The Dragons Realm, A House Targaryen AAR

[HistoryDude]

And the invasion of Dorne begins. Hopefully this isn't as bad for the Targs as in canon.

I wonder who killed the prospective heir to the Vale and the North - it wasn't Aegon, but I wouldn't put it past someone trying to curry with the Targs.

 

[Midnite Duke]

What is a scorpion? Fighting two dragons is not the wisest plan. Thank you for the update.

 

[HistoryDude]

What is a scorpion? Fighting two dragons is not the wisest plan. Thank you for the update.

I can answer this. Scorpions are... basically canons designed to take down dragons. They've worked before in the books, although I don't think that their success rate is all that high (a lot of dragon-killing by scorpions was reliant on luck)

 

[streaker77]

And the invasion of Dorne begins. Hopefully this isn't as bad for the Targs as in canon.

I wonder who killed the prospective heir to the Vale and the North - it wasn't Aegon, but I wouldn't put it past someone trying to curry with the Targs.

The invasion....whether it ends well or poorly for the Targaryens will be bloody. I was interested in the latter bit as well but Sharra Arryn died of natural causes...at least I think.

What is a scorpion? Fighting two dragons is not the wisest plan. Thank you for the update.

History Dude explained it well but they are basically giant crossbows which shoot huge bolts like a cannon(picture down below), they will make an appearance in the next chapter as well.

-Next chapter coming tommorow.

 

[streaker77]

12th Moon, 8001
Fields outside Yronwood Castle

Corlys Velaryon, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard sat upon his horse, looking across the field at the Dornish Host that approached them from his vantage point on the hill, his sworn brothers mounted around him, their white armor shining in the sun. Ser Gregor Goode held the standard of the Kingsguard, a plain white banner waving in the wind.

It was a pleasant day, though one that would soon see its fair share of blood and death. Two weeks prior, their scouts had informed them a large host was approaching Yronwood to give battle, Aegon had been content to await them at Yronwood rather than attempting to take another castle after its burning, the boneway had been taken and their supply lines were intact. Orys Baratheon had not committed his men to the campaign but he was more than willing to send food and supplies to the Targaryen host, giving them the luxury of simply waiting.

The luxury of time meant that Aegon, Rhaenys and Corlys had been able to plan the coming battle and they meant to make use of the hills around them, arranging their 8700 man army in three equal forces spread out along the hills outside Yronwood, the forests at their sides.

Aegon and his sister would of course be fighting atop their dragons, so command of the land forces would fall to Corlys and other smaller commanders, the Lord Commander and his sworn brothers would be fighting on the right flank, where they expected to face the men of Prince Lewyn of Dorne, younger brother to Princess Deria and the current heir to Dorne.

Ryam Redwyne, the king's squire would also be squirting for the lord commander in battle since Aegon would be on his dragon, the newly knighted Theo Tyrell would not be present however, as his sister was in Dorne and his presence could be seen as an act of aggression.

Corlys had to admit the Dornish had brought an impressive host, numbering some 14,000 men, the scouts claiming it comprised nearly 2400 cavalry, a number that did not appear to be exaggerated. In addition to this, the Dornish had brought several scorpions with them which were being prepared for the coming battle.

‘’We will be outnumbered…..even with the Dragons we will need to keep our discipline, the King and his sister cannot be everywhere at once.’’ Corlys mused, the scouts estimates were that the Dornish had nearly six thousand more men, though this was counteracted by the Targaryen dragons and their defensive positions on the hills.

‘’It doesn't matter how many they number….we shall throw them back.’’ Ser Harold Langward said.

‘’Aye…the bastards will burn.’’ Ser Gawen replied, the ruby in his Valyrian steel sword shining bright like his armor.

‘’Nevertheless we will not be rash….we will respond to their attack, give the King and Queen time to burn their host.’’ Corlys said and his sworn brothers nodded.

‘’With their numbers they could send a force through the forest, hit us in our flank.’’ Garmon Hightower said he, was a fine warrior and sword but was not a man that liked to ignore any possibility.

‘’Unlikely, they would be spotted by the King or his sister from the air, and would be burned easily, they wouldn't be able to bring a Scorpion through the woods.’’ Corlys responded.

Before the reachman could respond, a cacophony of trumpets sounded…the Dornish were beginning their attack.

‘’Helmet.’’ Ser Corlys demanded and Ryam Redwyne handed the Lord Commander his helm, made of heavy silver and steel plate with eye slits.

From the hill he saw Lewyn Martell was sending his heavy infantry in first, split into two groups advancing on the flanks while archers advanced up the middle, seemingly undefended.

‘’He wants us to attack his archers …draw us in….order a shield wall with our own infantry we won't fall for it, send the cavalry behind the hill in reserve, they will be targeted by their archers.’’ Corlys demanded and one of his men nodded, sounding a trumpet giving the orders, and the Targaryen right flank began to make a shieldwall at the top of the hill.

He turned to his sworn brothers ‘’Dismount, our horses will do us no good in a shield wall.

He saw Aegon and Rhaenys had mounted their dragons and were beginning to fly towards the advancing Dornish, Corlys forced himself to focus on the battle in front of him, he always felt powerless that despite being a Kingsguard, he could do nothing to defend his cousin on dragonback.

The Dornish, seeing their trap had not worked merged their two groups of heavy infantry into one, advancing up the hill while the archers once in range began to fire up the hill, several of their arrows striking shields around the Lord Commander, who along with his sworn brothers was present at the front rank.

‘’LOCK SHIELDS…TIGHTEN THE LINE.’’ Corlys commanded and the shield wall tightened in preparation for the Dornish charge.

A wordless cry came from the Dornish as they charged, many of them in heavy leather and chainmail armed with two handed axes or with shields and maces, the men necessary to break a shield wall.

The crash was enormous as the two lines came together in a crash of shields, with the front line of the Targaryen line being pushed back initially.

A dornish warrior in a padded leather jerkin with a steel nasal helm charged the lord commander, raising a two handed ax in the air, but Corlys calmly blocked the strike upon his shield, causing the blade to become stuck, Corlys then hacked his sword at the wooden handle, shearing the ax in two. The man could only give a surprised look at his now useless weapon as Corlys delivered a fearsome hack under the man's nasal helm at his face, sending blood and bone everywhere as the man fell to the ground, his body rolling down the hill.

To his left he saw a Dornish warrior on the ground,wounded and begging for mercy, but Ser Gawen Corbray gave him none, bringing Lady Forlorn into the man's neck with a yell of rage. Ser Gregor Goode had the standard of the Kingsguard in one hand, and the other a shield, in which he used his strength to hold the line.

A dornish warrior with a Glaive cut down the man in front of Corlys and charged the lord commander, but Corlys punched his shield forward, shattering the man's neck and causing him to crumple to the bloodstained ground.

The Lord Commander had fought his way past the shield wall at this point and he sighted his next opponent, who appeared to be a nobleman.

The man was dressed in a rather brown plain cloth vest, with a vest of stitched leather on his chest, he wore no helm and had only a long ashen spear. Corlys would have thought him a common soldier if not for his demeanor.

Corlys was far enough away from the main fighting to approach the man, who stood with his spear outstretched.

‘’If we would come to blows I would know your name Ser.’’ Corlys said as the battle raged around them, the two men circled each other.

‘’I am Galeran….but you give me an honor I do not possess for I am no Knight…I own a small keep along the coast….my ancestors have lived there for centuries, first as fisherman and eventually lords…it is for their memory I fight….they lived and died free….as will I if necessary.’’ The man said calmly.

‘’I shall give you a clean death my lord’’ Corlys said.

‘’Perhaps.’’ The lord of Sandford said, before the melee began in earnest.

Galeran launched two strikes with his spear, but the lord commander blocked them both with his sword, forcing the spearpoint away. Their isolation had ended by now, and the battle had moved around them, but both men seemed not to notice, focused on their deadly dance.

Corlys launched an attack this time, but Galerion dodged it and counterattacked, the Lord commander blocked the strike with his shield and very nearly was able to cut the spear in half with his sword but the dornishman withdrew it at the last moment. It was clear that Corlys was far more skilled, but the man continued to fight on, sidestepping a shield bash from the Velaryon knight, but Corlys had simultaneously launched a backhand strike from above cutting the man's spear in half.

True to his word, Corlys gave the man a clean death, a sword through the throat which killed the man instantly.

Despite this victory the melee on the right remained stalemated with both sides continuing the fierce fight.


Skies above the Battle

Balerion let forth another stream of fire, setting the hills ablaze, along with the unfortunate men and horses in the front rank. The commander of the Dornish center had sent forth his light cavalry and horse archers to try and draw the Targaryens from the hill, but Aegon had not been letting them get close.

After the destruction at Yronwood, Aegon did not want any more death than was necessary, and his main objective for the battle was to simply force the Dornish to retreat as opposed to destroying their whole army, many of the men that fought against him on the field would someday be his people.

True to that end, Aegon had been more focused on burning the land around the Dornish center flank, preventing them from advancing and hopefully showing them the battle was pointless, but they were a brave people and slowly but surely were advancing.

The King had been so focused on his task of stopping the centers advance that he had neglected to keep an eye on his flanks, Rhaenys and Corlys were competent commanders and he trusted them completely, so it was a complete surprise when he heard the trumpet sounds from the left flank, signaling a fighting withdrawal.

He turned and saw that Rhaenys’s flank was in bad shape, and the Dornish had essentially neutralized her and her dragon.

They had scorpions, archers, and horse archers firing into the air, not so much with the goal of hitting her, but with the simple goal of filling the sky with arrows and preventing her from getting close and helping her men.

The Dornish left was commanded by Gerold Dayne, a formidable commander, and head of an ancient and powerful house which Grandmaester Arlan had educated him on extensively.

