Its true he may one day fly, but things dont work out exacly how you might expect.
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The Targaryen family will suffer a massive blow in the coming chapters, the trouble is just begining
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Finally caught up. Great storytelling. Interested to see what the coming trouble is and how it affects the Targaryen dynasty.
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Glad to have you, the story up until this point has been pretty peaceful, and quite frankly easy for the Targaryens but within the next 2 decades things are going to get much harder and the begining of this (long) process will begin within 3 chapters.
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Chapter 13: Beneath the Dragonmont (Aegon, Nyel)
Fifth Moon, 8012
Courtyard of Driftmark
The burning embers of the pyre slowly made their way into the starry night sky as a warm sea wind from the gullet embraced the courtyard.
Aegon stood beside his cousin Corlys Velaryon as they watched Aethen Velaryons body slowly burn.
Aegon's Velaryon cousin, who had served as master of ships for over a decade had died of natural causes the week prior.
The King placed a hand on Corlys’s shoulder, who was Aethens younger brother and walked to the front of the pyre to address the court of Driftmark, which was joined by Visenya and her children.
‘’I knew my cousin Aethen Velaryon since my boyhood….as children we would swim out to the gullet in the dark of night…challenging each other to see who would turn back first….never once did he turn back in fear….my mother used to say he was half-fish…born to be at sea.’’ Aegon began.
‘’He showed the same courage in his role as High Admiral of my Kingdoms….serving in the role for over a decade….he fought at the battle of Gulltown, taking up command of the fleet after his father was slain in the battle, he commanded the Redwyne fleet in putting down the Ironborn rebellion, and years later commanded my fleet in Dragonstone during the Dornish war, sieging the castle of Ghaston Gray, and forcing it to capitulate….the man was a loyal servant of the throne…and a formidable warrior.’’ Aegon continued, several members of the crowd nodding.
‘’May he be given rest.’’ Aegon said and the crowd murmured agreement.
The King then turned to the crowd ‘’My cousin left behind an heir as well, Daemon, step forward.’’
Daemon Velaryon stepped forward, a young man of about 18 with long silver hair and the beginnings of a beard.
He knelt ‘’You honor my father and our house with your words.’’
‘’Daemon Velaryon….son of Aethen…I do confirm your right as lord of Driftmark, Lord of the Tides, and charge you to continue your fathers role as master of ships, the High Admiral of the seven Kingdoms.’’ Aegon continued.
Daemon rose ‘’Your grace….I feel I am not worthy of the honor…it would be enough to rule Driftmark in your name.’’
Aegon frowned, it was most unusual to reject such an honor from one's King and he would have preferred to have a Velaryon in the position, but he would not force the boy to accept the honor.
‘’As you wish.’’ Aegon said and he returned to stand beside Corlys.
As the last embers of the pyre began to disappear into the night sky, Aegon made his way to his chambers, gesturing Corlys to join him. The two made their way to a balcony outside and sat at a table, the King gestured for his son Vaemond to pour them both a cup of wine.
‘’Not many boys that age would turn down an appointment that would make them a member of the small council and one of the leading naval powers in the Kingdoms.’’ Aegon grumbled.
Corlys took a sip of wine ‘’From what I know of the boy it does not surprise me…some men have ambition…my nephew is most assuredly not cut from that cloth.’’
‘’Still…..it is one more appointment that must be made.’’ Aegon said with some annoyance.
It had been a season of funerals. Jon Rosby, master-of-arms of the Aegonfort had died as well. Aegon had grown quite close to the man, sharing many a dinner with the lord to the point Aegon considered him one of his few true friends, but one morning he did not show up to drill Vaemond and Dalton Wynch. When a servant was sent to rouse him, he was found dead in a chair, a cup of wine close by.
Grandmaester Arlan had examined the wine, and afterwards had shared a quiet word with the King confirming his suspicion that Lord Rosby had been poisoned. As with most poisonings the true killer would likely never be brought to justice so Aegon had to come to terms that he would likely never bring justice for his friend. He had hoped to make Aethon Velaryon the new master-at-arms in addition to his role as high admiral but his cousin had died before he could accept the role. Aegon would need to find a new master of ships in addition to a new master-at-arms now, the main candidate was Jon Mooton, Lord of Maidenpool who had served Aegon well during the conquest.
Old Torrhen Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North had also passed away. Aegon had sent Rhaenys to Winterfell to attend his funeral as well as confirm Brandon Stark's title as the new Warden of the North, hence why she was not present at her cousin's funeral.
Another change to the council had come after the death of Balman Hayford, with Aegon appointing his sister Visenya to the role, the contacts gained during her tour of Essos proving very useful.
Corlys looked out to sea from the balcony, the waves crashing against the dark stone of the castle, rhythmic and gentle.
‘’I am glad I got to see it….one more time, before I will join my brother.’’ The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard said softly watching the waves roll against the castle walls.
Aegon shook his head, fiercely ‘’The Grandmaester has assured me your illness is minor….and he has given you the best treatment in my Kingdoms.’’
Corlys chuckled lightly at that ‘’I never knew you to be one to put much stock into the words of maesters cousin.’’
‘’Arlan is a capable man…and I trust him on this matter….you have many years yet.’’ Aegon responded.
Aegon had been surprised when his cousin was dismounted quite early on the third day in the Grand Tourney of Kings Landing, his cousin was a fine lance and many expected him to win the champions purse.
It had soon become apparent that the Lord Commander was not himself, having a pale complexion, suffering from vomiting and oft times not being able to train with the other sworn brothers of the Kingsguard.
Corlys had attributed this to some seasonal sickness but Rhaenys had been so concerned she had all but forced him to visit the Grandmaester Arlan, who had revealed the truth of the matter.
Corlys was suffering from a cancer that was sapping his energy. Arlan, while cautioning that it was serious, said it was one of the more minor forms he had seen
‘’I hope you are right.’’ Corlys said.
‘’Your book will have many pages yet.’’ Aegon said with a small smile, referring to the White book, a book Corlys had proposed to keep the histories of each member of the Kingsguard
The two sat there for quite some time, reminiscing about their childhood in Driftmark, which Aegon ahd visited frequently as a boy. The following morning Aegon and his family would make the short voyage by sea from Driftmark to Dragonstone.
Three Days Later
Dragonstone
Nyel ran a hand over the rough stone sculpture, carved into the shape of a Dragon. The salty sea winds of the Gullet had faded its features but Nyel thought it had its own type of beauty.
Her mother smiled softly ‘’As children, your father and aunt and I had a game we would play, we would go through the castle and the towers and look for any sculpture or carving that resembled a dragon….I once counted over two hundred I believe….our father…your grandfather put a stop to it when he discovered your father climbing the outside of the Sea Dragon tower, looking for carvings.’’
Nyel laughed at that, she had enjoyed these stories of her mothers childhood, until now she only knew Dragonstone from reputation, but it was entirely different to see it in person.
After the funeral in Driftmark, instead of returning immediately to Kings Landing, her father had decided to take them to Dragonstone for a few days, her family's ancestral seat, thinking the children should see it.
The castle had been an impressive sight as their boat approached, dark and foreboding with the very castle itself seemingly taking flight with all the large stone dragon sculptures along its parapets and ramparts.
The castle was smaller than she had thought, however it was seemingly made larger by the massive Volcano called the Dragonmont that towered above the castle, which had been built into the very mountain itself.
Nyel and Visenya continued along the outdoor walkway, a warm wind coming in from the gullet.
Visenya pushed open a heavy oak door and gestured to Nyel to enter. Nyel followed and looked inside the chamber, which was filled with dark light from the four windows, stained black.
At the center of the chamber was a massive wooden table, some fifty feet long and in some places half as wide, the dark light in the chamber seemed to reflect off the heavily varnished and polished table, creating a sort of glow around it.
Nyels eyes widened at the impressive sight of it and she approached, running a hand down the smooth table until she reached Dragonstone.
‘’Your grandfather had it made for Aegon after he burned a Volantene fleet as a young man, your father was once quite influential in Essosi politics….but his true ambition always lay westwards….Your father and I and your aunt planned our invasion at this very table.’’ Visenya said, a hint of nostalgia creeping in at the end.
Aegon made visits to Dragonstone quite frequently to hold court and inspect the garrison, and Rhaenys often flew Meraxes to the gullet when she found the time, but Visenya was not a woman that liked to leave her children, and had not been back to the place of her childhood for several years.
‘’Why is there no Essos?’’ Nyel asked, she loved hearing tales of the East, particularly those from Norvos, where she had been born.
Visenya smiled ‘’Does it look like this chamber can fit a table that large….I shudder to think of the cost making one for Essos would cost….it would be near 100 feet wide…..though I suppose when you are lady of Dragonstone you can do as you please.’’
Nyel looked shocked ‘’Lady of Dragonstone.’’
Visenya nodded ‘’You were not meant to know of this now, and do not mention it to anyone in the court but your father means to make your brother Vaemond the Lord of Dragonstone when he comes of age to give him experience in ruling….and you shall rule alongside him.
Nyel was silent at that, in truth she did not know what to think about the prospect of marrying Vaemond. It was not so much the concept that was strange to her, she had known what would be expected of her to keep the bloodline pure, but she had a hard time thinking of Vaemond as anything but a brother, in truth the two were at an age where they seldom interacted and did their best to ignore each other.
