The Stormlands: 284 AC: 1 Week Later:
Bonifer Hasty stood alone in his tent. The harsh rain outside had put his Holy Hundreds' march at a stop, as their horses struggled to traverse the thick mud that filled the road. They had been sent out here by their liege Lord Stannis Baratheon, to end the rampant banditry that had appeared after the rebellion. Bonifer knew that the people committing the robberies and crimes were acting out of desperation initially, but now they were doing it because they enjoyed taking advantage of those who could not defend themselves.
Letting out a heavy sigh as he wiped the small bead of sweat that formed on his brow, he took a peak out from the flaps of his tent to see if the rain had eased. He could see his men's tents lining the road for nearly half a mile, and it was a wonder that those he was after hadn't seen them all yet. After a few more moments, the heavens had relented their downpour. Smiling and offering a silent thanks to the Father above, Bonifer moved back into his tent and began to tie his heavy steel helm around his head.
As he did so, one of his men appeared at the flaps of his tent. "Commander, the rain has ended. Shall we continue our search?" The weary man spoke respectfully.
"It seems it has, my friend. Yes, let us carry on and bring the Father's justice to those that would harm his children." Bonifer chirped, as he pulled a thick purple cloak around his steel breastplate, which had a Seven Pointed star carved into it where his heart was.
The man acknowledged his Commander with a nod and exited his tent. Bonifer trailed behind, his spirits lifted by the sight of the sun breaking through the parting deep grey clouds. He interpreted this as a divine endorsement of his actions, a blessing from the Gods to proceed. As he mounted his deep brown gelding, he observed his men doing likewise with their steeds.
The man across from him drew a concerned look across his face, as he looked at his tent. "Our tents, Commander?" He asked.
Bonifer drew a wry smile across his face before he spoke. "Our camp followers and servants can see to it. We are too close to our bounty to be concerned with it, friend."
The man nodded at his Commander's words and began to ride down the muddy road. Bonifer quickly road ahead to lead his Holy Hundred from the front, as all honorable men should when they are in charge. Bonifer turned to the man next to him, his eyes scanning the glistening wet trees behind him.
"Send scouts ahead. Their camp should not be too far." He commanded, as the man did as he was told, and sent two riders ahead of the Holy Hundred. Bonifer and his men carried on their slow pace down the road before they returned moments later with the news that the bandits had camped down the hill they were facing. Bonifers eyes lit up as he quickly formulated a plan with his men.
They rode to the top of the hill, and after a few minutes, they were in position. The entirety of the Holy Hundred lined up side by side, their banner flying proudly in the late afternoon air. Bonifer looked to the white Seven-Pointed Star that was depicted upon its golden cloth and offered up a silent prayer to the Warrior to keep his men safe in the battle to come. He then turned his attention to the enemy that stood unawares down the hill.
He could see the makeshift tents that they lingered in, and he swore to the Maiden that he could smell the stench of them from the hill that he was waiting on. He could see that there were at least fifty of them. 'Poor souls', he thought. Whilst numerous, these men were no better than common peasants, and he knew they would not be able to stand up to the charge he was about to hit them with. His eyes then turned to another tent, where he saw a man throw a small girl inside. He imagined that there would be hostages, as he knew men such as these were prone to being rapists once they were able to exert their will on people.
Bonifer rode down the line of his soldiers, making sure they were prepared to charge. "We are here to deliver the Father's justice to those who would harm the innocent. May the Warrior strengthen your arms and the Mother protect you!" he proclaimed as he passed by them all.
He could hear the murmurs of agreement coming from his men, as he rejoined the line. He drew his sword and pointed it outwards. "Charge!" He shouted, as all his men followed his lead in doing so.
The clamor of hooves on the hardening mud was overwhelming. Bonifer watched as the bandits below turned in shock and terror at the approach of his men. Some fled, but others stood firm, wielding small axes and swords. 'Fools,' Bonifer mused. He surmised they had never encountered a cavalry charge, judging by their failure to flee at the sight of a hundred warhorses bearing down on them.
