The Riverlands ― Harrenhal…
Aemond One-Eye gathered his comrades and mobilized his forces, intending to retake Harrenhal from the Blacks. Accompanied by Ser Criston, who marched forth with his troops on the ground, Aemond took to the skies on the back of Vhagar, determined to bring the fight to his uncle, Prince Daemon, and his older half-brother, King Aeonar. Aemond regarded the two as the greatest threats to the Caltrops and was prepared to face them head-on. With planned strikes in the Riverlands from the east and west ending in failure the previous year, Aemond was confident Vhagar would overcome Caraxes and slay Vaelor, and he would return with Daemon's and Aeonar's heads.
However, not all members of the Orange Council supported the prince's bold move. While Aemond had the backing of Ser Criston Cole, the Hand of the King for the Caltrops, Grand Maester Orwyle advised him to seek the aid of House Baratheon from Storm's End before taking action. Lord Jasper Wylde, known as the Ironrod, also warned that having two dragons on their side would be more advantageous before heading to battle in the Stormlands. Despite the counsel of his grandfather, Lord Unwin, who advocated for patience and urged his grandson to wait so they might join the attack, Aemond was not willing to wait. He dismissed those who hesitated, claiming he did not need anyone who hesitated or showed signs of weakness; Aegon was too badly hurt and missing. Aye, Caraxes was a fearsome beast, savage, cunning, and battle-tested; Vaelor was one of the largest dragons in the realm, intelligent, fast, and ferocious… but Vhagar was the oldest, fiercer, and most experienced of the Targaryen dragons, was considered the most powerful, having been part of the original trio that conquered Westeros.
True to his resolve, Aemond rode forth within a fortnight at the head of a host 4,000 strong. "Sixteen days' march to Harrenhal," he proclaimed. "On the seventeenth, we will feast inside Black Harren's hall while my uncle's head looks down from my spear."
However, after nineteen days on the march, the Caltrops found the gates of Harrenhal open with Daemon and his men gone.
"Hmm… where is he?" As Aemond trudged along the castle grounds, his mind was abuzz with thoughts about his missing uncle. He couldn't shake off the unease that had settled in his gut. He scanned the area keenly, searching for any sign of Daemon or the Blacks who had once seized control of Harrenhal when the Dance of the Dragons had started more than a year ago. But the castle was eerily quiet, and there was no trace of the people he sought. This has to be some ploy. Harrenhal is entirely deserted… Aemond's frustration grew as he realized he was no closer to finding his sought-after answers.
"Where is everyone?"
"I thought there'd be a garrison here…"
"This place looks completely abandoned."
Some of the men looked around the courtyard; others looked up at the sky, searching for any signs of dragons. They had expected Daemon to fly in on Caraxes to attack them, but the Rogue Prince or the Blood Wyrm were nowhere to be seen.
"Huh, maybe his river scum had fled rather than face our wroth…"
"Doubt it."
Aemond, standing with his arms held firmly behind his back, couldn't help but feel a sense of suspicion creeping in. Nevertheless, since House Strong's garrison had willingly surrendered the castle to Daemon during the initial stages of the war, he wasted no time swiftly administering the appropriate punishment. "Bring them forward," he ordered.
Criston Cole instructed his men to bring forth the imprisoned Ser Simon Strong, a few of his grandsons, and what was left of his men. "It seems that these lot are only a fraction of the garrison assigned to guard the castle," he observed. "Ser Simon Strong, castellan of Harrenhal, great-uncle to Lord Larys Strong. He was tasked with holding Harrenhal but, under interrogation, confessed he surrendered the castle to the Blacks when Prince Daemon and his dragon landed on the Kingspyre Tower. Upon our arrival, however, some of his men had already been taken to King's Landing. What was left of the garrison was also scheduled to be sent out, but it seems Daemon had other ideas and kept Ser Simon in a cell with a message."
"What message?"
