Daemon flew through a day and a night to the surroundings of Harrenhal, landing Caraxes on the tallest tower, and the Bloodwyrm let out a screech that woke the castle and won them the first victory in the war.
Harren's tomb was as haunting as the last time he was here. The hall of a thousand hearths had been filled to the rafters with Lords and Ladies when the realm came together to make his brother the Prince of Dragonstone.
An old man and his family came to meet him when he exited the tower.
"I am taking Harrenhal, Lord... " He declared so.
"Simon Strong, my Prince." Simon Strong was an elderly and portly man. His hair had become grey, and shadows were under his eyes. And of course, the castle is yours. We hadn't the strength to repel your dragon if we could."
Daemon walked towards the man. His eyes glanced at the boys behind him and assumed they must be his sons and grandsons. "I require strength, my Lord. Send for House Strong's levies."
"I don't know if they will come; as you see, I am naught but a castellan... Larys is." That may be so, but the Master of Whispers is not in the castle, and so is not the Lord of said castle.
"A traitor as he sits on my usurping nephew's council." He said plainly and loudly, "Harrenhal is mine now, and I order for the banners to be called and a raven sent to Riverrun."
Before then, he had thought of flying to Bloodstone and burning Baelon's fort and maybe a few dozen ships, but his gut said to come here, to set up his and Rhaenyra's powerbase while she sent for their allies.
Of course, he is confident that Caraxes could take on Archonei. The Last Shadow was swift but no less big than Seasmoke or Syrax.
Harrenhal is the priority, however.
Simon chuckled and nodded to his command, "Of course, my Prince... " Prince? He'll have none of that, not anymore with his wife's rise in station.
"King, Lord Strong. I am the King." He turned and removed his gloves, "I would have a room to lie in, and sheep for my dragon. He is quite famished."
"Of course... My King."
Simon gifted him what he said was his best room, yet Daemon felt as restless as he had ever been since the conflict had begun. The castellan had even invited him for supper, but he refused, wishing to rest and eager to get out of his armor.
Rhaenyra and he had been at odds, she believes Baelon had little to do with Viserys death. Daemon looked above the ceiling of his chamber from his bed. Anger stewed in his mind at his brother's sons and not just Baelon but the Greens, their cunt of a mother and leech of a grandsire in Otto.
A smile grew on the Rogue Prince, and he would take much joy in removing the man's head after this.
Before leaving Dragonstone, Otto Hightower and a small retinue had come to terms. They were laughable and clear aims to put them in line.
The terms were that Rhaenyra would be made ruler of Dragonstone, Jace her heir, and Lucerys be made the next Lord of the Tides after Corlys. Worse came when the man said that Joffrey, Aegon, and Viserys would be given places of honor in Aegon the Elder's court.
He was thankful that Rhaenyra denied them, holding to her rightful claim over the realm and the Iron Throne. A few days later, he left for Harrenhal, Jacaerys to the Vale, and then the North, and Lucerys flew to Storm's End to treat with Borros Baratheon.
Getting up, Daemon went out to clear his head and ease his restless thoughts. His stroll took him to Harrenhal's gnarled and dead weirwood tree.
There was something strange about it, strange and it made him as uneasy as he was when he arrived.
Caraxes wasn't far and lifted his head up, hissing, which caused Daemon to turn and see a woman standing near the entrance to the area.
She was pale, with long black hair and haunting green eyes. She kept her eyes on him without blinking, and he started to feel as if she were piercing his very soul. "Who are you?" he questioned, and she merely smiled in response.
"You will die in this place, Your Grace... " Her voice was so calm, almost sweet, that she turned her back and headed back inside the castle walls, leaving Daemon in confusion.
Nonsense, he thought. "I won't die, not yet." he was determined not to.
The next morning, he began surveying the castle defenses as the raven flew from the rookery to call on Lord Grover Tully and begin assembling the Riverlands army.
He also informed Rhaenyra that they have their toehold and could begin this war in earnest.
Rhaenyra sat in a chair inside her chambers within Dragonstone's keep.
Her mind went over the absurd terms that Otto said Aegon offered her for the end of hostilities. It was clear that having her younger sons serve as squires and cupbearers was a disguise to make them hostages.
She refused, expectedly so, even when Otto had Maester Orwyle bring her a ripped page from years ago.
It occurred shortly before Baelon was born, before her mother would die. She was having conflicted feelings about it all, and Alicent was reading her a book on Princess Nymeria and her grand voyage to find a home.
She ripped the page herself and laughed with her friend, but it was so long ago, and many things have changed since then.
"His Grace wishes peace for all, Princess. For the ties between you and the shared grief in the murder of King Viserys." Murder? More lies forced by the Greens to justify their power grab on her birthright.