The sound of bone breaking and flesh splitting reverberated in the air, as Bonifer and his men slammed into those who attempted to stand against them, their screams filling the air as they did so. Bonifer rode through the ragtag camp, killing any who dared to stand against him. His sword went about its bloody business as he slashed a man's throat, his blood spattering his horse as he rode by. Bonifer stopped at the tent he had seen from the hill that held the small girl, as his men rode by him, killing all who had gone against the laws of the Seven.
Steeling himself for the horrors that he predicated awaiting him, he entered the tent. Inside he found the girl with a knife held against her reddened throat, as small tears streamed down her soft cheeks. Her blonde hair was a mess, and Bonifer took notice of the signs of struggle that were present on her wrists and neck. The man holding the blade looked as though he had seen his fair share of life's difficulties, as the lines on his face were heavy and his grey and black beard was tangled and unkempt.
Bonifer had little care for the man's appearance, as he weighed up his options in this difficult situation that he now found himself in. Holding his sword at arm's length, Bonifer stepped closer to the man who tightened his grip on the knife he held.
"Stop moving or I'll cut her fucking throat." The man ordered Bonifer, who in turn held his ground at the man's words.
"Easy, friend. Let us not do anything we will regret." Bonifer replied, looking at the sniffling girl.
"I want to be let out of here unharmed or I will kill this girl."
"Very well, just let her go and I will let you walk out of here."
"Let her go? So what? You can just run me through? I don't think so. Move out of the way." The man spat, as he pointed his knife towards Bonifer.
The girl quickly took notice of the blade being relieved from her neck, and she stamped on the man's toe as hard as she could. The bandit loosened his grip around the girl, as she squirmed free from his deadly grasp. Bonifer suddenly took advantage of the situation, and he sliced the man's throat open with one slash of his sword, his blood painting the canvas of the tent red. The bandit fell to the ground, clutching his neck as his life spilled out of him, and before long he was dead.
Bonifer wiped the blood from his sword on the clothes of the bloody man and sheathed it. He turned to face the girl who sat whimpering on the ground, unsure if Bonifer was like the men who had captured her. He offered out his hand, as she winced at the sight of it.
"Be not afraid, girl. I mean you no harm." He smiled as warmly as he could.
Taking a chance, the girl took his hand as he helped her to her feet. He noticed how she struggled to walk, and so he carried her in his arms as a father does to his child.
"Did they hurt you?" Bonifer asked.
The girl slowly nodded in reply, the sadness and fear in her pale blue eyes showing the torment she had been through.
"We have a Maester with us at our camp. He can see to your injuries." Bonifer assured as they left the tent where that ungodly scene had unfolded.
Varys watched on from the treeline as Bonifer and his Holy Hundred finished cutting down all those that stood before them. He found it slightly ironic and amusing that such pious men were capable of such bloody and vicious acts. However, he should not be surprised, as the Gods have spilled more blood than anyone else combined. His eyes scanned the massacre that had just unfolded until he saw Bonifer emerge from a large tent with a girl who looked to be no older than nine name-days, in his arms.
The Spider smiled when he saw Bonifer hand her off to one of his men, presumably for her to be cared for and cleansed from whatever horrors had befallen her at the hands of these brigands. Varys noticed how pale she looked in comparison to Bonifer, who held a distraught look on his usually stoic face. Varys watched as Bonifer removed his helm and sat down outside of the tent he was just in, as he rubbed his face and eyes.
Deciding it was the perfect time to move, Varys rode from the treeline that he had been skulking in and made his way toward the remains of the bandit camp. As he approached, some of Bonifer's men quickly made their way to him with their swords drawn. Varys removed his hood and explained to them who he was and that he was there to see their Commander. The men decided he was telling the truth due to knowing Bonifer's name, and they led Varys to him.
"Commander. This one here has come to see you." One of the men said as Bonifer looked up to see the bald Eunuch smiling smugly above him on his horse.
"Varys? By the Father, what are you doing here?" Bonifer questioned, remembering Varys from his time serving under Lord Merryweather in King's Landing.
"A pleasure to see you again, Ser Bonifer." Varys smiled, as he dismounted his horse. "Is there somewhere more private we can speak?" He asked.