Criston presented Aemond with a letter, the wax seal barely keeping it intact. The wax seal, once pristine, was now cracked and barely holding the parchment together. Aemond's lone eye narrowed as he broke the seal, his anticipation growing with each passing moment. Unfolding the parchment, his gaze scanned the words that lay before him. The message, written in his uncle's unmistakable hand, was directed solely at him. It revealed that Daemon had already anticipated their plan to march on Harrenhal, a bold move to reclaim the ancient stronghold.
But, to their dismay, they were too late.
Aemond's grip tightened around the parchment as he read on. The message dripped with sarcasm, mocking his nephew's lack of experience in such a daring maneuver. It highlighted his arrogance, mistaking it for confidence and refusal to ask for help. It was a scathing indictment of his poor decision-making, one that left their own lands defenseless and vulnerable to the Blacks' counteroffensive.
Ever the cunning strategist and experienced combat veteran, Daemon had coordinated with his grandnephew/son-in-law, Prince Jaehaerys, and his siblings. Together, the Rogue Prince had depleted Harrenhal's supplies and coffers before taking flight on his dragon, Caraxes, towards Dustonbury. False reports had been disseminated, luring the Caltrops out into the open, their central leadership exposed and vulnerable.
Aemond's face contorted with anger and frustration. He had been played, his arrogance and lack of foresight leading him into a trap. The strategic importance of Harrenhal during wartime was well-known, and Daemon had exploited it to his advantage. The letter, written in Daemon's hand, highlighted Aemond's fatal flaw, his refusal to see beyond his own abilities. The letter concluded with a final blow, a taunting phrase that cut deep into Aemond's pride. "Aemond, the One-Eyed Kinslayer" was inscribed at the bottom, a reminder of the consequences of his actions over Shipbreaker Bay and the blood of his late nephew Prince Daeron Targaryen that stained his hands.
Aemond crumpled the letter in his fist, his knuckles turning white. Since acquiring Vhagar, he had thought himself capable, invincible even. But it wasn't until the weight of his failures bore down on him that the realization sank in. His kin had outmaneuvered him, and his family was exposed without any defense.
"Ser!" a squire hurried, panting heavily. "Word from our allies: Dustonbury and Whitegrove have fallen to the enemy; the Young Dragon has captured the Queen Dowager, Lord Unwin, and the others!"
"What?!" Criston exclaimed.
"There's… There's more. The Westerlands have surrendered―"
Aemond abruptly interrupted the squire, cutting off his sentence, and swiftly clasped his hands tightly around the young man's throat. The squire's eyes widened in fear as he struggled to free himself from the prince's grip, gasping for air. It was a shocking display of violence, even for Aemond. It was no surprise that when news of the Caltrops' downfall and the subsequent surrender of the Westerlands to the Blacks reached him, the prince felt an overwhelming sense of foolishness not once but thrice. His fury was fearsome to behold, as if a storm had been unleashed within him. But just as Aemond's rage threatened to consume him completely, a sudden touch on his shoulder startled him. He released his grip on the squire, who collapsed to the ground, coughing and gasping for air. Aemond turned around, his eyes blazing with fury, ready to unleash his wrath on whoever had dared to interrupt him.
"The boy felt honor bound to inform you of the treachery that falls upon you, Prince Aemond."
Aemond turned to see Alys Rivers, unchained and captivating him. The young prince was immediately smitten with her beauty. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to calm down. He turned his attention back to the squire, still struggling to catch his breath.
"Who do you think has led you down this path," Alys continued, "and who do you believe that fed your family lies?" She caressed his arm. "I can show you all the proof you need, Prince Aemond Targaryen."
"How do you know my name?" Aemond asked.
"I know many things, my boy. As did Prince Jaehaerys when he asked me the same question."
"So… Jaehaerys was here as well."
"Indeed, my prince. But ask yourself this: how do you think is the main architect of the fate that befalls your family?"