Gerold Dayne, having essentially taken Rhaenys out of the fight, had sent his remaining horse archers to attack the flanks of the Targaryen defenders, shooting up the hill at them.

The defenders had fallen for the trap and attempted to drive off the horse archers, but once they had left their positions on the hills and abandoned the high ground, Lord Gerold had sent his light cavalry to attack them, thundering across the field at lightning speed and catching the Targaryens by surprise.

Aegon realized he would have to intervene or the withdrawing men on the left would be slaughtered, but before he could do that he had to deal with the Dornish center, and he did not have the luxury of holding back now.

The dornish in the center had actually been emboldened by the King's mercy, thinking that the Dragonlord had been trying to kill them but could not control his beast, they were wrong, and after a few torrents of Dragonfire, they fell back, leaving behind dozens of their comrades burning.

With the center dealt with, Aegon turned his attention to Lord Gerold Daynes men. The Lord of Starfall was no fool, he knew that his Scorpions were not positioned to employ the same strategy as they had against Rhaenys, but he was determined to offer at least some resistance, but it was futile, and another line of men burned before the Lord of Starfall angrily ordered a general retreat, Aegon let them go, the battle had been won.

The right flank which had been deadlocked in a melee for so long finally had a victor.

Lewyn Martell had made the rather puzzling decision to break off the shieldwall and withdraw his heavy infantry while at the same time sending his horse archers and light horse forward, hoping the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard would pursue the infantry and be caught in the open by the horse archers.

Corlys Velaryon did charge his men, but the Dornish horse archers, distracted by the men burning on the other flanks were poorly organized and easily chased off by the Lord Commanders infantry, leading to Lewyn ordering his flank to withdraw as well, leaving the Targaryens the victor of the battle of Watersmeet, named after a nearby coastal village.

The battle had not been a decisive one as Aegon had allowed his opponents to retreat and not attempted to completely slaughter them, but nonetheless it had still been bloody.

By the end of it, nearly 2500 Dornishmen had been killed, many in the melee on the right as well as the burning of the center. The Targaryen losses were not insignificant, numbering around 1000 killed and severely wounded, most of them on the right, having fallen victim to Lord Gerold Daynes' trap.

House Yronwood would receive another crippling blow as we,,, Lord Yohn Yronwood, the elderly lord and the last surviving male had attempted to flee the field, his horse burned and in pain threw him from the saddle down a hill, the last Yronwood male dying some days later of his wounds, all but spelling the end for the once mighty house.

Fifth Moon, 8002
Siege Camp outside Sunspear

Aladale Wynch sat at his tent, a mug of ale in his hand, the morning sun of Dorne marking the beginning of another day of siege.

This is not the glory I was promised. The Ironborn reaver thought to himself.

Vickon Greyjoy had promised them glory beyond measure if they followed him to Dorne, with the Lord of the Isles pointing out that since no other great lords save for the King himself were joining the war, they wouldn't have to share the glory.

In truth however, there had been little glory thus far after months of campaigning. They had landed at the castle of Spotswood some months prior, and Vickon Greyjoy had preferred to starve the castle into submission rather than assault it, which was not the way of the Ironborn.

To their credit, they had scavenged some honor by assaulting the village of Olivegrove once Spottswood fell, killing its garrison and many men folk, taking many saltwives and stealing a good deal of plunder, and they had followed this up by assaulting a less fortified keep in the area.

Two rights do not undo a wrong. The Lord of Iron Holt thought to himself, they should have assaulted Spottswood, and now the same thing was happening here during the siege of Sunspear.

Vickon Greyjoy had preferred to remain in Spottswood with a small retinue, enjoying the fruits of their labor and the plunder they had gained from Olivegrove. While the Lord of the Isles leisured in the keep at Spottswood, drinking its wine, killing their prisoners and enjoying its women, he had tasked Aladale with sieging Sunspear, the capital of Dorne, a prospect which would likely mean over a year of sitting around in tents around the sand.

In truth, Aladale Wynch did not hate Vickon, the two had reaved together in the shivering sea, forming a bond which Vickon had used to give him the command of the siege of Sunspear and Aladale had to grudgingly admit Vickon was a great warrior and commander.

He knew Vickon was wrong on this however, there was no glory in besieging castles, starving them into submission, the Ironborn way was to assault the walls, cost of life be damned and take their due, not sit around and wait for it to be given to them.

Vickon can win his glory through mummer's duels…I will make mine today. Aladale thought. Vickon Greyjoy had a rather unsavory reputation throughout the isles of challenging salt wives that displeased him to duels for entertainment in front of his men; two such lorathi women had perished that way at the end of Vickons ax.

‘’Pate….get in here.’’ Aladale shouted outside the tent, causing his younger brother, a boy of 14 with jet black hair to walk in.

‘’Brother.’’ Pate asked, running a hand through his hair, the boy constantly found time to see to his appearance, even in the middle of a siege camp.

‘’Go find my hornman…tell him to call all the captains to my tent and to ready our men…i've sat here long enough.’’ Aladale commanded

‘’You mean to attack….they have three walls…it wont fucking work.’’ The young Wynch asked incredulously.

Aladale gave his younger brother a clout on the ear, and then ruffled his hair ‘’Were Wynches brother….the blood of the Gray King flows through our veins…it will work..I've come up with a plan.’’

‘’A plan?’’ Pate asked.

Aladale nodded ‘’Aye now go do as i've asked.’’

Pate nodded and ran out to find the hornman, who let out the command for all the captains to gather at Aladales tent, Aladale set down his ale…he would need to be sober for what came next.

Once assembled, Aladale explained his plan, he would send 40 longships out to sea. However, they would be manned by a skeleton crew of camp followers, thralls from the Olivegrove, old men and young boys as well as a few warriors to oversee them, the ships would be chained together in 4 rows, allowing them to be undermanned, though the Dornish wouldn't see that until it was too late.

The Dornish, seeing 30 longships, would expect near 4000 men to be approaching by sea and send men to man the sea wall, leaving the front gates weakened, after the sea wall was manned, Aladale would order an assault of the walls with his full strength of over thirteen thousand Ironborn warriors.

Even if the plan worked to draw off some of the Dornish garrison, taking Sunspear by force was still a daunting and risky proposition. The seat of the Martells and principale fortress in Dorne was encircled by three large walls of sandstone, each one encircling the one behind it, and even if the walls were breached, there would be brutal fighting in the miles of winding streets and bazaars, perfect places for staging ambushes. The garrison numbered some 2300 men, a formidable amount.

It took a few hours to have the ships chained together, which were well out of sight of the walls, and another two hours to get them out to sea and approach the sea wall of Dorne. The plan appeared to have the desired effect as a large amount of the Dornish defenders moved from the front walls to the sea wall, though the men remaining at the main walls were alert for the possibility of an attack.

The Ironborn army had formed into a massive horde, obscured behind several large sand hills, Aladale had put many of his own warriors in the Vanguard, he wanted the sagas to sing that the men of his Clan had been the first over the walls.

Aladale was no coward, and he planned on participating in the fighting, but he was no fool either, fighting in the Vanguard was likely a suicidal notion and he wanted to be alive to bask in the glory his victory, so he positioned himself in the third rank, close enough to the front that he would win much renown and have a chance to be at the forefront of the fighting, but far enough back that the risk of being killed by stones or arrows before even breaching the walls was minimal.

Aladale saw no point in a long drawn out speech, but he was of course expected to address the massive army before they assaulted the walls. He walked to one of the hills and stood upon its crest, looking down on the seemingly never ending mass of Ironborn in front of him.

The Lord of Iron Holt raised his two handed ax above his head, a fine weapon with an ax head made of castle forged steel from Qohor, a weapon he had gained while raiding a ship in the shivering sea.

‘’FOLLOW ME INTO BATTLE AND THE RICHES OF SUNSPEAR WILL BE YOURS…FOLLOW ME OVER THESE WALLS AND THE SAGAS WILL SING OF OUR ACCOMPLISHMENTS FOR A MILLENIUM…..FOLLOW ME AND EARN A PLACE IN THE HALLS OF THE DROWNED GOD.’’ Aladale shouted, his purple cloak waving in the wind as the sun slowly began to set, casting a dark and dim orange light across the sky.

The Ironborn screamed half a hundred war cries, ranging from clan words to traditional chants…they were ready to die….and to kill.

The hornmen signaled the charge and the Ironborn emerged from behind the sandy hills, like ants on a sandy field.

They were a good distance away from the castle walls, but the Ironborn made no attempt to save their energy, wordless battle cries on their lips, many of the Berserkers in the front line in a full out sprint despite their heavy armor, following close behind them were around 50 groups of the strongest warriors, carrying wooden ladders.

As they got closer the Dornish defenders began loosing arrows at them, in well organized volleys, striking dozens of Ironborn before they even reached the walls, but whenever a man carrying a ladder was struck another Ironborn quickly took his place.

We are a swarm…a swarm of death, Aladale thought as they made their way closer to the walls. A scorpion mounted on one of the towers struck a group carrying a ladder, its giant steel bolt turning the unfortunate group of men into a crimson mess of flesh and bone.

Despite the Dornish defenders best efforts the Ironborn were too many, and they were able to get many ladders up on the first sandstone wall, though the Dornish opposed them by dropping heavy rocks and pouring boiling tar on some ladders.

As he approached the wall, Aladale waited a moment, letting the men in front of him take the brunt of the stones, throwing spears, and tar before he began scaling the ladder, convinced the men up ahead had a foothold.

The fighting on the walls was brutal, with both Dornish and Ironborn being thrown, kicked and hacked off the wall to the ground dozens of feet below.

As Aladale scanned the ramparts for his first opponent, a Dornishman found him first, yelling a war cry and catching the Lord of Iron Holt by surprise as he turned around, the man, who was wearing a cloth turban that covered most of his face jabbed a spear at Aladale, its point puncturing the heavy steel armor in his chest, but stopping just shy of actually puncturing his flesh, the spearpoint becoming stuck.

