Orys and the Conquest of Westeros

The Eyrie

"Who are you?" the young king asks the woman who landed on his balcony. His brother hides behind Ronnel's back, shaking in fear.

"I'm Visenya Targaryen, sister and envoy for Lord Aegon of Dragonstone. I want to invite the King of Mountain and Vale to—"

"Why are you so small?" Ronnel asks.

"And what is she riding, brother?" Jonos asks.

Visenya clenches her teeth. "Her name is—"

"I know, it's a dragon!" Ronnel proudly interrupts, "Just like the ones in the books! You'd know if you actually read, Jonos."

"But it's small and cute, not big and scary. And if it's a dragon, then what is she?"

"Her name is Vhagar, and yes, she's a dragon," Visenya hisses, annoyed at being interrupted twice, "Listen, kids, here's the deal. The Vale will join Aegon's great Westeros alliance, or whatever it's called, and I'll stay here and answer your questions until you're happy. Sounds good?"

Ronnel and Jonos exchange glances. "What does she mean?"

"I don't get it either."

"Alright," Visenya smiles, putting on her sweetest face, "If you agree to pay lip service to my brother— I mean, if you agree to call Aegon the king of Westeros, I'll play with the two of you and... um... make your cakes taste even better with magic."

"You can do that?!" the Arryn brothers exclaim. Visenya nods confidently.

"Deal!" Ronnel doesn't hesitate.

—

Highgarden

"I'm delighted that you've accepted my invitation, King Loren," the Gardener king warmly welcomes his esteemed guest, a smile gracing his lips. "I hope you've enjoyed the gift I presented to you."

"Your generosity in sharing those precious silks with me is truly kind, King Mern," Loren Lannister grins, confirming the rumors of his fascination with clothes and fashion. "A Lannister always repays his debts. What would you like to—"

"—How about we explore the advantages of joining Aegon Targaryen's magnificent Westerosi league?" a voice interrupts. Rhaenys gracefully leaps down from the back of Meraxes, offering a sweet smile to the two kings. "Greetings, Your Graces. I am Rhaenys Targaryen, sister and envoy of Aegon, Lord of Dragonstone. It's an honor to meet both of you."

Loren blinks, taking a moment to process the unexpected arrival. He then turns to Mern with a light-hearted tone, "Oh, is this yet another gift from you? You're truly kind, Mern. They make such an adorable pair."

Mern's mind flutters with a hint of suspicion, tempted to scream 'assassin,' but the harmless demeanor of the peculiar woman and her creature diffuses his doubts. "Um, no," Mern stammers, "This… woman… is not one of mine. In fact, I have no idea who or what she is."

"I am a Valyrian from Dragonstone. Though smaller in stature, my people possess the power of magic…" Rhaenys processes to explain the extent of Valyrian magic, making it sound tempting while exaggerating as little as possible. She has been doing this since she was five, so no matter how outrageous the task is, she will succeed…!

"That sounds fascinating, my dear," Loren coos, "To witness your magic in my realm would be truly extraordinary. However, what would be required of us in exchange for your services?"

With an innocent, wide-eyed smile, Rhaenys prepares for the most challenging aspect of the negotiation. "Simply recognize my brother Aegon as the King of Westeros—nothing more, nothing less. It's as easy as that! You will still retain your titles as the King of the West and the King of the Reach, without any changes."

"King of Westeros? That seems preposterous! Does this Aegon aspire to claim all Seven Kingdoms without an army or a just cause?" Mern blurts out, unable to contain his astonishment. "If he were chosen by the Seven, it would be a different story, but as it stands—"

"I think it sounds good, actually," Loren interjects.

"What?!" Mern's eyes widen in disbelief.

"We gain access to free magic by merely paying lip service to this 'Aegon Targaryen.' The offer couldn't be better... a Lannister knows good business, Mern. Perhaps you'll reconsider as well?"

"Your choice is commendable, King Loren!" Rhaenys beams with delight. "Welcome to King Aegon's esteemed Westerosi league! As an early and courageous ally, you will be entitled to—"

"Lady Rhaenys, would it be possible for your brother to visit the Starry Sept in Oldtown and meet with the High Septon?" Mern swiftly interjects, seeking to regain control of the situation. "If he can earn the blessing of the Seven Who Are One, every soul in Westeros, including myself, would gladly recognize him as the rightful king." But if the High Septon denounces him… hee hee hee, he'll be an enemy of the whole Westeros.

"The Seven…?" Rhaenys contemplates Mern's proposal. It all depends on how confident she is of Aegon's charisma and charm… well. "Sure!"

—

Oldtown

"Lord Aegon, it's a pleasure to finally meet you," the Gardener king says with a thin smile as he extends his welcome to the Targaryens and Orys. His brow raises upon seeing Argella. "Why, isn't that Princess Argella? I wasn't aware that the Stormlands had business with the Targaryens as well."

