Dorne: 298 AC: 2 Days Later:
Viserys Targaryen
The humid Dornish air blew through Viserys' silver hair as his eyes narrowed in on what he had been seeking. From high above, he could see the golden hues of Sunspear, a city that stands as a testament to Dorne's resilience and beauty. The imposing Spear Tower looms large, symbolizing the Martell family's strength. His dragon beneath him seemed to match the golden rays of the setting sun as Clouddiver's scales reflected the light like a polished sword. Behind him, sat Barristan Selmy, the aging knight holding on to the waist of Viserys as hard as he could, evidently not used to riding a dragon just yet.
As he drew closer, he mused on what he must look like to the people down in the city. He imagined he invoked the same dread Rhaenys did when she first came to Dorne on the back of Meraxes, except there would be no scorpion bolt to kill him as one killed her, he hoped. As he circled the royal palace of Sunspear, his lilac eyes became set on a large courtyard that dominated the center of it. It was there that he chose to land and as he drew closer to it, Clouddiver let out an earth-shattering roar. If the Martell's didn't know he was here already, they certainly did now.
Clouddiver landed in the courtyard with gentle grace, the beat of his wings upturning the furniture and planters that had been placed there as he did so. Viserys smiled and jumped off the back of Clouddiver and waited, his arms folding as he did so. He smiled to himself as he wondered if this was what his mother had meant when she told him to appear legitimate. Behind him, Barristan jumped off the back of Clouddiver, an audible pained groan coming from his mouth as he did so.
"I wish you weren't so aggressive when flying, my Prince." Barristan groaned as he dusted off his armor and stood at the side of Viserys.
Viserys turned his head and offered an apologetic smile to the old knight. "We still have to go back Barristan, so you best prepare yourself for when we do."
Barristan chuckled, as he laid a resting hand on his sword, his eyes once more turning to Viserys. "Are you sure this was the wisest of entrances?" He asked as he looked around the courtyard and found it devoid of any souls.
"Perhaps. We'll find out soon enough, my friend." Viserys smiled, his lilac eyes looking toward the entrance of the courtyard. "Here they come."
Barristan turned to see an enormous group of armed men and household guards led by none other than Oberyn Martell himself, their faces brimmed with displeasure and grim determination to kill whatever or whoever had invaded their home. However, Barristan's eyes were set on another figure. One that was in some sort of wooden wheeled chair and as it came closer, Barristan could make out the face of Doran Martell. It would seem the years had not been kind to him, the old knight mused.
Viserys smiled as the group of armed men stopped in shock at the entrance of the courtyard at the sight of Clouddiver, the golden brown dragon's presence striking fear into all of them, including the legendary Red Viper Oberyn. "Sagon gīda, Clouddiver." Viserys bellowed, resting a hand on the side of the dragon as he did so.
"Vis...Viserys?" Oberyn choked, steadying himself as he began to speak.
"I am Prince Viserys Targaryen." Viserys grinned, walking toward Oberyn. "I believe we met several years ago, Prince Oberyn." He smiled, holding out a hand for Oberyn to shake.
Oberyn grasped the Silver Prince's hand with uncertainty, unsure of how such a meeting would go or how it would end with a dragon the size of a large house looming over them. "We did, Prince Viserys, many years ago. However, you were much younger back then. I see you bring Ser Barristan Selmy with you as well."
Barristan smiled at Oberyn and offered a respectful nod whilst his hand tightly gripped his sword's hilt. "Prince Oberyn."
"This is your brother, I assume?" Viserys asked, gazing at the awe-struck man in the wheeled chair.
"It is, Prince Viserys. Prince Doran, Lord of Sunspear and Prince of Dorne."
"A pleasure, my Prince." Viserys smiled, as he bowed his head respectfully.
Doran eyed Viserys up and down, unsure of what to make of him. "I am pleased to finally meet you. May I ask why you are here and the back of a dragon no less?"
"We made an agreement when Prince Oberyn first came to us all those years ago. I am to marry Princess Arianne to seal our alliance in matrimony." Viserys answered, doing well to hide the uncertainty of marrying a woman he had never met in his voice.
"Yes, I remember it well." Doran sighed. "That still does not tell me why you came on the back of a dragon, Prince Viserys."
Viserys smiled, turning to face Clouddiver as he did so. "What better way to introduce myself to my future family, than turning up here on the back of a magnificent beast such as him?"
"Some Lords may take it as a threat," Doran argued.
"Some might and some should." Viserys shrugged, the smile disappearing from his face as he turned around to face the wary Prince of Dorne. "Now, shall we get to why I came here?"
Doran drew quiet for a moment, a restless hand tapping against the arm of his wheelchair, his thoughts ablaze with the situation being presented before him. He wanted so much more for Arianne, and whilst he agreed at the time to marry her to Viserys, now that he was here, he chased an even greater prize. "Where is your nephew? This supposed 'King'?"
"Oh, he is much closer at hand than you think, my Prince," Viserys warned, a small sadistic smile appearing at the corner of his mouth. It was then that Clouddiver let out a slow almost snarling growl as if to warn Doran to not overstep his bounds in the presence of those much greater and deadlier than him.
Oberyn sensing the tension brewing between everyone and the dragon, stepped between Doran and Viserys, his arms folded across his chest. "Enough, both of you. Let us take you to Arianne, and see if we can come to some agreement."
"Very wise, Prince Oberyn." Viserys smiled, as he began to walk past everyone and out of the courtyard, Barristan following him subconsciously as he did so. "Do not worry about my dragon, my Princes, and peers, he is well trained." He chuckled.
Oberyn and Doran followed Viserys, bewildered by his confident attitude to just stride into the home of people he had only just met. Doran still did not know what to make of him, but his confidence put him at ease. He would rather Arianne marry a man who was sure of himself rather than one who was weak-willed and limp. Better yet, she was marrying a dragon rider, something which had not been seen in centuries.
As they progress through the palace, the trio passes by courtyards filled with fountains and lush greenery, the gentle sound of water adding to the serene atmosphere. Sunlight streams through stained-glass windows, casting colorful patterns on the marble floors. The approach to Arianne's chambers is marked by an increase in formality. Guards in distinctive Dornish armor stand at attention, acknowledging their prince and his esteemed guests with respectful nods. The grandeur of the palace seems to converge upon this moment.
