The Aegonfort 2 BC.
Rhaenys Targaryen.
She looked out the window at the lands below, their lands for now and for the future according to what Aemon had told her and Aegon. Behind her in the bed, Aegon still slept and she felt the need to let him rest. Her brother worried about Aemon and Orys and how they would manage against the army that Aemon had seen, his worries no doubt inflamed by Visenya's own regarding their kinsman. Rhaenys however feared not for either of the two men. Orys was as capable as any and Aemon had fought many battles. They had Rhaegal with them and should the need to use the green dragon be forced upon Aemon, then she had no doubt he'd do so.
Among the many tales he'd told her about their kin in the future, tales of battle were ones that both Visenya and Aegon had wished to hear more than any. Aemon was only too happy to speak on some of them at least and there had been many. From his own conquest to retake the throne that had been stolen from their family, to a war against things that even the merest thought of sent a shudder down her spine. Their kinsman had fought in battles both with and without a dragon. He'd led an army, rode in a cavalry charge, and brought fire and blood to those he faced. So a few men from minor houses would not cause him or Orys any difficulty she believed.
Still, until they returned, or word of their victory reached them, she knew her sister and husband would worry. Watching the sun as it rose and shined down on the three hills that would be at the center of the city they'd build, brought a smile to her face. Off in the distance, she could see Balerion, Meraxes, and Vhagar flying high and the three dragons owned the skies for miles around, as soon she, her sister, and her husband would own the lands beneath them. So wrapped up was she in the sight of them flying that she didn't hear Aegon rise and let out a small gasp when he kissed her neck.
"Morning, my love," Aegon said as he then kissed her for true, a kiss she returned happily.
"Morning. You slept well?" she asked to a nod of his head.
"I did. Are you ready to rise for true or should we…" he asked motioning with his head to the bed and Rhaenys laughing as she shook her own.
"I find myself hungry, Aegon, keener for sustenance than anything else." she said and laughed even louder at the put-out look on his face "Though later I'm sure I'll not be," she whispered as she kissed his cheek and moved to dress for the day ahead.
"Until later then." she heard him say.
For once she beat him as they dressed. Aegon still seemed somewhat sleepy while she was wide awake and so she was forced to wait for him, rather than how their mornings usually went. They were the only ones who'd risen to break their fast, though they were soon joined by Visenya and Daemon. Her sister looked worried still, while Daemon seemed more like her and worried not. There was little conversation and they'd not even finished when the guard came in to tell them that their army had been spotted and marched their way. Visenya not bothering to wait on either of them as she rushed from the room and Rhaenys noticed the annoyed look on Aegon's face as she did so.
Her husband rose a moment later and held out his hand for her, Daemon then followed them as they walked far more slowly from the room and to what would one day be a courtyard of their new keep. There was no sign of Visenya when they got there and both she and Aegon frowned upon hearing that she'd mounted a horse and ridden to greet the army. Aegon only calmed somewhat when he was told that men and the white wolf had ridden with her and that Vhagar had followed.
How long it took for Orys, Aemon and Visenya herself to return she knew not, though the wait felt unbearable. Eventually, though the gates opened and the sound of her sister's laughter was even louder than the sound of the horses as they rode through it. Visenya rode beside Aemon with Orys to the other side and to see her laugh so was a strange thing. As was seeing the broad smile on Aemon's face as they shared some words that Rhaenys knew not. Orys looked pleased as well, though he was far less effusive than the other two.
"Well, I assume it's a victory we'll be celebrating." Daemon said and Rhaenys chuckled at Aegon's expression when he looked to their Master of Ships.
It was Aemon who dismounted first and her eyes narrowed when he helped Visenya down from her own horse. The way he held her hips and how both her and Aemon's eyes seemed locked on each other's was something that raised her hackles somewhat. Aegon had turned to look at Orys, her husband seeking answers with his own eyes that he seemed to somewhat get. Though what the truth of those answers were they'd only find out a few moments later.
"Your grace," Aemon said taking a knee in front of them as Visenya took her place back by Aegon's side.
"Rise Aemon, rise and be recognized," Aegon said and then repeated the words to Orys when he too knelt.
All of them then walked into the keep, Aegon and Orys speaking to each other in hushed whispers while Aemon spoke to Daemon. She moved closer to her sister to find her eyes on Aemon and Aemon alone and she resolved to speak to her about that later. For now, she listened as Visenya sang Aemon's praises and she felt a little annoyed that Orys was not getting as much of the credit, for what was a victory without a battle, as their kinsman was. Though once they reached their solar, it was Orys himself who sought to repeat what Visenya had said.
"There was no battle, your grace. Aemon used Rhaegal to bring the Lords Darklyn and Mooton to heel and both men are outside ready to pledge themselves to their new king." Orys said.
"You unleashed the dragon, Aemon?" Aegon asked and Aemon shook his head.
"A threat of it, your grace. Orys could have led our men to victory without my presence. We'd have lost some men but taken more of theirs and I've no doubt the result would have been the same, a surrender and pledging of victory." Aemon said and Rhaenys saw how Orys seemed pleased by the words that were spoken.
"Though I'm happier it went down as it did, your grace. We won without the need to spill one drop of blood and our forces remain intact. Your new allies now bring a larger force to our side too, and though they were not forced to kneel after a loss, I believe they knelt just as truly with the threat Aemon gave them." Orys said.
"Just what exactly did you say to them, Aemon?" she asked curiously.
"The truth, your grace. That if they forced me to bring Rhaegal to bear it would be their keeps I'd bring him to next and that stone melts as easily as wood and flesh burn. It was not my words that brought them to their knees, more the sight of Rhaegal's flames as he burned the ground in front of them that did so."
"Your words did help," Orys said with a chuckle that Aemon joined in.
"Aye, somewhat," Aemon replied.
She was pleased to see both men somewhat getting along. Things had been tense between them since Aemon arrived and Orys she knew felt somewhat put out by his presence. Aemon had told them something that his uncle had said when he was a boy, something that she was now starting to see the truth of and she wondered if it would hold true for the rest of the Conquest.
"We find our true friends on the battlefield."
