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.

32. Chapter 31

MangoesDeep - I'm glad you enjoy it! Yes, he has a kind of mage sight. More like soul-sight or spiritual energy-sight. Most have a form of it (the First Men can hear the winds whispering) but it takes one's third eye being fully opened to see it all.

coldblue2015 - 1) Lessela is a fanatic. Fanatics dont have a shake of faith. They just reframe it. 2) Aegon is like a newborn to that kind of magic. It'll take a long time before he understands how healing works without it causing harm to himself or to others.

Visual Bliss - ;) Aegon had more important stuff to think on at that stage!

LongingResider - none of them in all honesty. Aegon seems more like he'd like Phil Coulson above everyone else. A good man who tries his best but knows that sometimes bad shit needs to be done in order to get to the good stuff. Re the bending and the philosophy bits, good perception. And yes, the intimate part of the magical system is a bit along those lines although there is an overarching magical system that goes beyond the Self, and ultimately that is linked to the larger way most people in ASOIAF use stuff like shadowbinding and so on.

Dscot - agree re Viserys good man, but bad king.

Hyperion2000 - One could call self-sacrifice magic almost akin to a gateway drug ;))))). Seriously though, once you get a hang of it, and a taste for it, it's a slippery slope.

Tony McNucklz - RE: Golden eyes - the golden eyes is a reference to the one of the gemstone emperors which tie in to Aegon's theory about ancestral songs. The connection between Lys and Aegon will definitely be known at some point or another. It is politically expedient for it to be known for everyone. lmao the combination of lovecraft and 40k is quite on the nail ;). Including the Tolkien link. The three are very much the inspiration for much of this story, at least when it comes to 'magic'.

Regarding the eye loss - if you read the last chap again, you'll notice that he was beginning to see things beyond normal perception as soon as he was back from that realm. He didn't need to lose the eye to have kept the sight. Unfortunately, shit happens. Re: Myr, he'll have to use another means to get them to bend.

ImbaMLG - it ends when it ends. If you're unhappy about that, you can always wait until there's a load of chapters where you can skip them. Up to you.

Everyone else, 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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Early 113 AC – Elyria

Ser Aethan POV

Rays of light descended from the heavens through the cracks of grey clouds, grey dark clouds that seemed on the precipice of letting loose a violent volley of rain.

The light of the mostly hidden sun touched upon the calm waters and upon the host of vessels that glided upon it, a gentle touch to accompany the eery calm of the winds that rustled the sails and carried the shouts of sailors and soldiers alike.

Yet, for all that it seemed as if the Gods were waiting upon a grand battle to happen beneath the heavens, it was likely far from the truth, of what was to happen, he thought as he stared upon a burnt and empty harbour and a city with darker blacker clouds rising from behind the city walls, walls that had gaping blackened wounds.

Eight molten wounds were in the city walls, all of them spaced from each other by hundreds, even a thousand, yards from the gates that led to the main ports.

He did not doubt that the inner walls of the city were far worse off.

' They will surely surrender' Aethan thought to himself.

Prince Aegon had flown to Elyria three times whilst the army to set right Tolos.

The first time had only come a day after thousands of noble and freedmen had been executed by dragonfire, where, Aegon atop Mīsaragorn, set aflame to the harbours and the ports. Prince Aegon ignored the ships that'd remained in defence of Elyria and the towers that bore scorpions, only noting where they were kept.

The plan, at first, had been to seize ships though that opportunity seemed long gone now.

The second time Prince Aegon flew to Elyria had been four days later when he'd burnt the city walls, many of the towers and battlements under the cover of night.

The third time, only three days ago, noting that no ships remained nearby and in the burnt harbours and ports, Prince Aegon had surveyed the island and the rocks surrounding it, noting all that could be seen from high above.

He'd seen then that there were battles happening all across the city and upon his return, had ordered that the army disembark post haste and set for Elyria.

' I wonder if all of the rats have escaped the sinking ship' he grimly mused as he stared upon the isle of Elyria, the last holdout in all of Slaver's… Liberty Bay.

They were uncertain what the situation was in Elyria.

If it would welcome them…or if there was to be battle. All signs pointed to surrender but there was enough in it that they had to be cautious. Especially since it was a large city rivalling the population of Astapor before it had been cleansed, with a population of some hundred thousand or perhaps a little less or a little more.

Its slave population was slightly lesser than that of the other slaver cities, more comparable to that of Tolos. Four slaves to a free man. But where they differed to other slaver cities was that Elyria was more alike to the Free Cities where freemen were part of the city's politics.

They also bred their slaves more than they bought them.

It was similar to what the Tolosi slavers did although on a much grander scale considering that Elyria was the poorest city in Liberty Bay, at least according to Ser Uthrik.

That comparatively poorness partially meant Elyria, like Tolos, had a stronger Valyrian heritage from nobility to slave though of course there was more to it too.

Likely pride and circumstance.

Ser Uthrik said that Elyria was almost comparable to Volantis and its daughters because of it, where even the freedmen, though not even close to a majority as could be found in Volon Therys but sizable still in numbers, had amongst them peoples with blue-indigo eyes or silver-blond hair, a rare few even having both.

The stripped nobility exiled to Velos had a sizable number amongst themselves with those Valyrian traits. Elyria, with its proximity to the Ruins of Old Valyria was expected to have more of such Valyrian peoples.

He doubted that they'd find too many women and children to send into exile to Velos as Prince Aegon was wanting to do. Like he'd chosen to do in Velos rather than let the fates of the stripped nobility to the hands of the masses.

Like Meereen and Yunkai.

Though he wondered if it was really much of a mercy to spare their lives given that they bore branded marks upon their faces to indicate their origins as slavers and would live out their lives as no more than farmers, if they were lucky.

In any case, prideful the slaver families may be, they should have been wise enough to escape whilst the chance was still there.

Their campaign, though fast paced, had unwillingly permitted a number of chances for others to escape and spread the news of the viciousness of their campaign.

By road and by ship.

Especially during the moons-long march to Tolos.

Perhaps it would have been wiser to assault Tolos by sea but had they done so, they might brought unto themselves unwanted consequences – slave soldiers turned into roving bandits – by leaving hundreds of thousands of slaves to toil at the estates, farms, mines and towns surrounding the ruins of Bhorash and the Demon Road leading to Tolos.

All things considered however, perhaps the march had unwittingly played into their favour, given the state in which they'd found Tolos when they'd arrived there.

The city had surrendered to their army unconditionally and later they'd learnt that a small civil war had broken out in Tolos where the ones who wished to surrender had won out, aided greatly by slaves and slave soldiers alike.

The victors of that civil war hoped that, by gifting Prince Aegon the corpses of 'slaver families', particularly those who held deep ties with the noble families of the other Slaver Cities, that they'd buy their own lives and that of their families.

It had not. At least not entirely.

Tolos – and the nearby port towns – still had many of its prominent families ripped asunder with the patriarchs and the noble men executed alongside the bulk of affluent freedmen whilst the wealth of their families were taken away, including their ancestral belongings, manses and estates.

Their surviving family members had been cast out of Tolos, some several thousand women and children, taken by a small fleet to Velos where they would be assigned to get the island fit for habitation, later to be joined by thousands of freed slaves from the countryside who would be granted land on the island.

They'd been foolish to think that mercy was an option, and foolish to think they could buy their way out unscathed. They should have left Tolos like those other families who'd left Tolos by ship or by caravan with much of their wealth in tow.

It was unfortunate for them but it seems the Elyrians had likely been wiser, considering that the island's ports and harbours was bereft of all ships – Aethan was undecided whether or not the Prince wanted them to escape instead of seeking them to capture later – as the Prince had left the ships untouched. They'd seen the inevitable coming and they'd swallowed their pride accordingly.

Aethan was gladdened for it. Enough examples had been made to the peoples of the liberated cities, and elsewhere, examples that showed the old ways were dead and buried.

He's seen far too much blood spilled, innocent and guilty, so much so that he'd lost all appetite for needless bloodshed. Even the fact that they likely lost great deal of treasure from the Elyrians did not upset him all that much.

Considering the unfathomable amount of gold and silver they accumulated from these accursed lands, it was not a great deal loss to lose drops of gold and silver.

Aethan was not alone in this opinion, he mused to himself.

Still, the main concerning part in all of this was that they were unknowing about the estimated fifty to a hundred ships that'd escaped from the clutches of the hunter fleets, Admiral Lutherys and Mīsaragorn throughout the Liberty Bay campaign.

Did they leave the Gulf of Grief with the escaping nobility or did some, or most, mutiny and taken hold of their destiny?

More than likely, the captains mutinied and would fall into piracy and slaving, perhaps even doing so at this very moment in time. Many of the enemy captains were after all slavers by trade or noble scions, sometimes both at the same time. They'd have to allocate many ships to patrol the Gulf in search of these ships…

A roar echoed in the air, and Aethan cast his eyes towards the heavens, the dark sight of a dragon at full spread raised the volume of the men's voices on his ship.

Aethan turned his head away from the dominating figure of Mīsaragorn and turned to look towards the flagship that was more than a thousand yards away beside his ship.

A familiar figure stood at the foredeck of the ship, head forward looking and a complicated look passed across Aethan's face, memories of Prince Aegon's wounds flashing at the forefront of his mind.

Impossible wounds, impossibly healed wounds.

The emerald eye was gone and in its place there was scarred over skin, as if flesh had been knitted over the chasm of where the eye once was.

' Aegon the Blessed', ' Aegon the Unburnt', ' Aegon, the Gods' Chosen'

That and more they called him.

There was a religious zeal – bolstered by heretical preachers – around Prince Aegon now, even amongst the Unsullied and many of the Astapori, Yunkai'i and Meerenese soldiers, a zeal that far surpassed the zeal of before, when the Prince had only been seen as a 'shepherd' guiding ' blessed' peoples to the promised land and the man who led the Liberation and the army to victory after victory.

Even that witch, the Red Priestess Aegon spared, likely had some kind of worship with the way he'd seen her stare at the Prince with her disturbing black eyes.

And truthfully, Aethan found it hard to find arguments against the notion that Prince Aegon was… blessed by the Gods.

He did not see the supposed 'demon' that attacked Prince Aegon but from all accounts it was an evil, godless thing, and Prince Aegon should have died from the wounds he suffered and most definitely from dragonflame. Yet he did not and if anything, it seemed as if he'd gained something from the ordeal.

The way the Prince now moved…

After they took Tolos, the Prince had spent weeks sparring with the best swords in the army – Ser Galaenys, Ser Trytas and Commander Rhaegar predominantly – to regain his 'confidence' in his body.

Prince Aegon had been stiff, lacking mobility and arm movement at the start. There was few signs of the violent, precise and powerful strikes Prince Aegon was known for. Days had passed and though few had spoken out that the Prince had lost much strength in his body, many had thought it, Aethan knew.

However all of that changed on the ninth day where it seemed as if Prince Aegon had regained his mobility again, even if he had not regain his full might. There had been hope that the old might of the Prince would return with time.

And it did…in a fashion.

What he'd shown was far from what Prince had shown before.

By the fifteenth day, Prince Aegon was fighting several of the best swordsmen at once, moving his body and his feet with impossible perfection, as if he knew where all of his enemies were, as if he could see the downward strike, the horizontal slash, the vicious forward jabs moments before they happened.

It was as if he'd lost an eye but gained ten more at the back of his head.

It was clear that Prince Aegon did not have his infamous violent strength any longer, once comparable to that of Trytas' strength, but though he lessened in strength, he more than made up with beyond excellent swordsmanship.

By the seventeenth day, Prince Aegon defeated eight of the best swordsmen on his lone self, a feat that even during his best Prince Aegon would not have been able to accomplish, not even close, and not without injuring himself greatly.

Prince Aegon came out of the spar without any injuries.

To say Aethan was wary of the Prince was to understate it.

He knew that Prince Aegon dabbled in the magical arts and for all he knew, all of what had happened to him was no more than a failed attempt at using magic instead of some kind of divine intervention.

For all of that suspicion however, he also knew that he could not dissuade himself of the possibility that the Gods truly favoured Prince Aegon in the way that was claimed.

Elamaerys, the way the campaign was headed, Prince Aegon's survival…

All he could do is keep close watch on the Prince. For now he seemed unchanged, if a bit more reserved and less ruthless, understandable after nearly dying, but that could change. Aethan hoped he was wrong to be suspicious.

Because if he was right to be…

May the Gods have mercy on them all.

Their fleet slowed their approach at the southern tip of the island of Elyria and Aethan, likely everyone else too, watched as Mīsaragorn flew over the city repeatedly, screeching and roaring.

Aethan cast his eyes towards the fleet. There were ninety ships in this fleet, each ship carrying two hundred and fifty men. To say it was crowded was understating it. Fortunately, the journey from Tolos to Elyria was no more than a day.

And, Aethan thought grimly as mirrors began to flash from the flagship in the Corinthos signal language, it was a good thing too that they had the bulk of their army with them.

' TRAP. PREPARE TO ASSAULT THE CITY' had been the message and the ships themselves seemed roared in unison after the captains or first officers of each ship translated the message to the army.

Aethan steeled himself. ' Seven-damned fools…'

Aethan looked towards Ser Haegon, his second in command for the two hundred and fifty men on board of his ship, and nodded to him before Aethan strode towards the foredeck. "ATTENTION!" Aethan bellowed as he rose up the steps and turned to face the men. Ser Haegon and several other knights rounded up the men and when they were assembled, he took to speak.

The possibility of having to assault the city had always been there and so battle plans had thought up, assigning units to specific quadrants of the city and which units would storm through what section of the destroyed wall.

It was a damn shame, Aethan thought as he spoke to his men about their assignment, that the Elyrians would not surrender. A great damn shame. Whilst they did not think they'd be so lucky that they'd have Elyria surrender as Tolos had done, they had expected a far easier conquest.