As Aemond delved deeper into his thoughts, he realized that the blame couldn't be solely on Aeonar or his mother. There were larger forces at play, pulling the strings behind the scenes. Was it a rival house seeking to weaken House Targaryen's power? Or perhaps a disgruntled ally looking to seize control for themselves? The uncertainty gnawed at Aemond. A sense of betrayal washed over him as he considered the possibility that someone within their own family or circle of trusted advisors could be working against them. He remembered the whispers he had heard in the corridors of the Red Keep as a child, the secretive meetings she had with mysterious figures, and the sudden changes in her behavior leading up to the coup attempt in King's Landing. Aemond's mind raced as he tried to puzzle out who could be the true mastermind. Yet, he couldn't ignore that even Beatrice had been influenced by someone or something else. There was a benefactor who had manipulated his mother, using her for their own gain, which ultimately conflicted with the interests of House Targaryen.
But even as his mind raced, his paranoia had already settled in.
Aemond had no love for House Strong or any of that ilk, and the haste with which the castellan had yielded Harrenhal to Daemon Targaryen convinced him the old man was a traitor. "Ser Simon Strong," he issued coolly, "why have you yielded the castle to my uncle and kept it as a base for my brother's forces?"
Ser Simon did not yield under the heavy gaze of Aemond nor with the hot breath of Vhagar eyeing him down. He had no hesitation when he stared death in the face, and he must've known that he would die this day. "We were but a small garrison, yet what could have we done in the face of a dragon? Prince Daemon warned us if we did not surrender, House Strong would meet the same fate as those who came before us. I had no choice."
"However, if my memory serves me correctly, it appears that one of your nephew's actions has been quite inappropriate. He has been fathering three bastard sons and deceitfully claiming them as the legitimate heirs of Ser Laenor Velaryon. This revelation is not only scandalous but also raises questions about the integrity and values of House Strong. Furthermore, the other nephew's unusual fascination with our mother's feet is deeply unsettling. It is not only a peculiar and inappropriate fixation but also raises much suspicion about his character and intentions. It leads me to believe that House Strong is solely focused on their own interests, perhaps even harboring traitorous intentions. Moreover, I've heard rumors that Jaehaerys paid you a visit recently. It is said that he offered you a pardon in exchange for your bending the knee."
Simon remained quiet.
"Your silence tells me what you've been accused of is true. Perhaps the Clubfoot is indeed a traitor. How else would Daemon, Aeonar, and Jaehaerys know when and where to hit us? Someone on the council must have sent word to them in secrecy… and Larys Clubfoot was the Breakbones's younger brother, and thus an uncle to Rhaenyra's bastards."
"We all know the truth, boy. I've been around longer before your mother could walk."
Vhagar growled menacingly, sensing her rider's intent.
"You Strongs have been nothing but trouble. Never again." Aemond turned to his men. "Give the old man a sword," he commanded before turning back to face Ser Simon. "Let the gods decide if you speak truly," he said. "If you are innocent, the Warrior will give you the strength to defeat me."
Simon gazed at Aemond with a mixture of confusion and concern etched on his face. His aged eyes were fixed on the young prince, who appeared to be in a state of frenzy. The Caltrops soldiers, standing nearby, seemed to be grappling with a similar sense of bewilderment. They looked as if they were on the verge of saying something, but the sight of Vhagar looming behind Aemond silenced them. So… this is to be my fate, huh? "It would be a regrettable loss to risk the future of House Strong for a grandnephew who appears to have used you as a mere pawn in his schemes and abandoned you to your fate when you no longer proved useful to him, would it not?" The castellan of Harrenhal was thinking back to his first meeting with Jaehaerys in the courtyard when Prince Daemon was occupying it. He wondered what might have been different if the Rogue Prince hadn't left him, some of his grandsons, and the remaining troops behind as he did. If he hadn't, they might have been on their way to King's Landing by now. Maybe they would have been pardoned and given another chance at redemption.
Regardless, the future of House Strong depended on the fate of his four grandsons still in the capital city.
