A/N: This took me much longer than expected due to having to stay an entire five weekdays late out at work, leaving me exhausted with little time and energy to write.

Thanks to Wobb Nox, filipinosberman and Ascalon on SB for beta-ing.

Chapter LVIII: Broken Fates, Part IV

29 AC
Third Moon
Tyroshi Mainland
Maegor Targaryen

It was infuriating, it was senseless, it went against all his wishes and his sensibilities.

To think that he would get a minor commendation for felling the barrier that defended Tyrosh City, while his dragonless sister Elaegelle would be lauded the hero of the battle for killing that Demon!? He, who by all rights should be credited more than her!?

"Damn it! Damn it all!"

He trashed his temporary accommodations in his fury, venting his anger on all manner of inanimate objects in his path. Chairs, beds, cushions, tables, everything. Not even clay pots and vases were left intact, thrown to the ground and shattering into fragments upon impact.

"Of all the people…! Of all the people!"

They said that she had awoken her powers, that she was able to fly like a dragon herself and slay a powerful demon who had slaughtered the entire Council of Tyrosh like lambs. Her powers - granted by her mark - gave her the ability to completely subvert an evil artefact of the Midnight Scourge to their advantage, allowing them to enter Tyrosh City unmolested.

Only when his rage subsided did he see the complete and utter mess he made, piles of refuse littering his room like an avalanche had tarnished the place. He heard the door open, and he turned to face a Targaryen guard who took in the scenery and held his tongue, second-guessing his words.

"What?" He demanded.

"H-Her Grace Queen Visenya asks that you meet with her in the Council Chambers, to discuss important matters," The guard informed.

Maegor sighed, deflating like a balloon.

"Lead me there," Maegor ordered.

"At once, Your Highness," The guard saluted.

No matter what, the one person he could never truly defy was his own mother, whom he loved with all his heart and soul.

IIOII

She felt her body burning in fire, the flames licking every inch of her skin, every strand of hair.

Pain assaulted her senses, like hot iron rods being driven through flesh and bone, her brain feeling as if it was being pushed through a strainer. She wanted to scream, to call for help and beg for this pain to stop, but her voice came through as a faint whimper, as if her throat had suffered catastrophic damage.

"I'm burning…"

It was perpetual agony, feeling the heat consume every inch of her body. Her body neither burned nor charred, but neither did the pain subside, stabbing her like thousands of hot irons cauterising her body.

"My throat… so dry…"

She wanted it to stop, she willed it to stop, but it never stopped.

"Do not fight the fire, control it, bend it to thine will."

Her heart stopped, the words booming and ringing in her ears like an echo in a cave.

"Am I hearing things…?"

"Thou art a dragon, fire is thine power. Do not fear it, control it, master it, make it a part of thee. Make it thine power."

The voice sounded like a strict teacher instructing his student on how to properly master the fundamentals of sorcery, stern yet patient, not overly egotistical and proud and treating the student as a trophy to brazenly display to others without consideration.

"But how…?" She found herself asking, "I'm a Human being."

"One who holds the power of magic in thine veins," Boomed the reverberating voice, brimming with power and authority and carrying the weight of countless millennia, "Let it flow through you, let thine blood call to thine fire, let the dragon's blood sing and answer thee as servants answers master."

"But I am no dragon," She said, her voice suddenly breaking, "I cannot ride a dragon as my siblings and parents did, I…"

"Thou art not a failure, prithee wash away thine low self-esteem, little dragon," The voice reassured, "Thou art a mighty warrior, a general and beloved leader of men. Trust in thine instincts, thine power and strength."

She focused her mind, willing herself to not be afraid of the fire. Despite her pain, her blood sang in delight, eager to tame this power for the glory of its master and progenitor. She willed herself to command it, control it, and treat the fire as a mere extension of her power.

"Flames, I command you, lend me your power," She said, her voice clear and free of doubt.

The flames subsided, flowing into her hand until they were consumed by the mark of Balerion on her hand. It felt warm to the touch, that same warmth spreading throughout her heart and making her feel alive with vigour, as if the flames welcomed her as their new master.