But...it seems as if the Archons of the city had remained and they were defiant in the face of overwhelming odds, preferring to die than to surrender.

So be it.

The ships cruised to the southern tip of Elyria, towards the gaping holes in the walls, and like dandelions, each crowded ship shed a dozen boats as the white beaches of Elyria beckoned.

And one of those boats carried Prince Aegon as well.

' Our men must see me fight, good sers. It's been too long since I fought side by side with them' Prince Aegon said and he'd been unmoved by any of the arguments posed by the commanders.

Aethan wondered if that had been the real reason or if there was another. He doubted he'd learned of it…

Whilst they rowed and rowed towards the white beaches of Elyria, Mīsaragorn swept down from the heavens pass after pass, torching more of Elyria's walls and buildings in blue flame, the sounds of agonised screams a whisper amongst raucous song and vicious chant and crackling fire.

His boots sank into the wet sands of the white beach amongst thousands of others, the bellows of ' Men to me' and ' Fire and Blood!' and ' For Aegon the Blessed' accompanied with the chiming sounds of moving armour as men banded together into their units and raced towards the gaping sections of smouldering walls.

A roar cut through all noise and Aethan thought he could feel the winds shift as Mīsaragorn in all of his armoured glory flew overhead.

" MEN! FORM UP!" Aethan bellowed and soon his two hundred and fifty men moved like an arrow tip towards their assigned section. Heavy steps and heavy sounds of chiming and clinking armour reverberated around him, drowning out all other noises and soon enough, they arrived, being the first to do so here and they ran through the scorched crumbled walls.

" AARRRCHHERS UP AHEAD!" one of his men called out and Aethan saw what he was shouting about. Standing atop crumbled blackened inner walls, were dozens of archers whilst at the huge chasm of a gap in the inner most wall were hundreds of men protecting the newly fashioned entry into the city proper.

" SHIELD WALLLLL!" Aethan bellowed and as he'd said so, arrows had rained down at them, catching a few of the men in the process though his men were quick and formed up rows of shields that weaved into an unbreakable wall.

Their shields were struck by arrow after arrow and even pelted with stone, no, Aethan thought, it was lead, as he felt the heaviness of the strikes on his shield.

" ARCHERS! FIRE AT WILL! MEN, PROTECT OUR ARCHERS!" Aethan bellowed at the ten archers that were assigned to his unit as they continued to move towards the chasm albeit at a slower pace.

His archers nocked their arrows under the cover of the shields and soon, through the gaps of the shield wall let fly their arrows.

Again and again, his archers let loose and again and again did the enemy arrows strike at their shields but fortunately, a hundred yards after they'd formed the shield wall did more units arrive from behind them.

" ENEMY ARCHERS!" Aethan bellowed as he directed the men behind towards the enemy archers and soon where there had been ten archers were now several dozen more.

When Aethan felt no more arrows striking their shields, no more than two hundred paces away from the enemy position, did he decide to let the men loose. " MEN! FORWAARRDDD!" Aethan bellowed and he was amongst the first to run at the enemy defenders.

The enemy defenders' panicked bastard Valyrian barely registered as he weaved out of the way of a spear thrown at him. Many of the defenders, wearing hardened leather armour and bronze shoulder pads, broke loose from their defensive formation, coming down the small mount of crumbled walls with their curved swords angling to bite at their necks.

The sounds of steel biting steel surrounded him though he paid no attention to the battles of his men as two enemy men, one with spear in hand and another a sword, made their way towards him and Aethan's hand tightened around the hilt of his sword as he moved to meet their challenge.

He ducked under the vicious spear jab, his forward foot bending at the knee as he arced his shield to beat away the spear. In the same move, he twisted his feet to meet the sword slash of the other enemy with that of his own.

He put more force into the strike, breaking the rhythm and stance of the enemy swordsmen, and beat away the enemy sword. He quickly stepped forward again with his shield protecting his body and the spear sunk deep into his shield.

He let of the shield and, after he'd parried the enemy swordsman strike, he brought down a vicious chop that cleanly cut off the enemy swordsman head, and again, with another step, a duck and a feinted move, he smashed at the middle of the spear with a vicious roar, breaking it in half before he slashed in a wide arc and cut the spearman's throat clean.

He spared a glance at the battlefield and saw his men and the units dispatching more of the enemy every moment that passed.

And, Aethan bellowed " OOOOOOONNWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARD !", his sword pointing forward and amidst a raucous roar, the men ran forward into the belly of the city.

There was little rhyme or reason as they moved into the city proper. Men with scimitars, men with spears or axes or bow and arrow greeted them through the streets of Elyria. It seemed as if they were battling all of Elyria itself.

Though there were women and men scrambling to seek cover, some slave looking, most not, they seemed far and few as they battled through the mazy streets.

Aethan had little doubt that many of them were dying as well in this chaos. Though many of the enemies had armour on, some did not and that…that would only cause confusion and risk-aversion by the men, Aethan knew.

' They should have surrendered…'

His blade sung a tune that never seemed to end, whistling and screaming through the air, through skin and through bone, hacking and slashing and chopping, killing and killing and killing. The smell of death was pungent and clouded the air in a haze of red and brown, blood and shit misting all around them.

Aethan ducked and weaved his way through the horde of men in front of them, either side of them.

A strike at the enemy knee, a jab through the chest of the kneeling man. Evade the enemy man approaching behind, twist and duck and parry the downward striking sword and push with the shoulder, and as the enemy stumbled, slide forward, his left hand holding the butt of the hilt of his sword, and jab.

Aethan pulled out the sword from the gurgling enemy and moved on.

Slash.

Jab.

Hack, hack, hack.

Heads half-severed and heads lay scattered like overgrown stones and rocks.

Hack.

Jab.

Slash.

Hammer, hammer, hammer.

As he finished hammering with his dulling blade through the helm of the spearman in front of him, in the corner of his eyes he noted one of his men pinned down against two enemies, pushed against, and on the precipice of losing and dying.

One more hammer later, Aethan raced towards his pinned down comrade and as Aethan approached, one of the two enemies noticed him and turned toward him and, as the enemy slashed at him with a horizontal arc, Aethan slowed his approach and jumped back before he quickly moved forward and, with the very tip edge of his blade, caught the neck of the enemy.

The silver-haired enemy fumbled back, eyes wide in terror and Aethan cut short the man's misery by slashing at the man's face, splitting half his head in a macabre fashion.

Aethan quickly parried away the enemy's sword against his comrade – who had fallen into the dirt – and Aethan pulled out his dagger and buried it in the throat of the enemy.

" Go! Fall back to the rearguard!" Aethan shouted to the comrade who was pulling himself up from the dirt though Aethan did not see if he did as ordered, having already selected his next enemies to slay.

By the time his unit arrived at the public square by the watergarden, his armour was beaten as much as his body beaten and tired, his flesh underneath his chainmail bruised and bleeding. They had to fight to win street by street, often times pelted with lead stones and arrows from buildings and elsewhere, greatly reducing the speeds by which they moved.

The entire city seemed to have been made into a trap.

Had it not been for Mīsaragorn burning large swatches of the tops of the buildings, they might have well sustained far greater casualties. Already this was the bloodiest battle they'd all been in.

As they moved further into the city, killing and hacking at all that bore a weapon or stood in their way, the resistance they were facing greatly began to recede though for Aethan, as he parried and struck against the warrior in front of him, he was having the fight of his life presently.

He stepped back as the copper-skinned warrior in front of him, who wore moulded leather armour dyed in purple and blackish red colours, angled his gleaming steel scimitar towards Aethan's throat, Aethan only narrowly escaping Death's call.

The warrior in front of him screamed at him, his dark eyes radiating violence and bloodlust, and his scimitar screamed along the tune of the warrior's song as the man hacked and slashed at Aethan who kept on retreating and retreating, only sometimes parrying away the strikes when the scimitar got too close.

Aethan was tired. His breathing was heavy, his breathing was hard, and he saw the others in their army engaged in combat so knew he would receive no aid in time.

' So be it.' Aethan though as he gritted his teeth and drew more out of himself. The scimitar whistled on the left of his side and on and on went the furious assault of the warrior.

And though Aethan was tiring, he did not let himself fall to the blistering assault of this admittedly skilled warrior, parrying and sidestepping as much as he could, and he couldn't, he let the scimitar strike at parts of his body that were well protected.

Fortunately, an arrow buried itself into the side of his enemy which caused the warrior to stumble a little and that was all that Aethan needed to find a gap and Aethan took it.

His sword buried into the chest of the enemy, wide-eyed and choking on his blood, and as the enemy let go of his scimitar, Aethan pulled out his sword and let the man fall and bleed out onto the blood soaked sands.

Aethan's chest heaved and heaved and heaved, his eyes surveying, scanning all around like some starved cat looking to feed itself on fattened rats, and after he caught his breath, his body growing more stiff and ached and pained as moments passed, Aethan hardened himself and continued.

The battle for Elyria continued for some time longer, his men and the other units continuing to move and move deeper into the city, killing and roaring at anything that moved and finally, at the precipice of the coming of eve, did the fighting abate and finally, when the last lights of the sun came, did they manage to find some peace in which they could rest and nurse their wounds.

When Aethan felt as if he was safe enough, surrounded by men and Unsullied who cleaned their blades and their spears and their armour from blood and gore, did he let sleep consume him, his head dipping as his hands rested on the butt of the hilt as he sat on the edge of the water fountain in the public square.

' Seven-damned fools…' was Aethan's last thought as sleep took him.

When the next day came, Aethan saw for himself the extent of the toll the battle had taken on the men. Many sported injuries, some superficial though many were severe enough that'd take moons or years to heal.

And though Aethan could not tell how many men died, he was almost certain that thousands had died in this battle alone, by the far the greatest death toll they'd suffered throughout the campaign.

' The Elyrians, noble and freedmen alike, all must have mobilised…' Aethan had thought and after he'd found Ser Trytas and Prince Aegon – still in his bloodied and dented armour – they all but confirmed his suspicions about who they'd been fighting.

The next few days, hard though as it was as they rounded up all of the city's inhabitants in the public squares, penned in like overgrown pigs in a crowded pigsty, they did indeed learn that the Elyrians had decided to fight to the death in the name of survival and in the name of their city.

The news of their campaign had hit the Elyrians and though some of the noble families took to leave, the Archons had stopped that from happening and rallied the Elyrians to fight for their homes.

It was an insane choice but a choice, Aethan admitted to himself, he understood.

The civil war that Prince Aegon had seen had been in fact a culling of the majority of the slave population. Most of the males, in fact, had been killed. Given that there was four slaves to a man, at half of the slave population, anywhere between thirty to forty thousand slaves were killed in the culling.

The fires that Prince Aegon had seen were in fact massive pyres burning bodies.

To say the Prince was apoplectic with blinding rage was understating it.

Already, the casualties that suffered, three and a quarter thousand men dead – five hundred Elamaeri, twelve hundred Unsullied and the rest Liberty Bay soldiers – had caused great deals of hostility amongst the men who all lost people they knew.

To then discover that the Elyrians had butchered so many innocent people…

Over the next week, all of the tens of thousands of surviving men, some of whom had surrendered to them, noble and freedmen and even slave soldiers, were rounded up and burnt by dragonflame or hung or was submitted to the axe, decimating all the male population above the age of four and ten.

' They should have surrendered…'

The smells of death reeked through the city…

Aethan had not watched any of the executions, preferring to organise the units over watching more deaths happen.

Elyria, as a slaver city, was no more and would never be that again.

Out of a city of more than a hundred thousand, less than fifty thousand remained, all of them women and children, with the vast majority being former slave women and slave children.

From what he understood, Prince Aegon intended to colonise the isle of Elyria with the peoples of Meereen and the countryside. It would have to be so, in all honesty, in order to survive but it was likely going to be decades before it could be brought back from the annihilation it suffered.

They spent another few days combing through the city, pilfering through manses and all sorts of buildings. Elyria, it had seemed, was a treasure trove when it came to Valyrian treasure.

Though they might have been poor in gold and silver, they were not poor in treasure. Marble statues of Valyrian Gods and 'famous' heroes, paintings and texts and tomes and Valyrian Steel – almost a hundred Valyrian steel daggers and over a dozen of swords and axes and spears – were found throughout the city.

Even the buildings themselves, towering and dominating and of pristine beauty, all of it seeming as if they were carved from single blocks of pristine marble, were treasures in of themselves.

And all of it would come with them, according to Prince Aegon.

In time.

When the Regency Councillors and administrators came to the City – shocked and horrified when they learnt of all that transpired in Elyria – Aethan had been there with the Prince as he'd explained that he wanted a great deal of the buildings disassembled and sent to Astapor for transport to Elamaerys at a much later date.

When the time came, three weeks after they'd taken Elyria, was the fates of the surviving noble families disclosed to them.

Aethan, standing beside Ser Uthrik, Ser Galaenys and Rhaegar, all watched with neutral or uncaring expressions as scores of women were dragged into the manse's, a tall marble building that fashioned as a commanding centre, receiving hall.

On the far side of the receiving hall, were the Regency Councillors alongside some of the guards, all watching on with a sense of trepidation.

Not surprising. They did not know the fates Prince Aegon had decided for these women and their families.

He eyed the women. Hateful but deeply, deeply fearful eyes on branded faces, a rainbow of eyes consisting of violet and blue and blacks and browns, were sent burning towards Prince Aegon who sat back in a throne-like chair.

They were dishevelled, their dresses ripped and some even bore wounds.

They were far from the wealthy and powerful elites they once were.

Aethan glanced at the Prince, who looked on with a cold look that sent shivers down Aethan's spine. There had been many arguments amongst the commanders.

