Yang Wen-Li dies at the hands of the Earth Cult after his final battle with Emperor Reinhard. But rather than being sent to the afterlife, he is reborn as the younger twin brother of the Mad King. Can the magician save his new family and the world?
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The Magician and the dragons (An ASOIAF/Legend of the galactic heroes crossover
- Thread starter Alenco98
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The Magician and the dragons (An ASOIAF/Legend of the galactic heroes crossover)
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Summerhall
Alenco98
Getting sticky.
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"I'm sorry, Frederica. I'm sorry, Julian. I'm sorry, everyone." Admiral Yang Wen-Li's strength left him as he felt his body go limp, he took a shallow breath as he closed his eyes and his consciousness faded.
--
14 years later
Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen's concentration was broken by a knock on the door. He stoped was he was doing, glancing over at the door. "Just a moment."
He turned back to what he was doing, finishing the sentence on a treatise he'd been working on regarding the political conditions that led to the dance of the dragons. "Seven hells brother, mother said you were to join us for breakfast." A familiar voice rang out from beyond the door, his elder twin brother Aerys.
Jaehaerys put his quill down and sighed, he stood from his chair and yawned, it was only then that he realized the sun was almost fully up in the sky and that he was late. He looked down and realized he was still in his small clothes just as another series of knocks hit his doors. "For sevens sake brother are you even alive?"
"Just a moment, let me get changed."
"Typical." He heard laughter through the door as he searched through his wardrobe and put on his clothes. He put on something simple, red trousers and a red velvet doublet. Once he he was changed he put on his boots and made his way across the room, trying to not trip on all the books scattered through the floor and reminding himself to give them back to the maester once he was done.
He opened the door, finding his brother with a bored expression. "About damn time you finished." He glanced into the room and laughed. "Seven hells, were you researching again?"
"I was, I told you brother, I'm writing a treatise o-"
"Yes, yes." His twin cut him off. "The inevitability of the Dance of the Dragons and the political failures of King Jaehaerys. You've told us all about it already. Now come on, we're all waiting for you so we can break our fast. Hurry up, I'm hungry."
He followed his brother down the halls of the castle. Summerhall as the name implied was used by his family as a sort of summer palace. Though the castle didn't have a massive library unlike the one in Kings landing, he still preferred the castle over the smell of the capital.
They arrived at the main hall, where he was met by the stares of his extended family. "Good news everyone." Aerys beamed as he followed him into the room. "I found my twin, he was lost under his books once again."
"Its good that you could join us." His grandfather, King Aegon the fifth greeted the both of them as he bid them to sit down.
He had a light breakfast, Dornish sausages mixed with some eggs and ham, followed by some sweetened wine afterwards. It wasn't the Tea mixed with Brandy he was used to when he was fleet admiral Yang Wen-Li, but it was good enough for him.
He didn't pay much attention to what his grandfather spoke about during the meal, more focused on wanting to get back to his research. He heard something about a ritual, of dreams his grandfather had about dragons. He'd seen pyromancers speaking to his grandfather and bringing in wildfire to the keep. He glanced over at his heavily pregnant sister Rhaella, according to the maester she was due to deliver the baby soon.
Once they finished their meal he and Aerys headed over to maester Corso for their lessons. It was his favorite part of the day, unlike Aerys who excelled with the sword in the training grounds, he found the lessons with the maester more up his alley.
"The Norvosi and Qohoriks employed a crescent shaped formation to lure the Volantenes deeper into dagger lake. As they pushed into the center, the flanks slowly enveloped them until their fleets were wiped out."
Maester Corso nodded in approval while Aerys glanced in confusion. "Indeed, it seems you've done your assigned reading. And tell me, what was the deciding factor which forced Volantis to cease their wars of conquest."
"It was Aegon on the black dread." His twin interjected. "He burnt the Lysene fleet, with the threat of Dragonfire the Volantenes soon surrendered." Aerys gave a smug smile as he nodded in self satisfaction.
"What about you Prince Jaehaerys?"
"Well." He nodded as he pondered, "Aegon did play a role in diminishing the military capabilities of Volantis. But even without him, Volantis was doomed to fail."
"And what makes you think that?"
"They were overstretched. They faced Qohor and Norvos in the north and their main fleets had been wiped out. In the west they faced the combined might of Myr, Lys, and Tyrosh. While the Bravoosi and Pentos were aiding the war efforts of the 3 previously mentioned cities. And that's not even counting in the intervention of King Argilac Durrandon. Frankly it was a matter of time."
"What would you have done if you were in command?" The maester asked.
"Personally I would have never gone to war at all."
"I see." The maester rubbed his beard and nodded. "You two have done well, we shall cover the years before the conquest for our next session. And my prince, could we talk?"
"Sure." He nodded as Aerys stood up and left the room. Maester Corso stood up and went over to his drawer, pulling up the treatise he'd handing him earlier today. "I read your treatise on the prelude to the dance. I have to say, you have a rather unique point of view."
"Is that a good or a bad thing?"
"Neither, in fact, I'm actually thinking of sending this to the citadel to be reviewed by one of my colleagues. Who knows, perhaps they'll make a few copies and recommend it as an addition to our main library and even send a few copies out."
"It would be an honor."
"Now if only you showed this sale focus to your sums and letters."
He chuckled a little as he nodded and stood from his seat. "I'll try maester."
--
He had a bad feeling as his grandfather began the ceremony. They were all gathered in the great hall of Summerhall, in the center of the room were 7 piles of wildfire, on top of them were 7 dragon eggs. The king nodded to the chief pyromancer as he lit the flames and the fires enveloped the eggs.
He looked around, finding his family focused entirely on the ceremony. He lightly hanged his elbow into Aerys' ribs. "What is it?" He hissed.
"I'm going to the privy, I'll be back."
"You'll miss the bloody ceremony."
"Would you rather I pissed myself here?"
"Fine, others take you. Go."
He made his way out of the room and into one of the nearby privy rooms. He stood there and waited, planning on returning once the ceremony ended. A few minutes passed, only for him to hear screams and footsteps running around him.
He exited the privy room, making his way back to the room as servants ran past him and out of the castle. He found the hall just outside of the room covered in flames and fallen debris. Just under the debris he found someone struggling. He made his way to them and found his twin brother trying to push a wooden beam off of him.
"Aerys'!" He ran to him and helped him get the wooden beam off of him, ignoring the searing pain on his palms as they burnt from the wood. "What happened?"
Aerys' had a vacant look in his face, "Grandfather, he...." A booming sound came from within the room and burst the doors open. He shielded his brother and took the brunt of the blast, feeling a scalding pain on the right side of his face as they are both knocked down onto the floor.
"Come on." His brother helped him up. "We need to leave, we.."
"Where's mother and father? And Rhaella?"
"Ser Duncan..." Aerys' replied, "it all became anarchy, but I saw Ser Duncan leave down another hall with them. They'll be in good hands."
"We'll meet them outside then."
They made their way out of the castle, finding their way through the smoke plumes until they broke down a window and exited. The cold night air bought relief to his injuries. They walked out towards a crowd of people. He found Rhaella as well as his parents and the Lord commander.
"Aerys, Jaehaerys!" His mother called out to them as she embraced them. She put her hand on the right side of his face, her relief replaced with concern, "Jaehaerys...your face, what happened?"
"There was a blast in the main hall, I shielded Aerys'."
"The king." Lord commander Duncan stepped up. "Where is he?"
"I'm not sure." Aerys' replied. "I left the castle with Jaehaerys after he saved me."
Duncan took his white cloak off and tossed away his shield and sword. "I'm going back in, I'll get him out of there. He's my king, and my friend."
He walked away from us and gave us a last look before entering the castle once again. As he dissapeared from sight, Rhaella gripped her belly in pain. "The babe....." She whimpered, "He's coming."
--
The fires burnt through the night, as the flames began to die out, the sounds of the collapsing castle and the roars of the flames were mixed with the cries of a newborn babe. He glanced at his sister and brother as they held their newborn babe. "His name will be Rhaegar." His brother declared as his sister cradled his newborn nephew.
--
14 years later
Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen's concentration was broken by a knock on the door. He stoped was he was doing, glancing over at the door. "Just a moment."
He turned back to what he was doing, finishing the sentence on a treatise he'd been working on regarding the political conditions that led to the dance of the dragons. "Seven hells brother, mother said you were to join us for breakfast." A familiar voice rang out from beyond the door, his elder twin brother Aerys.
Jaehaerys put his quill down and sighed, he stood from his chair and yawned, it was only then that he realized the sun was almost fully up in the sky and that he was late. He looked down and realized he was still in his small clothes just as another series of knocks hit his doors. "For sevens sake brother are you even alive?"
"Just a moment, let me get changed."
"Typical." He heard laughter through the door as he searched through his wardrobe and put on his clothes. He put on something simple, red trousers and a red velvet doublet. Once he he was changed he put on his boots and made his way across the room, trying to not trip on all the books scattered through the floor and reminding himself to give them back to the maester once he was done.
He opened the door, finding his brother with a bored expression. "About damn time you finished." He glanced into the room and laughed. "Seven hells, were you researching again?"
"I was, I told you brother, I'm writing a treatise o-"
"Yes, yes." His twin cut him off. "The inevitability of the Dance of the Dragons and the political failures of King Jaehaerys. You've told us all about it already. Now come on, we're all waiting for you so we can break our fast. Hurry up, I'm hungry."
He followed his brother down the halls of the castle. Summerhall as the name implied was used by his family as a sort of summer palace. Though the castle didn't have a massive library unlike the one in Kings landing, he still preferred the castle over the smell of the capital.
They arrived at the main hall, where he was met by the stares of his extended family. "Good news everyone." Aerys beamed as he followed him into the room. "I found my twin, he was lost under his books once again."
"Its good that you could join us." His grandfather, King Aegon the fifth greeted the both of them as he bid them to sit down.
He had a light breakfast, Dornish sausages mixed with some eggs and ham, followed by some sweetened wine afterwards. It wasn't the Tea mixed with Brandy he was used to when he was fleet admiral Yang Wen-Li, but it was good enough for him.
He didn't pay much attention to what his grandfather spoke about during the meal, more focused on wanting to get back to his research. He heard something about a ritual, of dreams his grandfather had about dragons. He'd seen pyromancers speaking to his grandfather and bringing in wildfire to the keep. He glanced over at his heavily pregnant sister Rhaella, according to the maester she was due to deliver the baby soon.
Once they finished their meal he and Aerys headed over to maester Corso for their lessons. It was his favorite part of the day, unlike Aerys who excelled with the sword in the training grounds, he found the lessons with the maester more up his alley.
"The Norvosi and Qohoriks employed a crescent shaped formation to lure the Volantenes deeper into dagger lake. As they pushed into the center, the flanks slowly enveloped them until their fleets were wiped out."
Maester Corso nodded in approval while Aerys glanced in confusion. "Indeed, it seems you've done your assigned reading. And tell me, what was the deciding factor which forced Volantis to cease their wars of conquest."
"It was Aegon on the black dread." His twin interjected. "He burnt the Lysene fleet, with the threat of Dragonfire the Volantenes soon surrendered." Aerys gave a smug smile as he nodded in self satisfaction.
"What about you Prince Jaehaerys?"
"Well." He nodded as he pondered, "Aegon did play a role in diminishing the military capabilities of Volantis. But even without him, Volantis was doomed to fail."
"And what makes you think that?"
"They were overstretched. They faced Qohor and Norvos in the north and their main fleets had been wiped out. In the west they faced the combined might of Myr, Lys, and Tyrosh. While the Bravoosi and Pentos were aiding the war efforts of the 3 previously mentioned cities. And that's not even counting in the intervention of King Argilac Durrandon. Frankly it was a matter of time."
"What would you have done if you were in command?" The maester asked.
"Personally I would have never gone to war at all."
"I see." The maester rubbed his beard and nodded. "You two have done well, we shall cover the years before the conquest for our next session. And my prince, could we talk?"
"Sure." He nodded as Aerys stood up and left the room. Maester Corso stood up and went over to his drawer, pulling up the treatise he'd handing him earlier today. "I read your treatise on the prelude to the dance. I have to say, you have a rather unique point of view."
"Is that a good or a bad thing?"
"Neither, in fact, I'm actually thinking of sending this to the citadel to be reviewed by one of my colleagues. Who knows, perhaps they'll make a few copies and recommend it as an addition to our main library and even send a few copies out."
"It would be an honor."
"Now if only you showed this sale focus to your sums and letters."
He chuckled a little as he nodded and stood from his seat. "I'll try maester."
--
He had a bad feeling as his grandfather began the ceremony. They were all gathered in the great hall of Summerhall, in the center of the room were 7 piles of wildfire, on top of them were 7 dragon eggs. The king nodded to the chief pyromancer as he lit the flames and the fires enveloped the eggs.
He looked around, finding his family focused entirely on the ceremony. He lightly hanged his elbow into Aerys' ribs. "What is it?" He hissed.
"I'm going to the privy, I'll be back."
"You'll miss the bloody ceremony."
"Would you rather I pissed myself here?"
"Fine, others take you. Go."
He made his way out of the room and into one of the nearby privy rooms. He stood there and waited, planning on returning once the ceremony ended. A few minutes passed, only for him to hear screams and footsteps running around him.
He exited the privy room, making his way back to the room as servants ran past him and out of the castle. He found the hall just outside of the room covered in flames and fallen debris. Just under the debris he found someone struggling. He made his way to them and found his twin brother trying to push a wooden beam off of him.
"Aerys'!" He ran to him and helped him get the wooden beam off of him, ignoring the searing pain on his palms as they burnt from the wood. "What happened?"
Aerys' had a vacant look in his face, "Grandfather, he...." A booming sound came from within the room and burst the doors open. He shielded his brother and took the brunt of the blast, feeling a scalding pain on the right side of his face as they are both knocked down onto the floor.
"Come on." His brother helped him up. "We need to leave, we.."
"Where's mother and father? And Rhaella?"
"Ser Duncan..." Aerys' replied, "it all became anarchy, but I saw Ser Duncan leave down another hall with them. They'll be in good hands."
"We'll meet them outside then."
They made their way out of the castle, finding their way through the smoke plumes until they broke down a window and exited. The cold night air bought relief to his injuries. They walked out towards a crowd of people. He found Rhaella as well as his parents and the Lord commander.
"Aerys, Jaehaerys!" His mother called out to them as she embraced them. She put her hand on the right side of his face, her relief replaced with concern, "Jaehaerys...your face, what happened?"
"There was a blast in the main hall, I shielded Aerys'."
"The king." Lord commander Duncan stepped up. "Where is he?"
"I'm not sure." Aerys' replied. "I left the castle with Jaehaerys after he saved me."
Duncan took his white cloak off and tossed away his shield and sword. "I'm going back in, I'll get him out of there. He's my king, and my friend."
He walked away from us and gave us a last look before entering the castle once again. As he dissapeared from sight, Rhaella gripped her belly in pain. "The babe....." She whimpered, "He's coming."
--
The fires burnt through the night, as the flames began to die out, the sounds of the collapsing castle and the roars of the flames were mixed with the cries of a newborn babe. He glanced at his sister and brother as they held their newborn babe. "His name will be Rhaegar." His brother declared as his sister cradled his newborn nephew.
Last edited:
SuperPulp2789
Well worn.
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Any chance the MC will try to point out to Tywin that Aerys is insane and is both jealous of and hates him?
Somehow I don't think Tywin ever got that from Aerys or understood the guy was jealous of him
Somehow I don't think Tywin ever got that from Aerys or understood the guy was jealous of him
The Stepstones
Alenco98
Getting sticky.
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Jaehaerys leaned over the railings of the royal flagship Dragons Roar as he vomited most of his breakfast. He'd only read of the conditions of primitive naval vessels of ancient humanity in his old life, but being on one himself was an entirely different experience. Though he admitted, the rough conditions here were nothing compared to the Patroklos when he fought over the skies of Legnica.
He still shuddered at the thought of that battle, if only he'd spoken up, if he'd insisted to the admiral to pull the ships from the planets surface and engage count Lohengramm in battle. Those thoughts disappeared as he vomited more of his breakfast. For a moment he thought he'd fall overboard until he felt a hand pull him back. He leaned back and fell butt first on the deck of the ship, catching his breath and wishing he was back in the capital. "Are you alright my prince?" The voice behind the hand spoke.
He looked back and glanced up, finding lord Maekar Velaryon alongside his son Lucerys. "Thank you Lord Velaryon, but I am ok, just a little seasick."
"It happens my prince." He nodded and gave a comforting smile. "Give it a few days and you'll get your sea legs, this is nothing if I may be honest with you, why I remember ba-"
"Brother!" His twin's voice ran out. He glanced as he saw Aerys emerge from the cabin with Ser Harlan Grandison who served as his escort. "Seasick again?"
"Judging by my breakfast being used to feed the fishes I guess so."
"You'll only make it worse if you're out there come on inside."
"I'd rather just get it over with and try to get used to it. Though I could use some wine."
His brother chuckled a little. "That will only make it worse."
"We are headed towards a warzone, I figure if I die I'd rather it be with a belly full of wine."
"Good point." Aerys glanced at lord Velaryon, "how soon until landfall?"
"Another week, maybe 5 or 6 days if the winds favor us."
"Good." His brother smiled and nodded. "We'll put those damn usurpers to the sword once and for all once this is through."
"Its a shame thousands will have to die from it though." Jaehaerys interjected.
Everyone's expression tensed up for a moment and they looked at him as if he'd said something wrong. "Yes indeed." Lord Velaryon closed his eyes and nodded as well. "War is always a tragic thing, but we cannot abide by these traitors so close to our shores. If the gods are good it will be a quick war."
Jaehaerys could only nod as he leaned his head back against the wooden railing and sighed, looking up at the sky. The sun was bearing down on them. The closest star to them, yet he knew there was more than that to it. A quick war, he mused to himself. No war is preferable to a quick war.
--
The waves were even stronger now that he was on a small boat. It was one of the various fishing boats and other smaller crafts they'd requisitioned. They were headed for an island called the Veil, it was the closest island to the Stepstones.
Behind him, the ships were bombarding the island, pelting it with fire arrows and scorpion bolts. A small fleet had been guarding the island, led by an Aemon Saan, one of the many nephews and sons of Samarro Saan, the last Valyrian. The fleet of the last Valyrian, according to lord Maekar was waiting at the center of the Stepstones with the other ninepenny kings.
--
He took a deep breath as he held the battle-axe he was going to use as a weapon. Back in the academy he had the lowest scores when it came to physical fitness, he had trained for hand to hand combat but always lost to the other students. He did however know the basics of hand to hand combat, having been taught how to use an axe. When Schenkopp and the Rosen Ritter joined his fleet, Schenkopp offered to teach him how to fight, even giving him a few lessons on hand to hand combat.
But he was a fleet commander, he didn't really need that sort of knowledge and he always felt sore after training and stopped the lessons afterwards, he even stopped carrying around his standard issued fire-arm, saying he was a lousy shot and was more likely to kill someone on his side than an enemy combatant.
