The Tartered Dragon - Aegon, Son of Baelon

by mootjeman7

An man from our world is reborn in the world of ASOIAF and decides to make the best out of it through adventure yet it never is that easy, even for a third prince. OC-SI - Overlaps with HOTD.

34. Chapter 33

CH32 Reviews:

Tony McNucklz - Yep. He overstepped. This chapter addresses the situation ;). Everyone looks forward to the Daemon-Aegon reunion, haha.

Trado - The first part is a bit important as it shows the continued growth (both magically and in understanding) of Aegon. And yeah, Lord Celtigar and Vaemond got given the short straw. Basically were sent out with a highly offensive letter with only a shield of being people who are related to people Aegon cares about.

LongingResider - Yup, something is cooking in the background! I look forward to seeing what all of your reactions are.

coldblue2015 - Aegon will be a prolific writer though most of it will be technological, philosophical, matters about law and moral right, etc. The most sensitive matters of magic and his understanding of the universe will be kept in the royal library in Elamaerys.

1 - the magic will be heading somewhere cool, at least that is what i hope you guys get from it! And Yes, Viserys fucked up (this chap addresses that)

MangoesDeep - Yes, probably a bit too long. Rambled a bit too I think. It was meant to show the kind of questions Aegon asks himself all the time. He is basically starting from zero when it comes to magic and the way the universe works you see the level of the enormity that he faces.

CH32 Reviews:

Dscot - Correct. It will have consequences but Aegon stopped caring too much after the guilt he was feeling. Plus with it not having an effect on him and his people (the people will be placed at the edge of Velos away from where he places those he wants), it was an easy solution. The Regency Councils will have to deal with it.

Abyss Trinity - Because Viserys will be in denial. Because this situation is already FUBAR. The moment he remarried, despite the fact that Aegon is certain that Jaehaerys had warned Viserys off of it, Aegon believes that the man is too irresponsible for it.

coldblue2015

- 1) No. I will get that out now. No sword fights with Daemon.

- 2) this chapter explains the path :)

freeraynman - You'll enjoy this chapter then!

LongingResider - This chap explains a little for your interest. And yes, the reunion with Gael and the kids will be great! And yes, Zhozznizzi is a realist. I'm silently rooting for her, haha.

Tony McNucklz - Re Trading: Yes but they do have a lot 'sameness'. They are also immature when it comes to capitalism and competitiveness. It's very local and very ember-like. Having 'trades' that are 'unique' has often been the biggest income. And yes, I agree, Aegon would see Daemon as immature though I would say that he'd try and not antagonise him into a swordfight. It gets him nowhere. He wins, Daemon gets even more irritating and has his pride damaged = not good and will be problematic. He loses, Daemon gets irritating and affects his position which must be as untouchable as possible.

Everyone, Thank you for your reviews and comments, I always read them even if I don't respond to them. As always, please enjoy this chapter and let me know what you think.

Note: If you would like to read ahead, the next three chapters after this chapter are available on P. .^T.^R.^E.^O.^N./ Boombox117

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Mid to Late 113 AC – Kings Landing

Lord Lyonel Strong, Hand of the King POV

"To Viserys Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms,

Let it be known that I do not recognise Viserys Targaryen's, the First of His Name, claim of authority of me and mine."

Grandmaester Mellos paused in his reading and took to look towards the King, a painting of weariness and nervousness on his face. With Lord Commander Thorne at his back, a darkening look rising on His Grace's expression, the tension in the room grew to feverish levels and Lyonel withheld a grimace at it all.

"Continue, Grandmaester. Let us hear what more Aegon has to say."

The calm voice was betrayed by the growing fury in the King's posture.

Lyonel exchanged looks with the Grandmaester.

It had been wise to have the delegation wait outside the Small Council chambers instead of having them present and hearing this treason.

The delegation had returned only this eve, having expected their return to the Realm to be imminent when they'd received a raven from Tarth forewarning them.

His Grace had them brought up the Red Keep without a moment's pause, wishing to hear the news of the delegation as soon as possible. Lyonel had seen the King's look towards the heavens with disappointment, likely hoping and expecting to see the maroon and navy coloured dragon above Kings Landing.

It had always been an optimistic expectation, Lyonel had warned His Grace, for Prince Aegon to return with immediate haste but the hope had been that Prince Aegon would provide his agreement to return as soon as he was able.

All nought but a shattered dream now with the explosive and slighting response from the King's youngest brother, worse likely to come, and Lyonel felt himself to blame for the dangerous failure. His failure.

He'd been the one to advocate the King to make demands of Prince Aegon and this was the result of his council to His Grace. An abject failure that could seriously impede His Grace's rulership for years to come should the Realm learn of it.

And worst of all, the chance of restoring any level of royal control over all dragons was severely under threat now.

He needed to help resolve the matter if His Grace had still want of his services…

"As you wish, Your Grace." Grandmaester Mellos said with a supplicant bow of the head before he continued after a clearing of the throat.

"Let it be known that I do not recognise any claims of authority or Headship over me and my branch of House Targaryen. Viserys, the First of His Name, disinherited me and my line in the year 105 of Aegon's Conquest –" Lyonel closed his eyes momentarily as he sighed silently at the usage of the disinheritance to remove His Grace's authority over himself and his issue. "– without just cause and has consequently disqualified himself of any position of authority of me and mine in his unjustness and betrayal of any and all bonds of blood and kinship that has existed between brother and brother."

The Grandmaester continued even as His Grace gripped tightly onto the arms of his seat, causing it creak, a rare sign of strength from the ailing King..

"Let it be known that I do not recognise any claims from Viserys Targaryen, the First of His Name, or any scion of House Targaryen not born of the Union between Aegon Targaryen, son of Prince Baelon Targaryen, and Princess Gael Targaryen, daughter of King Jaehaerys Targaryen, the First of His Name, on the lands I have named Elamaerys, which includes the mainland and all of its isles, and reject any such notions of claim or privilege with complete totality.

Should Viserys Targaryen, the First of His Name, find fault with my assertions, I welcome him to come and make me see reason in the same vein in which he has written to me.

Aegon Targaryen of Elamaerys, son of Prince Baelon Targaryen."

The silence that followed after the Grandmaester's reading of the response from Prince Aegon was deafening, a silence that was only broken by the noise of the tense stiffening of the Lord Commander.

"Treason." The Grandmaester muttered. "He speaks treason."

Lyonel found little fault in the assessment, and, as he looked towards the dark look of the King and on the Lord Commander, he knew they thought so too.

Treason was on the mind of all.

'Come and make me see reason in the same vein he has written to me…' That part of the letter was the most disturbing part in the letter for the Prince was challenging His Grace to make Prince Aegon to submit before His Grace through force of arms instead of through the force of royal right and command, which Prince Aegon has rejected entirely.

What was almost as disturbing as the contents of the letter was how His Grace's expression, dark and furious, began to turn cold and intense in a way that he'd not seen personally.

Lyonel understood.

Anyone with half a mind could understand. This was no more than a direct challenge to the power and authority of the Iron Throne…to Viserys personally.

Great shame flowed through Lyonel. He should have been able to advocate better paths to take. 'I should have counselled the King towards proper reconciliation rather than pushing the King demand reconciliation on his terms and with his demands'

Lyonel shook his head mind clear. The options now available to the King were startingly slim with few options able to prevent damage to His Grace's rule…

"Have Lord Celtigar and Sers Velaryons enter." His Grace said with a visibly angry and stern expression.

"Yes, Your Grace." The Lord Commander said with a bowed head before he went to carry out his task.

"Your Grace, we will have to extract everything from them." Lyonel said with warning in his voice. "And we will have to extract silence as well."

Lyonel expected that the three men knew at least some extent of what Prince Aegon had written to His Grace…of his treason. It was of great import to ensure they kept their tongues silent. Willingly or forcibly.

"I agree, Your Grace." The Grandmaester commented. "It would do no good for the Realm to learn of your brother's treason and disrespect to your person."

His Grace looked towards Lyonel and the Grandmaester and silently nodding, the angry and stern expression still worn though Lyonel could see something else warring on His Grace's expression.

After the three men had arrived before the King, the three men all looking increasingly perturbed under the angry gaze of His Grace, the harsh order came swiftly. "Tell me everything you have observed of my brother" His Grace said as he pinned the three men with a fixed look.

For the next two hours, the three men spoke of all that they had observed, and in between their recounting of their observations they answered His Grace's questions with as much detail as they could.

Though the number of questions that had come from His Grace had significantly petered down as the three men continued to speak of their observations about how angry Prince Aegon had been during their sole meeting and what he'd said, and it petered down even less when they discussed the achievements of Prince Aegon and all that they saw during their stay in Astapor.

They talked about how Prince Aegon had captured Astapor from the inside out using the Unsullied slaves and leading the slave rebellion, talked about how Yunkai had been taken without a single death of the slaves in the city through treachery and deception, how the slaves of Meereen had been riled up to rise in rebellion that lasted days and how Tolos and Elyria fell with just as much surety as the other cities.

They added they could not verify the scale of Prince Aegon's success but Ser Vaemond admitted that the tales were likely more true than they had seen thousands of men return from the war against Elyria with ships full of treasure being sent towards a fortified pyramid comparable to the Red Keep, adding that he suspected he wouldn't be surprised if his army was comparable to what the Stormlands would be able to muster.

The three men talked about how the cities were administrated by former slave peoples who Prince Aegon had taught in Corinth years before the 'liberation', a sign that told much about for how long the Prince had planned the war for, and how Prince Aegon was claimed to have no authority in the running of the cities although it was said that his influence was far reaching in the newly refashioned Liberty Bay.

He doubted that Prince Aegon had no authority, especially considering the recounting that had come later when His Grace had asked about the peoples of Liberty Bay and if the war waged by his youngest brother would have an effect on Westeros.

When it came to the perception the peoples of Astapor had of Prince Aegon and the 'liberation' he'd waged, he'd seen the youngest of the men grow somewhat nervous, something Lyonel thought mirrored with how Lord Celtigar and Ser Vaemond took to speak of the way Prince Aegon was perceived.

The descriptions were rushed over, said with dismissal, as if to wave away the words but Lyonel did anything but wave away their retelling, instead he pressed them to explain and when they did, Lyonel was surprised yet at the same time he was not given the context of it all although some of it confused him, the Grandmaester and His Grace.

They'd given descriptions of how the Prince was perceived as a saint, a blessed man by the gods, a hero of legend, and Lyonel was not surprised by this. To be freed from the evil beast that was slavery, at the mercy of immoral, cruel and merciless men…

It was a powerful debt to incur in the hearts of folk.

But what did confuse him was the explanation that some of the men in Prince Aegon's army considered him a prophet of all things.

Ser Vaemond explained Prince Aegon's finding of Elamaerys was considered to be shrouded with a veil of blessings ordained by the Seven themselves, according to what the delegates were able to understand from the men of Prince Aegon's army.

Ser Vaemond continued to speak that though most of the men in the army had not yet seen the lands, they had heard of the bountifulness of the lands and its pleasant climate that was beautiful as any lands one sets its eyes on.

Ser Vaemond added that though he was sceptical about the assertions, he was sure that these men believed it and also believed wholeheartedly in the 'blessed' nature of Prince Aegon and it is something that all three men believed was likely the common belief of the liberated cities of Liberty Bay.

Lyonel felt uncomfortable.

There was some reason to proclaim Prince Aegon blessed, especially given his feats and his profound discovery but to proclaim him a prophet?

It was blasphemy, he thought as he eyed the Grandmaester who looked on with a look of a consternation.

There were only Seven prophets acknowledged by the Seven-Pointed Star, and the last of the prophets, Allard, had been the one who had declared that the Seven had shown him the future of the Andals lay not in the Hills of Andalos but across the Narrow Sea where the Faith and the people of Andalos would spread to all corners and in time would spread throughout the Seven corners of the world.

To be proclaimed a prophet of the Seven…

It was blasphemy. The only saving grace was that it seemed like it was Aegon's people and the ignorant former slaves were the ones who were pushing the claim.

Though Lyonel was certain that unless Prince Aegon explicitly denied the claim, he'd be considered a blasphemer of the worst order. Lyonel grimaced lightly.