The memory of her approaching Otto and ripping the Hand's pit from his coat, "Baelon is as much a murderer as you are Hand or Aegon is King. Liars and traitors."
"It is the truth, just as it was when Viserys willed for Aegon to be King." Otto sighed and stepped back, "Consider the King offered terms, Princess. We shall wait for a reply."
She had an impulse to burn them where they stood, but the burden she now carried stayed on her tongue.
It would be a day before she sent a raven to King's Landing with her own terms: She would have her throne, or she would have their heads.
Gathering her allies, she ordered Jacaerys to fly on Vermax to the Eyrie and then to Winterfell, and Lucerys to take her message to Storm's End on Arrax to remind Borros of the promise and obeisance his father swore to her years ago.
She knew and expected Lucerys to return faster than Jace, but even then, she worried, wondering if she should have sent Rhaenys in Luke's place. Jace was right in that instance: "Seeing us deliver your messages would give you more legitimacy than a raven."
"Your Grace."
She looked up and saw Harrold, "Yes?"
"Prince Lucerys Velaryon has returned... " She needn't hear anything else and leaves with her Lord Commander. "Erryk Reports that the Prince is sullen. I don't think the journey went well."
"He may, in fact, be worn from the flight, Ser." She said in response, then smiled, "I am happy that you and Ser Erryk came to me, especially you, Ser Harrold."
"I couldn't let such treason stand, My Queen." Such loyalty. She dearly appreciates it.
Reaching the dragonmont's entrance, she saw Lucerys speaking to Baela and Rhaena. When her son saw her, he approached and turned his eyes to the floor.
"What was Lord Baratheon's reply?" Rhaenyra asked, and as her son debriefed her on what transpired, she frowned and felt the worry creep up her spine.
Borros Baratheon regrettably chose to side with Aegon, betrothing one of his daughters to Aemond, an exceptional young man and the rider of Vhagar.
Rhaenyra then despaired when Luke said how Baelon declared himself the rightful King and had put himself forward to marry Borros eldest daughter, "He said he would make a Baratheon his Queen, as Jocelyn should have been."
Then Aemond besmirched both his brother, denouncing him a kinslayer and her son a bastard of House Strong.
Luke was told to return. "He said that he wasn't a dog to whistle up and set against our foes," Lucerys recounted. She sighed, disappointed with herself, and thought that she should have gone to treat Lord Baratheon. "I am sorry, Mother. I failed you."
"No, Luke, you didn't." She leaned back in her chair, they were sat within the hall and near a hearth. "What else happened?"
"I left, but I did hear a faint sound in the distance."
Luke said he swore he heard and saw a blast of flame just as he left Shipbreaker Bay, but she hoped he was unsure. It was much too early for the two, now three factions, to set dragons loose upon one another.
Rhaenyra had smiled however, "I am happy you came home, safe and sound."
"I would fly again, Mother, if you bade me to." Not when the Greens and Baelon are willing to launch their dragons into battle.
"Rest, my sweet. It's been an arduous return from the Stormlands, and I am sure that Arrax wants to feed and rest." Lucerys nodded, cupped her son's cheek before rising from her seat. "Ser Harrold, I wish to gather the war council and make changes to our plans; the hill we charge up had grown exponentially."
Alicent wanted to scream, hearing her son tell his horrid tale and how he attacked Baelon at Storm's End.
She was surprised that Borros didn't renege on siding with them for it.
Her stepson's dragon put up a fierce fight above the clouds, causing bleeding on Vhagar's belly that would surely not heal for a moon or more. "How could you be so reckless, Aemond?" she chastised.
"He took my brother's sword, and I only meant to retrieve it," Aemond said, unchanged in expression.
Her father pinched the bridge of his nose at the explanation, "A feckless and blind action. We sent you to gain Borros aid as an envoy, not a warrior, and now you besmirch our honor by chasing the Kingslayer on his dragon."
Aegon slammed his hand on the table and caught all of their attention, "Let us cease this at once ludicrous lie we have pandered to the realm. All within this castle knew my father was dying any day." Rising, the King continued, "It was a miraculous accident he died when Baelon was there, Aemond meant well in trying to get my sword back."
"You would reward him for making us seem opportunists?" Alicent asked her son about her other son.
Aegon smiled, "We are opportunists, Mother. You and Grandfather wanted me to be King, so I am, and now we go to war to keep me on it."
"Just so, Brother." Aemond agreed.
Her sons are being foolish; she sighed and felt the urge to tug at her fingers as she did when she was a girl.