The ensuing duel was a complete mismatch, as stated by all witnesses. Prince Aemond effortlessly dismantled the aged Ser Simon Strong, leaving no room for doubt. The stark contrast between the two combatants was evident from the very beginning, as Aemond's swift and precise movements contrasted sharply with Ser Simon's sluggish and predictable attacks. As the duel unfolded, the crowd watched in awe and disbelief at the sheer dominance displayed by the prince. With each swing of his sword, Aemond effortlessly parried Ser Simon's feeble attempts at defense, leaving the seasoned knight vulnerable and exposed. It was a one-sided affair, a battle between a lion and a lamb.
The sound of clashing steel and the cries of pain echoed through the courtyard, sending shivers down the spines of those watching.
The sight of blood pooling in the castle's courtyard made some of the Caltrops soldiers cringe, unable to bear witness to the brutality unfolding before their eyes. The metallic scent of iron filled the air, mingling with the gasps and murmurs of the crowd. Aemond's strikes were precise and lethal, leaving deep gashes and wounds on his body. In addition to the crimson pool forming beneath them, fragments of Ser Simon's limbs were strewn about, creating a gruesome spectacle of torn flesh, muscle, and discolored greyed hair. The once proud knight now lay broken and defeated, his dismembered body a canvas of agony and despair. The grotesque scene was a stark reminder of the harsh realities of combat, a reminder that even the most skilled warriors could meet a gruesome fate.
"Ipradis, Vagar. (Eat him, Vhagar.)"
Vhagar's growl reverberated through the air, sending shivers down the spines of all who heard it. It was a menacing, bone-chilling sound that echoed the dragon's power and dominance. As the Queen of All Dragons unleashed her dragonflame, the dismembered limbs of Ser Simon Strong's lifeless corpse were engulfed in a blazing inferno. The intense heat of her conflagration turned the limbs into charred remains, reducing them to nothing more than ashes. The flames danced and flickered, casting an eerie glow on the surrounding landscape. The smell of burning flesh filled the air, a sickening reminder of the dragon's insatiable hunger. With a swift motion, Vhagar's massive jaws clamped down on the charred remains, devouring them with a voracious appetite. The dragon's razor-sharp teeth tore through the flesh and bone, effortlessly consuming the remnants of the body. Each bite was accompanied by a sickening crunch, a testament to the sheer power of the dragon's jaws. As Vhagar devoured the dismembered limbs, her eyes glowed with a fiery intensity. The dragon's hunger was not merely satisfied by consuming the remains; the macabre sustenance fueled it. The corpse of Ser Simon Strong provided nourishment for the mighty creature. The sight of Vhagar feasting on the remains was a horrifying spectacle, one that struck fear into the hearts of those who witnessed it.
"Bring me his grandsons!" Aemond demanded soon after, freckles of dried blood staining his cheekbones and brow. "And every man or boy with Strong blood in his veins. The Stranger does not discriminate in his wielding, and neither will I!"
Alys Rivers observed as Aemond's soldiers, one by one, pulled out every man and boy with Strong blood in his veins were dragged forth and put to death and piled their lifeless bodies in the courtyard until the heap made of their heads stood three feet tall. The screams of the victims echoed through the air, creating a chilling atmosphere. No trueborn Strong was spared nor any bastard, both adult and child, except for Alys.
For reasons none could describe, Aemond had taken Alys into his bed as a prize of war soon after taking Harrenhal, seemingly preferring her to all the other women of the castle, including many pretty maids of his own years. She was older by many decades, raven-haired, and tall as Aemond himself. Her breasts were still heavy with milk from all the highborn children she fed throughout the years. She was a wet nurse, a bastard woman.
But by nightfall, Aemond and Criston devised a new plan to find Beatrice, Unwin, Helaena, and her daughter Jaehaera.
However…
…Aemond's fury was not yet quenched.