The death toll of their forces cut deeply into them, so accustomed they'd been in sweeping, total victories. This victory in Elyria tasted as bitter as defeat.

Mercy…mercy was not something most of the commanders wanted, especially since the culpability of the women when it came to the deaths of the slaves was difficult to ascertain.

From the accounts of the surviving slaves, those who had worked in their masters' households, the women greatly supported the murders of the slave men.

Whether or not it was true, whether or not the freed slaves were lying in a bid to have all their tormentors killed, no one could reasonably say.

None of them had the appetite to interrogate the freed slaves and so it came to Prince Aegon to decide their fates.

In Astapor and Meereen, the freed slaves had carried out their vengeance against the slave owning families almost totally.

In Yunkai'i, rogue slave soldiers had acted out and butchered women and children in vengeance. Only, truthfully, in Tolos had the slave owning families been spared.

And Tolos had been practically given to them on a platter, allowing them to be magnanimous and merciful.

There was little appetite amongst their men to be merciful.

One of the women, the one the survivors had elected to speak on their behalf, was pushed to the front and put on her knees.

" Prince Aegon." the woman, purple eyed in a heart-shaped face, acknowledged with trace of dying rage in her tone of voice. She must be a true beauty, Aethan mused to himself as he eyed her keenly, underneath all of that grime. ' Very beautiful' he decided. She was lithe of body with hips that were hourglass shaped. Blonde of hair and with rosy full lips that no man would likely wish to part from.

Yes…yes she was a great beauty indeed. In fact many of these women were.

Had it not been known that Prince Aegon hated rapists with great loathing, none of these women would have lasted the night untouched, he'd have thought.

"Have you decided how we are to die?" the woman asked, smattering of whimpers and stilted outcry from the women behind the purple-eyed woman.

They must be regretting choosing this brave and foolish woman as their spokesperson.

"Dragonflame? Or are we to be acquainted with the noose or the axe?"

There was great bitterness in her voice as she'd spoken, the volume of the women behind her rising in terror, in grief, and there was a show of terrified defiance in the woman's eyes. "I suppose it doesn't matter, in the end." The woman said with a shaky voice and the terrified defiance wilted as she seemed to come to a peace at her death, though, as she spoke further, there was desperation in her voice.

"But please…I beg of you…spare our children. Our remaining children. They are innocent." Her voice wavered greatly and her eyes began to turn red at the edges.

"They have done no wr-"

"Zahrea of House Daehoranei." Prince Aegon cut her off with a stern and cold voice, and, as Aethan turned to look at the Prince, he saw that the one-eyed man was staring down at Zahrea with a chilling look, the kind that Aethan thought wolves would show to prey that could run no longer.

"Your guilt has been ascertained. Your crimes, though less severe than your husbands, than your fathers, than your brothers, than your grown sons – whom were found guilty of mass slaughter, slavery, and obscene degrees of cruelty – are still severe enough to warrant execution." Prince Aegon said with a heavy gravitas to his voice and the whimpers and the cries of the women rose.

"Silence." Prince Aegon did not shout though that single word blanketed through the receiving hall, killing their noises like torches put out in a bucket of water.

Prince Aegon continued, staring down at Zahrea. "What is left to do what sentence to place upon your heads…and that your children." Zahrea wilted slightly but she did not break her eye contact.

"Please…Prince Aegon…they are innocent." Zahrea said with desperation and pleaded, her hands falling to the ground.

"So too were the slaves your families murdered." Prince Aegon returned coldly. "Why do your lives matter when you considered theirs to be nothing?"

"They were a threat!" one of the women behind wailed out. " They would have killed us all like they in Meereen!" One of the guards pushed the woman down and ordered the women to be quiet.

Prince Aegon did not react to the woman's outburst, instead looking towards Zahrea who looked panicked and terrified. "We had to…Elyria was our home…home to countless generations…we couldn't let it go!"

"Yes…your men have tried to plead with this reasoning for your defiance." Prince Aegon said coldly. "A defiance that killed thousands of my men."

At this Zahrea couldn't contain herself as she trembled as she spoke. With rage and terror most certainly. "And you killed hundreds of us!" Zahrea cried out. "My father, my brothers, my husband, my eldest son, you killed them all!" Zahrea raged, her tear-stricken eyes looking hatefully at the Prince.

She continued. "We did nothing to you! We did not collude with the Great or Wise or Good Masters against you! We did nothing to you! We deserved nothing of this"

"I doubt that, otherwise Elyria would have sent an envoy to explain your innocence." Prince Aegon said harshly, his one eye narrowing. "Instead of dispatching your fleet to aid the Meereenese like they did moons ago."

"What other choice did we have?" Zahrea exclaimed with an ugly twisting face, a touch of desperation in her voice, desperation that disappeared as rage returned.

"You sought to destroy everything that we know and have. You sought to destroy our very way of life and most likely we would have died in the process if we did nothing." Zahrea shook her head rapidly, her hands clenching, as if she wished to dispel a nightmare and wished to wake up from it.

She continued, the rage gone and instead her voice rang with despair. "What right did you have to do this to us? What right do you have to decide to destroy everything?" Zahrea choked as she spoke further. " Why did my son have to die?"

For a moment, there was nothing but silence.

"' What right did you have to do this to us'…" Prince Aegon repeated, his eye narrowing as he leaned forward, his expression twisting in a cold, hard, unyielding look. "That has likely been the very question on the minds of everyone that lived or passed through this wretched Bay for thousands of years. Why me? Why my family?" Prince Aegon lost the cold, hard unyielding look.

"The same right you, you and your families and your ancestors, had. And, for the likes of your families, the likes of all slavers, that is the only answer you understand." Prince Aegon's voice blade-edged as he'd spoken, cutting and cutting deep

The Prince then grimly smiled at the woman in front of him, before he looked towards the other women. "And it is going to be the same answer you will get if you, or your children, choose to set aside the mercy that I am to grant you."

Prince Aegon leaned back fully into his chair.

"You and your families will be stripped of all noble titles. All worldly possessions will be taken in blood debt save for the clothing on your skin. You and your children will be cast out of Elyria and exiled to the Isle of Velos. Never again shall you and your children be permitted entry into Elyria and you shall live on the Isle of Velos until death takes you."

Prince Aegon waved at the distraught women. "In every city, yours and your children's branded faces will be recognised as slavers. Only in Velos shall you have peace and only on Velos can you and yours live out your natural lives. This is my decree, this is my will. Be thankful that I am merciful. "

Prince Aegon nodded to the guards and the guards began to escort the women out.

Though, one of the women did not leave without adding one more thing to say, and Aethan wasn't sure if the woman was brave or a damn fool. Likely she was unthinking fool of a woman.

" You're no different than us! You're just the same only in different clothing!"

Prince Aegon shook his head, stopping the guard from disciplining her, instead just rough handling her out of the doors.

"You should have killed the insolent ones." Ser Galaenys complained gruffly.

Prince Aegon looked at Ser Galaenys with a raised eyebrow. "Not the silent and controlled ones?"

"Them too." Ser Galaenys said with a sigh. "They're going to be a problem, I can see it a mile away. At least the ones like in Meereen or Yunkai'i are few in numbers, not like this lot."

Prince Aegon stood up and placed his arms behind his back. "Yes…they'll be a problem if they are left unattended. However, with more of the freed slaves moving into Velos, most of them men, we can temper their hatred with time. After all, Velos is a hard place, given that's only served a corsair base and a graveyard. They will need to bargain if they want their children and themselves to live."

Aethan grimaced. He was understanding what Prince Aegon was saying. The women would have to lose their entitlement and their pride and most likely have to settle with the former slave men if they wanted any kind of life of comfort.

"Besides" Prince Aegon said as he turned to meet Ser Galaenys' eyes. "I think we've seen and caused enough death, justified as it might be, to last us several generations. Pointlessly killing thousands of women and children is an evil that only puts us comparable with that of slavers."

' Pointlessly…' Aethan caught the word and the meaning behind it.

"Fine, fine." Ser Galaenys groused and Aethan could tell that the man did agree somewhat with Prince Aegon.

The men were all weary of the killing. Even the most battle crazed. Though the campaign has only lasted just over half a year, it felt like it's been years.

Probably because they've caused more deaths in the span of moons that seemed even incomparable to the death toll during Conqueror's conquest.

"I suppose it is fitting…for these prissy women to be relegated as nothing better farmers." Ser Galaenys said with a scoff.

"There's nothing with being a farmer." Ser Uthrik said exasperatedly. "Most of our men will be farmers when we go home." Ser Uthrik said as he waved at the guards who nodded solemnly and sent a glare at Ser Galaenys who snorted.

"Aye, aye, yes, thanks for reminding me that I'm surrounded by those lot." Ser Galaenys said with a smirk at the guards who pretended to be offended.

They remained to discuss a few more points, however, by the time eve came, he remained behind with Ser Uthrik to stay with Prince Aegon who took to stare out of the manse towards the sea on the balcony.

The manse was one of the more taller ones, one that was largely unscathed from dragonfire.

"In that direction" Prince Aegon said as he pointed towards the distance. "Lays Old Valyria. Our ancestral homeland." Prince Aegon paused for a moment as he took on a considering look. "I've been trying to see if I can see anything, anything, beyond the horizon."

"Perhaps it could be seen on a clear day?" Aethan pondered as he also took to look at the horizon. Truthfully, it was the first time that he contemplated Old Valyria in a long time. It didn't even register that they were so close to their…ancestral homeland.

Ancestral homeland…

House Celtigar had owned Claw Isle for centuries before the Doom and often second sons and nephews and cousins were sent to Claw Isle by the Heads of family throughout those centuries.

It was his family that helped keep Old Valyria informed about Westeros and about Braavos. House Celtigar, after all, were a noble Valyrian family that could trace their lineage back to the fleet admirals during the Spice Wars.

When Aenar took his senior branch of the family to Dragonstone, House Celtigar had already been well established in Westeros and in the Narrow Sea unlike Aethan's family who were descended from the most senior cadet branch of House Celtigar when the Doom had happened.

Claw Isle, for all intents and purposes was more of a homeland than Old Valyria truthfully was. House Velaryon was a similar case as well.

Old Valyria may be their ancestral homeland but so too was Claw Isle.

So too, in time, would Dragonstone and Kings Landing be for the last Dragonlords.

And, he supposed as he eyed Prince Aegon, so too would Elamaerys be the homeland for their branches of their Houses…and perhaps…perhaps it would also become a new homeland for many Valyrians…

"Perhaps." Prince Aegon said with a small smile as he glanced at Aethan from the corner of his eyes. He turned back to look at the horizon…towards Old Valyria.

"I'd be the first of our family to gaze upon it since Aerea Targaryen flew there on the back of Balerion."

Aethan studied Prince Aegon's face which had a deep contemplative look plastered on it. And Aethan worried. He wasn't the only one.

"My Prince…" Ser Uthrik said with a heavy frown.

"Have no worries." Prince Aegon said with faint smile. "I have no plans to go on a suicidal venture into Old Valyria. Gael would kill me if I ever even contemplated it." The Prince said with a small smile and it eased Aethan's and Uthrik's concerns.

"No…" Prince Aegon said with an exhale of a breath. "Old Valyria is the past. Our past and the past has no other place but be put to rest. Like what we're doing now in this Bay, putting to rest the worst of Valyria's remaining legacy." Aethan noted the introspective and solemn tone of voice.

And as Aethan thought about those words, he wondered if Prince Aegon was trying to convince himself. Retribution and liberation, both were won with the blood of tens and tens of thousands. ' Was it worth it…?' Aethan found it strange that he wasn't sure if it had been worth it despite all that they won. Glory and wealth.

They spent quite some time just simply staring out at the horizon, even as Ser Uthrik left, and neither of them talked. Only after eve came, did that companionable silence break.

"It's time to retire now, I think." Prince Aegon said as he turned around. "It's been a long day and we have another long day ahead of us."

Yes…They'd send out their men and the spoils back to Astapor tomorrow. There'd be several trips of this considering the size of their army. It also didn't help that they were taking thousand of former slave orphans with them.

He did not envy the tall task in the hands of the Regency Councillors. Many, many people would have to be imported into Elyria.

"But at least the days we have coming will no longer have us need to be the worst versions of ourselves. That…that is the most fortuitous out of all of this." Prince Aegon quietly remarked as he walked away, his arms behind his back, leaving Aethan behind.

Aethan watched Prince Aegon leave and he remained on that balcony for some time yet.

He broke out of his daze and turned to look at the horizon…towards their ancestral homeland. He stared at the horizon for a long time before he moved to leave and, he realised, he'd come to a decision…

That it was time for him to go home now. Home to his wife. Home to his children.

Home.

-Break-

Early 113 AC – Elamaerys

Gael POV

Half awareness came with a dry groan escaping from the back of her throat.

She tried to drown herself back into blissful dreams but it worked not and another groan, a groan bearing silent curses, escaped her before she resigned herself that the day had started for her.

She turned herself in her bed, resting the back of her head against the sweet soft pillow, and her bleary eyes worked hard to blinker sleep-sand and tiredness away, aided by a lethargic swipe, more a scrape, of a tepidly warm hand across face.

The hazy sight of her candlelit ceiling, boasting of shadows and light dancing a familiar eternal battle came more clear as the cobwebs of sleep were dusted away.

She turned her head towards the other side of the bed – a large bed fit for three – an instinctive move, and an familiar sigh escaped her lips at the large absence beside.

Her hand moved there, grasping at the linen cloth of the mattress that sheltered feather and hay from bare skin, confirming with all of her senses that the absence was real and true, a strange ritual that now became as well practiced as prayer on sacred days.