"Why? You bring terrible news from the Stranger?"
"Quite the opposite actually, Ser."
Bonifer drew a slightly amused look across his face and indulged his curiosity by leading Varys into the tent where he had only moments ago killed the bandit who held the girl hostage. Varys looked disgusted at the sight as he entered the tent, marking well how dangerous men like Bonifer could be despite all their parading about religion.
"Sorry about the mess, Lord Varys." Bonifer began, turning to face the Spider who stood some feet away from him. "So, what is this news you bring." He queried.
"I won't play games with you, Bonifer. I have received a letter from Rhaella Targaryen." Varys smirked.
"Wha...Impossible...You are with Robert." Bonifer stammered as he drew his sword. "Is this some trick? A jest to uncover traitors?" He spat, as he pointed his blade towards Varys.
"I assure you, Ser, this is not a trick. Here." Varys assured as he tossed the scroll hidden in his cloak towards the unmoving knight.
Bonifer grabbed the parchment with haste and read it eagerly. He dropped his sword upon reading the words within the scroll, as his eyes looked toward the Eunuch.
"Has the Maiden truly blessed me this day? Are these words true?" Bonfier asked.
"They are, Ser. She wants you to come to her."
"How...Roberts men are everywhere and I am sworn to Stannis."
"Remember who you were loyal to first, Ser Bonifer."
"I do...I do." Bonifer stood still for a moment and ran his hands through his graying hair, before speaking again. "May the Gods have mercy on me, where is she?"
"Pentos, Ser. She is safe and housed by a good friend of mine, Illyrio Mopatis."
"How will I even get there?"
"My suggestion would be to make way for Dorne and then Sunspear. Anywhere else would draw too much attention."
"And the Dornish wouldn't be suspicious that a hundred men are making their way to Essos?" Bonifer asked, as he picked up his sword and sheathed it.
"They may be, but I assure you, they will not tell Robert or his underlings."
"Why? They bent the knee, no?"
"They did like us all, but there are bigger things afoot here, Ser. Once you get to Pentos it will become much clearer. I am only asking you to trust me"
"Very well, Varys. I trust you, as I would the Father."
Varys grinned at the holy knight's farewell. Swiftly departing the tent, he navigated through the ravaged camp. It was crucial to return to King's Landing promptly to avoid arousing suspicion. The momentum was building, and Varys's excitement was palpable. It was time to focus on recruiting additional allies, and he knew precisely where to turn his attention next.
Bonifer watched the Spider ride away from the camp. Slightly baffled by what had just unfolded, he read the words of his beloved once more before tucking the scroll tightly between his breastplate and black leather shirt. Some of his men were asking him what had just transpired between them in the tent, as Bonifer mounted his horse once more.
"Men! We have new orders!" Bonifer shouted, as his men started to gather around him.
"From Stannis, Commander?" One of them asked.
"No. From Queen Rhaella Targaryen." Bonifer confirmed. He could hear the murmurs of discussion in the group before him before he spoke again. "This is the path the Gods have set out for me and I will not begrudge any of you if you wish to remain here in the service of Stannis."
The men drew quiet for a moment before one of them spoke up. "We follow where you go, Commander!" He yelled, drawing his sword and raising it high in the air. The rest of the Holy Hundred did the same and the cheers were as loud as anything Bonifer had heard before.
Bonifer smiled at his men and silently offered a prayer to the Gods, thankful for his men's loyalty. Soon after, they had collected their supplies, dismantled their camp, and set off for Dorne. For the first time in years, Bonifer felt a sense of completeness, and butterflies fluttered in his stomach at the prospect of seeing Rhaella again. His mind turned to the preparations for Dorne, and he hoped that the Martells would be receptive towards him and his Holy Hundred, but he wondered why Varys had assured him he wouldn't be accosted at all.
