Orys and the Parley of Harrenhal
"You," King Argilac points a finger at Orys' face with a sharp, deadly gaze. "You wish to marry my daughter?"
I don't, Orys wants to say, but Argella is holding his hand tightly under her sleeves, crushing his fingers. He is certain she'll break them if he doesn't respond the way she wants. "Yes, Your Grace," he answers reluctantly.
The king's nose flares with anger, his eyes filled with fury. "And you want me to ally with this little... little…"
"Lord Aegon Targaryen of Dragonstone, your Grace." Aegon chirps in, oblivious to the danger they face. Orys cringes at his cheerful tone. Just once, he wishes Aegon can just stop smiling.
"...lordling," Argilac sneers, "to fight against Harren Hoare."
"And with your help, we can unite the Seven Kingdoms and form an empire that will last for generations. Isn't that splendid?" Aegon beams.
Argilac growls, "I should have both of your heads! Cut off your hands and feed them to my hounds! This is ridiculous. What do I get out of this? Nothing! I invite you into my house, feed and clothe you, and you deceive me and attempt to steal my daughter away…"
Argella steps forward and places her hand on Argilac's, saying, "Father, I'm right here. Nobody can steal me away." She smiles sweetly and adds, "Don't worry."
Argilac's anger dissolves as he coos over his daughter, a smile spreading across his face. "Sweetie, my precious treasure, you always know what's best. What punishment do you want for these two? Shall we hang them, quarter them, or feed them to the hounds?"
Orys cringes inwardly. He realizes Argella probably won't punish them, but the thought of putting his and Aegon's lives in her hands is disturbing.
"Why not let them make themselves useful, father?" Argella smirks. "We shall parley with the Hoares and warn them from targeting Durrandon lands before they could act. They can be content with the Iron Islands and the riverlands or get chased back into the sea like the Ironborn they are."
Argilac frowns. "Parley with Harren? What reason will he have to talk to us, sweetie?"
"He might not be willing to call for one, but if we request a meeting with him, I can't see why he'll decline. After all, he wants me for one of his sons, doesn't he?" Argella explains, flicking her long, straight hair. "For us, it'll be a show of force. And as meagre as Lord Aegon's force might be, they can still be an asset in the parley. It'll signal that the narrow sea lords have had enough of Harren Hoare's rule, at the very least."
"Harren Hoare will be impressed by me and my dragons, I assure you, King Argilac," Aegon says, bowing with a flourish, while Balerion snorts proudly. Orys lacks the confidence of either of them. "Words are cheap. I shall prove my might by keeping the Hoares in check. After Harren Hoare has been intimidated by my master diplomacy, would you reconsider my offer of alliance?"
Argilac crackles, "You use a lot of big words, tiny lording. How about this? If you and your dragon manage to kick Harren out of the riverlands, I won't only ally with you - I'll make you a king as well, with your own kingdom..."
"Very generous of you, King Argilac!" Aegon beams.
"...That is, if you succeed," Argilac's wrinkled face turns sly. "If you don't, I'll offer you and your islands to Harren as a gift for peace."
"Deal!" Aegon replies without hesitation. Orys widens his eyes.
We're so doomed.
—
Months later, in Harrenhal…
"Welcome to my humble halls, Argilac," Harren Hoare greets, extending one arm over the main hall of the castle, which is at least thrice the size of Storm End. "I believe it is your first time visiting us since Harrenhal is completed, and Argella as well. The rumours of your beauty are not exaggerated."
"I hope that you'll find my strength and intelligence pleasing as well, King Harren." Argella smiles like a cat, and only Orys can see the cruelty beneath her politeness. She won't hesitate to have them all drowned if it serves her purposes. Harren Hoare, with his crooked teeth, wild moustache, and cane, appears to be just an old man. However, his sharp, cold gaze suggests that he would order their deaths without hesitation whenever it is convenient, just like Argella. Orys wishes he could go home.
"Come on, brother, relax. Everything is going according to plan," Aegon whispers to him.
"What part of the plan said that we would be at the back of King Argilac's retinue, waiting to be offered as sacrifices?" Orys retorts, sounding bitter. "I don't know why you think you can win over Harren Hoare. You can't even see him, but he appears less friendly than King Argilac, who threatened to feed us to his hounds."