The Stormlands ― Along the kingsroad…
Prince Viserys awoke from a brief slumber in his makeshift war tent, stirring slightly in his furs. Next to him, Nettles grumbled as she was roused from her sleep. Both of them were completely naked, just as they had come into the world. This was the first night they had sex, sharing an intimate moment. As they lay there in the quiet of the tent, the reality of their situation began to sink in. The war was far from over, and they both knew they would soon have to return to the battlefield. But for now, they allowed themselves to bask in the afterglow of their lovemaking, finding solace in each other's arms.
Viserys was already content with what he had, always maintaining a close bond with his siblings, never engaging in rivalry but supporting each other as a family in times of need. He knew that many would frown upon their relationship, given their different backgrounds and the societal norms of their time. But in that moment, with Nettles' warm body pressed against his own, he pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the present. As he gazed at her sleeping form, he couldn't help but marvel at her beauty. Her wild, untamed hair cascaded down her back in a tangled mess, her skin glowing in the soft light of the tent. Viserys knew she was not of noble blood or a bastard, but he didn't care. In that moment, all that mattered was the connection they shared, the undeniable chemistry that had drawn them together.
Despite being third in the line of succession for the Iron Throne, Viserys allowed himself to be selfish just this once, running his pale Valyrian hands along Nettles' arm.
"Mmm… Did ya have to wake me up, Serys?" Nettles grumbled groggily. "Can't we just stay like this for a little longer?"
"Oh, trust me, Netty. I'm very tempted… but we wouldn't want anyone asking questions, hmm?"
"Feh! Bastardy lords, ugh… fine, I'm up."
As they dressed and prepared to face the day ahead, Viserys couldn't help but feel a sense of uncertainty. But as he looked into Nettles' eyes, he knew they would face whatever challenges came their way together. And as they emerged from the tent, hand in hand, ready to face the world. The Blacks would soon begin marching toward Storm's End, the seat of House Baratheon, and either force Borros to surrender or kill him.
"Just so you know: you were really great in bed last night, Serys," Nettles teased.
"Netty! Not when everyone's around," Viserys blushed.
"Aww, how cute. You're blushing!"
"Hey!" Aegon called out. "About time you two got up!" He noticed his twin's flushed cheeks. "Huh? Did you two… just―"
"Not. One. Word, Aegon."
"Sheesh, sorry. Your business, your affairs."
"What's our state of readiness?" Viserys inquired.
"We're still getting ourselves ready for the march to Storm's End, so we've sent a raven to King's Landing requesting more supplies," Aegon replied. "But there's more," he held a scroll. "A messenger came in the night. Said father's captured that bitch Beatrice and the clubfoot Larys Strong between Whitegrove and Starpike."
"Really?"
"Finally, some good news!" Nettles boldly proclaimed. "That is good news, right?"
"Normally, I'd agree," Viserys stated, "but Aemond and Aegon Waters are still out there. Plus, we still have nowhere about the dragonseeds Hugh Hammer and Ulf White. So long as these two groups are still out there, the war is not over."
"That's what the messenger said," Aegon agreed. "What do you think, Viserys?"
"Well, we'll need to send word to Jay and Aemma before we―"
"Dragon incoming!" a scout hollered.
Aegon, Viserys, and Nettles shifted their gaze upwards, spotting an unknown dragon descending towards them. Maelyx and Sheepstealer were awakened from their sleep and emitted low growls, sensing the presence of another dragon. The commotion prompted the Winter Wolves and knights of the Vale to swiftly make their way to their positions, assuming that an enemy had arrived. However, this dragon appeared noticeably smaller and had a distinct coloration of olive-green scales with tan wing membranes. As the young dragon landed, cautiously eyeing Maelyx and Sheepstealer, Aegon and Viserys immediately identified its rider.
"Luke?" the twins spoke in surprise.
Lucerys, having bonded with another dragon from the Dragonpit, had arrived on the battlefield from King's Landing. "Cousins!" he warmly greeted them, dismounting.
"You've got a new dragon," Aegon noticed.
"His name's Essovius."
"What about Jace? Does he have a new one?"
"Not yet, no. He's still looking. So for now, grandfather and Ser Addam are having Jace on ship detail."