He was sure the Faith would pressure His Grace on this subject should they learn of the matter. Though the claims of Prince Aegon being 'blessed' could not be denied so easily, nor his piousness in his role to eradicate the grave sin of slavery in the savage parts of Essos, being proclaimed a prophet was many bridges too far.

The three men continued on in their explanation though there was one point that had him curious – and alarmed. Lord Celtigar admitted there was some strangeness about Prince Aegon's old scars, scars that left Prince Aegon one-eyed, much to his and His Grace's surprise, yet the delegates had observed the men speak as if the wounds had not been incurred years ago but…recent.

That had been the only thing they'd could learn about it.

The three also talked about the size of Prince Aegon's dragon, of how the beast seemed to have grown substantially, a similar size to Meleyse and Caraxes, which was worrying. Both dragons were at least two decades older than Mīsaragorn.

After they finished their retelling, Lyonel had been the first to speak up with the tacit permission of His Grace, whose expression of raw cold anger had melted away into a kind of sternness that Lyonel thought the King had merely adopted.

They'd talked about it plenty about how they were to receive the delegation and he'd been able to convince His Grace that himself and perhaps the Grandmaester should be there for the debriefing of the three men.

They were fortunate that His Grace had the wisdom to accept the constraint as he was certain that the contents of the letter and the reports of the three men would have been leaked to the rest of the Realm in no time.

As it was, it was a grave matter that had terrible potential for causing upheaval.

Prince Aegon's popularity was still deeply present in the Realm, particularly amongst the smallfolk who loved the idea of a Hero Prince in service of the Gods.

Some of it was reduced and redirected, of course, with the King's successful dismantling of Tyrosh as a prominent enemy to the Iron Throne and a city committed to ending the practice of slavery over the next five years, accredited as it was to His Grace and Prince Daemon, but it was less than so expected.

"Lord Celtigar, Ser Vaemond, Ser Daemion." Lyonel began with a calm but stern voice. "The contents of this letter and what you have learnt can never be disclosed."

"My Lord Hand, you cannot hide this. There will be questions about the success of the delegation." Ser Vaemond objected with scepticism in his voice and Lyonel narrowed his eyes at the prickly knight.

"No, we cannot, but we can charge you with treason should you disclose the contents of this letter or what you have learnt about matters pertaining to House Targaryen." Lyonel asserted and the talk of treason visibly made Ser Daemion blanch whilst Lord Celtigar did not seem surprised. Only Ser Vaemond looked indignant, as if his rights, whatever he believed it to be, were being trampled on.

"Lord Strong has the right of it." His Grace interjected as the King pivoted his eyes towards the three men, the stern look in his face melting as he continued to speak.

"Of course, for your loyalty to the Crown, you shall be richly rewarded for your services and any…grievances" His Grace said as he met the gaze of Lord Celtigar "that may have existed are dead and buried in my eyes."

"His Grace is merciful." Lord Celtigar said with a bowed head. "In mine own eyes and that of my House, House Celtigar holds nothing but the upmost loyalty to His Grace and House Targaryen. I swear it on the honour of my House that I shall disclose nought but as His Grace wishes me to disclose."

The corners of Lyonel's mouth ticked upwards in approval.

His Grace looked towards the Grandmaester with an expectant look who looked startled by the stare but the man was not slow of mind and quickly swore the same oath. Lyonel swiftly followed with the same oath.

The Velaryons were the last to swear the same oath, the elder more reluctant and displeased but nonetheless had done so, not that he had a choice if he wished to leave with his head intact.

"Your loyalty to your King will not go unrewarded. The treasury can bear generous reward for your service to the Crown." His Grace looked towards him.

Lyonel bowed his head lightly. "I shall ensure appropriate reward shall be dispensed, Your Grace." Lyonel said. It was not hard to see the expressions of satisfaction on the Velaryons and to a lesser extent, on Lord Celtigar.

"On the matter of the meeting, you may disclose that you treated with Prince Aegon but that you are sworn to secrecy, which you are, and anyone who wishes to pry beyond this point, inform me." His Grace said with steel in his voice.

The three men were dismissed by His Grace, leaving behind His Grace, Lyonel, the Grandmaester and of course the Lord Commander.

"Your Grace." Grandmaester Mellos' tone of voice was as severe as he looked and Lyonel was quick to intercede.

"Grandmaester." Lyonel was stern in his interjection. "If you have wish to implore His Grace to inform the Faith on the subject of the supposed prophet claims of His Grace's brother, I would ask to remind you that you have sworn an oath to keep silence on what has been learnt today."

"Supposed prophet claims?" Grandmaester Mellos was quick to grow a heavy frown, proving Lyonel right. Lyonel could not allow Mellos to cause greater harm than there was reason to. "Do you disbelieve the delegates' words as fabrications?"

"I do not believe their words fabrications yet I also know that they did not speak of Prince Aegon himself proclaiming that he is a prophet, only that some of his men and the ignorant masses, who I must remind you were nought but slaves bred into captivity a mere year ago, who are as fit to assess such grave matters as our own smallfolk are fit to rule as Lords, may believe Prince Aegon to be a prophet through innocent ignorance." Lyonel said reasonably in a calm tone of voice.

Lyonel continued "I am sure that there are many other such wild tales about Prince Aegon spoken through similar kinds of ignorance, aimed at overpraising his feats so as to create a greater legend, or do you believe everything the Sers Velaryons and Lord Celtigar have told us without a critical ear?"

This made the Grandmaester ponder. "I see your point." The Grandmaester conceded though Lyonel could tell that the man wasn't entirely pleased to do so.

"As I thought you would, Grandmaester. Otherwise I might have doubted your sensibilities." Lyonel said with a smidgen of a smile and Lyonel quickly moved on to ensure that the dangerous thought of Mellos was buried and buried dead.

"Your Grace." Lyonel directed with a bowed head. "What will you have us do?"

"Grandmaester Mellos. Set aside the letter and leave us. I shall call on you in time." His Grace commanded and the Grandmaester heeded the King and swiftly departed followed by the Kingsguard who the King requested to stand outside of the chambers, leaving behind only Lyonel and His Grace.

"I must apologise, Your Grace." Lyonel said with a bowed head as soon as they were alone in the Small Council room. "I have miscalculated gravely and have put you into a position that endangers you terribly." There was real shame in his voice.

After all, he'd been the one who'd initially suggested the King be 'forceful' in his handling of his younger brother. When the first envoys were said to be have been killed, His Grace had only fastened himself on this course of action, a course that now widened the perilous fractures between the royal House and its errant branch.

"I offer you my resignation of my position as your Hand, Your Grace. I have failed in my duty." Lyonel said with a bowed head.

"I cannot accept your resignation." His Grace said with a firmness that surprised Lyonel. The surprise must have been on his face as His Grace smiled at him.

"You have been sage and calming in your advice, Lord Hand. You have offered your advice as best as you have been able, far better than most others in the Realm are capable of. You have been without self-interest and wholly loyal without fault" His Grace then stood up and began to pace with anger marring his face.

"Your advice was sound. No, my Lord Hand, I should have expected this." The words said with an odd steely sharpness, said too fast yet lost none of its severity.

Lyonel watched on with some concern at the pacing of the King, worry for his health. He knew the King was suffering from a great deal of pain due to his ailment that was becoming less effectively treated by the maesters. The King being so animated was not good for his health.

His Grace continued, his voice quieting with embers of anger lacing his voice. "He dared. He truly dares to spit in my face with this…this…" The King went silent as he continued to pace, leaving Lyonel no choice but to wait for the King.

Many moments later, His Grace paused in his pacing as he turned to look towards Lyonel. "The Gods have cursed me." His Grace said suddenly with barely concealed anger leaking through his voice and, Lyonel thought, a degree of despair.

"Two brothers, the only brothers I have, and neither of them are filial." His Grace said and began pacing again, his expression a storm of anger and disappointment.

"One brother likes to pretend he is a dragon in human flesh and snaps and rages at anything that he dislikes! Who only knows brutality and calls it justice! Who would choose violence and upheaval every single time in place of peace and unity! Not even for my sake!" His Grace said with a sweep of his hand and the King grimaced as he slowed down and stopped Lyonel from rising as the King clutched his hand, the hand that had the small finger amputated at the knuckle, and Lyonel remained in his seat as he listened to the King continue.

"And then there is my youngest brother." His Grace clenched his teeth in anger and betrayal. "A man who never lets slights upon his person be forgotten, and like an unruly child, wills to cast the entire world into chaos and disorder to sate his want of vengeance. A child unable to forgive and forget and be satisfied with what he has, with what he has found in Elamaerys!" His Grace shook his head in disappointment, disappointment that turned into consternation.

"And despite his distance, despite being away near enough half a world, he has caused me more disquiet and anger than Daemon ever has so close to my person!"

His Grace looked towards Lyonel with hard bitterness creeping into his expression. "The Gods have cursed me indeed. Two brothers and both of them are accursedly blessed by the Gods in their own ways."

His Grace moved towards his seat and with a sigh, collapsed into it, looking tired.

The King waved his good hand in a tired but deliberate gesture. "One with the skill of arms and all the passion that is in our line and another with the best of minds our line has to offer. And all the Gods saw fit to reward me with is patience, a love for duty and family neither of my brothers share and a crown that withers my flesh every day more and more."

"Your Grace…"

His Grace interrupted him and waved him off. "Forgive me, my Lord Hand. The topic of my brothers sets alight the dragonblood that is in my veins." His Grace said tiredly.

"There is nothing to forgive, Your Grace."

His Grace offered him a slight smile of acknowledgement before he soon lost it and seemed to drift away into his thoughts, leaving them in a moment of silence.

Lyonel knew the brothers' relationships were a…difficult one.

To be truthful, it was hard to compare to any other.

None of the other Houses had brothers with as much personal might as the King's brothers had. Daemon with Caraxes. Aegon with Mīsaragorn.

Both of them were removed from the line of succession yet what did that matter when it came to dragons? Yet neither brother ever excised that difference in might.

His Grace may say that his brothers are not filial but they were far from the worst of brothers to have. Prince Daemon may be a ill-tempered man prone to violence and impulse but it was clear he held loyalty to Viserys, only one of two persons Lyonel thought the man had any sense of loyalty to.

And Prince Aegon…

"Your advice was sound." His Grace said, breaking the moment of silence and Lyonel's train of thought. "It is merely my execution that has proven to be of fault." His Grace said with a look of consternation as he closed his eyes.

"I should have known better but I was too rash, too angry, when I wrote the letter to my brother." His Grace met his eyes.

"You know how angry I had been when I heard of my envoys being killed. I fear I let too much of my anger wet itself onto the summons and demands. I should have known Aegon would take as kindly to the letter as Daemon would have."

"Forgive me, Your Grace…I cannot agree." Lyonel said meaningfully to the King.

"Your brother's response is unacceptable even if anger coloured your letter. He refuses your authority over his branch of the family. He is even extricating Elamaerys from any claim Your Grace has."

"A declaration no doubt made in response to my disinheriting of Aegon and his line." His Grace said with a complicated look.

Lyonel thought it more than that. The response was not of pettiness but a calculated rejection of any authority His Grace had, not only on Prince Aegon and his line but also on Elamaerys, worrying Lyonel greatly with how final the tone was.

It was terrible folly for the royal line to lose control over any of its dragons.

Three dragons took Westeros and Prince Aegon was showing that conquering vast swathes of land was possible with only a single dragon and a small army when accompanied with strategic ingenuity.

And Prince Aegon's line were all dragon riders, with perhaps as much as half of their dragons female. Already they outnumber the royal line. In twenty years?

Yes, it was folly to lose any kind of control over Prince Aegon's line.

It had been why Lyonel had pushed the King not to waver in his exertion of his royal right and why Lyonel kept his silence about His Grace's considerations to tie Elamaerys closely to Westeros through second sons and third sons raised to lords on these new lands even if he'd known that it was risky.

A risk that now seemed folly for how it turned to wound him and His Grace greatly. Lyonel underestimated Prince Aegon's desire to keep Elamaerys in his line and his line only.

Once a passing consideration, the idea taken a life of its own once rumours had spread about it and hardly ever did they not receive some second son or third son seeking succour in court in the hopes that they would be amongst the first in line.

It had also been a significant reason for Prince Aegon's popularity amongst the nobility and a significant reason for His Grace's own popularity too.