He regretted his laziness as the boat he was in approached the shores. Maybe I'd still be around if I knew how to fight. Maybe Frederica wouldn't have to live as a widow. Miracle Yang, more like foolish Yang. He sighed in frustration as he looked towards the shores, now only 100 feet away.
"Get ready!" Harlan Grandison from the Kingsguard stood and unsheathed his sword from the scabbard. His twin brother smiled as well, eager to engage in battle and start fighting.
The boat came to a sudden halt as a thudding sound came from underneath. "Targaryen!" Grandison called out as he jumped from the boat and ran to the shore. Almost automatically, he jumped out behind his twin and ran towards the shores.
He waded through some water, ignoring the annoying feeling of his clothes being wet and charged at the shore. There was little resistance, with most of the men having fled inland.
They mopped up whatever remains remained in the beach, with Aerys killing one of them in. A particularly brutal fashion, stabbing his head repeatedly with a sword until bits of brain and blood poured on the sands. "He's already dead brother." He put his hand on his twin's shoulder and he turned back to face him, seemingly annoyed.
"Sorry about that." He laughed a little, "I was too caught up in the fun of it all."
"Sure." He nodded, trying to hide the disgust he felt and trying to not vomit as he saw the remains of the poor lad his brother just killed. He couldn't even make out his face anymore. Sorry for not stopping him sooner.
They spent a month on the island, clearing out the sellswords and pirates the band of nine hired. He killed his fair share of men, the first one having been a boy around Julian's age, he still remembered his face, it somehow resembled Julian's a bit. He thought he'd never be able to kill again, but the situation called for it again, and each time he did it, it seemed to come easier to him, he tried to tell his brother about his concerns one night as they sat over a fire. "Guilt?" He seemed confused at what he said. "Stop being so soft hearted brother, these are rebels, pirates, sellswords. You don't think they haven't killed as well? That they haven't put innocents to the sword?"
"They're still people brother, they haven't even attacked us. We're the ones coming in here and bringing war to them. I know Maelys means to bring war to us, but this." He looked around the beaches and stretched his arms out, pointing out all the butchery and carnage unleashed these last few days. "I'm not comfortable with the thought of killing, and I'm not comfortable with the thought of sending our subjects to die for us. Though I can respect the fact that we're not sitting safely in Kings Landing while our own people die."
"Its still a necessity though brother. You know what the Blackfyres are, Maelys seeks the throne. And should he land on our shores, he'll kill thousands of our people, our subjects to get the throne. And when he does, our heads will be the first that roll off once he does. For your sake brother, you should forget about all those people you kill. If you keep being so soft hearted you'll die."
"I.....I understand. I just wish there was another way." He didn't know what to say, deep down in his heart he knew his brother was right.
"The only way is to win this was as quickly as possible brother. Now come on, have a drink, cheer up." He handed his brother a wineskin. "Tywin and Steffon will be joining us for a drink once they come back from patrol."
He simply sighed and nodded. "I'll keep it in mind, thank you for listening brother."
About two weeks into their campaign, lord Ormund Baratheon, the hand of the king was killed, shot by a poison arrow and dying in the arms of his son Steffon. The campaign devolved into chaos from there, and the troops unleashed vengeance on the rebels. Lord Commander Gerald Hightower took command, no quarter was given to the rebels, every nook and every cranny of the island was cleared, any caves they found, they filled with burning oil and lit it on fire, burning out the troops and killing any that ran out with arrows. By the time the campaign in the Veil ended, you could walk around the island and see a small trace of battle.
He looked out into the sea as the last day of battle concluded. There were over a dozen islands in the Stepstones, if the cost for this one had been great, he shuddered at the thought of the fighting on the other islands.
He still shuddered at the thought of that battle, if only he'd spoken up, if he'd insisted to the admiral to pull the ships from the planets surface and engage count Lohengramm in battle. Those thoughts disappeared as he vomited more of his breakfast. For a moment he thought he'd fall overboard until he felt a hand pull him back. He leaned back and fell butt first on the deck of the ship, catching his breath and wishing he was back in the capital. "Are you alright my prince?" The voice behind the hand spoke.
He looked back and glanced up, finding lord Maekar Velaryon alongside his son Lucerys. "Thank you Lord Velaryon, but I am ok, just a little seasick."
"It happens my prince." He nodded and gave a comforting smile. "Give it a few days and you'll get your sea legs, this is nothing if I may be honest with you, why I remember ba-"
"Brother!" His twin's voice ran out. He glanced as he saw Aerys emerge from the cabin with Ser Harlan Grandison who served as his escort. "Seasick again?"
"Judging by my breakfast being used to feed the fishes I guess so."
"You'll only make it worse if you're out there come on inside."
"I'd rather just get it over with and try to get used to it. Though I could use some wine."
His brother chuckled a little. "That will only make it worse."
"We are headed towards a warzone, I figure if I die I'd rather it be with a belly full of wine."
"Good point." Aerys glanced at lord Velaryon, "how soon until landfall?"
"Another week, maybe 5 or 6 days if the winds favor us."
"Good." His brother smiled and nodded. "We'll put those damn usurpers to the sword once and for all once this is through."
"Its a shame thousands will have to die from it though." Jaehaerys interjected.
Everyone's expression tensed up for a moment and they looked at him as if he'd said something wrong. "Yes indeed." Lord Velaryon closed his eyes and nodded as well. "War is always a tragic thing, but we cannot abide by these traitors so close to our shores. If the gods are good it will be a quick war."
Jaehaerys could only nod as he leaned his head back against the wooden railing and sighed, looking up at the sky. The sun was bearing down on them. The closest star to them, yet he knew there was more than that to it. A quick war, he mused to himself. No war is preferable to a quick war.
--
The waves were even stronger now that he was on a small boat. It was one of the various fishing boats and other smaller crafts they'd requisitioned. They were headed for an island called the Veil, it was the closest island to the Stepstones.
Behind him, the ships were bombarding the island, pelting it with fire arrows and scorpion bolts. A small fleet had been guarding the island, led by an Aemon Saan, one of the many nephews and sons of Samarro Saan, the last Valyrian. The fleet of the last Valyrian, according to lord Maekar was waiting at the center of the Stepstones with the other ninepenny kings.
--
He took a deep breath as he held the battle-axe he was going to use as a weapon. Back in the academy he had the lowest scores when it came to physical fitness, he had trained for hand to hand combat but always lost to the other students. He did however know the basics of hand to hand combat, having been taught how to use an axe. When Schenkopp and the Rosen Ritter joined his fleet, Schenkopp offered to teach him how to fight, even giving him a few lessons on hand to hand combat.
But he was a fleet commander, he didn't really need that sort of knowledge and he always felt sore after training and stopped the lessons afterwards, he even stopped carrying around his standard issued fire-arm, saying he was a lousy shot and was more likely to kill someone on his side than an enemy combatant.
He regretted his laziness as the boat he was in approached the shores. Maybe I'd still be around if I knew how to fight. Maybe Frederica wouldn't have to live as a widow. Miracle Yang, more like foolish Yang. He sighed in frustration as he looked towards the shores, now only 100 feet away.
"Get ready!" Harlan Grandison from the Kingsguard stood and unsheathed his sword from the scabbard. His twin brother smiled as well, eager to engage in battle and start fighting.
The boat came to a sudden halt as a thudding sound came from underneath. "Targaryen!" Grandison called out as he jumped from the boat and ran to the shore. Almost automatically, he jumped out behind his twin and ran towards the shores.
He waded through some water, ignoring the annoying feeling of his clothes being wet and charged at the shore. There was little resistance, with most of the men having fled inland.
They mopped up whatever remains remained in the beach, with Aerys killing one of them in. A particularly brutal fashion, stabbing his head repeatedly with a sword until bits of brain and blood poured on the sands. "He's already dead brother." He put his hand on his twin's shoulder and he turned back to face him, seemingly annoyed.
"Sorry about that." He laughed a little, "I was too caught up in the fun of it all."
"Sure." He nodded, trying to hide the disgust he felt and trying to not vomit as he saw the remains of the poor lad his brother just killed. He couldn't even make out his face anymore. Sorry for not stopping him sooner.
They spent a month on the island, clearing out the sellswords and pirates the band of nine hired. He killed his fair share of men, the first one having been a boy around Julian's age, he still remembered his face, it somehow resembled Julian's a bit. He thought he'd never be able to kill again, but the situation called for it again, and each time he did it, it seemed to come easier to him, he tried to tell his brother about his concerns one night as they sat over a fire. "Guilt?" He seemed confused at what he said. "Stop being so soft hearted brother, these are rebels, pirates, sellswords. You don't think they haven't killed as well? That they haven't put innocents to the sword?"
"They're still people brother, they haven't even attacked us. We're the ones coming in here and bringing war to them. I know Maelys means to bring war to us, but this." He looked around the beaches and stretched his arms out, pointing out all the butchery and carnage unleashed these last few days. "I'm not comfortable with the thought of killing, and I'm not comfortable with the thought of sending our subjects to die for us. Though I can respect the fact that we're not sitting safely in Kings Landing while our own people die."
"Its still a necessity though brother. You know what the Blackfyres are, Maelys seeks the throne. And should he land on our shores, he'll kill thousands of our people, our subjects to get the throne. And when he does, our heads will be the first that roll off once he does. For your sake brother, you should forget about all those people you kill. If you keep being so soft hearted you'll die."
"I.....I understand. I just wish there was another way." He didn't know what to say, deep down in his heart he knew his brother was right.
"The only way is to win this was as quickly as possible brother. Now come on, have a drink, cheer up." He handed his brother a wineskin. "Tywin and Steffon will be joining us for a drink once they come back from patrol."
He simply sighed and nodded. "I'll keep it in mind, thank you for listening brother."
About two weeks into their campaign, lord Ormund Baratheon, the hand of the king was killed, shot by a poison arrow and dying in the arms of his son Steffon. The campaign devolved into chaos from there, and the troops unleashed vengeance on the rebels. Lord Commander Gerald Hightower took command, no quarter was given to the rebels, every nook and every cranny of the island was cleared, any caves they found, they filled with burning oil and lit it on fire, burning out the troops and killing any that ran out with arrows. By the time the campaign in the Veil ended, you could walk around the island and see a small trace of battle.
He looked out into the sea as the last day of battle concluded. There were over a dozen islands in the Stepstones, if the cost for this one had been great, he shuddered at the thought of the fighting on the other islands.
Sea battle
Alenco98
Getting sticky.
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Yang sat at a picnic table in a park around downtown Heinessen, he'd reserved a picnic table for himself and Frederica, figuring he might as well have one last get-together before their wedding. Cazern arrived first with his family, alongside them were Murai and Patrichev. The rest of the guests poured in slowly, Schenkopp, Julian, and finally Attenborough. He wished Poplan and the others were with him, but they were hiding out, waiting for the right time to strike back at the empire.
They chatted and ate for the entire afternoon, he regretted not bringing too much food, fortunately there was a various grocery stores nearby and Schenkopp offered to go over and bring more food. 15 minutes later, Schenkopp showed up with more food, mostly light snacks and sandwiches.
Night started to descent upon Heinessen as everyone started to leave, Julian left first, followed by Cazern and his family, then Patrichev, Murai, Schenkopp and finally Attenborough. They were nice enough to clean up after themselves, leaving him and Frederica alongside an empty picnic basket. They went to a small hill that somewhat overlooked part of the park and sat there, watching the sun set as they chatted away.
He felt a slight pain on his left leg as time went on and the sun set. As the light left Heinessen he realized the lights around the park weren't turning on. Even the lights around the city remained off. The bustle of the city, the pedestrians walking around seemed to go away as only he and Frederica were left alone in the park. But the pain in his left leg began to intensify as the lights went out from his world. As the last of the sun's rays went out he stood up, only for the pain to reach its climax. Blood emerged from his leg, causing him to collapse back to where he sat.
He turned to Frederica, finding only horror as her eyes were seemingly replaced by black holes. Blood seeped from the holes, "Why did you leave us?" She asked him. "Why did you abandon us admiral?"
He tried to scream but couldn't, finding himself short of breath as he looked at his leg, finding himself slowly bleeding out. "Why did you leave us?" She continued.
"I'm sorry...Frederica....I'm sorr-"
"Wake up!" Another voice boomed, Yang felt himself being slapped as his world seemingly collapsed.
"Get a grip Jaehaerys!" He felt himself being slapped again, he opened his eyes, finding his twin brother seemingly waving his hand at his face. "Hey....it's just a dream you know."
He felt something moist under his eyes, he touched it, wiping off what seemed like tears.
"You were having some kind of nightmare." His brother started. "And who is this Frederica? I've never heard of any lady at court by that name." He put his finger on his chin and smiled. "Unless you've been in the streets of silk without me knowing brother." He chuckled.
He looked at him for a moment, then down at the sheets he covered himself with. "She.......she's not in this world." He looked down for a moment, even though his dream of her turned into a nightmare, he still missed her after all these years.
"Oh." His brother's smile died and he looked away, seemingly embarrassed. "I'm sorry brother I didn't mean t-"
"Its fine." He cut him off as he stood up, he reached for his sword and strapped it on, followed by his armor. It was basic armor composed of burnished bronzed steel with the sigil of his house on his chest-plate as well as his shield. "What's the plan for today?" He asked after putting on the last of his armor.
"A fleet from Tyrosh was spotted by several scout ships from House Velaryon. They recently gathered with the enemy ships in the area, and they'll be on top of us in a few hours, we're getting everything ready to meet them in battle." His stomach turned into a pit, he hated sea-battles. Instead of lasers and particle beams from afar it would be hand to hand fighting. He sighed as he started walking out of the tent.
"Lets get this over with."
-
He stood inside a tent on the shores of the island, besides him was his brother Aerys, while in front of them a table had been arranged with several seats. Lord Commander Gerold Hightower sat at the head of the table, in the surrounding seats there were various great lords from around Westeros. Lord Quellon Greyjoy sat next to Lord Commander Hightower on his right. On Lord Hightower's left sat Prince Lewin Martell, another member of the Kingsguard and the man in charge of the Dornish contigent in this campaign. The other great lords that led their respective regions were seated at the table as well, the only exception was the Westerlands, where Jason Lannister sat in place of Lord Tytos Lannister.
"I'm sure you all know why we're here." Lord commander Hightower started. "Per Lord Velaryon's report, we've lost 180 ships out of the 500 total ships we've bought to the Stepstones. Considering ship losses, we've taken less losses than the enemy so far."
"The question right now is how many losses the enemy has lost. And how many ships they have left." Lord Jon Arryn spoke.
"Despite the losses. We still have a slight numerical advantage." Lord Velaryon spoke, "However, we've just received a report from the master of whispers. I've been informed the enemy recently deployed another fleet from Lys. If the fleet makes contact with the rebels, there's no way we can avoid being wiped out."
"We have our own reinforcements on the way." Luthor Tyrell interjected. "House Redwyne has recently dispatched another 100 ships to help with the war effort. Should they arrive, they'll negate whatever numerical advantage their fleet would get from their reinforcements."
"Unfortunately, the Redwyne ports are farther from the stepstones than Lys is." Prince Lewin Martell replied. "It will take weeks for them to arrive, and by then, who knows how much damage they'll have done."
"We'll need to withdraw from Bloodstone for now then and regroup in the western isles of the Stepstones. With their proximity to Dorne, they'll be easier to defend." Rickard Stark spoke, his deep voice slightly echoing around the room.
"We'll need a diversion, something to draw their attention for a moment or to cause confusion in their ranks." Lord Greyjoy began. "But whoever is placed in command of the ship in charge of it will most likely not return. Who would we force this duty to."
Everyone's faces sank for a moment and they all looked around. He sighed and stepped forward. "I'll go ahead and do it."
"Prince Jaehaerys?" Gerold looked at him, his face showing clear bewilderment. Lord Greyjoy couldn't help but laugh a little.
"Seems the prince has guts. I'll give you some of my fastest ships boy."
-
"This isn't like you brother." Aerys glanced at him as he walked back to his tent. "I've never taken you as the type to volunteer for anything. Especially something as dangerous as this."
"You're really overestimating me brother. I'm only doing this to pay off my debts before I die."
"Debts?"
He looked at him for a moment, then he closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. "I don't like the fact that so many people are fighting and dying for mine and my family's sake. If this means this meaningless war will be one step closer to being ended I'll do it."
Aerys looked at him, a mix of displeasure and confusion. "I'll never understand you." He went over and hugged him tightly. "But do me a favor and come back safely, I don't want mother and father to bury another person."
Aerys broke away him after he finished hugging him. "I'll do what I can."
-
He stood at the front of the Ironborn Longship he'd been given by Quellon Greyjoy. They were staffed with the maximum amount of people that would be allowed while preserving its speed. Quellon offered to give him 10 of his ships but Jaehaerys only requested one. They'd gone over their plan, and he'd even helped modify it. They broke away from the main fleet, going around the battle and shooting arrows and scorpion bolts. They went around, being right behind the enemy line. "It seems they haven't noticed us." He looked at his navigator who stood beside him. "Can you spot the enemy flagship?"
Harren, the navigator took out his Myrish eye and glanced out towards the enemy ships, a moment later he put it down and on his side where it usually hung from. "Aye I've spotted it. Give the order."
"Dump all the supplies, the scorpion as well. We'll be sailing at full speed. Tell the oarsmen to ready themselves for combat, we'll be storming the flagship and holding the admiral hostage."
Harren looked at him for a moment then nodded, giving the order to the rest of his men. I hope this works. He'd tried this during the fourth battle of Tiamat, using a single ship with a skeleton crew to hold the future emperor of the galactic empire hostage and allow his fleet to fleet from certain destruction. He doubted the Essosi would be as civilized as Reinhard von Musel was however. A few minutes passed and the ship sailed towards the Valyrian, the flagship of Samarro Saan.
The ship got closer to the back of the enemy fleet, he stood at the front of the ship in as much armor as he could. He had a grappling hook ready to go, along with the rest of his men. They passed through the back of the enemy fleet undisturbed, the chaos of battle seemingly not affecting them. A few stray arrows passed above the ship and near him, but practically every ship was engaged in combat, even their target was as well.
After 20 minutes of sailing through the battlefield they were right beside it, he whistled and threw his grappling hook on the ship, followed by the rest of his men. The anchors of his ship were dumped and the oarsmen began to emerge from the ship. He pulled the grappling hook as hard as he could once it was on the hull of the Valyrian and began to pull himself towards it at the same time that his crew did.
He pulled himself as fast as he could, he'd unhooked various grappling hooks during this battle whenever he was at sea and had seen many men fall to their deaths in the water. Though he knew how to swim, he was in chainmail and leather, and he knew if he fell he would drown before he could catch onto anything.
30 seconds passed, his arms burnt from the strain of pulling so hard in such a short amount of time, but he felt relief as he touched onto the ship. He looked besides him and found several of his men already taking part in combat. He drew his sword and swung at the first person he could see, striking what seemed to be a Tyroshi and feeling his blood fall on his skin. He gathered several men that had boarded the ship with him and they began clearing out the deck, allowing more of his men to enter the ship. Soon, most of the men he'd bought with him on the Longship was finally on board. "Lets find the enemy commander." He said as he raised his sword up high.