"Remember, child. Thou art mine blessed champion, mine agent in the world of men so capricious and evil subject to change by the agent of Mother Rhoyne," The voice said, "Continue to deepen thine bond with him, thine alliance of wealth and might, for one day the realm shall be torn asunder by egomaniacal players who think themselves above the source of their power."

"But how can I command might when I do not have a dragon of my own? Rather, why do dragons instinctively shy away from me when I try to approach them?" She questioned.

"They shy away because they fear your power, because you dominate all others with the power of the Father of All Dragons," The voice spoke, "There will come a time when you shall ride a dragon of your own, but not one owned by House Targaryen. The time will come when you meet her, and claim her as your own."

Then she felt the voice fade, and she instinctively reached out with her hand.

"Wait, please!"

Then blinding light entered her vision and she awoke.

IIOII

Elaegelle awoke with a gasp, not believing the dream she had.

"It was a dream…"

She looked around to see herself dressed in a white shift, kept in a clean bedroom with modest furnishings and a single window letting in the light of a joyous sunrise like a diamond's sparkle. The sound of chirping birds and fragrant roses filled her senses, allowing her to calm down from that earlier dream.

She saw a servant enter the room, bearing a tray of refreshments. Upon seeing her awake, the servant's face quickly changed to one of astonishment, placing down the tray with great care before walking towards her.

"Your Highness, you are awake!" The servant exclaimed.

"Yes, I am," Elaegelle answered.

"We feared for you when you would not awake after the siege of Tyrosh City, Your Highness; you were asleep for three whole days," The servant explained, "Your mothers and Lord Rada were filled with worry for you."

"Three whole days?" Elaegelle repeated, unsure of that fact.

"Yes, Your Highness. Three whole days," The servant affirmed, "You would not awake or even stir in that time."

"How did the battle go?" Asked Elaegelle.

"From what I know, after you killed that demon, the rest of the Scourge's troops pulled out and abandoned Tyrosh entirely, and they didn't attack us again," The servant explained, "I'm sorry, but that is all I know."

"Nevermind, thanks for telling me," Elaegelle assured, "Is there anything else I should know?"

"Ah, yes. An awards ceremony is due in two weeks' time, Your Highness, and you are to make yourself presentable for then," The servant answered.

Elaegelle nodded to herself, then said, "You're dismissed for now."

"Your Highness," The servant bowed.

As the servant left, Elaegelle stared down at the mark in her hand, pulsating with power. She absentmindedly stroked it, and felt a gentle warmth within, a power beckoning her to use it in her time of need. It was an ever-present temptation she never felt in her entire life until now, and for a girl mocked all her life for being unbonded with a dragon, it was a temptation she was ready to succumb to.

Then her memories flashed to the time when she fought that demon, when her powers awakened and she forcibly brought that artefact under her control, when she fought and killed that demon without the use of a dragon, while Maegor was stuck outside battering at a barrier that held firm through Human sacrifice.

"Should I truly use this power however I please…?" Elaegelle wondered, "Will there be long-term consequences if I abuse it?"

No one answered her in the ensuing silence.

IIOII

The awards ceremony was celebrated with much pomp and grandeur, held in the former Council Palace of Tyrosh as Queens Visenya and Rhaenys Targaryen stood at the forefront of a podium that once housed the seats of the Council of Tyrosh. Long gone were the magisters, and in their place a governing body of bureaucrats would take over the day-to-day administrative domestic affairs of the once-Free City.

Though several Tyroshi were initially apprehensive of the Westerosi as they occupied all its lands, they quickly became supportive of their efforts to purge the Midnight Scourge from their lands and that of Western Essos. With the magisters and their lackey servants dead, only the poor and downtrodden remained, far too many having lost property and loved ones to the demons.

Many went catatonic with grief, and they chose to take up arms, voluntarily enlisting into the various armies of the Iron Throne to obtain a chance for vengeance. For some, they wished to die in battle for glorious cause, to be reunited with their loved ones in what they all believed was a peaceful afterlife.

