Save the Dragons
F.Y.I: So this chapter was way longer than I expected it, I just love Rhaenyra so much that her fluff comes naturally. I hope you guys like the quick update again.
Chapter 8 – Three Daughters with One Stone
Rhaenyra
Lying alone in her bed, she was missing the company of her husband, the love of her life.
Laenor had been gone for some time, and his loss was dearly felt. She did not know how much longer she could wait for word of him before mounting her dragon and flying to the Stepstones herself. Her husband had gone off to war and like many a wife, she laid awake in bed wondering if he would ever return.
She longed for the days when it was just her, him, and the children together frolicking in Aegon's Garden.
Rhaenyra tossed and turned in her bed, longing for the cold beside her to warm. She shouldn't have sent the children away for the night, it was now so lonely without them.
Eventually, after a great deal of effort, she finally stopped worrying and faded off to sleep...
"Well I stumbled in the darkness, I'm lost and alone."
The voice was one she immediately recognized as Laenor's.
"Though I said I'd go before us, and show the way back home."
She spied him sitting atop the Iron Throne, strumming his harp as she entered the throne room.
"There a light up ahead, I can't hold onto her arm."
He looked exactly as she remembered him, ever handsome with his silver hair and violet eyes, gazing down at her with a roguish smile. He was in more detail than any dream she could ever recall.
"Forgive me pretty baby but I always take the long home."
Rhaenyra danced even as the harp continued to play as Laenor began his descent. The ceiling of the Red Keep disappeared into a mass of stars.
Soon Laenor had swept her into an embrace and they danced together under the pale moonlight.
"If this is a dream, I hope to never wake," she whispered.
"I can be with you even in your dreams, my love," Laenor told her. "The higher mysteries can keep us together even when I'm half the world away, fighting in the Stepstones."
Rhaenyra was taken aback, "Truly? You're really here with me?"
"I'm in the cabin of the Wind Wyrm bent over a glass candle and taking a voyage in your dreams," Laenor explained.
That was classic Laenor.
She pressed her head into his chest, "I've missed you so."
"I've missed you as well, I wish I could spend all my days with the candle and I long to return to you."
"Then turn your ship around and come back to me."
"Soon. One day soon I'll be back in your arms for real. I've sent you a letter with my sister as well, I hope you like it."
"You know I love everything you write me."
Laenor chuckled, "I know you do."
"How are the children?" he asked her.
Rhaenyra frowned, "They are well but for want of their father."
"It pains me to be apart from them," Laenor said, "but it is for their future I'm fighting."
The dreamworld around her morphed and the two of them were on a ship, she watched as Vermax's corpse sank into the sea, and Jace's body was filled with quarrels.
"You're cruel to show me this, ser," Rhaenyra cried.
"I am sorry, my love, it's what I see when I think of the Triarchy, it's difficult to control where the dream goes."
Was this the hellish nightmare that wracked her husband at night?
They were huddling back together under the old oak tree in the Red Keep's godswood, and Laenor assured her that once he was done in the Stepstones, there would be no Triarchy ships to kill their son.
The two of them stayed just like that for a while, with Laenor rubbing her back as she laid her head in his lap.
"Do you remember that day we went skinny dipping in the Blackwater?" Laenor asked with a wry smile, and they were back in the river raging, naked, with Laenor trailing kisses up and down her neck.
"Or our trip to Braavos?"
This time they were on a ship as they sailed under the booming Titan.
Waves engulfed them and they were back on Dragonstone, atop Gaemon's Tower, surrounded by stone dragons and gargoyles.
"Is there something you'd like to see? Anything you can imagine, I can bring to life in your dreams," Laenor offered her an extraordinary gift.
"My mother..." came Rhaenyra's answer.
Laenor gave her a sad smile, and Dragonstone shifted back to the Red Keep and Aemma Arryn was facing her with a bright smile on her face.
Rhaenyra wrapped her arms around the apparition who returned the embrace tightly. It had been many years since she'd been on the receiving end of one of her mother's hugs. Too long.
"I'm so proud of you, sweetling..." Mother murmured into her ear, and Rhaenyra sobbed.
Aemma hushed her daughter soothingly.
"I'm sorry I never said goodbye!" Rhaenyra apologized, collapsing to her knees. Her mother sank to the floor with her.
"Shhh, sweetling, it's alright, I love you."