They— Orys, Aegon, and Balerion— are currently standing near the entrance of the hall, Orys' view obscured by the wall of people in front of him, while Aegon and Balerion stay inside the basket Orys holds. It's Argella's idea to "surprise" Harren Hoare— Orys thinks it's a plot to reduce Aegon's mobility.
"We won over Princess Argella, didn't we?" Aegon's tone is confident. "Harren will be charmed, or he will be destroyed."
"…I see no means for us to do the latter." Visenya and Rhaenys aren't even with them— Aegon sent them to the Vale and the Reach, respectively. Orys desperately hopes they're around to keep Aegon in check, but Aegon is incredibly stubborn in insisting that he doesn't need help.
If Orys has learned anything after growing up with the Targaryens, it's that you can't rely on Aegon.
"…I didn't say that any of your spawns will get to marry my Argella, so step away from her, Harren!" King Argilac growls, the Stag's howl breaking Orys' thoughts.
"Pff. It's not like I want her for myself, you needn't worry," Harren chuckles, tapping the ground lightly with his cane, "Not that Argella isn't a prize, but my appetite for women isn't like the good old days anymore!"
Looking around, he adds, "Anyway… where's the dragon you promised to show me? I'm rather tempted to call you a liar, given that a dragon will be hard to hide, but I'd love to imagine that my old friend hasn't gone senile and come here without planning to offer me something worthwhile."
"Don't you dare insult me, Harren Hoare. The dragon is here." Argilac turns and calls, "Orys!"
Orys flinches as he reluctantly steps forward, shifting Aegon's basket awkwardly with every step. Argilac's retainers move aside to clear a path, amusement etched on their faces. They all know they are doomed, and the thought of dying at the hands of the Ironborns terrifies Orys.
"Is this your dragon?" Harren raises an eyebrow and glances at Orys, his expression contorted. "I was joking when I said you're going senile, Argilac."
Ignoring Harren's remark, Argilac turns to Orys and demands, "Open the basket."
With little hope left, Orys does as he is told. As soon as he removes the cover, Aegon's head pops up from the opening. "I am Aegon Targaryen, THE DRAGON!" he declares.
Orys punches himself in the forehead, hoping to wake up from this nightmare. Balerion takes flight and hovers in the air.
"Isn't he adorable?" Argella comments, her eyes fixated on Balerion. If you haven't noticed, we're in bloody danger here!
Harren's mouth falls open, speechless, as he shivers with laughter. "Oh, Argilac. How did you manage to find this treasure?"
Argilac huffs in response, "The 'treasure' fell into my lap. Are you impressed now, Harren?"
Harren Hoare narrows his eyes, scrutinizing Aegon and Balerion. He crosses his arms and lets out a sigh. "You didn't lie, Argilac. This is a dragon, but it's… disappointing. When you mentioned that you have a dragon in your letter, I expected something more… majestic. Grand. A fearsome beast that can dwarf my castle. This is just a fancy pet."
Balerion growls in offence at Harren's words, and Aegon yells indignantly, "Balerion is not a pet! He's older than all of us, and if you don't show him respect, he'll burn you!"
"Oh, right, this one can talk," Harren remains unbothered by Balerion's fury and kneels down slightly to Aegon's eye level. "So, aside from being the dragon's companion, who are you?" he asks.
"I'm Aegon Targaryen, Lord of Dragonstone, Protector of the Narrow Sea, the Last Dragonlord, the Heir of Valyria, rider of the biggest dragon in the world, the mighty Balerion!" Aegon declares, clenching his fists. "King Harren Hoare, tales of your cruelty have spread throughout the Seven Kingdoms, and this castle stands as proof of your tyranny! I demand that you put an end to your tyrannical rule of the riverlands, bend the knee to me, and return to the Iron Islands!"
Aegon pulls out Blackfyre and points it at Harren's face. "I swear on the honour of all my ancestors that if you do not comply, I will destroy you!"
"What the heck?" Orys whispers. Aegon is putting on his most regal facade, carrying an air of authority, but it doesn't make his words less ridiculous. Which part of this castle proves that Harren is a tyrant? Demanding that he bends the knee for Aegon over essentially nothing?