After speaking on the numbers of men that had now been added to their own and welcoming the fact that in Duskendale and Maidenpool they'd added not just two decent-sized towns, but two port towns, talk turned to other matters. Visenya surprising both her and Aegon with the words she spoke and pleasing both of them in turn with them too.
"It's time to crown a king, Aegon. The Conquest has truly begun and we've taken most of the lands around us. More than enough with Dragonstone and Driftmark to name you equal in terms of holdings with all but the Starks. That we all know this is just the beginning makes it more needed as well and the message must be sent loud and clear."
"The message?" she asked.
"That these are one lands with one king and his name is Aegon Targaryen," Aemon said and Rhaenys saw the proud smile that appeared on Aegon's face.
"We'll do so before the night falls. Then we'll have our guests pledge their fealty to their king before we plan out the next steps we must take," she said to nods.
"Good I could do with a wash and change of clothes," Orys said as he nodded and moved to the door.
"Orys has the right of it, your graces," Aemon said bowing his head slightly to her, Aegon, and then Visenya before following Orys and heading to his rooms.
Looking to her sister, she believed she could see a wish to follow after Aemon, a desire to do so, and one that Visenya fought for now. Aegon had turned to speak to Daemon and so mayhap missed it, but she did not. It stuck with her during their conversations about the crowning and the pledging of fealty. Aegon took Daemon's suggestion that he should take oaths from him, Orys, Aemon, and others too. Visenya then spoke up about what those oaths should be.
Once again she resolved to speak to her sister, but the rest of the day soon seemed to get away from them all. Before she knew it they were all gathered in the largest room in the Aegonfort. The Long Hall was full of their men, lords who'd already sworn to them and those who were closest to them. Aemon wore clothing much like their own. Orys wore black tinged with yellow while Daemon wore an off silver that seemed almost out of place. It was she and Visenya who'd crown their new king, Aegon kneeling down in front of a large chair that would for now have to settle as a throne of sorts.
She felt her breath hitch in her throat as Visenya stepped forward with the circlet in her hands. They'd designed it together, long before the Conquest had begun, and had it made moons ago. It was Valyrian Steel and set with big square-cut rubies. A crown fit for a conqueror or so both of them had thought. Looking around at the faces as Visenya placed it on Aegon's head, she found none seemed so enraptured by the sight as Aemon did. It made her want to know why that was and yet she had her own work to do here today. Stepping forward, she cleared her throat and hoped her words came out as intended.
"All hail Aegon the First of his Name, King of all people and Shield of Westeros," she said and Aegon's smile along with Visenya's was enough to tell her just how well she'd done.
Oaths were sworn and none seemed reluctant to her. Orys, Daemon, then Aemon all moving forward and yet when Aemon knelt, he swore to all three of them equally which surprised her somewhat. Though not Aegon it seemed. Once he was done, the lords who'd knelt and had joined their men to their own then swore their own oaths. Again none seeming to swear them with anything but the truth in their words.
They feasted that night, danced, sang, and made merry. Her sister seemed to be in a far more pleasant mood as they did so than she was oft wont to be. Some of that down to the day that was in it, Rhaenys felt, some down to the man she danced with more often than not, Aemon. Aegon may not have noticed it as much as she did, but there was something about the way that Aemon and her sister looked at each other, and with how comfortable they were with each other. It reminded her of something and it wasn't until later that night that she believed she knew what that was. Her sister reminded her of herself, of how she'd be when she was with Aegon, and while a part of her rejoiced that Visenya had finally found that, a larger part of her worried too. For it was not in her husband that she'd found such joy, it was in the arms of another man.
Dorne 2 BC.
Princess Meria Martell.
Her sides ached, as did her back and she was in a foul mood as she listened to her son, Maester, steward, and head of her household guard argue over what to do. Some were preaching caution, others demanding they go and fight, even though they had no idea of where that fight would be. They were the same arguments that had been going on for nigh on a year now. Ever since the first letter had arrived from Aegon Targaryen offering little and demanding much.
Meria's answer to that had she thought been enough. An offer of an alliance as equals not vassals. Yet they'd received no reply to her offer and she wondered now if she should make it more clear and direct or should she simply ignore this latest message. For it was clear to her, not that it had not been then, that Aegon Targaryen sought not Dorne's aid but its subjugation and that was not something that she was willing to even contemplate.
For now, she let the arguments continue around her and was thankful she was old and blind. Had she been a younger woman then she'd have been forced to slap some sense into these foolish men physically, her age allowed her to do so with her words. Once she found those words that was. It took her far longer to do so than at one point it would have. Age was not the reason for that, more the course of action she needed to chart to see Dorne survive the greatest threat it had faced in her lifetime, demanded it of her.
"Enough!"
"Princess."
"I said enough. You argue like green boys who have not fought a battle before, nor faced an enemy across an open field. Have you not fought against the Storm King, Nymor? Has Dorne not repelled any who sought to take our lands from us before, Maron? Would that my granddaughter was here and we'd have some sense spoken." she said bemoaning the fact that Deria was not yet back from her trip to Hellholt.
"What would you have us do, mother?" Nymor asked.
"I'll draft another letter to Aegon Targaryen, make him one final offer, but we must call for the lords and make ready our plans should our offer be rejected," she said her head turning in the direction of her son's voice.
"I'll see it done, mother."
"Darius, some ink and parchment and I'll have need of your eyes for the letter I must write," she said turning to the Maester.
"At once, my princess."
With the shuffling of feet, the sound of doors opening, soon enough the room was empty other than Maron. She could hear the deep breaths that her head of guards was taking, the anger and annoyance that he felt at what Aegon Targaryen's letter meant still clear even now, days after they'd received it. His footsteps were heavy as he paced the room and she knew that before the day was done, one of her poor guards would face him in the sparring yard and bear the brunt of his anger.
"Take a seat Maron, lest your heavy feet wear a hole in my new rug," she said almost chuckling when he did as she bid and the sound of the chair being roughly moved rang out in the room.
"We should attack him now, my princess. Bring the fight to the dragons before they gain any victories and grow their army." Maron said as she motioned with her head to where the jug of wine was.