They rampaged through the ship, cutting down every man they could find, in only a few minutes, they broke into the last room of the ship they'd been unable to find. He kicked the door down, finding a slim man with tanned skin, long white hair and purple eyes. He was wearing a wine-colored tunic and high boots of bleached white leather, he had a sword strapped to his right side and a dagger on his left. "Captain Samarro Saan." He pointed his sword at him. "I would recommend going quietly if you wish to live. I promise you will not be harmed."
Saan looked around the room, only for him to sigh and raise his arms. "Very well boy, I will give myself up."
He glanced at Harren who stood besides him. "Secure him with some of your men and bring him to the deck."
Harren went to Samarro with a few men and disarmed him, getting him down on the floor and tying him up. They bought him to the deck of the ship where the survivors were gathered, Samarro was sat down the others. "Have the oarsmen we bought in take positions. We're taking this ship back to our lines. Have the survivors from the enemy crew signal for the enemy to retreat."
They chatted and ate for the entire afternoon, he regretted not bringing too much food, fortunately there was a various grocery stores nearby and Schenkopp offered to go over and bring more food. 15 minutes later, Schenkopp showed up with more food, mostly light snacks and sandwiches.
Night started to descent upon Heinessen as everyone started to leave, Julian left first, followed by Cazern and his family, then Patrichev, Murai, Schenkopp and finally Attenborough. They were nice enough to clean up after themselves, leaving him and Frederica alongside an empty picnic basket. They went to a small hill that somewhat overlooked part of the park and sat there, watching the sun set as they chatted away.
He felt a slight pain on his left leg as time went on and the sun set. As the light left Heinessen he realized the lights around the park weren't turning on. Even the lights around the city remained off. The bustle of the city, the pedestrians walking around seemed to go away as only he and Frederica were left alone in the park. But the pain in his left leg began to intensify as the lights went out from his world. As the last of the sun's rays went out he stood up, only for the pain to reach its climax. Blood emerged from his leg, causing him to collapse back to where he sat.
He turned to Frederica, finding only horror as her eyes were seemingly replaced by black holes. Blood seeped from the holes, "Why did you leave us?" She asked him. "Why did you abandon us admiral?"
He tried to scream but couldn't, finding himself short of breath as he looked at his leg, finding himself slowly bleeding out. "Why did you leave us?" She continued.
"I'm sorry...Frederica....I'm sorr-"
"Wake up!" Another voice boomed, Yang felt himself being slapped as his world seemingly collapsed.
"Get a grip Jaehaerys!" He felt himself being slapped again, he opened his eyes, finding his twin brother seemingly waving his hand at his face. "Hey....it's just a dream you know."
He felt something moist under his eyes, he touched it, wiping off what seemed like tears.
"You were having some kind of nightmare." His brother started. "And who is this Frederica? I've never heard of any lady at court by that name." He put his finger on his chin and smiled. "Unless you've been in the streets of silk without me knowing brother." He chuckled.
He looked at him for a moment, then down at the sheets he covered himself with. "She.......she's not in this world." He looked down for a moment, even though his dream of her turned into a nightmare, he still missed her after all these years.
"Oh." His brother's smile died and he looked away, seemingly embarrassed. "I'm sorry brother I didn't mean t-"
"Its fine." He cut him off as he stood up, he reached for his sword and strapped it on, followed by his armor. It was basic armor composed of burnished bronzed steel with the sigil of his house on his chest-plate as well as his shield. "What's the plan for today?" He asked after putting on the last of his armor.
"A fleet from Tyrosh was spotted by several scout ships from House Velaryon. They recently gathered with the enemy ships in the area, and they'll be on top of us in a few hours, we're getting everything ready to meet them in battle." His stomach turned into a pit, he hated sea-battles. Instead of lasers and particle beams from afar it would be hand to hand fighting. He sighed as he started walking out of the tent.
"Lets get this over with."
-
He stood inside a tent on the shores of the island, besides him was his brother Aerys, while in front of them a table had been arranged with several seats. Lord Commander Gerold Hightower sat at the head of the table, in the surrounding seats there were various great lords from around Westeros. Lord Quellon Greyjoy sat next to Lord Commander Hightower on his right. On Lord Hightower's left sat Prince Lewin Martell, another member of the Kingsguard and the man in charge of the Dornish contigent in this campaign. The other great lords that led their respective regions were seated at the table as well, the only exception was the Westerlands, where Jason Lannister sat in place of Lord Tytos Lannister.
"I'm sure you all know why we're here." Lord commander Hightower started. "Per Lord Velaryon's report, we've lost 180 ships out of the 500 total ships we've bought to the Stepstones. Considering ship losses, we've taken less losses than the enemy so far."
"The question right now is how many losses the enemy has lost. And how many ships they have left." Lord Jon Arryn spoke.
"Despite the losses. We still have a slight numerical advantage." Lord Velaryon spoke, "However, we've just received a report from the master of whispers. I've been informed the enemy recently deployed another fleet from Lys. If the fleet makes contact with the rebels, there's no way we can avoid being wiped out."
"We have our own reinforcements on the way." Luthor Tyrell interjected. "House Redwyne has recently dispatched another 100 ships to help with the war effort. Should they arrive, they'll negate whatever numerical advantage their fleet would get from their reinforcements."
"Unfortunately, the Redwyne ports are farther from the stepstones than Lys is." Prince Lewin Martell replied. "It will take weeks for them to arrive, and by then, who knows how much damage they'll have done."
"We'll need to withdraw from Bloodstone for now then and regroup in the western isles of the Stepstones. With their proximity to Dorne, they'll be easier to defend." Rickard Stark spoke, his deep voice slightly echoing around the room.
"We'll need a diversion, something to draw their attention for a moment or to cause confusion in their ranks." Lord Greyjoy began. "But whoever is placed in command of the ship in charge of it will most likely not return. Who would we force this duty to."
Everyone's faces sank for a moment and they all looked around. He sighed and stepped forward. "I'll go ahead and do it."
"Prince Jaehaerys?" Gerold looked at him, his face showing clear bewilderment. Lord Greyjoy couldn't help but laugh a little.
"Seems the prince has guts. I'll give you some of my fastest ships boy."
-
"This isn't like you brother." Aerys glanced at him as he walked back to his tent. "I've never taken you as the type to volunteer for anything. Especially something as dangerous as this."
"You're really overestimating me brother. I'm only doing this to pay off my debts before I die."
"Debts?"
He looked at him for a moment, then he closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. "I don't like the fact that so many people are fighting and dying for mine and my family's sake. If this means this meaningless war will be one step closer to being ended I'll do it."
Aerys looked at him, a mix of displeasure and confusion. "I'll never understand you." He went over and hugged him tightly. "But do me a favor and come back safely, I don't want mother and father to bury another person."
Aerys broke away him after he finished hugging him. "I'll do what I can."
-
He stood at the front of the Ironborn Longship he'd been given by Quellon Greyjoy. They were staffed with the maximum amount of people that would be allowed while preserving its speed. Quellon offered to give him 10 of his ships but Jaehaerys only requested one. They'd gone over their plan, and he'd even helped modify it. They broke away from the main fleet, going around the battle and shooting arrows and scorpion bolts. They went around, being right behind the enemy line. "It seems they haven't noticed us." He looked at his navigator who stood beside him. "Can you spot the enemy flagship?"
Harren, the navigator took out his Myrish eye and glanced out towards the enemy ships, a moment later he put it down and on his side where it usually hung from. "Aye I've spotted it. Give the order."
"Dump all the supplies, the scorpion as well. We'll be sailing at full speed. Tell the oarsmen to ready themselves for combat, we'll be storming the flagship and holding the admiral hostage."
Harren looked at him for a moment then nodded, giving the order to the rest of his men. I hope this works. He'd tried this during the fourth battle of Tiamat, using a single ship with a skeleton crew to hold the future emperor of the galactic empire hostage and allow his fleet to fleet from certain destruction. He doubted the Essosi would be as civilized as Reinhard von Musel was however. A few minutes passed and the ship sailed towards the Valyrian, the flagship of Samarro Saan.
The ship got closer to the back of the enemy fleet, he stood at the front of the ship in as much armor as he could. He had a grappling hook ready to go, along with the rest of his men. They passed through the back of the enemy fleet undisturbed, the chaos of battle seemingly not affecting them. A few stray arrows passed above the ship and near him, but practically every ship was engaged in combat, even their target was as well.
After 20 minutes of sailing through the battlefield they were right beside it, he whistled and threw his grappling hook on the ship, followed by the rest of his men. The anchors of his ship were dumped and the oarsmen began to emerge from the ship. He pulled the grappling hook as hard as he could once it was on the hull of the Valyrian and began to pull himself towards it at the same time that his crew did.
He pulled himself as fast as he could, he'd unhooked various grappling hooks during this battle whenever he was at sea and had seen many men fall to their deaths in the water. Though he knew how to swim, he was in chainmail and leather, and he knew if he fell he would drown before he could catch onto anything.
30 seconds passed, his arms burnt from the strain of pulling so hard in such a short amount of time, but he felt relief as he touched onto the ship. He looked besides him and found several of his men already taking part in combat. He drew his sword and swung at the first person he could see, striking what seemed to be a Tyroshi and feeling his blood fall on his skin. He gathered several men that had boarded the ship with him and they began clearing out the deck, allowing more of his men to enter the ship. Soon, most of the men he'd bought with him on the Longship was finally on board. "Lets find the enemy commander." He said as he raised his sword up high.
They rampaged through the ship, cutting down every man they could find, in only a few minutes, they broke into the last room of the ship they'd been unable to find. He kicked the door down, finding a slim man with tanned skin, long white hair and purple eyes. He was wearing a wine-colored tunic and high boots of bleached white leather, he had a sword strapped to his right side and a dagger on his left. "Captain Samarro Saan." He pointed his sword at him. "I would recommend going quietly if you wish to live. I promise you will not be harmed."
Saan looked around the room, only for him to sigh and raise his arms. "Very well boy, I will give myself up."
He glanced at Harren who stood besides him. "Secure him with some of your men and bring him to the deck."
Harren went to Samarro with a few men and disarmed him, getting him down on the floor and tying him up. They bought him to the deck of the ship where the survivors were gathered, Samarro was sat down the others. "Have the oarsmen we bought in take positions. We're taking this ship back to our lines. Have the survivors from the enemy crew signal for the enemy to retreat."
Sceonn
Know what you're doing yet?
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This is a very novel idea, I never thought I'd see an ASOIAF cross with LOGH.
But this is a strange take on Yang Wen-Li, the guy has sent more people to their deaths in a single battle than all the lords of Westeros combined since the Conquest of Aegon and was born in a militarized society that had been engaging in bloodfare on that scale for close to a century since.
Also no one would send a Prince on such a dangerous mission, esp. one from a house that just suffered a catastropy with the majority of them dead.
But this is a strange take on Yang Wen-Li, the guy has sent more people to their deaths in a single battle than all the lords of Westeros combined since the Conquest of Aegon and was born in a militarized society that had been engaging in bloodfare on that scale for close to a century since.
Also no one would send a Prince on such a dangerous mission, esp. one from a house that just suffered a catastropy with the majority of them dead.
Prize
New
Alenco98
Getting sticky.
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Jaehaerys hated being at the center of attention. When he lived as Yang Wen-Li he didn't enjoy the attention he'd gotten as the Hero of El Fácil. The fan letters of women proclaiming their love for him, the people coming up to him on the streets to ask for an autograph, it was all grating to him. He wasn't born with a love of dealing with people, close friends and family like Frederica, Julian and Schenkopp was one thing, but strangers were another.
Which made the reception he was currently getting all the more irritating. He was met with cheers from the footmen and sailors as he walked Samarro Saan off his flagship along with his surviving crew. He tried to maintain a flat expression, wanting to drop Samarro off with lord Commander Hightower and get back to reading one of the few books he'd bought from the capital. As he glanced at Captain Saan, he couldn't help but envy how he managed to carry himself in a dignified manner despite his situation.
As they entered the camp proper, he spotted lord Hightower along with his brother and the other lords that had led his campaign. He walked in front of Captain Saan, leading him along with the rope he'd tied him down with until he approached the lord commander. He cleared his throat. "Lord Hightower." He said as he tried to sound dignified and serious. He spotted his twin smiling a little as he spoke then returning to his flat expression, mostly likely having been amused at his attempt to sound serious. "Captain Samarro Saan, or the last Valyrian as he refers to himself. I bring him along with his ship and his surviving crew. I hope you treat him with the dignity of his rank and bring him no harm. I promised on my name as a Prince that no harm would come to him should he surrender himself."
Aerys frowned a little at that while Lord Hightower merely nodded. Hightower was always good at hiding his emotions. "Very well my prince." He turned to the footmen flanking him. "Escort Captain Saan and his men. They are to be under guard at all times. And captain." He turned back to him. "I expect you will behave yourself while under our custody. Our prince may have promised that no harm will come to you, but you and your men have caused us quite the bit of trouble. I suggest you behave yourself and cause no trouble while under our care. Otherwise, I have no idea as to what my men would be capable of doing to the man who's earned himself the title of the Scourge of the Stepstones during our time here."
"But of course my lord Hightower." Samarro said in his silken voice as he bowed. "A captain of the blood of Old Valyria wouldn't dare bring dishonor to himself."
"I'll hold you to that." Hightower nodded, he glanced at the footmen with him. "Take him and his men away."
The footmen descended upon his men, taking hold of them and escorting them away from the center of the camp. He stood face to face with Lord Hightower, waiting whatever reprimand he'd get for flagrantly violating orders. "Kneel my prince," he said as he turned to his brother. "You too prince Aerys. It seems it's about time."
"Time for what?" He was confused, he expected to be punished. He had gone against his orders, he was supposed to sail his ship behind the flank of the enemy and cause them to pursue him, then to wage a fast retreat to give their fleet time to retreat and regroup. He'd sailed out that was for sure, but before sailing out he'd bribed the captain and given him an alternative plan. He'd changed the flag and mast of his ship with one from a captured enemy ship and plunged right into the enemy fleet. It was this ruse that had allowed him to enter the fleet under their nose.
He looked around, confused as to what was happening until his brother laughed and walked beside him and knelt as well. "Seems we're getting knighted."
"What? B-"
"Just one thing Lord Hightower." Aerys cut him off.
"And what would that be my prince?"
"My friend, Tywin." Aerys replied as he pointed to Tywin Lannister, the heir to the rock. "He's been my closest friend since childhood and has saved my life more times than I can count on the palm of my hands while we've been in this hellhole. He should get the honor of knighting me as well as my brother, don't you agree?"
Gerold looked over at Tywin as did Jaehaerys, he was a stern looking man even though he was the same age as him and his brother. He'd heard some stories though, something about him disagreeing with his father on who he'd betrothed his sister to. Shortly after that he'd been sent to court to serve as a page and he'd gotten to know him. He was good with a sword, far better than he and Aerys were and could match him with his knowledge of history during the Maesters lessons. Unlike most of the court however he wasn't outwardly arrogant about his status, always carrying himself with a quiet sort of dignity.
Tywin only nodded, walking over to where Lord Gerold was and taking his place. There was no expression always, just a stern quiet dignity. Knighting not only the heir to the throne but the second in line to the throne was an honor few had. He looked briefly around the camp, spotting many looks of scorn and envy directed at Tywin. When he looked back to him however there was nothing, only that same stern and quiet dignity, if there was anyone in his old life he could compare Tywin to it would be Emperor Reinhard von Lohengramm of the Galactic Empire.
He drew his sword, placing the tip on Aerys' shoulder. He said the words that bought one to the world of knighthood. "In the name of the Warrior I charge you to be brave. In the name of the Father I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother I charge you to defend the young and innocent. In the name of the Maid I charge you to protect all women...."
Once his brother was knighted he rose, hugging Tywin tightly. "You're the only man I could think worthy of knighting me asides from the Kingsguard. You honor mine and your house by doing this." He spotted Tywin making a brief surprised expression. His stern facade broken and becoming a brief smile, one which made him uncomfortable. His brother let go of Tywin, glancing back at him. "your turn now brother." He smiled as he turned to Tywin who only nodded. He placed the tip of his sword on his shoulders and repeated the words once again. As much as he hated attracting attention, Tywin was the heir to house Lannister, and to deny him would place his family in a precarious position, though he thought his brother already had by too heavily favoring the Lannisters.
Finally Tywin finished his speech, allowing him to rise as a newly minted knight of the Seven Kingdoms. As the camp broke into cheers Lord Hightower walked up to him. "A word in my tent."
Here we go. Jaehaerys resigned himself, leaving Aerys to talk with Tywin and Steffon as he followed the Lord Commander into the tent. Hightower grabbed a chair from the sides of the tent and placed it in the middle of it, Jaehaerys grabbed another chair for himself and sat down, waiting until Lord Commander Hightower sat down. Once he did so he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I accept all responsibility for this. I just ask that the men assigned to me not be punished, I bribed them to follow my plan." He opened his eyes, finding only the inquisitive eyes of lord Hightower as he slightly nodded. Looking at him from up close reminded him of Schenkopp, though their characters were as different as night and day.
"That was reckless," he began. "Your plan worked I'll admit. But jumping into an enemy fleet like that? I was already skeptical of this plan when you requested one ship, but considering what's at stake I had no choice."
"You mean." His voice lit up, he expected some form of punishment.
"Indeed." He nodded, you won't be punished, your efforts merit a reward. However, I won't allow you to put yourself in such danger for the duration of this war."
"What will you have me do?"
"Lord Velaryon has spoken to me, he says you have a keen mind for strategy. It seems your efforts today haven't been the only things that caught his attention. The situation at sea is somewhat stabilized in our favor, but the situation on land is at an impasse. You'll be my advisor from now on, you're free to speak to me regarding any further war planning, you'll be at my side during any war councils, and should the situation call for it you'll even lead men."
"Understood. Anything else lord Commander Hightower?"
"That is all for now."
"Understood." He stood up, his hand automatically coming up as if he was about to salute. He stopped himself, reminding himself he was no longer Yang Wen-Li but a prince of the seven kingdoms. Lord commander Hightower gave him a confused look, but Jaehaerys brushed him off and walked out of the tent.
Which made the reception he was currently getting all the more irritating. He was met with cheers from the footmen and sailors as he walked Samarro Saan off his flagship along with his surviving crew. He tried to maintain a flat expression, wanting to drop Samarro off with lord Commander Hightower and get back to reading one of the few books he'd bought from the capital. As he glanced at Captain Saan, he couldn't help but envy how he managed to carry himself in a dignified manner despite his situation.