A moment passed before she heaved herself from abed, before fretful worry could set within her, not unlike scaffolding rising about a face of stone mount set to be harvested, her nightgown flowed across her skin as she stood up, her course headed towards the wall stand above the desk where the candles were set upon.

The soft flames of the candle flickered as she approached, and the light of her chambers dimmed as she picked the candle and angled the flame to set alight the wicker of the other two candles nearby.

' I will have to send Barba to bring out more candles from storage' she thought to herself as she eyed the dwindling candles.

Her room was not exposed to the natural lights of the world. None of the rooms were. They were deep within the bowels of the walled manse, not unlike their old home in Corinth, though this manse was significantly smaller in comparison.

Fortunately, there was some natural light that filtered through the manse but that was far and few and only truly around the entrance that led to the makeshift dragonstables.

Her eyes went towards the top of her desk, stacks of parchment and 'paper' almost blanketed out the surface of the redwood desk and she grimaced lightly at the sight of the mess. She'd worked until late last night, going through the reports of her deputies and councillors regarding the state of the colony.

With how soon the galleons were to arrive at Astapor, it was necessary that she ensured that all of the necessities and luxuries were addressed by the fleet before anything else was loaded to be shipped to Elamaerys.

"But first…I need to get ready and dressed." She muttered to herself. ' And see to the children.' She thought silently as she walked towards the pot of clean water and towel that both sat atop a small dais.

She cleaned her face and body with the wetted towel before she cleaned her teeth with the small flayed stick-end dipped in paste of mint and a pinch of brandy.

She would have to draw herself a proper bath come the eve, she thought as she smelled herself a little. It's been already two days since she had a proper bath.

She used the lidded chamber pot and closed it off before she walked towards her closet and brought out her clothing.

A pair of white double linen hose to protect her skin, a thick modest dark brown coloured breeches and a dark red thick gown with a long split skirt for ease of mobility during the long day was selected.

With the lack of roads, long journeys ahorse, to wear dresses all day was not practical nor was it something she wished to endure.

It took her a while to get dressed without the aid of Calla – her handmaiden since Dragonstone – but she was used it now, given how oft she woke before dawn came – the time her handmaiden entered – a consequence of the day shortening thanks to the approach of winter.

She left their chambers with a candlestand in hand. Her house-guards on duty, Ser Maroquo and Ser Garibald, dipped her heads to her, a morning greeting on their lips, and she smiled gracefully at them.

These men were two of thirty house-guards that remained within and just outside the manse at all times.

Though she and their family were well beloved by their people, she felt more comfortable knowing that good leal men like Ser Maroquo and Ser Garibald protected their young family.

She peeked through the door that led into the room of Rhaena and Breannei and she saw the two girls sharing Rhaena's bed as they were oft to do with Rex, the grey-haired hound peaking up her head in curiosity before the hound relaxed again.

The two girls were inseparable, she thought, a small smile tugging at her lips, and she closed the door softly before she went to look into the rooms of Solonys, Valarr and her twins, all finding them yet still asleep.

She left and returned to her room and desk, starting her day of work.

Her position, Regent of Elamaerys, ruler in Aegon's name until his return, marked her responsible for the entirety of the colony.

Gael held all civil and martial powers and held supreme executive authority over the council Aegon left behind to aid Gael.

That meant all disputes that could not be settled by the appointed arbitrators – who know they are being assessed for fitness and whose performance would matter when the time came to fill the positions in the judicial courts – would come to her and her council.

More severe criminal activities was judged upon by her and a panel of scholars who knew the body of Civil Law, a codification of laws and moral laws attuned to positive Westerosi and Valyrian cultural practices, like the back of their hand.

There had been some such instances, four accounts of rape and one murder, and she and the rest of the panel had sentenced the two men responsible to death.

Since then, only minor disputes had occurred and none had been worthy to be escalated to her attention beyond a written report of the arbitration proceedings.

When it came to the development of the colony, she had the final say on such matters, such as diverting manpower from one area to another, or for example, deviation from the city and building plans should a problem be encountered.

There had been several such instances where she had to intervene on the plans her husband championed. One of them was the instance of diverting manpower from the quarries to the farmlands, reducing slightly the rates in which homes were being built.

Though they were comfortable when it came to food supply from their surroundings – the voracious hunting of local wildlife had helped in that regard – she always was more inclined to agree to the allocation of more men to increasing farmlands when Bodrin, the Master of Agriculture, requested for more men.

However, now with almost a half of the boys from the twenty thousand children they took in between 110 AC and 111 AC being on the cusp of manhood and fit to work, all of them aged around four to two and ten namedays when they'd arrived, it would no longer necessitate constant redirection of labour.

Over eight thousand of these children sheltered with the five hundred and five and thirty farming families – many of whom already took in adopted children years ago – and the boys that sheltered with these families had taken to the farm life well. Very well.

From the sounds of it, many of these boys wished to own their own farms – many of whom are married or betrothed to daughters or nieces of the patriarchs of the farm owners – so she did not doubt that many of these boys would happily take up land clearing assignments, an exhaustive and hard assignment, for the reward of land in a few years' time.

For the next while, she scoured over the reports her council and her financial aides gave her. Payrolls, the state of granaries and stockpiles of foodstuffs, the status on the essential tools and working animals and the status of the second phase of constructions were among the reports she had.

Though such things did not change from day to day, she often perused them on a daily basis to take notes of how much the reports differed from reports of the weeks and moons prior, even going as far to visit the sites, as she would today.

She had entire log of usages of all the items that was essential – and a luxury – in Elamaerys that she filled in every week, making it easier to note sharp declines and irregularities.

She'd found out this way minor thefts and minor instances of fraud, and the sentencing and fining of the perpetrators, though minor the crimes were, helped limit the attractiveness to steal items that others and the colony may need.

As she went over the list of needs, her door was knocked upon. "You may come in." Gael said and the door to her and her husband's chamber opened.

Calla, a blonde-haired woman of five and thirty, wide of hips though as lithe as a newborn lamb, walked into her chambers with new bedding and an empty chamber pot. She curtsied "Good morn, Princess."

Gael smiled at the servant. "Good morn Calla."

"The cooks say the meals ought to be finished shortly, my Princess. Jeyne and Lyra are waking up the Princes and Princesses as we speak." Calla answered dutifully.

Gael decided there and then that she'd pause in her work and she moved to collect her youngest children herself. Rex followed their family along before it raced towards the dining hall where they arrived too moments later.

Daemera and the Celtigar children were already there and the sleepiness of her two girls evaporated at the sight of Vaera and Valaena, the other halves of the troublesome four, and her daughters moved quickly to seat themselves by the other girls, conversation picking up from where they left it yesterday it seemed.

Rex collapsed down to her belly by her empty bowl, her nose sitting at the tip and her tail wagging impatiently.

Solonys stuck by her side as Daemera bade her morning greetings, one that she returned ably to the noble Lady before she sat down beside the aforementioned woman, and Solonys seated himself beside her though he listened silently at the chattering of the four girls.

Young Alton, just a baby yet of only three namedays, seemed more interested in his two figurines that he played with atop the dining table.

"Did you sleep much?" Lady Daemera asked, her eyes inquisitive.

"Enough I think." Gael answered with a little smile.

Years long now, they knew one another but they only truly gotten much closer as friends since they moved to Elamaerys. Proximity, or necessity, she mused, made the two noble women as close as women could get.

And truthfully, she was glad for it.

Though the scholars tutored her children in their numbers, their letters and would soon begin their lessons in history and philosophy, it has to be said that the presence of a noble lady well educated in etiquette and courtly behaviour was far more for the better.

With Gael so busy with the running of the colony, there was not much time to teach her daughters as much as she would love to. Her sons too were getting some lessons in etiquette from Daemera as well.

Aegon did well in teaching the boys in manners of intrigue and politics but Lady Daemera, with her experiences in Duskendale, Claw Isle and Kings Landing, was an able source of Westerosi noble etiquette so she'd pushed her sons to at least learn some of it for their own benefit.

Beyond all of that though, Gael really enjoyed having another noble lady around so much. Though her own experiences differed from that of Daemera, sheltered as Gael had been for so long, Daemera was the closest of all the people she knew that would understand her the most, even if that most wasn't quite enough.

"Hmm." Lady Daemera showed a face that did not look convinced. It was a justified look, Gael thought. She did spent quite some time in her work after she retired for the eve, a practice that Daemera knew she did all too far.

Part of it was for concern but a large part was her own unease regarding how much involvement Gael had when it came to the running of Elamaerys.

Though the woman had grown use to their different ways of conduct and authority, Daemera still harboured some sense of scepticism at how much Gael should be involved in all matters of Elamaerys.

They had some amount of small talk between themselves, which continued even after her eldest sons had joined them to break their morning fast, but that all ceased when the servants brought out the meals for them – and the Wolfbear meat for Rex.

Porridges, spiced green pea and carrot soups, hard boiled chicken eggs and Wolfbear bacon was brought out.

She had to fight a little to get Solonys to eat up his soup, like always, but the reminder that his access to his dragon Stormfyre was contingent on him behaving forced him, with a twisted face of dislike and a hint of disgust, to finish up his soup to the last drop.

It wasn't the best of soups though it was much better than the ones that they had to suffer through at the beginning where there had been only a few variety of crops.

Corinth had been like that too, at the beginning, though they were largely able to supplement their diets through trading with their Summer Islander neighbours.

They did not have that luxury here, even if their spices and their herbs were frequently used to deepen the palette in an otherwise bland but stomach filling cuisine.

Now though, she thought as she enjoyed the subtle hints of mint in her pea soup, the farms were producing more and more varieties of crops and it wouldn't be long before the plantations for spices and fruits and all other kinds of exotic foodstuffs that'd grow in this climate well were up and running.

She remembered what Aegon told her about Elamaerys, or rather about the lands that were fortunate enough to be this far south and lucky enough to have tall mountains that soaked the earth with captured rainwater and ice from its peaks.

Elamaerys' place in the world meant that winters were not going to be very harsh on the land or the people. Mild winters and very warm summers, Aegon had said, though from the sounds of it from the first settlers, summer may well be milder than that of the Summer Isles too given how frequently it had rained.

Soon enough it was time for the day to begin after they finished their meals. Her youngest and the Celtigar children were taken away by the scholars Belis and Duram, two men who tutored her children their letters and numbers.

Later in the day, her daughters and the Celtigar girls would undergo lessons with Daemera. Presently, Daemera was teaching the girls needlework and the beginnings of the embroidery arts.

Breannei disliked these lessons the most, which, given her personality, was to be expected. Gael did not remember Alyssa very well; she only knew of her sister through the stories her mother shared with her and sometimes…

Sometimes she wondered if Breannei had inherited the spirit of Alyssa.

She bade her eldest sons goodbye as their dragons climbed and soared away towards the quarries. She watched the three young dragons, Stormfyre, Tyria and Lysia being fed some of the Wolfbear caught yesterday by the dragonkeepers.

They were growing fast now, she thought to herself. They were the size of a horse now and it wouldn't be long before the walled manse, crowded as it was already, would be insufficient for seven dragons.

It was fortunate that her sons had such control over their dragons and that Syrax was a mild mannered dragon whose presence helped temper the…behaviours of the young dragons.

She spent a little bit of time with Liāzmariña whilst she waited for Edwyn and Ser Cedrick to arrive, and when they did arrive, she departed ahorse not long after from her manse with a host of men towards the districts.

To get to the districts from their manse, one had to journey through the large town of cabins, which some had taken to call Redtown thanks to it all being built in redwood.

She greeted the townsfolk as they rode through the busied and alive town, strong traces of the familiar Corinthian atmosphere showing itself more every day as she gazed upon new potteries, cloths and furs, jewelleries and pots of spiced meats.

Just over seven thousand families, comprising more than five and thirty thousand people – including ten thousand new foster-children – lived in these six thousand cabin homes.

The vast majority of the townsfolk were women and children; some five thousand children below the age of three and ten namedays and almost twenty thousand women with a good sixth of the women no more than girls still in their girlhood.

Fortunately, only in the eve did so many cohabit the town. The men and boys, comprising of hunters, land-clearers, miners, builders and knights, left at the break of dawn for their duties, emptying Redtown of eight thousand people within hours.

Still, it did not detract from the fact that it was a crowded place. People lived on top of each other despite the vastness of empty land that surrounded them. Yet, for all of that, all she saw every day and eve was happy and at-peace faces.

Tired yes. Worn, of course. But generally speaking?

Her people were not defeated by the hardship they were under.

Of course, the general youth of their people – more than sixty percent were less than five and twenty namedays old – helped keep spirits up as they all knew, with their bellies full at dawn and at eve, it was only a matter of time before Elamaerys was a jewel to behold. Every day they saw the fruits of their labour.

Every day the number of people in Redtown decreased.

These days, twenty to thirty homes were built every day in the Gierūli, Mēīlmōrīs and Lōgomazda districts, and every day twenty to forty families – often small close families chose to cohabit for a time – left Redtown and settled in the districts.

Not only that, every week, a few families would move into their farmlands.

Right now there was hundred and seven thousand acres of farmland which was expected to rise to hundred and sixty seven thousand acres by the year's end.

And that number was considered to be on the lower end as generous farming families lent some labour to the duties of clearing land and building farmhouses.

Yes, she thought to herself, every day her people saw the fruits of their labour. It was slow, it was hard, but nothing worthwhile came easy.

She spent much of the morn in the districts where thousands men and boys worked to build new homes, paved roads, dug up extensions to the main spine of the sewage system and worked on the buildings of the constabulary, hospitals and bathhouses.

Amongst those buildings, there were five thousand homes built in the districts, three thousand alone in the past year, housing in total just over seven and ten thousand – including two thousand new foster-children.