Nyel nodded and looked outside the window, where her brother Vaemond was practicing his sword play under the watchful observation of the King and the knights of the Kingsguard.
‘’Is that why father has been spending so much time with him here?’’ Nyel asked. She had scarcely seen her father or brother the past few days. Almost immediately after landing her Lord father had ridden with Vaemond to the small nearby village of Derlyn and then to the adjacent keep of Windwrym, introducing Vaemond to the notable inhabitants.
Visenya nodded ‘’Your father wants to teach Vaemond the layout of the land he will one day rule.’’
‘’Does Vaemond know.’’ Nyel asked, the thought of her brother being a lord in a few years was an exciting prospect.
Visenya shook her head ‘’No…your father means to tell him on his 16th name day, and I would appreciate if you kept this between us Nyel.’’
Nyel nodded solemnly.
Visenya gestured for Nyel to follow ‘’Come….it's time you saw the garden.’’
They made their way through dark hallways and open air courtyards until at last, tucked away in an isolated courtyard, Visenya pushed open an Iron door and they entered a small open-air courtyard.
The smell of pine hit Nyel immediately, as she wandered in. Dark trees grew on both sides of the courtyard, while wild roses, cranberry bushes, and neatly trimmed hedges filled the courtyard out. A small stone pathway led to a large obsidian sculpture in the shape of a dragon.
‘’Your aunt Rhaenys and I spent much time here….she used to write songs here, It is good to see the gardeners have looked after the place, it is not easy to maintain with the salt air.’’ Visenya said, looking around.
‘’I think i'll stay here a while mother.’’ Nyel said, suddenly tired, the air was warm and sweet smelling and the courtyard walls diverted most of the sea winds.
Visenya nodded, kissing her on the cheek before leaving to go attend to some business.
Nyel made her way to the Dragon Sculpture, placing her Dragon egg beside her before laying in the soft grass and before she knew it she was asleep.
She dreamt of Dragons, there were dozens of them, in every color imaginable, filling the skies of Dragonstone watching her, she could not understand how she knew, but in her dream she knew that they were long dead though somehow she found herself able to put names to every one.
Their wings created a howling wind which tore through the castle, in her dream Nyel was in the garden, looking up at them the wind beating against her face, picking up so much she was forced backwards, into the stone dragon.
She felt nothing at first, but then the stone dragon started to burn, turning bright red and orange, she reached out to touch it and felt a sudden flash of pain, she tried to pull her hand away but she could not, the dragon was burning her, hurting her.
Nyel awoke with a searing pain in her hand. When she opened her eyes to look at the source she saw that in her sleep she had grabbed her Dragon Egg, it had always been red, speckled with white but as she saw it now it was bright red, like a sword being forged by a smith.
Suddenly the egg began to slowly crack, from all sides, long black lines appearing on the previously smooth egg.
Nyel did not cry out and instead watched with fascination and excitement as the egg slowly destroyed itself.
Some time later, Visenya re-entered the garden, concerned that her daughter had not yet returned.
To her amazement she returned to not just Nyel, but also a small dragon, crimson red with horns white as bone with two long white stripes going down from the horns all the way to the tail.
The tiny dragon flapped through the garden, with Nyel close by, the dragon occasionally stopping its flight to rest upon her shoulders, her daughter scarcely noticed her.
Soon Aegon and Vaemond also appeared in the garden, a small crowd of stewards and guardsmen also forming.
Nyel turned to her family proudly as the tiny dragon perched upon her shoulder, giving a little roar.
‘’The first dragon to be born in the world in near seventy years.’’ her father said softly, his normally stern and lordly face broken out into a full grin, while Vaemond looked equally shocked.
‘’Mother what was the name of the bell in Norvos….the strong booming one.’’ The princess asked with a smile on her face.
‘’Narrah….’’ Visenya managed to say after a long period of silence, her eyes still transfixed on the little hatchling, born of an egg from her own dragon Vhagar.
‘’Just as that bell signals strength…so too will my dragon…I name it Narrah.’’ Nyel said happily.
The hatchling seemed to approve and let out another roar, this time a bit of smoke appeared, mixing with the heavy air from the volcano Dragonmont above them, seemingly standing watch over the event.
For the first time in seventy years, a new dragon had entered the world, though whether it would do good or evil, only the gods knew.
The Targaryen family's excitement would be lessened the next morning when Visenya received a raven from her connections to the south…there was a plot to kill the King of the Seven Kingdoms, and such a thing could only be repaid in blood.
Courtyard of Driftmark
The burning embers of the pyre slowly made their way into the starry night sky as a warm sea wind from the gullet embraced the courtyard.
Aegon stood beside his cousin Corlys Velaryon as they watched Aethen Velaryons body slowly burn.
Aegon's Velaryon cousin, who had served as master of ships for over a decade had died of natural causes the week prior.
The King placed a hand on Corlys’s shoulder, who was Aethens younger brother and walked to the front of the pyre to address the court of Driftmark, which was joined by Visenya and her children.
‘’I knew my cousin Aethen Velaryon since my boyhood….as children we would swim out to the gullet in the dark of night…challenging each other to see who would turn back first….never once did he turn back in fear….my mother used to say he was half-fish…born to be at sea.’’ Aegon began.
‘’He showed the same courage in his role as High Admiral of my Kingdoms….serving in the role for over a decade….he fought at the battle of Gulltown, taking up command of the fleet after his father was slain in the battle, he commanded the Redwyne fleet in putting down the Ironborn rebellion, and years later commanded my fleet in Dragonstone during the Dornish war, sieging the castle of Ghaston Gray, and forcing it to capitulate….the man was a loyal servant of the throne…and a formidable warrior.’’ Aegon continued, several members of the crowd nodding.
‘’May he be given rest.’’ Aegon said and the crowd murmured agreement.
The King then turned to the crowd ‘’My cousin left behind an heir as well, Daemon, step forward.’’
Daemon Velaryon stepped forward, a young man of about 18 with long silver hair and the beginnings of a beard.
He knelt ‘’You honor my father and our house with your words.’’
‘’Daemon Velaryon….son of Aethen…I do confirm your right as lord of Driftmark, Lord of the Tides, and charge you to continue your fathers role as master of ships, the High Admiral of the seven Kingdoms.’’ Aegon continued.
Daemon rose ‘’Your grace….I feel I am not worthy of the honor…it would be enough to rule Driftmark in your name.’’
Aegon frowned, it was most unusual to reject such an honor from one's King and he would have preferred to have a Velaryon in the position, but he would not force the boy to accept the honor.
‘’As you wish.’’ Aegon said and he returned to stand beside Corlys.
As the last embers of the pyre began to disappear into the night sky, Aegon made his way to his chambers, gesturing Corlys to join him. The two made their way to a balcony outside and sat at a table, the King gestured for his son Vaemond to pour them both a cup of wine.
‘’Not many boys that age would turn down an appointment that would make them a member of the small council and one of the leading naval powers in the Kingdoms.’’ Aegon grumbled.
Corlys took a sip of wine ‘’From what I know of the boy it does not surprise me…some men have ambition…my nephew is most assuredly not cut from that cloth.’’
‘’Still…..it is one more appointment that must be made.’’ Aegon said with some annoyance.
It had been a season of funerals. Jon Rosby, master-of-arms of the Aegonfort had died as well. Aegon had grown quite close to the man, sharing many a dinner with the lord to the point Aegon considered him one of his few true friends, but one morning he did not show up to drill Vaemond and Dalton Wynch. When a servant was sent to rouse him, he was found dead in a chair, a cup of wine close by.
Grandmaester Arlan had examined the wine, and afterwards had shared a quiet word with the King confirming his suspicion that Lord Rosby had been poisoned. As with most poisonings the true killer would likely never be brought to justice so Aegon had to come to terms that he would likely never bring justice for his friend. He had hoped to make Aethon Velaryon the new master-at-arms in addition to his role as high admiral but his cousin had died before he could accept the role. Aegon would need to find a new master of ships in addition to a new master-at-arms now, the main candidate was Jon Mooton, Lord of Maidenpool who had served Aegon well during the conquest.
Old Torrhen Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North had also passed away. Aegon had sent Rhaenys to Winterfell to attend his funeral as well as confirm Brandon Stark's title as the new Warden of the North, hence why she was not present at her cousin's funeral.
Another change to the council had come after the death of Balman Hayford, with Aegon appointing his sister Visenya to the role, the contacts gained during her tour of Essos proving very useful.
Corlys looked out to sea from the balcony, the waves crashing against the dark stone of the castle, rhythmic and gentle.
‘’I am glad I got to see it….one more time, before I will join my brother.’’ The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard said softly watching the waves roll against the castle walls.
Aegon shook his head, fiercely ‘’The Grandmaester has assured me your illness is minor….and he has given you the best treatment in my Kingdoms.’’
Corlys chuckled lightly at that ‘’I never knew you to be one to put much stock into the words of maesters cousin.’’
‘’Arlan is a capable man…and I trust him on this matter….you have many years yet.’’ Aegon responded.
Aegon had been surprised when his cousin was dismounted quite early on the third day in the Grand Tourney of Kings Landing, his cousin was a fine lance and many expected him to win the champions purse.
It had soon become apparent that the Lord Commander was not himself, having a pale complexion, suffering from vomiting and oft times not being able to train with the other sworn brothers of the Kingsguard.