"I've recently married King Aegon's brother, Orys Baratheon," Argella explains, pulling Orys to the forefront. Orys has long given up on resisting Argella's antics. This woman is now his wife, as unbelievable as it may be, and he knows he won't be able to escape her... and sometimes, in moments of weakness, he wonders why he ever wanted to. If nothing else, she's a good shield against Aegon's craziness... it takes one crazy to defeat another.

Mern frowns. "...Funny how much the world changes in a few short months. I never thought Argilac would give you away while he's still alive."

"Oh, I assure you, he's very reluctant to see me marry." You don't say, Orys thinks while he recalls his disaster of a wedding. "But my father is a man of his word. Besides, with King Aegon's successes, he knows this marriage is of great advantage to the Stormlands. Apart from the Stormlands, the riverlands and the Iron Islands have all submitted to Aegon."

"I believe I taught Harren Hoare a lesson... with his death." Aegon, do you even remember that we're here to convince the High Septon that you're all good and pure and blessed by the Seven? "And King Ronnel and King Loren have agreed to join as well. It's proof that I am the rightful king of Westeros, and the High Septon will certainly recognize me."

Even with Aegon's luck, Orys finds it hard to believe. This is King Mern's suggestion; surely he has pulled some strings to ensure the High Septon won't be charmed by Aegon?

"If you're chosen, the High Septon will see it," Mern says with a thin smile. "Please, come with me."

They enter the Starry Sept, where dragons fly excitedly under the starry ceiling. They seem to have mistaken it for the real sky. "Hey, Balerion, be careful! You'll hit the ceiling!" Aegon giggles, clearly enjoying himself as much as his dragon.

"This Sept is quite beautiful," Rhaenys comments, her fingers reaching for the shiny 'stars' in the ceiling. "I wonder if we could..."

"Please, Rhaenys, don't give Aegon more ideas," Visenya sternly warns. After a moment, she hesitates and adds, "But indeed, it is beautiful. Even more so than the actual sky..."

"What..." a man wearing a crystal crown—presumably the High Septon—stares at them, speechless.

Mern grins. "Your Holiness, they are—"

"Such gracefulness! Such charm! Such beauty... They must have been sent by the Maiden herself, for they radiate innocence and purity!" the High Septon proclaims, and Mern's jaw falls. Orys' eyes are threatening to roll out of his skull. Really? For real?

"They..." Mern sighs deeply. "They are the Targaryens I mentioned to you before."

"Oh yes, allow me to introduce myself," Aegon says, descending from the ceiling after noticing the High Septon. "I am Aegon Targaryen, King of Westeros, here to seek the approval of the Seven for my kingship."

"So you are Aegon, and these ladies must be Visenya and Rhaenys! Such perfection… What nonsense have you fed me with, King Mern!" After alternating between fawning over the Targaryens and berating Mern for several minutes, the High Septon finally says, "Yes, of course you should be the King of Westeros! You must have been sent from the Seven Heavens by the Maiden herself!"

Mern hits himself in his head and Orys feels an overwhelming sympathy towards the Gardener king.

—

Trident

"You... you must be King Aegon," says the panting northman, "I have a message for you. From... my brother, King Torrhen of the North."

"Sending a brother as an ambassador? He's just like me!" Aegon exclaims. Orys smiles wryly.

"So what is the message?" Visenya asks.

"He wants to join the Great Westeros Alliance, or the Great Westerosi League, or whatever you're calling it. It's... true that every other kingdom apart from us and Dorne has already joined, right? Is the news accurate?"

"Indeed it is," Aegon confirms proudly.

"And all we have to do is accept Aegon Targaryen as the King of all Westeros?"

"Yes," Visenya sighs.

"Then the North must join, there's no other way. It's... also true that you wield magic, right? Especially with fertilizing crops?"

"Uh... yes, we can do that," Rhaenys forces out a smile. Orys knows that working in the Reach and nursing the newborn Aenys has really worn her out...

"Then please come help us!" Brandon Snow begs, "We need your help!"

Rhaenys groans. Visenya sighs, "Aegon, do we have to?"

"I know you're tired, sisters, but we can't just turn away people who need our help, this isn't the Valyrian way. Don't worry, I'll help too!" Aegon says encouragingly.

His words are met with two pairs of glaring eyes. "See that you do, Aegon," Visenya huffs, "Because if you don't do it yourself, we won't help either." Rhaenys nods eagerly.

"Have... have some faith in me, Visenya!" Aegon's nervous reaction is a sight to behold, at least.

—

Sunspear

"So, in conclusion, you are the last one, Princess Meria," Aegon says confidently. "Honestly, I'm surprised you haven't approached me yourself, but considering your advanced age, it's understandable, and all is forgiven! Surely you've heard of the various benefits of joining our alliance? Your word is all I need, and it will be done!"