"I love you, mother."
Mother and daughter spoke for what seemed like hours, Rhaenyra telling Aemma all about her grandchildren and how she fared in her marriage. How Elaena looked just like her, that Jace did the same thing with his fork that she used to do, that Laenor was a good husband and treated her well.
Eventually, her mother began to fade away, and Rhaenyra cried out for her not to leave her.
"I am always with you, Rhaenyra," Aemma said and blurred away with the breeze.
Tears fell down Rhaenyra's cheeks as Laenor held her in his arms.
"I have to part with you now, my love," Laenor said as he escaped her grasp.
"Until the next time I visit you."
"Goodbye, my love," Rhaenyra bid him goodbye, "come back soon. And thank you."
Laenor gave her a deep bow, and he too was gone with a breeze.
With that, Rhaenyra woke from her slumber, in her bed, all alone.
She didn't know if it had been magic or simply her mind playing tricks on her, but it had felt so real. She would have to ask Laenor when next they were together.
Still, she was glad.
"Muna! Time to wake up!" Aemon burst into her room shouting boisterously.
"I'm up, sweetling, worry not," Rhaenyra assured and rose from her bed, ready to start her day.
She already looked forward to the night though, and the sweet dreams that awaited her...
Rhaenyra was in her drawing room, attending to matters of state, finally returning to her duties as Princess of Dragonstone now that she'd recovered from her pregnancy. Ellie was with her wet nurse, and Luke was with Elinda. Aemon and Jace were both attending their lessons in the yard, that or causing mischief somewhere.
Maester Geradys handed her a letter, a thank-you note from Lord Bar Emmono for having sent Princess Rhaenys on Meleys to Sharp Point to settle the succession crisis there. She was pleased to write back that it was their pleasure to support their faithful vassal in his time of need and invited him to their next feast.
"Lord Celtigar has written petitioning you for your help in gaining suzerainty over Cracklaw Point," Maester Geradys explained, passing her another letter to that effect.
Rhaenyra took it and threw it into the fire, "Did not Laenor tell Lord Bartimos to make his appeals to the king, as I am not overlord of Cracklaw Point myself?"
Her maester looked abashed, "Indeed, I believe he did, Your Grace."
"Then why is he troubling me again with this matter?"
"Mayhaps Lord Celtigar thinks you may have a more favourable disposition than Prince Laenor."
Rhaenyra snorted, her lords thought her soft-hearted compared to her husband when in truth it was Laenor who was more like to show them kindness out of the goodness of his heart, "You may write back to Bartimos and remind him that my husband and I are of one mind as well as one soul. Now and forever."
"Of course, Your Grace, but perhaps we should use more flowery words to soothe the rejection's bite somewhat?" Geradys suggested.
She sighed, "So be it. Have the letter smell of roses as long as you remind Lord Celtigar of his place."
"Muna! Muna!" Aemon and Jace thundered into her rooms.
"What? What?" she asked of her sons as they crowded her, "Shouldn't you two be in your lessons."
"Aunt Laena and Uncle Daemon are in the sky!" Aemon exclaimed.
"They've come for a visit!" Jace echoed his older brother.
"Ah, we must go greet them, should we not?" she asked slyly. Her boys nodded enthusiastically.
Rhaenyra was always pleased to see her sister-in-law, even if she liked seeing Laena's husband less.
Since they'd married, Laenor had told her of his dreams of Daemon. How he laid with other women and killed men for sport. How her uncle had killed his last wife already, but in the future would orchestrate her husband's murder through a patsy and order Aegon's son to be beheaded.
To say she was weary of the man now was an understatement.
Vhagar and Caraxes landed, it seemed they had brought the twins, Baela and Rhaena with them to her sons' delight.
"Baela! Rhaena! We're down here!" Jace shouted to his cousins, and the olive-scaled Vermax let loose a little roar from his place on her son's shoulder. Tyraxes was going wild in a loopy-deloop next to Aemon.
"Hi Jace!" the girls echoed as one and giggled.
The children were soon reunited and ran off to play in Aegon's under the watchful eye of Ser Erryk.
"Sister," greeted Laena warmly as they kissed each other on the cheek, "we hope we find you well."
"I am doing fair enough, though Laenor's absence is hard," Rhaenyra answered.