Corlys had attributed this to some seasonal sickness but Rhaenys had been so concerned she had all but forced him to visit the Grandmaester Arlan, who had revealed the truth of the matter.
Corlys was suffering from a cancer that was sapping his energy. Arlan, while cautioning that it was serious, said it was one of the more minor forms he had seen
‘’I hope you are right.’’ Corlys said.
‘’Your book will have many pages yet.’’ Aegon said with a small smile, referring to the White book, a book Corlys had proposed to keep the histories of each member of the Kingsguard
The two sat there for quite some time, reminiscing about their childhood in Driftmark, which Aegon ahd visited frequently as a boy. The following morning Aegon and his family would make the short voyage by sea from Driftmark to Dragonstone.
Three Days Later
Dragonstone
Nyel ran a hand over the rough stone sculpture, carved into the shape of a Dragon. The salty sea winds of the Gullet had faded its features but Nyel thought it had its own type of beauty.
Her mother smiled softly ‘’As children, your father and aunt and I had a game we would play, we would go through the castle and the towers and look for any sculpture or carving that resembled a dragon….I once counted over two hundred I believe….our father…your grandfather put a stop to it when he discovered your father climbing the outside of the Sea Dragon tower, looking for carvings.’’
Nyel laughed at that, she had enjoyed these stories of her mothers childhood, until now she only knew Dragonstone from reputation, but it was entirely different to see it in person.
After the funeral in Driftmark, instead of returning immediately to Kings Landing, her father had decided to take them to Dragonstone for a few days, her family's ancestral seat, thinking the children should see it.
The castle had been an impressive sight as their boat approached, dark and foreboding with the very castle itself seemingly taking flight with all the large stone dragon sculptures along its parapets and ramparts.
The castle was smaller than she had thought, however it was seemingly made larger by the massive Volcano called the Dragonmont that towered above the castle, which had been built into the very mountain itself.
Nyel and Visenya continued along the outdoor walkway, a warm wind coming in from the gullet.
Visenya pushed open a heavy oak door and gestured to Nyel to enter. Nyel followed and looked inside the chamber, which was filled with dark light from the four windows, stained black.
At the center of the chamber was a massive wooden table, some fifty feet long and in some places half as wide, the dark light in the chamber seemed to reflect off the heavily varnished and polished table, creating a sort of glow around it.
Nyels eyes widened at the impressive sight of it and she approached, running a hand down the smooth table until she reached Dragonstone.
‘’Your grandfather had it made for Aegon after he burned a Volantene fleet as a young man, your father was once quite influential in Essosi politics….but his true ambition always lay westwards….Your father and I and your aunt planned our invasion at this very table.’’ Visenya said, a hint of nostalgia creeping in at the end.
Aegon made visits to Dragonstone quite frequently to hold court and inspect the garrison, and Rhaenys often flew Meraxes to the gullet when she found the time, but Visenya was not a woman that liked to leave her children, and had not been back to the place of her childhood for several years.
‘’Why is there no Essos?’’ Nyel asked, she loved hearing tales of the East, particularly those from Norvos, where she had been born.
Visenya smiled ‘’Does it look like this chamber can fit a table that large….I shudder to think of the cost making one for Essos would cost….it would be near 100 feet wide…..though I suppose when you are lady of Dragonstone you can do as you please.’’
Nyel looked shocked ‘’Lady of Dragonstone.’’
Visenya nodded ‘’You were not meant to know of this now, and do not mention it to anyone in the court but your father means to make your brother Vaemond the Lord of Dragonstone when he comes of age to give him experience in ruling….and you shall rule alongside him.
Nyel was silent at that, in truth she did not know what to think about the prospect of marrying Vaemond. It was not so much the concept that was strange to her, she had known what would be expected of her to keep the bloodline pure, but she had a hard time thinking of Vaemond as anything but a brother, in truth the two were at an age where they seldom interacted and did their best to ignore each other.
Nyel nodded and looked outside the window, where her brother Vaemond was practicing his sword play under the watchful observation of the King and the knights of the Kingsguard.
‘’Is that why father has been spending so much time with him here?’’ Nyel asked. She had scarcely seen her father or brother the past few days. Almost immediately after landing her Lord father had ridden with Vaemond to the small nearby village of Derlyn and then to the adjacent keep of Windwrym, introducing Vaemond to the notable inhabitants.
Visenya nodded ‘’Your father wants to teach Vaemond the layout of the land he will one day rule.’’
‘’Does Vaemond know.’’ Nyel asked, the thought of her brother being a lord in a few years was an exciting prospect.
Visenya shook her head ‘’No…your father means to tell him on his 16th name day, and I would appreciate if you kept this between us Nyel.’’
Nyel nodded solemnly.
Visenya gestured for Nyel to follow ‘’Come….it's time you saw the garden.’’
They made their way through dark hallways and open air courtyards until at last, tucked away in an isolated courtyard, Visenya pushed open an Iron door and they entered a small open-air courtyard.
The smell of pine hit Nyel immediately, as she wandered in. Dark trees grew on both sides of the courtyard, while wild roses, cranberry bushes, and neatly trimmed hedges filled the courtyard out. A small stone pathway led to a large obsidian sculpture in the shape of a dragon.
‘’Your aunt Rhaenys and I spent much time here….she used to write songs here, It is good to see the gardeners have looked after the place, it is not easy to maintain with the salt air.’’ Visenya said, looking around.
‘’I think i'll stay here a while mother.’’ Nyel said, suddenly tired, the air was warm and sweet smelling and the courtyard walls diverted most of the sea winds.
Visenya nodded, kissing her on the cheek before leaving to go attend to some business.
Nyel made her way to the Dragon Sculpture, placing her Dragon egg beside her before laying in the soft grass and before she knew it she was asleep.
She dreamt of Dragons, there were dozens of them, in every color imaginable, filling the skies of Dragonstone watching her, she could not understand how she knew, but in her dream she knew that they were long dead though somehow she found herself able to put names to every one.
Their wings created a howling wind which tore through the castle, in her dream Nyel was in the garden, looking up at them the wind beating against her face, picking up so much she was forced backwards, into the stone dragon.
She felt nothing at first, but then the stone dragon started to burn, turning bright red and orange, she reached out to touch it and felt a sudden flash of pain, she tried to pull her hand away but she could not, the dragon was burning her, hurting her.
Nyel awoke with a searing pain in her hand. When she opened her eyes to look at the source she saw that in her sleep she had grabbed her Dragon Egg, it had always been red, speckled with white but as she saw it now it was bright red, like a sword being forged by a smith.
Suddenly the egg began to slowly crack, from all sides, long black lines appearing on the previously smooth egg.
Nyel did not cry out and instead watched with fascination and excitement as the egg slowly destroyed itself.
Some time later, Visenya re-entered the garden, concerned that her daughter had not yet returned.
To her amazement she returned to not just Nyel, but also a small dragon, crimson red with horns white as bone with two long white stripes going down from the horns all the way to the tail.
The tiny dragon flapped through the garden, with Nyel close by, the dragon occasionally stopping its flight to rest upon her shoulders, her daughter scarcely noticed her.
Soon Aegon and Vaemond also appeared in the garden, a small crowd of stewards and guardsmen also forming.
Nyel turned to her family proudly as the tiny dragon perched upon her shoulder, giving a little roar.
‘’The first dragon to be born in the world in near seventy years.’’ her father said softly, his normally stern and lordly face broken out into a full grin, while Vaemond looked equally shocked.
‘’Mother what was the name of the bell in Norvos….the strong booming one.’’ The princess asked with a smile on her face.
‘’Narrah….’’ Visenya managed to say after a long period of silence, her eyes still transfixed on the little hatchling, born of an egg from her own dragon Vhagar.
‘’Just as that bell signals strength…so too will my dragon…I name it Narrah.’’ Nyel said happily.
The hatchling seemed to approve and let out another roar, this time a bit of smoke appeared, mixing with the heavy air from the volcano Dragonmont above them, seemingly standing watch over the event.
For the first time in seventy years, a new dragon had entered the world, though whether it would do good or evil, only the gods knew.
The Targaryen family's excitement would be lessened the next morning when Visenya received a raven from her connections to the south…there was a plot to kill the King of the Seven Kingdoms, and such a thing could only be repaid in blood.
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And there are more dragons now...
The Velaryons will prove to be great allies to the Targaryens... or terrible enemies. Valyrians are like that. If they're allies, I wonder if they'll get to rule a Kingdom themselves...
The Velaryons will prove to be great allies to the Targaryens... or terrible enemies. Valyrians are like that. If they're allies, I wonder if they'll get to rule a Kingdom themselves...
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How fares Prince Matarys and his egg? Who is bold enough to threaten Aegon? Thank you for taking me to Dragon Isle.
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Congratulations to little Nyel! Marvelous job, you go girl!
Now to find that treacherous snake that has the audacity to plot the King's demise!
Now to find that treacherous snake that has the audacity to plot the King's demise!
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It wont be the last dragon to enter the world, but as new dragons appear, so to must old ones leave the world, both literal and figurative ones.
Interesting thought about the Velaryons, Lord Commander Corlys's story is far from over and in terms of becoming Kings or Lord Paramounts, the first bit of expansion will be happening soon and it will be in their own backyard so thats a possibility one day, though its a process that will last for a long time.