At the rate that they were building – in the past moon on average five and thirty homes a day – by the end of 113 AC, they expected that they'd built around eight to ten thousand homes.

Perhaps more given remaining work on the sewage system was ahead of plan even if it came at the cost of some other building works such as the constabulary.

Another change she pushed through.

The sewage system was a large drain on resources.

Throughout most of the time the spine of the sewage system – one of three spines planned over the next ten years – was being built, a spine four leagues long, three thousand men were allocated to digging a three yards deep and three yards wide channel and another thousand men had been laying down wetstone – filled with stone debris and leftovers – along the walls and bottom of the channels.

Sometimes, work had to be redone due to faulty lined channel sections, or sometimes there had been re-routings required due to the soil and inclination of the land, and all of that had had taken away time and men to build houses.

Fortunately though, now that the main spine was complete, a spine that started from the bank of the river upstream and ran down adjacent to the river downslope, the bulk of the men were working on building houses.

Five thousand of the eight thousand of the men and boys, to be exact, were largely focused on homes with the remaining three thousand working on extending the roads from Elamaerys City to the farmlands or digging more channels that would led into the spine, the extensions being akin to veins to the spine of a broadleaf.

Much of the delay now in the increasing of housing build rates was the availability of stone, something her eldest sons and the three thousand miners were working hard to alleviate.

Fortunately, it was working as more and more stone was carried downstream and unloaded onto the banks of the city. With more boats being built as well – thirty more boats and another forty planned in the next three moons – using wood from the vacated cabins, that was only expected to increase over the next three moons.

There was good reason to believe that everyone would be moving into the planned six districts by the year's end although that would likely come at the cost of building the several bathhouses and the foundation laying of the Hall of Heroes.

It was a sacrifice she thought was best and Aegon conceded the point that it was more important that their people moved in properly into the city ground.

Besides, she was rather sure that he was more than happy to concede those points as long as the sewage system was on target. It was almost comical how much Kings Landing left an indelible mark on him.

She understood, of course. Elamaerys City was meant to be the crown jewel of their life's work. A city that would be built in the likeness of Valyria and the Free Cities. Wide streeted and with beautiful buildings that'd be the envy of the Known World.

Even the stone homes that were now erected were not expected to remain come the end of their lives. She'd seen the city plans that Aegon had conjured up with Sorros and his deputies. These homes were only a stopgap in Aegon's mind.

She spent a little time at one of the schools that housed the majority of the scholars and their equipment, at least until one the Scholarly buildings was complete.

Three were three such schools in the districts, enough to teach the more than two thousand children under the age of three and ten.

They were hastily assembled schools, about thrice or four times the size of a standard district home, but for now, they served their purpose of giving children a place to be whilst their mothers and fathers worked during the day.

In Redtown, there were at least six times that number of 'schools' although, in reality, those schools were largely taught in homes and storage cabins by apprenticing scholars and old Dragonstone men who knew their letters.

With how much the colony depended on the labour of women – preparing foodstuffs and running kitchens, repair work and production of clothing and leather wears and so on – and with how many of the colony were children, it was necessary to occupy the minds and bodies of the children.

Before she left to depart for the farmlands, she discussed a few points with the scholars though particularly she was interested in how they were faring with the identification of sites that might boast metal ores, particularly iron ore, as the last time she asked was more than a moon ago.

There has been startlingly few indications of where they might find iron ore north of Greater Elamaerys, so much so that when the galleon fleet returns, she'd withhold two of the galleon ships and task the scholars and cartographers to scour Draconys, Bazmionys and the Biareysian Islands for any signs of metal ore.

She doubted, of course, that northern Elamaerys did not hold any iron but it may well it'd be difficult to take out of the ground or from the mountains.

The scholars told her that they'd sent a scouting party to search a hilly area four leagues east across the river from the city ground where they thought could hold 'considerable' iron ore.

She hoped so, otherwise a great deal of the cargo that'd come from Liberty Bay would be steel and iron tools along with a substantial amount of steel and copper ingots.

For the next few hours, she visited a number of farms where she spoke with the administrators tasked to oversee the land preparation of more farmland, confirming and gaining more information of what needs and wants the people might have that could be addressed when the galleon fleet arrived in Astapor.

The conversation had been brief, the journey being the most time consuming part of it all, and the administrators reiterated again that the farms could do well with more farm animals being brought over to Elamaerys, perhaps a few thousand more.

It wasn't necessary, not that amount, as their livestock of pigs, chickens, ducks, cows and sheep was a healthy level, but at moment, that was only really because of the hunters who were bringing a great deal of meat every few days from the interior of Elamaerys.

If they were to pick the native animals clean, then they'd likely eat more livestock than they were producing, especially the pigs and the sheep.

Of course, the need for more livestock was on the list of inventory she'd given Admiral Bryce, something the administrators knew very well. Although, she mused, they were concerned that the fleet might skimp on getting the numbers they desired because of lack of space.

After all, the galleons would bring back a great wealth from Liberty Bay, something that was not a secret at all amongst the Elamaeri.

After assuaging their fears, she continued on her day back at Redtown and then later back to her manse where she spent a few hours with her youngest children before she went back to her reports.

After dining with her family, and after all had retired for the day, did she go back to her room and went under the frame of her bed and unlocked the lock of the miniature cellar.

She brought out a leaden box, a heavy, heavy thing – and always when she was lifting the thing bemoaned her husband's paranoia regarding the glass candles – and set the box on the table.

But then again, she thought darkly as she stared at the leaden box, there was good reason for it. Her expression cycled through a number of emotions.

Magic had almost taken her husband from her. That week…

That week had been one of the worst of her life, when she'd stared at the glass candles for hours and hours only to never see it come alight.

Every day she grew more worried. Every morning she woke up panicked and fearing. And when Aegon finally did call her, her heart, already stitched up in haphazard ways following a week of torment, had almost broken at what Aegon told her…that he almost died.

She knew that Aegon always had the air of death around him. Every man at war had it. But she never feared that Aegon would fall in battle.

Aegon promised her that he'd return to her and she never doubted that. But she began to doubt when she listened with terrible ache about how he almost died. About how he was wounded and lost his eye thanks some kind of 'spiritual demon'. Whatever that meant.

She had not cared to pry and she still did not care to understand what he meant by it. No…she only wanted him never to do this to her again. Her husband was scarred and lost his mother's eye and she was unwilling to have him put himself in such a position that he'd lose anything more. She'd demanded it off him.

Aegon admitted that he'd chewed off more than he could take, and that curiosity of his that she'd always so admired and loved suddenly turned into poison vinegar.

I promise Gael, Aegon said, I promise I will never be so careless again…

She didn't like that she had a morsel of scepticism about that statement. She'd heard the regret in his voice, but she'd also heard the wonder in his voice when he'd talked about what happened… before that demon struck at her husband…

She waited for a time though she had needed to wait for too long as a dim light grew around the edges of the glass candle.

She felt a deep relief pass through her even if the last time Aegon called was when they'd taken Elyria. Her relief passing through her felt stronger when she heard his voice. "…Gael?" There was a faint longing in his voice, a longing that she couldn't help compare to the shuddering shake of his voice she'd heard that night.

Even now, she could recollect it so well still.

It reminded her of the shudder she'd heard in her father's voice in his last weeks.

Father recognised her in a single rare moment of clarity, an awful despairing look on his fearful face. ' Gael…' he'd said in a shuddering croak of a voice though only moments later he'd lost himself to his delusion once more, calling her Saera, calling on her to forgive Jaehaerys for his stubbornness and his failings.

Often times he'd called for Saera…called Gael Saera. Her father's greatest regret, it seemed. And Aegon that night, that night when he finally called and pulled together her breaking heart, she'd heard that same longing regret.

Even now, many calls later since that eventual night, he still had traces of that longing in his voice, as if all he wanted was to jump through the glass candle and hold her in his arms.

"I'm here, Aegon." Her voice did not waver, but it held an undoubtedly relieved note within. It was hard to keep the sadness and longing at bay. It would still be at least a year until Aegon returned.

Another year where Aegon would remain at war and was plotted against with knives in the dark aiming at his back. Another year of suffering.

"How are you? How are our children?"

She wished she'd had the selfishness to tell him to return, that the remaining campaigns against the Myrish or the Dothraki weren't worth it, that he'd done enough, that their men can hold out without him.

"I'm well. We're well." There was a pleased hum in his voice after she spoke.

Aegon rarely pressed to learn the details of how well their children were. What they were doing. She often told him anyway and she could hear him virtually soaking in her words like a sponge. It was odd but she could tell it was more than likely because he felt guilty for not being present to know all of it himself.

"How are you?" She asked him as calmly as she could, left fingers peeling at the edges of her nails on her other fingers.

"I am well. Without injuries. Elyria has firmly fallen into our hands. The campaign in Liberty Bay is now completely over." Aegon said, a heavy sigh following his words. It was the kind sigh one made after resting after a long and hard journey.

Though Aegon never told her the details, she could understand very well that what he and the men were committing were great and terrible deeds of violence the likes that has not been seen for centuries, not since the Century of Blood where cities and entire Kingdoms were felled all across Essos west of the Bone Mountains.

She heard it, this dark heaviness, in his voice every time he'd called the day after the takings of Astapor, of Yunkai, of Meereen, of Elyria. The cold and emotionless ways he described the successful taking of the cities.

Only after Tolos had fallen had Aegon seemed more…normal.

It brought a strange kind of distress in her. The way he seemed so closed off. Even at his most imperious, he never showed a side like this to her. It only confirmed to her that he was greatly affected by what was happening. What had happened.

If she thought that he'd open up to her, she might have brought it up, but she knew her husband too well, that he wouldn't do so until he was ready for it.

So, for now, she would set it aside.

"When do you leave for Lys?" she asked as she stopped peeling at her nails.

"Forty days from now on dragonback. The men will rest in Astapor for a week at the most before they'll set sail for Lys and then for the Disputed Lands. I will join them in Lys." Aegon told her.

"You should be taking more than the four thousand men, Aegon." Gael said unhappily. Aegon was leaving the vast bulk of the men in Astapor along, even sending back about a thousand of their men to Elamaerys.

"I can't, not with the Dothraki, New Ghis and potentially Volantis nearby and watching closely. I cannot leave the cities undefended otherwise what would have been the point?" Aegon said and she could tell that there was more to his words. ' What was the point of all of this killing if was all lost…'

"Besides" Aegon continued "Speed is the key. With my four thousand horsemen, supported by Johanna's two thousand men, I can cover more ground and take the estates of the slavers more quickly."

' And you would be finally able to make Myr suffer for putting you, us, in this position' Gael thought to herself.

"Is there even much to take with all that is going on?" Gael wondered. To say southern Essos was in chaos would be putting it lightly.

"For now, yes. Johanna has been keeping a close eye, naturally, on Tyrosh, Myr, Volantis and the Disputed Lands. For now, the Disputed Lands are yet to feel the full effect of the Tyroshi instability. Myr, with aid of its sellswords, has taken de facto control over the region with full support from the slavers in the region."

"Full support?" Gael asked sceptically "You mean coerced into compliance."

This caused Aegon to carry hints of lightness in his voice as he spoke. "Quite likely, yes. Still, there is some reason to think that the Lysene and Tyroshi noble families in those holdings are keen enough to support Myr given that Lys is no longer welcoming to their likes and Tyrosh may well go that way too, if Westerosi and Johanna's interferences pay off."

That was true, she supposed.

"Has Seleyse confirmed when the Royal fleet is to set sail?" Gael asked. She'd been shocked to hear that Viserys was willing to interfere in Free Cities' affairs.

Seleyse was their sole link back to Kings Landing, a link that she wasn't all that enthused about, given her… profession. Even after being freed, Seleyse and a number of other women preferred the pillow house over another more…honest means to secure a living and Gael couldn't help but judge Seleyse for it.

Still, Gael was at least heartened that the woman did what she could for the women in Kings Landing and elsewhere in the Realm, those who found themselves in that profession, forcibly or in desperation.

Even now, according to Aegon, Seleyse helped many of these women find other means of securing a living, even going as far as creating a list of women and families that she was requesting Aegon take to Elamaerys.

On top of that, the only thing Aegon requested of Seleyse was to help sponsor young boys and send them to the Citadel for training with the long view of getting them into Elamaerys with their families and the enticement that their oaths in Elamaerys would not necessitate having to give up a family.

In any case, Seleyse was an important part of their ways to keep abreast with the matters of Westeros. With coin supplied by Aegon through the Iron Bank, Seleyse kept a wide and far reaching spy network that made sure that they were kept well informed unlike half a decade before.

"Seleyse warns me that the fleet will be setting sail in the next few days." Aegon told her and there was a solemn note in his voice.

"You might get to see Daemon again." Gael said and there wasn't much joy in her voice. They don't fully know what Viserys is thinking, even with the little information they usually get from the Red Keep thanks to Seleyse, but they do know that Viserys could not be happy with Aegon's actions.

Seleyse had informed them that Lord Celtigar and Vaemond Velaryon had been sent, effectively, to speak with Aegon. Or, as Aegon believed, sent to deliver a demand to Aegon to return and to answer to Viserys.

"You don't have to sound so happy about that, dear wife." Aegon said with lightness in his voice.

The corners of Gael's mouth sharpened slightly as she rolled her eyes before she frowned worriedly at the glass candle. "What will you do?" She knew that Aegon said he'd hear out what Viserys wanted.

Part of it was that Aegon wanted to 'settle' the relationship their branch of House Targaryen had with Westeros, with the Iron Throne.

They were not unaware there was… difficulties in their situation.

An unprecedented situation.

They were incredibly fortunate that Viserys was King and not her father.

Or worse, Daemon.