Lyonel thought this pressure had been the main reason why there were inferences in the summons letter that could have suggested the King was invoking primacy over Elamaerys instead invoking primacy over Prince Aegon.

Lyonel was certain His Grace did not intend it like so. He knew that the Princess was well in favour in having greater royal control over Elamaerys but the King had only wished it to be a means of triumph and a reconciliation in House Targaryen.

"Nevertheless" Lyonel began gravely. "Whatever the reason may be, you are still Prince Aegon's King and you hold Headship over House Targaryen until you have decided otherwise, Your Grace."

It was imperative that His Grace did not let this fester. If the King had to switch from commanding to compelling, so be it. Prince Aegon and his line could not be allowed to remain unattached to the royal line.

"I know, Lyonel!" His Grace said sharply, his expression twisting uglily but it soon faded away as he grimaced darkly. "Do you think I have forgotten? Do you not think that I was ready to call upon Daemon and my cousin to forcibly halt Aegon in his wars and bring him back in chains, if must be?"

Lyonel felt himself still with a great deal of trepidation. Such an act…

He knew that it was an appropriate response for a brother that could be said to be in rebellion against the Crown.

But he also knew that it could only make things worse. Significantly worse.

Lyonel felt his shame deepen for not seeing the possibilities…for not seeing how things could have escalated with the course of action he advocated for.

Should any of the Targaryens die in an act of kinslaying, it would cause an enmity that may last generations.

Princess Rhaenys dying would lose the Iron Throne the support of House Velaryon, who, with Vhagar and Seasmoke, were a formidable opponent almost equal to House Targaryen when it came to dragon might.

Prince Aegon dying would forever earn the enmity of Aegon's sons who were an ocean away in a land unknown to all, once they learnt of the tragedy.

Prince Daemon dying was equally a dangerous prospect for it would weaken His Grace's position – and that of Princess Rhaenyra – and it would cause a similar enmity between the greater and lesser branches of House Targaryen.

"…was?" Lyonel only commented as he stared at the King with a concerned look, a look that His Grace had caught.

"Was." His Grace confirmed. "I am not so foolish not to see that any further kind of escalation would only spring forth unconscionable consequences." His Grace admitted with a pained look and His Grace closed his eyes.

"And I do not want to…"

Again, there was a moment of silence.

"Yet this" His Grace waved towards the letter with a hardening look "cannot be left unanswered."

His Grace looked towards him.

"So tell me Lyonel. Grant me your sage advice. What must be done?"

"I am uncertain, Your Grace." Lyonel admitted truthfully. "We are now in dangerous territory. Unknown territory." Lyonel said as he met His Grace's eyes.

'I believe you may have to embody the greatest quality of your grandsire to settle this matter.' Lyonel thought grimly.

"Your brother has skirted well beyond the lines permitted to him before but now, with this response, you would be well within your rights to declare him a traitor to the Crown." Lyonel said with a grim look.

Lyonel did not believe this was the right course but he kept his council, for now.

His Grace looked pained for a moment before he lost it and looked away from Lyonel. "If I were to declare him a traitor?"

Lyonel grimaced lightly before he took in a silent breath and continued, calmly.

"The realm would wish to learn why he was declared a traitor. His actions against the slavers has made him a popular figure, as His Grace knows, amongst the smallfolk, the Faith and a good portion of the rest of the realm." Lyonel paused as lined up the rest of his thoughts before he spoke again.

"Your silence on his actions in Essos has raised questions, Your Grace, and some may already consider that you disapprove of his actions in Essos." Lyonel reminded His Grace.

His Grace's expression darkened slightly but the King said nothing. Lyonel knew that though His Grace had softened on his staunch position that Prince Aegon's actions were condemnable for throwing Essos into chaos, he'd still not been approving of his brother waging war without any permission given by His Grace.

The thought had been to have Aegon return and make a public show of thanking His Grace for his permission given to remove the stain of slavery in the Gulf of Grief, solidifying that though His Grace may have been silent, the support had always been there in the shadows.

"Therefore I believe it wise to use another means as cause for declaring your brother a traitor to the Crown, Your Grace." Lyonel said before continuing.

"I would have suggested using the blasphemy however it is best that it is ignored." Lyonel said with warning in his voice.

"I agree." His Grace said grimly, a vestige of anger in his eyes. "I do not know my brother's involvement in this debacle but I will not entertain it nor will I allow others to use it for dangerous foolishness." Lyonel respectfully inclined his head to the King in response before he responded.

"You could use Prince Aegon's arrival in the Disputed Lands as your basis of your disavowing of your brother as there is only one true reason why he's there and likely is well on his way towards Myr, a Free City we have reached accords with."

"The Treaty of Tyrosh?" His Grace looked towards Lyonel, his interest clearly peaking. Lyonel nodded firmly.

After Prince Daemon had sunken the majority of the Myrish ships, the Myrrish had sent a delegation to Tyrosh requesting a peace deal to be reached.

And a peace deal they did reach with Myr officially relinquishing any claims on Tyrosh and agreeing to not interfere in Tyroshi affairs. In addition, Myr had agreed to accept the Stepstones as a territory under Westerosi influence.

They could have forced Myr to accept the Stepstones as part of Westeros but His Grace had not wished to instigate further tension with Dorne or with Braavos who already must be looking at the ordeal with great interest.

For now, their allies in Tyrosh would be tasked to help maintain the region corsair free. The Velaryons and the royal fleet would assist in this matter.

In any case, one section that was included in the treaty was the prohibition of any action from House Targaryen against Myr without just cause, with just cause being anything that breaches the terms agreed upon in the Treaty of Tyrosh.

Myr had easily agreed to many of those terms, and Lyonel and the Small Council understood the reason why they'd been so eager to agree to the harsh restrictions on Myr when it came to trading in the Narrow Sea, including even agreeing to deliver slavers who harass the east coast of Westeros to Kings Landing to be sentenced to death or the Wall. The reason was simple. Prince Aegon.

Of course, the Myrish thought the Treaty would bound the Iron Throne to act against Prince Aegon with arms and dragons – they soon expected an Myrish delegation demanding action – but they had left themselves open a means to simply disavow Prince Aegon without harm to the Iron Throne's reputation or having to run the risk of causing the Targaryens to kinslay.

The Myrish would be wroth but they cared not. It was legal and it was just.

And who knows…perhaps Prince Aegon would succeed in making Myr cease to exist as an entity, ensuring that no consequences would be suffered by the realm.

"He wouldn't know, would he?"

Lyonel shook his head. "It doesn't matter if he does or doesn't know, Your Grace. What matters is that you would have a reasonable means out of this problem without having to resort to drastic means." Lyonel said with a note of imploring in his voice before Lyonel added with graveness spelled out on his face.

"I fear the spread of this blatant insult, Your Grace. And I fear the stain this insult would leave on your reputation." Lyonel heard the sharp whistle of taking of breath from the King.

"You believe the Celtigars or the Velaryons will betray me, break their oaths to their King?" His Grace asked gravely.

"The Celtigars? No. I believe they are most satisfied with their lot. The Velaryons are a different matter. Lord Corlys will surely press them to spill what they know and they could be convinced. The Velaryons would have much to gain from the spreading of this treason and rumours of your inaction, Your Grace. The matter could leave a stain on Your Grace." 'It would make you look weak and ineffective.'

Lyonel felt a well of shame at the words he spoke and thought, exacerbated by His Grace rearing back his head as if he was struck. Lyonel's head bowed in shame.

He knew that the King was far from weak and ineffective.

A decade as King, His Grace had continued the great work of King Jahaerys in keeping the peace of the realm. The coin in the treasury was overflowing, disputes amongst the noble Houses was at an all time low, the Triarchy was dead with one of its cities allied to the Iron Throne and realm was flourishing.

The King was as popular as King Jaehaerys had been.

Even Prince Daemon was kept under control through Prince Baelon. The only stain on his rulership was the matter of Prince Aegon and his disobedience.

His Grace recovered and the look of raw anger returned as His Grace took great pains to calm himself. "What could I do if I were to declare him a traitor using the Treaty, Lord Hand?" Lyonel grimaced lightly at the cold address from His Grace.

Lyonel looked up to meet His Grace's gaze.

"There are only two options available to you that I see though neither would have positive consequences." Lyonel answered truthfully. His Grace clenched his teeth lightly before he simply waved impatiently for Lyonel to continue.

"One option following the declaration is to send Prince Daemon, Princess Rhaenys and Ser Laenor to bring Prince Aegon to Kings Landing for judgment." Lyonel said. "The three, on their dragons, would have the highest chance of success in forcing Prince Aegon to be taken, forcibly or voluntarily, back to Kings Landing."

From the way His Grace's expression changed, it was clear His Grace was unwilling to take this option regardless of how many dragons were sent in support.

"The risk is too high." 'The risk of fighting, the King means. I agree'

"Yes. Should any of the four die, I fear the consequences in your family would be…severe." Lyonel admitted. "If one of the Velaryons die, likely as Prince Aegon is to resist, the Velaryons' bitterness would grow into grave resentment." Already, Lyonel thought, there was trouble on the horizon with Queen Alicent and her House unhappy with the King's sons being overlooked in favour of a daughter not of their blood.

Yes, to have any of the Velaryons die in service for House Targaryen…it would be a disaster. Lord Corlys' resentment would become hatred and the man would become a dangerous foe and threat to the King's reign.

"Similarly, Prince Daemon or Prince Aegon being harmed or incurring a worse fate, would inspire a greater fracture in your House that may never be repaired, Your Grace."

Prince Daemon dying would weaken His Grace greatly. House Velaryon would be in a position of power that distorted the relationship between vassal and liege lord.

That is not to mention what Prince Daemon's death would do to Princess Rhaenyra's prospects of rising to the throne. With Prince Daemon's death, not only would she lose a supporter, it may well be one of the King's sons could claim Caraxes, adding to Dreamfyre and the drakeling the Greens possess, inviting greater possibility of a succession war if the balance of power was to shift.

And if Prince Aegon died, a whole family of dragonriders would turn against the Iron Throne. Any chance of bringing back this branch of House Targaryen under the main line would be gone.

"The other option." His Grace merely said, perturbed at the path in front of him.

"You could, following the declaration of his treason, sentence him exile from the Realm for life. This option is perhaps the least harmful." Lyonel told His Grace.

Lyonel continued. "It would also give us the protection of any perceived breach of terms in the Treaty of Tyrosh should Myr come and demand action, safeguarding the Iron Throne's reputation." Lyonel sighed silently before he continued on.

"But it is also the option that least meaningful. It is clear that your brother intends to make Elamaerys the home of his branch of House Targaryen. Once his grievances with Myr is done, I have little doubt that he intends to return to Elamaerys, breaking any influence or control Your Grace has over your brother." Lyonel eyed the King with a grim look.

"These are the only two worthwhile options I see, Your Grace."

The King remained silent for several long moments, deep in thought, his expression marred with consternation and embers of concern.

"If I didn't declare him a traitor?" His Grace asked, breaking the silence.

"These options…" His Grace sunk deeper in his chair, his eyes closing.

"Either I run the risk of causing a battle amongst dragons not seen since the times when Maegor slew Aegon the Uncrowned, potentially causing the death of my youngest brother and perhaps one more of my kin, or I exile Aegon formally from the Realm, likely giving Aegon what he wants. And with either option, I hammer in the final nail of the coffin. The destruction of the unity of my House." His Grace said with a tired, weary tone of voice before he levelled a heavy gaze onto Lyonel.

"What other options do you see, my Lord Hand, that will see Aegon brought to me, willingly, whilst avoiding my reputation from being tarnished like you so fear?"

Lyonel looked surprised at His Grace.

His Grace saw his reaction and sighed heavily as he looked away from Lyonel.

"'Unjustness and betrayal of any and all bonds of blood and kinship…'" His Grace murmured. "My anger, Lyonel, abates when I think of those words and instead, I am left to wonder if I am the cause of this mess." His Grace sighed heavily.

"I am left to wonder if this treason would have happened had I not let my anger rule me as it so oft does Daemon." His Grace's expression cycled through a number of emotions. Concern. Guilt. And Anger. Plenty of anger.