King's Landing: 284 AC: 4 Days Later:
Jon Arryn left his wheelhouse outside of the Red Keep. Thankful to be out of that dusty hell they call Dorne, he breathed in the fresh air of King's Landing and despite the smell of shit, it was still better than Dorne in his humble opinion. Making his way into the Red Keep, he was eager to report to Robert that his work in Dorne had been a success and that the Martells would not be a thorn in his side for the foreseeable future.
Jon found Robert half-awake in his bedchambers, entertaining two whores. The sun beamed through the half drawn drapes as the damp smell of flesh and sex permeated the air and Jon let out a heavy sigh at the sight of the King making a mockery of himself, but he wouldn't be the first or last monarch to bed those beneath him. Robert himself was slightly surprised to see his Hand enter, and he promptly threw the whores out without paying them anything. Jon mused being able to fuck a King was payment enough.
"Please put something on, Robert." Jon scoffed, as he watched Robert pull on some drawers to cover his most delicate of parts.
"I had not expected to see you back so soon, Jon." Robert chuckled, as he moved his half-naked form over to the corner of the room to pour himself some wine.
"And I had not expected to see you in bed with whores."
Robert turned and scowled at the old man who had taught him so much. "I am the King and I can do as I like, Jon, and I don't need any more lessons from you."
"You are married now, Robert. Does your wife not satisfy you?"
"Oh she's a pretty one, of course, but she's been distant with me ever since our wedding night. I have bedded her a few times since then, as is my right."
"Very well, but-"
"She's with child." Robert monotoned, interrupting Jon.
"She's with child?" Jon asked.
"That's what I just said, isn't it?"
"Well I am happy for you, Robert." Jon smiled, as he took notice of the bored expression on Robert's tired face. "Are you not happy?"
"I am, yes. However, I do not think I am cut out to be a father." Robert admitted.
"Ah, well, just be there for the child as I was with you and everything will work out fine. Besides, it secures your rule more than anything."
"I suppose you're right, Jon."
"Have you told the Realm yet?" Jon asked.
"No. I am not planning it until the signs are more significant. Pycelle only told me a few days ago."
"Very well, Robert. In regards to Dorne, I have fanned the flames of insurrection and brought about a peace that should last."
"If you say so."
Before, Jon could say anything else, Cersei Lannister entered the room, shoving past Jon Arryn in doing so. The look of disgust on her usually pristine face was something to behold, as she moved to drink some wine. Robert looked at her with a disinterested look, and if it wasn't for her beauty, Robert may well not talk to her at all.
"And here is my lovely wife. In a talking mood today?" Robert half-jested, as his wife looked at him with venom in her eyes.
"I am, as it seems. Tell me, dear husband, were there whores in here?" Cersei asked, a sarcastic smile appearing on her face.
Robert seemed to ball his fists up at her words, as his rage descended upon him. "Seeing as my wife will not give me satisfaction, it seems I must find it elsewhere," Robert spoke through gritted teeth.
Cersei sipped her wine and turned her gaze upon Jon who stood at the door with a concerned look on his face. "Tell me, my Lord Hand, is it befitting of a King to fuck whores in his bedchambers?"
Robert answered for Jon before he could speak himself. "Tell me, Jon. Should a Queen constantly ignore her King when it does and does not suit her?"
"Well, I do not-" Jon stammered, before being interrupted again by Cersei.
"I am carrying your child, Robert. Why don't you respect me by not whispering that dead Stark bitches name in my ear every night?"
Robert angrily threw his glass against the wall at Cersei's disparaging of Lyanna. "Out, damn you, out!" He yelled, as Cersei happily walked out of the room, shoving past Jon Arryn once again.
Jon looked on in shock as to what had just occurred before him. A loveless marriage was one thing but a marriage where the couple constantly worked to spite one another was most disastrous. He knew he needed to find a way to reconcile the two, to ensure the Realm was stable and not marred by their petty issues. If only Robert could let go of the ghost of Lyanna Stark, his job would be much easier but he did not incline where to start with such a difficult subject.
Robert looked at Jon with anger in his eyes. "Why I let you convince me to marry such a loathsome woman, I do not know. Her father hates me, her brother has run off to support my enemies and now she insults me wherever I go." Robert spat.
"Robert-" Jon attempted to speak again but was cut off once more.