"If I had a wife like you waiting at home for me, I wouldn't be wasting my time in the Stepstones," Daemon quipped, and she watched Laena smile contritely.
"You're too kind," Rhaenyra said dryly.
"My brother has written you a letter," Laena said, and Rhaenyra was convinced that her dream had been magic. That or she was beginning to have premonitions herself.
Laena reached through her riding breeches, pulled out a worn letter, and handed it to her.
Rhaenyra wanted to tear it open and read it there and then, but propriety saw her lead her guests away to be freshened up from the flight.
Daemon brushed a hand over her shoulder and a shiver went down her spine.
She disentangled from him and made for her rooms to read Laenor's letter.
Rhaenyra nearly broke into a sprint after departing from Laena and Daemon's company, so eager she was to return to her rooms.
As she burst through the door, she tore the envelope open and began to read the letter's contents. 'My dearest friend...'
She swooned at his romantic nature, she sobbed at the mentions of his possible death, and she raged at the Triarchy.
It took everything within her not to mount Vermithor and fly to reduce the Three Daughters to ash.
He begged forgiveness for the pain he'd caused her and she only wished that he would remedy the pain in her heart by returning to her.
She frowned at the mention of her fleeing to the Summer Isles in the event of his death, did he truly have such a lack of faith in her? But somehow she understood it too, he'd seen her death after his, and their sons'. Laenor loved her and their children more than he loved the idea of Aemon on the throne.
'Rhaenyra, my love for you is deathless'.
She could not bear it anymore, she missed him too much. She fetched a quill and paper and began to write herself.
"My dearest friend,
As your princess, I forbid you to die. I do not have your way with words but know that my feelings for you are no less as strong as yours for me, and as such expect absolute obedience in this regard.
It is only for the love of our children that I can tolerate your duty coming before our love.
Do not mistake me, ser, when I say I have no intentions of fleeing to the Summer Isles should you... I shan't even dignify it but know that I am made of sterner stuff.
The children are well, though they miss you dearly. Ellie is already growing like a weed. Aemon looks more and more like his father with each passing day. Jace eagerly awaits the day Vermax is large enough to ride so that he can join you on your adventures, and Luke said his first word not two days ago. 'Muna', it seems I have won again.
Know that I love you more than life itself, and remain your devoted wife, forever, whatever may come. Also rest assured that I have every confidence in you, that your cause is just, and that you are more than suited to the task before you.
I know you will not perish in the Stepstones, that we will grow old together, that we will see our sons become honourable men and our daughter blossom into a great beauty. I am as certain of it as the sun setting in the sky.
Return to me soon, my love. My bed is cold without you in it.
I expect you in my dreams, where I will reward your lovely letter with my affections.
Forever yours,
Rhaenyra"
She set the quill down and her tears joined the ink on the paper.
Rhaenyra went to dinner and handed Laena the letter, who gave her a queer look. "Please deliver this to Laenor when you next fly south."
"I will, Your Grace."
Rhaenyra wondered if her sister-in-law would do so in truth. She was jealous of her brother's affections. Why else would she spend their wedding day glaring daggers at her?
Laenor did not, in fact, know everything after all.
But that was fine, that's why they made such a formidable team. They complimented each other.
Corlys
Watching his son on the forecastle of the Wind Wyrm, Corlys was sure no father had ever been prouder of his son.
He'd wed the king's heir, he wielded the Conqueror's sword like only a great warrior could, and given Corlys three strong grandsons and a beautiful granddaughter.
Yes, his son had no rival in the annals of Westeros.
He would be a more than worthy Lord of the Tides one day, a worthy king...
These dragonships had been Laenor's idea, as had the plethora of inventions now produced on Driftmark, and now his son was commanding them into battle.
Laenor had never been to war before, but as Prince-Consort of Dragonstone he was Corlys's liege lord, and as such assumed command of the fleet of a dozen dragonships, while his own dragon remained back on Dragonstone.
Silverwing, Meleys, Caraxes, and Vhagar all would not be accompanying them on this voyage. There twelve ships were meant to be bait, a poisonous morsel for the Triarchy to swallow.
Though his son had no direct experience with war, he was a student of the craft, having been raised on Ayrmidon's 'Engines of War' and tutored on the subject by Corlys himself. Laenor was nothing if not an adept student and even wrote his own treatise on the subject called 'The Art of War'.