"I could have done better. We were once close as boys. I could have written to him as a brother, angry, yes, but as a brother, instead of a King. Would he have rejected me as he has done now?" His Grace asked though Lyonel was silent, understanding that the King was asking himself instead of anyone in particular.

"Perhaps he would have, with how he never forgets or forgives slights." His Grace said to himself before His Grace laughed to himself, silently, a melancholic look colouring his face. It seemed as if the King had aged ten years in but a moment's pass.

"It always returns to those harrowing days. The days I lost my Aemma and my Aemon, the days where I near lost everything." His Grace closed his eyes.

"Those days still haunt me even now. Was I wrong, my Lord Hand, was I wrong to disinherit Aegon and my nephews in my grief, in my desire to protect the last of what I had, to protect Rhaenyra's right as my heir? Was I unjust as Aegon claims?"

Lyonel remained quiet for a few moments. "It was your right as Head of House Targaryen and as King, Your Grace. What you command is law."

His Grace scoffed quietly and pinned a look at Lyonel. "Speak freely and truly, Lyonel. You offer me counsel but now offer me your thoughts."

Lyonel took a moment to consider before he answered. "The great offence Prince Daemon done to you, and his unsuitability and volatility, all of it created an urgent need of His Grace to declare another heir. Prince Aegon and his line were oceans away and the Iron Throne needed urgent action. Your daughter had to be heir. You made the difficult but right decision in having your daughter as heir, Your Grace."

"But I could have done that without resolving to disinherit my younger brother." His Grace said with a grim smile as Lyonel offered a slight grimace. Yes, His Grace could have resolved the matter of inheritance without needing to disinherit Prince Aegon and his line from the line of succession.

Princess Rhaenys, for example, retained her position in the succession even if her claim was put behind that of His Grace after King Jaehaerys proclaimed His Grace as his successor following the advice of the Lords of Westeros.

A similar decree could have been made and the grievances would have been null.

"Your Grace, you must not dwell on what cannot be changed." Lyonel advised. His Grace could not retract the disinheritance of Prince Aegon and his line, not without also having to do so with Prince Daemon.

It would muddy up the succession even more than it already was, with the young Princes having put behind the line of succession of their elder sister despite the laws and customs of the lands.

His Grace sighed heavily. "What am I to do now, Lord Hand? My brother's rejection of my authority as Head of House Targaryen and as his King" His Grace's expression twisted strangely, uglily "puts me into a difficult position."

His Grace looked away from Lyonel for a brief moment before he looked towards Lyonel, a strange look marring his face. "And yet I cannot declare my brother a traitor even if I had a true wish to do so." His Grace sighed heavily. "Which I do not. I must do all that I can to keep Aegon and my nephews tied to my line." The King looked beyond him with a disturbed look that startled Lyonel. "Too much depends on us."

Lyonel gazed upon the King with a hint of confusion about the King's last words. "Your Grace, do you speak of the threat Mīsaragorn and the other dragons pose?"

The King's haunted look disappeared and for a moment, that same strange look was there before it was gone all too soon. "Aye, just so." The King said with a heavy nod, silently waving Lyonel to continue.

Lyonel hesitated for a brief moment before he did as he was bid. "Had Prince Aegon been anything other than a dragonrider, including the rest of his family, the matter would have been closed. You would have been able to declare him a traitor to the Realm, disown him for his treason and be done with it."

The fact that Prince Aegon was a dragonrider greatly complicated matters and so too did the sheer distance and unknown location of Elamaerys that prohibited any excursion to bring the potentially rebellious branch back into line.

"But unfortunately, that is not the case. It means a resolution must be found with Prince Aegon lest it sets, if I may continue to be frank Your Grace, an incredibly dangerous precedence when it comes to your family." Lyonel told the King.

"House Velaryon during the Great Council was a warning that was overlooked, Your Grace, on how perilous too many dragons in one too many hands can be." Lyonel said grimly and he added "Only this time, Prince Aegon has shown the other side of the coin, where a rogue dragonrider can and perhaps will act independently from the Iron Throne if he is an ocean away, without care to the Iron Throne or of the consequences to the Realm."

Lyonel sighed heavily. "It is imperative that Prince Aegon is brought back into the fold." Lyonel said with heavy meaning in his words as he met the King's gaze.

His Graced stared at Lyonel for some time, and Lyonel felt his breathing slow under the stare of his King. Finally, His Grace broke his silence to his assessment.

"You're asking me to bend." His Grace said. "You're asking me to forgive his transgressions in Essos that has thrown large swathes of the continent in disarray."

The King's expression grew hard, his voice carrying an edge as he spoke further.

"You're asking me to forgive his denial of my authority over his branch of House Targaryen. You're asking me to forgive his clear challenge to me. His King."

Lyonel could tell that though the anger of the King was true, he also knew the King had already resigned himself that something like this would be needed if he wished for the reconciliation to be possible. For himself. For House Targaryen.

His Grace continued, a steely demand colouring his tone. "Why would I go so far when he is almost certainly going to throw it back in my face, again?"

"Because, Your Grace, his branch of House Targaryen outnumber the royal line, the second branch of House Targaryen and the Velaryons when it comes to dragonriders." Lyonel said with grimness in his voice.

"And at least one of their dragons is female. I must be frank, Your Grace. If this is not solved, there will now be two separate branches of House Targaryen that hold control over all the dragons in the Known World."

At this, His Grace's anger broke and he closed his eyes as he breathed through his nose.

"Demands have failed." Lyonel said gently. "Overtures are now necessary."

"Overtures that will bring Prince Aegon back into the fold." Lyonel told the King.

The King seemed to struggle with his thoughts for a long few moments before he reopened his eyes and set them on Lyonel before they flickered towards the letter.

"And what makes you think my brother wants to be brought back into fold?" His Grace leaned forward and seized the letter, letting his eyes scan over the parchment with a darkening look.

His Grace looked up and met Lyonel's eyes with a hard look in his eyes. "My brother rejects me and my position in our family." There was a pause in His Grace's speaking. "He has all but disowned me as his brother."

'Therefore, what point is there in overturing?' the King all but asked.

"I would not go so far, Your Grace. Yes, Prince Aegon has given appearance that he still holds anger for you, as shown in the letter and as told by Ser Vaemond of how Prince Aegon believed His Grace had broken 'my claims and my links to my heritage in Westeros'" Lyonel said to the King.

His Grace's expression twisted into a grimace as he'd bid Lyonel to continue on.

"But I do not believe it. Not entirely." Lyonel said calmly but confidently. "He is using the 'betrayal' as the root of his justification to deny your authority and your claim on Elamaerys as Head of House Targaryen. This is about Elamaerys, Your Grace." Lyonel said with a pause in his voice.

"You truly believe that?" His Grace asked heaviness in his voice.

"I do, Your Grace. Prince Aegon has already shown with Slaver's Bay he sees little fault in using deception for his benefit. This is merely, I believe, another deception aimed to solidify Elamaerys as its own entity separate from the Iron Throne." Lyonel said truthfully and he waited a moment to let it sink in for the King.

"Do you believe Aegon intends to become King of Elamaerys?" His Grace asked with searching eyes. Lyonel considered the question, and he went through all of the topics and observations the delegation had shared.

"No." Lyonel said finally. "None of Aegon's men – or the people of Astapor – addressed with any other title than Prince Aegon. Had he wish to become King, he would have already done so when he arrived in Elamaerys. There would be no reason not to. So no, I do not believe he wishes to be King." Lyonel answered.

"What does he want then?" His Grace asked Lyonel with a grave expression as he set aside the letter. "He rejects me, the Crown, but what does he want if he does not wish to rule as King? To rule as an independent Princely House? Like the Martells?"

"I must admit I do not know his end goal for Elamaerys is." Lyonel admitted with a bowed head. "We will only learn his ambitions when he comes. But, I do believe I know what he wants. He wants Elamaerys and only Elamaerys." Lyonel said after a moment's pause. "For himself and for his line." Lyonel met the King's gaze.

"That is why an overture that confirms his line's claim on Elamaerys – and only his line – in the eyes of the Iron Throne, and perhaps with acknowledged approval of his endeavours against the sin of slavery, that could be enough to entice Prince Aegon back into the fold and bring him to you." Lyonel explained.

"In effect, I would wholly absolve him of facing judgment of waging war without my permission, and absolve him of the insults made against the Iron Throne, against me, his liege lord and elder brother." The King said with his eyes closing.

"Yes." Lyonel said with a bowed head. "This would be the best way to entice Prince Aegon back to Kings Landing where you may be able to reconcile the bonds between you and your brother."

"And what of his assertion that I hold no authority over Aegon or his line?" There was a steely angry undercurrent to the King's voice as he opened his eyes.

Lyonel was grim as he met the King's eyes.

"I can only advocate that you seek to change his mind, Your Grace. Instead of forcing it. Unless His Grace wishes to go down a path that would lead to Prince Aegon's line seeing your royal line as an enemy." Lyonel said gravely.

His Grace stared at Lyonel with a long look before he turned away from Lyonel.

Long moments passed before the King spoke.

"He still claims the name Targaryen." His Grace said as he turned to look towards Lyonel. "He has not shed his name, despite his disavowing me becoming easier if he were to take a new name."

"Aye, your Grace." Lyonel said with a heavy nod. Some of which the delegates had spoken of, such as the anger shown about the sundering of Prince Aegon's heritage by the King, may be true. It would mean that the Prince still greatly treasured his House…and thus could be made to act in defence of it. "It is a path Your Grace can take to sway him for the good of your House."

"Very well." His Grace said with a tone of resigned acceptance in his voice though Lyonel had no time to think on it as the King spoke further. "And how would you see all of this happen? Ask him to forgive me" His Grace gestured towards the letter "before I present him this overture?"

Lyonel shook his head firmly.

"No, I could never nor would I ever counsel you to do such a thing." Lyonel was vehement in his answer. It was hard enough to counsel the King to take this path.

"I would, however, counsel you to let me take responsibility for writing the letter in your name." Lyonel said with a bowed head. "Claim that you were unaware of the overzealous nature of my duty to Your Grace and I would write and sign my own confession to the deed." Lyonel could tell that His Grace was surprised by the offer but Lyonel pressed on, wishing to explain why it could solve the issue.

"It would not work. The letter was written with mine own hand." His Grace said with a heavy frown.

"Would your brother know for certain it came from your hand? Certain enough to question your claim that you did not write it?" Lyonel questioned. The letter had been in Common and His Grace's writing was not so distinct to set his writing apart from all.

"Perhaps he would not however the seal would ensure that he knew I read the letter before it was sent. The letter bears my seal." His Grace said in response with a heavy look.

"You can claim that you had not read the letter, trusting my obeisance to yourself, Your Grace." Lyonel was firm in answer.

He could tell that the King wanted to take this option, to sweep away the difficult circumstance and start anew, instead of being forced to do anything more he could bear to think to do.

"I cannot ask this of you, Lord Hand." His Grace said with denial in his voice.

"Your Grace has not asked of this of me. I am offering this to His Grace and should His Grace refuse my offering, I believe I can do no less but resign of my post and allow another to provide His Grace with sounder counsel." Lyonel said to the King.

The King sighed heavily and Lyonel was relieved to hear the acquiescence.

"Very well." His Grace said "But how can you be assured that Aegon will believe the tale?"

"He will not." Lyonel told His Grace. "He will almost certainly catch out the lie."

Lyonel smiled grimly. "But he will also see it as a gesture. A gesture that would soften him with the overture we would send with it." For a long few moments, neither man said anything as Lyonel conveyed his resolve in his expression.

"And if he refuses this…gesture? And the overture? What then?"

Lyonel considered the possibility but ultimately he did not think the man could be so spiteful to ignore what was easily the best route out. For the Iron Throne. For House Targaryen. For either of the two brothers.

"You will have to act to secure the best interest of the realm, Your Grace, should your brother refuse this overture." Lyonel admitted, leaving unsaid of what actions that could mean. It could only be the King's decision.

"However" Lyonel continued. "Your brother does not seem like a fool."

Prince Aegon finds himself in a position that'd be enviable. An undeserving position. And if he is as smart as some claim he is, he will see it too. If only Prince Aegon had been the only dragonrider in his line…none of this would be needed.

His Grace looked troubled for a moment before he finally nodded.

"It will be enough. Aegon must see that." His Grace said with a heavy sigh.