"Not that we're saying we're happy to see you out here, Luke, but… why are you here? It's dangerous," Viserys inquired.
"Mother says they've received word from House Footly. Tumbleton is under attack and needs reinforcements. Lord Hightower is doing everything he can, but there are just too many men!"
"Is it the Caltrops?"
Lucerys shook his head. "No confirmation yet. That's all we've gotten so far," he admitted.
"But we can't just abandon the campaign. Storm's End is within our reach!" Aegon exclaimed. "And we can't get word fast enough to Jaehaerys or Aemma. They're too far away!"
Viserys extensively weighed the pros and cons of their upcoming decisions. Grassy Vale lay not too distant from the Blacks' encampment, and it was the nearest location to Tumbleton. Situated near the borders of the Stormlands and the Reach, it was a strategic position. Sheepstealer, Vermithor, and Silverwing were slow, considering their larger size. If Tumbleton faced a siege, smaller dragons would be swifter and could arrive in time. Nevertheless, Lucerys may have lacked experience and was still adjusting to his new dragon, but he was eager to prove himself to his cousins. "I'll go," he said.
"Huh?!" Nettles raised a brow in protest.
"Viserys―" Aegon tried to interject.
"Aegon," Viserys interrupted, "you'll need to take command and force House Baratheon to surrender. If you can't, then Lord Borros will have to die. I'm told his wife, Lady Elenda, has just given birth to a son. Meaning we can still use this as leverage."
"I'll go with you!" Nettles volunteered.
"I'd like that, Nettles, but Sheepstealer can't keep up with Maelyx. I'll need you to stay with my brother and help him before we begin the march."
"The hell you will if you think you can leave me behind!"
"Netty…"
"Why…?"
"If anything were to happen to you out there, I'd never forgive myself. Besides, someone needs to keep an eye on Aegon and ensure he doesn't do anything stupid. You know how he tends to get when he's riled up."
Nettles scowled disapprovingly at Viserys' unwavering insistence on leaving her behind with Aegon. At the same time, he and Lucerys embarked on their journey to Tumbleton to meet up with Lord Ormund Hightower's army and break the siege. However, she couldn't deny that Viserys was not only a prince of the Targaryen dynasty but also a skilled dragonrider. Moreover, like his siblings, he possessed an unwavering resolve once he had set his mind on something. "Just… stay safe out there, you hear? I'll have to kick your ass if you don't," she said firmly.
"I'll try," Viserys reassured her. Mounting his dragon Maelyx, he looked back at Aegon and Nettles. "Aegon."
"Yes, Viserys?" Aegon responded to his twin.
"Good luck…"
"You too, brother."
"Take care of Nettles for me."
"I will. I promise."
Viserys acknowledged his brother Aegon and Nettles with a nod, glancing at Lucerys. Mounted on their respective dragons, Maelyx and Espvois soared through the vast expanse of the sky, their wings beating against the wind. As they flew, they were accompanied by 1,300 soldiers of the Winter Wolves, marching in perfect formation beneath them. Clad in their fur-lined armor and wielding their deadly weapons, which accounted for over a third of the North's military strength that had embarked on the journey southward. While Aegon and Nettles deal with House Baratheon in the Stormlands, Viserys and Lucerys would rush to reinforce House Footly in the Reach.
As Maelyx and Essovius flew off into the distance, neither knew that they were being watched from below.
"They're moving."
"Good. Have the men pull back."
Chapter End
Author's Note: Next chapter and Aemond is pissed! Having realized the recapture of Harrenhal was all a trap, Aemond slaughtered whatever Strong he could get his hands on. But considering there were mentions of a few of Ser Simon's grandsons were at King's Landing, House Strong might have a chance to survive a bit longer. Meanwhile, in the Stormlands, we also witness a moment for Viserys and Nettles' intimacy before seeing Lucerys had bonded with another dragon. What's more, Tumbleton is under attack by an unknown force. However, they're being watched. But by who? Take a wild guess.