Viserys, though internally a whirlwind of emotions, maintains his composure. Oberyn's playful grin offers silent encouragement, while Doran's steady presence provides reassurance, whereas Barristan stands behind them all, consumed by his duty and blissfully ignorant of the cascade of emotions that plagued Viserys. As they stand before the grand doors of Arianne's quarters, Viserys takes a deep breath, ready to meet the woman who holds the key to his future.
The heavy doors of the chamber swing open as Viserys steps inside, his senses barraged with the smells of lavender and other heavy perfumes. His eyes caught sight of the lavish decorations and silks draped across the walls, whereas a small smirk appeared on his face as he caught sight of the fine art that populated the many walls around him. His gaze finally rested on the figure that lay lazily on the bed, her eyes engrossed in a book.
She was beautiful, and her dark eyes fluttered up in surprise to stare at the silver Prince before her. Viserys almost had to catch his breath as she moved to stand up from the bed. Her hair was a swirling mess of dark curls as it dropped down her curved back, highlighted by a band of copper suns that rested on her forehead as if a crown of her own making.
As she stood up and began to walk towards Viserys, he was taken aback by the curves that made up her body as the soft scarlet silks fell around her like a waterfall. His eyes even caught sight of the snakeskin sandals that laced up to her luscious thighs. As much as he was shocked and joyful about her beauty, he was surprised at how short she was, as she stood before him, her dark brown eyes looking up and into his lilac own.
"Is this the one you told me about father?" She asked, her full lips parting to reveal her husky and alluring voice.
"It is, my daughter. This is Prince Viserys Targaryen." Doran smiled, putting her daughter at ease as she looked toward him.
"A pleasure, Princess." Viserys smiled, attempting to keep his composure as Arianne circled him, her dark brown eyes drinking in as much of him as she could.
"You are very exotic, perhaps more so than me." She mumbled, tilting her head up toward Viserys as she came to stand in front of him. "I understand we are to be married."
"If your father allows it, yes, we are."
Arianne looked once more to her father who sat with his head resting on one hand. "May we have a moment alone, father?" She asked.
"Very well, but only a moment. I will be outside." He sighed, as he, Barristand, and Oberyn made their way out of the chambers, the heavy doors closing with a thud behind them.
Arianne smiled and turned her gaze back toward Viserys, who stood patiently if nervously in front of her. "You know my father did not plan on marrying me to you." She smirked as she walked toward the bed and sat down on the edge of it, using her arms to prop herself up, revealing the roundness of her breasts that were present beneath her expensive silks to Viserys.
"I inclined that this isn't his ideal match for you." Viserys sighed, his rigid composure loosening ever so slightly.
Arianne smiled, her head cocking to one side, as her black hair lazed across her shoulders. "Well, it is not for him to decide. Not really."
"You think so? I admire your confidence, Princess."
"There is a lot to admire about me." She smirked, standing up and walking toward Viserys. "I still have your letters, from all those years ago. You're not as I pictured in my mind."
A small blush came to the cheeks of Viserys, his pale skin showing a hint of redness as he remembered the contents of his letters. A young and naive boy at the time, he was not inclined to the true nature of love or what it was about, and he winced to himself as he thought of the silly things he said to the woman before him. "I...apologize for what I said in those letters. I was much younger in those years." He smirked, as his lilac eyes took in the deep brown ones that stared back at him.
"There is nothing to apologize for, Viserys. I thought they were sweet. I am sure my own were not much better." She chuckled. "I think we will get along just fine."
The words put Viserys at ease. It turns out this arrangement was becoming more beneficial than even he could've imagined. When he was imagining this moment, he never thought that Arianne would be this beautiful. "I hope so, Princess. I hope you get along with my dragon too, it'll be a shame if he doesn't."
Her eyes widened in shock and disbelief at his words. "You have a dragon? You never mentioned this in your writings, Viserys." She gasped.
"I was sworn to secrecy. I still am really but he is rather hard to hide at this point."
"Where is he? In Pentos?"
"How do you think I got here? On a ship?" Viserys chuckled. "Those of the blood of the dragon have much better ways of traveling."
Viserys, with a spark of excitement in his eyes, takes Arianne's hand. The pair blow past Oberyn, Doran, and Barristan in their excitement, the trio following them in a vain attempt to keep up. Viserys lead her through the elegant corridors of the Palace of Sunspear. The pair navigate the intricate palace hallways, with the grandeur of Dornish architecture surrounding them as the golden walls, vibrant tapestries, and the scent of exotic flowers fill the air.
Emerging into the courtyard, the scene is nothing short of awe-inspiring. The sun casts a warm glow over the sandstone and the lush greenery that decorates the space. In the center, lying majestically, is Clouddiver, Viserys' golden brown dragon. The creature's scales glint like polished armor under the sunlight, and its amber eyes reflect a mixture of curiosity and intelligence.
Clouddiver, sensing Viserys' approach, lifts its massive head and lets out a low, rumbling growl that reverberates through the courtyard. Despite its formidable presence, there's an unmistakable bond between the dragon and its rider. Viserys, with a gentle hand, strokes Clouddiver's snout, murmuring soft words of affection.
Arianne, captivated by the sight, stands in awe. She has seen dragons before in tales and stories, but witnessing one up close is an entirely different experience. The sheer power and beauty of Clouddiver take her breath away. Viserys, noticing her wonder, smiles warmly. "This is Clouddiver," he says with pride. "He has been my companion for many years, and I trust him with my life." He gestures for Arianne to come closer. "Would you like to touch him?"
Arianne was hesitant at first, unable to calm herself at the sight of the mighty beast. Viserys gestured once more for her to come and touch his dragon, and she slowly walked towards it, her soft and delicate hand outstretched, mimicking what Viserys had done.
She finally rested her hand on its leathery golden skin, the dragon rumbling in response. Arianne was unsure what to make of the noise, her dark brown eyes looking to a smiling Viserys for reassurance. "Does he like me?" She asked, her voice trembling with excitement.
"Well, he hasn't eaten you yet, so I think he does." Viserys chuckled.
"Does he usually eat people?"
"Only those I tell him to."
Barristan, Doran, and Barristan appeared at the entrance of the courtyard once more, all of them wearing disapproving looks at the childish antics both Viserys and Arianne were displaying. Doran however, calmed at the sight of Arianne touching the great dragon before them all, and he offered a warm and approving smile toward them both, whereas Barristan and Oberyn were in awe at the sight.