Aegon had a plan, one filled with manipulation and scheming, nothing she liked but had to accept, where he'd use Viserys' disinheriting of Aegon and Aegon's unwillingness to let himself, or everyone after Aegon, be crowned king.

Viserys would not be willing, or able even, to reinstate Aegon in the line of succession. Because, with Aegon's reinstatement to the line of succession, Rhaenyra should not be heir in accordance to the rules of the realm and the precedent set by her father and the advice offered in the Great Council.

Viserys would not endanger nor would he weaken Rhaenyra's position. Aegon would push it to be a condition for Elamaerys to fall into another realm under the Iron Throne, which Viserys would never agree to.

It was a risky gambit but she also knew that Aegon would manipulate Viserys into thinking all of it through.

Because even on the very slim possibility that Viserys would reinstate Aegon, Aegon would immediately accede to the laws of the Realm, and champion their nephews by Alicent Hightower to be ahead of Aegon in the line of succession.

She hated this part of the plan the most. It might be needed in order to safeguard Elamaerys and the inheritance of her children but…it felt wrong.

Still, it wasn't enough to make her balk although she still wished that Viserys would accept their independence with the proposal that only Viserys and his line would provide Kings of House Targaryen.

If Viserys was stubborn in every way, they would give up and simply declare their own independence. It would be risky, and dangerous, but ultimately there would be realistically very little Viserys and that side of their family could do.

Elamaerys was simply too far.

There was realistically nothing stopping them doing this now but Aegon had said that he owed her father an attempt to try and break off – though not completely – amicably with Westeros and that side of their family.

"With the envoys? No changes." Aegon said. "But Daemon?" Aegon sighed and was several moments later that he continued.

"I…I don't know." Aegon admitted. "You know very well that my relationship with Daemon was never the best."

Gael snorted. "An understatement." She said wryly and she felt a morsel of worry grow within her. Would Daemon really go as far as…

No. Daemon wouldn't do anything that severe. But…she did think he'd try and force Aegon.

"And I can't trust Daemon not to escalate things to a point where the worst possible outcome would be earned. Regardless of…"

"Aegon." Gael interjected firmly, her hands clenching.

"Aegon…I don't want you go there. You know Daemon well enough. You know his taunts and you know how he would provoke you. If you do meet him in the Disputed Lands, promise me you will not let your pride or anything else get in the way of you getting back to me. To our children."

There was a few moments of silence.

"You've grown commanding, wife. Leading seems to suit you." Aegon said and there was deep fondness in his voice.

She smiled slightly though she lost it as she called out his name. "Aegon…"

"I promise." There was still fondness in his voice. And some resignation. "Gods, I did not expect things to go this far off of my projections of what may happen."

"Blame Johanna." Gael said with a weary smile.

Aegon chuckled lightly. "Yes…yes, I do. And myself a little too." Aegon sighed.

"Mayhaps I should have handled her a little differently." Aegon admitted.

"She might not have gone to the extent she has to protect herself and Lys independently from me and my army if I didn't speak out so plainly."

Gael hummed silently.

Johanna and her people had taken their own initiative and caused the situation to turn away from her husband's predictions of the wars, the political landscape and the actions of the Free Cities.

Aegon had spent years researching, spying, and assessing, only for it all to be thrown out of the window thanks to Johanna's proactiveness.

Aegon had not expected Johanna to own up to the 'bombing', proudly declaring it her doing to everyone and their mothers. Not only that, she was actively involved in sowing discord amidst the political chasm that formed thanks to the 'bombing'.

And she was being successful at it.

So much so that Tyrosh had fallen into great disarray with untold number of factions uniting and betraying and forming in the space only moons.

They also did not expect that Myr would move to intervene in Tyroshi affairs despite the threat Aegon presented to them.

Aegon believed that the allure of taking Tyrosh and absorbing it into Myr was a temptation too alluring to let go. After all, they wouldn't need Tyrosh to be a partner when they could instead be a powerful vassal.

Neither did they expect Viserys to actually agree to act and involve the Iron Throne in Tyroshi affairs.

Aegon thought it might be arrogant but he believed that Viserys, no doubt the Small Council had a large factor in convincing Viserys to act, had acted partially because of Aegon.

Personally and because of what his actions had caused.

The combination with the fall of Slaver's Bay and the slave rebellions in the Free Cities around the Stepstones would likely have increased piracy.

Seleyse had said that some of the merchant ships complained about the situation.

The one point he wasn't sure about was whether or not Viserys would annex Tyrosh into the Iron Throne. If it was only Viserys, if it was Viserys and the Small Council, Aegon thought that they'd go that far.

But with Daemon and Lord Corlys in Viserys' ears…

Such an act would make Essos even more volatile than it already was, Aegon admitted to her.

Aegon's campaign already sent large parts of Essos into chaos, and for all that they knew, the actions of the Iron Throne, and Aegon's upcoming actions in the Disputed Lands and Myr, would send the entire continent into a spiral.

One part of her was happy but another was guilt-ridden. So many people could die…

Aegon sighed. "What's done is done. This is current situation and bemoaning it will do us no favours. Besides, Johanna is still keen on the alliance, which is the more important part in all of the provisional agreement we'd struck."

Aegon wanted Lys to be a core ally to Elamaerys. Not only as a place to recruit more people, but also as a place to keep them tied into the affairs of Essos.

With Liberty Bay and Lys as allies, they were more or less set. Throw in the Summer Isles, they'd be in a fantastic position.

"I doubt that will change, not as long as Volantis remains intact." Gael assessed. Lys most certainly kept a wary eye on Volantis.

"No, I suppose not." Aegon said and Gael frowned a little.

She knew that Aegon did not want to get into another major conflict but the possibility of him fighting Volantis was high. They'd be threatened by his actions, after all. First in the East and now in the West. They'd be wondering when he'd strike at them.

And she hated the idea of him getting involved in another major conflict like that.

Especially as she knew that Aegon would embroil himself in the affairs of Volantis. It was just the kind of man he was. Aegon always felt a strong sense of responsibility. It was why he'd been so enamoured with freedom and adventure.

He'd been trying to run from this responsibility he'd felt and even after he'd claimed to her he was doing the liberation for the sake of Elamaerys, for their children, she knew, at the very heart of it, was that Aegon hated not doing anything when he had the power and the means to change the lives of innocents.

Volantis doing anything against Aegon would breach the final seal of his reluctance to do anything about Volantis, only second now to New Ghis when it came to chattel slavery.

"Is it so strange that I am praying to the Gods that Volantis will not act rashly against you?" Gael said with a heavy sigh.

"No. It makes you human." Aegon said softly and she heard a light sigh. "I'm not exactly so keen to get myself involved in another war…another…"

Aegon didn't need to finish his sentence for her to understand.

"The Galleons still having arrived?" Gael asked, changing the subject.

"No, they have not. Can't be much longer though." Aegon said to her. No…probably only at most another week, mayhaps two, away from arriving.

"We've gotten all of the items and in the quantities you wanted them. We may have to skimp a little on the adult sheep however."

Eight hundred sheep were meant to be delivered in this next wave.

"Why?" she asked with a frown.

"We've sustained greater number of casualties and injuries amongst our people. I want to send them home." Aegon told her.

"How many did we lose at Elyria?" Gael asked, her heart sinking.

"Five hundred. More than twice that injured. Most will recover fine over the next few moons but some will bear lifelong injuries." Aegon's voice was solemn as he spoke. She could tell that he was feeling guilty about the losses. He felt every loss.

Gael nodded to herself, her eyes closing a little. Many of the men that stayed with Aegon had married. How many wives and how many children were left without husbands and fathers?

"…Their bodies?"

"We got them all. Their ashes will return to their families before they will be put to rest in the Hall." Aegon told her firmly and she nodded at that. It was the least they could for their people.

She knew then that Aegon would not take any more of their people with him to the Disputed Lands if he could help it. The Unsullied or the Liberty Bay soldiers would make up the bulk of their forces, she knew.

He might claim pretence to his people, that they were to protect their wealth, but mostly, Aegon wanted as many of their people back to Elamaerys.

"How many lambs will you bring?" Gael asked, returning to the subject at hand.

"Three hundred instead of the hundred."

"They may die in the journey." Gael warned. Winter was meant to be calmer waters but who knows really. If they got caught in a storm…

"Perhaps but we've done this before. The men should know how to deal with this."

Gael hummed disapprovingly but she said nothing further on it. Instead, she talked to him about the rest of the goods that would be brought in the next wave.

Spices, salt, herbs, seeds, medicinal plants, resins, saplings, jams, dried fruits, steel ingots, copper ingots, cloths and ropes and iron tools and nails and more they talked about.

Nearly half of the inventory on the ships will be goods that were necessary for the colony. Another quarter would be livestock. More chickens, more sheep and all kinds of smaller but fast-breeding livestock, like hares and rabbits.

Only a quarter of the fleet's capacity will be assigned to the treasure they got from Liberty Bay, and most of it will be gold, gems, silver and Valyrian Steel.

They'd already expanded the vault underneath the manse and they had time yet to expand it further.

She wished they had the manpower to begin building their castle at the top of the crowned mountain, the one that Aegon had taken their eldest sons too.

But for now, it would remain a dream.

They talked further about how many more people would be sent to Elamaerys.

About four thousand people would go to Elamaerys. A thousand orphans – Aegon said they were largely Naathi but there were some orphans with Valyrian heritage – but the majority would be adults that could be useful.

Almost a thousand were selected from the mines all around Liberty Bay whilst another thousand were farmhands that were promised lands after a decade of service whilst the last thousand were a combination of things. Scribes and tutors and artisans and blacksmiths, all useful peoples that'd add to their community.

"How many of the army will return?" Gael asked as their conversation came to a slow.

"I'm not sure yet. I want to send at least a thousand of the army, the most loyal. I also want to send some Unsullied to help guard our family. Especially since we'll be adding another twenty or thirty thousand people over the course of a year…and a half, depending on how long I have to stay." Aegon told her.

Many of their future plans necessitated another large expansion of their colony.

They wanted to settle to the west of Elamaerys and found smaller villages and towns there.

After that, they'd be more particular about gaining more people…choosing to take in orphans and the most destitute that would mesh well with their people.

"It would be well received by the people." Gael admitted. "News is sparing after all, and the news of our victories to the wider public would help mesh the community together even more." Gael said.

The glass candles were a firmly held secret. Only the Council and the most trusted knew of them. For now.

"Hmm." Aegon hummed. "I hope so." Aegon said and they fell into a lull of silence.

One that she broke. "Solonys tried to ride Stormfyre and follow his elder brothers a few days ago. Only the timely intervention by one of the dragonkeepers prevented Solonys from escaping with Stormfyre."

"What?" Aegon sounded taken aback.

She laughed though it petered off as she sobered up. "Yes, I know. Stormfyre spewed a gust of flame towards the dragonkeeper who barely escaped from the attack."

"Reckless." Aegon said with a clear frown in his voice. "How severe did you punish him?"

"Quite severe. I've restricted his access to Stormfyre and is stuck at the manse for several moons. Castorys and Valarr have taken upon themselves to discipline Solonys too though they like to call it 'training'."

Aegon snorted before he sighed. "They're not taking it too far are they? I don't want Solonys to resent his brothers."

"They're not." Gael assured. "Truthfully, I'm glad for it. Solonys is getting to that age where he's getting envious of the freedom his elder brothers have. It doesn't help that he's always surrounded by his sisters and the Celtigar girls. Alton after all is still just a babe." Fortunately Alton Celtigar wasn't much younger than Solonys.

Soon enough the two boys would have each other to grow up with.

Once they were slightly older, seven or eight namedays, they'd introduce the boys to the squires like they'd did to their eldest boys. It would help humble them too, whilst also letting them know other boys their age, even if they were smallfolk, really.

They continued to talk, mostly Gael filling in Aegon on the happenings of his children and, as always, she could hear him basically soak in all that she had to share.

It almost felt as he was back with her.

Almost.

-Break-

Early 113 AC – Astapor

Zhoznizzi POV

Her horse galloped across the dusty earth and when she was at a far enough distance, she kicked at her horse, getting her to stop. "Steady girl." Zhoznizzi said as she patted the black mane of her mare.

The horse blew air through its nose, causing Zhoznizzi to smile a little though she lost that smile when she looked to at the city walls. She was at the most southern point of the city walls, nearby the ports, where most of the damage of to the city walls had been sustained.

Although now, she thought as she eyed the lighter colours of a few sections of the city walls, the damage was repaired…at least claimed by the builders, she thought with a mildly disdainful look across her face.

"It looks certainly repaired, doesn't it, girl?" Zhoznizzi said with a note of unhappiness as she combed her fingers through her horse' mane. Yes, it did look repaired but whether or not it was good enough to repel a siege she was not sure.

The old walls were...well, old.

Thousands of years old.

She doubted the Ghiscari ever did any work on them since they were built when the Ghiscari Empire still existed. After the fall of the Ghiscari at the hands of the Valyrians, there'd been little need for them to maintain their walls.

Even after the Doom, the slaver cities managed to gain an accord with the Dothraki, the only real threat in Essos.

Now with Astapor a Freed City, that no longer was the case. The Dothraki would test them, New Ghis would seek to restore ' order' and slavers would harass them.

She would have thought the Dothraki were not a real threat to the city of Astapor, to any of their cities, however she knew very well that the Freed Cities earned the hatred of many in Essos.

She could very well imagine a smart magister gifting siege weapons to the Dothraki and though the Dothraki were not exactly easy to reach an agreement with, the idea of taking strong-walled cities that no Dothraki has done since the decades of the fall of Old Valyria may well appeal to the more clever Dothraki.

It would be, to say the least, an absolute nightmare.

She scowled at the walls of the city.

If only the councillors would see reason to replace the old walls with newer ones.