The sound of it being poured into the glass and the feel of his hand as he placed the glass in it were both most welcome to her. As was the sour taste of the wine when she took her first swallow of it. It brought comfort to her parched throat and like with most actions she took, it bought her time. Some may think her weak because of her age, blindness, and the fact she'd allowed her body to go to fat. In this, they'd be both right and wrong. Meria was less formidable physically than she had once been and far less beautiful, but her mind was still as keen as ever. She just took her time to consider her moves that much more carefully. The luxury of not having much time left in this world allowed her to do so.
"Would that we knew where they were, how to reach them without them knowing of us, and how to nullify the threat that the dragons would pose to our men when they marched, Maron. Aegon Targaryen is not Argillac Durrandon or Harren the Black, he's not Loren Lannister or Mern Gardner, would that he was." she sighed.
"What would you ask of me, my princess?" Maron asked.
"That you show patience though it's not your natural state, my friend. For I'll have need of it in the days to come."
"As you command, my princess," Maron said and she heard him fumble in his seat.
"Go use that spear of yours, a calm head is what I require and yours will not be until you do," she said with a smile as he rose to his feet almost instantly.
"I am yours to command, my princess, always," Maron said and then he was gone from the room leaving her alone with her thoughts.
They were thoughts that she'd had much over the last few days and she wished she had someone other than Deria that she could truly share them with. Men thought too much of honor and valor and she feared there was no place for either in the days to come. They believed all disputes could be solved at the end of the speartip or with a sword in hand. Their pride not allowing them to understand that one day they'd find themselves across from someone stronger, more skilled, and more ruthless than they. Women understood as they were weaker than men in some respects, which allowed them to be stronger than them in most. Listening to the sound of footsteps approaching, she cleared her head and readied the words she was to write.
A week later.
The letter had been sent, the final offer made. A truer alliance and one that gave up as much as she was willing to give up. She'd help Aegon beat the Storm King and take his lands for himself. Dorne wouldn't even seek any of the spoils of war and yet they'd not kneel and name him king. Instead, they'd not seek to deny his right to be king of the lands north of Dorne. They would not ally with any who'd face him nor come to the aid of any other than he if called upon.
She feared it was not enough, but it was all she could do and the preparations had been made in case it was not accepted. The Lords of Dorne had been called and were at present making their way to Sunspear. Battle plans would be discussed and a course of action settled upon. Meria was ready to face harsh words that would name her a craven for the plans she had begun to form in her head. Yet it was better to run and live than stand and die, to give no fight until it was one that could be won. She'd make them see so, for Dorne to survive, she had to.
"Your granddaughter, my princess." she heard her guard say and the smell of jasmine soon filled her nose.
"Grandmother," Deria said as she hugged her where Meria sat.
"I'm most pleased you've returned, granddaughter, I feared I was losing my mind in dealing with fools," she said to a chuckle as her granddaughter took a seat beside her.
Soon the perfume that Deria wore was joined by other smells, ones far more pleasant to Meria's nose. The spices of the meal that her granddaughter had no doubt ordered brought to them, almost made her mouth water. They ate, spoke little on things of import and much on things that were not. Meria drank the wine as if she was dying of thirst. The feel of it on her tongue and the way it dulled, but not quite, her senses, was something she was grateful for. All too soon the meal was ended and the true words between her and her granddaughter were spoken. Words that brought Meria no comfort at all and led to many sleepless nights over the next few weeks.
Casterly Rock 2 BC.
King Loren Lannister.
He looked over the accursed letter and once again wished for nothing more than to tear it up or watch it burn. The gall of the man to demand he bend the knee. Him, the King of the Rock, Loren Lannister, kneel to a pitiful lizard of all things. To dare name himself as the one king. Westeros as one land. Then to offer him nothing but what was his by right of blood and law. He crumpled up the letter in his fist and threw it on the table, as he'd done countless times since it had arrived.
Rising to his feet, he moved to the other table in his solar. This one had a map laid out on it and figures representing the strength of Westeros to his best knowledge. Loren looked down at the number of men each kingdom could call upon. The Lion figures, the Wolves in the North, the Snakes in Dorne, and the longships of Harren the Black. He looked at the black-crowned Stag of the Storm King and the white Falcon of the Vale. Finally turning to the lizards and seeing how pitiful they truly were.
Aegon Targaryen could call on less than some of Loren's own bannermen. Less than five thousand men in total and that included those at sea and those who'd not bear arms if he was to believe his spies. He had few horse, none that were truly heavy cavalry, and barely any knights. Yet his letter spoke as if he had ten times his number and they should bow and fall to their knees without a fight. Such arrogance, such cockiness deserved a response and he'd bring him one in blood should he dare seek to take what is his.
"What fear I a lizard," he said knocking over the figures.
"What fear I such a small army."
"Why would I kneel to you."
The answer came to him almost immediately as it had each day since the letter had arrived. It was an answer he rejected, denied, gave no mind to then or now. An answer that in truth he had no reply to.
'Dragons'
Loren left the room and made his way to break his fast. His days since the letter had arrived now all followed the same pattern. He'd wake early and go to his solar. There he'd stew and bristle over the letter and the demands it contained. Eventually, he'd find his resolve strengthened, and then and only then would he join his family and break his fast. Walking into his family dining room, he smiled to see his wife and sons. He placed a kiss on Myrcella's soft cheek and took his place beside his wife.
The conversation was as pleasant as always. His younger sons speaking of the days sparring and jousting practice to come, his older sons spoke of visiting their cousins in Lannisport, while his wife mentioned something about ladies arriving that day. Truth be told as much as he tried to keep up and offer encouraging words and a welcome ear, just like every other morning he was distracted still. This morning at least his appetite was true and he ate a full plate for once. Rising to kiss his wife once more and to ready to go about the rest of his day.
As it had for the last few days, his path soon took him to the smiths and he shared words with Daron about the armor and weapons he'd bid him make. Night and day he'd had the man and his apprentices working and since he'd not truly shared his reasons for it, he knew his actions had come across as odd. Why he'd not truly shared his reasons, he couldn't tell. Mayhap he believed if he kept them to himself they'd not come true or he wished for the peace that his family felt to be something they enjoyed for longer. Far better they didn't share the burdens of what was going through his mind after all.
"Your horse is ready, my king." he heard a voice say and he shook his head and found himself in the stables with no memory of how he got there.