"Perhaps, this will be a happy union after all," Doran smirked, understanding the power a dragon now gave them in the coming war for the throne. He knew that there were still some details to be discussed with Viserys but they could wait.
The arrival of these figures adds weight to the moment, highlighting the significance of the alliance and the expectations resting upon the young couple. Viserys, still gently holding Arianne's hand, feels a renewed sense of purpose. Arianne, bolstered by the presence of her family and allies, stands with a newfound confidence.
Clouddiver, sensing the collective energy, lets out a deep, resonant rumble, a sound that echoes the monumental nature of the occasion. The courtyard, filled with the richness of Dornish culture and the presence of noble figures, becomes a stage for a future that is yet to be written.
Aemon Targaryen
The humid Dornish air surrounded Aemon and Arthur as they flew through the air, Aemon's gray eyes looking down at the endless desert sands below him. The whole journey here his mind had been occupied by what Melisandre had told him and why he needed to come here. Even Arthur could not fathom an idea, but something called out to him as they flew over the sands and dunes of Dorne. A strange gnawing feeling like an insatiable hunger cried out in the middle of the desert.
Looking around at the ground, he could feel the calling originating from the northern side of some red mountains, their peaks appearing scarlet and red in the sunset. Aemon gave the Vaedar the order to fly down toward it, and he could feel Arthur stiffen behind him. Taking Arthur's bodily reaction as a sign that this was the place that Mesliandre alluded to, he flew even closer until a small unremarkable tower came into view.
Aemon could feel Vaedar rumble mournfully beneath him as the great black dragon landed in an open clearing before the tower. Aemon and Arthur climbed off the scaly back of Vaedar and took a few heavy steps on the dust-filled gravely ground, their legs weak and untested after hours of flying. Aemon could hear Arthur breathe a heavy sigh and turn to face the melancholic Sword of the Morning.
"Is everything alright, Arthur?" He asked, his eyes narrowing in the setting sun.
"This is the place, Aemon, where your mother died and where you were born. And where I lost two of the bravest souls I ever knew." Arthur sighed mournfully.
Aemon turned and looked at the rundown tower, the years of neglect showing on the stone surface of the walls as sand and debris stuck to it like sea barnacles. He then looked to the sight of eight graves at the foot of the tower, two of them having been exhumed. Arthur moved to stand at the side of Aemon, the Sword of the Morning attempting to keep a calm facade at the sight of the dug-up graves.
"Sacrilegious swine's." Arthur spat. "Have they no respect for the dead?"
Aemon looked up at Arthur, his glistening wet with the product of his emotions. "Who was buried there?" He asked, walking past Arthur toward the empty graves, his gloved hand rubbing his cheek in an attempt to keep himself calm in front of Arthur.
Arthur took a deep breath and exhaled, composing himself for the words he was about to speak. "Your Uncle, Eddard. Then your mother, Lyanna." He said, looking toward the empty graves.
"Where are their bodies?" Aemon asked, his eyes never leaving the graves.
Arthur walked up behind Aemon and stood to his side, examining the graves as he did so. "I am...not sure, Aemon. Perhaps, Robert sent someone to look for Eddard when he did not return." Arthur guessed, placing a comforting hand on Aemon's shoulder.
"Did you have to kill him?" Aemon asked, looking at Arthur.
The question caught Arthur off guard. He had never thought to ask himself the same question and constantly felt that what he did was right and for the good of the King. "Eddard?" He blustered. "There was no other option, Aemon. He came with a party of men and I had to ensure your safety."
Aemon shrugged Arthur's hand off of his shoulder and walked away from him before turning to face him once more, his arms folded across his chest. "He was my family, Arthur, my mother's brother and you did not even try to talk to him or dissuade him in any way?"
"Aemon, I have told you this tale a thousand times, and never once have you asked me this." Arthur sighed.
"Just give me an answer, Arthur," Aemon demanded, his frustration showing.
Arthur sighed once more and rubbed his temple with his hand, racking his brain for an answer. "You have to understand that I am a Kingsguard and I had a duty to protect you. I was not going to let anyone get to you, not even Eddard Stark."
"Why? He could have only been here to see my mother, to see if she was safe."
"Perhaps, but he did not know she was with child. Had he killed me and then saw you, a living threat to his greatest friend's rule, who knows what he could have done to you? What life you could have led, had I not done my duty."
"You don't think he would have killed me?"
"His sister's son? No, a ridiculous notion, Eddard Stark was not like that, but I doubt he would've given you a chance to pursue your birthright."
"Is that all it was to you then? Duty and fighting for that fucking throne?"
Arthur shook his head in disbelief at the accusations being leveled at him by the boy he and his Sworn Brothers had sacrificed so much for. "Aemon, I lost people too, I have given everything I knew up for you. For Gods sake, I carried you through this infernal desert when you were a babe and crossed entire oceans just to see you safe." Arthur exasperated, as his voice began to raise with anger.
Aemon looked stunned at Arthur, realizing that he was perhaps letting his own emotions get the better of him and preventing him from being able to see it from Arthur's side. "I am sorry, Arthur, I didn't mean to-"
"Enough, Aemon. It's alright. It's just you must understand, what I did, I did for you and your family. I couldn't take any risks then and I am unwilling to take any now when it comes to your safety, and if I could go back and do it again knowing what I know now? I would, for I swore an oath." Arthur proudly said, his head rising high as he did so.
"I understand, Arthur, I do, and I thank you for it all as you didn't have to do all of that." Aemon sighed, offering a small smile of appreciation to the unwavering knight before him.
"Yes, well I did, Aemon. Let's leave it at that for now." Arthur grinned, relaxing Aemon as he took sight of it.
Aemon nodded and began looking at the other graves, his eyes resting on two that stood out from the rest. "Is that Ser Oswell and Ser Gerold?" he asked, nodding at the graves.
"It is. Two of the finest men I ever knew. Gerold was the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard for years, and despite being in his twilight years by the time of the rebellion, he could still beat anyone." Arthur smiled, his thoughts being filled with the images of his mentor.
"I wish I could've known him."
"He was a great man, Aemon, perhaps if things were different..."
"Perhaps if things were different," Aemon repeated, wondering what kind of man Gerold would have been had he known him. "What of Oswell?"