Both of those questions will be answered in the next 2 chapters, and I enjoyed learning and writing about Dragonstone, its an interesting area.
Dragon Taming/Hatching wont be the only trait associated with the Targaryen that Nyel will pick up, very slightly hinted at in this chapter but she has another ''gift'' though its one I personally wouldnt want. The next chapter will go into the snakes(plural) that want Aegon dead, and they do have a pretty good reason.
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now that an unexpected mod. Hopefully the ai actually does something with it as I find Valyria to be very fun to play in, also very deadly
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Oh, no! Is it
the Dreams
knowledge
Well, Aegon wasn't the gentlest of kings, but he isn't the most ruthless one either, surely he doesn't deserve to be murdered!
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Unfortunately due to the large cost of colonization(1000 gold at the least), the huge variety of buildings to construct, and the perils of saving gold as an AI character its unlikely(but possible) that the AI will make significant progress in the region but as the Targaryens slowly inch their way east, it is something that the right type of King might consider.
Oh, no! Is it? Another Targaryen cursed withthe Dreams?knowledge
Well, Aegon wasn't the gentlest of kings, but he isn't the most ruthless one either, surely he doesn't deserve to be murdered!
Very good assumption, the chapter following the next one will aptly be named ''Dragon Dreams.'' Nyel will forsee some pretty bad events in that chapter and in the future but unfortunately they wont be the most clear or understandable, though there will be some clues. Matarys will also have a small bit of them as well, though not to the level of his older sister. I like to think the reason for Nyels ''gift'' is she was born farther east than the rest of her siblings, thus closer to old Valyria and the powers associated with it.
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Chapter 14: The Dornish Conspiracy (Lord Michael Blackmont/ Aegon)
Sixth Moon, 8012
Red Mountains outside of Castle Blackmont
Lord Michael Blackmont spurred his destrier faster, feeling the hot wind upon his face, the sand stung his eyes but he urged the horse forward, ignoring the pain, embracing the wind.
This is living. The old lord thought to himself before finally bringing his mount to a halt, letting his escort catch up to him. The afternoon sun sat low in the sky, almost obscured by the red mountains.
He stopped for a moment and took in the sight of the red mountains. As he did so often he found himself thinking of his sister Wylla who had died almost a decade ago, the memory of her face had faded from his memory, but still she remained at the periphery of his mind, like a ghost, that would not be put to rest until she was avenged.
I will join you soon enough The old Dornishman thought to himself. Maester Nyles had done what he could, but Michael was not fool enough to believe he had much time left, he was already an old man, and the cancer festering inside his body ensured he would be dead within two years, maybe more if he was lucky.
Not until the task is done He thought silently. He was not afraid of dying, but the thought of leaving the world without avenging his sister weighed on him each and every night, inhibiting his sleep.
His sister had been wife to Domeric Yronwood, the younger brother to the late Lord Yoren Yronwood. He remembered their wedding, and how proud his late father had been at arranging the match. It had ended in tragedy however as his sister had perished with her husband and all the rest at the burning of Yronwood. His maester claimed that the citadel recorded the event as a terrible accident, but Michael named it murder.
He had hoped to be named Derias spymaster, yearning for the influence and connections it would bring, as well as the opportunity to counsel her that Dorne must rise up against the Dragon. However the lady Martell had never seen fit to honor him with the post and one day he grew tired of waiting and decided to take matters into his own hands to avenge his sister….which could only be accomplished with the death of the Dragon King, ordering his connections to explore the possibility of murdering the King.
Michael continued gazing at the red mountains, he could sense his escort growing restless but he had no wish to return to his bed just yet, within a few months he would like not be able to even ride, and returning home to his thoughts would remind him yet again that it had been another day that his sister remained unavenged.
The old man remained there with his thoughts for quite some time before his captain of the guard roused him from his peace with a terse whisper ‘’Lord Blackmont.’’
Michael was about to chastise the man for disturbing him when he looked behind them and understood why he had been roused, a feeling of great sadness coursing through his body.
It is over. The Lord of Blackmont thought to himself, his hand slowly dropping to his sword.
Behind them stood a contingent of mounted men, probably fifty in all, most with light lances, with swords and shields, one of the riders was carrying a large flag, the black and red dragon of the Targaryens stitched proudly onto the cloth. The contingent outnumbered his small escort of ten men.
At the forefront of the column was a man with a long face and pale skin, a ragged black beard and a receding hairline, his black hair tied back behind his head. He wore fine black ringmai, supple leather gloves and a long gray cloak fastened with a silver salmon that covered much of his body as well as the back of his horse. His shield bore an insignia of some sort of fish, a device that Michael did not recognize.
The man rode towards Michael with two guards, and the Lord of Blackmont nodded to two of his men to follow.
‘’I do not recognize your standard my lord…..I would know your name and your purpose in my lands….I received no raven informing me of your visit.’’ Michael said, he knew exactly what this was in truth but he was content to let things play out as they would.
‘’No raven was sent.’’ The man said gruffly.
‘’Nonetheless I would know your name.’’ Michael said coolly.
‘’Jon Mooton….Lord of Maidenpool and Master-at-Arms to our King Aegon…and here on his orders.’’ The man said, and Michael got the feeling he was one that enjoyed the sound of his own voice.
‘’Your King perhaps.’’ Michael said, dropping his courtesy, there was no further point in the farce.
‘’You damn yourself with your own mouth…..more so than you are already….I have been sent to take you to the Aegonfort to stand trial for plotting to murder the King.’’ Jon said.
‘’If you think I will go off meekly you are mistaken…..you will get no fear from me Lord Mooton.’’ The old Dornishman said.
‘’I dont give a fuck what you do or how you go….so long as you tell your men to drop your weapons and surrender.’’ Jon Mooton said.
The Lord of Blackmont then drew his blade, causing Jon Mootons men to do the same, as well as his own escorts.
Lord Mooton chuckled at that, drawing his own blade from a well oiled sheath ‘’You're outnumbered more than three to one….spare your men a slaughter.’’
I'm sorry Wylla The old man thought to himself, he would go to his grave with his sister unavenged.
Michael Blackmont was many things, but no man could say he lacked for courage, blindly stupid as it was.
The old man suddenly lunged at Lord Mooton, putting all his strength into a brutal downwards slash at the mans unprotected head, Jon Mooton had not been named the Kings master-at-arms for no reason however and he brought his own sword up to meet it with a clash of steel. The riverlander then brought an elbow into the old Dornish man's chest while the two were engaged and Lord Blackmont fell to the sand from his horse, his head ringing.
He saw his own men had rushed forward to join the fight, hopelessly outnumbered. One of the youngest members of his guard Dallar rode forward riding straight for Lord Mooton, Mooton caught the boys spear on his shield and bashed it into the boys chest, sending him to the ground where he was soon surrounded and captured.
The fight, if it could even be called that, ended almost immediately with his men surrendering once they saw their lord had been downed, with very few casualties on either side. The surviving men would be spared and Michael Blackmont, weary from his fall and illness, brought back to the capitol to face the King's justice.
To the east of Blackmont, another similar situation occurred, albeit without the struggles of the prior one.
Visenya Targaryen had also received word that Ellaria Toland, the lady of Ghost Hill, a castle on Dornes northern coast, was involved in Lord Blackmonts treason.
The King had sent the hedge knight Ser Neilyn, whom he had met at Wyl during the Dornish war, with a contingent of men from Ory’s household guard in Storms End to sail from the weeping town and apprehend Lady Toland.
Ser Neilyn was an interesting choice to send as he was an unlanded hedge knight of humble birth whose only title was that of the Master of the Hunt in the Aegonfort, but given that Aegon kept no full time executioner, he bid Ser Neilyn to travel as the King's Justice. This decision was made more palatable due to the fact the man was Dornish himself and knew the people.
Lady Ellaria had been taken without incident and was taken back to the capitol where, along with lord Blackmont she would stand trial for her role in what became known as the Dornish Conspiracy.
Seventh Moon, 8012
Throne Room of the Aegonfort
‘’By right of birth and blood…..I demand a trial by combat.’’ The old Dornish lord said, leaning on a cane, drawing forth a murmur from the court in the timber longhall of the Aegonfort.
Aegon was not surprised, it was hardly unusual for a lord to invoke this right when imprisoned, men claimed that the gods would favor the side that stood for righteousness, but in Aegon's mind, the only ‘’gods’’ involved in a trial by combat were the sword arms of the men involved, nonetheless Aegon would not attempt to subvert the man's right.
The King nodded slowly ‘’You have that right….will you be summoning a champion?’’
The crowd whispered in anticipation, the old Dornishman was clearly in a poor state, with his illness and his fall from the horse. Any sane man would elect a champion but tales of Lord Blackmonts brave yet stupid resistance had reached the court and with a man like that you never could be certain. The King hoped the man would elect to summon a champion, he did not want an old dying man to be cut down in his hall, if the man would die it would be swift, any duel would be a mummer's farce.
These fears proved unfounded as Lord Blackmont shook his head ‘’I am not the sort of man to have others do my fighting for me, but I can scarce lift a blade let alone swing one….my brother in law will stand for me….no need to send a raven, he is here in the city.’’
Aegon nodded, he had given the old lord the courtesy of a tower cell, traitor or not he was still a lord, no doubt the Lord Blackmont had managed to deliver a message informing his brother in law of his plans and summoning him to the capitol in haste.