Aladale laughed as the man tried desperately to withdraw his spear from his plate armor, hitting the man with the wooden handle of his two handed ax in the skull, knocking the unfortunate man to the ground before bringing his ax down on the man's
neck, taking his head.

Aladale then pulled out the spear from his armor with a grunt and tossed it down into the courtyard, returning to the fray, his armor wrent and broken but otherwise unharmed.

A defender in leather armor and a long halberd stood in his way, but Aladale was faster and brought his ax into the man's arm, forcing him to drop the halberd, before he could deliver the killing blow; however, the man got to his feet and fled, holding his mangled shoulder.

The battle for the first wall went on for some time before the Dornish ordered a retreat back to the second wall, where they mounted another stiff defense with rocks and Tars, but the Ironborn were eventually able to gain a foothold and force them to retreat.

The third wall was the toughest to crack as by now the men that had been tricked into manning the seawall had come to assist in the final stand. Many hundreds of Ironborn were killed and wounded, but eventually they managed to get a foothold on the wall. It was at this stage of the battle that Aladale again faced death, scaling a later when the man in front of him took a throwing spear to the neck, falling from the ladder and almost taking him down with him into the courtyard, which would have likely broken his neck, but Aladale managed to hold on and steady himself.

By nightfall Sunspear had fallen, though some of the defenders managed to escape into the winding streets and ambush the more bold Ironborn that pursued them, but the fight was essentially over at this point, Aladale had no interest in occupying the city, only looting it, and there was much loot.

The Ironborn plundered the Old Palace, taking with them valuable tapestries from Essos, Rhoynar trinkets, and other valuables of silver and gold, though the princess Deria and her household were nowhere to be found, likely fleeing the castle before the siege even began.

By the end of it near 2000 Ironborn were dead or dying, with most of the Dornish Garrison sharing the same fate, being purely overwhelmed by the Ironborns sheer numbers.

In the following days, the surrounding villages, holdfasts, and hamlets would share a similar fate to Sunspear, being looted and captured by the Ironborn. The assault, while costly would mark a huge blow to House Martells ability to resist the Targaryen invasion, and win Aladale Wynch much renown, and infamy for his actions in Dorne.

 

[Thaiga]

This conquest seems pretty brutal. Aegon and Co will have to work really hard to make amends and truly pacify the region when the war is finally over.

 

[Midnite Duke]

The Ironborn have done their part and more. Thank you for updating.

 

[HistoryDude]

Unleashing the Ironborn is cruel and not conducive to inspiring long-term loyalty. I expect many Dornish rebellions...

 

[streaker77]

This conquest seems pretty brutal. Aegon and Co will have to work really hard to make amends and truly pacify the region when the war is finally over.

Unleashing the Ironborn is cruel and not conducive to inspiring long-term loyalty. I expect many Dornish rebellions...

Some wounds heal surprisingly fast, but some in Dorne have lost too much to simply bend their knees, to the point of tragedy. In terms of the Ironborn there was no way to stop them from joining, but Aegon(or Rhaenys rather) will do what they can to repair the damage done by the Ironborn.

The Ironborn have done their part and more. Thank you for updating.

I was surprised that they were the only region to suppourt the campaign, but they have won themselves glory and Aladale will secure a great honor for House Wynch.

 

[streaker77]

First Moon, 8003
The Greenblood River

The air was sweltering hot as the small pole-boat made its way down the Greenblood river, its oars slowly dipping into the murky green water. Occasionally a large splash would be heard, the river was rich in wildlife, with large whiskerfish and birds making the Greenblood their home. They also passed many small farms and orchards, with their inhabitants shyly looking out from these river villages. This region had not been touched by the war but they were still cautious.

Aegon sat at the forefront of the first small ship, looking at the landscape around him.

A beautiful land He thought to himself Land I will be responsible for soon.

The King's silent reflection was interrupted by Ser Garmon Hightower, his Kingsguard who had been uneasily pacing the small ship for the length of their voyage, the young man was determined to catch a glimpse of anything suspicious.

‘’Your Grace….I ask you once again to reconsider…you need not attend these negotiations personally….the Dornish have an unsavory reputation with this sort of thing, if this peace must be attained through a negotiation, let your Kingsguard face the danger.’’ Ser Garmon said, his eyes scanning the horizon.

‘’It makes a poor King that does not see personally to the end of a war he started Ser….and if I must ask the Princess Deria to guide her people and kneel…I owe it to her to have her kneel before me personally, not a stranger….oaths made to one standing in stead for another are feeble bonds.’’ Aegon explained as a bird entered the water beside them with a splash, hunting for food.

‘’I would ask that you at least consider moving to one of the benches your Grace, you are exposed here at the front, any one of these rock ledges might hide a company of archers or javelineers waiting to ambush us.’’ Ser Garmon pressed.

Aegon sighed ‘’We have taken precautions….I will not hide myself for fear of treachery.’’

The King was right on that count, he would not arrive at the negotiations like a beggar and traveled with a retinue that befitted the King, taking ten pole boats, each with at least 10 men not including the crew, most of them knights armored in plate. Aegon had also bowed to Ser Garmons earlier suggestion that he and Rhaenys take separate boats so that if something happened, they both would not be in the same place; Aegon had given his sister's boat into the protection of Corlys and Ser Harold Langward.

Before Garmon could respond, Ser Gregor Goode put a strong arm on his younger companions shoulder ‘’Come Garmon….we will bow to the Kings wisdom.’’

Despite the Knight of Hightowers concerns, the rest of the voyage passed smoothly, with the small island that was to be the location of the peace negotiations coming into view an hour later.

Ser Garmons concerns proved to be even more unfounded when the size of the Martell retinue became clear, the Princess Diaries retinue couldn't have numbered over a dozen men, of which included a gouty knight leaning on a cane.

‘’That must be her crippled husband.’’ Ser Gawen Corbray sneered as their boat approached the sandy island, which stood in stark contrast to the greenwaters around it.

Aegon nodded slowly, over the course of his campaign he had heard of the rather strange husband the young princess had taken as her consort, and Aegon had to admit the man was just as unimpressive in real life as he was in rumor.

The man was pale, having much fairer skin than his lady wife, he had uncut brown hair and a large beard, though not large enough to cover the obvious red splotches of sunburns the man had suffered. He was clearly much older than the young princess, by a factor of almost twenty years if the King had to guess, and he leaned on a walking cane.

What's more, the man was a lowborn, coming from a family of landless hedge knights from the Reach, adding further insult to the Dornish nobles the princess had spurned to marry him since the Dornish and Reachmen were old enemies. Despite the fact the man had sired children on two other Dornish women, it was said the young princess had grown fond of him and taken him as her consort.

The only other individuals of note in Derias retinue were her two younger brothers, Ser Lewyn Martell, the man who had led troops against Corlys at the Battle of Watersmeet as well as Oberyn Martell, a squire. The rest of her men were spearmen, their faces obscured by the cloth that covered their mouths and the top of their heads.

Deria herself did not make for an impressive figure either, she was a rather unassuming woman with olive skin and curly black hair, she wore no crown and was dressed in a simple cloth robe in the fashion of the local fisherwomen.
It had not been a surprise to Aegon when he had received a messenger from Deria, stating her wish to meet and negotiate an end to the fighting. It had been six months since the Ironborn had taken Sunspear by force, and the Martells' position had only grown worse since then.

Not long after Sunspear had fallen, the King's cousin and master of ships Aethen Velaryon had starved the island castle of Ghaston Grey into submission, and the northern coast of Dorne was blockaded by Aethens 45 galleys, the strength of Dragonstone.

Meanwhile near Sunspear, the river city of Plankytown, knowing they would be next to face the Ironborns wrath had declared for Aegon to avoid the looting of their city, contributing some 2000 levies to the war effort though in truth they did little but camp outside their city.

The most damning blow had come at the Battle of Sandgate, the third major engagement of the war, with the others being the Battle of Watersmeet and the Storming of Sunspear. Aegon had wished to avoid more battles following news of the bloodshed at Sunspear and had been content to siege fortresses into submission without the use of Dragonfire until the Dornish surrendered. The Dornish however in their desperation ambushed Aegon's army as he approached the fortress of the Tor.

Unlike the Battle of Watersmeet, in which the Dornish had put up a respectable fight, the same could not be said for this battle, which was born of desperation. By the end of it, some 2100 Dornish lay dead, heavily wounded or captured, compared to only 500 Targaryens.

This battle had been the final straw, and Princess Deria, realizing the futility of further resistance and the poor tactical position the loss of many of their Northern fortresses had put them in decided to sue for peace, inviting Aegon to negotiations on a small island in the middle of the Greenblood River where she had been hiding out after fleeing from Sunspear.

The knights of the Kingsguard exited the boat first, making sure there was no treachery, but the island was small and it soon became clear there were no Dornish lying in wait. Aegon was content to wait, not for fear of treachery but he did not wish to stain his clothing in the murky-green waters of the Greenblood by exiting before the boat was docked.

As the pole-boat hit the sandy shore of the island with a gentle thud, Aegon exited the boat.

If Aegon had expected any sort of defiance from the young princess, these thoughts were immediately alleviated as Deria kneeled in the soft sand, causing her brothers and her men to follow her lead, albeit reluctantly.

‘’Your Grace.’’ The Dornish princess said.

Aegon let them kneel for a moment before gesturing for them to rise.

‘’My lady…..I am told you are ready to make peace.’’ Aegon said.

Deria dusted the sand off of her plain robe ‘’I have a duty to my people……they have suffered greatly in your war….House Yronwood will be gone within half a century, with no hope of recovering, the women of the village of Olivegrove are saltwives to your Ironborn….and the garrison of Sunspear was slain almost to a man, their blood watering the streets…and thousands of my people burned at Watersmeet and Sandgate, many of them to their death.’’