"A fine man and an even greater friend. I wish I could've protected him, protected them both, but I was outnumbered that day and I couldn't to my shame."
"Not even the Dragonknight himself could have bested as many men as you on that day. You still performed your duty, Arthur." Aemon smiled, turning and walking toward the tower as he did so.
"Are you sure you want to go in there, Aemon? There are perhaps still things that you might not want to see." Arthur asked, his eyes following his King.
"I am...unsure, Arthur. I feel something calling to me, though; I can't quite explain it." Aemon sniffed as he stood at the entrance of the tower. He could feel a cold breeze moving through the dilapidated hallways and stairwells that composed this sordid place. Before Aemon entered the tower properly, he could feel Arthur rush up behind him, a hand resting on his shoulder once more as he did so.
"Are you sure?" Arthur asked once more.
"I am, Arthur." Aemon sighed, steeling himself for the sights he expected to see.
Inside the tower, the air was thick with memories. Arthur moved past Aemon and led the way, his face a mask of determination, whilst Aemon's gray eyes darted around, memorizing every small detail. Together, they climbed the spiral staircase, their footsteps a solemn drumbeat against the cold stone beneath them.
At the top, they found the chamber where Lyanna had drawn her last breath. The room was quiet, the only sound was the faint whisper of the wind through the narrow windows. Arthur moved to stand in a corner of the room, leaving Aemon to stand at the doorway. Aemon stood there a moment, his eyes scanning the room before he moved inside.
His hands traced the walls where he could still see faint traces of dried blood, the emotion of it all becoming too much for him as his eyes began to well up with tears. He knelt at the side of the bed that his mother had died upon, his heart heavy with unspoken questions and years of unfelt love. He could feel Arthur place a silent but reassuring hand on his shoulder, as he began to cry for his lost mother.
"I wish I could have known her, not just in my dreams, but here in this world." Aemon cried, his tears falling freely down his soft cheeks. "I wish I could feel her touch and her love and had it not been for that usurper, she may yet still live." Aemon sniffed, his voice turning from sadness to anger. "By the Gods, I swear Mother, I swear to you I will see him dead."
Arthur gripped the shoulder of Aemon firmly in an attempt to calm him down. "Easy Aemon." He whispered, soothing the pained boy before him.
Aemon wiped his tears and stood up, Arthur's hand falling to his side as he did so. "I've seen enough, Arthur, let's leave this horrid place."
With a final lingering glance, Aemon followed Arthur down the spiral staircase, his face looking as though it had aged a thousand years as it bore the strain of seeing his mother's final resting place. As they made their way outside, the setting sun blinded them and caused them to narrow their eyes.
As they stepped into the shadow of the tower, their eyes were immediately drawn to the imposing figure of Vaedar as the mighty dragon let out a mournful rumble in recognition of the troubles that brew inside Aemon. Vaedar's eyes, a deep burning red, tracked the approach of them both with an intensity that only the majesty of a dragon could produce. The ground beneath the great dragon's claws was cracked and scorched from the lingering heat of its presence, and wisps of smoke curled from its nostrils, hinting at the raging fire within.
The dragon's head, crowned with menacing horns, dipped slightly as Aemon drew near, a small sign of the mutual respect between the dragon and its rider. Arthur could feel the heat of it from where he stood and he would often mistake the heat of the dragon for the heat of the sun, as he was unable to tell the difference between them at times.
"Where are we off to next, Aemon?" Arthur called from behind, as Aemon lay a gentle hand on the side of Vaedar's enormous head.
Aemon pondered a moment his thoughts lingering on his mother before they soon turned to thoughts of her home. "Winterfell?" Aemon asked, his voice displaying a small hint of hope that Arthur might allow him to travel there without any bickering.
"Aemon...It's too dangerous, and besides, they don't even know you exist." Arthur argued, noticing the disappointed look present on Aemon's features. "Look, let's make our way home, and we'll see what Rhaella says. We cannot just head to the North on a whim."
"I suppose you're right, Arthur." Aemon relented. "Let us leave this desolate place behind."
Arthur nodded and followed Aemon to the side of Vaedar, the mighty dragon letting out an audible rumble as they did so. Aemon climbed the back of his dragon, his gloved hands gripping the leather reins that bound the head of Vaedar. Arthur climbed up and sat behind him his arms gripping around the waist of his King as he did so. "Ready, Aemon." He said.
Aemon nodded and with a subtle command to Vaedar, the great dragon unfurled his wings, each movement rippling with raw strength. The wind around them began to stir as Vaedar prepared to launch. With a powerful thrust of the legs, the dragon leaped into the air, wings beating with a rhythmic intensity that sent them soaring skyward. The ground fell away rapidly, and soon, they were gliding above the rugged landscape that had once seemed so imposing.
The Disputed Lands: 298 AC: The Same Day:
Rhaella Targaryen
Rhaella and Daenerys looked at each other as they soared through the air on the backs of their dragons, their colors shimmering in the setting sun. Beneath them, the cracked and scorched earth of the disputed lands rushed by them like a raging river, the dust lifting from the ground in a flurry of motion as they flew by. They had come to this desolate place to seek one man. Jon Connington.
After Rhaella had heard of Aemon speaking to him about armies and 'their forces', she had felt obliged to come out here herself and talk to the man, despite her knowledge that they did not have the support of the Golden Company. She knew it was dangerous, but she felt untouchable and even invincible with herself and her daughter's dragon and felt that no man could harm them lest they face the wrath of their dragons.
Soon enough, Vēdros descended, and Rhaella's eyes beheld the sprawling encampment of the Golden Company. The myriad tents formed a vibrant patchwork of colors, their banners fluttering in the cool breeze, each bearing the sigil of the golden elephant. From this vantage point, the organized chaos of the camp revealed itself: soldiers marched in precise formations, their armor gleaming like molten gold in the sun's dying rays. Watchfires began to flicker to life, dotting the landscape with warm, inviting glows that contrasted sharply with the gathering dusk. The rhythmic clanging of hammers against anvils carried on the wind, mingling with the distant laughter and shouts of camaraderie from the men below.
Rhaella could almost feel the nerves brewing within Daenerys beside her, as they drew closer to the outskirts of the camp. Offering her daughter a comforting smile, they soon landed at the edges of the camp, their dragons touching down, the weight of the dragons causing the ground to shift and crack despite their graceful landing. Rhaella and Daenerys climbed down the backs of their dragons, dusting themselves off as they did so and they began their wait.