Aegon approached and patted Aemond on the shoulder. "I want to hold a feast for Aemond. He brought Baratheon to the fold, and now we wait for Fat Lord Tully, the Starks, and the Vale to answer." Her sons left the room, and now it was just her and her father.
She would have left if not for her worries.
"Father?"
Otto stopped writing his letters enough to look at her, "You wonder if we chose the wrong horse in this race?" She nodded.
She had been confident that when Aegon was King, the realm would be at peace and prosper for another half-century, but, Aegon has grown a little too comfortable with his newfound power and authority.
The hubris of a crown.
"I thought to support Baelon; alas, Hobert was blind with ambition and made his aims clear when Aegon left his infancy." Her father was ever dutiful to his older brother, just as she was dutiful to him. "We have made our beds, and now... I will do my best to ensure we come out of this conflict alive."
Rhaenyra would execute them all, as was made in her reply to Aegon's terms.
"That is all that can be done, then." She left the chamber and took a deep breath, walking down the hall and leading towards her chamber with Criston.
Night had started to fall when Helaena came to her with her children following as it was their custom to spend time with one another before bed. Seeing Maelor playing with his dragon toy made her smile, as was seeing Jaehaerys draw on paper.
Helaena glanced up at her, "You are unwell, Mother." Her daughter said, she had been feeling disturbed in the stomach lately.
"I am fine, Helaena." She paused for a moment before saying, "I smell dragon. Have you flown today?"
Helaena smiled, "Yes, Dreamfyre had become a little restless... "
"Do you still worry about the rats? Aegon said you were concerned a day ago." Aegon told her that she was really strange, even when he assured her that the Red Keep would be rodent-clean by the next moon, though it was a lie, only to assure his wife that all was well.
Her girl stopped weaving for a moment to think, then started to continue with her work. "Not anymore," she said, and Alicent placed a hand on her daughter's shoulder. To her surprise, she didn't flinch away.
Time with her child and grandchildren made her feel at ease, enough to allow her to go to her chamber with thoughts of good fortune for tomorrow.
She taught her chamber and stopped short of entering. Turning, she gave a subtle smile to her guard, Criston, who was patrolling the halls and now followed her to her room, where she would remain for the entire night.
Since Viserys death, she had been free enough to focus on her own wants and desires and Criston was enough to satisfy her.
Alicent moaned with newfound pleasure as she rode the knight, allowing him to cup her breasts. She reached her climax several minutes later and crumpled atop of the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.
She didn't love doing this with Viserys, even though they were fond of one another, platonically. "It was a duty," she would tell herself whenever her husband told her to join him in the hours of the wolf or bat.
They made four children. She did what she could for them; she loved them, but she did not love their father.
Pleasant dreams filled her mind, but by the next morning, she was shaken by the reveal that Rhaenyra's husband had seized the castle of Harrenhal.
Aegon was furious, "I offered her an honorable peace, and the whore spat in my face!" The Small Council looked down as the King ran a tirade of insults and curses to Rhaenyra. "So what do we do, now that peace isn't obtainable, Mother? You were the one who vouched for this."
Thankfully, her father defended her, "The Queen Dowager vouched for a peaceful resolution to the issue, Your Grace." The Hand then continued to speak, "Now we gather our hosts and break her supporters."
There are a vast number of families who foolishly back Rhaenyra's claim; a great many live here in the Crownlands.
Aegon sat down and looked at all assembled, even Aemond, who was allowed to attend by order of the King. "To war then, my Lord Hand."
Dorne had thrown back armies large and small countless times throughout the thousands of years, they protected their lands fiercely even when Nymeria of the Rhoynar arrived on her ten-thousand ships.
They held back the wave that was the Targaryen Dynasty for nearly 131 years. From Aegon the Conqueror to now.
Unbowed. Unbent. Unbroken.
It was a people who were as hot-blooded as the sands they ruled upon, and they had killed dragonriders before as Rhaenys, wife of Aegon I was breathing fire and blood on the Dornishmen when a scorpion bolt pierced Meraxes eye and felled one of the largest dragons at the time.
Baelon looked down at Sunspear. Its people fled in terror as he soared low, landing within the courtyard of the Old Palace, which had been built after the Rhoynish union between the First Men who lived here.
"Lykirī, Archonei."
A dozen Dornish guards flooded the yard as nobles and servants scattered from Archonei's presence.
The head of them wore the Martell sigil on his chest, flowing dark hair that went just past his face and barely touched his shoulders. "What are you doing in Dorne, Dragonlord?" Baelon dismounted and laid a hand on Blackfyre just in case he had to unsheath it, though he relaxed after a moment.
"I am Baelon Targaryen, first of my name, and I have come to parley with Princess Aliandra Martell, ruler of Dorne."