"Good we'll ride," he said a moment later, expecting that if he'd ordered his horse to be readied that he'd better make it look as if he knew why he'd done so.
He and his guards were soon riding hard across the lands in front of Casterly Rock. Loren felt the wind in his face and tried to shut out the images of a cavalry charge and a battle from his mind. When he felt his horse tire under him, he brought the ride to a halt and was relieved to find himself close to a stream. The horses, his men, and he himself all welcomed the cold crisp water as it wet their parched throats.
Looking around the lands, seeing the Rock in the distance and the men that were with him, he felt his resolve harden once more. These were his lands, his people, if anyone wished to take them from him then they'd not do so without a fight. The time for keeping things to himself was now gone, the time to prepare for a war that was to come would soon be upon him. The ride back to Casterly Rock was more leisurely and he arrived in time to see his son's return. Loren bid them join him in his solar once they'd put the horses away.
That night he showed them the letter, his two oldest sons reacting much the same way he did and he enjoyed hearing the fire in their voices. They bid him to fight, to face the threat head-on, and counseled him to speak to his lords. Loren listened and welcomed the advice. Larson his oldest son was the first to point out the work going on in the smiths, Lyman his second-oldest spoke of ships and of launching an attack on the lizards before one was launched upon them. Later as he lay in bed and spoke to his wife, Myrcella spoke of alliances, of weddings and matches, and seeking aid.
"We are not the only kingdoms to resist this demand surely, my love?" Myrcella said as he rubbed his hand over her shoulder and moved her blond hair from her face.
"No, I imagine not. But who? Who offers us the best chance to win this war?"
"We must look to King Mern, my love. His kingdom borders our own."
"Would not the North be better? King Torrhen has fought more true battles than Mern and the Northmen have held back the Harren the Black for many a year?"
"What know we of the North, my love?" Myrcella asked and Loren shook his head "Even their gods are wrong. I fear we'd not make common ground with them and should it be a marriage that is needed, I'd not see my son in a heathen land."
"Nor would I," he said firmly and felt her relax under his arms.
"Then you'll reach out to King Mern?" she asked.
"I'll reach out to him," he replied.
In the end, he found he had no need to, the raven arrived a few days later requesting a meeting and Loren felt a weight be removed from his shoulders. He ate heartily, slept better and his mind was less troubled than it had once been. As he looked down at the map and the figures upon it, he smiled, then he laughed.
"A king without an army is no king, a king without a head can wear no crowns."
The Riverlands 2 BC.
Aegon Targaryen.
The weight of the crown he wore felt insignificant and he thought on it not. Nor did he really think much on the battles that were to come. No, that was a lie, he thought on them much, just not the ones he would face. Instead, it was the ones he'd sent others to fight for him in. it was to the Stormlands and to Gulltown that his thoughts would turn to as he and his army rode through the Riverlands. It was to those not here that his fears were raised for, to his love, his sister, his brother by choice, for Daemon, and for Aemon.
"The time has come to set forth our plans." Aegon said as they stood in his solar, the map laid out in front of them on the table "Orys you and Rhaenys will take the majority of our host and ride to the Stormlands, bring King Argillac to his knees, force him to yield or bleed, I care not."
"It will be done, your grace," Orys said resolutely.
"Visenya, Daemon. Gulltown is the prize I seek you to take. With it and Storm's End in our hands, we control the seas and cut off any supplies from Essos that may be sought."
"I'll fly with them, your grace," Aemon said and Aegon looked at him unsurely.
"Why?" he asked.
"I…there are things I remember from my lessons as a child, your grace. Fragments of what to me was history and to us all here and now is the future. Some things are ingrained in me and are things I know to be true, others I'm unsure about until I'm not." Aemon said and he watched as he moved to rub his hand through the white wolf's fur "With Ghost by my side, more and more the feeling of what I am unsure about is lessened."
"You know something of the battle in Gullttown don't you?" Visenya said excitedly.
"I know that Harren will be brought to heel and his grace will be victorious, that Orys and Rhaenys will take the Stormlands. I know that Lord Velaryon led the fleet and you rode upon Vhagar. This I knew but what I…" Aemon stuttered somewhat and paled as he looked at Daemon.
"Aemon?" Visenya said concernedly.
"You fall, Lord Velaryon, you fall in the Battle of Gulltown," Aemon said to shocked looks and a gasp from Rhaenys.
"You're sure of this?" he asked and Aemon nodded.
"I'll see it doesn't happen, your grace. It's why I've been brought back to this time and place after all." Aemon said and Aegon looked to Daemon who too had paled a little and to Visenya whose look bid him accept Aemon's words.
"See it done, Aemon," he said to a nod.
"As you command, your grace."
He'd said his goodbyes to both his sister-wives. One of them was more saddened by it than the other. Visenya had bid him be safe and kissed his cheek while Rhaenys had been far more effusive in her worries and concern. Parting was such sweet sorrow, his heart yearned to be by Rhaenys' side, and had this been Dorne that she was going to, then nothing would have stopped him from doing so. Aegon had spoken much and often to Aemon about what he'd said regarding Rhaenys' death. The resolve he'd heard in his kinsman's voice to see it would not come to pass, was the one comforting thing he'd found since the tale of it had been spoken to him.
Shaking his head from the thoughts of those not here, putting his worries aside, for now, he found himself looking to the God's Eye in the distance. They were just coming upon its southern shore when he felt it, be it his own hackles or Balerion's, something felt off to him. Turning to the men with him, he bid them form up and was relieved to see them do so as quickly as they did.
"My king?" Lord Rosby asked from beside him.
"A battle my lord, the first one against the Ironborn I believe," he said to the confused lord, and then they saw them.
He gave the order to charge, horse and lance against men who had few of either. His own lance was already in hand and the surprise that their foes had thought to use against them was not as complete as they believed it was. In the sky, he could feel Balerion fly towards them, his dragon was worried about him and eager to play his own part in the battle to come. Yet there would be no need for him to do so. Their charge broke the lines and required no second one to win the day. His lance had broken when it stuck the horse of the first men he'd reached and Blackfrye had been unsheathed and brought to bear a moment later.