Others who were not so taken by grief, who yet held strength to live on, pursued other passions from intellectual work to craftsmanship or just general labour, eager to contribute to society.

Gathered was an audience of military commanders and officers of every rank, while their friends and family were to wait outside and await the good news.

Harrumphing audibly, the council chamber fell silent as Visenya addressed the crowd.

"Brave men and women of Westeros," Visenya began, "Today marks a joyous day - the fifteenth day - since we took the city of Tyrosh in an exceptionally risky gamble, a day we celebrate the death of a fetid demon of the Midnight Scourge wearing a magister's skin, one of the foul perpetrators of this plague rotting the societies of the western Free Cities and posing a threat to the king's peace."

"Hear, hear!" A man cheered when Visenya paused in her speech, a voice countless many echoed.

"On the day of the battle itself, many aspirant generals proved their worth in dragonfire, slaughtering our enemies with impunity and turning the tide in our favour!" Rhaenys declared, "And of special note are those who contributed to taking the city from the inside, when our dragonfire could not pierce the barrier that protected the city itself - a barrier fed by Human sacrifice!"

Countless nobles and non-nobles alike muttered prayers to their respective patron deities, hoping that the souls of the departed would find peace after a life of torment. A select few purpled in rage, looking not-so-subtly at a specific woman in military dress who looked unphased by the hard stares.

"First, Maegor Targaryen!"

Maegor himself looked rather surprised, but his expression quickly morphed into pride as he stepped forward, receiving a ceremonial Valyrian Steel dagger.

"You, my dear son, performed most admirably against the navies of the Midnight Scourge, scorching countless ships and mutants and stifling the flow of enemy reinforcements who would have otherwise overwhelmed our troops on the ground, and even scorched countless nests from whence they bred their armies of flesh," Visenya said smilingly, "For your deeds, I shall reward you with a thousand units of treasure and command of five thousand troops."

"Thank you, Mother," Maegor smiled as he withdrew gracefully.

Next came several other lords and ladies - the latter from Dornia and Sonaria - as they received their respective awards, primarily treasure and prestige. Bestowment of lands to new lords had to be delayed, however, due to the ever-present threat of the Midnight Scourge that threatened the security of all in the Disputed Lands.

For Arin Rada, who wished to complete his control of the Stepstones through control of the island-city of Tyrosh, his plans would have to wait. He, among many others, received commendations and monetary rewards for their meritorious service.

The men of Tegonia, most notably under command of Brandyll Tarly, distinguished themselves in countless battles, the most recent one catapulting them to legendary status. Several Smallfolk were even knighted and many hedge knights raised to Lordly status.

The men of Eckard Blodfeld drew both derision and envy from less successful Andal nobles who failed to distinguish themselves enough, feeling that these northern savages had stolen glory that was rightfully theirs. Sharing their derision were several other Sonarian nobles, for Northmen often discriminated against the Crannogmen of the Neck for being weak and small and lacking developed industry, subsisting on hunting, fishing and catching frogs.

In regards to that, Arin merely suggested that the Crannogmen lacked a diverse and healthy diet with so little food to subsist on. Eckard invested heavily in fields that allowed Gosmerch to produce much more food than they ever had in living memory, and successive generations of Crannogmen grew larger and stronger in stature.

Jokingly, it was remarked that unless they explicitly pointed out their place of birth, the new Crannogmen looked no different from an ordinary Human being.

Per Arin's recommendation, Eckard was promoted to a full-fledged general, and was personally gifted seven hundred units of treasure with a hundred of the finest steeds from Dornia and Tegonia (The Reach), along with favourable trade deals directly with the Crown.

Then finally, it was Elaegelle's turn.

"Elaegelle Targaryen, step forward!"

Maegor and his lackeys glared at Elaegelle as she strode forward confidently yet humbly, bowing before Visenya as she smiled softly with pride at her daughter.