"Enough, Jon. Leave me."
Jon did as he was bid and walked from the king's bedchambers. He found his steps heavy as he walked and a cold sweat formed on his ageing back. For the first time, he felt his grip upon Robert slipping and it was a feeling that he was relishing. He had to find a way to control the man no matter the cost, as he knew Robert in his anger would bleed the Realm and him if he was not careful.
Pentos: 284 AC: 1 Week Later:
Arthur sat next to Rhaella in Aemon's chambers, where the boy was sleeping soundly as he cradled his midnight black dragon egg. The scent of lavender from the candles Illyrio had brought permeated the room which was softly illuminated by their dim light. Outside, the moonlight filtered through the sheer maroon drapes, casting a silver glow on the balcony. Arthur glanced at Rhaella, who was engrossed in a book that appeared to be written in Valyrian, while she intermittently gazed at the deep red dragon egg nestled in the fireplace.
When he first saw the egg that Rhaella brought Viserys, he was stunned into silence to learn that Illyrio had found more from Gods know where. He recalled Barristan talking of Asshai but he could hardly believe anyone would travel that far in search of the myths and rumors that dragon eggs were. However, when Arthur saw one of the surviving crewmen from the voyage, he looked as though his soul had been stolen as his sunken eyes avoided the Sword of the Morning when he shuffled past him one night. Arthur hated to imagine what horrors they faced in that desolate place.
Arthur shook his head in an attempt to remove the image of the hollow man, as he turned his attention back to the Queen who was still enveloped in her book. She had been spending the last week reading tome after tome on dragonlore, in an attempt to find any definite way in bringing them back to life. Arthur was slightly amused by it all, as he doubted the Valyrians would have written about bringing them back to life as they may not have thought they would've gone extinct in the first place. Still, he admired Rhaella's persistence as she had found that you needed to keep them warm which is why she kept her egg in the fireplace, resting on the hot coals.
Arthur let out a sigh as he stood up and walked around the room, drawing Rhaella's violet eyes to him. "What is it, Arthur?" She asked, a small smirk appearing on her face at her knight's apparent boredom.
Arthur leaned against the wall next to the fireplace, his strong arms crossing across his chest as his deep blue eyes looked at the egg. "It's nothing, Rhaella." He half-smiled at his Queen.
"I have children, Arthur, I can tell when there's something wrong." She sighed, as her eyes returned to the pages of her book.
"Well, I just wonder if it's even possible."
"To bring them back? I do too, but to have a chance to win back the throne for him, we must try." She affirmed, looking over to Aemon who barely stirred at the noise of their conversation as he held his black egg close to him.
"If you say so, my Queen," Arthur said, as began to pace around the room. He removed the Valyrian steel dagger from his belt. The same blade that he gathered from the corpse of the young assassin all those days ago. He always felt that there was something strange held within the blade itself, but when he asked Rhaella, she told him that she had never seen its likeness before. He twirled it around in his fingers as he looked upon it. He could have sworn that every time the light caught it a certain way something strange would appear before him. Symbols that he could not make sense of.
"Do you see that?" He asked, looking towards Rhaella.
"See what, Arthur?" She sighed, looking up from her book.
"Those symbols." Arthur concentrated further and began to discover they looked like the letters found in the book Rhaella was reading. "Is it Valyrian?" He whispered to himself.
Rhaella closed her book and looked at the wall where the faint bodies of reflected light were branded. Her eyes widened in surprise as she took in the sight. Placing the book on the ground beside her, she briskly stood up and walked to stand beside Arthur. Her violet eyes scanned the letters and words that seemed to appear and disappear at a moment's notice.
"By the blood, I can see faint letters." Rhaella gasped.
"You see them? This is what I was trying to tell you." Arthur chuckled.
"It's still too faint to make anything out of them though." Rhaella placed a soft hand on her cheek as she pondered on what to do. Her eyes lit up as she looked toward the blazing fireplace. "Give me it, Arthur." She ordered, holding out her hand.