Aegon bristled somewhat at that ‘’This war is just as much your making as mine my Lady…I gave you a chance to surrender…your people would have been spared much bloodshed if you had.’’

Deria made no move to interrupt him.

‘’What happened to the Yronwoods was a terrible tragedy and not my intention my Lady….as for the actions of the Ironborn…I hope you will understand such is war….when I called my banners they were the only ones to answer the call…..it makes for a poor King who would deprive his vassals of their spoils, no matter how roughly gained….you have my word that I shall see to it that any noblewomen taken as saltwives will be returned.’’ Aegon continued.

‘’I suppose that is all I can ask for.’’ Deria said with a nod.

‘’No.’’ A voice from behind them rang out.

Aegon turned and saw his sister Rhaenys approaching them, he knew what she was going to say, he made no move to stop her however, he knew his sisters well enough to know they would always speak their mind.

‘’Every Dornish woman taken as a salt wife by the Ironborn will be released, not a single one will be taken back to the Isles…on that you have my word Princess.’ Rhaenys said, using Derias traditional title, since at least for the next few minutes she still was a princess.

‘’Rhaenys….we ca.’’ Aegon began before his sister shook her head.

‘’When you outlawed reaving in the seven Kingdoms, you also outlawed the practice of taking salt wives from your lands….once Dorne capitulates, those women will become your subjects just as much as any other.’’ Rhaenys said, it was clear she had put quite a bit of thought into her argument.

Aegon grunted at that, in truth he could find no fault with his sister's argument and had to admit that his earlier declaration did apply to the protection of the Dornish women taken by the Ironborn, they would not be happy, but Aegon would see them rewarded in other ways.

The King nodded ‘’My sister speaks true…..you have my word the Ironborn will return the women taken as saltwives….now let us get to the matter at hand.’’

Deria nodded ‘’My Maester has told me the words.’’

The Princess of Dorne knelt on the sand ‘’I, Deria Martell, Ruler of Dorne do submit both my house and Kingdom to the House Targaryen, both for my lifetime and that of my descendents….and with this I proclaim my vassals fealty as well.’’

Aegon nodded ‘’And I…..Aegon Targaryen….first of my name…King of the Andals, the First men, and the Rhoynar, Lord of the seven Kingdoms and protector of the realm do affirm your houses dominion over Dorne for your lifetime and that of your descendents.’’

And with that, on a small island in the middle of the Greenblood, the war was ended Kingdom of Dorne which had been independent since the time of the First Men, was joined with the six other Kingdoms of Westeros, pledging fealty to the Targaryens, thus ending Aegon's conquest.

The war for Dorne had been the bloodiest of Aegon's wars, by the end of the conflict, which had raged on for well over a year and a half, over ten thousand men had been killed and heavily wounded, and unlike the other wars, the Targaryens and their allies suffered significant losses, with some 3500 losses, most at the battle of Watersmeet and the storming of Sunspear.

The Ironborn of course were not pleased with the King's demand to return their claimed salt wives, though in truth they had not taken many as they had only taken one village and city. Their anger was also alleviated by the King rewarding one of their principle leaders. Aladale Wynch, lord of Iron Holt and the man that had led the assault of Sunspear. The King understood that the Ironborns assault of Sunspear had shortened the war by many months and had duly rewarded the man, both in gold and silver and in a far greater honor, Aladales son Dalton Wynch would be fostered in the capitol as the King's own ward, significant for an Ironborn boy from a small house.

One Month Later
Halls of the Aegonfort

‘’The boy is strong.’’ Aegon said, standing over the crib, his hand being grabbed by the babes strong grip.

‘’Like his lord Father.’’ Visenya said, putting a hand on the King's shoulder.

Aegon looked into the crib at his son, the boy was a big baby with the light purple eyes of the Targaryens and a healthy head of silver hair.

‘’The bloodline is secure.’’ Visenya said and Aegon nodded, the boy was not much younger than Nyel, meaning in time the two would be married to preserve their High Valyrian heritage.

Aegon stroked the boys hair ‘’Vaemond is a strong name….a Kingly name…you chose well.’’

Visenya nodded ‘’He will always be your first born son Aegon….remember that.’’

‘’I would be hard pressed to forget.’’ The King said, giving his son one last look before turning to leave.

‘’Aegon….there is something I have to speak with you about….something that must not leave this room.’’ Visenya said, sounding almost nervous, a rarity for his sister which was enough to make Aegon stop immediately.

‘’It is about Vhagar’’ Visenya said after determining that no one, not even any Kinsgguard were in earshot.

‘’Your Dragon is ill?’’ Aegon asked with a frown.

‘’In part….in truth I blame myself….I have been busy at court and have not flown him in quite some time but…Vhagar has always been prone to laziness….it is worse now, he only sleeps and eats…he…he cannot fly Aegon….I tried a fortnight ago but he could not be controlled and refused….he almost attacked me when I urged him to the sky.’’ Visenya said quietly.

‘’What?’’ Aegon said, stunned.

‘’I had a Maester examine him, he has grown too fat to fly, and the Maester fears this cannot be undone……it is almost as if we have lost him to death, Aegon…gods be good I will never fly again…..my negligence has weakened our house…if the wrong ears hear of this….of our weakened position.’’ Visenya said, and with shock the King realized tears were streaming down her face, he had never seen his sister cry before.

Aegon took his sister into his arms ‘’You are the blood of the Dragon…our son and daughter are as well….. regardless of Vhagars condition this will never change….you are the mother of little Dragons Visenya, the future of our dynasty…..never forget that…..you could never weaken our house.’’

‘’What good is a queen without a Dragon…..Rhaenys should become queen, I have lost that right.’’ Visenya said, wiping her tears away and pulling away.

Aegon was silent for a moment before shaking his head ‘’You are the Queen I choose….now and always.’’

‘’But Rhaenys.’’ Visenya began.

‘’Is not you…’’ Aegon said suddenly, the words coming to his mouth before he could think them.

Visenya looked at him in shock.

Aegon nodded slowly, realizing that his choice has been made ‘’I choose you Visenya.’’ He was shocked to hear himself put the thoughts into words but in truth he had been thinking of this moment for months while on campaign, and even when with Rhaenys he found himself thinking of Visenya.

Rhaenys had been his favored sister as a young man, attractive and adventurous, but ever since he took his crown he found himself fraying at both ends, feeling the unspoken tension that Aegon the King needed Visenya more than Aegon of Dragonstone loved Rhaenys.

‘’What will you tell Rhaenys?’’ Visenya asked.

‘’Nothing….I will not set her aside…I will not shame her Visenya, and in time she may bear me children….but I swear this….our son shall inherit the throne….Vaemond and Nyel shall rule what we have created…..I choose you….and them.’’ Aegon said, the words pouring out faster than he could think of them.

Visenya nodded slowly.

‘’Aegon…..I will never ride again…..I will have no Dragon to give our children.’’ Visenya said.

The King was silent for a moment before a small grin broke out onto his face ‘’Well….I can think of one Dragon you can ride.’’

Visenya stood in shocked silence for a moment before suddenly slapping Aegon across the face, he recoiled but before he could respond Visenya suddenly broke out into laughter, the first time he had heard his sister laugh like that since they were children, Aegon joined in the laughter as well before the two passionately embraced.

Visenya would announce soon after to the King and all his court that she was pregnant with their third child, thus ensuring the House Targaryens bloodline was secure.

 

[Midnite Duke]

Visenya, once a dragon rider always a dragon rider. Thank you for the update.

 

[streaker77]

Visenya, once a dragon rider always a dragon rider. Thank you for the update.

Things may improve for Vhagar in the future, as well as the Targaryen dragons in general, though a major loss will occur in a future chapter.

 

[streaker77]

1st Moon, 8008
Halls of the Aegonfort

Matarys Targaryen ran through the timber halls of the Aegonfort, with all the speed his four year old legs could muster.

‘’Hurry Matarys, he's getting away.’’ Lucas said, gesturing down the hall.

The little prince nodded and increased his speed, Ser Whiskers would not evade him for long.

Matarys caught a glimpse of the cat's white fur as it rounded a corner, and with a gleeful laugh the little prince followed, he had never been this far within the keep, which contained many storerooms, kitchens, and servants quarters, the perfect place for hiding.

He rounded the corner and saw Ser Whiskers sitting against a corner, licking one of his paws.

Follow me The cats wide yellow eyes seemed so call out This way

Matarys took a step forward, and then suddenly, the cat seemed to disappear into the ground.

Matarys looked around in bewilderment, they had reached a back wall of the keep and there were no further rooms where Ser Whiskers could have fled.

The young prince's pondering was interrupted by Lucas.

‘’Matarys look over here.’’ The older boy said.

The little prince shuffled forward uncertainly, suddenly tired from his chase but then he saw it.

In the corner was an empty square hole in the floor with a small wooden set of stairs leading down, cobwebs visible, it had not been visible from where he had been standing.

‘’It's dark down there…and it feels cold’’ Matarys said, kneeling and peering into the cellar, he could see nothing past the first few steps and even peering down sent a chill down his spine.

‘’We can't leave Ser Whiskers down there…don't you want to help him?’’ Lucas asked.

Matarys nodded at that, he couldn't leave Ser Whiskers down there in the cold dark place.

‘’I'll wait up here and keep watch….if any of the guards see you going down there they will bring you to your father and he wont let us play back here again.’’ Lucas said.

‘’Ok.’’ Matarys said and, after mustering his courage, slowly made his way down the rickety wooden steps, the cold hitting him and causing him to cross his arms as he slowly made his way down into the dark.

‘’Ser Whiskers.’’ The little prince called out meekly.

Ser Whiskers did not respond.