C.E.W: Well as expected Aemond Targaryen and Criston Cole arrived at Harrenhal only to find it deserted. Not only that put soon found out that Beatrice Peake, Unwin Peake, Larys Strong, and Tyland Lannister captured. Aemond took it quite terribly added with the surrender of the Westerlands. He has already started by killing Ser Simon Strong and the Strong relatives in Harrenhal, but his fury is far from over. Aemond will target every Riverland village or lords who are loyal to the Blacks just in a fit of rage of being made a fool.
The Black forces under Aegon the Younger, Prince Viserys, and Nettles continue to press their attack against the Stormlands under Borros Baratheon. Figures that Viserys and Nettles would get together, won't be long before whispers get to Aeonar whose a Spymaster. By now Borros Baratheon has gotten word of what has transpired with the capture of the Caltrops leadership and surrender of the Westerlands.
Tumbleton is under attack, Hugh Hummer and Ulf White no doubt with their private army and dragons. Viserys and Lucerys with his new dragon are moving to try to lift the siege. Viserys is a skilled dragon rider whose spent his whole life training to be a dragon rider and how to master his dragon. He's also no stranger to battle. Lucerys however, has only just got his new dragon and he's no quite as trained. He does have some experience in fighting on dragonback having gotten away from Vhagar at Stormbreaker Bay, due to Daeron's sacrifice but still, and he fought at the Gullet.
Hugh Hammer and Ulf Hammer on the other hand have never fought a real battle before on ground or on dragonback. Taking Tumbleton is hardly battle experience which is an advantage Viserys and even Lucerys will have.
Questions:
Where is Jasper Wylde? Is he still fighting in the Stormlands?
―Dead. Killed off-screen by Aegon the Younger
How's Borros Baratheon's army standing? By now they got word of the capture of the Caltrop leadership in the Reach, and surrender of the Stormlands. Hearing this, Borros' army will be very demoralized to say the least?
―Borros Baratheon isn't doing so well right now
Where's Daemon and Caraxes? With Aemond and Vhagar still loose, and the attack on Tumbleton, shouldn't he still be fighting?
―Sweeping any remnants around the southwest part of the Reach
How's Baela doing with her pregnancy? By now the rest of the family is aware, aren't they?
―Baela's feeling restless, but yes, the rest of the Velaryons know
What's the condition of Rhaenys the Queen who Never Was? Is she still in a coma?
―Yes
How are Alicent and Rhaenyra doing?
―Not doing well emotionally if that's what you mean
I take Aeonar is the only doing the watching, he is a Spymaster after all?
―Yes
randomdude24: Aemond reaction went about how i expected. Killing the Strongs will not win the Caltrop any allies, in fact gives lords more reason to oppose them. Aemond name is not only mocked but severely hated for his actions. Killing Dareon started a war, killing the strongs for what he perceives as cowardly, and i imagine he's going to burn the riverlands. All this has zero strategic sense and will most likely be the reason they lose.
Viserys and Nettles, not surprised. Although if Nettles is pregnant with Viserys child, not going to look good. Kinda surprised, Tumbelton is happening. I'm guessing the Two Betrayers are making their move, either attacking to draw out some dragon riders or planning to attack the Blacks allies in the stormlands. Giving Borros an opportunity. I really hope this doesn't lead to another Targaryen death, but i guess we will see.
Questions,
So, were is Aegon Waters? Dragonstone?
―Unknown
Would Borros ever surrender, given the circumstances? At this moment only the Stormlands are left to oppose.
―If there were no dragons involved, maybe, but he's a warrior
If the Two Betrayers made their move, what kind of force do they have? Sellswords?
―I'll let your speculation run about that
One last question, couple chapters ago Aeonar killed the Caltrop Kingsguard. But i noticed in the parley chapter two were not mentioned, Edmund Warrick and Gyles Belgrave. Are they dead or are they protecting Aegon?
―They're with Aemond and Criston