The Valyrian Steel was more than a match for the poorly armored Ironborn and his men's disciplined charge had been devastating. So much so that there was barely any blood on Blackfryre's blade and as his horse came to a stop, he looked back to see just how complete a victory this had been. They'd lost few men which could not be said for the Ironborn who'd attacked them. Aegon counted their number as close to a thousand and less than half of them would ever fight again he'd wager. Seeing Balerion land in front of him, he dismounted and made his way to the black dragon, quickly taking to the sky and seeing the carnage even more clearly from atop his dragon's back.
After flying a few miles in front of them to make sure that no other enemies were in sight, he bid Balerion take him back to his army and landed close to his guards who awaited his return.
"Jikagon ipradagon se ēdrugon, emi iā rōvykta vīlībagon naejot māzigon, ñuha raqiros." (Go eat and sleep, we have a much bigger fight to come, my friend.) he said and he tried not to chuckle at Balerion's snort of hot air from his nostrils.
His dragon had not yet unleashed his flames upon an enemy for true and once he did, things would never be the same in Westeros again. A part of him looked forward to it, to showing the true power of the dragons to those foolish enough to oppose him. While another feared it somewhat. Thankfully that part was far smaller than the other.
He set his men to question the survivors, Aegon seeking answers that he doubted these men had to give but needed to try anyway. That night they camped by the God's Eye itself and he found himself staring off at the Isle of Faces in the distance before the moon was covered by cloud and the sight was lost to him. Aemon had said that there was great power in certain places in Westeros, he'd spoken tales of Children of the Forest, a Three-Eyed Raven who had seen all, and the Old Gods who were ever watchful.
Aegon believed not in the gods, not the old or the new. He knew that when he'd conquered these lands it would be the men of the faith who'd seek him to name them as true. Followers of the Seven who are One who would wish to chart the course of the kingdom he'd create. At one point during his planning of this campaign, he'd thought to offer them that wish. To name them as his gods and see the faith on his side, the things that Aemon had said had changed his mind much on that. He'd need to bring the faith to heel, seek to work with them somewhat, but never would he be a servant or a slave to them.
"Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor." he said before he turned and headed to his tent and his bed, an empty one though it was.
His dreams of Rhaenys were not as pleasant as he'd have liked. Firstly seeing her flying on Meraxes over Dornish sands and crying out with all his might as he tried to warn her. Then they were intercut with Visenya and Aemon smiling at each other, standing too close together for his liking. In the end, it was neither of these things that he was awakened by. Instead, it was the sounds of panic and the loud cries of pain as well as his guards shaking him awake that he opened his eyes to.
"We're under attack, my king." his guard said.
"Who?"
"Ironborn."
By the time he was armored, it was done. How many men they'd lost he'd not know until the sun rose on the morrow, how they'd been attacked though was clear by the sight of the longships that sailed across the lake. They'd snuck up on them while they slept, had done something to their oars so their arrival went undetected. The two attacks had been planned in concert. One to lull them into a false sense of security, the other to inflict as much damage to their forces and their morale as possible.
Something which looking at the men as he passed them was clear had been successful.
It was anger and a desire for vengeance as much as a need to restore his army's confidence in him that led him to Balerion. The need to bring fire and blood to his enemies which he took with him when they were in the sky. Looking down at the lake beneath him and seeing how close the longships were to the Isle of Faces, he found himself thanking Aemon's gods that they'd not made it, nor would they.
"Dracarys," he said and Balerion let loose his flames
The Reach 2 BC.
King Mern Gardner.
The letter had infuriated him before it had then begun to worry him more so. While his sons all preached war, his steward Harlan preached caution. Mern then was forced to step in to stop a fight between his proud sons and Harlan over his perceived, by them, cowardice. Harlan Tyrell though had served Mern faithfully for many years and the last thing the man was, was craven. So despite his sons running down of the threat that Aegon Targaryen's army would pose the Reach, Mern found himself listening more to his steward than them, at first anyway.
He knew though in the end he could not step down and bend the knee to another man. Were he to do so then he may as well allow his head to be removed from his shoulders. If he wasn't prepared to fight for the Reach, then they'd never fight for him again and his position would be untenable. So while he somewhat agreed with Harlan, it was his sons' plans that he knew he'd go with. They just had to come up with better plans than simply, fight and drive Aegon Targaryen back to his pile of rocks should he dare invade.
For days, Mern looked over numbers and marked out which Houses he could truly count on in the fight to come and which he held doubts over. House Oakheart, Rowan Peake, Rewyne, and Florent he knew were all Leal and True. They were the Houses that would seek a fight with or without him and so when he sent for them, he knew they'd come. Other Houses he was not so sure about and chief among them was House Hightower. Manfred would do what the Faith commanded him to do and while that should lead him to his side, Mern wasn't certain it would.
Still, he could call upon more than 30,000 men and close to 5,000 knights, including the Order of the Green Hand. He doubted that Aegon Targaryen could gather more than 5,000 men in total. On paper it was a fight he couldn't lose, battles though weren't fought on paper, mores the pity, he thought grimly. His sons had laughed off Harlan's concern over the dragons, and while Mern wasn't as dismissive as they were, he was still dismissive of their true threat. Especially against such a force that he'd bring to bear. Yet again, something gave him pause. A feeling, a doubt, a worry, Harlan's words, or fear for his sons, something bid him be cautious. Sighing he left his solar and walked through the halls of Highgarden, clearing his mind of everything he could to try and find out what it was that really bothered him. His peace was soon interrupted by the sound of his son and heir's voice and he turned to see Edmund hurrying his way.
"Father, Father, we must speak," Edmund called out and Mern looked back to see how far he was from his solar and then bid his son follow him out into the gardens instead.
It was just the two of them at first, though they were soon joined by his son's guards who stood watch. Mern breathed in the scent of the roses that grew nearby, the fragrance a welcome one to his nose. Holding his hand up when Edmund went to speak, he turned to one of the guards and sent him to tell a servant to bring them some refreshments. Then he bid his son follow him to one of the smaller gardens and to take a seat with him at the outside table.