His son had healed the king of his hidden illness and earned the promise that had seen the Seven Kingdoms enter the war in earnest when Laenor finally joined it. The ironborn fleet was given the role of privateering, reaving Dorne and what had been the Disputed Lands. The Redwyne Fleet would be ferrying levies from the Stormlands onto the islands to root out the Triarchy's corsairs, while the Velaryon and Royal fleets patrolled the Narrow Sea.
Such overwhelming might was sure to bring the Triarchy to heel eventually, but first, they had to destroy the Triarchy fleet in a pitched battle.
Captain-general Racallio Ryndoon had been waging a war of terror against them, raiding and pillaging the Stepstones then disappearing back into the sea. The years since Daemon had abandoned his conquest to go gallivanting around the Free Cities had given the glorified pirate much leeway, but now his time had come.
They'd spread word that Prince Laenor was headed south to Bloodstone to lead the war effort personally, and Laenor was certain that Ryndoon had gathered his strength in force for once and was heading to intercept them, to capture what he thought was a trifling number of ships, unprotected by dragons.
It had been why they'd retaken Bloodstone first, to show that the fiery, flying beasts were nowhere on the Stepstones or else the Triarchy fleet and the Dornish soldiers would scatter like jacks once more.
In truth, the Velaryons meant to bathe the Triarchy ships in another kind of fire. Wildfire.
Corlys' genius son, which he took so much pride in for having overseen his education, had ingeniously created a wildfire extinguisher that allowed their dragonships the ability to use wildfire projectiles without fearing their own ships would burn down.
He was an experienced sailor, Corlys knew that if the dragonships worked they would change the face of naval warfare and ensure Velaryon control of the tides for a century to come. Already they were the biggest, fastest ships he'd ever sailed on, soon they would be proved the most dangerous to fight against.
Laenor had seen it in one of his dreams...
Now, night had come and the sea was calm, with only a slight breeze driving them forward. Laenor had been right of course, the dragonships miraculous sail configuration did allow them to sail against the wind. Thankfully, the wind was with them tonight and soon, Laenor assured them, they would make contact with the enemy.
Corlys watched Laenor climb like a lemur up to the crow's nest, and look out on the horizon with a far-eye.
"Ships in the distance! The Triarchy fleet! Beat to quarters, men!" Laenor bellowed from on high, and the sailors went to work.
Soon wax jars of wildfire were being carried onto the deck, as the men outfitted themselves in their light armour. Flagmen on deck signalled to the rest of the fleet to go to battle stations.
Laenor slid down the rigging and joined his father near the ship's wheel.
He unsheathed his Valyrian Steel sword and began shouting orders to the crew to hold fast.
The Wind Wyrm would take point as the fleet spread out in a wedge formation.
It was some time before the ships appeared on the horizon to the naked eye, sailing at full speed towards them.
The corsair ships were beating their drums something fierce, their horns blowing louder and longer. Soon the sound of screaming and clashing of weapons to shields rang out on the wind.
They meant to envelope their fleet in an encirclement, and Laenor meant to let them as it would increase the number of ships in range.
Corlys was not worried as he placed a hand on his son's shoulder. They have taken the bait, now, the hard part.
Though he is relieved, his crew is not, nor any other crew in the Velaryon fleet, they're all silent. Many are scared, others know what's coming, perhaps this is how the corsairs strike such fear. He can see it on the men's faces, they're afraid; the howling from the Triarchy is like a horde of angry demons descending on them to drag them all to hell.
Their sailors did not have the same confidence in Laenor's invention as Corlys did. They could only see that they were outnumbered at least nine to one.
This would not do.
Corlys turned Laenor to face him, "The men are scared." he said.
Laenor looked perplexed but nodded stiffly. "When the enemy is making a mistake, don't interrupt him," his son quipped.
"You are their commander, it is on you to raise their spirits."
"How am I supposed to do-" a look of realization came across his son's face, and he sheathed his sword and walked to the forecastle.
With every bit of air in his lungs, he bellowed out to the sea.
"SALLY STONE, IS THE GIRL FOR ME BOYS!" The men on board all look at him like he has gone mad, and the other ships' crews all share a similar look, it did nil to deter him though." His son's voice carried over the gale, reaching out to every sailor in the armada with a tone of cheerfulness that had no real place on a battlefield.