Sitting beside Aegon, Orys winces. Aegon has only grown bolder and more confident during the years, drunk on his various successes. It doesn't make his words any less rude, though. Argella at least possesses the grace not to outright insult someone of equal rank.

"Thankfully, it's only my eyes that are failing me, not my ears," the elderly princess responds slowly, her eyes remaining closed. Despite her old age, wrinkles, and blindness, her voice carries a deep and comforting tone, reminiscent of a bedtime storyteller. It reminds Orys somewhat of Lady Valaena. "Indeed, I have heard of you, Aegon Targaryen. However, I have reservations about the rumors swirling around you. Yet, forgive me if I take a moment to greet my old friend first..."

She coughs and then smiles. "How are you doing, Argella? They say you're married now."

"Married and a mother now, Auntie Meria," Argella chuckles. "I still remember the advice you gave me on how to handle children. It has proven enormously helpful, and I must express my gratitude."

"You have always been a clever child, Argella. The last time I saw you, you were as tall as a pea... Time passes so swiftly! Your child must resemble you, with black hair, sea blue eyes, and lungs strong enough to challenge the heavens."

"All true," Argella giggles. "My father was so proud. He's going to spoil his grandson rotten... and finally leave me to my own devices. I've been eagerly awaiting this day."

"Ah, Argilac is as overbearing as ever, I see. He has always been intense, even in his youth," Meria smiles fondly. "Passionate, stubborn, straightforward... and rude. Your husband is much the same, is he not?"

Uh. "I'm sorry, Your Highness, but have I somehow offended you?" Orys asks, perplexed by Meria's description. "If so, I sincerely apologize. I didn't mean—"

"Ugh... Orys, wait." Argella stops him with a finger. "Auntie Meria, the man you just heard, Orys, is my husband, not Aegon. I could never marry Aegon; he's a Valyrian."

"Ah, so it's true that their stature enchanted the High Septon into appointing the Targaryens as Maiden's Chosen?" Meria's question clarifies everything for Orys. Meria cannot see, so she is unaware that Orys is beside Argella or that Aegon is small. "Valyrians... it seems we are living in an age where long-forgotten myths resurface. I am fortunate to witness it."

"Wait, long-forgotten myth? You've heard of us before, Your Highness?" Visenya asks.

"It's in the records brought by Nymeria. Many years ago, my Rhoynar ancestors encountered a Valyrian when they sailed down to the Smoking Sea. It was said that only they could navigate the Smoking Sea effortlessly, riding dragons and employing magic to enhance their eyesight..."

Meria smiles. "I dare say we possess more records on the Valyrians than the Citadel itself. In other words… King Aegon, if you are indeed a Valyrian, then I am more acquainted with your kind than the kings you have treated with. You may be the ruler of the rest of Westeros, but Dorne wants no part in it."

Orys's eyes widen in astonishment. No one has dared to resist Aegon since King Mern yielded to him, yet it is this gentle, elderly woman who stands her ground.

"Wow," Argella whispers beside him, "this is going to be quite the spectacle." Orys glances at her, and she smirks, arms crossed… She's only here for the drama, isn't she?

"But why?" Aegon asks, his brows furrowed in an offended expression. "What knowledge of the Valyrians could make you reject me? I assure you, any negative information you've come across is simply a misunderstanding. Dorne will prosper with our magic! If you accept our offer, flowers will bloom across the desert."

Upon hearing Aegon's words, Visenya and Rhaenys simultaneously groan. "Aegon, please..."

"That seems like an exaggeration, Your Grace," Meria giggles. "The magic wielded by the Valyrians, as far as I know, is limited in its scope. It may be able to enhance harvests in regular farmland, but transforming deserts into fields of flowers is beyond its capabilities."

Aegon's face flushes with anger. "We can heal your eyes! Balerion, use your restorative power!"

A blast of blue fire emerges from Balerion's throat. Several guards step forward with their spears and swords, but Meria motions for them to stand down. "Don't worry, it doesn't hurt," she says, sighing contentedly. "Your magic is real. My bones, my skin, they all feel its effects… but not my eyes."

For the first time during the meeting, Meria opens her eyes. They are completely white and cloudy. "My eyes have been like this for the past ten years, and I regret to inform you that your magic cannot restore them. There's nothing you can do for me, King Aegon, and therefore, I have no need for you in Dorne."

Aegon pouts, his fingers curling into a fist. "Visenya, let Vhagar try!"

"I already told you, Vhagar has been overworked and must not use magic for the next three months. Remember?"

"Rhaenys!"

"I wish I could assist you, but Meraxes has been doing her utmost to nurse Aenys back to full health, and I can't..."