They'd barely sat down when the food and wine arrived. The cold meats, grapes, and cheese all looked much more appetizing to him as they sat beneath the open sky. He ate heartily and though Edmund seemed keen to speak, his son held his tongue and it allowed Mern to enjoy the brief respite that the food and wine brought to him. Once he was finished, he poured himself another glass of the sweet summer wine, and then and only then, did he bid Edmund share whatever had brought him to him.
"They've landed father, near the Blackwater Rush. The invasion has begun." Edmund said and Mern felt his heart still for a moment before he composed himself.
"Then we have but one choice." he said and his son looked at him eagerly "We call the banners and march to war."
"About that father, I've had a thought that could make our march one even more certain to be a success."
"And that thought was?" he asked curiously.
"We're not the only Kingdom that Aegon Targaryen has threatened father. Those words written in the raven's scroll threatened not just our crown, but others too. Mayhap there are allies we can call upon that are not simply our bannermen." Edmund said and Mern looked at him with some degree of pride.
"Which ally would suit us best, my son?" he asked trying to see if his pride was misplaced.
"The North is full of savages, father, King Torrhen may be somewhat formidable, but we risk losing the Faith were we to seek to ally with him. Dorne and the Stormlands were never our friends and while the enemy of our enemy may join with us, there is no point defeating one enemy only to be stabbed in the back by another." Edmund said and Mern smiled.
"Which leaves the Vale and the Westerlands," he said looking to his son, Mern discounting the Riverlands completely as only a fool would ally with Harren the Black.
"The Vale and we are far too separate, while the thoughts of them marching at Aegon's back and us their front is appealing, it would be far too hard to be sure of our lines of communication and so would be to risk failure. So it's to the West I'd look father, to King Loren Lannister."
"You know what it may cost us, son?" he said staring at his son's expression and happy to see no doubt or dismay in it.
"I shall do all I need to secure our House, father, whatever is requested of me."
Never before had he felt such pride in one of his children. Edmund not only came up with a plan that would secure their throne and their House but he was willing to accept the implications that such an alliance may bring up too. Marriages were how such accords were struck and while he'd not have sought a match with House Lannister for his son and heir, needs must and better a Lannister queen sitting beside his son than Edmund not getting to wear a crown at all.
"Make the approach, my son. Send word to King Loren," he said and Edmund rose and nodded before hurrying off to do what he'd asked.
Mern sat and finished his glass of wine, his eyes drawn to the sky and the bird that was flying overhead. A brief image of dragons doing likewise swept over his mind, before he dismissed it and allowed himself to think on the numbers that the Lannister army would add to his own.
The Wendwater 2 BC.
Orys Baratheon.
He marched with the largest part of their army. Aegon having taken fewer men to face King Harren than he'd given to Orys to face King Argillac. With the addition of the Houses that had bent the knee, he had a sizable force though he knew it would still be lesser than what he'd face. If luck was on his side, it would be twice his number that Argillac could call upon, if it was not, then it would be three times.
Looking off to the distant shape in the sky, he smiled. Meraxes and Queen Rhaenys would more than even those odds, even were he to find no luck on this march. His thoughts turned to Aegon and Visenya. Orys both wished he marched with them and yet happy he was not. He more than anything wished for a victory that was his own, a moment in time where he'd build a legacy for the future House that he'd form. House Baratheon of the Stormlands, a name he'd considered changing but had, in the end, decided not to.
Whatever future he would forge, he'd not let it be a name that defined his house. Nor the actions of a descendant of his many years from now. His future children, his House, all who followed him would remain Leal to the House of his brother by choice. He'd see it marked down and passed from father to son, he'd change his House's fate just as much as Aemon was here to change his own. Looking to the sky, he saw no sign of Rhaenys or Meraxes and yet he worried not. His queen was often found losing herself upon Meraxes back and this was not Dornish lands that they were traveling through. When the time came for that to be what they faced, he'd march with Aemon once more and see Dorne bent, bowed, and broken long before they ever had a chance to take down a dragon.
Shaking these thoughts from his mind, he looked at the river in front of him and sighed. It would take them some time to pass over it and slow down the good progress they'd made today. In this, he turned out to be just as much of a future seer as Aemon was. The going was even harder than he'd imagined and twice he'd had to ride back from the front of the line to hurry things alone. It was his anger and annoyance at the lack of progress the march was making that made him refuse to ride back the third time. Fate, Luck, or the Gods themselves all played a part in mayhap saving his life when the attack came.
"TO ARMS! TO ARMS!"
"AMBUSH!"
"AMBUSH!"
The shouts rang out and took their time to reach him. A rider instead brought him the news long before he heard the cries ringing out amongst their ranks.
"Ambush, my lord, as we crossed the river." the rider said and Orys called for men to ride and ride hard with him.
The scene that faced him when he arrived at the river was one from the seven hells themselves. Men and horses bled out in the water turning it red. Around him, men fought and he removed his greatsword and joined in, taking one fool's head clean off his shoulders as he rode him down. Far too quickly the fight was over. Their attackers had done their damage and in the distance, he could see them fade into the large overgrown forest and he had to fight down his instincts to order his men to chase them down.
As much as this ambush hurt, riding after them would be to ride to their death and Orys cursed them and vowed his revenge. As he helped the wounded, helped fix the carts, and loaded up their supplies, Rhaenys and Meraxes arrived back from their flight. Orys hurried to speak to the queen and to explain what had happened and no sooner had he done so than the queen and the silver dragon were back in the sky. This time he had no need to ponder where the flight would take them
"Her grace?" Lord Darklyn asked when he'd arrived at where mere moments earlier the silver dragon had landed.
"Has gone to right a wrong, Lord Darklyn. Look to the trees and thank whatever gods you believe in that it was Aemon and me who brought you to your knees," he said as the lord did as he bid.
The sight of the silver dragon laying down her flames for true was a majestic one. Trees burned, the men who'd sought the shelter and protection of those trees found none, and the debt owed in blood was repaid. Later that night, men came out of the trees, some bearing burns that were minor, some who'd somehow managed to escape unscathed. All of them now looking to kneel and Orys watched on as Lords Fell and Buckler pledged themselves and their houses to Aegon, Visenya, and Rhaenys and as Rhaenys took their oaths and bid their men join their march.