"Are you sure of this mother?" Daenerys asked, her eyes darting around the camp as she saw men emerge from tents and the interiors of the camp, no doubt startled and wary of whatever had caused their disturbance.
"Fear not, Daenerys, we have our dragons," Rhaella smirked, her arms folding across her chest.
Daenerys sighed, shaking her head as she did so. "I still don't know why we're here. It's dangerous and these men don't support us."
"Remember what I told you if things go wrong, Daenerys?" Rhaella asked, her eyes stern and calculating.
"Yes, I do, mother."
As Rhaella and Daenerys stood side by side, the men of the Golden Company began to approach them, their golden armor gleaming under the setting sun. Their faces were stern, their posture confident, as they marched forward purposefully. However, as they drew nearer, their eyes widened in terror at the sight of Vēdros and Frostfyre, the two massive dragons looming protectively over their Targaryen riders. The men's confident strides faltered, and fear crept into their expressions. Some hesitated, their hands instinctively reaching for their swords. In contrast, others took a cautious step back, unable to tear their gaze away from the dragons' piercing eyes and the fiery glow emanating from their nostrils.
Amidst the sudden wave of fear, Jon Connington emerged from the ranks. Unlike the others, he walked with unyielding resolve, his eyes locked onto Rhaella and Daenerys. His presence commanded respect, and he exuded an air of calm authority. He raised a hand, signaling his men to hold their ground, and approached the mother and daughter with measured steps. His voice, was frustrated and angry, as he came close to Rhaella and began to speak in hushed tones.
"My Queen, I mean this with all due respect, but what are you doing here?" He whispered, his eyes piercing the both of them.
"Jon Connington." Rhaella smiled. "Just the man I wanted to see."
"These men...If they find out who you are." Jon seethed. "You must go."
"A dragon does not flee and besides, I have a proposition for these men of yours." Rhaella asserted, her warm smile disappearing only to be replaced by a visage of cold command.
"What do you mean?" Jon asked as he watched in despair as Rhaella walked past him and began to address the gathering of men before her.
Rhaella stood before them all, her regal demeanor demanding their full attention. As her violet eyes narrowed and gazed upon them all, their stunned faces unable to make sense of the scene unfolding before them, as one of their most respected commanders seemed to reel and bow to this silver-haired stranger. However, she could tell that some of them knew who she was, as some of them seemed to scowl at her, their faces showing scorn and indignation.
"Men of the esteemed Golden Company." She began. "I'm sure by now you've seen our dragons and are wondering who we are."
She stood silent a moment as the mass of men before her murmured in discussion, their voices rising as they did so until some of the braver men stepped forward.
"We know who you are." One burly man announced, his voice gruff and harsh. "Targaryen scum!" He yelled. "We know our history and Bittersteel would never bow to you and neither will we."
Rhaella could feel Daenerys begin to tense up behind her before she spoke, her voice a whisper, as she clung onto the arm of Jon out of desperation. "Mother, can we leave? This is becoming dangerous.
"Rhaella, please, these men will seek to harm you." Jon pleaded, noticing the rising voice of discontent in the crowd before him. The only reason he could guess why they had not tried to kill her yet was because of the imperious watch held by the two dragons behind them.
"A shame, Sers, a shame." Rhaella sighed, before walking backward towards her dragon, her eyes trained on Jon as she did so. "I suggest you climb on, Jon," Rhaella commanded Jon, who felt he was in no position to argue. He followed Rhaella to the back of Vēdros and climbed on at the same time as she did. Rhaella could hear the shouts of 'traitor' and 'disgrace' behind her, a small smile appearing on her face as she listened on.
Daenerys followed her mother's example, and was more than happy to climb on the back of her dragon, hoping to get away from the unfolding scene. Her violet eyes looked to her mother and saw that Jon was saying something to her, his voice becoming unheard in the growing discontent of the Golden Company. Beneath her, Daenerys could feel Frostfyre grow restless and uncomfortable as he began to rumble and screech, causing the sellswords in front of them to grow wary, their hands on their swords.
"Rhaella? What are you doing?" Jon asked from behind her, his voice full of worry and concern.
"Giving them one more chance," Rhaella mumbled, a stern calm coming over her as she did so. Her head turned to face the crowd of men before her, her eyes surveying every single one of their faces. She could see that some stood resolute and unwavering, whereas some of them stood nervously, their faces betraying their inner thoughts. Before she could speak, however, she could see a singular man step out from the crowd, the voices of the Golden Company becoming quiet as he did so.
"What is the meaning of this?" The man asked, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of the two mighty dragons before him and freezing him in his place.
"And who might you be?" Rhaella called out to him, her violet eyes tracking him all the while.
"Harry Strickland, Captain General of the Golden Company," Harry announced, his voice proud. "Jon? What are you doing?" He then asked, his eyes looking at a man who he thought was his friend.
Jon said nothing and rather allowed Rhaella to speak for him. "Ah, just the man I wanted to see. I am Rhaella Targaryen, and I have but one thing to ask you."
Harry looked stunned, unable to comprehend the words he was hearing. "Targaryen?" He stammered. "But...you are all dead? What is this trickery?"
"There is no trickery, Ser, now I ask you all this. Will you help my family reclaim our birthright and fight alongside us in Westeros?" She announced.
Nobody said a thing, as an eerie silence drew over them all, the dimly lit sky only filled with the sound of crackling fire and the occasional shuffle of men. "Will you fight for us?" She announced once again, her dragon growing discontent beneath her at the gnawing silence.
"Death to the Targaryens!" One man from the back of the crowd shouted, much to Harry Strickland's dismay.
"Then you leave me with no choice." Rhaella asserted.
"Wait!" Harry interrupted, his face pale and full of fear. "Surely we can talk and come to some arrangement." Harry pleaded to an ignorant Rhaella. As he was speaking, he failed to notice one of his men come up from behind him, dagger in hand. Before he knew it, the blade had entered through his back and out through his stomach, blood dripping down his legs as he looked down upon it.
"Fucking coward." The murderer whispered in his ear, before pulling the blade from him, Harry collapsing to the ground as he did so, his life leaving through the hole in his back and stomach. "This will be your fate." The killer then said, pointing the blooded blade at Jon, who watched on in despair.