As they entered the camp proper, he spotted lord Hightower along with his brother and the other lords that had led his campaign. He walked in front of Captain Saan, leading him along with the rope he'd tied him down with until he approached the lord commander. He cleared his throat. "Lord Hightower." He said as he tried to sound dignified and serious. He spotted his twin smiling a little as he spoke then returning to his flat expression, mostly likely having been amused at his attempt to sound serious. "Captain Samarro Saan, or the last Valyrian as he refers to himself. I bring him along with his ship and his surviving crew. I hope you treat him with the dignity of his rank and bring him no harm. I promised on my name as a Prince that no harm would come to him should he surrender himself."
Aerys frowned a little at that while Lord Hightower merely nodded. Hightower was always good at hiding his emotions. "Very well my prince." He turned to the footmen flanking him. "Escort Captain Saan and his men. They are to be under guard at all times. And captain." He turned back to him. "I expect you will behave yourself while under our custody. Our prince may have promised that no harm will come to you, but you and your men have caused us quite the bit of trouble. I suggest you behave yourself and cause no trouble while under our care. Otherwise, I have no idea as to what my men would be capable of doing to the man who's earned himself the title of the Scourge of the Stepstones during our time here."
"But of course my lord Hightower." Samarro said in his silken voice as he bowed. "A captain of the blood of Old Valyria wouldn't dare bring dishonor to himself."
"I'll hold you to that." Hightower nodded, he glanced at the footmen with him. "Take him and his men away."
The footmen descended upon his men, taking hold of them and escorting them away from the center of the camp. He stood face to face with Lord Hightower, waiting whatever reprimand he'd get for flagrantly violating orders. "Kneel my prince," he said as he turned to his brother. "You too prince Aerys. It seems it's about time."
"Time for what?" He was confused, he expected to be punished. He had gone against his orders, he was supposed to sail his ship behind the flank of the enemy and cause them to pursue him, then to wage a fast retreat to give their fleet time to retreat and regroup. He'd sailed out that was for sure, but before sailing out he'd bribed the captain and given him an alternative plan. He'd changed the flag and mast of his ship with one from a captured enemy ship and plunged right into the enemy fleet. It was this ruse that had allowed him to enter the fleet under their nose.
He looked around, confused as to what was happening until his brother laughed and walked beside him and knelt as well. "Seems we're getting knighted."
"What? B-"
"Just one thing Lord Hightower." Aerys cut him off.
"And what would that be my prince?"
"My friend, Tywin." Aerys replied as he pointed to Tywin Lannister, the heir to the rock. "He's been my closest friend since childhood and has saved my life more times than I can count on the palm of my hands while we've been in this hellhole. He should get the honor of knighting me as well as my brother, don't you agree?"
Gerold looked over at Tywin as did Jaehaerys, he was a stern looking man even though he was the same age as him and his brother. He'd heard some stories though, something about him disagreeing with his father on who he'd betrothed his sister to. Shortly after that he'd been sent to court to serve as a page and he'd gotten to know him. He was good with a sword, far better than he and Aerys were and could match him with his knowledge of history during the Maesters lessons. Unlike most of the court however he wasn't outwardly arrogant about his status, always carrying himself with a quiet sort of dignity.
Tywin only nodded, walking over to where Lord Gerold was and taking his place. There was no expression always, just a stern quiet dignity. Knighting not only the heir to the throne but the second in line to the throne was an honor few had. He looked briefly around the camp, spotting many looks of scorn and envy directed at Tywin. When he looked back to him however there was nothing, only that same stern and quiet dignity, if there was anyone in his old life he could compare Tywin to it would be Emperor Reinhard von Lohengramm of the Galactic Empire.
He drew his sword, placing the tip on Aerys' shoulder. He said the words that bought one to the world of knighthood. "In the name of the Warrior I charge you to be brave. In the name of the Father I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother I charge you to defend the young and innocent. In the name of the Maid I charge you to protect all women...."
Once his brother was knighted he rose, hugging Tywin tightly. "You're the only man I could think worthy of knighting me asides from the Kingsguard. You honor mine and your house by doing this." He spotted Tywin making a brief surprised expression. His stern facade broken and becoming a brief smile, one which made him uncomfortable. His brother let go of Tywin, glancing back at him. "your turn now brother." He smiled as he turned to Tywin who only nodded. He placed the tip of his sword on his shoulders and repeated the words once again. As much as he hated attracting attention, Tywin was the heir to house Lannister, and to deny him would place his family in a precarious position, though he thought his brother already had by too heavily favoring the Lannisters.
Finally Tywin finished his speech, allowing him to rise as a newly minted knight of the Seven Kingdoms. As the camp broke into cheers Lord Hightower walked up to him. "A word in my tent."
Here we go. Jaehaerys resigned himself, leaving Aerys to talk with Tywin and Steffon as he followed the Lord Commander into the tent. Hightower grabbed a chair from the sides of the tent and placed it in the middle of it, Jaehaerys grabbed another chair for himself and sat down, waiting until Lord Commander Hightower sat down. Once he did so he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I accept all responsibility for this. I just ask that the men assigned to me not be punished, I bribed them to follow my plan." He opened his eyes, finding only the inquisitive eyes of lord Hightower as he slightly nodded. Looking at him from up close reminded him of Schenkopp, though their characters were as different as night and day.
"That was reckless," he began. "Your plan worked I'll admit. But jumping into an enemy fleet like that? I was already skeptical of this plan when you requested one ship, but considering what's at stake I had no choice."
"You mean." His voice lit up, he expected some form of punishment.
"Indeed." He nodded, you won't be punished, your efforts merit a reward. However, I won't allow you to put yourself in such danger for the duration of this war."
"What will you have me do?"
"Lord Velaryon has spoken to me, he says you have a keen mind for strategy. It seems your efforts today haven't been the only things that caught his attention. The situation at sea is somewhat stabilized in our favor, but the situation on land is at an impasse. You'll be my advisor from now on, you're free to speak to me regarding any further war planning, you'll be at my side during any war councils, and should the situation call for it you'll even lead men."
"Understood. Anything else lord Commander Hightower?"
"That is all for now."
"Understood." He stood up, his hand automatically coming up as if he was about to salute. He stopped himself, reminding himself he was no longer Yang Wen-Li but a prince of the seven kingdoms. Lord commander Hightower gave him a confused look, but Jaehaerys brushed him off and walked out of the tent.
Bloodstone
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Alenco98
Getting sticky.
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He felt the armor pressing down on his body, the light rain doing nothing to assuage the exhaustion he felt after another day of fighting. He rode onto camp near the head of his column, with only lord Hightower and Aerys in front of him. As they entered the center of the camp he dismounted, leaving his horse with a stable hand and looking around their base camp for a moment.
The mood in the air was like his, numb. After almost 6 months fighting on the Stepstones there was no end to the campaign, he felt oddly nostalgic, a seemingly endless conflict between two evenly matched sides. If it wasn't for the primitive nature of it he'd have felt as if he never died at all. A moment later he felt his belly grumble, interrupting his musings on his old life. He looked around for a moment, finding a lit fire with a lone person sitting near it. He walked toward the fire, "Is there room for one more?" He asked as he stood behind the lone person.
He took off his helm, his greasy hair descending to his shoulders. A few moments later the lone person turned, revealing a tabard revealing what looked like the head of the Titan of Braavos. The man's expression changed to a surprised one and he slightly bowed his head to him, pointing to the empty spot besides him. The soldier leaned over towards the fire, grabbing a ladle that was inside one of the pots and took out some stew, putting it into a nearby bowl and handing it to him while holding onto the ladle.
"Thank you." He nodded slightly as he began eating, it was beef stew as far as he could tell, mixed with some vegetables and salt. He glanced at the soldier, he just sat there, looking at him. "Is there something I can help you with?" He wanted to be anywhere but here, preferably locked in his study and reading up on more history and writing new books on his findings.
"Once you're finished could you hand me your plate m'prince? Been meaning to eat as well." In normal times he would have been more deferential to him, but with the magnitude of the situation at hand, the time for formalities was gone.
"No worries." He continued eating for a few minutes, once he was done he took the ladle from the soldiers hand, puring some more food and handing it to him. "Here."
"Thank you." He snatched the food from his hands, eating as fast as he could using the ladle and leaving a small mess on his face. After 30 seconds he finished eating and glanced up at him. "Apologies m'prince, been a rough few days, most of the men I was dispatched with were wiped out. Damn Golden company."
The Golden Company, the mention of then made his skin crawl. He'd stumbled onto a few of their knights in the last few days. If he hadn't been at Hightowers side he would have surely died 10 times over by now. He took a closer look at the soldier, there were various small scratches on him and he was somewhat gaunt. He looked around the camp, finding the same situation everywhere he looked. "May I asked what your name is?"
"Baelish, Alaric Baelish, I'm a knight in the service of Lord Corbray.
"I see." He nodded as he recalled the lessons of his maester and the lecture on house Corbray. "I heard Corbray and his men had the rough of it Recently, Maelys almost killed lord Corbray in a duel."
"I was there." He continued as he grabbed some more food and poured it into his plate. "Corbray was the warrior himself with Lady Forlorn," he said as he chewed on his food. "But Maelys was the stranger himself. Next thing you know he knocks Corbray to the ground and the Golden company charges us. I've no idea how I got out of there alive, we spent a lot of lives to get Corbray and his precious little sword out of there."
He nodded along as the knight continued his story. House Corbray like a lot of the landed nobility of Westeros held their Valyrian steel sword as sacred. He recalled his Maesters lessons back in Summerhall again, "Many have offered a kingdoms ransom for a Valyrian steel sword." Maester Corso would say. "But even the poorest houses would rather be reduced to beggary than ever give up their Valyrian steel sword."
"What a waste." He gasped a little as he realized what he'd just said. He looked around for a moment, hoping no one heard what he'd said. He realized no one was around his fire and the other mix of levies, knights, squires and camp followers were caught up in their own conversation. He looked back at Baelish who kept eating. "I'm sorry if I sounded denigrating towards lord Corbray. I understand some houses view their Valyrian steel sword as precious."
Baelish looked up at him, "I'd rather have the men who died for that sword be alive if you want my opinion."
He couldn't help but nod and smile a little. "Me too Baelish, me too."
Baelish finished eating his plate, "would you like another plate my prince?"
"Su-"
"Brother!" Aerys' voice cut him off as he glanced over at him. He was walking alongside Tywin Lannister and Steffon Baratheon. "Glad to see you're also still alive." He sat down between him and Baelish. "You." He said to Baelish, "fill up a bowl. Your future king is hungry."
Baelish' expression turned blank and he merely nodded. "As you wish my prince." He leaned over to the fire and scooped up more stew, putting some on Aerys plate and handing the ladle to him.
"Gods." Aerys sighed as he dug in. "I swear I'd offer my wife to the stranger if it meant a bloody plate of Dornish Sausages and some Arbor red." He chowed down on his food regardless, clearing his plate in a few seconds. He handed the plate back to Baelish' then looked at him. "Brother. Lord Hightower is looking for you, says they're having a strategy meeting."
"I see." He sighed and stood up, looking for Hightowers tent. "Aren't you going to join us brother?"
"Later." He shrugged. "It's not like I'm planning the damn campaign, that's all Hightowers job, a Prince's job is to ride at the front and cut down any bastard that dares to threaten his family's throne."
"As you say." He spotted Lord Hightowers tent and began to make his way through it and glanced back at his brother and his friends. He saw Baelish, clearly trying to not make a bad impression on his brother, a future lord Paramount and the Lord Paramount of the Storm lands. He made a mental note to find Baelish and bring him into his service, perhaps as a sworn shield, he did after all appreciate his honesty.
He approached lord Hightowers tent and tried to neaten his hair as best he could and entered, finding Lord Hightower speaking with lords Tully, Arryn, Stark and the Prince of Dorne. "You called for me?"
"Yes." He nodded, pointing to the seat besides him. He walked to the table in the center of the tent, a map of the Stepstones shown in the center. He'd gotten a lot done in the last few months ever since he'd been tasked with assisting Lord Hightower in planning the campaign, having secured several islands in the Stepstones and setting the stage for an assault on Bloodstone. He was slowly coming to understand why people like Rudolf the great took power for themselves, the authority they commanded just by their name alone was alluring. At the end of the day, he was and in a sense still is Yang Wen-Li, an admiral of the Free Planets Alliance. He gave his life for the Republican cause, and he'd be damned if he found himself praising Monarchical rule.
As he sat down he looked around, everyone in the room seemed determined, something big was about to happen, and he thought he knew what it was. "I'm assuming we're finally about to assault Bloodstone?"
"Indeed." Lord Hightower nodded as he pointed to the island in the center of the Stepstones. "The war is at a balance now. If we fail in this battle, then the path to Westeros will be open to Maelys and his Ilk. The seas around this section of Bloodstone are ours." He pointed to the part of Bloodstone that faced Westeros. "Maelys knows he needs to hold Bloodstone if he wants his campaign for the throne to be viable. And he can't keep full control of the seas thanks to our fleets."
"But he also knows where we'll land." He said as he pointed to the same spot. If we try to force a landing we'll certainly take losses. And if we get bled enough we'll lose what hold we have on the Stepstones, is that right?"
"Indeed." Lord Tully interjected. "We're stuck at an impasse unfortunately. And time isn't on our side, as we speak, the other Ninepenny Kings are hiring more sellswords in mainland Essos. We may have the numbers advance with our levies and men, but those are battle hardened sellswords they're gathering."
"Thank you Lord Tully." Lord Commander Hightower looked at him. "What is your recommendation my prince?"
"Give me a moment." He looked down at the map, it was highly detailed with an exact geographic layout of each island, as well as supply routes and relevant landing sites that could be used as ports. The more he looked at the map, the more his plan came together. "His supply depot is most likely there." He pointed towards the section of Bloodstone facing the Essosi mainland, it was a cove known as Salty Maw. "If he realizes that his supply lines are in danger and that he'll be cut off. His forces will panic and rout, then we can end this war once and for all."
"We'll need to plan out an assault, prepare supplies and ship-"
"Allow me to organize everything and lead the assault." He spoke up again, cutting off lord Hightower.
"My prince." Lord Hightower spoke with a concerned tone. "This assault is a delicate operation, if something goes wron-."
"It won't, as long as I lead it."
Lord Hightower looked around the room, then at him. He didn't want to do this, but he also didn't want to send people to their near certain deaths while he sat safely besides Lord Hightower in the front or in the back of the lines coordinating the course of the battle, just like the War Hawks of the Free Planets Alliance. "Very well my prince, but you'll be under heavy guard this time. Ser Harlan Grandison of the Kingsguard will accompany you this time."
"As you wish Lord Commander. Let me start going over the plans for the assault proper."
--
"Prince Jaehaerys, we'll be landing shortly." He turned to see Ser Harlan Grandison standing behind him, his hand on the pommel of his sword. He'd served his family since shortly after his birth, having been appointed by his Grandfather King Aegon. He was a burly man, tall for a Stormlander with greying hairs, if he could summarize his looks, it would be as if Fleet Admiral Bewcock lost weight and picked up a sword.
Personality wise however he was the opposite, he was a gruff man of few words. Speaking only when he deemed it appropriate such as right now. "Thank you ser, are the rest of the men ready?"
"Indeed, the men are ready."
"Good." He could hear the faint sounds of the waves as they soared through them and approached the island. It was the middle of the night, the moon was at half, it's light being one of the few things allowing them to navigate through the seas. He'd had smugglers and scouts map out the area and chart the waters, all so they could land undetected. It was dangerous work, especially with all the patrol ships nearby. But if they wanted to end this war it was a necessary evil.
A few minutes passed and they landed, they were in a smaller cove a few leagues from Salty Maw. It was one of the various hideouts used by pirates stopping through Bloodstone. They had 5 ironborn Longships, a little over 400 men in total, rowers, Marines and footmen. They dropped him off with his men, leaving only 200 men with which he was to assault Maelys the Monstrous supply depot. They bid farewell to the ships, watching them sail off and come out of sight after a minute.
He glanced back at his men and they marched into a nearby cave on the cove that one of the scouts pointed out. They camped there all night, sleeping in shifts. His dreams were the same as before, his old friends and wife in his old life, followed by the nightly nightmare of his wife asking why he left them all.
He woke up to his men looking at him with a concerned look. "My prince." Ser Harlan spoke. "Is everything alright. You seem as if."
"It's fine." He cut him off as he stood up and checked his armor. "What of the battle? Has it started?"
"Not yet."
"Have everyone check their equipment and get ready to march as soon as the orders are given.
"Yes my prince."
They readied themselves, putting on their weapons and armor then marching out of the caves. He'd split them into groups of 10, each group having a mix of melee and ranged fighters. His 200 men were composed of 30 knights; 100 footmen armed with melee weapons ranging from short swords, to halberds; 40 crossbow men and 30 archers.
They slowly approached the supply camp, marching slowly to ensure no one spotted them, killing any scouts they came across. An hour later and they were on high ground overlooking the camp. He took out the Myrish eye he'd been given by Lord Commander Hightower and took a look at the camp. He could make out the banners of the Golden company in the center, along with the symbol of the city of Tyrosh and various other sellsword companies, Second Sons, The Company of the Cat, the Stormcrows. Tully was right that Maelys had gone all out with the sellswords.
As they watched, he heard what seemed like an alarm bell ringing in the camp. He gripped his sword tightly with his free hand until he saw Maelys the Monstrous emerge from his tent. He was a unit of a man, wielding a large sword. He reckoned if Schenkopp fought him he might win if he used a standard issue pistol to surprise him with a killing shot. Outside of that, in a straight melee fight Schenkopp would have been killed.
He saw various knights rally around Maelys, he recognized some of their shields, House Peake, Cole, Fossoway, all party to Maelys' cause. As he continued watching, he saw more men stream out of the camp, making their way to the landing site. "They're getting started." He put his Myrish eye down and looked at Ser Grandison on his left, then to Baelish on his right. "We'll start the assault once the fighting on our side is under way."
They waited in position, watching and listening as the battle started. An hour passed and he saw the wounded enter the camp, first as a trickle then as a steady wave. He looked around the camp intermittently, the healers and maesters walking around and tending to the men. Once he saw that the camp was starting to be filled up with the wounded he nodded and tapped the ground three times with his hand. Grandison and Baelish did the same, followed by the others, the time had come.
The mood in the air was like his, numb. After almost 6 months fighting on the Stepstones there was no end to the campaign, he felt oddly nostalgic, a seemingly endless conflict between two evenly matched sides. If it wasn't for the primitive nature of it he'd have felt as if he never died at all. A moment later he felt his belly grumble, interrupting his musings on his old life. He looked around for a moment, finding a lit fire with a lone person sitting near it. He walked toward the fire, "Is there room for one more?" He asked as he stood behind the lone person.
He took off his helm, his greasy hair descending to his shoulders. A few moments later the lone person turned, revealing a tabard revealing what looked like the head of the Titan of Braavos. The man's expression changed to a surprised one and he slightly bowed his head to him, pointing to the empty spot besides him. The soldier leaned over towards the fire, grabbing a ladle that was inside one of the pots and took out some stew, putting it into a nearby bowl and handing it to him while holding onto the ladle.