Lyonel felt a heaviness settle on his chest. He was ashamed he had to counsel the King to take such a route for the good of the realm.

"I should have counselled you better, Your Grace." Lyonel said truthfully. "I should have sought to understand your brother better before I gave counsel, Your Grace."

His Grace chuckled. "No…" His Grace sighed. "You couldn't have known."

"I should have, however. Aegon's anger is cold. It is an anger that he keeps in until he has a need to release it and when he does…it is targeted. Harsh." His Grace gestured towards the letter. "Daemon's is far more volatile and explosive, prone to harm everyone including himself." His Grace said with a shake of the head and there was a moment of silence before His Grace spoke again.

"Who do we send? My cousin?" His Grace asked as he met Lyonel's eyes.

Lyonel nodded. "Yes, Your Grace. I believe Princess Rhaenys is the best option. A softer touch. If I recall, Princess Rhaenys and Prince Aegon were closer than Prince Daemon was with your youngest brother." Lyonel said diplomatically.

His Grace sighed before he nodded. "Yes, Rhaenys would be best, I agree. Though she may be Corlys' wife, she is of my House. She will be made to understand the importance of the mission and the importance of succeeding." The look in His Grace's eyes told Lyonel much.

There would be a debt owed to Princess Rhaenys and perhaps the Velaryons too, something that Lyonel was not pleased with but had to accept.

The matter was a delicate one and Prince Daemon could not be trusted to carry out the King's instructions to the letter nor could he be trusted to keep his nature subdued.

With Princess Rhaenys, they would be able to convey the sincerity of the reconciliation offered by the Iron Throne and be able to turn this situation around.

"Your Grace…once Prince Aegon is here" Lyonel was made to stop as the King raised his hand, a grim acceptance showing itself on the King's face.

"I am aware of the role that I must play, Lyonel." His Grace said as he lowered his hand. "What was it you said? Overtures are necessary. Not one but several." His Grace said with a displeased look. "I am aware what I must do to return my brother fully into the fold. Even if I must accept more than a King should."

Lyonel bowed his head in self-shame but also out of admiration. "King Jaehaerys must smile down upon you, Your Grace."

His Grace sighed heavily. "I would hope that he did. After all, he taught me the importance of keeping the unity of the House of the Dragon." Lyonel looked up and saw that the King was looking away from Lyonel.

"Too much depends on it."

-Break-

Mid to Late 113 AC – Lys

Johanna Swann, First Magister of Lys POV

Johanna stood regally in patient wait, with Magisters Norys Belano and Loryssa Rogare on her right with Magisters Lorassio Dynaar and Donnos Adaridos on her left, as they watched the Summer Islander delegation climb up the marble steps to the Commune, the seat of the Council of Lys.

The Summer Islanders had arrived last eve, three score of swan-ships, with a delegation aimed to strike 'trade agreements'.

She'd been forewarned twice about the possibility.

Once when Prince Aegon had come to Lys and another time a few moons later when the Crow Warriors of Omboru had come to replenish their goods before setting sail for the Disputed Lands.

'Though it seemed like trade has already commenced' she mused to herself.

Her eyes flickered towards the main port of Lys, which she could see from her position, the Commune having been built atop the highest peak of the Isle of Lys, and she could just about see the familiar sails of the Summer Islanders swan-ships.

The Summer Islanders had brought to Lys a wide array of goods, from gems and jewellery to spices and herbs to pink ivory and purpleheart hardwoods to all sorts of rare wines.

She felt a morsel of amusement at the tactics.

Whilst traders did come to Lys with goods and wares from the Summer Isles, the quantities were small and never before had there been such a large supply of their goods in the same instance.

'This is what we have to offer you and you could have this regularly, if there is agreement.'

She was curious to learn more of the reasons why the Summer Islanders were so invested in establishing more…formal relations. Especially in such a manner.

From what she knew of the Summer Islanders, they were a fractious people. Independent peoples who were loosely associated with one another.

Much like the Free Cities. Yet here they were, a delegation she learnt represented Omboru, Jhalla, Koj and Walano.

Effectively, this may as well be considered akin to the Iron Throne sending a delegation to treat with her.

The importance did not evade her. Not at all.

Once the delegation, a group of six with three guards, passed the last few steps and stood in front of her and the other Magisters, one of the Summer Islanders stepped forward and gestured towards the other men in the delegation.

"Presenting Prince Bhadhos Qhaxos, eldest son and heir of Prince Balal, the Prince of Omboru!" The mentioned man was a handsome dark-brown skinned man, dressed in blue fine linen shirts and breeches with an leather overcoat, similar to what the others in the delegation wore, and the man walked forward towards her with a broad smile that showed off pearly white teeth.

Belano waved off the guards from moving, aware as they were of the Summer Islander traditions, and she stuck out her right hand which Prince Bhadhos took.

His middle finger snapped against the middle finger of hers. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Johanna of Lys." Prince Bhadhos said with a warm incline of the head.

"It is a pleasure to meet you too, Prince Bhadhos." Johanna said with a show of a smile as their hands parted. The Prince greeted the rest of the party with a hand on his chest before he stepped back in line with the rest of the delegation.

The rest of the Summer Islander delegation, Sabar Rhaal representing the Prince of Jhalla, Sabod Qaam of Koj, Zhalos Qhaadan of Walano, bowed their heads to her and the other magisters whilst she repeated the feat of greeting with Prince Dantos Zhaxo of Jhalla, a second son of the ruling Prince of Jhalla.

Her delegation then introduced themselves, starting with her, and soon enough it was time for the meeting to begin as they the Summer Islanders into the building.

Three Days Later…

Her conversation with Lady Rogare and Lorassio Dynaar was cut short when Illaphos Vynelar drew attention to himself, a drunken smile plastered on his face and Johanna sighed lightly as she watched on.

"Irro Vynelar would have wept at the sight." Lorassio Dynaar said calmly as they watched the young Head of House Vynelar stumble his way into the garden square.

"Would he? He never had much optimism for his youngest son." Lady Rogare said with mild amusement in her tone of voice.

During the rebellion, Irro Vynelar had found himself and his two eldest sons slain by a treacherous underling from a family that served the Vynelar family, paving the way for Illaphos to rise to the position of Head of House Vynelar with his nephews too young to be able to rise.

Such a shame…

The young man of three and twenty had little sense of responsibility and what middling intelligence or cunning he had lay underneath a thick layer of cowardice.

A perfect tool.

"Men and fair ladies of Lys!" Illaphos began with outstretched hands. "So much has changed since the rebellion!" Illaphos said loudly, his arms falling, the drunken smile on his face deepening. "Old families have fallen and new families have risen. Friends have turned enemy and enemies have turned friends. Lys once stood as a pillar of strength amongst three and now it stands strong enough a pillar alone!"

There were smattering of cheers and clapping. Some of it polite. Some of it genuine. Most of it calculating and contemptuous. The usual, Johanna thought.

Illaphos continued. "Yet there is one change that trumps all. Beautiful Lys shall no more shroud an ugliness behind a mask. Those were the words that impassioned slave" said Illaphos as he gestured with his glass of sweet amber wine to a former slave soldier that had risen to command the city-guard "to lowborn and to highborn" Illaphos said as he gestured towards other attendees of the Ball.

"So did Lys rise to force change! To demand liberty and better prospects! To make Lys as beautiful as its people are!" Illaphos seemed to be enthralled with his own voice.

Illaphos then looked around, a charming grin on his face. "And are we not beautiful now?" There were a few attendees who loudly cheered and aye-d, causing Illaphos to chuckle. "Yes, indeed we are and it seems our dear new friends in Slaver's Bay" there was some jeers causing Illaphos to raise his hands in surrender "Apologies, I meant Liberty Bay." Illaphos said with a chuckle and a low bow before he continued.

"As I was saying, our dear new friends in Liberty Bay are keen to see all of the beauty we posses and all the beauty we can make and now, with the agreements we've reached with the Summer Islanders, they too shall be swept aside by all of the beauty Lys can make!"

The agreements with the Summer Islanders was sweeping, if a lopsided. It was fair to say that the Summer Islanders held a far larger material wealth than Lys did, with their furs and pelts and their gemstones, but Lys was a master in the production of goods.

Their tapestries, their textiles, their perfumes and elixirs, their artists and more were well sought after, almost as well sought after as their pillow houses were.

And, with the fall of Tyrosh and the subsequent investment she and the rest of her compatriots were doing in Tyrosh to secure some of its industries for themselves, particularly the dyes Guild, would help keep the trading from being too lopsided.

She did not fail to notice that the Summer Islanders were not that interested in Lys' metals. Though Lys and its companion islands were not exactly blessed with great deals of metals like iron, tin or copper, there was a fair amount of iron on Lys and its companion islands.

Considering that the Summer Islander trade ships often bought those metals in bulk if they were able, the lack of the trade goods being part of the agreement, including the waiving of taxes on such goods, marked it very clear they secured an alternative source…a very obvious one.

Liberty Bay. It wasn't surprising, to be truthful. Their mountains and hills were chokeful of iron and copper and other such metals and those cities would use these resources more than most others. They had enough people to mine for them too.

She narrowed her eyes lightly as she was lost to her thoughts. She would have to accelerate the Bank's securing of some of those mines. She had already lost a step with the Braavosi trade fleet that sailed towards Liberty Bay two moons ago.

Belano's standing up drew her out of her thoughts and she wasn't the only want to turn her attentions to the Magister. "To the Prosperity of Lys! Belano said loudly with his glass of pearwine raised high in the air.

"To the Prosperity of Lys!" came almost immediately from amongst the attendees and Johanna had joined in albeit quietly, with much amusement.

She turned her attentions towards Illaphos who had lost the smile on his face as he stared towards Belano. Though she could not tell this far away, she imagined he was likely seething at the interruption and the way Belano has cut short anything else Illaphos had wished to say.

"That was unnecessary." Lady Rogare commented.

Johanna turned to look towards Belano who took his seat but not before raised his glass towards Illaphos.

"On the contrary." Belano said with a faint smirk on his face. "I think it was quite necessary or would you have wanted him to continue to twist our success to drum up interest for his inevitable campaign for Magister?"

"I would have thought you less sensitive to a man like Illaphos." Lady Rogare said with a raised eyebrow that accompanied a teasing smile.

"Now that was unnecessary." Belano said with some amount of distaste and it caused to Johanna to withhold an amused smile. Belano was a tall and broad man, a former slave soldier who later became an enforcer for the Paenarris family.

The rare thing about him was that his strength was only secondary to his guile and cleverness, something she did not learn for moons after she'd taken him from the Paenarris family.

To suggest a man like that was threatened by a man like Illaphos was amusing.

"Quite necessary, I'm afraid." Lady Rogare said with a uncaring smile on her face. "As you said, this agreement is a victory for us on the behalf of the people of Lys and the people of Lys know that, will always know that. A loud worm won't change that." Lady Rogare then turned towards Johanna, a glint in her eyes.

"And if the worm proves too loud, well. They say that worms are a delicacy amongst birds and we have a black Swan amidst us."

"If the worm plays by the rules, even it deserves a chance a place in the sun." Johanna easily responded as she leaned back in her chair, an eyebrow raised. "And if the People of Lys decide that they'd rather trust a worm than whatever animal you like to think yourselves to be, with all of the advantages we hold, well…" Johanna trailed off before she drank of her glass again.

Any of her close allies losing an election would be embarrassing. With how much they controlled and did for the People of Lys, they ought to never lose an election.

Only incompetence would oust any of them and Johanna was never one to allow for it to flourish.

Belano grunted "Quite." Belano grew a faint grin as he eyed Johanna "Besides, our fearless black Swan has more of a taste for tigers and elephants, dear Loryssa."

Johanna rolled her eyes lightly even as a mild smile danced on her lips. She wasn't sure where it began or who was responsible but during the rebellion, people took to call her the Black Swan of Lys, a symbol, if you will.

Beautiful, graceful and dangerous.

She wasn't exactly too enthused to be labelled like an animal – it reminded her too much of Westeros and the Great Houses – but she put up with it.

"Hmm." Lady Rogare made out, drawing Johanna's attention and she met the elder woman's eyes. "Still no news if the hunt is on?"