The King turned to Orys, who had recovered from his wound in the tourney, though a cloth sash covered his eye.
‘’Have Lord Blackmonts champion found and bring him here at sundown….the trial will take place today.’’ Aegon commanded and his half-brother nodded and went to his task.
The King had a sudden urge to handle the duel himself, and why not he was capable, he was perhaps the best swordsman in the city, though his sister Visenya could match him and Ser Gawen Corbray would likely prove a challenge, his cousin Corlys would be tough fight as well, though the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard had less energy as of late due to his injury.
His thoughts were interrupted as one of his Kingsguard stepped forward immediately, approaching the throne.
‘’Your Grace…..when I was sworn as one of your Kingsguard I made a pledge that If I should fall let it be surrounded by the bodies of your enemies….I have no plans of falling today but let me make good on that pledge today….I protected the queen from harm during her tour of the Free Cities, and I fought well in your name during the Dornish war….let me stand for you your grace.’’ The Kingsguard said.
Aegon looked down at the face of Ser Harold Langward, the Kingsguard that represented the Stormlands.
The King gave a look towards Corlys, who nodded, Ser Harold might have been arrogant but none could deny he was a skilled swordsman, though Ser Gawen Corbray and the Lord Commander outskilled him.
The King nodded slowly ‘’I will give you the honor of representing me in the trial Ser Harold, make yourself ready for tonight….you shall have the use of both of my squires.’’
A Few Hours Later
Courtyard of the Aegonfort
The sun was slowly setting as both combatants presented themselves in front of the King and his court. The King had decreed the fight was to be held outside, he did not want blood spilt in his throne room.
Some in the court had suggested that benches be set up and a feast held, but Aegon had refused them, he had no intention of the trial becoming a spectacle, it was a trial, nothing more nothing less, but certainly not an event that warranted frivolity.
A cold wind from the bay blew in causing many in the court to mumble about the lack of seating, but Aegon was silent, his arms crossed.
Lord Blackmonts champion was little more than a hedge knight, lowborn who had married the Lord Blackmonts youngest sister. He did not look particularly impressive, having a pinched face, small dark eyes and rough yellow stubble. He did not have a squire so Corlys Velayrons own squire, Omer Bulwer, son of the runner up to the tourney of Kings Landing, attended him.
He wore a long black robe that reached his legs. On his chest he had a heavy padded cloth gambeson. He wore leather arm guards and gloves, his sword was plain yet well sharpened while his shield was freshly painted yellow with the black eagle of house Blackmont standing proud. He wore a leather helm with a steel guard over his nose.
Ser Harold Langward made the much more impressive figure, wearing the heavy white plate of the Kingsguard, a cloak as white as snow upon his shoulders while his face was fully obscured by a plate helm, save for his eyes. Behind him, Aegon's son Vaemond held his sword while Dalton Wynch held his shield, emblazoned with the sigil of house Langward.
The septon spoke a few words, holding out his crystal in front of the sun's dying rays asking for the gods to favor the man who represented justice.
Once the septon had finished, Aegon gave a curt nod and commanded the trial to begin.
Ser Harold began the attack launching a succession of heavy strikes at the hedge knight who barely managed to block them, at the end his shield becoming wrent and broken, He retreated back to little Ormer Bulwer who handed him another shield and he returned to the fray.
‘’Yield…’’ Ser Harold called out and the hedge knight shook his head and the battle continued.
Ser Harold launched another downwards strike at the knight who was unable to get his shield up, the Kingsguards blade hitting the mans leather helm and gliding downwards, badly damaging the steel nasal guard and causing blood to drip down the mans face.
The crowd shouted encouragement from all sides, the courtyard mixing with shouts and the clash of steel on shield.
‘’Kill him!’’ the Ironborn Dalton Wynch cried out.
Ser Farrel caught a slash on his shield and launched one of his own but Ser Harold turned it away with his own shield with a tremendous clash of splinters, Ser Harold tossed it away and waved away the offer of a fresh shield, holding his longsword in two hands.
The hedge knight launched an attack but Ser Harold sidestepped it and the dance continued.
The Kingsguard retook the offensive, launching two more strikes but the hedge knight blocked one with his sword and avoided the other.
Aegon had to admit the Hedge Knight was fast as the man avoided another one of Ser Harold's strikes before catching another on his shield; he was clearly comfortable in his light armor, though he gave up ground too easily in Aegon's opinion.
Ser Farrel, who had been pushed near to the other side of the keep launched his own attack but the Kingsguard caught it on his blade and slashed downwards, cutting the man's shield hand and causing him to drop it to the ground, now both men stood, with only swords in hand.
‘’Yield…I have no wish to kill you Ser.’’ Harold repeated but was once again ignored by the hedge knight whose face was furrowed in concentration.
The two men exchanged blows as they made their way back to the center, both strikes being blocked.
Ser Harold looked much more comfortable, he was able to hold his longsword with two hands while his opponent could only hold it in one due to his wounded shield hand.
The Kingsguard, sensing this weakness brought his longsword in a sideways strike towards the man's left side, it was not the best of strikes, rather slow and clumsy, but the hedge knight was unable to get the sword to the opposite side in time before the blade hacked him square in the side of the neck, cutting through sinew and muscle, spraying blood.
The hedge knight collapsed in a heap, gurgling and coughing blood as red spittle poured out of his mouth before at last he went still.
The crowd began cheering for the Kingsguard who had not even suffered a scratch in the duel, Aegon noted the man's face was filled with no joy when he took off his helm, looking almost sad at his victory.
Aegon had ordered Lord Blackmont to be brought back to his tower cell to await execution, which would take place the next morning.
The King had no permanent executioner so he once again entrusted the role to the Dornish knight Ser Neilyn. That morning Michael Blackmont was taken into the courtyard and sentenced to die. Aegon had rejected the proposal that he be executed in front of the entire city, he would not make a spectacle of justice.
To his credit the man died well, there had been no fear in his eyes as he was led to the block and no move to avoid Ser Neilyns strike.
Ellaria Toland, Lady of Ghost Hill who had watched the proceedings from her tower cell realized a trial by combat was a fool's errand, she had no skilled warriors in her family and the Kingsguard were more than a match for any of her household knights so she consented to a trial in front of the court.
To her credit she spoke well, passionately detailing the burning of her father at Yronwood and the toll it had taken on her house, but in the end it was all for naught, she had no friends on the council and in a unanimous decision the small council delivered their verdict to the King…she was guilty of attempting to murder him.
The next morning she too was executed in the courtyard of the Aegonfort by Ser Neilyn. Ser Gawen Corbray had suggested that they place both traitors heads on spikes outside the city as a warning to traitors but Aegon had refused and had the remains of both sent back to their families.
So ended what the Maesters would refer to as the Dornish Conspiracy….two lords of proud houses lay dead in its wake, yet even King Aegon's greatest opponents could not argue the fact that justice was done both swiftly and fairly.
Red Mountains outside of Castle Blackmont
Lord Michael Blackmont spurred his destrier faster, feeling the hot wind upon his face, the sand stung his eyes but he urged the horse forward, ignoring the pain, embracing the wind.
This is living. The old lord thought to himself before finally bringing his mount to a halt, letting his escort catch up to him. The afternoon sun sat low in the sky, almost obscured by the red mountains.
He stopped for a moment and took in the sight of the red mountains. As he did so often he found himself thinking of his sister Wylla who had died almost a decade ago, the memory of her face had faded from his memory, but still she remained at the periphery of his mind, like a ghost, that would not be put to rest until she was avenged.
I will join you soon enough The old Dornishman thought to himself. Maester Nyles had done what he could, but Michael was not fool enough to believe he had much time left, he was already an old man, and the cancer festering inside his body ensured he would be dead within two years, maybe more if he was lucky.
Not until the task is done He thought silently. He was not afraid of dying, but the thought of leaving the world without avenging his sister weighed on him each and every night, inhibiting his sleep.
His sister had been wife to Domeric Yronwood, the younger brother to the late Lord Yoren Yronwood. He remembered their wedding, and how proud his late father had been at arranging the match. It had ended in tragedy however as his sister had perished with her husband and all the rest at the burning of Yronwood. His maester claimed that the citadel recorded the event as a terrible accident, but Michael named it murder.
He had hoped to be named Derias spymaster, yearning for the influence and connections it would bring, as well as the opportunity to counsel her that Dorne must rise up against the Dragon. However the lady Martell had never seen fit to honor him with the post and one day he grew tired of waiting and decided to take matters into his own hands to avenge his sister….which could only be accomplished with the death of the Dragon King, ordering his connections to explore the possibility of murdering the King.
Michael continued gazing at the red mountains, he could sense his escort growing restless but he had no wish to return to his bed just yet, within a few months he would like not be able to even ride, and returning home to his thoughts would remind him yet again that it had been another day that his sister remained unavenged.
The old man remained there with his thoughts for quite some time before his captain of the guard roused him from his peace with a terse whisper ‘’Lord Blackmont.’’
Michael was about to chastise the man for disturbing him when he looked behind them and understood why he had been roused, a feeling of great sadness coursing through his body.
It is over. The Lord of Blackmont thought to himself, his hand slowly dropping to his sword.
Behind them stood a contingent of mounted men, probably fifty in all, most with light lances, with swords and shields, one of the riders was carrying a large flag, the black and red dragon of the Targaryens stitched proudly onto the cloth. The contingent outnumbered his small escort of ten men.