"SALLY STONE, IS THE GIRL FOR ME BOY!" It seemed to be working, the men had already stopped worrying about the enemy's jeers, granted they were gawking at Laenor, but it was a start, so he kept at it.
"IT'S UP TO GULLTOWN TO SEE SALLY STONE BOYS!" Corlys realized what he was doing and shouted out "Roll Boys, Roll boys roll!"
"UP TO GULLTOWN TO SEE SALLY STONE BOYS!" Some of the more seasoned sailors joined in this time "Way high, Miss Sally Stone!"
"SHE'S LOVELY ON THE FOREYARD, AN' SHE'S LOVELY DOWN BELOW BOYS!" The men who know the tune, the veterans aboard the Wind Wyrm and a few on the Princess Rhaenys' Revenge and even more on the Moondancer scream out "Roll Boys, Roll Boys Roll!"
"SHE'S LOVELY 'CAUSE SHE LOVES ME, THAT'S ALL I WANT TO KNOW BOYS!" This time as his voice found every ship, he heard several familiar voices including the captains of the Princess Rhaenyra, the Seahorse, and the Hippocampus "Way High, Miss Sally Stone!"
"OL' CAPTAIN ARRYN, HOW DO YOU STORE YER CARGO!" Now men on every ship were chanting along with him "Roll Boys, Roll Boys Roll!"
"SOME I STOW FOR'ARD, AN' SOME I STOW A'TER!" As more and more marines started singing, no one noticed that the corsairs' shouting had begun to be drowned out "Way High, Miss Sally Stone!"
"FORTY FATHOMS OR MORE BELOW BOYS!" His fleet's drummers start up again, the wind picks up as the fleet is on a collision course with the enemy and closing in fast. "ROLL BOYS, ROLL BOYS ROLL."
"THERE'S FORTY FATHOMS OR MORE BELOW BOYS!" Laenor has to resort to screaming, as he begins to lose his voice "WAY HIGH, MISS SALLY STONE!"
"OH, WAY HIGH YA, AN' UP SHE RISES!" The captains of the other ships began to start ordering any holdouts, his fleet was blotting out the Triarchy's. They were close enough that he would soon have to give the order to begin the battle "ROLL BOYS, ROLL BOYS ROLL!"
"WAY HIGH YA AND THE BLOCKS IS DIFFERENT SIZES!" Corlys sees the corsair fleet closing in, soon... "WAY HIGH, MISS SALLY STONE!"
This time Laenor shouts out but his voice is going "OH! ONE MORE PULL, DON'T YA HEAR THE MATE A-BAWLIN?!" The whole of the fleet is with him, no signs of the fear that had struck them from the idea of fighting numerically superior forces, "ROLL BOYS, ROLL BOYS ROLL!"
Having heard his voice weakening from trying to out yell a storm of swords, several officers start "OH! ONE MORE PULL, THAT'S THE END OF ALL THE HAWLIN,'!" Laenor puts on his helmet again, draws his sword, and watches as the corsair near his scorpions' range "WAY HIGH, MISS SALLY STONE!"
Laenor starts to give orders "Alright boys! A thousand gold dragons to the man who burns five ships! Aim for their sails! Archers nock! Marines draw your swords; make peace with your gods!"
The Triarchy ships were almost in range, as his ships kept the chant up without him "SALLY STONE'S THE GIRL FOR ME!" closer and closer, they were almost here, and he could see the corsairs on their galleys.
"ROLL BOYS, ROLL BOYS ROLL!"
"READY THE JARS!" Laenor shouted, and the men using the scorpions loaded up the shots of wildfire.
"SALLY STONE, IS THE GIRL FOR ME BOYS!"
"TAKE AIM!"
One last great shout of "WAY HIGH, MISS SALLY STONE!"
'Here it is'...
"FIRE!" Laenor bellows, and the scorpions start pouring it on the galleys and it is truly terrifying – the unholy fire taking hold of their ships, lighting the dark sea with near blinding green.
His men fire the scorpions, shot after shot. Nearly every time it hits with a different ship going up in flames, not enough to sink it immediately, but it does the job of burning their sails, breaking their morale, and killing as many as possible before they abandon ship.
The moon's reflection on the ocean had turned a sickly green.
Their fleet cut through the corsairs like a hot knife through butter, scorching every ship in their path.