The sickening act confirmed to Rhaella what she had always known about the Golden Company. That they were men without honor and willing to kill and steal their way to the top, much like their founder, Bittersteel, was. She looked to Daenerys and gave her a subtle nod before both dragons took the air, their roars echoing around the camp and the surrounding grounds.
Rhaella could feel Jon's grip tightening around her waist as he braced for what he knew was to come, but he drew less tense as he saw the dragons fly away from the camp. "Are we leaving?" He asked his voice loud in Rhaella's ear.
Rhaella looked to Daenerys beside her and gave her a commanding nod, both dragons turning back as they did so. "No." She answered to Jon, who shook his head, fearing what was to come.
As the dragons drew closer, the camp of the Golden Company lay unsuspecting below, bathed in the last rays of the setting sun. Suddenly, the shadow of the dragons darkened the ground, and panic spread through the ranks. Soldiers, once confident in their golden armor, now scrambled for cover, but it was too late.
"Dracarys!" Rhaella shouted, the anger in her voice clear. At that moment, her anger was clear as her mind was filled to the brim of her losses. Her dead son and her family's stolen birthright come to the forefront of it all.
With a simple command, Vēdros unleashed a torrent of flames on the camp, burning everything and everyone below. Behind him, his brother, Frostfyre, let loose his flames with a sickening roar. The two dragons passed the camp over and over again, reducing the once proud Golden Company to nothing but ash and cinders. Rhaella turned her head to see Jon look down at the camp, his eyes full of sadness for the men that he once knew. In the distance, he could see Daenerys raze the pen holding Harry's elephants, their gray flesh quickly turned to black as they burned to death in the fires of the dragon. The sight angered him, and he was sure to bring it up to them when this was all over, along with several other things.
Soon enough, the two dragons had reduced the camp to a smoldering pile of cloth and flesh, the smell of burnt and dying men filling the air around them. The smell made Rhaella sick as she flew over the camp once more, but she knew what she had done was necessary. If they refused to join them, as she knew they would, they would burn as in her mind, they were too dangerous to be left intact and willing to fight. No more shall the Golden Company threaten Targaryen rule and it was an outcome she was satisfied with as she and Daenerys made their way back to Pentos, leaving nothing behind them but death.
Kings Landing: 298 AC: The Same Day:
Varys
As Varys, the master of whispers, glided silently through the halls of the Red Keep, he approached the Small Council chambers with his usual air of quiet confidence. He slipped through the heavy wooden door, his eyes sweeping the room with practiced ease.
The chamber was grand yet functional, a testament to the power and authority that emanated from within these walls. The large, polished wooden table at the center was surrounded by high-backed chairs, each occupied by men who believed themselves to be the true rulers of the realm.
Varys observed the opulence of the room with a discerning eye. The rich tapestries on the walls depicted historical battles and glorious victories, a reminder of the kingdom's storied past. Intricate carvings adorned the wooden paneling, each telling a tale of its own. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows across the room, adding to the air of mystery and intrigue.
As Varys sat and observed the room, the heavy doors of the council chamber swung open to reveal Jon Arryn being followed by Litllefinger, Pycelle, and Renly Baratheon, Robert's younger brother and recently appointed Master of Laws. Varys stood up and greeted them all accordingly, as they all took their places around the table, both Pycelle and Littlefinger vying for the seat closest to Jon as if it would make the man look more important than he was.
The men sat in silence for a moment, as they awaited for the remaining member of the council. Soon enough, Stannis Baratheon appeared in the chamber to fulfill his role as Master of Ships, his face stern and unemotional as usual. He sat at the end of the table, his distaste for the less honorable members made very much clear.
"Good." Jon began. "Now that you're all here, let us begin."
The council members turned their attention to Jon Arryn, ready and waiting to hear what the Old Falcon had to say.
"Let us first begin with the issue of coin," Jon announced, his head turning to face a smug-looking Petyr Baelish. "The Realm is massively in debt, Petyr, due to the lavish spending of Robert and Cersei, and now he wants another hundred thousand Gold Dragons I believe."
"Whatever for?" Pycelle interrupted.
"A tournament," Littlefinger answered, looking at the blubbering old man before him. "It is to be his thirty-sixth name day in the next moon and he wishes a grand tourney for the occasion."
"How much?" Varys asked, his interest piqued.
"Forty thousand gold dragons to the joust winner. Twenty thousand to the melee winner and Ten thousand to the winner of the archery." Jon answered.
The sighs of disappointment were heard loud and true around the table, most notably from Stannis, who began to speak up. "A useless waste of crown funds. " He frowned, folding his arms across his chest.
"My Lord Hand, is this not a...misuse of resources?" Varys asked. "Perhaps it would be better if-"
"Enough, Lord Varys." Jon interrupted. "I don't much agree with the amount being spent but we are in no place to argue with Robert. Now, Lord Baelish, how can we go about securing these funds?"
"I can petition the Iron Bank once more. We are already a million Gold Dragons in debt, what's another hundred thousand?" Petyr smiled.
"See to it," Jon ordered. "Now, onto a more pressing matter. I want to know the location of the Targaryens and what they are up to."
The room drew quiet, as no one had any answers for the obsessive Hand of the King. "You all control more spies than the rest of the Realm combined and you mean to tell me that you don't know a thing?" Jon accused, the disappointment clear on his face.
"We are trying, my Lord Hand," Varys assured.
"Try harder," Jon replied, his voice bitter. "The longer those pretenders linger about, the more jeopardy we are all in. I want them found and I want them dead."
"We know they are in Pentos, my Lord Hand," Pycelle interjected.
Jon looked at the old man with disgust. "We've known they are in Pentos for years, but recently, we have gone blind. Every spy we had there has disappeared for some reason unbeknownst to us." He spat, before looking at Varys. "I want you to find out why, Lord Varys, and how they've managed to enact such a feat."
Varys smiled, as he knew his efforts were paying off, and now, Jon Arryn had stupidly put him in charge of finding out why his spies were disappearing from the face of the world. "At your command," Varys nodded, a respectful smile appearing on his face as he did so.
"There is something else," Petyr announced, everyone's attention turning to him. "There have been eyewitness sightings from sailors and merchants from Pentos. That there are dragons in Pentos."