At the forefront of the column was a man with a long face and pale skin, a ragged black beard and a receding hairline, his black hair tied back behind his head. He wore fine black ringmai, supple leather gloves and a long gray cloak fastened with a silver salmon that covered much of his body as well as the back of his horse. His shield bore an insignia of some sort of fish, a device that Michael did not recognize.
The man rode towards Michael with two guards, and the Lord of Blackmont nodded to two of his men to follow.
‘’I do not recognize your standard my lord…..I would know your name and your purpose in my lands….I received no raven informing me of your visit.’’ Michael said, he knew exactly what this was in truth but he was content to let things play out as they would.
‘’No raven was sent.’’ The man said gruffly.
‘’Nonetheless I would know your name.’’ Michael said coolly.
‘’Jon Mooton….Lord of Maidenpool and Master-at-Arms to our King Aegon…and here on his orders.’’ The man said, and Michael got the feeling he was one that enjoyed the sound of his own voice.
‘’Your King perhaps.’’ Michael said, dropping his courtesy, there was no further point in the farce.
‘’You damn yourself with your own mouth…..more so than you are already….I have been sent to take you to the Aegonfort to stand trial for plotting to murder the King.’’ Jon said.
‘’If you think I will go off meekly you are mistaken…..you will get no fear from me Lord Mooton.’’ The old Dornishman said.
‘’I dont give a fuck what you do or how you go….so long as you tell your men to drop your weapons and surrender.’’ Jon Mooton said.
The Lord of Blackmont then drew his blade, causing Jon Mootons men to do the same, as well as his own escorts.
Lord Mooton chuckled at that, drawing his own blade from a well oiled sheath ‘’You're outnumbered more than three to one….spare your men a slaughter.’’
I'm sorry Wylla The old man thought to himself, he would go to his grave with his sister unavenged.
Michael Blackmont was many things, but no man could say he lacked for courage, blindly stupid as it was.
The old man suddenly lunged at Lord Mooton, putting all his strength into a brutal downwards slash at the mans unprotected head, Jon Mooton had not been named the Kings master-at-arms for no reason however and he brought his own sword up to meet it with a clash of steel. The riverlander then brought an elbow into the old Dornish man's chest while the two were engaged and Lord Blackmont fell to the sand from his horse, his head ringing.
He saw his own men had rushed forward to join the fight, hopelessly outnumbered. One of the youngest members of his guard Dallar rode forward riding straight for Lord Mooton, Mooton caught the boys spear on his shield and bashed it into the boys chest, sending him to the ground where he was soon surrounded and captured.
The fight, if it could even be called that, ended almost immediately with his men surrendering once they saw their lord had been downed, with very few casualties on either side. The surviving men would be spared and Michael Blackmont, weary from his fall and illness, brought back to the capitol to face the King's justice.
To the east of Blackmont, another similar situation occurred, albeit without the struggles of the prior one.
Visenya Targaryen had also received word that Ellaria Toland, the lady of Ghost Hill, a castle on Dornes northern coast, was involved in Lord Blackmonts treason.
The King had sent the hedge knight Ser Neilyn, whom he had met at Wyl during the Dornish war, with a contingent of men from Ory’s household guard in Storms End to sail from the weeping town and apprehend Lady Toland.
Ser Neilyn was an interesting choice to send as he was an unlanded hedge knight of humble birth whose only title was that of the Master of the Hunt in the Aegonfort, but given that Aegon kept no full time executioner, he bid Ser Neilyn to travel as the King's Justice. This decision was made more palatable due to the fact the man was Dornish himself and knew the people.
Lady Ellaria had been taken without incident and was taken back to the capitol where, along with lord Blackmont she would stand trial for her role in what became known as the Dornish Conspiracy.
Seventh Moon, 8012
Throne Room of the Aegonfort
‘’By right of birth and blood…..I demand a trial by combat.’’ The old Dornish lord said, leaning on a cane, drawing forth a murmur from the court in the timber longhall of the Aegonfort.
Aegon was not surprised, it was hardly unusual for a lord to invoke this right when imprisoned, men claimed that the gods would favor the side that stood for righteousness, but in Aegon's mind, the only ‘’gods’’ involved in a trial by combat were the sword arms of the men involved, nonetheless Aegon would not attempt to subvert the man's right.
The King nodded slowly ‘’You have that right….will you be summoning a champion?’’
The crowd whispered in anticipation, the old Dornishman was clearly in a poor state, with his illness and his fall from the horse. Any sane man would elect a champion but tales of Lord Blackmonts brave yet stupid resistance had reached the court and with a man like that you never could be certain. The King hoped the man would elect to summon a champion, he did not want an old dying man to be cut down in his hall, if the man would die it would be swift, any duel would be a mummer's farce.
These fears proved unfounded as Lord Blackmont shook his head ‘’I am not the sort of man to have others do my fighting for me, but I can scarce lift a blade let alone swing one….my brother in law will stand for me….no need to send a raven, he is here in the city.’’
Aegon nodded, he had given the old lord the courtesy of a tower cell, traitor or not he was still a lord, no doubt the Lord Blackmont had managed to deliver a message informing his brother in law of his plans and summoning him to the capitol in haste.
The King turned to Orys, who had recovered from his wound in the tourney, though a cloth sash covered his eye.
‘’Have Lord Blackmonts champion found and bring him here at sundown….the trial will take place today.’’ Aegon commanded and his half-brother nodded and went to his task.
The King had a sudden urge to handle the duel himself, and why not he was capable, he was perhaps the best swordsman in the city, though his sister Visenya could match him and Ser Gawen Corbray would likely prove a challenge, his cousin Corlys would be tough fight as well, though the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard had less energy as of late due to his injury.
His thoughts were interrupted as one of his Kingsguard stepped forward immediately, approaching the throne.
‘’Your Grace…..when I was sworn as one of your Kingsguard I made a pledge that If I should fall let it be surrounded by the bodies of your enemies….I have no plans of falling today but let me make good on that pledge today….I protected the queen from harm during her tour of the Free Cities, and I fought well in your name during the Dornish war….let me stand for you your grace.’’ The Kingsguard said.
Aegon looked down at the face of Ser Harold Langward, the Kingsguard that represented the Stormlands.
The King gave a look towards Corlys, who nodded, Ser Harold might have been arrogant but none could deny he was a skilled swordsman, though Ser Gawen Corbray and the Lord Commander outskilled him.
The King nodded slowly ‘’I will give you the honor of representing me in the trial Ser Harold, make yourself ready for tonight….you shall have the use of both of my squires.’’
A Few Hours Later
Courtyard of the Aegonfort
The sun was slowly setting as both combatants presented themselves in front of the King and his court. The King had decreed the fight was to be held outside, he did not want blood spilt in his throne room.
Some in the court had suggested that benches be set up and a feast held, but Aegon had refused them, he had no intention of the trial becoming a spectacle, it was a trial, nothing more nothing less, but certainly not an event that warranted frivolity.
A cold wind from the bay blew in causing many in the court to mumble about the lack of seating, but Aegon was silent, his arms crossed.
Lord Blackmonts champion was little more than a hedge knight, lowborn who had married the Lord Blackmonts youngest sister. He did not look particularly impressive, having a pinched face, small dark eyes and rough yellow stubble. He did not have a squire so Corlys Velayrons own squire, Omer Bulwer, son of the runner up to the tourney of Kings Landing, attended him.
He wore a long black robe that reached his legs. On his chest he had a heavy padded cloth gambeson. He wore leather arm guards and gloves, his sword was plain yet well sharpened while his shield was freshly painted yellow with the black eagle of house Blackmont standing proud. He wore a leather helm with a steel guard over his nose.
Ser Harold Langward made the much more impressive figure, wearing the heavy white plate of the Kingsguard, a cloak as white as snow upon his shoulders while his face was fully obscured by a plate helm, save for his eyes. Behind him, Aegon's son Vaemond held his sword while Dalton Wynch held his shield, emblazoned with the sigil of house Langward.
The septon spoke a few words, holding out his crystal in front of the sun's dying rays asking for the gods to favor the man who represented justice.
Once the septon had finished, Aegon gave a curt nod and commanded the trial to begin.
Ser Harold began the attack launching a succession of heavy strikes at the hedge knight who barely managed to block them, at the end his shield becoming wrent and broken, He retreated back to little Ormer Bulwer who handed him another shield and he returned to the fray.
‘’Yield…’’ Ser Harold called out and the hedge knight shook his head and the battle continued.
Ser Harold launched another downwards strike at the knight who was unable to get his shield up, the Kingsguards blade hitting the mans leather helm and gliding downwards, badly damaging the steel nasal guard and causing blood to drip down the mans face.
The crowd shouted encouragement from all sides, the courtyard mixing with shouts and the clash of steel on shield.
‘’Kill him!’’ the Ironborn Dalton Wynch cried out.
Ser Farrel caught a slash on his shield and launched one of his own but Ser Harold turned it away with his own shield with a tremendous clash of splinters, Ser Harold tossed it away and waved away the offer of a fresh shield, holding his longsword in two hands.
The hedge knight launched an attack but Ser Harold sidestepped it and the dance continued.
The Kingsguard retook the offensive, launching two more strikes but the hedge knight blocked one with his sword and avoided the other.