"Thank you." He nodded slightly as he began eating, it was beef stew as far as he could tell, mixed with some vegetables and salt. He glanced at the soldier, he just sat there, looking at him. "Is there something I can help you with?" He wanted to be anywhere but here, preferably locked in his study and reading up on more history and writing new books on his findings.
"Once you're finished could you hand me your plate m'prince? Been meaning to eat as well." In normal times he would have been more deferential to him, but with the magnitude of the situation at hand, the time for formalities was gone.
"No worries." He continued eating for a few minutes, once he was done he took the ladle from the soldiers hand, puring some more food and handing it to him. "Here."
"Thank you." He snatched the food from his hands, eating as fast as he could using the ladle and leaving a small mess on his face. After 30 seconds he finished eating and glanced up at him. "Apologies m'prince, been a rough few days, most of the men I was dispatched with were wiped out. Damn Golden company."
The Golden Company, the mention of then made his skin crawl. He'd stumbled onto a few of their knights in the last few days. If he hadn't been at Hightowers side he would have surely died 10 times over by now. He took a closer look at the soldier, there were various small scratches on him and he was somewhat gaunt. He looked around the camp, finding the same situation everywhere he looked. "May I asked what your name is?"
"Baelish, Alaric Baelish, I'm a knight in the service of Lord Corbray.
"I see." He nodded as he recalled the lessons of his maester and the lecture on house Corbray. "I heard Corbray and his men had the rough of it Recently, Maelys almost killed lord Corbray in a duel."
"I was there." He continued as he grabbed some more food and poured it into his plate. "Corbray was the warrior himself with Lady Forlorn," he said as he chewed on his food. "But Maelys was the stranger himself. Next thing you know he knocks Corbray to the ground and the Golden company charges us. I've no idea how I got out of there alive, we spent a lot of lives to get Corbray and his precious little sword out of there."
He nodded along as the knight continued his story. House Corbray like a lot of the landed nobility of Westeros held their Valyrian steel sword as sacred. He recalled his Maesters lessons back in Summerhall again, "Many have offered a kingdoms ransom for a Valyrian steel sword." Maester Corso would say. "But even the poorest houses would rather be reduced to beggary than ever give up their Valyrian steel sword."
"What a waste." He gasped a little as he realized what he'd just said. He looked around for a moment, hoping no one heard what he'd said. He realized no one was around his fire and the other mix of levies, knights, squires and camp followers were caught up in their own conversation. He looked back at Baelish who kept eating. "I'm sorry if I sounded denigrating towards lord Corbray. I understand some houses view their Valyrian steel sword as precious."
Baelish looked up at him, "I'd rather have the men who died for that sword be alive if you want my opinion."
He couldn't help but nod and smile a little. "Me too Baelish, me too."
Baelish finished eating his plate, "would you like another plate my prince?"
"Su-"
"Brother!" Aerys' voice cut him off as he glanced over at him. He was walking alongside Tywin Lannister and Steffon Baratheon. "Glad to see you're also still alive." He sat down between him and Baelish. "You." He said to Baelish, "fill up a bowl. Your future king is hungry."
Baelish' expression turned blank and he merely nodded. "As you wish my prince." He leaned over to the fire and scooped up more stew, putting some on Aerys plate and handing the ladle to him.
"Gods." Aerys sighed as he dug in. "I swear I'd offer my wife to the stranger if it meant a bloody plate of Dornish Sausages and some Arbor red." He chowed down on his food regardless, clearing his plate in a few seconds. He handed the plate back to Baelish' then looked at him. "Brother. Lord Hightower is looking for you, says they're having a strategy meeting."
"I see." He sighed and stood up, looking for Hightowers tent. "Aren't you going to join us brother?"
"Later." He shrugged. "It's not like I'm planning the damn campaign, that's all Hightowers job, a Prince's job is to ride at the front and cut down any bastard that dares to threaten his family's throne."
"As you say." He spotted Lord Hightowers tent and began to make his way through it and glanced back at his brother and his friends. He saw Baelish, clearly trying to not make a bad impression on his brother, a future lord Paramount and the Lord Paramount of the Storm lands. He made a mental note to find Baelish and bring him into his service, perhaps as a sworn shield, he did after all appreciate his honesty.
He approached lord Hightowers tent and tried to neaten his hair as best he could and entered, finding Lord Hightower speaking with lords Tully, Arryn, Stark and the Prince of Dorne. "You called for me?"
"Yes." He nodded, pointing to the seat besides him. He walked to the table in the center of the tent, a map of the Stepstones shown in the center. He'd gotten a lot done in the last few months ever since he'd been tasked with assisting Lord Hightower in planning the campaign, having secured several islands in the Stepstones and setting the stage for an assault on Bloodstone. He was slowly coming to understand why people like Rudolf the great took power for themselves, the authority they commanded just by their name alone was alluring. At the end of the day, he was and in a sense still is Yang Wen-Li, an admiral of the Free Planets Alliance. He gave his life for the Republican cause, and he'd be damned if he found himself praising Monarchical rule.
As he sat down he looked around, everyone in the room seemed determined, something big was about to happen, and he thought he knew what it was. "I'm assuming we're finally about to assault Bloodstone?"
"Indeed." Lord Hightower nodded as he pointed to the island in the center of the Stepstones. "The war is at a balance now. If we fail in this battle, then the path to Westeros will be open to Maelys and his Ilk. The seas around this section of Bloodstone are ours." He pointed to the part of Bloodstone that faced Westeros. "Maelys knows he needs to hold Bloodstone if he wants his campaign for the throne to be viable. And he can't keep full control of the seas thanks to our fleets."
"But he also knows where we'll land." He said as he pointed to the same spot. If we try to force a landing we'll certainly take losses. And if we get bled enough we'll lose what hold we have on the Stepstones, is that right?"
"Indeed." Lord Tully interjected. "We're stuck at an impasse unfortunately. And time isn't on our side, as we speak, the other Ninepenny Kings are hiring more sellswords in mainland Essos. We may have the numbers advance with our levies and men, but those are battle hardened sellswords they're gathering."
"Thank you Lord Tully." Lord Commander Hightower looked at him. "What is your recommendation my prince?"
"Give me a moment." He looked down at the map, it was highly detailed with an exact geographic layout of each island, as well as supply routes and relevant landing sites that could be used as ports. The more he looked at the map, the more his plan came together. "His supply depot is most likely there." He pointed towards the section of Bloodstone facing the Essosi mainland, it was a cove known as Salty Maw. "If he realizes that his supply lines are in danger and that he'll be cut off. His forces will panic and rout, then we can end this war once and for all."
"We'll need to plan out an assault, prepare supplies and ship-"
"Allow me to organize everything and lead the assault." He spoke up again, cutting off lord Hightower.
"My prince." Lord Hightower spoke with a concerned tone. "This assault is a delicate operation, if something goes wron-."
"It won't, as long as I lead it."
Lord Hightower looked around the room, then at him. He didn't want to do this, but he also didn't want to send people to their near certain deaths while he sat safely besides Lord Hightower in the front or in the back of the lines coordinating the course of the battle, just like the War Hawks of the Free Planets Alliance. "Very well my prince, but you'll be under heavy guard this time. Ser Harlan Grandison of the Kingsguard will accompany you this time."
"As you wish Lord Commander. Let me start going over the plans for the assault proper."
--
"Prince Jaehaerys, we'll be landing shortly." He turned to see Ser Harlan Grandison standing behind him, his hand on the pommel of his sword. He'd served his family since shortly after his birth, having been appointed by his Grandfather King Aegon. He was a burly man, tall for a Stormlander with greying hairs, if he could summarize his looks, it would be as if Fleet Admiral Bewcock lost weight and picked up a sword.
Personality wise however he was the opposite, he was a gruff man of few words. Speaking only when he deemed it appropriate such as right now. "Thank you ser, are the rest of the men ready?"
"Indeed, the men are ready."
"Good." He could hear the faint sounds of the waves as they soared through them and approached the island. It was the middle of the night, the moon was at half, it's light being one of the few things allowing them to navigate through the seas. He'd had smugglers and scouts map out the area and chart the waters, all so they could land undetected. It was dangerous work, especially with all the patrol ships nearby. But if they wanted to end this war it was a necessary evil.
A few minutes passed and they landed, they were in a smaller cove a few leagues from Salty Maw. It was one of the various hideouts used by pirates stopping through Bloodstone. They had 5 ironborn Longships, a little over 400 men in total, rowers, Marines and footmen. They dropped him off with his men, leaving only 200 men with which he was to assault Maelys the Monstrous supply depot. They bid farewell to the ships, watching them sail off and come out of sight after a minute.
He glanced back at his men and they marched into a nearby cave on the cove that one of the scouts pointed out. They camped there all night, sleeping in shifts. His dreams were the same as before, his old friends and wife in his old life, followed by the nightly nightmare of his wife asking why he left them all.
He woke up to his men looking at him with a concerned look. "My prince." Ser Harlan spoke. "Is everything alright. You seem as if."
"It's fine." He cut him off as he stood up and checked his armor. "What of the battle? Has it started?"
"Not yet."
"Have everyone check their equipment and get ready to march as soon as the orders are given.
"Yes my prince."
They readied themselves, putting on their weapons and armor then marching out of the caves. He'd split them into groups of 10, each group having a mix of melee and ranged fighters. His 200 men were composed of 30 knights; 100 footmen armed with melee weapons ranging from short swords, to halberds; 40 crossbow men and 30 archers.
They slowly approached the supply camp, marching slowly to ensure no one spotted them, killing any scouts they came across. An hour later and they were on high ground overlooking the camp. He took out the Myrish eye he'd been given by Lord Commander Hightower and took a look at the camp. He could make out the banners of the Golden company in the center, along with the symbol of the city of Tyrosh and various other sellsword companies, Second Sons, The Company of the Cat, the Stormcrows. Tully was right that Maelys had gone all out with the sellswords.
As they watched, he heard what seemed like an alarm bell ringing in the camp. He gripped his sword tightly with his free hand until he saw Maelys the Monstrous emerge from his tent. He was a unit of a man, wielding a large sword. He reckoned if Schenkopp fought him he might win if he used a standard issue pistol to surprise him with a killing shot. Outside of that, in a straight melee fight Schenkopp would have been killed.
He saw various knights rally around Maelys, he recognized some of their shields, House Peake, Cole, Fossoway, all party to Maelys' cause. As he continued watching, he saw more men stream out of the camp, making their way to the landing site. "They're getting started." He put his Myrish eye down and looked at Ser Grandison on his left, then to Baelish on his right. "We'll start the assault once the fighting on our side is under way."
They waited in position, watching and listening as the battle started. An hour passed and he saw the wounded enter the camp, first as a trickle then as a steady wave. He looked around the camp intermittently, the healers and maesters walking around and tending to the men. Once he saw that the camp was starting to be filled up with the wounded he nodded and tapped the ground three times with his hand. Grandison and Baelish did the same, followed by the others, the time had come.
JaphetSkie
Getting sticky.
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It's a Japanese space opera series. It involves a centuries-long war between the Galactic Empire and the Free Planets Alliance. It's got massive space battles (and I do mean MASSIVE, like tens of thousands of ships in each side at minimum) and decent political intrigue.
The story is focused on two protagonists: Reinhard von Lohengramm on the Imperial side, and Yang Wen-li on the Alliance side. Both are competent commanders on their own right.
Blackfyre
New
Alenco98
Getting sticky.
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Damn them all to hell! Maelys and his men rode furiously as they retreated back to their base camp. They were winning, on their way to driving the rebels back to the sea and into Westeros proper. But instead a messenger had come and informed him that his base of operations was under attack. They were forced to give up the hard fought ground they gained from the rebels in order to defend their position. He swore to himself he would string up the bastard that dared to humiliate him like this if he got his hands on him.
As they rode into the camp he could feel the rage well up inside him. Many tents around the camp were on fire. Many of his men who'd returned after being wounded lay dead or dying. He rode toward the center of the camp, finding his own tent on fire as well. Deana!! Damn it!
He jumped off his horse, entering his tent and finding nothing. He looked frantically, for both his wife Daena and step daughter Serra, finding neither of them inside. A few moments later he looked at the back and felt a black rage. The spear holding his grandfather's Golden Skull, as well as Blackfyre. He exited the tent, resisting the urge to kill the next person that spoke to him. As he looked towards the beach he found the makeshift dock he'd ordered to be made on fire as well.
"You!" He called to one of his knights who wore the sigil of house Peake.
"Your grace?" He bowed his head despite being mounted.
"Get some riders and pursue the bastards that did this, Bring Serra and Daena back to me alive. As well as whoever masterminded this."
"What about the rest of his men?"
"What about them?"
"Yes my lord." The knight rode off, leaving Maelys in the middle of his camp as he began the effort to Rally his men. They may have struck a blow. But the battle wasn't lost yet. "Everyone!" He roared as loudly as possible. "Get the camp in order, put out the fires and start fortifying. The day is not yet lost." He glanced towards the battlefield he'd run from and got in his horse, one way or another the day would be his.
--
Jaehaerys (Yang Wen-Li)
"Run faster!" He was panting for air, following Ser Harlan as they went up the hill and into the jungles. The raid had gone off without a hitch, having pulled out as they heard a detachment of heavy cavalry approaching the camp.
What he didn't expect was that Maelys had gone as far as to marry the Wife of the cousin he killed, and that said wife had a daughter with Daemon. He made a mental note to speak to the master of whispers about this if he ever survived this battle. Right now however, his biggest worry was carrying the three year old girl he'd snatched from Maelys' tent along with his so-called wife, Bittersteels' skull as well as Blackfyre.
He glanced back to look at her, Daena Blackfyre, sister wife and widow to Daemon Blackfyre, a grandson of Haegon Blackfyre. Her looks greatly resembled Frederica, save the silver hair and purple eyes all people from his house had.
He banished the thoughts of his wife from his old life and focused, wanting to get through the day. "Just a little longer!" He called out to no one in particular. "We just need to make it to the beach!"
They continued their mad dash, fortunately the jungle they were in was no friendly place for horses. This didn't meant they could rest easy, he could hear the enemy closing in behind him, their footsteps and angry cries echoing behind them.
A few minutes passed and the jungle cleared, revealing several hills in front of them. He looked back for a moment, the voices of the enemy too close for comfort and back for the hell. Damn it we're not going to make it at this rate. "Make for the hills, we'll hold them off there!" It was a good position he reckoned with himself, but only as long as he could hold out. They rushed up the hill, immediately getting into a makeshift formation as more of their men emerged from the jungle to follow them.
As he got into position, he saw the last of his men emerge from the jungles, only for him to be cut down by arrows. He turned to Baelish. "Go to Hightower, tell him to bring reinforcements. Give him this." He handed him Bittersteels' skull as well as the spike it was held on. "He'll believe you if you show him this go!"
He patted him on the back, watching as he ran from their positions and left the hill they were standing on and making their way towards the beach where the rest of the royal forces were.
He glanced at his men, of the 200 he had with him when he launched his raid he estimated he had a little over half of them left, that was if he didn't include his Blackfyre guests. He put the remaining crossbowmen and archers in the second line, lining up the footmen in front and placing himself there. He dropped the sword he was wielding from the flood and withdrew Blackfyre from it's pommel. It felt lighter than the sword he wore despite it being a 2 handed sword. He drew his shield as well and put it up.
"Shoot them as they come up!"
He saw the enemy come up the hill, followed by the arrows from his ranged levies striking some of them down. The survivors rushed to engage him, he struck at the first man he engaged, for a moment he expected his sword to parry his current enemy's sword, but as he heard the sound of steel breaking he was reminded that he was wielding Valyrian steel and he cut him down with ease.
He didn't remember when his archers and crossbowmen ran out of arrows, only that he saw a few of them join in the fighting. There was no point in counting how many people he killed with Blackfyre, survival was what mattered. As the minutes passed, he saw the hill he was on being littered by dead bodies, mostly enemy soldiers but quite a few of his own.
At some point he found himself on top of the hill, down to barely a little over three dozen men and countless dead bodies littered all around while on his back was a woman and a child he scarcely knew. As he saw the next wave of enemies come up the hill, he remarked his small the number of corpses were on this hill, at least compared to the millions he condemned to die. He looked down at his hands for a moment, stained red with blood, his and the ones of the men he killed. It was strange though, he felt no guilt at this moment, no pity, only soreness in his body. He snapped back to reality as he saw the enemy get close.
One, two, three, he tried to count the men he killed in this wave of enemies. As he caught his breath after the 10th one, he looked around and realized there were only 10 men on this hill, including Daena and Serra. He looked back down the hill, finding more men moving in towards them. He looked back at Daena and Serra and bowed his head slightly. "It seems we won't make it out of this. I'm sorry." He shrugged and gave a half hearted smile as she nodded and seemingly sighed in acceptance, sitting down on the grass with her daughter and holding her tightly while she hummed s Valyrian lullaby.
As he was about to engage this next wave he heard screaming from below the hill, followed by the sound of hooves. The enemy stopped and looked towards the west as did he, finding the banners of house Hightower closing in. You did it. He breathed a sigh of relief as the Hightower cavalry closed in and cut down the enemy.
--
The White Bull
Gerold descended from his horse as the last of the rebels were scattered from the hill. He looked up, finding prince Jaehaerys holding a 2 handed sword and a shield. He had a lot of questions to ask him, but the questionable choice of weapons was the last one on his list.
He turned to one of his men, a knight from house Manderly, "secure the area around the hill."
"Yes my lord." The Manderly Knight looked around and raised his sword. "Men! Clear out everything around the hill, protect your prince!"
Half a hundred knights and their squires followed him as they took positions around the hill. Gerold in the meantime walked up the hill with another half a hundred men, the hill was rocky, with rocks ranging from the size of a pebble to boulders scattered around. It was steep, with parts of it forcing him to almost crawl.
As he ascended he noticed the dead bodies scattered around the hill, mostly Golden company men, but as he got closer he noticed the occasional men from houses that remained loyal to house Targaryen. He finally stood face to face with the prince. He was covered in blood from head to toe, still panting for air and holding his weapons. He took a closer look at it, then realized. "My prince, is that?"
"Blackfyre. I raided Maelys' tent and found it. I also found them." He pointed to a woman holding a small child.
"And who might they be?"
"Daena Blackfyre, widow to Daemon Blackfyre and current wife of Maelys the Monstrous. The same Daemon that Maelys killed to take over the Golden company. The girl is Daemon and Daena's daughter Serra."
Gerold said nothing, surprised by this revelation. It was known Daemon Blackfyre was married. But to think he had a child as well. She must have been born right after Daemon was killed.
"I will take her under my protection. The king will determine what to do with her."
"What about my daughter?" Daena held on tightly to her.
"On my honor as a Kingsguard, I promise we won't harm her."
"And what will you do? Force her into the silent sisters? Make her take the vows of a Septa and have her waste away in a mother house in a land I've never lived in?"
There was venom in her voice, but this was exactly what he planned on proposing to the King.
"I don't think we need to resort to that." Jaehaerys interjected.
"Then what do you suggest? The wall doesn't take women. The only other way would be by the sword."