The prince called out again, and suddenly the stairs were no more and he tripped onto the dirt floor.

Matarys dusted himself off and stood up, his eyes slowly adjusting to the dark.

Around him were several barrels and casks, many with cobwebs on them.

As Matarys scanned the room, he saw a pair of bright yellow eyes in the dark, giving him a jolt of fear.

The eyes were no monster at all, but Ser Whiskers, who appeared from the dark behind a barrel, giving a small meow You found me its eyes seemed to say.

Matarys giggled and ran forward, scooping up the cat in his arms and petting it.

Suddenly there was a large crash and the room was bathed in darkness, Matarys let out a cry of fear and huddled on the ground, Ser Whiskers in his arms.

‘’The hatch fell…its stuck I cant get it open.’’ Lucas said, his voice coming in muffled from above.

‘’I'll go for help.’’ Lucas continued

‘’Heeeelp……Save me!.’’ Matarys cried out, again and again till his voice began to grow sore.

Ser Whiskers joined in with an annoyed meow.

Finally, the opening to the hatch began to move, and slowly light returned to the cellar.

Matarys gratefully walked forward, Ser Whiskers in his arms, as he reached the bottom of the stairs and prepared to thank his rescuers, he looked up and paused with dismay.

‘’Oh….’’ The little prince muttered .

Instead of Lucas or one of his fathers guards, it was Dalton Wynch, his fathers squire, behind him stood his big brother Vaemond.

‘’Cellars are for rats….are you a little rat?’’ Dalton snorted, the boy was 10 years old with long orange hair, green eyes and mean, a cruel sneer sat upon his face.

‘’N..no.’’ Matarys said, his relief at being rescued fading as he was faced with the bully of the castle.

‘’What were you doing down there, Matarys.’’ His big brother Vaemond asked with a sigh, despite only being seven years old, he was just as tall as Dalton.

‘’Well…..Ser Whiskers ran away from my room so Lucas and I went to go get him and he ran into the ground and I went in to go get him and Lucas said he was going to get help and the hatch fell down….I saw some scary eyes but it wasn't a monster, only Ser Whiskers.’’ The little Prince prattled on nervously.

‘’Lucas?’’ The Ironborn boy asked with confusion.

‘’His imaginary friend.’’ Vaemond replied.

Matarys stomped a foot down ‘’He's not ‘magninary…hes real and he's a knight and he has black hair.’’

Dalton started laughing at that, and Vaemond joined in uncertainly.
Matarys felt exhausted, the running and yelling had taken their toll on him, he stepped forward, ‘’I'm tired, i'm going to sleep and have the servants get hot milk for Ser Whiskers.’’

Dalton stepped forward, blocking his path ‘’I didnt even notice your cat…..the last thing it needs is hot milk…look how fat it is…I bet it can't even catch rats.’’

‘’Ser Whiskers doesnt like killing things…he likes hot milk and apple cakes….’’ Matarys protested ‘’He could catch them if he wanted to though.’’

‘’Ser Whiskers is a stupid name…and cats are for little girls….my hound would tear this fat cat into pieces…..I bet its so fat it cant even feel if I poke it.’’ Dalton said with a laugh and before Matarys could stop him he jabbed a finger into Ser Whiskers belly, causing the poor creature to meow in pain and fall out of Matarys arms onto the ground. Dalton then started kicking the cat, laughing.

‘’You leave Ser Whiskers alone.’’ Matarys screeched and ran forward heroically, attempting to grab the Ironborn boy's arm, but the older boy shoved him to the ground with a hard push.

Matarys crawled to Ser Whiskers, putting his body over the cats and curling into a ball, sheltering the cat while Dalton laughed, blows from his kicks landing all over the prince.

‘’Vaemond help me.’’ Matarys pleaded, but Vaemond stood back with his arms crossed, an uncertain look on his face and he made no move to interfere against his fellow ward.

Matarys then began yelling for Lucas, but his friend was nowhere to be found.

After what seemed like hours but was likely only a minute or two, the kicking stopped when a servant approached to investigate the noise.

‘’We were just playing.’’ Dalton said when the servant questioned, his evil sneer transforming into an easygoing grin as it did so often around adults, he was good at fooling them.

Dalton then left, Vaemond hesitated and walked towards his little brother.

‘’You shouldn't have tried to stop him….you're littler than him’’ Vaemond said awkwardly as Matarys slowly got to his feet, dusting himself off and holding Ser Whiskers in his arms, battered but alive.

Matarys sniffled ‘’I'm going to the kitchens to get Ser Whiskers some hot milk…and then i'll take him to the Grandmaester Arlan…his legs all messed up.’’

The little prince then hobbled pitifully down the hall to tend to his cat.

A Few Hours Later
Vaemonds Bedchambers


Vaemond stood in the middle of his room, wooden sword in hand emulating what he had seen Lord Rosby, the Aegonforts Master-at-Arms teach Dalton. He was not old enough yet to participate in arms, and instead could only run through solo drills.

It's not fair…I'm just as big as Dalton Vaemond thought.

Suddenly there was a knock at his door.

Vaemond frowned and placed his sword on his bed, walking over to the door.

‘’Who is it?’’ He asked, he didn't remember asking the servants for anything.

‘’Lord Commander Corlys….open the door my prince.’’ the familiar voice from the other end responded.

Vaemond opened the door excitedly, he looked up to the Lord Commander, who was everything a perfect Knight should be, one day he was going to be like his distant cousin.

‘’Did my father send you to train me…i'm ready.’’ Vaemond said with excitement to the Lord Commander, who looked magnificent in his white armor and cloak.

Corlys shook his head ‘’Not today my prince….im to take you to your Lord father….he wants a word.’’

‘’What does he want to talk about?’’ Vaemond asked.

‘’I believe it had to do with your little brother.’’ The Lord Commander said curtly and they walked the rest of the way in silence.

As they reached the door to his fathers solar, the Lord Commander stopped ‘’This is where I leave you…your fathers waiting inside.’’

Vaemond nodded and opened the heavy oak door.

His father was standing over his fine desk, his arms crossed, a fire burned in the hearth nearby and the fading rays of the afternoon sun shone through the red and black glass of the dragon shaped window, casting a rather ominous light in the solar.

‘’You wanted to see me father?’’ Vaemond asked.

‘’I did Vaemond, have a seat.’’ the King said, gesturing to a leather seated chair in front of his fathers desk, his father took a seat as well.

‘’Some time earlier Grandmaester Arlan came to see me, he told me that your little brother wandered in his chambers, bruised and tired, carrying that cat of his, which had a broken leg.’’ Aegon began,

Vaemond looked at the floor, he understood why his father wanted to see him now.

‘’I went to Matarys’s chambers and he soon told me the truth of the matter…..I know about the business with you and Dalton Wynch.’’ Aegon said sternly.

‘’It was Dalton not me.’’ Vaemond protested.

‘’No.’’ His father said harshly, suddenly rising from his seat, towering over the prince.

‘’But I did nothing.’’ Vaemond exclaimed.

‘’Exactly….and that is why you are to blame for what happened….you sat back and allowed a boy near twice your brother's age…a boy trained at arms to beat your brother black and blue…while you did….nothing.’’ The King said, raising an accusing finger at his son.

Vaemond looked at the ground, ashamed.

His father sighed and paced over to the fire.

‘’Come here Vae.’’ He said, his tone gentler, and Vaemond got up from the chair and joined his father in front of the hearth.

‘’Family is the most important thing we have son….I could not have taken the Kingdoms without my sisters….I rely upon them, as you will with Nyel and Matarys….one day you shall lead our family…and a King cannot expect to rule a family, much less a Kingdom if he doesn't stand up and defend them in their hour of need.’’ Aegon said, placing a hand on his son's shoulder.

‘’I understand father.’’ Vaemond said, suddenly disgusted in himself, he had sat back and done nothing while his brother was beaten right in front of him.

‘’What about Dalton?’’ Vaemond asked, suddenly angry at his fellow ward, he had always strove to be accepted by the older boy, but now he was angry at him.

Aegon sighed ‘’Your mother wanted him sent back to the Isles…but I told his father I would raise him as my own ward until he is a man grown….it may be too late to save him but I will do what I can….I had him disciplined severely with the rod….he will make for a good killer but I fear not much else.’’

The King turned to his son ‘’Now I want you to apologize to your brother….spend time with him….you may not have much of a chance later.’’

‘’What do you mean?’’ the Prince asked.

Before his father could respond, there was a knock at the door.

‘’Balman Hayford here to see you your grace.’’ Corlys Velaryons said from the other side of the door.

‘’We will talk later Vae….now go and see your brother….he is resting in his chambers.’’ Aegon said, giving his son a gentle push before ordering Corlys to send in the new spymaster.


Midnight
Streets of Kings Landing

Lord Balman Hayford made his way through the dark streets of Kings Landing, the occasional torch and the light of the moon being his only source of light.

He was on his way to speak with Brynden Tully, Lord Commander of the Gold Cloaks. In the years since his appointment, the man had ousted every other Gate Commander, with Rickard Tyrell being sent away earlier that year, leaving him as commander of all seven city gates, Jon Darklyn still held control over the city districts but Tully had solidified his position as one of the most powerful men in the city.

In recent months, however, Harlan Tyrell, who kept a closer eye on the gold cloaks after his brothers ousting, noted some discrepancies in the amounts of toll money they were collecting, with profits from the River Gate being much less than the other gates.

He had spoken a quiet word to the King who had met with and ordered Balman Hayford, who had only been serving in the position of spymaster for a short time to investigate earlier that day.

Normally Balman would not bestirr himself to personally investigate a matter, especially at this time of night, and he would have preferred to send one of his spies, but an investigation such as this required subtlety and tact that only a lord such as him had.

