it was still difficult to see despite it clearing up a fair amount. The men he passed were not his own but all were giving him fearful looks from what they had witnessed. Soon, black hair with a streak of silver and purple eyes caught his attention. No words needing to be exchanged.
"Dragonstone is yours, my King."
Deep down, Jaeron knew they had succeeded as soon as he saw the swords being thrown, but hearing it said aloud was something else.
"Were there many casualties?"
"A little more than one hundred. Stannis left just over one thousand to hold the island."
He what? That little men to hold the island the Seat he was granted by his brother was on? He'd heard he despised Dragonstone, but not defending it adequately was stupid. Either stupid or he was wholly confident he would succeed in taking the capital.
"Has there been any sightings from ships coming back? If any are coming back that is?"
"None yet, but it shouldn't be long before we hear news from Kings Landing."
He nodded at this, walking closer to the castle until he was at the doors. Eyeing all the gargoyles and statues of sphinxes, griffins, dragons, and numerous other creatures he'd never heard of. Creatures that many theorised existed in Valyria before the Doom and were made extinct as a result. Fingers grazing over the black stone as he had never seen it up close before never mind touched it. Reaching out to open the doors and walking inside the castle so many of his ancestors had lived in. Going back almost four hundred years when Aenar had fled Valyria with his children, wives, and slaves.
The inside was terrifyingly dark, and the hallway echoed loudly the further in they walked. Noticing now that a few people were following him and that Ser Brynden was stood on his opposite side. Arthur seemed to know the castle well so he followed his lead until they were in what could only be the main hall. At the end there was a throne made completely out of black stone but with a sparkle of some other material on it too. Wondering to himself how long this had been here and just who had sat on it.
"It's made of a mixture of dragonglass and black stone, hence why it stands out so much. It's said to have been forged hundreds of years before the Doom but there are no records to confirm if this is the case."
That explained why it looked so different. Slowly walking over and staring at the craftsmanship. Carvings so small and intricate and wondering what they meant as it seemed to be written in glyphs of some form. He'd read when he was younger that Valyrian's had once written in glyphs but the knowledge of such was long lost to history now. Perhaps one day he would be able to find someone who could still read them to find out what they said.
"Your Grace, the Tyrell's are here."
Suddenly he remembered the agreement, gulping loudly before ordering the man who spoke to leave. Hands immediately sweating at the prospect. He'd talked about allying with House Tyrell by marriage but had been too late, yet now? It was happening. Behind those doors stood the woman he had promised Lord Mace he would wed should they succeed as a reward for proving they were serious in backing his claim. Catelyn's words echoing in his mind. From the little she spoke of Margaery Tyrell; she had seemed to impress his aunt. The doors opening a moment later as he forced his face to remain ominously still like Howland had taught him seemingly forever ago. A few guards walking in first followed by Lord Mace and who could only be Lady Alerie. Lady Olenna not far behind alongside Ser Willas. Two younger men behind him who could only be his brothers. Finally, she walked forward. Long brown hair partially braided to keep it away from her face, a delicate heart-shaped face, alongside wearing a dress that left little to the imagination. Whilst the method may work for many, it wouldn't work for him.
"Your Grace."
Even now, it was still strange to be referred to as that. Although, he was beginning to get used to it. He was going to need to do so at some point.
"I believe congratulations are in order for the success of the mission, my Lord."
Lord Mace's chest immediately puffed up at the compliment, thinking to himself he really did look like an overgrown peacock. Whenever his uncle had stated he disliked this about the south when he had fostered in the Eyrie, he had believed it to be false. The more time he was spending in the south however was proving that like always, he had just said things as they were. Northerner's didn't dance around with flowery words and actions. There was no need for it.
"I hope you did not suffer many casualties?"
"A few hundred at most."
At least they'd kept that part of the deal. After he had attacked Harrenhal and the sheer disgust he had felt afterwards at what he had done, Jaeron had decided if there didn't need to be more deaths than necessary, he would do what he could to ensure this.
"The men that were with Lord Stannis have knelt?"
Lord Willas nodded to confirm this was indeed the case. A warm feeling beginning to blossom within and this was confirmed by Rhaegon flying straight passed the windows. Silver scales reflecting sunlight into the main hall as Lady Alerie desperately tried to not show surprise. Margaery walked forward a little now, blushing slightly as she got closer. She wasn't much shorter than he was and now that she was close to him he could smell something fruity on her. Not a scent he recognised but it must've been a southern thing.
"I pray I am not a disappointment, your Grace."
No, she most definitely was not. Smiling lightly towards her and lifting her hand to kiss the back of it softly.
"Ser Brynden, kindly ask a servant to arrange rooms for our guests. Ser Arthur, head to the kitchens and let them know we shall have a feast in celebration of the victory."