Daena glared at him and put her daughter down and placed herself in front of her. "If you want to kill me do as you will. As long as my daughter is safe."
Jaehaerys only chuckled at that. "That's not what I was thinking princess."
"Then what?" She asked, the venom in her voice faded a little.
"Your daughter can marry Rhaegar, and I can marry you. Once Maelys' is gone, we can bind our houses together.
Gerold could see the potential of this proposal. "I will bring this up to the king. In the meantime however, let take you all back to our landing site."
--
Aerys
"Charge!" Aerys waved his sword forward as he rode towards the Knights of the Golden Company. Gwayne Gaunt of the Kingsguard rode besides him, as well as Tywin Lannister and Steffon Baratheon. Behind them were the combined might of the Stormlands, Crownlands, and Westerlands. He wasn't going to let his brother get all the glory for himself, he may have caught one of the band of nine through tricks. But he, the future king would bring honor to his house by slaying Maelys' the Monstrous.
He could see them now, the knights of the Golden company getting closer and closer. His brothers ruse had worked and they were forced back. Now they were on even ground, no longer struggling as they slogged up the highground. Though he hated his brother's use of tricks it had it's uses. Once he was king his brother would have a place in his council, he was too lazy to be hand, that would go to Tywin for sure. Maybe master of laws, or even whispers, it didn't matter though, for now, it was his moment.
The choir of clanging swords and screams began as their horses crossed. He caught a knight of house Peake in the head, managing to get him off balance the proceeding to wound his horse and watching him collapse on the ground. His screams as he was trampled were so amusing he couldn't help but laugh a little as he sunk his sword into the armor of someone wearing the armor of house Cole.
"Die! Die! Die!" He laughed as he cut down more men on the battlefield. This was what he was made for, swinging the sword and bringing glory to his family. His brother may be obsessed with his books but when it came to fighting even he couldn't touch him.
It was then that he saw him, black armor, an ugly misshapen face bulging from his neck. It was his time. He rode hard, cutting down any man that stood between him and his prey, "Targaryen!" He yelled as he swung his sword at Maelys' the Monstrous, he seemed surprised for a moment, parrying his strike and fulling turning to face him. A moment passed, and his surprised expression turned into a smile.
"So the dragon came out to play." He swung his sword at Aerys, a Monstrous longsword almost twice as long as his short sword. He managed to parry it, his youth and vigor checking his strike, but he could feel the vibration of the strike in his bones.
Maelys' continued, inflicting blow after blow on him as he barely carried the strikes. He could feel his arm going numb as he tried to stand his ground. The brief frustration he felt turned to fear, another strike came, he felt a spasm of pain come up his arm. Maelys raised his sword again to strike him, he raised his arm to parry but found the pain agonizing. As if on instinct he raised his shield, catching the blow and falling off his horse. He tried to get up, only for him to realize Maelys was swinging his sword down at him again, he caught it with his shield, he felt as if his bones were breaking. I'm going to die.
He thought about Rhaella, though he was never in love with her he had grown fond of her. Her smile and mannerisms making his heart flutter on occasion, and it helped that she was comely and pleasing to his eyes. His thoughts then shifted to his son Rhaegar, the babe he left as he went off to war. He wondered what kind of king he'd be until he heard the clanging of swords above him, he looked up, finding a knight with the symbol of house Selmy engaging him, "my prince!" He turned to where the voice came from, finding Ser Gwayne Gaunt holding a hand to help him up. "I thought I lost you in the midst of all the finding, come."
He turned to Maelys, in the middle of his duel with the knight of house Selmy. Damn it. "Thank you ser Gaunt."
He mounted the horse and went back to their base. "Thank you ser," he said in a gruff tone as he looked back to Maelys struggling in his duel.
"There's nothing to be ashamed of my prince." Ser Gaunt started. "Lesser men would have fallen to Maelys the Monstrous by now. You've more than proven your worth." A petty consolation.
Thank you ser Gaunt.
--
Aerys
Aerys found himself back in their Basecamp inside the royal tent, the cheers outside grating in his ears. The knight from house Selmy, Barristan had bested Maelys. The Golden Company lay routed and were in full retreat, while he languished here as the Maester finished treating him, having informed him his arm had been slightly dislocated. He rubbed his shoulder, the pain from the Maester resetting his bone still bugging him.
"Thank you maester." He glanced outside the tent, hearing a commotion as he heard people cheering once again, What the hells is that?
He went outside, opening his tent and finding the men around him heading towards the center. "Your prince is walking, make way." He barked as he made his way to the center of this commotion. A few minutes later he found what he came for, Lord Commander Hightower returning with his brother and his men. His brother rode a destrier behind Hightower, but he wasn't the only person on the destrier. A woman and a girl with Valyrian looks rode with him as well, and he had a longsword on his belt. Didn't he use a shortsword?
They dismounted, Hightower first followed by his brother and the girls on his horse. Hightower looked around for a moment then met eyes with him. "My prince." He bowed his head slightly. "The mission was a success. What news from the battlefield?"
"Maelys is dead, the day is won." It was a bittersweet statement, he was supposed to kill him, not some damn knight from the Stormlands. As he said that however, the woman besides Yang breathed a sigh of relief and smiled.
"And who might you be my lady?" He smiled at her, she was comelier than Rhaella that was for sure, if he couldn't gain glory, mayhaps the embrace of a beautiful woman would soothe his wounded pride. And the gods only knew how long it had been since he'd been with a woman ever since he'd gone to this gods forsaken wasteland to fight.
"Daena, Daena of house Blackfyre." She said as she stepped forward with pride in her voice. "And this is my daughter Serra." She held her hand as she gently pulled her forwards.
"Blackfyre." He hissed as the others around the camp gave her a look filled with venom.
"It's alright brother." Jaehaerys stepped forward. "I have an idea on how to solve this. I also found this."
He drew the longsword he held, he recognized the glow of the metal immediately. "Valyrian steel. Don't tell me, is that?"
"Indeed, it's Blackfyre. I believe it belongs to you. You're to be king after father is gone right?" He held out the sword as well as it's sheath, it's glow was hypnotizing.
"It's....it's beautiful." He grabbed the sword by it's pommel and held it up in the air, it's glow being amplified by the sun. The knights and soldiers around him cheered. His pride may have been wounded, but this was more than enough to make up for it. My sword, my family's sword. He put on the sheath on his hip and sheathed it back. He looked at his brother and hugged him tightly. "Brother!" He would have his place in his council, no, he had to have a place. A capable younger brother, and one that knew his place, everything a future king could ask for.
"I do have a request however brother." Jaehaerys broke his silence. He felt slightly annoyed, he wanted to have this moment to himself and bask in the glory of it, but he couldn't reject his own brother.
"Name it." He said as he stopped hugging him and stood face to face.
"Daena and Serra. I think I have a way to deal with them, something that wouldn't involve the silent sisters or disposing of them."
"Such as?"
"Well." Jaehaerys put his right arm behind his head and chuckled nervously. "I'm still not betrothed, and Daena was just made a widow thanks to Barristan's effort. And Serra is close to Rhaegar's age. Why not bind them by blood? I can marry Daena and Serra can marry Rhaegar. Could you pitch this idea to father? If the two of us convince him, it might convince him."
He pondered it for a moment, he thought about having a tumble with her then having his father send her off to the silent sisters. But if Jaehaerys married her, he could have her all to himself as often as he wanted. And Rhaegar, combining his claim along with house Blackfyre would do a lot to legitimize his rule in the future.
"Yes, of course." He nodded as he began to mentally undress Daena.
As they rode into the camp he could feel the rage well up inside him. Many tents around the camp were on fire. Many of his men who'd returned after being wounded lay dead or dying. He rode toward the center of the camp, finding his own tent on fire as well. Deana!! Damn it!
He jumped off his horse, entering his tent and finding nothing. He looked frantically, for both his wife Daena and step daughter Serra, finding neither of them inside. A few moments later he looked at the back and felt a black rage. The spear holding his grandfather's Golden Skull, as well as Blackfyre. He exited the tent, resisting the urge to kill the next person that spoke to him. As he looked towards the beach he found the makeshift dock he'd ordered to be made on fire as well.
"You!" He called to one of his knights who wore the sigil of house Peake.
"Your grace?" He bowed his head despite being mounted.
"Get some riders and pursue the bastards that did this, Bring Serra and Daena back to me alive. As well as whoever masterminded this."
"What about the rest of his men?"
"What about them?"
"Yes my lord." The knight rode off, leaving Maelys in the middle of his camp as he began the effort to Rally his men. They may have struck a blow. But the battle wasn't lost yet. "Everyone!" He roared as loudly as possible. "Get the camp in order, put out the fires and start fortifying. The day is not yet lost." He glanced towards the battlefield he'd run from and got in his horse, one way or another the day would be his.
--
Jaehaerys (Yang Wen-Li)
"Run faster!" He was panting for air, following Ser Harlan as they went up the hill and into the jungles. The raid had gone off without a hitch, having pulled out as they heard a detachment of heavy cavalry approaching the camp.
What he didn't expect was that Maelys had gone as far as to marry the Wife of the cousin he killed, and that said wife had a daughter with Daemon. He made a mental note to speak to the master of whispers about this if he ever survived this battle. Right now however, his biggest worry was carrying the three year old girl he'd snatched from Maelys' tent along with his so-called wife, Bittersteels' skull as well as Blackfyre.
He glanced back to look at her, Daena Blackfyre, sister wife and widow to Daemon Blackfyre, a grandson of Haegon Blackfyre. Her looks greatly resembled Frederica, save the silver hair and purple eyes all people from his house had.
He banished the thoughts of his wife from his old life and focused, wanting to get through the day. "Just a little longer!" He called out to no one in particular. "We just need to make it to the beach!"
They continued their mad dash, fortunately the jungle they were in was no friendly place for horses. This didn't meant they could rest easy, he could hear the enemy closing in behind him, their footsteps and angry cries echoing behind them.
A few minutes passed and the jungle cleared, revealing several hills in front of them. He looked back for a moment, the voices of the enemy too close for comfort and back for the hell. Damn it we're not going to make it at this rate. "Make for the hills, we'll hold them off there!" It was a good position he reckoned with himself, but only as long as he could hold out. They rushed up the hill, immediately getting into a makeshift formation as more of their men emerged from the jungle to follow them.
As he got into position, he saw the last of his men emerge from the jungles, only for him to be cut down by arrows. He turned to Baelish. "Go to Hightower, tell him to bring reinforcements. Give him this." He handed him Bittersteels' skull as well as the spike it was held on. "He'll believe you if you show him this go!"
He patted him on the back, watching as he ran from their positions and left the hill they were standing on and making their way towards the beach where the rest of the royal forces were.
He glanced at his men, of the 200 he had with him when he launched his raid he estimated he had a little over half of them left, that was if he didn't include his Blackfyre guests. He put the remaining crossbowmen and archers in the second line, lining up the footmen in front and placing himself there. He dropped the sword he was wielding from the flood and withdrew Blackfyre from it's pommel. It felt lighter than the sword he wore despite it being a 2 handed sword. He drew his shield as well and put it up.
"Shoot them as they come up!"
He saw the enemy come up the hill, followed by the arrows from his ranged levies striking some of them down. The survivors rushed to engage him, he struck at the first man he engaged, for a moment he expected his sword to parry his current enemy's sword, but as he heard the sound of steel breaking he was reminded that he was wielding Valyrian steel and he cut him down with ease.
He didn't remember when his archers and crossbowmen ran out of arrows, only that he saw a few of them join in the fighting. There was no point in counting how many people he killed with Blackfyre, survival was what mattered. As the minutes passed, he saw the hill he was on being littered by dead bodies, mostly enemy soldiers but quite a few of his own.
At some point he found himself on top of the hill, down to barely a little over three dozen men and countless dead bodies littered all around while on his back was a woman and a child he scarcely knew. As he saw the next wave of enemies come up the hill, he remarked his small the number of corpses were on this hill, at least compared to the millions he condemned to die. He looked down at his hands for a moment, stained red with blood, his and the ones of the men he killed. It was strange though, he felt no guilt at this moment, no pity, only soreness in his body. He snapped back to reality as he saw the enemy get close.
One, two, three, he tried to count the men he killed in this wave of enemies. As he caught his breath after the 10th one, he looked around and realized there were only 10 men on this hill, including Daena and Serra. He looked back down the hill, finding more men moving in towards them. He looked back at Daena and Serra and bowed his head slightly. "It seems we won't make it out of this. I'm sorry." He shrugged and gave a half hearted smile as she nodded and seemingly sighed in acceptance, sitting down on the grass with her daughter and holding her tightly while she hummed s Valyrian lullaby.
As he was about to engage this next wave he heard screaming from below the hill, followed by the sound of hooves. The enemy stopped and looked towards the west as did he, finding the banners of house Hightower closing in. You did it. He breathed a sigh of relief as the Hightower cavalry closed in and cut down the enemy.
--
The White Bull
Gerold descended from his horse as the last of the rebels were scattered from the hill. He looked up, finding prince Jaehaerys holding a 2 handed sword and a shield. He had a lot of questions to ask him, but the questionable choice of weapons was the last one on his list.
He turned to one of his men, a knight from house Manderly, "secure the area around the hill."
"Yes my lord." The Manderly Knight looked around and raised his sword. "Men! Clear out everything around the hill, protect your prince!"
Half a hundred knights and their squires followed him as they took positions around the hill. Gerold in the meantime walked up the hill with another half a hundred men, the hill was rocky, with rocks ranging from the size of a pebble to boulders scattered around. It was steep, with parts of it forcing him to almost crawl.
As he ascended he noticed the dead bodies scattered around the hill, mostly Golden company men, but as he got closer he noticed the occasional men from houses that remained loyal to house Targaryen. He finally stood face to face with the prince. He was covered in blood from head to toe, still panting for air and holding his weapons. He took a closer look at it, then realized. "My prince, is that?"
"Blackfyre. I raided Maelys' tent and found it. I also found them." He pointed to a woman holding a small child.
"And who might they be?"
"Daena Blackfyre, widow to Daemon Blackfyre and current wife of Maelys the Monstrous. The same Daemon that Maelys killed to take over the Golden company. The girl is Daemon and Daena's daughter Serra."
Gerold said nothing, surprised by this revelation. It was known Daemon Blackfyre was married. But to think he had a child as well. She must have been born right after Daemon was killed.
"I will take her under my protection. The king will determine what to do with her."
"What about my daughter?" Daena held on tightly to her.
"On my honor as a Kingsguard, I promise we won't harm her."
"And what will you do? Force her into the silent sisters? Make her take the vows of a Septa and have her waste away in a mother house in a land I've never lived in?"
There was venom in her voice, but this was exactly what he planned on proposing to the King.
"I don't think we need to resort to that." Jaehaerys interjected.
"Then what do you suggest? The wall doesn't take women. The only other way would be by the sword."
Daena glared at him and put her daughter down and placed herself in front of her. "If you want to kill me do as you will. As long as my daughter is safe."
Jaehaerys only chuckled at that. "That's not what I was thinking princess."
"Then what?" She asked, the venom in her voice faded a little.
"Your daughter can marry Rhaegar, and I can marry you. Once Maelys' is gone, we can bind our houses together.
Gerold could see the potential of this proposal. "I will bring this up to the king. In the meantime however, let take you all back to our landing site."
--
Aerys
"Charge!" Aerys waved his sword forward as he rode towards the Knights of the Golden Company. Gwayne Gaunt of the Kingsguard rode besides him, as well as Tywin Lannister and Steffon Baratheon. Behind them were the combined might of the Stormlands, Crownlands, and Westerlands. He wasn't going to let his brother get all the glory for himself, he may have caught one of the band of nine through tricks. But he, the future king would bring honor to his house by slaying Maelys' the Monstrous.
He could see them now, the knights of the Golden company getting closer and closer. His brothers ruse had worked and they were forced back. Now they were on even ground, no longer struggling as they slogged up the highground. Though he hated his brother's use of tricks it had it's uses. Once he was king his brother would have a place in his council, he was too lazy to be hand, that would go to Tywin for sure. Maybe master of laws, or even whispers, it didn't matter though, for now, it was his moment.
The choir of clanging swords and screams began as their horses crossed. He caught a knight of house Peake in the head, managing to get him off balance the proceeding to wound his horse and watching him collapse on the ground. His screams as he was trampled were so amusing he couldn't help but laugh a little as he sunk his sword into the armor of someone wearing the armor of house Cole.
"Die! Die! Die!" He laughed as he cut down more men on the battlefield. This was what he was made for, swinging the sword and bringing glory to his family. His brother may be obsessed with his books but when it came to fighting even he couldn't touch him.
It was then that he saw him, black armor, an ugly misshapen face bulging from his neck. It was his time. He rode hard, cutting down any man that stood between him and his prey, "Targaryen!" He yelled as he swung his sword at Maelys' the Monstrous, he seemed surprised for a moment, parrying his strike and fulling turning to face him. A moment passed, and his surprised expression turned into a smile.
"So the dragon came out to play." He swung his sword at Aerys, a Monstrous longsword almost twice as long as his short sword. He managed to parry it, his youth and vigor checking his strike, but he could feel the vibration of the strike in his bones.
Maelys' continued, inflicting blow after blow on him as he barely carried the strikes. He could feel his arm going numb as he tried to stand his ground. The brief frustration he felt turned to fear, another strike came, he felt a spasm of pain come up his arm. Maelys raised his sword again to strike him, he raised his arm to parry but found the pain agonizing. As if on instinct he raised his shield, catching the blow and falling off his horse. He tried to get up, only for him to realize Maelys was swinging his sword down at him again, he caught it with his shield, he felt as if his bones were breaking. I'm going to die.
He thought about Rhaella, though he was never in love with her he had grown fond of her. Her smile and mannerisms making his heart flutter on occasion, and it helped that she was comely and pleasing to his eyes. His thoughts then shifted to his son Rhaegar, the babe he left as he went off to war. He wondered what kind of king he'd be until he heard the clanging of swords above him, he looked up, finding a knight with the symbol of house Selmy engaging him, "my prince!" He turned to where the voice came from, finding Ser Gwayne Gaunt holding a hand to help him up. "I thought I lost you in the midst of all the finding, come."
He turned to Maelys, in the middle of his duel with the knight of house Selmy. Damn it. "Thank you ser Gaunt."
He mounted the horse and went back to their base. "Thank you ser," he said in a gruff tone as he looked back to Maelys struggling in his duel.
"There's nothing to be ashamed of my prince." Ser Gaunt started. "Lesser men would have fallen to Maelys the Monstrous by now. You've more than proven your worth." A petty consolation.
Thank you ser Gaunt.
--
Aerys
Aerys found himself back in their Basecamp inside the royal tent, the cheers outside grating in his ears. The knight from house Selmy, Barristan had bested Maelys. The Golden Company lay routed and were in full retreat, while he languished here as the Maester finished treating him, having informed him his arm had been slightly dislocated. He rubbed his shoulder, the pain from the Maester resetting his bone still bugging him.