He made his way through the streets,his face hooded and keeping to the shadows, he had no doubt he could handle any rabble that accosted him as he wore a sword on his hip but nonetheless it would be for the best if he was not seen.

As he got closer to the River Gate, the smell of fish hit him, despite the markets being deserted. He wrinkled his nose and quickened his pace, the sooner he reached the gate the better.

With his pace quickened, he soon reached the River Gate. The walls were not particularly impressive, mostly being made of timber with some areas reinforced with stone, a few gold cloaks patrolled the walls, their golden dyed cloaks easily betraying their position in the darkness of the night.

The barracks were not particularly impressive either, being a two story timber longhall with a heavy iron door.

Lord Hayford made his way to the door and loudly knocked on it several times, he heard the sounds of rustling from inside, no doubt he had woken most of the sleeping gold cloaks.

‘’Th’fuck do you want…the watch doesnt change for two hours’’ A groggy voice said harshly from the other end of the door, his voice dripping with annoyance.

‘’Lord Balman Hayford…..open the door….now.’’ Balman commanded, he was in no mood for arguing.

The heavy Iron door opened and a man in a leather jerkin with a hastily donned golden cloak stood inside, a sheepish look on his face.

‘’ Apologies my lord……we did not receive word of your visit….have you an escort, tis dangerous to be walking the streets at night alone.’’ The man said, trying not so subtly to rub some crumbs from his beard.

Balman ignored the man's questions ‘’I am here to see Commander Tully….rouse him.’’

‘’Apologies my lord but he is not here, he makes his headquarters at the Dragon Gate.’’ The man said, standing there in silence as Balman glared at him.

‘’My lord?’’ The man asked with confusion.

‘’Then go….get….him.’’ Balman said, his voice dripping with venom.

The gold cloak realized it was probably in his best interests to not annoy the Lord any longer and commanded half a dozen gold cloaks to ride and fetch the Commander of the Gold Cloaks.

Lord Balman cleared the upper level of the barracks, forcing the tired gold cloaks to find other resting areas.

He sat down at an empty table.

‘’A cup of hot wine…..and some buttered bread’’ He commanded a Gold Cloak, who sullenly nodded and went to obey, uttering a curse once he was out of the lord's hearing.

It took nearly half an hour for the gold cloaks to arrive with Brunden Tully, a man with a receding hairline and a thick orange mustache.

‘’Lord Balman….perhaps you do things differently in Hayford but it is considered rude to rouse a man in the dead of night…I hope you have woken me for some good reason.’’ Brynden Tully said curtly.

‘’Have a seat Commander.’’ Balman commanded, gesturing to a chair.

Brynden Tully stood motionless, his face red, it was clear he was not a man used to taking commands, but nonetheless he took a seat.

‘’I wont mince words commander….I have been charged with investigating discrepancies in the tariffs collected by your men at the River Gate….it is significantly less than the other gates….despite being one of the busiest.’’ Balman said, taking a sip of the hot wine, which was a poor vintage to his anger.

‘’I have just recently taken command of this gate from Rickard Tyrell…..perhaps his bookkeepers were poorly appointed.’’ Brynden offered.

Balman gave a small smile and shook his head ‘’I think not commander…..the profits were much higher when Rickard Tyrell commanded the gate….immediately when you took control they lessened significantly.’’

Brynden bristled at that ‘’What are you implying?’’

‘’You know exactly what I am implying…and if you do not you are a greater fool than I imagined…an impressive feat…..you are embezzling and stealing funds from our good King.’’ Balman said with a curt smile.

‘’I don't know what youre talking about…and you would do well to watch your words.’’ Brynden replied, the red returning to his face.

‘’A threat?’’ Balman asked.

‘’A warning.’’ Brynden responded.

‘’How thoughtful of you….allow me to return the favor….I am going to take a look at your books…and if I find one dragon unaccounted for…..I swear I shall have your head on a spike….it would give me great pleasure to put it there myself commander.’’ Balman responded before continuing ‘’I want all your books delivered here…now.’’

‘’No…..you don't give commands of me.’’ Brynden said, a slight pale coloration visible in his face.

‘’Perhaps not….but the King does….I shall go and get him then.’’ Balman said rising, causing Brynden to do the same.

‘’Lord Balman……I..Its possible some coin has been unaccounted for.’’ Brynden said slowly.

‘’You admit to stealing from our King then.’’ Balman replied with a smile.

‘’I…I have three sons and a daughter…all three will be expecting Knighthoods…and my daughter will need an education…..I did it for my family…you can understand that…there's no need to tell the King…you have my word it will stop…i've led the city watch well’’ Brynden said, almost pleadingly.

‘’And you have my word your head shall adorn the gates of King's Landing before you see another sunset.’’ Balman said he had all the proof he needed, so he made his way to leave.

Brynden placed himself in front of him ‘’We can talk about this.’’

Balman shook his head ‘’No….we can't…get out of my way.’’

When Brynden did not move he shoved the commander out of the way and continued towards the stairs, Brynden grabbed his arm.

Balman turned to free his hand, it was the last thing he did.

As he turned, he saw Bryndens sword, unsheathed, in the middle of a deadly arc towards him.

Balman could scarcely gasp as the blade made its way towards him, he moved his head at the last moment but not fast enough to prevent the blade from taking his ear.

He screamed and fell to the ground. Bryndens blows were desperate and furious, Balman recoiled as his leg was slashed, curling into a ball trying to raise his hands to stop the strikes, at last the final blow came, Brynden raised his sword in the air and drove it down on Balmans chest just under his neck, going clean through and pinning him to the ground, killing him instantly.

Two days later, Balmans body would be recovered on the dockside of Fishmongers Square by one of the Braavosi merchants, covered in stab wounds and scant recognizable.

Brynden Tully would address the small council and attribute the killing to a robbery gone wrong, the lord's jewelry had gone missing after all.

King Aegon had his suspicions, but had no proof to formally accuse the commander of the city watch, and following this the profits of the River Gate returned to normal.

 

[Midnite Duke]

Child lunatics are so sad. I am unfamiliar with the mod's mechanics, but the free murder (no penalty for the murderer) of a spymaster doing his job sticks in my craw. Thank you for the update.

 

[HistoryDude]

Well, the war with Dorne is over. I think the ultimate outcome will piss off the Ironborn, though. Aegon isn't exactly encouraging their loyalty.

 

[streaker77]

Well, the war with Dorne is over. I think the ultimate outcome will piss off the Ironborn, though. Aegon isn't exactly encouraging their loyalty.

The Ironborn were helpful but are not necassarily a resource that Aegon would have liked to employ, Aladale Wynch was given some rewards but in terms of Vickon Greyjoy Aegon probably feels he was more than adequately rewarded by being given overlordship over the islands years before.

 

[Thaiga]

The Ironborn were helpful but are not necassarily a resource that Aegon would have liked to employ, Aladale Wynch was given some rewards but in terms of Vickon Greyjoy Aegon probably feels he was more than adequately rewarded by being given overlordship over the islands years before.

A dangerous assumption. Those Cthulhu-worshipping Vikings are not to be trusted!

 

[streaker77]

Fourth Moon, 8009
Fields Outside of King's Landing

Nyel Targaryen sat at the royal stage, waiting for the final day of the grand tournament to start, the field had been cleared of debris and the lazy rays of the morning sun promised that the day would be a hot one.

She had arrived back at the tourney grounds as soon as her father had permitted her early that morning, riding outside the city of Kings Landing with Ser Corlys Velaryon as her escort.

The Tourney had been ordered by her father to commemorate the 10th anniversary of his coronation at Oldtown, and he had spared no expense. It was a truly magnificent affair in which nobles, knights, hedge knights, and free riders from every corner of the realm had been invited. The proceedings had gone on for six days, with the jousts lasting from morning until dusk.

Following each day of jousting, they broke their fast on a magnificent feast with dozens of courses, though her Aunt Rhaenys always made sure to give what was left over to the small folk of the city.

The first few days of the tourney had been exhilarating and the princess had watched every tilt she had been able to, not even retiring back to her tent when the jousts contained only freeriders and minor knights.

‘’Any luck with the egg princess?’’ The voice of the Lord Commander rang out beside her, she had been so engrossed in watching the tourney grounds being prepared she had forgotten he was standing beside her.

She looked down at her egg, its red scales shining in the morning son while the small white spots glittered like diamonds. She found herself not for the first time admiring how beautiful it was.

‘’No change Ser.’’ Nyel answered the Lord Commander, who looked even more pale than normal, his face quite haggard looking even when factoring in the white of his hair, armor, and cloak.

Her egg had been one of two that had hatched within the last two years to the Targaryens, this one had been her mothers Dragon Vhagars, who had made a miraculous recovery from its obesity after laying the egg, even returning to flying. Her mother had given her the egg as she was older than her brother Vaemond. Another egg had been laid by her Aunt Rhaenys dragon Meraxes, though she had not given it away yet.

‘’Be patient princess….it can take years to hatch…but if you keep it close to you than I've no doubt it will.’’ Corlys said with a tired smile, from what Nyel knew he was one of the best knights in the Kingdoms but he had not advanced far in the lists, something he attributed to some sort of illness.

‘’Who do you think will win the day Ser?’’ Nyel asked courteously.

Corlys ran a hand through his silver beard ‘’Your fathers hand Orys sits a horse well….and he is a hard man to knock down.’’

Nyel nodded, she was well acquainted with her fathers hand, whom she had once overheard her father refer to as his brother, as for his chances of winning the tourney Nyel thought they were good, he was tall and broad shouldered and had preformed well thus far, dismounting several young skilled knights from the Reach, hailing from the Houses Edgerton, Orme and Shermer, as well as a Redwyne.

‘’Nestor Royce, Lord of Runestone has served as master-at-arms in the Eyrie for a decade and is renowned as one of the finest knights in the realm, no doubt you have witnessed his prowess.’’ Corlys continued.