"My dear daughter, you have slain a powerful demon in service to the Midnight Scourge, and the one responsible for slaughtering the Magisters of Tyrosh and countless men and women in the city, and helped turn the tide in our favour," Visenya said, her smile tinged by weariness and fatigue from the constant fighting, "For your deeds, I present you one thousand and five hundred units of treasure, and by recommendation of Grand Duke Arin Rada himself, I promote you to the rank of Lieutenant-General!"

This announcement was met with rapturous applause by the men of the Sand Dragon Battalion and countless officers from Dornia, who celebrated this most jubilantly. Arin hugged Elaegelle once she received the ceremonial dagger, followed by her captains and Ser Jaehaerys who embraced her like long-time friends.

Many sagacious politicians among the audience shared discreet whispers, fiercely debating among themselves with the common topic being Elaegelle Targaryen. Once a woman considered false-blessed, cursed even, now she was the saviour of a battle that could have gone catastrophically wrong, the slayer of a powerful demon. Her name would be synonymous with bravery, courage and sagaciousness, and with the mark of Balerion on her hand, she would now be considered blessed by the Gods - pagan gods, not the holy Seven-who-are-One.

Many Andals especially frowned upon this, but chose to bite their tongues and swallow their pride, maintaining the outward facade of loyalty and support. More perspicacious players soon realised the opportunities presented towards them if they curry favour with the rising star general of House Targaryen. Perhaps they could request a place in her Sand Dragon Army, or secure their position as her backers and allies in the court of Daro Vilinion (King's Landing). Maegor's personality was proving highly problematic for the calmer and greedier bootlickers, while Aenys's consistent passivity and ease of influence by other parties made him a preferable option as a puppet king.

"Thank you, Mother."

There was no need for unnecessarily complicated platitudes, just heartfelt gratitude in that moment.

The Dornian side gave rapturous applause and cheers of joy and support, some even giving catcalls and whistles in a most unprofessional show of breaking decorum. Neither Visenya nor Rhaenys seemed bothered, instead joining in the applause.

"That will be all for the awards ceremony," Rhaenys stated, "The war rages on, but for now we shall focus on defence for the next three months. Make sure to replenish your losses and restock your supplies for the battles to come."

With that dismissal, most of the audience quickly filtered out of the council chambers. Elaegelle and her friends and allies stayed, eager to catch up on things.

"Congratulations, Elaegelle," Arin smiled, "You've become a full-fledged general now."

"I'm flattered, Arin," Elaegelle smiled back, "Should I be rewarded with a kingdom now? My army will need a base of operations."

"Not so fast, Elaegelle, there's a proper time and place for everything," Arin halted her smilingly.

"Really? I thought you'd give me land in Dornia; there's plenty of empty space ripe for the taking," Elaegelle suggested.

Despite having a population of over eight million in Dorne and continuing to rise with more surviving births and freed slaves migrating to the Duchy, there were ample tracts of land to settle with how underpopulated it was. In fact, according to estimates done by Arin and the Ducal Bureaucracy, it would easily take the better part of three centuries to significantly populate [1] those large tracts of empty land. The same applied for the North, coincidentally.

"Have I not already granted you a base in Dornia?" Arin pointed out.

"Fair enough," Elaegelle shrugged.

"Looks like you're really moving up the world, Elie; took me years more to get to your current rank."

Azella Rada, Khaleesi of the Bhreynar of Dornia [2, stood out like a warrior-queen of old, striking a curvaceous and dashing demeanour and forsaking dresses and slippers for trousers and boots. Her face now bore a vertical scar from her bottom lip to the bottom of her chin, a thin pink line that stood out despite persistent healing from Hydromancers.

"Really? From your tone, I thought you didn't want me to start stealing the spotlight from you," Elaegelle suggested.

"Come on, Elie; you know I was rooting for you," Azella playfully said, "That, and I've been busy playing with Temujin many, many times."

Temujin merely blushed, but he easily melted into his wife's embrace, the poor, hapless boytoy completely at the mercy of his wife's advances. Arin merely shrugged, while others shook their heads in amusement.

"We've also been training the troops and integrating the freed Dothraki," Temujin pointed out, "Mediation's an altogether different beast to slay."