Aegon had to admit the Hedge Knight was fast as the man avoided another one of Ser Harold's strikes before catching another on his shield; he was clearly comfortable in his light armor, though he gave up ground too easily in Aegon's opinion.
Ser Farrel, who had been pushed near to the other side of the keep launched his own attack but the Kingsguard caught it on his blade and slashed downwards, cutting the man's shield hand and causing him to drop it to the ground, now both men stood, with only swords in hand.
‘’Yield…I have no wish to kill you Ser.’’ Harold repeated but was once again ignored by the hedge knight whose face was furrowed in concentration.
The two men exchanged blows as they made their way back to the center, both strikes being blocked.
Ser Harold looked much more comfortable, he was able to hold his longsword with two hands while his opponent could only hold it in one due to his wounded shield hand.
The Kingsguard, sensing this weakness brought his longsword in a sideways strike towards the man's left side, it was not the best of strikes, rather slow and clumsy, but the hedge knight was unable to get the sword to the opposite side in time before the blade hacked him square in the side of the neck, cutting through sinew and muscle, spraying blood.
The hedge knight collapsed in a heap, gurgling and coughing blood as red spittle poured out of his mouth before at last he went still.
The crowd began cheering for the Kingsguard who had not even suffered a scratch in the duel, Aegon noted the man's face was filled with no joy when he took off his helm, looking almost sad at his victory.
Aegon had ordered Lord Blackmont to be brought back to his tower cell to await execution, which would take place the next morning.
The King had no permanent executioner so he once again entrusted the role to the Dornish knight Ser Neilyn. That morning Michael Blackmont was taken into the courtyard and sentenced to die. Aegon had rejected the proposal that he be executed in front of the entire city, he would not make a spectacle of justice.
To his credit the man died well, there had been no fear in his eyes as he was led to the block and no move to avoid Ser Neilyns strike.
Ellaria Toland, Lady of Ghost Hill who had watched the proceedings from her tower cell realized a trial by combat was a fool's errand, she had no skilled warriors in her family and the Kingsguard were more than a match for any of her household knights so she consented to a trial in front of the court.
To her credit she spoke well, passionately detailing the burning of her father at Yronwood and the toll it had taken on her house, but in the end it was all for naught, she had no friends on the council and in a unanimous decision the small council delivered their verdict to the King…she was guilty of attempting to murder him.
The next morning she too was executed in the courtyard of the Aegonfort by Ser Neilyn. Ser Gawen Corbray had suggested that they place both traitors heads on spikes outside the city as a warning to traitors but Aegon had refused and had the remains of both sent back to their families.
So ended what the Maesters would refer to as the Dornish Conspiracy….two lords of proud houses lay dead in its wake, yet even King Aegon's greatest opponents could not argue the fact that justice was done both swiftly and fairly.
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There will be many more troubles to come, but Dorne will actually be quite stable for a time
Dalton is not the most likeable of people, but unfortunately sometimes fate in the ck2 world spares those that would be least missed.
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Well, the man was actually guilty of treason, so the Trial by Combat's verdict was accurate.
I knew that unleashing on Dorne was going to have lasting consequences... I suspect that the Dornish are still very pissed at the Targs.
Are the Ironborn getting to raid somebody?
I knew that unleashing on Dorne was going to have lasting consequences... I suspect that the Dornish are still very pissed at the Targs.
Are the Ironborn getting to raid somebody?
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There will be a rather surprising change of disposition of the Dornish to the throne over the next decade
The Ironborn will be more focused on killing off eachother than oraganizing any unified raid.
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Chapter 15: Dragon Dreams (Aegon, Nyel, Matarys)
Sixth Moon, 8013
Pirate Fortress of Sunstone, the Narrow Sea
Aegon sat atop the back of Balerion, a cool breeze hitting his face as he surveyed the force arrayed in front of him.
The Lyseni pirate had nearly 40 galleys in front of the rocky Island of Sunstone, fully manned, the tips of steel spears glinting in the sun and even visible from Dragonback.
The force sailing against them was much smaller, the Targaryen fleet only numbering 16 galleys, their black and red banners fluttering in the wind. Aegon had not yet appointed a master of ships so Corlys Velaryon led the small fleet with some 1600 men from Dragonstone, a task he was more than capable of due to his Velaryon heritage.
The King's conquest of the Seven Kingdoms had ended, but Aegon still had ambitions for further expansion, but he quickly found such a thing was easier said than done. In order to expand, he needed his master of laws Edmyn Tully to fabricate a claim on any land he wished to take, convincing his vassals of the worthiness of the campaign, it had taken many years but at long last Edmyn had fabricated a claim on the island of Sunstone.
The Stepstones were a collection of 9 islands in the Narrow Sea, separating the coast of the Stormlands and Dorne from Essos. The islands were not controlled by any of the free cities however and sheltered independent pirate lords who preyed on shipping across the Narrow Sea.
Aegon had long eyed the islands as a place of potential expansion, not only would the conquest of an island give Westeros a foothold in the narrow sea, but he also had to think of the future. His son Vaemond would hold Dragonstone upon his 16th nameday, but it would not be long before his second son Matarys was of age. He had not seen his son in many years, but he hoped that the time spent under Nestor Royces tutelage had toughened the boy up. One island was no fit inheritance for his second son but it was a start, in time perhaps he could set up his son as Lord Paramount of the Stepstones.
Before he could do any of that however, the pirates first needed to be destroyed. The lysene pirate lord Mero was not alone, when news had reached the Stepstones that the Dragonlord planned to attack, they had formed a coalition, with over 4000 pirates assembled to defend Sunstone with more on the way.
The King had taken Balerion high into the sky, where he doubted even the Pirates could see him, the plan was that the Pirates would see the small targaryen fleet which they outnumbered over two to one and leave the shelter of their rocky coves to open sea.
The pirates did just that, with the King hearing the faint sound of trumpets signaling the pirate fleet forward to attack the Targaryens.
Aegon planned to use a similar tactic as he had in the courtyard of Yronwood, diving straight down with the sun at his back, obscuring the defender's vision.
He waited until the ships were directly under him and urged Balerion downwards, the sounds of fighting evident below as the pirates and the men of Dragonstone began boarding one another.
Aegon spotted his first target and hurtled downwards. Balerions wing encased the ship in shadow, causing the unfortunate sailors on the boat to look up in horror as the black dread descended upon them, bathing the wooden ship in flames. Pirates screamed in pain as they shared in the flames, many jumping into the narrow sea in a futile attempt to put out the flames.
The pirates of the Stepstones were many things, but brave was not one of them. Immediately after seeing Balerion appear from the sky, the ships began to flee in all directions, some back to Sunstone and others fleeing to other nearby hideouts.
Aegon took two more ships before turning his attention to the island, leaving the wooden carcasses to slowly sink into the narrow sea, their crew along with them. The surviving Targaryen ships followed Aegon towards shore, though their work for the day was done.
The King flew towards the keep of sunstone, a small squat keep of stone with wooden towers, he had sworn to never again subject the castles of his people to Dragonfire after the tragedy of Yronwood,however this pledge did not apply to Pirates, the castle was largely deserted when Aegon bathed it in flame, killing the few that did oppose him and burning much of the keep. He was aware it was rather unnecessary and it would take years to repair, making for a poor inheritance for Matarys but he needed to teach the pirates a lesson and there were other islands he could gift his son.
By the end of it 7 pirate galleys lay at the bottom of the narrow sea, along with over 600 men, a further 100 pirates burnt in the castle. The victory had not been bloodless however, the pirates had managed to sink 4 of the 16 Targaryen ships, though luckily Corlys and his Kingsguard were unharmed, though the same could not be said for near 400 Dragonstone men, who had been killed, heavily wounded, or went missing under the waves.
Nonetheless, Sunstone had fallen, and King Aegon had his foothold in the narrow sea, securing an important strategic position.
First Moon, 8014
Nyels Chambers, The Aegonfort
Stinging droplets of rain assaulted Nyels eyes, like shards of ice, she tried to cover her eyes but it was useless, the rain was unending.
She rubbed her eyes, holding her hands above her head and winning her some respite but even with the rain clear from her eyes she could barely see, the air was pitch black.
All around her the air shrieked a ghostly howl. She heard voices , shouts and yells but could not hear the words over the wind. The voices seemed close yet far away at the same time, echoing wordless cries.
Suddenly she was in the air and saw nothing but dark below, a lion, fat with a matted yellow mane stood, mouth agape, descending into the darkness, the stench of death filling Nyels nose and mouth.
She heard it before she saw it, an unhuman roar as a massive black shape hurtled down into the dark, towards her, eyes red as flames.
Dread She thought, the words entering her mind unbidden, as the dark shape approached fast, wind and rain clamoring on its side, she could scare stand the sound anymore and put her hands over her ears, crying for it to stop.
Nyel awoke in a cold sweat, frantically looking around her bedchamber, but there was no dark shape or howling winds….just the silence of the night.
Matarys Chamber, The Eyrie
The sound was the first thing he noticed, sharp and rhythmic like metal on a whetstone, softly at first then louder, till the sound filled his mind clamoring like a beating drum.
He saw the glimmer of a sword in the distance slowly fading until it was no more.
Matarys fumbled through the darkness unable to see anything, the world around him rocking, his balance unsteady.
Shards of wood flew about him, cutting his arms and legs, stumbling as he made his way forward in the oily black of night.