Or at the very least build another set of walls five hundred yards around it. ' There is no reason to do that, councillor…you're being paranoid councillor…the walls will protect us if we need it councillor…' bastards she thought to herself.

She sighed before she shook her head. At least the walls were repaired, she thought mirthlessly. For now, the walls would suffice. She only hoped that she could convince the idiots to at least agree to a long term plan to expand the walls.

And she knew exactly what route to use.

In only a year, at most two, Prince Aegon and his men would leave, leaving for the Liberty Bay cities to fend for themselves.

To the East, Qarth.

To the West, Volantis and the Free Cities.

To the South, New Ghis.

To the North, the Dothraki.

They were surrounded on all sides.

A grim smile formed on her face. She didn't like using fear to beat others to her way of thinking but sometimes…sometimes people were just idiots that wouldn't listen to reason and when that happen…well, everything was fair game.

She spent quite some time riding along the walls, looking them over. The new wall sections for poor workmanship and the old wall sections for damage. She even rode all the way around the city walls – in the process finding some new sections of the old walls she had missed previously, sections that were definitely weakened, at least in her eyes – and she meticulously noted everything down before she returned to the city.

She rode through the main street of the city, the smells of olives and honey and spiced meats assaulting her nose as she rode through food stalls and inns and the like, and as she strode through the main square, such smells were replaced with perfumes and the smells of iron and coal.

Some recognised her, particularly the Unsullied city guards, and greeted her with a smile or a nod, which she stoically returned, though most were too busy living their own lives.

The city had recovered well and the people got used to their new freedom, especially as the Regency Council got people back to work into industries and employments befitting of their skills – though many had at first been needed to carry out repair work or clearing out of destroyed or damaged buildings – and the economy was working well too now though there was much room to improve.

The countryside, with its farms and plantations and mines, were thankfully running smoothly now, supplying the city with ample food and resources, and the craftsmen of the city – producing goods such as textiles, jewellery, leather, perfumes and dyes – had organised into Guilds, greatly aided by the Regency Council, with members of the Guild agreeing to set prices in terms of weight and terms of quality.

However, for the moment, it was hard to Astapor to sell its goods elsewhere, especially since Yunkai'i and Meereen produced very similar goods.

For now, the Regency Council was 'buying' the produce of the Guilds, to stimulate the economy of Astapor, something the other Regency Councils were doing the same. Similarly, they were also hiring men to tear down old buildings, old homes and apartments and building new ones in their steads, all of which bolstered the income of the people of Astapor, many of the men doing such construction work part time. It drained the coffers, expansive as they still were, but they all knew that they could not sustain this always.

They needed to find markets for their goods.

And somehow…Zhoznizzi doubted they'd find willing markets amongst their neighbours. Even if they had the ships to go to sell to Yi-Ti, they would have find a hard task selling their goods there. After all, Yi-Ti was infamous of only truly accepting raw resources in the forms of gems, diamonds, spices and exotic furs.

After all, Yi-Ti was the home of textiles, luxury and ordinary.

Only the Sunset Kingdoms were the best option, the Regency Council had decided.

They and, of course, Elamaerys, she thought to herself as she rode towards Ozdak pyramid, were the best options they presently had when it came to welcoming markets.

She was let into the gates of the Ozdak Pyramid by the guards and she walked through the flower gardens towards entrance hall that led, through a series of stairs, to the floor dedicated to her department. The Department of Public Works.

As she entered the solar of Izdahrdan, she saw Gorys in discussion with Hizdahr and Izdahrdan, though that discussion came to an end as three pairs of eyes turned to look at the doors, at the intrusion, and Gorys' face twisting at the sight of her, amusing her greatly at the open ways he displayed his irritation and dislike of her,

"Councillor Zhoznizzi." Gorys said with a forced smile, his hands moving to close the documents that were strewn on his desk. "Are you finally satisfied with the repair work of the walls?" Gorys asked but he didn't let her speak.

"Or will you have us dedicate more time, manpower and coin getting the walls to your excessive standards?" there was a strong amount of contempt in his voice.

She smiled a thin smile. Gorys was a bitter dour man who hated that she was elevated to Councillor status. He thought her unworthy and more specifically, he hated that he was technically subordinate to her. She was also sure that he thought she'd earn her Councillor title by fucking the Councillors the Prince had appointed.

He wasn't the only one to have that opinion, she mused as she saw the expressions of the other two men. Expressions that wilted slightly under her blank stare.

She would be lying if she said that it didn't bother. She couldn't afford not to let her bother her, as much as she would normally not care. Otherwise, she might grow complacent and get herself into a position she would hate to be in.

On the outside looking in.

"I wouldn't call my standards excessive, Gorys." Zhoznizzi said with small lopsided smile. "Rather, I would call it thorough. After all, it is this trait that has earned me the respect of those who can see the value of such a thing."

Gorys' expression tightened slightly but she paid no more attention at her traitorous underling. As much as she would wish to get rid of him out of her department, she would have to be patient until he made too grave a mistake.

It was only a matter of time of course. The man was a fool. A cunning fool but a fool nonetheless. He cut corners wherever possible and soon enough, he'd put the noose around his neck when he went too far with the constructions of the new apartments. Either by himself or by those he'd throw into the sea to save himself.

"But have no worry. For now, the walls are sufficiently repaired." She said with a widening smile, which Gorys did not appreciate but still, he remained silent.

"Izdahrdan." She called out to the early twenties aged man as she strode forward and placed the notes she'd taken in front of him. "Add these observations to the report." She said to the man as she stared into his eyes.

He worked with her on the walls though unfortunately he was rather easily swayed by the silver tongue of fools like Gorys.

"Of course Councillor." Izdahrdan said quickly. The report would be the meat of her reasoning that they should be planning an expansion of the city walls.

It also included the 'economic benefits' of carrying out the construction as it would tie up thousands of men to the construction and thus increase the stimulation of the local economy as the men would spend their hard earned coin in Astapor.

Most of the Councillors would see it as it is – a secondary benefit – but it may well sway more of them to her thinking.

She nodded to him and the other men before she swiftly left them to it.

She briefly spoke with the Councillor overseeing the administrators in the countryside – inquiring about the recent exploratory mining of old gemstone mines – before she left to go towards the ports where Okahr would be.

And, as she rode towards the ports, she went by Ullhor Pyramid, the huge building that Prince Aegon's people had taken for themselves.

Where all of their spoils were located.

It was a source of great intrigue to know exactly how much gold, silver and treasure was in that Pyramid. She'd seen the ships arrive from Yunkai and Meereen and she'd seen the ships unload crate after crate and taking it all to the Pyramid where they would disappear behind the gates.

Tens of millions of coins? Mayhaps even a hundred…?

She couldn't fathom that much, and she doubted it was that much, but it probably was close enough, she thought a little envious. All of that wealth would go to Elamaerys, spoils of war.

And it wasn't the only thing that'd go to Elamaerys too, she mused to herself as she rode past the Ullhor pyramid.

There were some Liberty Bay natives there too. And amongst them, there were orphans. Oddly, many of the orphans were of Naathi origin. Golden eyed and milk-brown skin. She and the councillors considered that they might be returned to Naath although they had some doubt about that, especially since the orphans were mixed with those peoples taken in from all across Liberty Bay, peoples who she knew would taken to Elamaerys soon enough.

The majority of these peoples were farmers and miners and those who had been trained to tutor children or as a scribe. ' Though gold was a priority, people were not far off down the list of priorities' Zhoznizzi mused to herself.

She'd knew well enough after the lessons she and the other administrators and councillors suffered that Prince Aegon greatly valued 'productivity' and 'skilled labour' and truthfully, she understood the point very well.

The Regency Councillor wanted to talk with Prince Aegon about that, to use the 'pilfering of skilled peoples' as a means to open up dialogue of trade that would focus on the goods that Astapor was capable of producing at this moment in time.

After all, Astapor was in a bind presently with the… concentration of very narrow 'skill-pool'.

Though the Astapori all had skills that were of necessity to the success of a city, without having industries that made the city stand out from the other Liberty Bay cities, like Braavos with its glass candles, its financial institutions and its vast fleet of merchants, they'd never truly become a power that could stand on its own feet.

Getting Elamaerys to buy their goods was one of several topics, including if Prince Aegon would know of ways to distinguish Astapor – and the other cities – from the rest of the region…from the rest of the Known World.

Idly, she wondered if that was also part of his reasons for Velos, a means to supplement the region's capability to produce profitable goods by getting the isle to produce vast swathes of fruits and other luxury foodstuffs that they wouldn't be able to produce in vast quantities along the Worm and the Skahazadhan rivers…

As she neared at the Merchants Port – the only port in use by merchants presently with the other main port in use by the Elamaeri ships – in the distance, she saw the telltale of Swan-ship mainmasts peaking over the buildings.

If only the Summer Islanders could be enticed into buying their goods instead of just their copper and iron ores. She wasn't so confident that they could be, unfortunately.

The Summer Isles produced their own clothing and many of their own dyes and it would take extraordinarily colourfully dyed textiles to entice the Summer Islanders to buy their textiles.

Similar cases could be found in all of the other goods Astapor produced.

Truthfully, all the Summer Islanders wanted from them was just copper and iron, two resources that the Summer Islanders were starved off.

It was why the Summer Islanders were largely here for, now, anyway.

Her expression twisted a little.

The Summer Islanders that'd come had been fewer than expected, in all honesty.

Even now, she thought, after it was proven that Astapor and the other cities were free from the foul taint of slavery.

With the friendships Prince Aegon crafted with the Princes and Princesses of the Isles, particularly with the likes of Prince Balal and Prince Jalla, one would think they'd send more men to Astapor when their ships arrived to dock at their capitals.

But no, initially they only received less than a dozen ships – many of which returned back home loaded with freed Summer Islanders – and only in the past moon have they received a decent level of visitors they expected from the Summer Isles.

She suspected that the Summer Islanders had been wary, suspicious even, and only after the swan-ships returned back the Isles with freed Summer Islanders, bringing back word that it is true, that Astapor is no longer a slaver city but a free city, did they relent and fully engage with Astapor and soon, the rest of the Bay.

She frowned as she heard a commotion further up in the Merchant's port, a commotion that seemed to draw more people there, and it stopped her lines of thinking, wondering what it was that was causing such a disturbance.

When she unhorsed herself and strode towards the Merchant's Port, she headed towards a group of men that were avidly listening one of the dockworkers avidly animating with his hands about something.

"….-ey'll be in less than a few hours, they reck'n!"

"What and who will be here in less than a few hours?" Zhoznizzi asked, drawing their attentions.

"Big ships! One o' them Summer Islanders' crew said they saw 'em coming this a'way. Think he call 'em Gahlleons. The Prince's ships!"

Zhoznizzi's eyes widened. The dockworker continued, excitement in his eyes. "Says they be like floatin' whales, slow and crawlin' they are!" the dockworker laughs "Nothin' like the Swans! Should be right a sight, eh?!"

Zhoznizzi left afterward, walking at a quick towards Okahr.

The Galleons would soon be here! At least according to that man. Okahr would be able to confirm it to her and if it was true…

Well, things were about to get interesting in Astapor, she thought to herself.

-Break-

Early 113 AC, Somewhere in the Gulf of Grief…

Vaemond Velaryon POV

"I thought I'd never see a blue sky again." His son said with jest as he arrived to stand by Vaemond on the upper deck, having stopped his lazing around.

The past few days had seen the skies take on a dark and reddish haze, tainted by the dust that came from their west, that came from Old Valyria.

As they arrived in the Gulf of Grief, they'd thought they might gotten to close to Old Valyria but that was not the case.

No Velaryon could make such a mistake, no, it was merely that the curse that took Old Valyria was still going strong and reminding the world of it.

"It won't be long now." Vaemond said as he rested his hands on the hilt of his sword. "We'll be at Astapor in less than two days." They were not far from Velos and they'd go around the Isle near to the coast of Slaver's Bay and then onward to Astapor.

"Aye." His son said, uncharacteristically serious and it made Vaemond look at his son. Daemion was a…well, not quite a disappointment but not quite a son to be proud of it. Daemion had acquitted himself well in the Stepstones but he only was involved in a single fight, having been onboard all that time.

Admittedly, Daemion had been young but Daeron had been younger still who had bloodied his sword at five and ten.

All that Daemion could do, Daeron could do better and for an elder son to be so outshined, and then looked over by the Lord of their House, deeming his younger brother more worthy for the hand of the Lovely Laena, well…

This journey had been one his eldest son needed. Wanted. If only to show that Daemion did have value.

Vaemond did not disapprove. He only wanted to be sure that his son did not embarrass him…or worse, get them killed.

Vaemond looked away from his son. "Keep your wits about you, Daemion. His Grace's brother is unlikely to be the same boy we knew more than a decade ago."

It was an understatement, truly.

Many of the Narrow Sea Houses knew Aegon well. The boy had practically fostered friendships with many of them, even if some of those friendships had wilted over the years before his departure.

Nevertheless, House Velaryon had remained in his good graces because of their kinship. His nephew and niece, Laena and Laenor, were particularly affected Aegon and Gael's departure from Westeros.

Daeron too, to a lesser extent.

And it was this kinship that'd gotten them – and Lord Celtigar – sent on this mission to deliver a letter that they all knew, they all knew, held within a demand, an order, for Aegon to return and answer to His Grace King Viserys for his actions that reverberated all around Essos.

Vaemond wanted to snort.

Gods…

If what he heard in Lys – a city now too that bore the consequences of Aegon's actions in Slaver's Bay – was true, the shield of kinship may not be as hardy as they would hope it to be, especially if King Viserys was less than courteous.

Aegon was not the third son of Baelon they knew. Not anymore.

A warlord in sheepskin.