A jar of wildfire dropped and burst into flames on the deck, Corlys was quick to order the crew to put it out with the extinguishers and it worked like a charm, dosing the flames as soon as the foam hit. It must have worked on the other ships as well as none of theirs went up in smoke.
One corsair captain must've been particularly mad, and made straight for the Wind Wyrm, salis burning and all. It was an enormous four-decked galley flying the Triarchy flag, what could only be their flagship.
As it approached, Laenor was undeterred as he ordered, "Siphons! Make ready!"
The sailors on deck obeyed, and the ship's siphons were soon in place.
"Fire!" came the command and liquid fire spewed forth some thirty feet out at the approaching vessel. It did not stop the ram's momentum, but the corsair marines ready to board were either consumed by the flames or leaped into the sea.
"Crossbowmen!" his ship had a contingent of the deadly skirmishers on board, his ship was much bigger than the corsairs' after all, so he could rain down bolts on them, "Loose!" a dozen of the corsairs remaining on the Triarchy ship dropped dead.
The galley collided with the Wind Wyrm, but the hull remained intact even after taking the brunt of it, likely because the rowers on the flagship had fled and the ship couldn't reach ramming speed, and the extinguishers were quick to put out any fire that could touch the copper plating of their ship.
Soon, the crossbowmen and marines had the flagship surrendering as it started to sink.
In the distance, Corlys spotted one of their dragonships being boarded by three separate galleys that had fired grapnels into its hull. The siphons had ignited the galleys, but it seemed one of their own ships would sink with them. Gods be with the poor souls on board.
Still, as the Triarchy flagship floundered, white flags of surrender started popping up across the Triarchy fleet while other corsairs began to flee only to be pursued and burnt by the much faster dragonships.
It had been the shortest battle of Corlys' long career, but he had won.
Thankfully, they would rescue most of their men floating in the sea and even take quite the corsair hostage.
Corlys ran to Laenor and embraced his son, congratulating him on their victory.
His son's violet eyes did not turn to look out at him, instead, he was staring out on the green sea, the reflection of wildfire clear in his eyes.
As the cheering of their men subsided, all that could be heard on the wind were the agonized screams of the dying, burning, and drowning.
"What is wrong, my son?" he asked worriedly.
"Now I am become Death, destroyer of worlds," Laenor rasped and let loose a sob, no doubt feeling responsible for the carnage.
Corlys brought his hand up and slapped his son on the face, hard. "Think not of the enemy, look to your crew and see the men you've saved."
Laenor broke out of his stupor and ordered a wine skin of Arbor Gold to be brought to him before drinking greedily.
The father watched his son, and Corlys could only pray that his kindhearted son was not lost to grief.
Racallio Ryndoon was found as flotsam among the wreckage of his fleet and brought before Laenor in chains, drenched from head to toe.
"So, this is the man who's caused us so much trouble these last few years," Laenor said of him.
"Not so much trouble, Your Grace," laughed Ryndoon. "You just did away with my fleet easily enough."
"That I did," Laenor stated, and why not? This would be writ large in history. The Battle off of Bloodstone would echo through the ages as the day warfare changed forever.
"What should I do with you, Ryndoon?" asked Laenor.
"Lop off his head and be done with it," Corlys answered.
Ryndoon only smiled, "You may do as you wish, you are the victor. But you will find my head quite less useful when separated from my body, when you could have made use of all of me," the Captain-general winked.
"And how would I make use of you?"
"I will be your man, Your Grace. From this day until the end of days."
"And why should I trust a turncloak?"
"It's not I who turned my cloak, but the Triarchy, if I were to return to Tyrosh or Lys or Myr, I would be executed most gruesomely for my failure."
"I see."
"Send him back to the Triarchy in pieces, Laenor, it would send them a message," Corlys argued.
Laenor grimaced, "I have already sent a message by destroying their fleet. I have proven my strength, now it is time to prove I can be magnanimous in victory."
Ryndoon smiled and Laenor pulled him to his feet, "Enough blood has been spilled this day."
"Your Grace is a great man, the most fearsome and beautiful specimen this one has ever laid eyes upon."
Laenor gave a dark chuckle, "Never give me cause to regret this, Racallio."
Corlys didn't like it, Corlys wanted his head on a platter. But Laenor was in command, and so he obeyed and had the former Captain-general unfettered.