"No news." Johanna said seriously. "Some stirrings but nothing that affects us." She said with an equally serious tone of voice. She'd received the news only yesterday about some amount of unrest in Volantis. Unrest that her informants were telling her stemmed from the Red Faith instead of the slaves.

She wasn't sure what it meant.

The R'hllorists were more than fine with slavery, in fact, their order depended on slaves. Their Priests were raised in slavery and their Priestesses were bedwarmers before they became Priestesses.

Any slaves that lived in Volantis were almost certainly followers of the Red Faith, the slavers almost certainly wanting their slaves to follow that Faith above all other. And it had been like that for thousands of years. It was why Volantis was almost impossible to destroy from within.

So why they would cause trouble for the Old Blood, she did not know.

She considered perhaps Aegon had something to do with it…with that Priestess. A Red Priestess named Lessela had accompanied the Prince's army but Ritte found out that she'd left within a day to places unknown.

But it seemed too farfetched that Aegon could have such sway over the R'hllorists. Aegon was a follower of the Seven, that much was apparent with the Seven-Star amulet that he wore around his neck.

Why would they fall in line with what they would consider a follower of demons?

No, there was something else at play and she would have to find out. Volantis, with Myr soon to be weakened – and hopefully destroyed though she had little hope he would do that – was the last major threat and anything to do with it concerned Lys.

Myr would soon be weakened

"Stirrings?" Belano's expression turned from playful into one of seriousness.

"Something to be discussed with the others." Johanna answered.

Belano looked at her for a long moment before he finally nodded, the playful look reappearing on his face as he turned towards the garden square. "I shall go find a partner for the eve." Belano said as he stood up though he paused as he looked down at Lady Rogare and then her. "Unless either of you have wish of a pleasant eve?"

Johanna smiled amusingly at Belano. "I'm afraid I'll be preoccupied for the night."

Belano gracefully bowed his head towards her before he looked towards Lady Rogare. "I'm afraid it's the same for me." Lady Rogare denied though she did so with a coy smile.

"I understand." Belano said and before he left, he addressed them one more time. "Ladies." And then he was off to find a fortunate woman.

"I would have thought you might have said yes." Johanna said with a coy note to her voice and Lady Rogare lost the smile as she met Johanna's eyes.

"He'll have to do much better than that if he ever intends to win me." Lady Rogare said in a haughty voice and Johanna's lips twitched at the jesting.

There was much change in the woman. The threat to hers and her children's lives, the murder of her family at the hands of the usurpers and, of course, her debt to Johanna had seen her change greatly out of necessity.

Oh, she was still the same woman, of course, ambitious, cunning and had a sense of superiority over most, but her sense of self-importance had been bruised and broken. Plus, Johanna mused, she was much more pleasant to be around, regardless if it was because of change or because it was self-serving.

"Perhaps once he knows there is something to be won, he might do much better." Johanna said with a winning smile and Lady Rogare hummed for a moment before she answered.

"We'll see."

There was a lull in their conversation and in their silence, they merely watched the happenings of the Ball. The ball had been thrown to celebrate the signing of the trade agreement with the Summer Islanders though that was merely an excuse to throw a celebration. Lys would always find an excuse for a celebration.

Over the course of the next little while, she and Lady Rogare spoke with whomever approached them, idle chatter and congratulations, and once they were left alone again, Johanna sparked up a conversation of curiosity.

"I hear Lysandro has fitted into his role like a hand into glove. I hope it is not wearing him out too much?" Johanna asked curiously. Her eldest son was now four and ten, on the cusp of manhood, and he'd been pushing for greater responsibility for managing the affairs of the bank.

Johanna had acquiesced to the demand, curious to see how the boy would do and she had to admit she'd not expected the boy to be able to cope so well co-managing the Bank with temporary chairman.

From all accounts, the boy knew the business well and had a mind for numbers.

At her questioning, Lady Rogare blossomed a genuine smile. A proud one.

"It has been keeping him busy." Lady Rogare said with a wry smile. "Less trips to the pillowhouses, for certain, but I do not think he minds overly much." Lady Rogare lost her smile a little. "He always wanted to lead the Bank, as soon as he understood what it meant from his father. Sacrificing for it means nothing to him."

Johanna nodded understandingly. She understood. Finding a passion in life was as good as finding love in a man or woman. She'd found her passion many years ago and she was now living it. If it was the same kind of passion for Lysandro, he'll work his entire life to see the Rogare Bank reign supreme in the Known World.

"Though I do worry if his loss in the interest of the fairer sex might have come because of his newfound love for this double-entry bookkeeping." Lady Rogare said with amusement in her tone of voice.

Johanna raised her eyebrow at the comment. Aegon had left behind two scholars to teach the Rogare Bank some techniques in running the bank, something that had raised her – and many other – eyebrows.

Westeros had no interest in banking and had none except for some small local establishments in the major cities, too insignificant to be worthy to be called banks, so it had been odd to see him insist on having his people try and teach people who had entire generations working in the Rogare Bank or something similar.

But they collectively smiled and let him do it.

Not only because of the mutual defence and trade treaty Lys had signed with Aegon and Elamaerys, or the providing of the secrets to liquid stone to the much diminished Poison's Guild, but also because Prince Aegon deposited eight million gold coins in the Rogare Bank, with an added promise that more would come.

Part of the demands with the deposit – excluding the share that Aegon now held in the Rogare Bank which was spent during the campaign – which included collateral against the Bank and Lys should the Bank 'misuse' the added capital they now had, included that his scholars would impart some knowledge and techniques that would suit the Bank.

Johanna had not been too interested in such things. It was not her forte but she was at least kept informed. It was why she knew of this double-entry bookkeeping technique…and the consequences of it.

"The way he speaks of it suggests that he may have found his first love." Lady Rogare said with a conspiratorial smile.

Johanna smiled in amusement though she lost it little as she tilted her in curiosity.

"It is truly that impressive? This technique?" Johanna wondered. She knew that a few of the bookkeepers had been let go in the past few moons for cheating the bank and that it had been partly because of this technique but she hadn't much thought about it much more than that.

Lady Rogare's teasing look disappeared as she turned serious. Noddingly she spoke. "It is a system that is not dissimilar to what we have had before but it is far more methodical in its simplicity. I can tell just by looking at some of the account records used with this system that there will be far less mistakes" Lady Rogare said with a mocking smile "in the books."

She continued "It has gotten Lysandro much more interested in learning of what these scholars have to teach. Apparently, they specialise in economics. It wouldn't surprise me if Lysandro tried to poach them." Lady Rogare said with a wry smile.

Johanna smiled as well. She'd like to see that. See if fortune and influence may sway Aegon's people. And it wasn't as if Lys was a bad place to stay. Certainly beats having to wait years and decades for buildings to be finished in Elamaerys.

She picked her glass. "Well, it seems like Lysandro – and Lys – will have a bright future ahead." She said with sincerity and Lady Rogare picked up her own glass and nodded proudly.

"To Lys and my son."

Four Days Later…

The monthly Commune meeting with the three and ten Magisters of Lys had gone as expected. They talked about the concerns the Guilds had, the state of crime in the city, the number of foreign ships that sailed to port, and so on.

There had been, of course, a significant dip in traders arriving to Lys from the nearest cities and towns however it seemed like it would pick up significantly in the next year or so, particularly ships from places they had less traditional links with, such Starfall and Plankytown.

As it was, they'd already indicated to the Dornish that they had want of more grain.

With thousands of former slaves arriving to Lys every sennight from the Disputed Lands, there was some concern amongst the Council that they would be eating into their reserves, that their farms would not be able to cope with feeding the city, the influx of people and support the army with a level of food supplies.

There was some validity to the points raised. The farms of Lys were sufficient enough to feed a portion of the city whilst another portion came from the purchase of grain and wheat from traders of the Reach.

It was been prudent to approach the Dornish traders for purchasing more of their excess production of wheat, grain and barley. The Dornish, though mostly a desert land, were blessed with floodplains that were fertile.

Buying their excess would suit Lys fine enough.

They then discussed the potential in the agreement with the Summer Islanders, the subtle inferences the Summer Islanders made to a 'grand alliance' between the Summer Isles, Lys, Liberty Bay, and, of course, Elamaerys.

There were few amongst the magisters that had much opposition to it, the only real opposition being what the scale of this alliance would be. Would it merely be trade or would it be more sweeping? Was there even a scope for it?

The Summer Isles were weeks away on a good journey and Liberty Bay were moons away. Elamaerys was even more distant than that. As it was, the defensive treaty with Elamaerys was only agreed, in part, in thanks for his assistance over the years in aiding the rebellion, limited though it had been.

And, of course, no one failed to notice that the mutual defence portion of the treaty was mostly aimed at ensuring Lys' independence from outside forces. That too, of course, played a large role in the acceptance of the mutual defence portion of the treaty.

In any case, the distances at play amongst the peoples were too large at present to be meaningful. There was also the question about the Summer Isles and their usefulness. How sure were they that the Summer Islanders would come aid Lys?

The Summer Islanders were notorious for being disinclined to involve themselves in the matters of others. Even now, these Crow Warriors that fought with Aegon were only numbered in less than a thousand.

A token force that depended more on personal friendship than it did between the peoples of the Summer Isles and that of Aegon's people. If Volantis attacked them, would the Summer Islanders do more than just send a token force?

There was also the question mark whether or not Lys wanted to be involved with Liberty Bay itself, outside of trading. Anyone could see that the cities were far less stable than any other presently.

And with the Dothraki, New Ghis, Qarth and Volantis on its borders, perpetual conflict may pull Lys into their affairs…should they survive the first conflict.

Most were in opposition in anything more than a trade alliance with the Summer Isles and Liberty Bay, at least until they had 'proven' themselves reliable. So at the end of the discussions, they tabled the possibility for another time though several of the magisters were assigned to create a list of wants and needs Lys would have in such a trade alliance.

The meeting, once the most immediate talking points had been concluded, went towards the Disputed Lands and Aegon's campaign there.

One of the port towns, Fylloris, fortified with a thousand men and defended by a small fleet of twenty of those oversized carracks, was where all of the liberated slaves were sent as Aegon and his men ravaged through the Disputed Lands.

Most of the ports and towns and estates along the coastlines have been pillaged and the slaves liberated in their tens of thousands and taken to Fylloris over the course of the campaign, a majority of them already having been ferried over to the countryside of the Lysene Islands.

Some of that coin that Aegon had deposited, the portion that belonged to Aegon and not to Elamaerys or his men, was spent to feed these people and supporting the army and Fylloris, along with, of course supplying needed supplies like boots, clothing and the like. Again, the concern was raised that they could not take on much more, especially if Aegon was successful in passing through all of the towns and villages and estates, including those taken by sellswords and bandits groups.

The Disputed Lands, though ravaged for centuries at this point, was still a fertile land with many of the wealthiest across the Free Cities having interests there, particularly in the slave farms that both bred slaves and farmed the land.

They were not so concerned about the loss of food from these lands, particularly since they'd been cut off ever since the rebellion succeeded – Johanna and her cohorts had ensured that the deals with the Reach merchants had been in place long before – but they were concerned about the number of people in the Disputed Lands.

It would not be so wrong to say that there were perhaps as many as several hundred thousand people in the Disputed Lands. Scattered yes, in small numbers, for certain, but nonetheless there were many people there.

And most of them were slaves, with as many as a hundred thousand being slaves.

Lys would not be able to feed them, even with coin from Aegon, if they were all to come to Lys. They'd said as much to Aegon. Nor would his fleet, even including that of the Lysene fleet which was already much reduced, be able to take those people to Liberty Bay and return on time, considering the pace of his pillaging.

He would have to take them across land, unless he wanted to wait for perhaps more than a year for ships to take the last of these people.

As far as they knew, Aegon had not yet decided on his course of action.

Johanna knew, however, the magisters were hoping that he would take them through land…directly through Volantis' territory. It had been why they'd given Aegon four thousand men instead of two thousand men, to bolster his forces.

She expected Aegon likely knew that this might be the hope of the magisters. It was an easy conclusion to reach, when they'd warned him that they could only take forty thousand people, a limit they were rapidly reaching.

What he will choose however…none of them knew. Not even Johanna.

Taking on Volantis with such a small force, and succeeding, was going to be difficult, especially since there was almost no whiff of dissent amongst the cities of Volantis.