"Dragons?" Jon gasped. "Impossible."
"Superstitious nonsense from the smallfolk is nothing to be concerned about." Pycelle chuckled.
"Still, it is intriguing," Petyr argued. "We should take all reports of such things seriously, and if the Targaryens have somehow-"
"Enough, Petyr." Jon interrupted. "I'll not have our time wasted by fairy tales and sailors' stories, now if there's nothing else, we will meet again tomorrow." Jon sighed, before standing up and walking from the room.
Varys watched as the others exchanged polite farewells. Grand Maester Pycelle, feigning frailty, shuffled out with the aid of his cane, but not without a knowing glint in his eye. Stannis departed with his customary stoic nod, his armor clinking softly with each step. Petyr Baelish lingered a moment, his eyes meeting Varys's with a hint of mirth as if to say, "The game continues." As Littlefinger walked from the room, Varys pondered on why he didn't just have the man killed, but he knew it would draw to much attention to him considering their relationship.
As the door closed behind the last of his fellow council members, Varys allowed himself a moment to reflect. The air still hummed with the tension of their debates, the undercurrents of ambition and secrecy. As always, he had dispensed his counsel carefully, playing his part to perfection. Now, however, he had a new avenue of intrigue to explore. If given enough leverage, the Iron Bank may consider funding Aemon to regain their borrowed gold.
Casterly Rock: 298 AC: The Same Day:
Tywin Lannister
Tywin Lannister stood at the tall window of his solar, his steely gaze fixed on the expanse of the Sunset Sea. The waves below crashed against the formidable cliffs of Casterly Rock, sending salty mist into the air. As the golden sun dipped toward the horizon, it cast a radiant glow across the water, illuminating Tywin's chiseled features with a fiery light. The sky blazed with hues of orange, pink, and purple, painting a picture of fleeting beauty.
Behind him, sat his son and heir, Tyrion. The thought of it shamed him and ever since Jaime had deserted his family and house, he had tried to teach Tyrion everything he could about ruling. Some of his lessons had appeared to rub off on his son and he had started to see him in a different light. However, there was still the glaring issue that he was a dwarf, unfit to carry the Lannister name.
"You called for me father?" Tyrion asked, interrupting Tywin from his musings at the window.
"Yes, Tyrion, I did." Tyrion coldly replied, turning and sitting at the desk before his son. "There is to be the King's name day tournament soon, I would ask that you go and represent us."
Tyrion seemed interested in the prospect and sat up straighter in his chair, but a small question lingered on his mind. "I would be honored, Father, but why do you not go instead?"
Tywin eyed his son up and down. For years, he had not set foot in King's Landing, not since Jon Arryn and Robert Baratheon named his favored son an outlaw and traitor to the Realm for unfounded assumptions. "I will not go, Tyrion. I refuse." Tywin simply stated.
"For years you have refused to go to King's Landing, and yet you still won't tell me why." Tyrion wondered.
"And I will not. Now, go and make your preparations for your journey." Tywin ordered, as Tyrion solemnly nodded and began to waddle from the room. "Oh, and one more thing." Tywin barked as Tyrion turned to face him at the entrance to the solar. "You are there to represent House Lannister. There will be no whoring or drunken tirades, am I understood?"
"Yes, father," Tyrion said before leaving the room.
Tywin Lannister stood at the threshold of his solar, his piercing eyes following the retreating figure of his son, Tyrion. The setting sun cast long shadows across the stone floor, highlighting the stark contrast between the father and son. Tyrion, with his unconventional stature and wit, had always been a source of frustration for Tywin—a sharp thorn in the proud lion's paw.
As Tyrion's footsteps faded into the distance, Tywin's mind swirled with a tempest of emotions. Shame, anger, and a begrudging acceptance mingled together. How had it come to this? His eldest son, Jaime, once the embodiment of Lannister pride and strength, is now exiled in Essos, aligning with the Targaryens or so the Crown would have him believe. And Cersei is embroiled in her schemes, leaving only Tyrion to stand as the face of House Lannister at the tournament.
The weight of legacy bore down on Tywin's shoulders, the expectations of his ancestors pressing him to the brink. He clenched his jaw, steeling himself against the tide of disappointment. This was not the future he had envisioned for his family, but it was the reality he had to accept.
Pentos: 298 AC: 1 Day Later:
Aemon Targaryen
The setting sun bathed Pentos in a warm, golden light as Aemon approached the city on the back of his magnificent dragon, Vaedar. The rhythmic beat of Vaedar's wings stirred the air, creating a powerful gust that rustled the trees below. From his vantage point high above, Aemon could see the sprawling city, its red-tiled rooftops glistening in the twilight.
As they descended, the grand manse of Illyrio Mopatis came into view. Aemon's keen eyes immediately caught sight of two familiar dragons, their imposing figures resting in the courtyard. The vibrant red scales of Rhaella's dragon Vēdros, gleamed in the fading light, while the smaller, yet equally fierce dragon, Frostfyre, belonging to Daenerys, stretched its wings lazily.
A surge of relief and excitement coursed through Aemon's veins. He had feared that the journey might have delayed him, but seeing the dragons confirmed that his kin were already here, safe and sound. Vaedar let out a triumphant roar, announcing their arrival, and the dragons below responded with echoing calls.
"Have they already returned?" Arthur asked from behind him, his confusion clear.
"Perhaps their mission was a short one. The Golden Company is not too far from here so they would not have had long to travel." Aemon replied, as Vaedar began to land in the courtyard, his enormous mass taking up much of the space that was not occupied.
Aemon and Arthur climbed down, their arrival greeted by nods of the Holy Hundred that stood in awe at the sight of the three dragons, and by the appearance of Ser Willem Darry, a concerned look present on his face as he marched toward them both.
"My King, I am glad to see you have returned safely." Willem nodded, before looking to Arthur. "You too, Ser Arthur."
"Thank you, Willem. I see my sister and grandmother have already returned." Aemon smiled, looking to the two dragons behind him. However, he could not help but pick up the scent of smoke and brimstone. "Is everything alright?" He asked, looking at Willem.
"Well... it's best if you come inside and speak to the Queen yourself." Willem sighed, as he turned and began to walk into the manse.