Nyel nodded, Lord Royce made an imposing figure in the lists, armored head to toe in bronze plate with runes of the first men etched into them, the man was tall as well and had used his strength to his advantage, winning many victories in the tourney but never requiring those he beat to ransom their arms and armor.

‘’His armor is magnificent.’’ Nyel offered.

‘’Finally, I would be remiss if I did not mention my sworn brother Ser Gregor Goode….he has ridden well this tourney and outlasted all of us…he dismounted Lord Fossoway if you recall, as well as that old hedge knight that made it to the fourth day.’’ Corlys finished, over the six days, the Kingsguard had fallen one by one, though not without winning their share of renown, however only Ser Gregor Goode, the large but quiet bear of a Kingsguard remained on the final day.

‘’Gallant knights all, but you have not truly given me an answer, Lord Commander.’’ Nyel teased politely, causing her distant relative who let out a tired yet hearty laugh.

‘’Nor will I princess…..on foot fights are much more predictable, but jousts rely as much on luck as they do skill, the direction of the sun and wind, the condition of the horse….but if I had to guess I would imagine it comes down to Orys and Lord Royce.’’ He responded.

‘’What of Ser Harwood Fisher….the northman?’’ Nyel asked with curiosity, Harwood Fisher was a young northman and one of the biggest surprises of the tourney. The young man hailed from a poor house that ruled over the region of the stony shore in the North, hardly a bastion of chivalry.

Nevertheless the young northman had acquitted himself well, making it to the final day while dismounting several notable opponents, including a young knight from the Kingswood.

‘’You favor him?’’ Corlys asked.

Nyel nodded ‘’His house is not so great as the others in attendance, but he rides well, none gave him a chance to make it this far.

Corlys frowned ‘’The lad rides well for a northman to be sure….but he is no knight, and he has a vulgar tongue from what I have heard….I would suggest giving your favor to another more worthy princess.’’

At this point, the tourney grounds had grown busy with activity as noble spectators and those defeated in earlier rounds streamed towards their seats on the sides of the tourney grounds, Nyel spotted her father, mother and aunt, riding with the knights of the Kingsguard and her two younger brothers in tow.

‘’I see your father has arrived, pray excuse me princess, I should wish Ser Gregor good fortune in today's bouts.’’ Corlys said, bowing his head, excusing himself.

Her family took their seats around her on the royal pavilion, which was covered by a magnificent silk cover of black and red, adorned in her house's sigil.

Her mother put a hand on her shoulder ‘’You and that egg are inseparable.’’

Nyel nodded ‘’The Lord Commander said the more time you spend with an egg the faster it will hatch.’’

Visenya gave a small smile, taking a seat ‘’It will hatch on its own time Nyel…don't fear.’’

Vaemond turned to their youngest brother Matarys, who did not seem thrilled to be there, it was his first day back watching the tournament since the very first day.

‘’You have to represent our house better than you did on the first day Matarys….people are watching us and if you cry again they will think you weak.’’ Vaemond said bluntly as was his habit. The last few months her brother had been going through a phase where he said everything that was on his mind, honest to a fault.


He was referring to the incident on the first day. The tourney had not been all good as in one of the opening jousts, Lord Commander Brynden Tully of the Goldcloaks had taken a lance to the leg that sent him from his horse, shattering it in a sea of wooden splinters, blood, and bone, Matarys, despite being six years old had begun to weep at the sight.

Luckily for the commander, Grandmaester Arlan had been present for this exact circumstance and he managed to save the man's life but his leg was beyond repair and was amputated.

Matarys nodded quietly ‘’I'll try Vaemond.’’

The first bout of the day featured the aforementioned Harwood Fisher who was seated upon a gray warhorse. His house was a poor one so his armor looked rather unimpressive, heavy boiled leather with gray chainmail over it. He had made use of some of the ransoms of knights he had dismounted and bought a fine wolfskin cloak with silver pendant, his helmet was an Iron nasal helm, freshly forged.

His opponent would be of more noble stock. He was a shorter stockier man with windblown blonde hair and stubble, his piercing blue eyes staring at the crowd. His arms were massive, evident even under his plate armor, which was newly polished. After both jousters had bowed to the King, the man put on a heavy metal helm with long white horns in the shape of a bull, their pearl inlay glistening in the sun.

Nyel recognized his helmet but could not remember his name, Grandmaester Arlan who shared the podium with them seemed to sense her confusion.

‘’Humphrey Bulwer….lord of Blackcrown in the Reach, descendent of Bors the Breaker, who was said to only quench his thirst on bulls blood….hence the horns.’’ Arlan explained and Nyel courteously thanked him.

Her father stood and after letting the excitement in the crowd reach its peak, gestured for the joust to begin.

Both men were given long lances by squires and after saluting the King, rode to their end of the tourney grounds.

With the blast of a trumpet the two riders thundered towards each other kicking up dust, while the crowd roared its approval.

Harwoods pass was poor, his new helmet was clearly bothering him and he struggled to keep his lance steady, the Lord of Blackcrowns aim was better, but the northman managed to get his shield up, sending wood splinters flying everywhere.

The two rode to the end of the wooden tilt and were given fresh lances and in Harwoods case, a new shield, with the sounding of the trumpet the two rode at eachother again.

Neither rider controlled their horse particularly well, they had both changed their horses out due to the fatigue six days of jousting had put on their main mounts.

Nonetheless, Lord Bulwer managed to keep his lance steady, in contrast to Harwood who realized he wouldn't get a good strike in this tilt and attempted to raise his shield again. It was all for naught as the Reachmans aim was true and his lance struck the northman in the center of the chest, sending him flying to the dirt.

A gasp went through the crowd as it did whenever a man took a hard fall, but to their relief, the northman managed to get up with the help of attendants, loudly cursing.

The seating section where the nobility and riders of the Reach had congregated went up in a raucous roar, as the lone Reachman remaining, Lord Bulwer, had represented their Kingdom well.

Ser Corlys had a hint of a smile on his face ‘’See…..he was no true Knight princess.’’

The next tilt had been Ser Gregor Goode of the Kingsguard, armored in magnificent white enamel armor against Lord Nestor the Gallant of House Royce, Lord of Runestone armored head to toe in engraved bronze plate.

This joust went on much longer than the previous one, and after five tilts Ser Gregor was eventually unhorsed, though Lord Royce dispensed with the need for Ser Gregor to ransom his horse and equipment, as he had done the entire tourney and as Lord Humphrey had done with Harwood Fisher.

The next joust was one that the crowd had been clamoring for the length of the tourney, Orys Baratheon, Lord Paramount of the Stormlands and Lord Nestor Royce, the winner would face Lord Bulwer in the final joust.

Orys looked magnificent, wearing black plate armor with the stag of his adopted house inlaid in gold, he wore a heavy cloak of shimmering golden silk and an impressive helmet, which was similar to Lord Humphrey Bulwers helmet though in place of bulls horns he had long stag horns of gold on each side.

Nyels aunt Rhaenys leaned over to say something to her but the roar of the crowd made it so that she heard none of it.

Her father let the crowd go on for quite some time before gesturing for both participants to take their positions, and both slowly made their way to their sides, the crowd clamoring as the tension built.

The sun was in full heat today, and Nyel reached for a glass of iced milk, drinking quickly so as to not miss any of the action.

The trumpets gave out their familiar song and the two large knights, made even taller by their massive warhorses charged each other.

Since both lords were armored in heavy plate, it took them longer to reach each other than other jousters did, and it seemed to Nyel that the very ground itself was shaking under the thundering of hooves.

Both men lowered their heavy lances well ahead of time and prepared themselves for the coming collision.

Suddenly Nyel sensed a nervous energy on the royal pavilion, time seeming to slow down, she saw her father stand up, and heard him mention something about the sun, whose rays had rapidly changed position. She turned and saw why her father was concerned. The blinding light of the sun was clearly centered directly in the direction of Orys, whose helmet was covered in sunlight to the point it hurt Nyels eyes to look at him.

Orys was clearly bothered by it as well, struggling to keep his lance steady and his horse straight, and then just before the collision, he made his biggest mistake. He leaned to the left to regain his balance, likely not knowing how close he was to the collision, at this point there was nothing Lord Royce could do as Orys leaned directly into his lance save try and move it to the side.

The lance struck the Lord of the Stormlands in the side of the helm, shattering one of the gold antlers on the side of the helm and turning it inwards, and sending bits of plate chips flying everywhere.

Orys fell from his horse and landed on the dirt with a roar of pain, and with horror, Nyel realized one of the golden stag antlers had bent inwards and pierced his eyes, stuck between his face and the plate. Nyel couldn't see his face but she saw the red blood pouring from the helmet, mixing with the dirt and the dust and the broken plate into a horrible stew. Matarys, his earlier promise forgotten, began weeping.

The royal pavilion, like much of the audience had erupted into chaos, her father stood, trying to remain composed, ordering Grandmaester Arlan to see to Orys’s wounds, her mother was comforting Matarys and her aunt had disappeared to help the Grandmaester.

Two Hours Later


Aegon made his way back to the royal pavilion, Rhaenys, Vaemond and Nyel in tow, Visenya had taken Matarys back to the Aegonfort as he was too distraught to continue. The crowds had returned as well but the mood was much more somber and reserved than before.

They had moved an unconscious Orys to a nearby tent, a difficult task as it took several men to carry Orys, already a large man, in his plate armor. Grandmaester Arlan had managed to remove the helm and inspect the damage, Orys’s eye was completely destroyed, with chips of the ornamental golden antlers and the plate armor still embedded in his eye.

Arlan had removed the antler fragments as well as most of the chips of plate, when Aegon had asked if Orys would live, the maester nodded and said the shock would have killed most men but he was past the worst of the danger now, though he obviously would lose what little remained of his eye.