Tears well up in Aegon's wide-open eyes. "You two are conspiring against me! This is revenge for driving you both to exhaustion, isn't it?! I... I only wanted to... I..."

The two sisters awkwardly avert their gaze.

Stomping on Balerion's back, eliciting a growl from the dragon, Aegon gazes at Orys. "Orys, do you understand? I simply desire the best for all of us!"

"Geez, Aegon, what happened to upholding the dignity of a king?" Orys sighs, tenderly stroking Aegon's hair. A king, a father, it doesn't change Aegon's childish nature. Orys cannot abandon him in distress, despite his disdain for Aegon's particular madness.

"It's not like she can see," Aegon grumbles.

"Oh, but I can hear," Meria interjects, redirecting everyone's attention towards her. "Dorne will not align with you, as I've mentioned, but we can still maintain a form of friendship. Now that the Stormlands and the Reach are under your control, we can enhance our trade without—"

"No," Aegon interjects.

"No?" Meria tilts her head.

"You will join me, or Dorne shall become an adversary to the rest of Westeros." Aegon lifts his chin defiantly, fixing a glare upon Meria. "I have been anointed by the High Septon as the King of Westeros, and that includes Dorne. If you fail to acknowledge this, Princess Meria, then war shall ensue."

"Aegon!" Rhaenys screams, prompting Meraxes to swiftly approach Balerion's side, allowing Rhaenys to grasp Aegon's arm. "What are you—"

"Aegon Targaryen!" Visenya also exclaims, with Vhagar baring her teeth. "Our purpose here is not to declare war! This is a diplomatic mission!"

"I do not care! We have conquered Harren Hoare, so how much harder could it be to subdue Dorne?"

"Harren Hoare was a tyrant and an invader in the Riverlands, whereas the Martells have always led Dorne! Aegon, this is an entirely different situation. You must see reason—"

"You know, I have an idea," Argella suddenly interjects. "How about we turn this into a competition between the Targaryens and Auntie Meria?"

Orys and the Targaryens gaze at her, stunned. Argella winks. "Nobody truly desires war, do they? Instead, let us settle this with a nonviolent competition. If Auntie Meria triumphs, Dorne remains independent. If King Aegon prevails, Dorne shall submit. Simple and effective."

"But... what will they compete in?" Orys ponders, racking his brain for a fair subject, but to no avail.

"If anyone has a suggestion, speak up, and I will consider it." Aegon seems to be of the same mind as him, for once.

"Well," Meria smiles, "You Valyrians possess the charm, and coincidentally, I find myself skilled in the art of seduction. Let us compete in that. King Aegon, I shall grant you three additional days to convince me to change my stance... while I shall attempt to woo one of you to join me instead. How does that sound for a challenge?"

"By 'one of us,' you mean me, Visenya, Rhaenys... and Orys?" Aegon inquires.

"Oh, no, I could hardly try to seduce Argella's husband away from her! I refer to you and your sisters, young man." As Aegon nods, Meria chuckles. "So... may I offer you some Dornish Red first?"

—

Three days later…

"I cannot go on without this any longer!" Rhaenys exclaims, tightly embracing a bottle of Dornish Red. "Apologies, Aegon, but I have discovered my true passion. Henceforth, I shall remain in Dorne."

"And we gladly welcome you, dear Rhaenys!" Meria applauds, her hands coming together. "There are many people here who can benefit from your assistance alongside Meraxes. Naturally, Meraxes will have ample time to rest, and you will have an unlimited supply of Dornish Red."

"You foresaw this turn of events, didn't you?" Orys narrows his eyes, glancing at Argella.

"How could I have known that Auntie Meria possessed records of certain Valyrians being susceptible to various beverages?" Argella shrugs. "No, I simply believe that she will make the most of this situation. And it will undoubtedly be amusing to witness."

"Even if it means losing a dragon to fawn over?"

Argella smiles secretively. "She is, after all, my favorite auntie, so that is not an issue."

Orys sighs.

"You are truly wonderful leader, Princess Meria," Rhaenys smiles dreamily. "Much better than Aegon..."

"I can't argue with that," Visenya whispers, sighing. "It appears that you have lost, brother."

"You cannot say that, Rhaenys!" Aegon cries, his face contorted and his eyes impossibly wide. "I cannot live without you! And... and Aenys! Aenys needs you!"

Rhaenys perks up slightly, her son's name seeming to bring her back to reality. "Oh, Aegon, do not be so sad... you can still visit me whenever you desire, you know. And Aenys as well."

"She speaks the truth, actually," Visenya says, pondering. "Moreover, it might be beneficial for Aenys' well-being to reside in Dorne for a while... perhaps I should bring Maegor along as well—"

"NO ONE else will stay in Dorne!" Aegon explodes in anger.

Well, Orys thinks, I suppose this is Aegon getting his just punishment.

END OF THE CONQUEST ARC