"Thank you maester." He glanced outside the tent, hearing a commotion as he heard people cheering once again, What the hells is that?
He went outside, opening his tent and finding the men around him heading towards the center. "Your prince is walking, make way." He barked as he made his way to the center of this commotion. A few minutes later he found what he came for, Lord Commander Hightower returning with his brother and his men. His brother rode a destrier behind Hightower, but he wasn't the only person on the destrier. A woman and a girl with Valyrian looks rode with him as well, and he had a longsword on his belt. Didn't he use a shortsword?
They dismounted, Hightower first followed by his brother and the girls on his horse. Hightower looked around for a moment then met eyes with him. "My prince." He bowed his head slightly. "The mission was a success. What news from the battlefield?"
"Maelys is dead, the day is won." It was a bittersweet statement, he was supposed to kill him, not some damn knight from the Stormlands. As he said that however, the woman besides Yang breathed a sigh of relief and smiled.
"And who might you be my lady?" He smiled at her, she was comelier than Rhaella that was for sure, if he couldn't gain glory, mayhaps the embrace of a beautiful woman would soothe his wounded pride. And the gods only knew how long it had been since he'd been with a woman ever since he'd gone to this gods forsaken wasteland to fight.
"Daena, Daena of house Blackfyre." She said as she stepped forward with pride in her voice. "And this is my daughter Serra." She held her hand as she gently pulled her forwards.
"Blackfyre." He hissed as the others around the camp gave her a look filled with venom.
"It's alright brother." Jaehaerys stepped forward. "I have an idea on how to solve this. I also found this."
He drew the longsword he held, he recognized the glow of the metal immediately. "Valyrian steel. Don't tell me, is that?"
"Indeed, it's Blackfyre. I believe it belongs to you. You're to be king after father is gone right?" He held out the sword as well as it's sheath, it's glow was hypnotizing.
"It's....it's beautiful." He grabbed the sword by it's pommel and held it up in the air, it's glow being amplified by the sun. The knights and soldiers around him cheered. His pride may have been wounded, but this was more than enough to make up for it. My sword, my family's sword. He put on the sheath on his hip and sheathed it back. He looked at his brother and hugged him tightly. "Brother!" He would have his place in his council, no, he had to have a place. A capable younger brother, and one that knew his place, everything a future king could ask for.
"I do have a request however brother." Jaehaerys broke his silence. He felt slightly annoyed, he wanted to have this moment to himself and bask in the glory of it, but he couldn't reject his own brother.
"Name it." He said as he stopped hugging him and stood face to face.
"Daena and Serra. I think I have a way to deal with them, something that wouldn't involve the silent sisters or disposing of them."
"Such as?"
"Well." Jaehaerys put his right arm behind his head and chuckled nervously. "I'm still not betrothed, and Daena was just made a widow thanks to Barristan's effort. And Serra is close to Rhaegar's age. Why not bind them by blood? I can marry Daena and Serra can marry Rhaegar. Could you pitch this idea to father? If the two of us convince him, it might convince him."
He pondered it for a moment, he thought about having a tumble with her then having his father send her off to the silent sisters. But if Jaehaerys married her, he could have her all to himself as often as he wanted. And Rhaegar, combining his claim along with house Blackfyre would do a lot to legitimize his rule in the future.
"Yes, of course." He nodded as he began to mentally undress Daena.
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Myles
The breeze hit Captain General Myles Toyne's face as the Golden Company set up its camps within the shores of the disputed lands, just off the island of Tyrosh. The retreat had been chaotic, the rebels would have wiped them out had he not rallied the remains of the Golden Company and ordered them to retreat.
Their main dock had been destroyed in the initial raid, but they had the good sense to build various reserve docks throughout Bloodstone. Little good that did. He looked around the camp, it's golden standards faded in the wind. 10 thousand men arrived in the Stepstones, 10 thousand men along with their King and the sword that split the realm asunder almost a century ago.
He looked at the captain generals tent, it's half burnt husk still there. Bittersteels' skull along with the other former captain generals, Blackfyre, Maelys, and now this. A fitting symbol, our only way home, now only embers remain. In normal times, once the old Captain General died, a vote would be held among the captains to elect a new Captain general. But with their defeat, the losses they took, and the fact he led the retreat, he was now captain general in all but name.
He walked into the tent, the remaining captains standing around the table. They had 10 captains, each one led a cohort of 1000 men, now out of those captains only 3 were left. The company down to a little over 3500 men as of last count. Their cavalry was mostly gone, only a few squires and even fewer knights remained; all the elephants and their riders were gone, torn to pieces in the final battle of the campaign or lost in their retreat, of the archers and bowmen, only a few summer Islanders and Myrish crossbowmen remained.
"Everyone." He said as he put his hands on the table. "As you can see, our situation is at it's nadir."
"An astute observation," Crispian Cole, captain of the light infantry interjected. "What's the bloody point of even keeping this company around? Maelys is dead, his bitch wife and daughter are now held by the Red Dragons. I heard she willingly ran with the second son of all people."
"I know." Toyne said with venom in his voice. "But there is another. Our way home is not yet lost."
"Explain." Merwyn Peake broke his silence as he stared at him with his blind eye, it's faded appearance being unsettling to this day.
"Daemon didn't just have Serra with Daena before he died, or have you forgotten the twin the babe was born alongside with, Viserys."
"Didn't Maelys sell the brat off to a troupe of mummers in Lys before we set off to the Stepstones? Gods knows where the boy is." Merwyn slightly shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Face it Toyne, it's over. None of us are ever coming home. Hells, most of us haven't even seen Westeros. We've only heard of it from what our parents and grandparents told us. Our home is here in Essos," he put his right hand on the table where a map of the Narrow sea was laid out and pointed his finger at Tyrosh. "Adarys still rules in Tyrosh. Why not join ourselves to him and carve out our own domain here in Essos and snatch Tyrosh out from under him? Gods know he's having a hard time holding the damned city."
Myles only nodded, "I understand where you're coming from Peake." He said with a hint of annoyance in his voice. "But there's one thing you forget, I was there that day when Maelys sold the boy off. I know the name and face of the man who bought the boy as well as the troupe where he was sold to. This defeat isn't the first setback we've tasted, the first, third, the fourth Blackfyre rebellions those were also disasters, but we came back from that as well. I've already dispatched Strickland to Lys to secure the boy. We are men of the Black Dragon Peake, and we will come home, or die trying."
Peakes' face turned a slight red and he seemed to break out in sweat for a moment. "Forgive me captain-general, I was unaware of our situation."
"No matter Peake, but I expect for you to cease this defeatist attitude."
"As you wish."
"Now then." Toyne slammed his hand on the table. "We must look to rebuilding our strength, Peake was right about Tyrosh I'll give him that, let us join with Adarys and use this time to rebuild. Is everyone in agreement?"
"Aye." The captains in the tent said in unison.
--
The fallen princess
This city reeks of shit. Daena covered her nose as she glanced over at Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen. He was shorter than Daemon, and younger than he was. Though compared to Maelys he was a saint so far.
He was playing with Serra, teaching her how to roll dice as the sailors of the flagship watched and cheered as she rolled a Snake Eyes. She recalled how her brother-husband Daemon always regaled her with stories of Westeros, of how Kings Landing was the seat of their house, of Daeron The Falseborn and his descendants sitting on the throne that was rightfully theirs.
Now here she was, on a ship headed directly to the port. It was ironic and sad though, she expected to land as a conqueror, standing side by side with Daemon as they landed on the shores of the city and watch as they took the city by storm. She dreamt of watching Daemon being crowned, and for him to raise their family sword in the air for all to see as the small folk and true loyalists of the Golden Company cheered.
Now that dream was gone, Daemon's ashes scattered to the Wind, just like her cousin Maelys. Recalling that day filled her with rage, as she watched Maelys take him away from her, the wedding shortly after was brief, there was no one to carry her maidens cloak for her, and she was married and bedded the same day Daemon was cremated; her son Viserys was sold off to some mummers troupe in Lys shortly after. She felt a tear come down as she recalled how they tore little Varys from her arms.
She kept on watching her daughter and probable future spouse. Jaehaerys wasn't Maelys, he seemed gentle for now at least. The one she knew to watch out for was his twin. She remembered the way he eyed her, he looked at her the same way Maelys looked at her in the months leading up to her husband's death. She told Jaehaerys this as well on their way back. "Your brother wants me." She told him, "I've seen the way he looks at me, like some animal looking at his prey. Maelys did the same as well that animal, you better keep him away from me because I've had enough of being pushed around. Unless you want your brother to live as a eunuch."
"I know." He nodded as he laughed at her statement. "Aerys has always been, 'willfull' so to speak. But you have my word I'll watch out for you, and for Serra."
It was surprising, and true to his word he'd kept her under guard and stuck to her side at all times. She saw how Aerys looked at him then at her, clearly annoyed he couldn't try anything. She glanced back at the city, the smell becoming more pungent the closer they got. "Jaehaerys." She called out as she turned back to face him.
"What is it?"
"Please tell me the red keep doesn't smell as awful as this. I'm having a hard enough time keeping my meal down."
"Don't w-"
"Of course not." Aerys cut his brother off.
Here we go again. She rolled her eyes as she spotted him approaching her, having emerged from the cabins on deck.
"I assure you my lady, the red keep is the cleanest part of the castle. You have my word as the future king that I'll do something about the smell in the city as well."
"How delightful, thank you my prince." She curtsied and bowed slightly.
"No worries future good sister, but please, call me Aerys. We are family after all are we not?" He gave her a broad smile and a wink as she cringed inside. "Blackfyre, Targaryen, we all share the blood of King Viserys second of his name after all do we not?"
"Indeed we do my prince. But it is proper etiquette to address you as my prince. You are after all a future king. I would not wish to cause you to lose face by addressing you so casually."
He scowled a little and nodded, "fair enough my lady. Thank you for your time."
He turned his attention to Jaehaerys, "so brother, are you ready to see mother and father then share a meal with us? Or will you sink into your books again?"
"Dinner is mandatory is it not? That and I think it would be good to raise my proposal regarding princess Serra and Daena as well. And we need to make arrangements to secure her son if we can find him."
"Yes, yes, the boy." He said dismissively as he nodded. The way he mentioned her son made her want to throw him overboard. Her hands twitched with anger a little but she kept her cool. "I don't get why we just forget about him, Essos is a big continent, if he got sold off to a troupe of mummers they're probably on the other side of Essos by now. Remember that one troupe that came for my 12th name day? The head of that troupe said they've gone as far as Qarth, face it he's lost forever."
She walked up to Aerys and screamed at him. "Don't talk about my son that way you bastard!" She said in High Valyrian as she stormed off below deck and made her way to her room then slammed the door behind her, locking it shut and sitting in front of the door as she began to cry for her boy.
She heard a few footsteps behind her, then the knocks began.
--
Jaehaerys (Yang Wen-Li)
"Why did you have to say that?" His high Valyrian was poor, with a heavy Westerosi accent. But he didn't want anyone involved in their family drama.
"What's wrong with a little harsh truth? Face it brother the boy is lost. All the better, if he did pop up we would have to take care of him somehow."
Daena's sobs became louder, "Daena, please open up let us talk." He tried knocking the door of the captains cabin.
"Go away. I don't want to see any of you."
He glared at his brother, he'd always been like this. But ever since he'd gotten Blackfyre he'd become even more arrogant, dismissive, and egotistical. "Apologize to her."
"Why should I apologize to some rebels daughter. She should be grateful we're even considering giving her and her brat a place at court." He crossed his arms and looked away from the door.
"Because like you said, the boy still lives as does the Golden company. Do you want to deal with another Blackfyre rebellion, or would you rather bind them by blood and not have to worry about fighting another war? Remember what happened with Maelys?"
His brother glared at him, if looks could kill he'd die a second time. But poking at his ego was the best way to get through to him. "Don't you dare mention that." He hissed with venom in his voice. "I wasn't prepared that time, I won't be bested like that again."
"I'm sure you will, but I for one would rather not fight another war again. I've sent more than enough men to their deaths." He leaned back against the door and recalled, Astate, Tiamat, Legnica, Amlitzer, his actions and inactions when he was Yang Wen-Li. The nights he didn't dream of Frederica he dreamt he stood atop a mountain of bodies, their collective voices screaming at him, "Why? Why did you kill me? Why do you live while we languish here?"
"Says the one who threw himself into the fighting." His brother said, interrupting his brief day-nightmare. "No man in their right mind would throw themselves in danger as much as you did."
"Because I'm the only one who could pull it off. It's one thing to do something because you have to, another because you enjoy it. Stop changing the damn subject, apologize to her. You're to be king, act like one "
"Again with that? Gods you're annoying." He looked at the door, Daena's sobs still audible from within then back at him. His face seemingly changed expression and the annoyance shifted into regret. "Fine." He shrugged and knocked. "Daena, Daena I'm sorry, I said something insensitive. Will you open the door already?"
"I'll do it if you throw yourself overboard with armor on!"
Aerys leaned away and shrugged. "Well I tried, she's your problem now brother. I'm going to get wine." He walked away, leaving him alone with Serra and Daena's sobs behind her cabin door. He went over and knocked this time.
"I said go away."
"Daena, it's me. You can stay inside as long as you want. But, do you at least want Serra to accompany you? She needs you as well." The sobs stopped for a moment, he heard her stand up and unlock the door. A moment later she opened it, the whites in her eyes were reddened and her hair was disheveled.
"Mama!" Serra ran up to her and hugged her. The sadness from her face turned into a soft smile. The same smile that reminded him of Frederica.
"I'll stand out here and give you two space if you need. I'll bring you some food in a little bit." He turned and began to make his way to the ships deck.
"Wait." He turned back to see Daena, having switched back to Westerosi.
"What happened?"
"Thank you," she stood up and carried Serra. "You can come in and talk when you bring our meal." She closed the door again and locked it. He smiled and shrugged as he walked into the deck.
--
Jaehaerys (Yang Wen-Li)
They marched into the city as the crowds cheered them on. His brother rode at the head of the retinue, with lord Hightower at his side. He was just behind them, with Ser Grandison riding besides him. Behind him was the wheelhouse where Daena and Serra sat inside with Ser Gaunt of the Kingsguard who was guarding them. Behind the wheelhouse rode the lords Paramount's and their families, Baratheon, Tully, Stark, Arryn, Martell, Greyjoy, and Lannister. And behind them were their lesser lords who rode with them, their respective levies and knights rode behind them.
The cheering crowds reminded him of when he'd secured Iserholhn fortress. He was already a celebrity in the alliance, the Hero of El Fácil and now Hero of Astate; but when he secured Iserholhn fortress without losing a single man, he became the greatest hero of the alliance, even greater than Bruce Ashbey and on par with the founder father of the alliance Ahle Heinessen.
Yet that day was also the beginning of the end of the Alliance and his life. As he glanced around the crowds, a part of him felt uneasy, was this why he lived again. Doomed to repeat his life in a more primitive setting?
He pondered on this as they rode up towards the Red Keep, it's spires looming over him as he approached it.
They closed in on the gates, the Gold cloaks having opened them for him. They slowly entered the keep, their combined retinue filling up the courtyard until the last of their men were inside.
He and Aerys were waiting on their horses, standing in front of the Grand Hall. A few moments later the doors opened. His father King Jaehaerys and his mother Queen Shaera walked outside, escorted by the other knights of the Kingsguard and a dozen Gold cloaks.
He's aged a lot. His father had always been sickly, not being able to play too much with them as children. Right now though, it seemed as if his father had aged 10 years in the short time they were gone.
"Your grace." Aerys walked up to his father and knelt in front of him, undoing the pommel he held Blackfyre on and gave it to him. "Our family sword has been recovered. See it for yourself."
His father only nodded, grabbing the pommel and drawing the sword. His stern expression turned into a surprised one as he witnessed the Valyrian steel emerge. He fully drew the sword, pulling it up towards the sky with ease as everyone in the castle cheered. "You have done well my son." He said in a gentle tone as he bid him to stand. He put the sword back in its pommel and put it around him then embraced him. To which the crowd reacted with an even louder cheer. "Tell me son, how did you come across this."
"It was Jaehaerys. He led a raid into Maelys' camp and seized the sword, that wasn't the only thing he seized however." He turned to him, "brother!"
He stood up, making his way to the wheelhouse and opened it. "Daena, it's time."
She only nodded, grabbing the spear with Bittersteels' skull with her right hand and her daughter Serra's right hand with her left and stepped out.
"The skull of Bittersteel and the other previous Captain Generals of the Golden Company." He said in a serious tone, "And Daena Blackfyre, wife of Maelys. And her daughter Serra, the child of Daemon Blackfyre who was murdered by Maelys the Monstrous."
His parents expressions turned into a surprised one as he escorted Serra and Daena in front of her parents.
His mother nodded in approval as did his father. "You did this, my son?"
"Yes Father." He nodded and knelt in front of them. "I have a proposal father."
"Let me hear it my son, but after dinner, for now, we must celebrate this triumph. Come everyone, a feast, to celebrate the end of this war!" The crowd burst into cheers as his parents made their way into the Grand Hall.
The breeze hit Captain General Myles Toyne's face as the Golden Company set up its camps within the shores of the disputed lands, just off the island of Tyrosh. The retreat had been chaotic, the rebels would have wiped them out had he not rallied the remains of the Golden Company and ordered them to retreat.
Their main dock had been destroyed in the initial raid, but they had the good sense to build various reserve docks throughout Bloodstone. Little good that did. He looked around the camp, it's golden standards faded in the wind. 10 thousand men arrived in the Stepstones, 10 thousand men along with their King and the sword that split the realm asunder almost a century ago.
He looked at the captain generals tent, it's half burnt husk still there. Bittersteels' skull along with the other former captain generals, Blackfyre, Maelys, and now this. A fitting symbol, our only way home, now only embers remain. In normal times, once the old Captain General died, a vote would be held among the captains to elect a new Captain general. But with their defeat, the losses they took, and the fact he led the retreat, he was now captain general in all but name.
He walked into the tent, the remaining captains standing around the table. They had 10 captains, each one led a cohort of 1000 men, now out of those captains only 3 were left. The company down to a little over 3500 men as of last count. Their cavalry was mostly gone, only a few squires and even fewer knights remained; all the elephants and their riders were gone, torn to pieces in the final battle of the campaign or lost in their retreat, of the archers and bowmen, only a few summer Islanders and Myrish crossbowmen remained.
"Everyone." He said as he put his hands on the table. "As you can see, our situation is at it's nadir."
"An astute observation," Crispian Cole, captain of the light infantry interjected. "What's the bloody point of even keeping this company around? Maelys is dead, his bitch wife and daughter are now held by the Red Dragons. I heard she willingly ran with the second son of all people."
"I know." Toyne said with venom in his voice. "But there is another. Our way home is not yet lost."
"Explain." Merwyn Peake broke his silence as he stared at him with his blind eye, it's faded appearance being unsettling to this day.
"Daemon didn't just have Serra with Daena before he died, or have you forgotten the twin the babe was born alongside with, Viserys."