Ryndoon blew him a kiss.
Not long after the dragonships had smashed the Triarchy fleet, the Velaryon fleet descended on Tyrosh and began to blockade the island city. Both ports were blocked off and they began to starve out the city. It was only a matter of time before they surrendered. There would be no reinforcements and even if there were, they would simply burn them. The remnants of Tyrosh's fleet had been captured as well.
Soon, his wife and daughter appeared on dragonback with Silverwing in tow.
Currently, Vhagar and Meleys were circling above the city like vultures over carrion, and well they should.
The Archon of Tyrosh came forth to meet them for a parley.
"What is the meaning of this?" demanded the Archon with his guards drawing their swords, as Laenor happened to be feeding Silverwing an aurochs at the time. The mighty beast swallowed the livestock whole and ripped its innards to pieces within his terrifying maw.
The Velaryon guards did not move as a single word from Laenor would see Silverwing incinerate their counterparts.
"I'm simply feeding my pet here, Archon, no need to worry, you're safe as long as I am near."
The Archon hesitantly nodded. He was a burly man with a thick purple beard and orange hair, dyed as was the Tyroshi custom.
"Tell me, Archon, are you familiar with Harren the Black's fate or the Field of Fire by chance?" Laenor asked.
Eyeing Silverwing wearily, the Archon nodded again.
"Good, saves me a great deal of explanation, suffice to say House Targaryen's enemies were dealt fire and blood. So, I'm going to offer you a choice, an easy one I should I think; an ultimatum. Either I melt your city, burn the Lyseni and Myrish ports, reduce the Bleeding Tower, the Fountain of the Drunken God, and the Temple of Trios to molten slag or you lay down your arms, open the gates, and surrender the city to me."
"Such insolence! The Triarchy is not defeated! We will shoot your dragons out of the sky and see your sister and mother sold as bed slaves-"
Silverwing unleashed a deafening roar that shook the very earth around them and silenced the Archon. In the sky, Vhagar and Meleys echoed the roar with screams of their own.
"As I said, Archon, it's a simple choice. Any way you want it."
"I would sooner die than be the Archon that lost Tyrosh."
"Then you'll soon be dead," Laenor said with a genuine frown.
The Archon scoffed and took his leave.
"A proud man, a brave man, a dead man," Corlys said of him.
"Let's hope so, or the city will suffer for his pride."
That night, Silverwing took to the sky, and Laenor joined his mother and sister, giving the Tyroshi no peace throughout the night.
The next morning, a party made up of members of the Tyroshi Conclave arrived, informing them of the late Archon's assassination and offering terms of surrender. In exchange for not burning down their city, lifting the blockade, and not sacking the city, the gates would be opened to their troops.
Laenor accepted their offer graciously.
With one fell swoop, he had become the Conqueror of Tyrosh, the Jewel of the Stepstones.
He only hoped they could hold it.
Always love to hear what you guys have to think, so please leave a review, the longer the better. If you have any questions or ideas, ask away, I try to answer them all whenever I get the chance, so check your Inbox eventually and I'll be sure to get back to you.
Let me know if you think Laenor should take Lys as well. That is where the early conquests would stop though, the island Free Cities without their fleets are simply too vulnerable to House Velaryon's strength at sea and are ripe for conquest.
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Poll: Should Laena get with Laenor? So, there's been a lot of controversy around this, with some people really wanting it, most people so far voting for her to be his second wife while around 20% being against it, and some people saying it would ruin the story. I'm very interested in hearing what you guys think about it. I could go either way at this point.
I do not understand why the war against the Triarchy took so long beyond plot armour for the opposition. For some reason, the Targaryens decided to use their dragons less than America did with the nuclear monopoly. I get why they're not used in the Dance too much, because the other side has dragons too, so mutually assured destruction and all that, and on home soil no less. But what exactly stopped Daemon, Rhaenys, Laenor, and Laena from threatening to use their dragons against the Triarchy? It's not like Dorne where you can flee into the desert. They're city-states. It'd be like France surrendering to the Nazis to spare Paris except if France was Paris.
I don't think it really makes sense the Free Cities were free in this period anyway, except maybe Braavos. Pentos is less than a week's voyage by sea away from King's Landing, the Iron Islands and the North are way more isolated. GRRM just likes the number seven, I think.