They'd suffered a big loss today, yet by the end of it had come out with more men than they'd gone into it with. Around him, men looked upon Meraxes with fear and worry, and yet there was something else in their eyes too. They were awed by what Rhaenys and her dragon had done, awed and inspired. When they marched the next day, he could see it clearly and he almost pitied the men that would stand against his army now.
Beyond the Wall 3/2 BC.
The Three-Eyed Raven.
When he felt the change he knew not but never before had he felt magic of the likes that now resided on the other side of the Wall. It made him seek it out, try to find it, and more so, understand it. There was no need for magics of such magnitude to be expelled as of yet. The time had not yet come for the song to be sung. It had not even truly been written as of yet. Was not even a tune at all. True the path that led to it was soon to begin, but when he looked to the future it still began how it always had.
It was as he was seeking out the source of this magic that he found yet another strange thing. A spark, a light, and something long before its time was now moving on his side of the Wall too. A guide, a companion, a trusted friend of the Song of Ice and Fire, one of two that would be bonded to him and help his song be sung. But this should not be, the time was not now, the wolf that ran through the snow-covered grounds did so far too soon.
Fearing that he'd read the future wrong, he turned his eyes away from what lay south of him and to what lay north, finding to his relief that it was as it had been. That what stirred on one side of the Wall had not brought yet a stirring on the other. Once he was sure this was so, it was to the white wolf that he turned his eyes to. Finding it standing out like the brightest star on a dark night. It moved with purpose and try as he might, its mind was closed to him. Closed in a way that he'd never before encountered. A voice that screamed "NO!" was all he'd find when he went looking for the door.
So it was to the sky he took, dark wings following after white fur over lands that led to the Wall and to the lands on the other side of it. He watched as the gate opened to let the white wolf through, something that should not have been done, being done and he knew not why. Then he watched as the white wolf led him to the brightest spark of light he'd ever seen before. The Lightbringer was here. The song that one day the world would need to be sung was not where it needed to be and he knew not why that was.
How long he followed the path and sought the answers to questions he feared had none, he couldn't tell. The children, the gods, the rivers of time, he beseeched all and was shown only the same path he'd seen before. Until the day he was not. The day his mind touched the Lightbringer's own and the dreams they shared brought him the truth of things. A truth that had caused so much magic to be used to change things from coming true. A new path was to be forged and it was one that he had a different role to play in. For no longer was it to sit and watch and not interfere. To remember and not change, instead, certain memories needed to be made more true and remembered more clearly. Not just by him, nor the children, nor the bringer of light, but by the world itself, or else it was doomed to fall once more.
Gulltown 2 BC.
Aemon Targaryen.
After he'd spoken about the attack on Gulltown and brought up what happened to Daemon Velaryon, Aemon had done his best to try and remember as much as he could about the Conquest. Some things were as clear to him as if he'd lived them and not simply been taught of them, while others were very much not. He knew all about the invasion of Dorne, how it stalled and failed and that in the end, they'd conquered it not. That both Rhaenys and Meraxes fell at Hellholt and it led to the Dragon's Wroth.
He had some memory of the Last Storm and the Burning of Harrenhal. The Field of Fire and the Submission of the North. Yet details escaped him and he wondered had he not known of them or worse, were they somehow being blocked from him. Had it not been for the sudden clarity he'd had regarding the Battle for Gulltown, then he'd not have thought the latter to be true. Now he wasn't sure it was not and it made him wonder, who or what was blocking him from such things.
Ever since he'd come back, he'd been sure that he was here to change things. To change fates and see that after the Conquest was done, once the Seven Kingdoms had been forged for true, that his House would be in a stronger position than it had been the first time around. For if he was not here for that, then why was he here? Why would the gods send him here if it was not to change things somehow? Yet if he was here to change things, then why were certain things that he believed he knew, now being withed from him? It bothered him greatly and made the first time they landed a lesser one than it should have been. Visenya's upset went unnoticed for him for far too long because of the thoughts in his head.
"Forgive me," he said softly when he joined her by the two dragons, Ghost by her side as she looked to Vhagar and Rhaegal.
"You seemed lost in thought, I worried it was…"
"No, on us I'm resolved," he said moving to kiss her softly.
"Then what preys on your mind, Aemon?" she asked a moment later, stopping him from kissing her once more.
"I should know more, of what's to come I should know more. I learned of the Conquest when I was a young boy, more so when I learned the truth of myself. Once I knew who I was, I sought as much about our House as I could find out." he said as they moved to sit beside each other by the fire, the pot of rabbit stew nowhere near boiling yet.
"You were not taught of our house growing up?" Visenya asked and Aemon shook his head as Ghost lay down by the fire.
"Somewhat. But not extensively, I believe my uncle feared any interest I showed other than what a boy may, would be dangerous. I knew of The Rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen, of the Young Dragon Daeron, and of Aemon the Dragonknight who so loved his sister that he guarded her and her husband's back and died saving the man he so wished he was." he said and Visenya listened eagerly "But so much was kept from me, not just of one side of my blood, but the other too. I knew little of House Stark as well, for a bastard need not share in the same lessons as a trueborn son."
"Your uncle us lucky he lost his head," Visenya said and then gasped, Aemon shaking his head to let her know he understood her meaning.
"So when the truth was told to me, I learned as much as I could. My granduncle told me some, some I found in books, some from those who were there and had heard the tales from my father or grandmother." he said thinking back to Jaime Lannister among others "Yet now I find some of it is not known to me."
"Mayhap you forgot? You told me the tales of the life you've lived and the things you lost, mayhap tales of a life you did not are lost among them?"
"Mayhap," he said though he felt it untrue.
They ate when the stew was ready, Ghost eating the little they'd left and Aemon was glad he'd brought some food on the dragon for his truest friend as well. After they were done, he caught the way Visenya looked at him and the desire in that look. It was one that he was only too eager to share and so they lay together once more. The guilt he felt about laying with someone that was not Margaery was lessened even more now. Whatever small amount of conflict he had about what they did together and what it meant or how it shamed his wife, had all but been resolved. Which was more than could be said about the guilt he felt regarding Visenya's husband and what they were doing in regards to her own marriage vow.