And what happened to the plan of charming Harren, Aegon?
Harren Hoare widens his eyes, clutching his cane as he takes a step back from Aegon and Balerion. "Destroy me? With what, your tongue?"
Aegon counters confidently, "With my sword, Blackfyre, and my dragon, Balerion." His gaze is unwavering.
Glaring at each other, none of them mutters a word. The atmosphere is thick and tense, though Orys can only think of running away. Harren Hoare is going to order them all killed in three… two… one…
Suddenly, Argella's laughter rings out, breaking the tension. "King Harren, you have already lost."
"How so?" Harren demands angrily.
"Can't you see that Aegon is more imposing than you? You spent your whole life trying to appear grand and majestic, building the largest castle in Westeros. But here, a small lord manages to outshine you. Well, a small lord and his dragon." Argella smiles, "The dragon is the more important part to me."
With a roar, Harren points at Aegon with his cane, "Get him, boys!"
Harren's sons rush forward to capture Aegon, but Balerion takes to the air, soaring high above the castle's towering ceilings.
"I said I would destroy you, Harren Hoare!" Aegon shouts, brandishing Blackfyre wildly and slicing off strips of hair from the Hoare boys. Harren growls, lifting his cane to strike at Balerion.
Then it happens.
"Dracarys!" Aegon cries, and Balerion obeys with enthusiasm. The dragon's fiery breath engulfs Harren, transforming him into a burning fireball as his screams resonate throughout the hall.
"Father!" Harren's sons are left trembling with terror, too afraid to approach the burning inferno that was once their father. In no time at all, all that remains of Harren is his skeleton, twisted into a haunting grin in the aftermath of his demise.
"…It's like the legend of Daenys the Charmer, who vanquished the Dragonstone tyrant." Orys murmurs to himself. He's never witnessed someone meet their end through dragon fire before, always having thought of the majestic creatures as agents of healing rather than destruction.
But with Balerion's actions, Orys is proven wrong.
"Rest in peace, Harren... may you continue to boast and construct grandiose castles in the halls of your Drowned Gods." King Argilac approaches the remains of his adversary and offers his respects. After a moment of silence, he turns to Aegon and admits, "Aegon Targaryen, I underestimated you."
Aegon chuckles and replies, "That's to be expected. You will, of course, honour your end of our agreement, correct?"
"Indeed," Argilac responds, sounding regretful. Argella prods him, and he sighs. "Aegon Targaryen, Lord of Dragonstone, I hereby declare you the king of the riverlands—"
Suddenly, one of Harren's sons interrupts, objecting to Argilac's declaration. "Argilac Durrandon, what gives you the right to proclaim the King of the riverlands in my father's castle? This... this invader violated the guest right and killed my father during a peace negotiation! He and his monstrous dragon should be put to death immediately!"
Argella interjects, "As I recall, it was Harren who ordered Aegon's execution in front of all of us."
"That's because he pointed a sword at my father's throat!"
"I didn't see any sword. Did you? Did anyone?" Argella counters, surveying the hall. The river lords shake their heads, amusement playing on their faces.
"Aegon Targaryen freed us from the tyrannical Hoares! He shall be our king, and the riverlands will never suffer under Ironborn rule again!" a redhead lord cried, a statement that meets the furious agreement of his fellow River Lords.
"Wait… but…" Harren's sons and the few remaining Ironborns frantically look around, but the tide has turned against them. Balerion roars and swoops towards them, causing them to scatter and flee.
"Return home and hold a kingsmoot, as you Ironborns prefer. Then, tell the victor to come and swear fealty to me!" Aegon calls behind them, clapping happily. Turning back to Orys, he smiles, "It turned out just as I said, brother."
Orys smiles wryly. Yes, it turned out well. But…
"Why didn't the Ironborn use their archers to shoot down Balerion? Surely, they must have archers among their ranks?"
Aegon blinks. Then, he shrugs.
"Who knows? Perhaps all their archers were intimidated by Balerion's power."
"That must be it," Argella says, beaming at Balerion. Orys sighs.
Sometimes he feels like he's the only sane man around. When are Visenya and Rhaenys coming back?