He heard and felt it before he saw it, a great burst of wind and the heavy crack of wings, a roar filling the air, a dark shape in the air, but no matter how hard he looked he could not see it.
Suddenly out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of white, smooth as snow and pale as the moon, rolling away from him
It was his Dragon Egg, disappearing into the darkness, a moon in a sea of black.
He chased after it and suddenly he was falling, a crescent moon in the sky growing farther and farther away.
He looked up and saw with terror the huge dark shape was following him down into the darkness, dark red eyes fixed on him, he screamed but no words came out and he felt the air leaving his body, his lungs close to bursting.
He saw his egg and with the last of his strength reached towards it, but the moment he touched it long cracks appeared, slowly overtaking its smooth surface until a deafening crash destroyed it.
Matarys woke up with a shout……and was greeted with the sight of a dragon on his chest, eyes of blue ice staring into his, the remains of the dragon egg scattered at his bedside.
It was small, only about the size of his old cat Ser Whiskers, but it was white as fresh fallen snow, its scales thin as ringmail. He had seen his parents' dragons as well as the bronze dragon of his aunt Rhaenys, but this dragon was the most majestic thing he had ever seen, cat sized or no.
His heart still pounding from his dream, he reached out a chubby hand towards the dragon.
Moondancer He thought, the image of the moon in his dream burned into his mind, the Dragon recoiled at his touch however and flew to the other end of the room, hissing.
Matarys supposed he should be happy, his dragon egg had hatched, he had even seen it in his dreams, but he had a feeling in the pit of his stomach that the hatching of his dragon had not explained what he had seen, no matter how hard he tried to put the dream from his mind he could not escape the images, the moon fading into black, the dark shape, the sound of a sword being sharpened, Matarys did not know what to make of it, but he was sure it was nothing good.
Pirate Fortress of Sunstone, the Narrow Sea
Aegon sat atop the back of Balerion, a cool breeze hitting his face as he surveyed the force arrayed in front of him.
The Lyseni pirate had nearly 40 galleys in front of the rocky Island of Sunstone, fully manned, the tips of steel spears glinting in the sun and even visible from Dragonback.
The force sailing against them was much smaller, the Targaryen fleet only numbering 16 galleys, their black and red banners fluttering in the wind. Aegon had not yet appointed a master of ships so Corlys Velaryon led the small fleet with some 1600 men from Dragonstone, a task he was more than capable of due to his Velaryon heritage.
The King's conquest of the Seven Kingdoms had ended, but Aegon still had ambitions for further expansion, but he quickly found such a thing was easier said than done. In order to expand, he needed his master of laws Edmyn Tully to fabricate a claim on any land he wished to take, convincing his vassals of the worthiness of the campaign, it had taken many years but at long last Edmyn had fabricated a claim on the island of Sunstone.
The Stepstones were a collection of 9 islands in the Narrow Sea, separating the coast of the Stormlands and Dorne from Essos. The islands were not controlled by any of the free cities however and sheltered independent pirate lords who preyed on shipping across the Narrow Sea.
Aegon had long eyed the islands as a place of potential expansion, not only would the conquest of an island give Westeros a foothold in the narrow sea, but he also had to think of the future. His son Vaemond would hold Dragonstone upon his 16th nameday, but it would not be long before his second son Matarys was of age. He had not seen his son in many years, but he hoped that the time spent under Nestor Royces tutelage had toughened the boy up. One island was no fit inheritance for his second son but it was a start, in time perhaps he could set up his son as Lord Paramount of the Stepstones.
Before he could do any of that however, the pirates first needed to be destroyed. The lysene pirate lord Mero was not alone, when news had reached the Stepstones that the Dragonlord planned to attack, they had formed a coalition, with over 4000 pirates assembled to defend Sunstone with more on the way.
The King had taken Balerion high into the sky, where he doubted even the Pirates could see him, the plan was that the Pirates would see the small targaryen fleet which they outnumbered over two to one and leave the shelter of their rocky coves to open sea.
The pirates did just that, with the King hearing the faint sound of trumpets signaling the pirate fleet forward to attack the Targaryens.
Aegon planned to use a similar tactic as he had in the courtyard of Yronwood, diving straight down with the sun at his back, obscuring the defender's vision.
He waited until the ships were directly under him and urged Balerion downwards, the sounds of fighting evident below as the pirates and the men of Dragonstone began boarding one another.
Aegon spotted his first target and hurtled downwards. Balerions wing encased the ship in shadow, causing the unfortunate sailors on the boat to look up in horror as the black dread descended upon them, bathing the wooden ship in flames. Pirates screamed in pain as they shared in the flames, many jumping into the narrow sea in a futile attempt to put out the flames.
The pirates of the Stepstones were many things, but brave was not one of them. Immediately after seeing Balerion appear from the sky, the ships began to flee in all directions, some back to Sunstone and others fleeing to other nearby hideouts.
Aegon took two more ships before turning his attention to the island, leaving the wooden carcasses to slowly sink into the narrow sea, their crew along with them. The surviving Targaryen ships followed Aegon towards shore, though their work for the day was done.
The King flew towards the keep of sunstone, a small squat keep of stone with wooden towers, he had sworn to never again subject the castles of his people to Dragonfire after the tragedy of Yronwood,however this pledge did not apply to Pirates, the castle was largely deserted when Aegon bathed it in flame, killing the few that did oppose him and burning much of the keep. He was aware it was rather unnecessary and it would take years to repair, making for a poor inheritance for Matarys but he needed to teach the pirates a lesson and there were other islands he could gift his son.
By the end of it 7 pirate galleys lay at the bottom of the narrow sea, along with over 600 men, a further 100 pirates burnt in the castle. The victory had not been bloodless however, the pirates had managed to sink 4 of the 16 Targaryen ships, though luckily Corlys and his Kingsguard were unharmed, though the same could not be said for near 400 Dragonstone men, who had been killed, heavily wounded, or went missing under the waves.
Nonetheless, Sunstone had fallen, and King Aegon had his foothold in the narrow sea, securing an important strategic position.
First Moon, 8014
Nyels Chambers, The Aegonfort
Stinging droplets of rain assaulted Nyels eyes, like shards of ice, she tried to cover her eyes but it was useless, the rain was unending.
She rubbed her eyes, holding her hands above her head and winning her some respite but even with the rain clear from her eyes she could barely see, the air was pitch black.
All around her the air shrieked a ghostly howl. She heard voices , shouts and yells but could not hear the words over the wind. The voices seemed close yet far away at the same time, echoing wordless cries.
Suddenly she was in the air and saw nothing but dark below, a lion, fat with a matted yellow mane stood, mouth agape, descending into the darkness, the stench of death filling Nyels nose and mouth.
She heard it before she saw it, an unhuman roar as a massive black shape hurtled down into the dark, towards her, eyes red as flames.
Dread She thought, the words entering her mind unbidden, as the dark shape approached fast, wind and rain clamoring on its side, she could scare stand the sound anymore and put her hands over her ears, crying for it to stop.
Nyel awoke in a cold sweat, frantically looking around her bedchamber, but there was no dark shape or howling winds….just the silence of the night.
Matarys Chamber, The Eyrie
The sound was the first thing he noticed, sharp and rhythmic like metal on a whetstone, softly at first then louder, till the sound filled his mind clamoring like a beating drum.
He saw the glimmer of a sword in the distance slowly fading until it was no more.
Matarys fumbled through the darkness unable to see anything, the world around him rocking, his balance unsteady.
Shards of wood flew about him, cutting his arms and legs, stumbling as he made his way forward in the oily black of night.
He heard and felt it before he saw it, a great burst of wind and the heavy crack of wings, a roar filling the air, a dark shape in the air, but no matter how hard he looked he could not see it.
Suddenly out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of white, smooth as snow and pale as the moon, rolling away from him
It was his Dragon Egg, disappearing into the darkness, a moon in a sea of black.
He chased after it and suddenly he was falling, a crescent moon in the sky growing farther and farther away.
He looked up and saw with terror the huge dark shape was following him down into the darkness, dark red eyes fixed on him, he screamed but no words came out and he felt the air leaving his body, his lungs close to bursting.
He saw his egg and with the last of his strength reached towards it, but the moment he touched it long cracks appeared, slowly overtaking its smooth surface until a deafening crash destroyed it.
Matarys woke up with a shout……and was greeted with the sight of a dragon on his chest, eyes of blue ice staring into his, the remains of the dragon egg scattered at his bedside.
It was small, only about the size of his old cat Ser Whiskers, but it was white as fresh fallen snow, its scales thin as ringmail. He had seen his parents' dragons as well as the bronze dragon of his aunt Rhaenys, but this dragon was the most majestic thing he had ever seen, cat sized or no.
His heart still pounding from his dream, he reached out a chubby hand towards the dragon.
Moondancer He thought, the image of the moon in his dream burned into his mind, the Dragon recoiled at his touch however and flew to the other end of the room, hissing.
Matarys supposed he should be happy, his dragon egg had hatched, he had even seen it in his dreams, but he had a feeling in the pit of his stomach that the hatching of his dragon had not explained what he had seen, no matter how hard he tried to put the dream from his mind he could not escape the images, the moon fading into black, the dark shape, the sound of a sword being sharpened, Matarys did not know what to make of it, but he was sure it was nothing good.
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