But Aegon had succeeded before and so the magisters hoped he would so do again.

The discussion continued about the campaign in the Disputed Lands, and the opportunity that could exist once it was over.

With the liquid stone method, they could be able to carve out portions of the Disputed Lands for themselves. Using the method to build walls and fortifications around settlements that they can defend.

Little by little, in this way, they could grow their territory in the Disputed Lands.

The meeting then came to an end after a vote on what to do once Aegon departed the Disputed Lands. The decision was made to take hold of Fylloris once Aegon departed and build upon it, beginning, what they'd hoped, would be the start of their expansion.

An expansion, they'd hoped, would see the Disputed Lands become Lynoros.

-Break-

Mid to Late 113 AC – Disputed Lands

Ser Trytas POV

Trytas gritted his teeth as he leaned forward, and, with a furious swing of his poleaxe, he buried it through the skull of the retreating soldier, the sound of bone cracking a dull thing amidst the cries of battle and cries of the townfolk.

With a grunt, he pulled out his poleaxe and pulled at the reins of his horse, forcing the horse to turn as he surveyed his surroundings.

He saw his men engaged in battle in the overrun town an-

His eyes narrowed at the sight of a cluster of his men pitched in hard battle and with a swift pull and kick, his horse took him towards where he wanted to go, his hand tightening over the hilt of his poleaxe as his horse galloped towards the men.

The man his horse was aimed towards noticed his arrival far too late as his horse careened into the body of the man, likely killing instantly, and Trytas swung with his poleaxe to take the head of another soldier with a roar of a shout.

His horse shrieked with pain as one of the enemy soldiers struck at his horse's neck, and his horse reared with wild panic and pain and Trytas let himself be flung from atop his horse.

"Commander!" One of the men shouted out as Trytas had the air knocked out from his lungs, his head ringing from the impact of the ground. His world felt as if it was spinning, the small amounts of food in his stomach threatening to rise and Trytas had swung across his poleaxe when he realised that there were arms around his.

He felt strong hand stop his movement and just before he was to struggle again, he heard a familiar voice "Commander, it's me! Brunn!"

"Brunn?" Trytas said with a hint of confusion though his confusion was clearing as he saw the familiar helm of the young man. "Brunn." Trytas grunted in acknowledge before he shook his head slightly, the world spinning a lot less now.

"Glad to see you alright, Commander." There was obvious relief in the young man's voice and Trytas took to look around him. The collection of enemy soldiers had whittled down to only one now, surrounded by two of his men.

After the enemy soldier had been struck down, Trytas took to look around and saw his horse dead on the ground. Shame. He liked that horse. It was swift enough.

Trytas pulled his arm from Brunn and glanced around and saw that there were only a few more pockets of substantial fighting as his men, on horseback and on foot stroke down any that resisted, freedmen and soldier alike, whilst others were tying up those who had surrendered.

Trytas moved towards another pocket but he felt a strong hand on his shoulder and Trytas swivelled his head towards the man who dared with narrowed eyes.

Brunn did not shirk from his stern glare but he did remove his hand. "Commander, the fighting is almost over. There'll be plenty of other towns and villages."

Trytas blew through his nose as he sent a withering glare at the young man before he looked away and scanned his surroundings. Yes…he was not needed, he thought with a grimace as he began to move a little. 'I do feel like shit.' Trytas thought as he felt his neck and back sore. It was going to hurt like a bitch in the morn.

"Go and help the others." Trytas said and he didn't wait for a response as he turned away from the man and moved towards his dead horse to take his shield.

A little while later…

He walked through the gates to the manse, doing his best to remove a limp from his steps, passing through the courtyard and through the manse, until he was greeted by the sight of his men surrounded by one and ten kneeling people.

Young and old.

One of the men told him as he approached. "Two of them died in the capture, Commander." Trytas nodded before he stopped right in front of them.

The children and the wives had their eyes down, whimpering and doing their best keep their cries silent. The men were also afraid, though a couple of them met his eyes. He looked towards the boldest of them. An old man.

"What is to become of us now?" the elder of the family asked, his voice unwavering as he met Trytas' cold eyes with calmness, almost acceptance Trytas would say, a stark contrast to the rest of his kin.

Long moments passed as he stared at the elder man who had the balls to keep meeting Trytas' stare. He felt a smidgen of respect for the old bastard.

"You will live." Trytas said without much care as he looked away and surveyed the hall of the manse. Tapestries and paintings adorned the walls.

"Though I cannot say how many of you that will be" Trytas said as he turned to meet the old man's gaze "if you resist to tell me where all of your wealth is"

"There is a room at the far side of this manse. Behind the closet, there is a locked door that leads to a chamber with the wealth of my family. The key is around my neck." The old man was quick to say and Trytas gestured one of the men, a Lysene soldier, forward.

The Lysene soldier hand went down the old man's dress shirt and he pulled out a key dangling from a chain and pulled at it, breaking it from around the old man's neck who grimaced in pain at the act.

"Ser Luke. Go with him." Trytas only said before he turned towards the old man and Trytas walked towards him, only stopping when he was but a few feet from him. "Is that all that you have?" Trytas said as he leaned forward, studying the man.

He did not care for the wealth. He only cared ensuring there was a lasting punishment against these folk. With the Prince's new direction, it was really the only path available to him to ensure that these people were punished.

And he would not shirk from that duty.

There was a waver in the man's eyes and Trytas' expression grew colder at the break of his composure. Fools. Even when the sword was hovering over their necks, their minds were always on coin.

"There is another chamber!" one of the women said hastily and Trytas did not look towards her, only staring directly into the eyes of the man who grew panicked at the call.

"Yes, yes, there is another chamber!" The old man said with sweat forming on his forehead and the man quickly explained where this room was.

"You should be grateful to that lady, old man." Trytas said with a scowl on his face before he turned away. "She just saved your family." Trytas gestured his men to take them away.

"What will happen to us?!" one of the nobles asked through the quiet cries and whimpers of the womanfolk and the children.

Trytas paused for a moment and he looked over his shoulder as he spoke. "You get to live. If I were you, I'd make the journey to somewhere else." Trytas said before he turned away and walked towards the exits of the manse.

Two moons later…

The sounds of the army and its followers behind him dulled to a mute sound as he stared at those grey walls. They were tall. As tall as the walls around Meereen.

After so many years, he was finally here.

After such a long and hard campaign…he was finally here.

It was surprising, even to him, even at this moment where he would finally get some peace, whether he'd lived or died, that he felt so…underwhelmed.

He wondered if it was because he was so tired.

The past three or four moons – he lost track long before this point – had been a gruelling affair. If he ever saw another piece of dried meat…

From the moment they landed in the Disputed Lands until only a few weeks ago, there was not a week where their army had not been fighting.

Along the coastline, they'd fought likely something like three battles a week, taking village and town and estates wherever they passed through in small units.

Once they made further inland, the fighting slowed as they had to cover more land, only increasing again when they arrived into Myrrish territory.

It hadn't been easy either. Or fast. Once, one of the units had to fight outnumbered against a sellsword company that sought fortune through the disarray found in the Disputed Lands with the fall of the Triarchy, forcing them to slow down their approach with more in depth scouting being done to minimise a similar occurrence.

Complicated conquest plans were made to minimise overextensions and to ensure that aid could arrive in time. Towns and fortified estates had been the centre of this plan, moving across one area of the Disputed Lands to the next only once a diameter of ten leagues had been secured.

His thick head was filled to the brim with strategies with regards to dividing armies and units ways to avoid overextension, with methods of unit deployment geared towards avoiding being ambushed at night or day and with more damn logistics than he ever wanted and thought he ever wanted, needed, to know.

It had been difficult. Difficult truly. And with how they were not wiping clean the lands of slavers, they had to be content with the removal of all wealth and weaponry from the places, leaving behind tens of thousands of angry folk that were angry at the loss of their wealth and their slaves.

To tell the truth, it was surprising that they only had to deal with rebellions a few times, most of the folk that remained in their towns or villages causing little trouble. The ones that had been problematic were, of course, dealt with.

Even if it was 'mild' in comparison to what they've done before.

Trytas sighed heavily.

He'd been sceptical at first when the Prince, after his divine escape from death, had told him that he wished to cease the culling, explaining that the need for it had passed with the destruction of the slaver class in the three main instigators.

He'd thought that the Prince might change his mind with Elyria but he'd decided to merely exile them to a simple life on Velos, a decision he had accepted begrudgingly.

And when they discussed the plans for the Disputed Lands, the mercy had only increased in scale, letting the slavers go with only their wealth, their slaves and their pride taken. If they did not resist anyway.

Now, now, he could see the wisdom in the decision.

'I really am tired' Trytas mused to himself. He'd never thought he'd tire. Never mind feeling like this even as he stood a mere few leagues away from those he hated the most, Trytas thought with a distant mind as he lost himself in his watching of those grey tall walls.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been standing there, just watching, when the familiar voice of his Prince drew him out of his thoughts.

"I thought I might find you here."

Trytas turned around and gazed upon the Prince. He was in his heavily worn maroon and blue armour – not that the Prince ever was out of it as far as he knew – and wore the Seven-Pointed Star amulet out in the open. But that is not what drew the eyes. The scar on his face always drew the eyes. Flesh had folded over the lost eye and scars from brow to jaw, even if discontinued, always drew the eye.

It was a grim injury. It suited the Prince. A warrior King couldn't be without battle scars. Especially not a warrior King that boasted the beauty of the Targaryens.

Now, the Prince looked like a figure of legend that he was, the kind of heroes and warriors that young boys were told by their fathers generations from now.

"Should be more careful or else you might find yourself ambushed, Ser Trytas." Prince Aegon said with a faint smile as he stretched out a sheepskin to Trytas.

Trytas snorted as bowed slightly towards his Prince before he took the sheepskin. He drank his lot of water before he then met the Prince's eye. "No one is going to send an army of pisswankers to take my head, my Prince. Not special enough. Unlike some others." Hadn't that been interesting?

Some pisscunt in New Ghis had hired Sorrowful Men to take out the Prince. New Ghis! After he squeezed out that little secret from the stubborn bastards, to say that he'd been surprised had been an understatement. New Ghis! Fuckers.

They'd soon get a little visit from the rest of the army back in Liberty Bay, that's for sure.

"If that is what is meant to be special then I'd like to be a little less special." Prince Aegon said with an amused glint in his eye. Trytas snorted.

'A whole lot less special, my Prince. You'd have to be a whole lot less.' Trytas said with some amount of amusement before he shook his head and took to stare at the walls again, all levity fading away.

A long moment passed before Trytas broke the silence in order to answer his Prince's question. "Couldn't sleep." Trytas said with a glance at the prince before he returned his eyes towards the city walls in the distance.

"Hmm." The Prince made out as he stood next to Trytas. "I know the feeling."

They remained standing like this for quite some time, neither of them saying anything as they simply watched.

Only after a long while passed, enough time that the position of the sun had moved, did Trytas speak. "When do you think they'll send an envoy?"

They'd only arrived here late last eve. It was already near eve today and there was still no envoy. Nothing.

"Perhaps tomorrow. Perhaps the day after the morrow. Perhaps the day after that." Prince Aegon only said in response and Trytas grunted in affirmation.

"Suppose they'll wait 'till they can't bear it any longer. The mystery." Trytas said with disdain in his tone of voice.

"Yes." Prince Aegon with a hum in his voice before he sighed and it was a tired sigh. Trytas understood it to the depths of his soul.

The campaign had been taken out a lot of them all. And with the train of people that they were taking with them…

Again there was a long moment of silence.

"Do you think they'll agree to the terms?" Trytas asked as he turned to face the Prince. Trytas never thought he'd be fine with not destroying the city, or at least killing everyone with a hint of power in that rat infested shithole of a place, but at this point, he'd make do with just a few dozen heads.

"It depends." Prince Aegon said with a grim smile. "It depends on the power dynamics in that city. If the names we're asking for wield too much power in the city…" the Prince shrugged. "If we're unlucky, the envoy they'll send is also connected to the heads we're demanding and they could lie about our demands."

Trytas scowled. The Prince would never send an envoy to Myr with their demands.

He valued the lives of their men too much to potentially send them to their deaths without any chance of survival, should the Myrrish be inclined to reject the demands.