Aemon and Arthur followed Willem through the labyrinthine halls of Illyrio's manse, the opulence of the surroundings doing little to soothe their growing unease. Aemon's mind raced with worry, his thoughts consumed by what Rhaella might have done to warrant such urgency. Arthur, walking beside him, mirrored his concern, the tension palpable between them.
Willem's silence was unsettling, and the occasional glances he cast over his shoulder only heightened their anxiety. The hallways seemed to stretch endlessly, each turn and corridor amplifying their apprehension.
As they neared the heart of the manse, Aemon's keen ears picked up a familiar, booming voice. Jon Connington's anger echoed through the halls, his words indistinguishable but his fury unmistakable. Aemon exchanged a worried glance with Arthur, both men steeling themselves for whatever awaited them.
The sound of Jon's voice grew louder with each step, and soon they could make out snippets of his tirade. "...reckless! Do you realize what you've done?" The words reverberated through the stone walls, each one a hammer blow to Aemon's nerves.
Finally, they reached a set of ornate double doors, slightly ajar. Willem hesitated for a moment before pushing them open, revealing the scene within. Rhaella and Daenerys stood together, their faces a mixture of defiance and guilt. Jon Connington, his face flushed with anger, paced back and forth, his eyes blazing with barely contained rage.
Aemon and Arthur stepped into the room, their presence drawing Jon's attention. The fury in Jon's eyes shifted to a simmering frustration as he regarded the newcomers. "Aemon," he said, his voice still trembling with emotion, "you need to hear this."
The tension in the room was palpable, and Aemon braced himself for whatever revelation was about to unfold. He looked to see Jaime and Illyrio standing near a corner of the room, their faces showing concern and worry for what was unfolding.
"What is the meaning of all this?" Aemon asked, his gaze immediately drawn to Rhaella and Daenerys, both of them standing resolute. "What has happened?"
"The Golden Company. They're gone, Aemon." Jon answered.
"For good reason," Rhaella interjected.
"There was no good reason-"
"Enough!" Aemon yelled, his voice commanding everyone's attention. "What do you mean? Are they dead? All of them?"
Jon only nodded in response, looking at Rhaella and Daenerys as he did so.
"They refused to fight for us, Aemon, and so I did what I had to do."
"So you burned them? All of them?." Aemon asked, walking into the center of the room as he did so, Arthur following closely behind. "That is just wonderful," Aemon said rubbing his eyes and sighing. "All those lessons on restraint and being calm that you taught me, Grandmother, and yet you go and do something as barbaric as that."
"Aemon they would have never fought for us. They were formed to put a Blackfyre on the throne, as I have told you countless times."
"Enough," Aemon growled, his frustration clear. "If I am to be King, I may as well start acting like it." Aemon decided, his voice sounding more mature and sure of itself. "From now on, you will all defer to me when it comes to advancing our cause. There will be no more of whatever this is, am I understood?"
Rhaella said nothing and only nodded in reply, her violet eyes hinting at the guilt that was building up inside of her.
"Now go, I will speak to Jon alone. I will see you both in a few hours." Aemon sighed, his voice calm but still commanding, as his piercing gray eyes watched both Rhaella and Daenerys shuffle from the room, their heads hung low.
Aemon took in a deep breath before exhaling and sitting at the table in the center of the room. "All of you, sit." He ordered everyone, as Jaime, Willem, Illyrio, and Arthur all sat around him, their full attention present on the young King. "You too, Jon," Aemon commanded, his eyes glaring at Jon who reluctantly sat down with a heavy sigh.
Aemon looked around at all the expectant faces staring at him, everyone seemingly ready for his command aside from Jon, Griffin Lord seemingly still angry and annoyed.
"Jon," Aemon continued, his gaze locking onto the fiery Targaryen loyalist, "your concerns are valid, but we must approach this with clarity and unity. Anger will not serve us now."
Jon Connington hesitated, the fire in his eyes flickering but not extinguished. He nodded curtly, recognizing the authority in Aemon's words.
"What Rhaella and Daenerys did was unacceptable, but what has been done cannot be undone. Besides, I'm not naive enough to believe they may have fought for us and if they didn't, they would have had to be dealt with regardless. If we do take the throne, I'd rather not have another Blackfyre rebellion on my hands."
Everyone around the table nodded, Aemon's orders clear to them all. "Now, from now on, no more of this infighting. We are all on the same side and we have more pressing matters to attend to."
"Of course, my King," Jaime answered. "We need to be united and together for the trials to come."
"Quite right, Ser Jaime." Aemon smiled. "Now, we must discuss our next steps, especially once Viserys returns, he will be important for what is to come."
"What did you have in mind?" Arthur asked, his eyes narrowing in curiosity.
Aemon leaned back in his chair, his mind racing on what to do. "We need alliances." He eventually said.
"Who? We already have the support of the Dornish." Willem added.
"What about those who fought for my Grandfather during the rebellion?" Aemon asked.
"The Tyrells?" Arthur wondered aloud.
"I have heard from our friend in King's Landing that they have a daughter. The same age as Aemon." Illyrio smiled, his gaze averting to Aemon.
"You suggest a marriage?" Aemon blustered, the redness in his cheeks showing as he thought about marriage.
"Why not? You're a dragon rider and the rightful King. Those grasping roses are always looking to climb higher than their station." Illyrio replied.
"I...have never thought about it. What is her name?"
"Margaery."
"Margaery..." Aemon repeated, before looking at Arthur. "What say you, Arthur, fancy a trip to the Reach?" He smiled, looking toward the Sword of the Morning.
"I am yours to command, my King." Arthur sighed, a small smirk appearing on his face as he did so. "Though, I say we wait for Viserys to return first."
"Of course, Ser Arthur." Aemon grinned.
Aemon's gaze swept across his council, his heart swelling with the promise of what lay ahead. "We have faced many challenges, but together, we will rise above them. Our legacy will endure, and the dragons will soar once more. For House Targaryen."
The room echoed with the resolve of their words, a promise sealed by the strength of their unity. As they parted ways for the night, each man carried the weight of their mission with a sense of purpose and destiny.
Together, they would forge a new path, one that would lead House Targaryen to its rightful place at the pinnacle of power.
Thanks for reading. Also, thanks for the reviews, they genuinely help with my writing and let me know if I've got anything wrong. Regardless, sorry for the slow update, I recently got my hands tattooed so I've struggled to write a little bit. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it, and thanks again. Much love x.