"Don't we all know it," Vilarr shrugged.

"I, for one, have nothing but the utmost respect for mediators who make the work seem effortless," Ser Jaehaerys mentioned, "If I were thrust into such a battlefield, I fear I may only catastrophically ruin negotiations."

"Cause you prefer bashing their heads in?" Vilarr suggested.

"Fourteen forbid, no! I'm no barbaric savage or bloodthirsty brute!" Jaehaerys denied in exasperation, "I merely meant that I'm no good at dealing with all the brown-nosing, double-meaning barbs and implied agendas!"

"Relax, I'm just pulling your leg," Vilarr rolled his eyes.

"Hmph, at least the professional has a sense of humour," Jamaqhor scoffed, smiling as he took a swig of Khomas [3] from his waterskin, "Though I'll admit, I don't have much patience for all those assholes either; I'd sooner cleave them in two."

"And here I thought you Bhreynar are better-behaved than your other counterparts," Vilarr mentioned.

"Meh, if they want to remain like that, let them. No one forced them to," Jamaqhor mentioned.

"I'm all for hunting down the slaving scum, but the Midnight Scourge is the greatest threat we've faced so far," Temujin piqued, "If anything, they now believe the Disputed Lands cursed due to the horrendous fates that befell those foolish enough to try raiding here."

In the midst of war with the Midnight Scourge, several Dothraki khalassars were driven west after failed raids on Daerian territory, eager to find greener pastures to plunder. At the time, none knew the true scale of evil that pervaded what the Essosi called the Verdant Heel, and they soon learned firsthand why people now called the region cursed.

Countless men were slain and reanimated as mutants, the women defiled and the children turned into killing machines. Those Dothraki who had yet to cross into the region instantly warned their fellow kindred against crossing into the 'Land of Demons', and stayed well away since.

"At least the constant flow of Dothraki refugees into Dornia has allowed the Bhreynar to flourish," Azella mentioned, "The fewer monstrous Dothraki and the greater the Bhreynar, the better."

"You always were the soft type," Temujin mentioned.

"Would you rather I be different?" Asked Azella.

Temujin embraced her smilingly.

"No, I love you as you are," He said.

Since Azella's maiden battle, an agreement was reached with Daeria after extensive negotiations to have the refugees and freed slaves of every defeated Khalassar shipped to Dornia, where they could start a new life as Bhreynar. Many migrated to Arpaz Tyl, many more settled in the surrounding regions.

Needless to say, there was much nail-pulling and teeth-grinding among the Daerian captains, countless of them former slaves who once suffered the tender mercies of Dothraki raids, but Azella's clout from winning many battles in helping Daeria served to earn her this much concession.

"That being said, we still have Myr, Lys and Braavos to deal with," Arin put forth, and the mood turned sombre, "And according to our scouts' latest reports, Pentos has been overrun."

"Will they try to spread their reach even further?" Questioned Jamaqhor, "I wouldn't put it past these fuckers."

"They would, if given the chance," Arin nodded, "Our saving grace is that with the steady string of defeats we've dealt them, they're conserving their forces for now, since they're not expanding any further."

"At least there's one thing to take as a silver lining," Azella said.

"Don't let your guard down, all of you," Arin said, "There'll be more battles to come, and the enemy will improve themselves to match our dedication, so expect much harsher odds stacked against us."

"As you say, Arin," Elaegelle.

"Aye, Grand Duke," Jamaqhor smiled.

[1] While it would be possible to expand the number of births through magic besides reducing infant mortality rates, it often took much longer to expand the infrastructure needed to feed a greater number of hungry mouths, which would strain logistics to the limit.

[2] The Bhreynar have expanded their numbers rapidly through assimilated Dothraki refugees, allowing them to replenish Bhreynar units that sustained casualties at war, though they have also taken an increasing number of non-Bhreynar units into their ranks as well, once they passed exacting requirements.

[3] Khomas - The Bhreynar version of Mongolian Kumis. Derived from Dothraki 'lamekh ohazho' (fermented mare's milk) 'mas(ar)' (treasure, valuables).