Trytas lost his scowl as he stared intently at the Prince who now looked towards the city with a look of acceptance on his face.

The campaign had also taken its toll on the Prince. Especially as they marched towards Myr. The Myrrish had stationed many scorpions in each of the towns in their territory. None of them had been successful in grazing Mīsaragorn's scales.

Or armour.

Divine luck had to be received in order to hit Mīsaragorn and the Gods were with the Prince. Even if they were lucky to hit Mīsaragorn, unless it was through the eye, or through a gaping mouth, nothing could pierce the dragon.

As all of the towns had discovered, some of which had large parts of their towns reduced to smouldering ruins.

So Trytas knew what it would mean if Myr rejected the demands. What it would mean for Prince Aegon. There were many innocents in that damned city and if…

"We could leave, my Prince. With our honour intact." Trytas said and he seemed to have surprised the Prince.

Trytas grunted as he looked away from the scrutinizing eye of the Prince.

Despite the loss of that green eye of his, the unsettling way the Prince at times looked at someone had never faded. Once, he'd thought that green eye could see through their very being, as if he was seeing something that lay beyond mere men.

How strange that despite the loss of that green eye, he still felt the same way whenever the Prince looked at him like that.

"We've done more than any other army has accomplished since the Conqueror, my Prince. We have punished the majority of those who took our people with fire and blood. Lys is now free. Tyrosh has fallen to the same chaos we're brought to this damned land. Yes, Myr, the source of our greatest ire has not directly suffered but they have suffered. Perhaps that is enough." Trytas said with a heavy scowl.

He wasn't pleased to say but the Gods knew that he was tired and he wanted to be done. He wanted his ship and he wanted to fish. He wanted a good woman to birth him sons to name after himself and his friend Jace. And daughters too. Just so that he can scare the shit out of their intended. Aye, Trytas thought he'd like that.

'Jace. Old friend. Would you forgive me if my vengeance for what happened to you and the other of our people came up short?' Trytas wondered to himself as he stared at those walls.

His hate for the Myrrish had not lessened. Not even a little.

But they'd lost a good many people on this war. In this campaign alone, they'd lost over two thousand men. Two hundred of them Elamaeri. A few dozen here. A few dozen there. So many battles. It took its toll on them.

And he didn't want his Prince to blacken his soul with the deaths of hundreds of thousands for the sake of vengeance.

"I considered that option many times." Prince Aegon finally said after a long few moments of silence. Trytas looked upon the Prince and saw a little smile tuck underneath his beard.

"I miss my wife. I miss my children. I miss the hope and excitement and the attitude of our people. That nothing can stand in our way. That we can build anything. That we can accomplish anything." Prince Aegon said with a wistful tone of voice. He then sighed heavily, his shoulders squaring slightly.

"But I also know my duty to our people has not ceased." Prince Aegon's voice took on a hardened edge as he met Trytas' eyes. "There must be examples made against those who dare strike at us. It will be up to the Myrrish to decide if they want it to be an example of half their city burning and then meeting our demands or if they want the example to be through meeting our demands from the beginning."

There was cold determination in the Prince's eyes, the kind that showed Trytas that the Prince meant everything he said.

The cold determination faded and the Prince looked away from Trytas.

"I can only hope that the Myrrish are wise to understand the fate that stands before them. I can only hope." Prince Aegon said with grim acceptance in his tone of voice.

Trytas was not a fool. He understood that there were several reasons why Prince Aegon did not want to desolate Myr. Outside of having such a stain on his soul.

One of them, Trytas knew, was the exposure of what a dragon truly was capable of to the rest of the Free Cities and Westeros too. Trytas had seen the devastation a dragon like Mīsaragorn was capable of.

It was terrifying.

And that had been when the Prince was directly working towards avoiding severe death by dragonflame.

And with how exhausted everyone was in the army, with how small the army was, with how well defended Myr was, they knew that a frontal assault was going to be impossible.

Mīsaragorn was the only way they'd win.

And that victory…

That victory would be steeped in ash and smoke.

And now all their hopes in avoiding all of that was that Myr giving in.

'My old friend…you would have loved the irony.'

-Break-

Mid to Late 113 AC – Volantis, The Temple of the Lord of Light

Lessela POV

Her steps were silent as she walked across the stone bridge. The winter winds weaved through the air, twisting and turning, coating her skin with an cold breath.

She pulled closer her silken scarlet robes as she ventured closer towards the Temple of the Lord of Light, its massive fire beacon a blanket of warmth to her soul even as her skin felt cold to the touch.

She walked up the steps and passed the open massive white doors, doors that were carved out of white wood and engraved with the symbols of flames that many of the Priests replicated on their skins, and she breathed in heavily the welcoming burn that permeated through the eerie hall.

Great blackened marble stone pillars stood sentinel on either side of the entrance, bright red tapestries that bore R'hllor's words hung between the pillars, a domed ceiling that one could almost swear to be as far as the moon itself crowned the Temple, and she felt the same significance she always felt when she returned to her home…to her Lord.

The slaves she walked past bowed at her, whispering her honorifics, and she continued to walk through the Temple until she reached another set of steps, steps that led towards the upper floors of the Temple.

Some while later she finally arrived at her destination, the floor where the highest ranked in the Temple resided.

"Priestess." The slave soldiers bowed deeply as she arrived at a set of doors in a secluded part of the floor and they opened the door for her. She walked in, the smell of rosy air and honey and amber pleasantly filled her nose.

The room was giant. Pillow seats stuffed with the finest of feathers and sewn with the softest of silks, barred windows that overlooked over much of Volantis, tapestries and paintings that showed pleasant scenes and greeneries, all adorned on the walls.

"Mother Priestess." She heard say with a gasp of breath and Lessela turned to look towards the origin of the words. There, sitting across a table were four girls. A girl of four and ten, a girl of six and ten and two girls in twenty or one and twenty nameday. All of them bore the look of Old Valyria, their breeding as impeccable as they could manage in such a short time.

She smiled at the four girls as she walked towards them. The girls stood up from their seating position, cakes and tea and other such pleasantries were on the table, much of it already eaten. Good.

Her eyes fell on the girls' bellies. One of them, Weneya, the girl that was twenty namedays old, was the furthest along with her being almost three moons.

The others were only a moon or two moons along.

"Stand, my dear girls." Lessela said with a soothing tone of voice as she gestured the girls to stop bowing.

The girls did as she told them to and there was a look of cautious curiosity.

"I'm just here to see how you are. Has the food been to your liking?"

It was the first time she was seeing them in over two moons.

The youngest of the girls, the one who was most new to the Temple, couldn't help but flush with some amount of happiness. "It's been wonderful! Never had such things to eat!"

The girl had been found amongst the poorer of the Old Blood. A bastard daughter sired on a slave girl that worked in their kitchens. Not surprising that she was so pleased with such simple luxury.

"It has been good, Mother Priestess." One of the other girls confirmed more sedately. Lessela smiled.

"I'm pleased." Lessela said as she gestured them to sit and she sat next to the youngest, her hand falling on the girl's thigh. "There will be much more like this if you want, my dear girls. Although I would say that you should eat plenty of meats too. For the growing girls and boys." Lessela said with a soothing smile.

"I think mine will be a girl. I hope she has my eyes." The youngest girl, Sirina, said with some delight in her eyes. She was pleased to see the girl was happy.

It wouldn't do for the child to suffer. Any of these children.

"I'm sure she will." Lessela before her eyes flickered towards the girls and then to the food. "The Lord is pleased with all of you girls and will surely reward you with children that will make you proud." Lessela said with a soothing smile.

The girls smiled at her words and they began to caress their bellies, bellies that carried much of the hopes of the Temple.

Hours Later…

A raspy breathing echoed through the dark chambers. The smell of blood was pungent in the air, the coppery taste felt sweet to her tongue.

Her wide eyes stared at the body that hung from the arms. Two ropes were around the man's arms. One set just above the wrists and another set just around the upper arms, holding him aloft with the ropes tied to pillars either side of him.

His body was without clothing, as naked as he came to the world, dried blood tainting the dressing that was around his wrists, and his head bowed down, looking towards the stone floor.

Footsteps echoed in the distance, growing louder and louder as she continued to stare at the figure in front of her.

The echoes only stopped when the Priest stopped beside her.

She tilted her head slightly as she watched closely the skin of the hanging man. It was pale. Paler than pale. He looked as if he was on the precipice of death.

More than he did before.

"Not many more draining left, is there?" she mused aloud as she glanced towards the High Priest Aerychos.

The old man hummed. "Mayhaps three more times if we're lucky. We may decide to be done with him after the next drain. We're getting substantially less from him."

Lessela looked away from him and back towards the hanging man. "I'm sure we have enough for what we need."

"Some wish that we keep some for experimentation. After all, we have to wait for a few decades for the next ritual."

"We live to serve." Lessela said in answer. There was no greater purpose than seeing to the success of the ritual. What did small tricks of power compare to hearing, with far greater clarity than ever, from R'hllor himself?

"We live to serve. Yes."

Few of the Priests or Priestesses understood her as well as Aerychos did.

"Saera Targaryen has perished." Lessela said, breaking the moment of silence.

"I see. A shame. Any of us?"

"No. A rival of hers."

"Hmm. The Favoured One?"

"Yes. Because of him." Lessela confirmed.

The situation in Volantis was quite interesting. The quiet disturbance they were creating was unsettling the Old Blood. More of the slave soldiers patrolled the streets of Volantis.

As all animals do, some of the Old Blood lashed out at Saera Targaryen and one of her other sons, the ones they couldn't get their hands on. Although now…

"We may get the other one."

Lessela silently nodded. "I would have suggested the offspring as well but their blood may be too diluted to be of use to us now. No better than the blood of the other Old Blood." Not quite true, she supposed.

The Old Blood liked to claim pure descendance but they were no more than mongrels born of soldiers and minor families. None of them boasted any distinguished bloodlines. Not even a drop of blood from the famed Blood Mages of Valyria.

The grandchildren of Saera Targaryen would still carry a quarter of her blood, the blood of Kings and the blood of Dragonlords.

"We'll have to see. You have informed Jaerros?"

"Of course."

"Good. It will strengthen the ritual if his blood is fresh."

She glanced at him for a moment before she looked back at Qavo Vhassar.

"You have doubts?" Aerychos asked with the familiar soothing deep voice of his, a tickle of curiosity colouring his tone.

"Not doubts. Merely cautious."

"I understand." Aerychos said. "It has been a long time since the Temple has tried to divine R'hllor's will through the Living Flame."

The last time anyone tried, the High Priest and ten other priests and priestesses were consumed by the Living Flame. This had been in the year after the Doom.

"But now, the time has come to understand R'hllor's Will with better clarity." Aerychos said and she turned to meet his gaze. His eyes, dull though they may be, were confident and self-assured.

When she'd returned to Volantis and told Aerychos and the other priests of the Prince, curiosity and uncertainty had wormed itself into the Order.

Her visions had come true.

She had indeed been the woman shrouded in crimson flames, shrouded in mission for her Lord.

She'd helped Prince Aegon in 'ripping out the hooks of the shadow' when she cut off the creature sent by the Great Other and allowed Prince Aegon the opportunity to kill the creature though not without losing the emerald gem.

Her fingers had been draped by the dripping black blood of the Great Other's Agent, reaching out from the Lord's flames to wound the creature to buy the Prince time he needed to slay it.

The Lord had sent her to save the life of Prince Aegon.

A heretic. Yet a Favoured One. One of his most cherished children.

And the ordeal…

The ordeal had sparked Prince Aegon's inner flame. A flame that burned more brightly than she'd seen before. She shuddered in remembrance.

She could not help but wonder if he was not truly the Prince who was Promised.

A thought that had gripped several of the Priesthood. Even if he was not, which it seemed most likely for it was not yet time for the War of the Dawn, it was clear that the Prince was of utmost importance. To be protected against the terrors of the night.

It was more than likely that the Prince that was Promised would stem from the line of Aegon, the Unburnt.

"To understand the Lord's Will or to understand why he favours the Prince?" Lessela asked with a soothing smile.

Aerychos smiled back and she got her understanding.

She turned back to face Qavo Vhassar and they both took dear to the solemn quietness, a quietness that was only made more soothing by Vhassar's rasps.