"He wouldn't harm us." Daemion said with confidence. "Not us. Not Lord Celtigar. To do that would effectively send him against the Iron Throne who would have the backing of House Velaryon. Not even Aegon could contest against that."

Vaemond looked back towards his son. "That may be so however there are many ways in which Prince" Vaemond elucidated sternly, reminding his son of the station Aegon held. The last thing they needed was for his son to be his most foolish and be familiar and without courtesy against a man who more than likely has conquered all of Slaver's Bay by now.

"Aegon can take out his displeasure against us. We're in uncertain territory and you would do well to remember that, boy." Vaemond said sternly before he looked away from his son.

What he'd do that his youngest son with him…

The journey continued for the next few days, unmolested. They did see a few Swan-ships heading towards the opposite direction, curiously enough.

"My Lord!" One of the sailors called out to him from quarters. After he bade the man to enter, he immediately understood they'd arrived "We're here, my Lord!"

Vaemond arrived on deck and he'd taken the Far-Eye, and, as he gazed through it, he saw the city of Astapor in the distance through the lens of the Far-Eye.

And that wasn't the only thing he'd seen.

No…

He also saw great hulking ships that were larger than any he'd seen before.

Even larger than the whale-ships of Ib.

' So the stories are true…' Vaemond mused to himself as he took in everything he could. ' Those ships…they must be the kinds that are needed to get to the West…'

Vaemond looked away from his Far-Eye, his interest peaking. He had little expectation of success when it came to Aegon acquiescing to King Viserys' demands.

But it would not mean he would leave Astapor empty-handed.

And mayhaps…

Mayhaps…

He could learn the ways to get to the West.

A feat that not even the Sea-Snake accomplished.

-Break-

Early 113 AC – Cliffs of Northeastern Tyrosh

Daemon POV

His legs twitched impatiently as he sat atop of Caraxes, furious violet eyes staring at the horizon beyond the cliffs of northern Tyrosh. The salty smell of the sea stuck the insides of his nose as waves crashed against the cliffs of Tyrosh.

The wait was the worst of it all. ' I should have insisted in leading the Crownlands forces' Daemon thought viciously as he turned his head towards the west, towards the distant sight of the city of Tyrosh.

By now, he reckoned, their forces should have helped solidified the control of the ' Merchant Conclave of Tyrosh' – Daemon snorted when he learnt the original name of the coalition – of Tyrosh.

His flybys on Caraxes naturally helped as well.

Though the Tyroshi were insistent that no dragons were involved in their seizing of Tyrosh – the fools did not want to damage any property and guild buildings – he was sure the sight of a dragon flying over their city aided their cause.

Like Corlys, the fools were more concerned about preserving their means of coin than they were about glory and victory.

Both the merchants and Corlys were on the same side of a coin. It was no wonder that Corlys knew exactly who they should support to rise to power in Tyrosh.

Daemon clenched his teeth in frustration and Caraxes warbled a soft growl as his dragon snaked his head to look upon Daemon. Daemon blew air through his nose before he leaned forward and tapped Caraxes on his scales.

"I know, I know…this waiting grates on me too." Daemon said with a scowl and Caraxes' lips drew back to reveal rows of deadly teeth. It caused to Daemon to smirk a little at the reciprocation of his dragon.

Daemon looked away from Caraxes and turned back towards the waves. They received word that Myr should be arriving at Tyrosh any time now, having set sail with sellswords in tow days ago.

Daemon narrowed his eyes. Sellswords that they bought the services of in order to protect themselves against Aegon.

Aegon…

Daemon rolled his jaw slightly as he thought of his wayward younger brother.

It would be a lie to say that Daemon had thought of Aegon at all ever since he'd abandoned their family for the Summer Isles like a coward.

He'd been so furious that Viserys was allowing Aegon to leave Dragonstone with all of its smallfolk, an act that the island still felt years later.

The entire isle was crowded with Andal and First Men half breeds, none of them holding a great deal of loyalty to their House. It was, to tell the truth, an absolute travesty and Viserys…Viserys all let it happen.

Daemon scowled lightly before he leaned forward and gripped onto the saddle handle. It wasn't surprising, to be truthful. There was only one voice that defeat both the voices of the cunt Hightower and his own voice…the voice of Aemma.

He shook his head.

No matter…he was setting it right as it was now anyway, having already gotten rid of some of the smallfolk he didn't like. By the time his son rose to take his seat, he'd have the smallfolk worship the very ground his family walked upon.

Daemon's expression calmed as he lost himself into the stretching blue horizon.

Aegon…his younger brother…the one he'd disliked greatly for having been the cause of the death of his mother. It had seemed so unfair that Daemon lost his mother when all they'd gotten in return was a sick and dumb and mute creature that barely even responded to anyone.

Daemon's expression twisted slightly. It was strange and perhaps even ironic that Daemon disliked Aegon more when his younger brother had miraculously recovered from whatever deviant ailment had hold of him.

Some said it was the queer magic that surrounded the dragons that helped him recover. In any case, by that time, Daemon had grown used to 'hating' Aegon.

And Aegon had gotten used to showing his indifference to Daemon, something that Daemon, though he'd never admit it, only made him more petty in keeping up his 'hate' of Aegon.

A small smirk grew on Daemon's face. To think that that sick and dumb and mute creature could accomplish all that he'd accomplished, haunting Viserys' dreams and being whispered about all across the realm, smallfolk and noble alike…

Prince Aegon the Liberator. Prince Aegon the Faithful.

Finding new lands out in the West, something that not even Old Valyria accomplished, an accomplishment enough to cast his name into legend. And if that wasn't enough, sacking and destroying ancient cities in the name of retribution for having slighted the blood of the dragon, and succeeding in doing so…

The small smirk left Daemon's face.

He would be lying if Daemon didn't admit to himself that he was…envious, more than a little, especially about Aegon's accomplishments out in Slaver's Bay.

Though that envy was no more than superficial. The greater accomplishment was of course finding this Elamaerys. Slaver's Bay was no more than an outcome of great deception that Aegon was smart enough to conjure.

It was no great feat of conquest. It was no great feat of strategy. No…it was no more than taking advantage of weak cities that were lucky they were friendly with their neighbours.

Had Aegon taken any of the Free Cities, and held them, he would have been far more impressed with the feat.

Daemon scoffed as his hands tightened on the handle.

No…Aegon was no Aegon the Conqueror Reborn and he'd taken several tongues for even comparing his younger brother to their ancestor.

Aegon's accomplishments were impressive but they were no more impressive than his victories in the Stepstones. If anything, his victories in the Stepstones was far more impressive given the lack of men and support he'd had against the Triarchy.

Daemon's expression twitched and he wasn't sure if it was from annoyance or because of amusement. Perhaps it was both as he thought on Viserys and his reaction towards Aegon's… misdeeds as Viserys was oft to say.

It was amusing to think that Viserys disliked Aegon more than Daemon did presently.

Not that it was surprising. Viserys was a creature of comfort. He loved tourneys. He loved drink and he loved that stupid model of Old Valyria.

Viserys…

Viserys loved peace and quiet. He hated discourse, he hated any kind of conflict.

And Aegon…

Aegon was bringing everything he hated right to Viserys' doorstep.

Chaos. Instability. Andal eyes that gazed upon him with scrutiny.

Scrutiny that came with whispers and mutterings and jests behind Viserys' back.

And Viserys, though he loved to be blind, could not be pretend to be blind in the wake of such… attention.

' His younger brothers are more impressive…'

Daemon snorted, his smirk growing. It wasn't annoyance. It was amusement, he decided on what that feeling had been. What that feeling is.

It was ironic…that it took Aegon's misdeeds for Viserys to come and lean on Daemon's strength.

Viserys had not wanted to lean on him before, thinking him no more than a savage bull ready to snap and run down anything that looked at him differently.

He'd preferred that Hightower cunt; he even preferred the opinions of lesser men that thought themselves important before they had a seat on the Small Council…

And though it may be true that Daemon was savage, in a way of course, he'd not do anything like that to Viserys. Never. He'd promised as much to their father and he'd never break such a promise, Daemon thought to himself with a hard and dark look.

It was one of the few times his father had asked something of him. The only other time being when his father had asked, had begged, of Daemon, had been for Daemon to sire a child on his Bronze Bitch, an act that got him rewarded with his son becoming King.

Daemon lost his hard and dark look. He remembered those days well, when he'd raged against his father and grandfather, the meddling old bastard that he was.

' It is your duty to our House, Daemon!' was amongst many things thrown at him and though many thought he'd been threatened into exile, nothing of the sort happened though he let the rumour stick, of course.

He wouldn't let his Bronze Bitch get any more smugger than his cunt of a wife already was if she knew that he'd fucked her without the threat of exile forcing him to do it.

Especially since he'd gotten to understand early on that his father, and grandfather, knew something…that they knew that fucking his Bronze Bitch into pregnancy would get him a son that would be King.

A son that rode Vermithor, the dragon of Kings now.

Daemon grinned slightly as he took firmer hold onto his reins. And what a son Baelon was.

Daemon was not upset that Baelon was more… honourable. That he had the noble bearings that the idiotic Andal women loved to see in a man and knights would love to die for.

It was perfect.

Daemon knew what he was. A bastard of the right kind. A killer, a schemer.

But he also knew that Baelon was… better suited for that damned throne. As it was, he'd end up killing too many of the Andals in irritation and as much fun as it was to torch entire keeps into nothingness, he was prideful of his Targaryen heritage.

To destroy, or even damage, Aegon the Conqueror's legacy was not something Daemon could allow to happen.

Daemon would not let himself do that nor would he allow anyone else to do so…not even the scheming Hightowers who were waiting on a chance to take what belonged to Daemon and his son, Daemon thought with dark amusement.

In any case, Daemon accepted that Kingship was not to be his but instead was meant for his son. And it was enough, Daemon mused amusingly to himself.

It was odd, truly, to think that his long held ambition could so easily wither when he had Baelon in his hands.

Even as Rhaenyra flourished, growing more beautiful by the day, a true Valyrian beauty, he'd not been tempted to take her for himself. Well…that was not quite true, of course, but he'd still restrained himself from planting seeds in that foolish girl. It wasn't hard to tell that the girl had eyes for him…dangerous eyes…

Daemon snorted before he shook his head. "Ah Caraxes…what they say is true…an idle mind is a dangerous thing." Daemon mused to Caraxes who only growled and Daemon tapped the scales of his dragon before he leaned forward and rested his chin on the handle of his saddle.

Baelon should be so lucky that he had a Valyrian to take to wife, something that had been long denied Daemon. Ah…the love that he had for his son…

"Any time now…"

A ship bearing a Velaryon blue sail would come towards him, indicating that the Myrish were nearby. That would be his signal.

Daemon impatiently waited for a good while longer. It was hours later that Daemon saw something in the distance. And, when he looked through the Far-Eye he saw the Velaryon blue sails.

The grin that formed on Daemon's face was chilling.

" Fly, Caraxes!" Daemon commanded as Daemon finished strapping himself into his seat and Caraxes responded with the same bloodthirsty delight Daemon had.

Caraxes' blood-coloured wings spanned massively, and in a great forces, beat his wings as Caraxes trampled forward, and, several long moments later, Caraxes lifted off of the ground, almost falling towards the ocean.

Caraxes' wings beat faster, and then faster, his hind-claws skimming on the surface of the ocean, and then Caraxes began to climb.

By the time they passed the Velaryon ship, they were well and high, Daemon's hungry eyes searching left and right.

" Left, Caraxes, fly left!" Daemon growled as he finally noticed where the Myrrish ships were, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. As they neared, he could see the ships, hundreds of ships.

Daemon smiled as he leaned forward in his saddle, his eyes bearing down on the ships ahead. " Lower, Caraxes…let them see us!" Daemon said with a smile that stretched his face. He wanted to hear them through the noise. Through the wind, through Caraxes' growls and flames.

Daemon straightened himself out as he held tighter to the reins, Caraxes flying lower and lower as they approached, and he waited, content to wait as they neared the ships, savouring the anticipation, the growing panic as he watched little ants move about their ships.

And, when the ships were close, so close that there was little time before Caraxes arrived, did Daemon hear the panic in their voices and he delighted in it.

" Caraxes…dracarys." Daemon's command was no more than a whisper though Caraxes understood Daemon's feeling enough as it was and a great, fume of flame erupting from Caraxes maw as they swept past the first ship and Daemon pulled at the reins, his feelings of bloodlust and wish for death consuming him, consuming Caraxes who spit out flame after flame, torrents of flames that washed over the ships and their sails like dry wheat caught on fire by the slightest of hot embers.

The screams began, screams of agony and screams that hallowed the sea air, screams that grew louder and more discordant as more ships and more men were put on fire, burning and burning and burning and Daemon did not know when he started laughing, a mad delighted wonderful laugh, nor did he know when he had stood up in his saddle and to see more, to watch more of the flames sink ship after ship.

" More, Caraxes! Give me more! Give THEM more! " Daemon roared against the wind and Caraxes responded to his wish for more death with eagerness and excitement and more ships were set alight.

By the time that Caraxes felt is if he was growing sluggish, Daemon had counted dozens upon dozens of ships still burning, and, as Daemon gazed upon the distance, from whence the ships came, he only saw a smattering of ships having escaped the pyres Daemon had set alight.

" Enough Caraxes…let's return." Daemon said, his eyes though never left the ships that were lucky enough escape.

' No matter' Daemon thought to himself. Myr's capability to fight was greatly reduced and now…now Tyrosh was as good as a vassal to the Iron Throne.

As Caraxes turned back towards Tyrosh, Daemon took to look towards his East.

' It seems I have done you a great favour…little brother.' Daemon thought, his smile wearing off as he looked back towards the west. ' I will look forward with eager interest to see if you can finish what you have started… '