Arthur placed the blade in her hand and he watched as she gracefully moved to the fireplace. She placed the dagger at the bottom of the fire, where the handle was still easily accessible. Moving away from it, she stood and watched as the dagger began to turn yellow and red. Arthur stood by her side and watched with growing curiosity. Perhaps, this dagger held information that pertained to raising the dragons from the dead or maybe it held Valyrian secrets that hadn't been heard for generations.
After some time, Rhaella removed the dagger from the flames and read the words that were now as clear as daylight to her. "From my blood will come the Prince that was Promised, and his will be the song of ice and fire."
"The Prince that was Promised? Is it talking about Aemon?" Arthur asked, his face full of confusion.
"I believe so, Arthur. It is the prophecy that my Grandfather spoke of when we were children. I never imagined that Aegon would have it hidden within a blade."
"Perhaps it was meant to be passed down from father to son," Arthur suggested, as he folded his arms once more.
"Perhaps..."
Before any more words could be spoken between them, the fireplace began to bellow and crack violently. Its flames seemed to smoother the egg and they licked the wall above it, leaving deep black scorch marks. Arthur moved Rhaella away from the erupting flames to protect her, as he watched on in bewilderment as to what was happening.
"What is happening? Is it something to do with the dagger?" He asked as the flames grew larger. The heat coming from the flames was immense and they grew larger. He worried that the room itself would begin to burn down and he started to move towards the still-sleeping Aemon to grab him in case things got worse.
Before he could enact his plan, the flames suddenly became quiet and subdued. Rhaella gasped and grabbed Arthur's arm, as she pointed towards the calming fire. Arthur's heart stilled and his mouth was agape as what looked like a small bird of some origin. Arthur could not make it out as clear as he would've liked as the creature was covered in soot and black smoke.
"Impossible..." Rhaella mumbled, her violet eyes staring at the thing intently.
As the smoke disappeared and the soot fell from the creature, Arthur and Rhaella caught their first glimpse of the impossible. The thing chirped and crawled towards Arthur and Rhaella, unfurling small dark red wings and for the first time in hundreds of years, the night was alive with the music of dragons.
Arthur stood still staring at the beast, as it made its way towards Rhaella, who was now on her knees, her arms held out towards it. Arthur took a step back, his hands on the back of his head as he stared at the beast which now crawled up Rhaella's arms.
"Had I not seen it with my own eyes..." Arthur whispered, as his mouth was still agape.
"Is it not beautiful, Arthur?" Rhaella smiled. "Finally, after so long, they have returned." She continued, as the dragon chirped and screeched in her arms. The dragon was no bigger than a cat or a large rat, yet it was as majestic as the setting sun on the sea.
"My Queen...I do not know what to say." Arthur stammered, still unable to process what he was witnessing.
Rhaella carried on smiling as Aemon began to stir from his sleep. The boy King stretched his arms out and yawned as if waking just to see the newborn dragon. His grey eyes opened to find Rhaella sitting beside him, her arms full of fire made flesh as it crawled slowly toward Aemon. The child giggled and gently ran his hand down its red scales, the dragon almost purring in response. The dragon itself moved to nuzzle up against the black egg, almost as if it was willing the egg to come to life.
"It will need a name, Rhaella," Arthur interjected.
"I have never even begun to think of a name...I had not thought this day possible." She chuckled, her soft hands gently caressing the back of her dragon.
"Perhaps a name from your family or history, Rhaella," Arthur suggested, as he sat down on the end of the bed and let out a heavy breath of relief.
"I like Vēdros." She smirked, as her gaze turned towards Arthur.
"What does that mean, Rhaella?"
"Anger." Rhaella grinned.
Despite her outward appearance, Arthur could for the first time see the hate and fury in her usually calm eyes. Arthur knew that this dragon would be used to bring fire and blood to all those who took so much from Rhaella and her family. The same people that now forced them to live as exiles and not in their rightful place on the throne would soon be facing the fury of a dragon and its furious rider.
A/N: Thanks for reading. Sorry it took me a few days to finish this chapter, I have been procrastinating like crazy. Anyway, hope you enjoy and the next chapter should be done by next week. Many thanks.