At this point, Nestor Royce had ran in, half armored and clearly devastated. He had offered his apologies and stated that this had not been his intention.

Aegon harbored no ill will to the Lord of Runestone, it was clear to anyone in attendance the tragedy was born of poor luck and chance, Orys had been blinded by a sudden change in the brightness and had not been able to recover, there had been no dishonor or malice on Nestors part.

Orys at this point had somehow overcome the numbing effect of the milk of the poppy and woken up, he managed to mumble to Lord Royce that he wouldn't have it said Orys Baratheon lost to the runner-up of the tourney and the only thing he could do now was to win the damn thing, Orys then promptly fell back into unconsciousness.

Once Aegon was ensured that Orys was about as fine as one might expect after losing an eye, he ordered the tourney to continue with the final joust, Lord Royce against Lord Bulwer.

It had taken 3 tilts for a winner to emerge, when Lord Nestor Royce managed a hit on Lord Bulwer that sent him flying, the crowd gasped as it was a heavy fall, but the stocky Lord Bulwer had managed to get to his feet, the seating section dedicated to those from the Vale erupted in a huge cheer that went on for several minutes.

Lord Royce had given his lady wife, Nynia Tollet the honor of being the Queen of love and beauty, a rather unremarkable woman with sad eyes and a bun of orange hair.

Aegon then stood in front of the two men, dismounted by now and facing the royal pavilion.

‘’Lord Bulwer…..step forward my lord.’’ The stocky knight stepped forward, looking more like a blacksmith than a knight without his plate armor.

‘’You have represented both the Reach and your House well….hundreds of riders participated in the tourney, and to be the runner-up is a great accomplishment.’’ The King began.

‘’It would have been a greater honor to win the tourney, but you honor me your words your grace.’’ Humphrey Bulwer said.

‘’I am told you have a son, Lord Bulwer?’’ Aegon continued.

The Lord of Blackcrown nodded ‘’A boy of one your grace.’’

‘’In addition to the runners-up purse, if you wish when the boy comes of age, I shall have him fostered here at the capitol, he shall serve as a page and then squire to Corlys Velaryon, Lord Commander of my Kingsguard.’’ Aegon said.

‘’I would be honored to accept your Grace…I shall see to it on his 5th nameday.’’ Lord Bulwer said, stepping back.

‘’Lord Royce….approach.’’ Aegon commanded and the Lord of Runestone obeyed, taking a knee.

‘’Your Grace.’’

‘’Rise my lord……hundreds of riders took the field over the past week, and yet you alone remain….I name you champion, you do your house a great honor with your accomplishment.’’ Aegon began.

‘’The honor of participating is reward enough for me your Grace.’’ Lord Royce said humbly.

‘’You shall be rewarded beyond just that Lord Royce….I grant you the greatest honor I can bestow upon you…..your youngest daughter will be betrothed to my second son Matarys…..your grandchildren will be niece and nephew to the future King.’’ Aegon began.

Lord Royce looked shocked but nodded his assent ‘’You honor my house your grace….I pray Demerei proves a worthy match.’’

‘’Furthermore, I will send my son Matarys to Runestone to be your ward….you have proven your merit and temperament today….I would not entrust my son to any victor, but you have proven your worthiness…I shall have him sent within the fortnight.’’ Aegon said, he noticed Visenya's eyes filled with surprise and a thinly concealed glare.

‘’I am unworthy of this Honor your grace….to raise a prince…’’ Nestor the Gallant began but Aegon smiled.

‘’Yet it is an honor you will take all the same my lord.’’ The King said and Nestor nodded.

Later that Evening


The King sat at his solar looking at the scroll Harlan Tyrell, his master of coin, had left with him, detailing the expenses of the tourney.

It had been a costly affair, with the King even borrowing money from the Iron Bank in Braavos, something he was loathe to do but necessary for the tourney to be held, since much of the treasury had been spent on further improvements to both the city walls and the red keep, the noise of both projects being heard clearly all the way in the Kings solar.

The debt will be repaid in two years time Aegon thought to himself, well ahead of the 5 year contract he had promised to repay the bank with.

‘’My queen…the King left orders not to be disturb….’’ The voice of Ser Garmon Hightower said on the other end of the door, but the door to his solar came flying open, his sister Visenya standing in the doorway, Ser Garmon protesting behind her.

‘’Leave us Ser.’’ Aegon nodded to Ser Garmon, who bowed and withdrew.

‘’You wish to send our son away…and you dont breathe a word of it to me ahead of time.’’ Visenya said, her voice cold with anger.

‘’Visenya…I did not know who would win the tourney, I would not have sent him to anyone….Orys and Lord Royce were the two I was considering…If it had been a winner I was not familiar with I would not have.’’ Aegon began.

‘’He is our son..and…and he is touched. You know that, he should remain here with his family, not alone with people that do not understand his mind.’’ Visenya said with venom, by this point they knew that their son Matarys was what they called ‘’touched’’, a common condition for the Targaryens.

‘’Visenya…..leaving the capitol is exactly what he needs.’’

‘’Explain yourself.’’ His sister commanded.

‘’Our son is a sweet boy….but I fear we have enabled him, it was one thing when he played with kittens and imaginary friends as a boy of four, but he is six now, with no signs of changing…perhaps leaving the comfort of home is what he needs, he will not be a child forever.’’ Aegon said.

‘’We can help him……you don't need to send him away.’’ Visenya said, almost pleadingly at this point.

‘’Lord Royce is a kind hearted man, much like our son, but he is also a formidable warrior….he can teach our son the balance between the two…and Matarys should meet his betrothed, let them grow up together and the girl will understand his mind and learn to deal with it.’’ Aegon said gently.
Visenya nodded slowly ‘’Damn you Aegon….Damn you…..but you speak truly…..at least give him a few more days of childhood before he is shipped off.’’

Aegon nodded ‘’He will have a fortnight to say his goodbyes.’’


Two Weeks Later
Docks of Kings Landing

Rhaenys made her way to the docks with the rest of her family, light rain drizzling down.

It had been pitiful to watch Matarys the last few days, he had made rounds of the castle saying goodbye to quite literally everyone, members of the council, guards, servants, even saying farewell to servants he had never met.

Rhaenys had no children of her own, she was not a religious woman but she even grown so desperate to pray to the seven on some nights while others she prayed to the old gods of Valyria, but they had not seen fit to answer her prayers.

With the absence of children on her own, she had done her best to help raise her sisters children, reading poems and singing them songs as young children, Nyel and Vaemond had long since grown out of it, but little Matarys still enjoyed those nights spent together, and she always humored his insistence that his imaginary friends be allowed to listen to the stories as well.

It's not right to send him away Rhaenys thought to herself, Nyel and Vaemond would have done well at another court, Nyel was courteous and gregarious, while Vaemond made for a fine squire, but Matarys was a gentle boy and would likely struggle at a court hundreds of miles away from his family.

‘’Can I bring Ser Whiskers with me?’’ Matarys asked as they slowly made their way to the ship.

‘A ship is no place for a cat Matarys besides you are going to the Eyrie, how do you think you will get him up there?’’ Aegon said, Lord Royce was master at arms of the Vale and spent his time at the Eyrie and its wasycastles, though Matarys would split his time between Runestone with his betrothed and the Eyrie with Lord Nestor.

‘’I hear they have a basket they bring food up in, Ser Whiskers would probably be very scared to be put in there, best he stays here.’’ Rhaenys said gently.

‘’What will happen to him, you wont let Dalton go near him right?’’ Matarys asked anxiously.

‘’Ill look after him.’’ Nyel said with a smile, putting a hand on her little brother's shoulder.

They soon reached the end of the dock where a small rowboat was waiting to take the young prince to the galley that would take him to Gulltown, where he would then be escorted to Runestone for a feast and then make his way to the Eyrie.

Rhaenys watched as her brother and sister embraced their son, her brother instructing Matarys on the proper way to greet his escort and what to say when he arrived to be hosted at the feast in Runestone.

Next came his siblings, Nyel gave him a hug and a gift of some sweetened almonds for the trip there.

Vaemond gave his brother some advice and a wooden sword to take with him to the Eyrie ‘’It will be hard for you there Matarys and it will take you time to get used to it, but listen to Lord Royce and he will teach you how to fight.’’

Last came Rhaenys who kneeled down and gave her nephew a hug.

‘’I have a gift for you, Matarys.’’ She said quietly.

‘’What is it?’’ Matarys asked with interest.

‘’Your brother will have his strength and his crown….your sister will be queen one day….but you little one….you will fly.’’ She said quietly, drawing the Dragon egg from the satchel she had brought with her.

It was a magnificent egg, white as fresh fallen snow, smooth as a chicken's egg without a single deformity or dent, as she took it out from the satchel, the sun which had risen to drive off the ran glittered so that the egg shone like a pearl.

‘’It's…its for me?’’ Matarys asked, slowly taking it from his aunt's hand.

‘’It is….but you must be very careful with it, especially when taking it up the Eyrie….keep it with you at all times and be certain to never misplace it….even at night keep it in your bed, if you should notice it moving inform the maester to send a raven to me immediately.’’ Rhaenys instructed. She had held on to the egg for over two years, hoping to be blessed with her own child, but her prayers had not been answered, but if she was going to give it away, now was the time.

Matarys gave his aunt a hug.

‘’I will miss you sweet boy.’’ Rhaenys said, giving the boy a kiss on the cheek as he made his way to the rowboat.

Rhaenys watched as the small boat made its way through Blackwater bay, praying once again to gods she did not believe in that the boy be kept safe.

 

[Midnite Duke]

I do not know whether to cry or smile. Lunatic Matarys will be a dragon-companion. Thank you for the wonderful update.

 

[HistoryDude]

There seems to be trouble within the Targaryen family. Visenya is unhappy with Aegon...