Still, he slept a peaceful night's sleep and woke up the next morning with Visenya asleep in his arms. He welcomed the feel of her, enjoyed seeing the peaceful and contented look on her face, and was loath to move from her. It took him some time to do so, the need to relieve himself and to ready their meal so they could break their fast and get back to escorting the fleet, eventually giving him the will to do so. They were flying less than two hours later, Ghost in front of him on Rhaegal, and after finding the fleet, they again flew on ahead of them to ensure there were no ships lying in wait. It was as they were flying back to the ships that it happened, the world seeming to go dark and his eyes growing heavy. He felt the invasion into his mind and fought it off as best he could, then he found himself walking lands he knew all too well.
"Our children have the energy of dragons, my love," Margaery called out from behind him as Aemon watched Lyanna and Rhaegar chase each other around their chambers.
"I would have said roses, myself." he said to a slap on his shoulder "What? My wife's mother speaks often of how her precious little rose was a handful growing up," he said as he turned to see Margaery blush.
"My mother is a fool," Margaery said with a giggle.
"I'm sure she'll be most pleased to hear her precious rose name her so." he japed as he barely avoided another slap.
"Rhaegar, Lyanna protect your father from your mother's fierce hands," he said as both his children stopped and looked to see what game their parents were playing.
"No, help mama," Rhaegar said and Aemon almost doubled over when his son ran to stand in front of his mother and laughed at him.
"And what of you, my little dragon? Will you help your papa in his time of need?" he asked lifting up Lyanna and spinning her around much to her delight.
"Always papa, I be brave Wolfdragon just like you."
"I believe that's Dragonwolf, Sweetling," Margaery said and Aemon shook his head.
"Wolfdragon sounds better does it not, Lyanna?"
"WOLFDRAGON PAPA!" Lyanna shouted out loudly.
The sky was blue once more, the ships below them, and turning to look to Visenya and Vhagar it seemed they'd not noticed whatever it was that he'd just gone through. When he looked to Ghost and reached out to first his bond with the wolf and then with Rhaegal, he felt both of them had felt what he had and had liked it not. There was a presence in his head, someone had sought answers from him to what questions he knew not. A part of him feared it was the Night King, that somehow his presence here had awakened his own. Yet both Ghost and Rhaegal showed no fear or worry, just annoyance.
As he saw the other ships come into view, recognized the sails both as being from the Vale and to his surprise Braavos, Aemon tried not to let his mind go to how that day had ended. Yet it was a fight he knew he'd lose and as Rhaegal began to drop lower and Vhagar did the same, the images and words that had been spoken came to him and forced him to live them once more.
"No papa, don't go, please, please…."
"Stay with us, papa, stay with Rhae, Mama, and me."
"No, no…."
With tears in his eyes, memories of the last day he spoke to his wife and children, images of Lyanna's crying face as he marched off to a war that would cost him everything, Aemon felt the fire in him begin to rise.
"Dracarys." he said loudly as Rhaegal answered his call to arms and they brought the fire to the Gulltown fleet.
A/N: Thanks to all who've read and reviewed. Up Next Aegon finds an ally as his march takes him closer to Harrenhal. Aemon and Visenya bring the fire to the Gulltown fleet and force a lord to his knees while Orys and Rhaenys face a Last Storm. In Winterfell, banners are called and options explored and Aemon feels a call that bids him back to the North.
AN2: There are some gaps in the names of certain characters in Fire and Blood, Loren's wife and his children and some of Mern's are known to exist, but unnamed so I took some liberties and named them how I wished. They're not OC's exactly, just the names.
For those who follow my other fics, Last Dragon is up next.
JessicaNightmarewolf: He will, though it's not really shown here, Aemon has changed Aegon's plans for the city and what was more haphazard in how it was begun, is now more planned out, we'll see more of it when the Conquest itself is nearer its end. I think so too regarding the needless deaths, he's not afraid to kill and will do so, but that line he says to Dany when on Dragonstone in the show, about not liking what he's good at, that kind of sums up Jon a lot.
So with Visenya and Aemon I really wanted that, them to be drawn almost willed together, both for this specific timeline and for later ones, I won't spoil too much but what he feels for her is not what he'll feel for someone later on. Oh, Aegon is going to be jealous, just how jealous is the question. Hope this answers your man in the tree question, we'll get more clarity in a bit regarding him, but it's the fact that the future is infringing on the past so to speak that is causing him some concerns.
The thing with Dorne is that their stubbornness really was born at this time, Meria almost invented Unbowed, Unbent, and Unbroken and in canon it took until she'd died for things to somewhat change, and then another hundred or more years for them to really do so.
Zhvorak: They will to some degree, though Jon will still have the scars of the loss of his family, as we see a little here.
: Grazie mille, sono felice che ti sia piaciuto.
Aegon Targaryen17: So very glad you enjoyed it.
Dorodrigo: I won't drag it out too long, we'll see it come to a head quite soon.
Celexys: I wanted it to be quick with them, to make it almost an inevitable thing rather than something that both flittered around the edge of for too many chapters. They were drawn to each other which is important and plays a big part in some of the later installments in the Dragonverse.
Guest: So very glad you enjoyed it.
Dunk: There are some big issues with all four of them to resolve because of the relationship between Aemon/Visenya and the thoughts of a child will be amongst them. On one hand, it would fix things in the future if it was a simple divorce of sorts, no Maegor pushed for the throne, Aegon's children with Rhaenys being the line of succession, etc, but it won't be as simple or as logical as that as feelings will be involved. We'll be seeing Aemon head North again soon, and find out more about the White Wolf prophecy, without giving things away, in Aemon's timeline, it was unknown and never raised, here it'll play a big part not just in this timeline, but in the ones to come. The King's Landing issues are easy enough to resolve if you do so at the start of things, doing so in the Canon timeline would be so much harder. The faith/Maesters don't really come into things until they look to the Reach, though we'll be taking a look at both before then.
Aegor: Dorne especially I hope, the North will be somewhat changed because of Aemon's presence, Dorne will be greatly changed.
Creativo: Mucho, además de su llegada literalmente de la nada y la desconfianza general de Orys. En cierto modo, Orys va a ser como el dicho: Encontramos a nuestros verdaderos amigos en el campo de batalla.
Xan Merrick: Thanks so much my friend, glad you liked it.
Durran: Así que muy contento de que te haya gustado.