"Didn't Maelys sell the brat off to a troupe of mummers in Lys before we set off to the Stepstones? Gods knows where the boy is." Merwyn slightly shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Face it Toyne, it's over. None of us are ever coming home. Hells, most of us haven't even seen Westeros. We've only heard of it from what our parents and grandparents told us. Our home is here in Essos," he put his right hand on the table where a map of the Narrow sea was laid out and pointed his finger at Tyrosh. "Adarys still rules in Tyrosh. Why not join ourselves to him and carve out our own domain here in Essos and snatch Tyrosh out from under him? Gods know he's having a hard time holding the damned city."
Myles only nodded, "I understand where you're coming from Peake." He said with a hint of annoyance in his voice. "But there's one thing you forget, I was there that day when Maelys sold the boy off. I know the name and face of the man who bought the boy as well as the troupe where he was sold to. This defeat isn't the first setback we've tasted, the first, third, the fourth Blackfyre rebellions those were also disasters, but we came back from that as well. I've already dispatched Strickland to Lys to secure the boy. We are men of the Black Dragon Peake, and we will come home, or die trying."
Peakes' face turned a slight red and he seemed to break out in sweat for a moment. "Forgive me captain-general, I was unaware of our situation."
"No matter Peake, but I expect for you to cease this defeatist attitude."
"As you wish."
"Now then." Toyne slammed his hand on the table. "We must look to rebuilding our strength, Peake was right about Tyrosh I'll give him that, let us join with Adarys and use this time to rebuild. Is everyone in agreement?"
"Aye." The captains in the tent said in unison.
--
The fallen princess
This city reeks of shit. Daena covered her nose as she glanced over at Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen. He was shorter than Daemon, and younger than he was. Though compared to Maelys he was a saint so far.
He was playing with Serra, teaching her how to roll dice as the sailors of the flagship watched and cheered as she rolled a Snake Eyes. She recalled how her brother-husband Daemon always regaled her with stories of Westeros, of how Kings Landing was the seat of their house, of Daeron The Falseborn and his descendants sitting on the throne that was rightfully theirs.
Now here she was, on a ship headed directly to the port. It was ironic and sad though, she expected to land as a conqueror, standing side by side with Daemon as they landed on the shores of the city and watch as they took the city by storm. She dreamt of watching Daemon being crowned, and for him to raise their family sword in the air for all to see as the small folk and true loyalists of the Golden Company cheered.
Now that dream was gone, Daemon's ashes scattered to the Wind, just like her cousin Maelys. Recalling that day filled her with rage, as she watched Maelys take him away from her, the wedding shortly after was brief, there was no one to carry her maidens cloak for her, and she was married and bedded the same day Daemon was cremated; her son Viserys was sold off to some mummers troupe in Lys shortly after. She felt a tear come down as she recalled how they tore little Varys from her arms.
She kept on watching her daughter and probable future spouse. Jaehaerys wasn't Maelys, he seemed gentle for now at least. The one she knew to watch out for was his twin. She remembered the way he eyed her, he looked at her the same way Maelys looked at her in the months leading up to her husband's death. She told Jaehaerys this as well on their way back. "Your brother wants me." She told him, "I've seen the way he looks at me, like some animal looking at his prey. Maelys did the same as well that animal, you better keep him away from me because I've had enough of being pushed around. Unless you want your brother to live as a eunuch."
"I know." He nodded as he laughed at her statement. "Aerys has always been, 'willfull' so to speak. But you have my word I'll watch out for you, and for Serra."
It was surprising, and true to his word he'd kept her under guard and stuck to her side at all times. She saw how Aerys looked at him then at her, clearly annoyed he couldn't try anything. She glanced back at the city, the smell becoming more pungent the closer they got. "Jaehaerys." She called out as she turned back to face him.
"What is it?"
"Please tell me the red keep doesn't smell as awful as this. I'm having a hard enough time keeping my meal down."
"Don't w-"
"Of course not." Aerys cut his brother off.
Here we go again. She rolled her eyes as she spotted him approaching her, having emerged from the cabins on deck.
"I assure you my lady, the red keep is the cleanest part of the castle. You have my word as the future king that I'll do something about the smell in the city as well."
"How delightful, thank you my prince." She curtsied and bowed slightly.
"No worries future good sister, but please, call me Aerys. We are family after all are we not?" He gave her a broad smile and a wink as she cringed inside. "Blackfyre, Targaryen, we all share the blood of King Viserys second of his name after all do we not?"
"Indeed we do my prince. But it is proper etiquette to address you as my prince. You are after all a future king. I would not wish to cause you to lose face by addressing you so casually."
He scowled a little and nodded, "fair enough my lady. Thank you for your time."
He turned his attention to Jaehaerys, "so brother, are you ready to see mother and father then share a meal with us? Or will you sink into your books again?"
"Dinner is mandatory is it not? That and I think it would be good to raise my proposal regarding princess Serra and Daena as well. And we need to make arrangements to secure her son if we can find him."
"Yes, yes, the boy." He said dismissively as he nodded. The way he mentioned her son made her want to throw him overboard. Her hands twitched with anger a little but she kept her cool. "I don't get why we just forget about him, Essos is a big continent, if he got sold off to a troupe of mummers they're probably on the other side of Essos by now. Remember that one troupe that came for my 12th name day? The head of that troupe said they've gone as far as Qarth, face it he's lost forever."
She walked up to Aerys and screamed at him. "Don't talk about my son that way you bastard!" She said in High Valyrian as she stormed off below deck and made her way to her room then slammed the door behind her, locking it shut and sitting in front of the door as she began to cry for her boy.
She heard a few footsteps behind her, then the knocks began.
--
Jaehaerys (Yang Wen-Li)
"Why did you have to say that?" His high Valyrian was poor, with a heavy Westerosi accent. But he didn't want anyone involved in their family drama.
"What's wrong with a little harsh truth? Face it brother the boy is lost. All the better, if he did pop up we would have to take care of him somehow."
Daena's sobs became louder, "Daena, please open up let us talk." He tried knocking the door of the captains cabin.
"Go away. I don't want to see any of you."
He glared at his brother, he'd always been like this. But ever since he'd gotten Blackfyre he'd become even more arrogant, dismissive, and egotistical. "Apologize to her."
"Why should I apologize to some rebels daughter. She should be grateful we're even considering giving her and her brat a place at court." He crossed his arms and looked away from the door.
"Because like you said, the boy still lives as does the Golden company. Do you want to deal with another Blackfyre rebellion, or would you rather bind them by blood and not have to worry about fighting another war? Remember what happened with Maelys?"
His brother glared at him, if looks could kill he'd die a second time. But poking at his ego was the best way to get through to him. "Don't you dare mention that." He hissed with venom in his voice. "I wasn't prepared that time, I won't be bested like that again."
"I'm sure you will, but I for one would rather not fight another war again. I've sent more than enough men to their deaths." He leaned back against the door and recalled, Astate, Tiamat, Legnica, Amlitzer, his actions and inactions when he was Yang Wen-Li. The nights he didn't dream of Frederica he dreamt he stood atop a mountain of bodies, their collective voices screaming at him, "Why? Why did you kill me? Why do you live while we languish here?"
"Says the one who threw himself into the fighting." His brother said, interrupting his brief day-nightmare. "No man in their right mind would throw themselves in danger as much as you did."
"Because I'm the only one who could pull it off. It's one thing to do something because you have to, another because you enjoy it. Stop changing the damn subject, apologize to her. You're to be king, act like one "
"Again with that? Gods you're annoying." He looked at the door, Daena's sobs still audible from within then back at him. His face seemingly changed expression and the annoyance shifted into regret. "Fine." He shrugged and knocked. "Daena, Daena I'm sorry, I said something insensitive. Will you open the door already?"
"I'll do it if you throw yourself overboard with armor on!"
Aerys leaned away and shrugged. "Well I tried, she's your problem now brother. I'm going to get wine." He walked away, leaving him alone with Serra and Daena's sobs behind her cabin door. He went over and knocked this time.
"I said go away."
"Daena, it's me. You can stay inside as long as you want. But, do you at least want Serra to accompany you? She needs you as well." The sobs stopped for a moment, he heard her stand up and unlock the door. A moment later she opened it, the whites in her eyes were reddened and her hair was disheveled.
"Mama!" Serra ran up to her and hugged her. The sadness from her face turned into a soft smile. The same smile that reminded him of Frederica.
"I'll stand out here and give you two space if you need. I'll bring you some food in a little bit." He turned and began to make his way to the ships deck.
"Wait." He turned back to see Daena, having switched back to Westerosi.
"What happened?"
"Thank you," she stood up and carried Serra. "You can come in and talk when you bring our meal." She closed the door again and locked it. He smiled and shrugged as he walked into the deck.
--
Jaehaerys (Yang Wen-Li)
They marched into the city as the crowds cheered them on. His brother rode at the head of the retinue, with lord Hightower at his side. He was just behind them, with Ser Grandison riding besides him. Behind him was the wheelhouse where Daena and Serra sat inside with Ser Gaunt of the Kingsguard who was guarding them. Behind the wheelhouse rode the lords Paramount's and their families, Baratheon, Tully, Stark, Arryn, Martell, Greyjoy, and Lannister. And behind them were their lesser lords who rode with them, their respective levies and knights rode behind them.
The cheering crowds reminded him of when he'd secured Iserholhn fortress. He was already a celebrity in the alliance, the Hero of El Fácil and now Hero of Astate; but when he secured Iserholhn fortress without losing a single man, he became the greatest hero of the alliance, even greater than Bruce Ashbey and on par with the founder father of the alliance Ahle Heinessen.
Yet that day was also the beginning of the end of the Alliance and his life. As he glanced around the crowds, a part of him felt uneasy, was this why he lived again. Doomed to repeat his life in a more primitive setting?
He pondered on this as they rode up towards the Red Keep, it's spires looming over him as he approached it.
They closed in on the gates, the Gold cloaks having opened them for him. They slowly entered the keep, their combined retinue filling up the courtyard until the last of their men were inside.
He and Aerys were waiting on their horses, standing in front of the Grand Hall. A few moments later the doors opened. His father King Jaehaerys and his mother Queen Shaera walked outside, escorted by the other knights of the Kingsguard and a dozen Gold cloaks.
He's aged a lot. His father had always been sickly, not being able to play too much with them as children. Right now though, it seemed as if his father had aged 10 years in the short time they were gone.
"Your grace." Aerys walked up to his father and knelt in front of him, undoing the pommel he held Blackfyre on and gave it to him. "Our family sword has been recovered. See it for yourself."
His father only nodded, grabbing the pommel and drawing the sword. His stern expression turned into a surprised one as he witnessed the Valyrian steel emerge. He fully drew the sword, pulling it up towards the sky with ease as everyone in the castle cheered. "You have done well my son." He said in a gentle tone as he bid him to stand. He put the sword back in its pommel and put it around him then embraced him. To which the crowd reacted with an even louder cheer. "Tell me son, how did you come across this."
"It was Jaehaerys. He led a raid into Maelys' camp and seized the sword, that wasn't the only thing he seized however." He turned to him, "brother!"
He stood up, making his way to the wheelhouse and opened it. "Daena, it's time."
She only nodded, grabbing the spear with Bittersteels' skull with her right hand and her daughter Serra's right hand with her left and stepped out.
"The skull of Bittersteel and the other previous Captain Generals of the Golden Company." He said in a serious tone, "And Daena Blackfyre, wife of Maelys. And her daughter Serra, the child of Daemon Blackfyre who was murdered by Maelys the Monstrous."
His parents expressions turned into a surprised one as he escorted Serra and Daena in front of her parents.
His mother nodded in approval as did his father. "You did this, my son?"
"Yes Father." He nodded and knelt in front of them. "I have a proposal father."
"Let me hear it my son, but after dinner, for now, we must celebrate this triumph. Come everyone, a feast, to celebrate the end of this war!" The crowd burst into cheers as his parents made their way into the Grand Hall.
Last edited:
Wedding
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Alenco98
Getting sticky.
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The Ailing King
King Jaehaerys second of his name sat up on his bed, his two children Aerys and Jaehaerys, Princess Daena, Serra, and his wife and Queen Shaera stood at the foot of it. In front of him lay a plate of eggs mixed with a hearty beef stew. "Father, you have to eat, you need to keep up your strength."
Jaehaerys, his namesake had always been the preachy type, even as a young lad. He had always worried about him, his martial ability not being up to par when compared to his heir and his preference for study. But after seeing what he'd accomplished he felt more at peace. He'll be a capable hand for my son. He leaned forward slightly and grabbed his spoon, taking a few spoonfuls of his meal and eating it.
The fevers had only grown in severity once his reign started. He thanked the gods for Lord Sloane, his stewardship of the realm as hand relieved some pressure off him. But even then he couldn't let him rule alone. The celebration he held once his sons came home from the Stepstones only served to sap his strength even further, forcing him abed with fever for a week, subsisting on beef broth and bone soup alongside milk and honey served by Pycelle while he went in and out of consciousness. "I read the letters Hightower sent me regarding your proposal Jaehaerys."
He took another spoonful and ate it, he could feel as the food fell into his stomach. "We have no current eligible ladies from the great houses for you to marry and strengthen our alliances. And with our line almost spent, I agree, binding the last of the Blackfyre's to our line would be a boon. And should this prince Viserys be found by the Golden Company, I don't think even he would dare to wage war on his own mother and niece. It would secure peace for this generation and the next, and give us time to rebuild."
Daena nodded in approval, he turned to her. "Rest assured princess, I have dispatched my master of whispers. He is recruiting agents all over Essos to potentially track down your son. However, there will be some 'restrictions' placed on the boy should we find him."
"Such as?"
"For one, his options will be to either take the black, join the faith, or the citadel. Though he is family, and though you would be married to our house, the boy is still a Blackfyre. Rest assured though, should he join the faith or the citadel I would do everything in my power to ensure he is assigned to Kings Landing either as a Septon or Maester. Consider this oath my gift to you. And let me remind you as well, had Maelys overcome us, I doubt he'd be as merciful as I am at the moment. So I suggest putting some thoughts on your next words." He hated using veiled threats like that, but sometimes they were a necessity.
She looked around, there was a clear distaste in her eyes to the options he'd given her. But it was well within his rights, the Victor had the right to do as he pleased. "Very well." She said with resignation in her voice. "I'll hold you to that."
"Thank you princess." He nodded as he took another bite. "If that is all, then, the wedding shall be held within a month. Now then." He turned to his own sons. "Aerys, Jaehaerys. As the two of you have seen, my health is not the best these days. Frankly I do not think I have long to live. As such, you two shall attend the small council meetings from now on. Listen to my hand, see what he does and how he rules. One day, perhaps not too far in the future, you two will rule as well."
"Yes Father." Aerys said in a confident tone.
--
Daena
She awoke at the sound of knocking, she opened her eyes glancing to her right over at the door she'd barricaded with various chairs and even a small table the night before as she usually did. She looked under her pillow and took the dagger she placed under it. "Princess, are you awake? Breakfast will start in an hour." Ser Barristan Selmy, the newest member of the Kingsguard and the man who slew Maelys called out from beyond the door.
"I'm coming ser, let me clear out the room first." She replied as she looked over to her left, finding her sweet Serra still sound asleep. She dragged herself out of bed, taking the chairs as well as the table back to their original spots one by one and putting the dagger away in one of the drawers. It was a plain steel knife with red rubies on the hilt, one that Jaehaerys gifted her a few days after she arrived. Once the room was cleared she clapped her hands and the doors swung open.
Ever since Maelys turned her life upside down she hadn't slept peacefully, her nights filled with nightmares of her dead husband and Maelys. The Valyrian steel knife was a small comfort, but it wasn't enough for her. So she told the king she wanted to be allowed to barricade her doors at night, and to sleep with a knife under her bed. The king gave her a perplexed look but he allowed it. Once she heard Barristan the Bold, the same man who murdered Maelys was made into a Kingsguard she requested that he be placed as her sworn shield.
King Jaehaerys once again said nothing, allowing her to do as she willed. Since then, she'd finally slept peacefully, she still dreamt of her lost son. But the nightmares of Maelys had gone away.
The handmaidens entered into her room shortly after the doors opened to help her prepare for the day. 2 of them carried buckets of scalding hot water for her bath, while another came to bring in her tea, and another one left a dress on her bed and gently woke Serra up, escorting her out of the room.
Once Serra was out of the room one of the handmaidens helped her strip her clothes off. It felt a bit surreal, she had grown up amongst the Golden company, and while they never lacked for wealth she still lived and rode alongside them. She never had time for handmaidens and baths, being forced to change herself, keeping her hair short and dressing in clothes deemed manly by Westerosi mores. Riding leathers with the occasional chainmail should they pass too close to a warzone. She knew how to wield a shortsword as well an a bow, having used it on occasion whenever the occasional raider foolishly tried to raid their camps, though she never did fight in a pitched battle, Daemon and especially Maelys would never allow that.
Which made the current situation all the stranger to her. She hadn't been bathed since she was a little girl, and even when she did she used an unpleasant smelling soap made of animal fat. The handmaidens here in the meantime scrubbed her well, as they had done every morning since she arrived in the capital, rubbing scented oils and blocks of lye soaps on her skin. Once she was dried, two of the maids began to brush her silver and gold hair, straightening it and tying her hair into a simple ponytail.
After that, the maids helped her put on the dress that she would wear to break her fast, a simple red dress with long flowing skirts. On the bodice there was a shield sewn on it. On the right half of the shield was the sigil of her house, the black dragon on a red background. While on the left was the symbol of house Targaryen, the red dragon on a black background. Her neck and shoulders were covered, whilst her sleeves were made of purple silk and covered up to her wrists just below her hands. On her ring finger of her left hand lay the ring Prince Jaehaerys gave her.
After the maids finished dressing her, she walked down to the small hall to break her fast, accompanied by Ser Barristan.
The small hall was already full of guests, so Daena quickly made her way to her seat on the raised dais at the end of the hall. Prince Jaehaerys was already sitting down in his seat, leaning back, and watching all of the guests as he sipped on some wine. On his right was his mother, Queen Shaera and at the very top of the Dais to Shaera's right sat the king. On the other side of the king to his right sat Aerys, alongside his wife Rhaella who held her future good-son Rhaegar. Finally to Jaehaerys' left lay an empty seat where she was to sit.
She made her way to it, As she approached her spot. Prince Jaehaerys' smiled when he saw her and pulled out the seat next to him. "You look wonderful, where is Serra?"
"The handmaid's are changing her. She'll join us shortly." He glanced at the empty seat to her left then back at her.
"No worries, I look forward to the celebrations today." He leaned over and grabbed a nearby flagon. "Dornish red, aged for 10 years. Would you like some?"
"Thank you, of course." He grabbed the cup in front of her chair and poured it for her, filling it almost to the brim and putting it where it was.
"Enjoy." He smiled at her and stood up, pulling her seat back. "Please, take a seat." She nodded and smiled, sitting down as she began to sip on her wine. She looked over at him, he wore a black doublet with red sleeves. He wore simple black breeches and boots. His doublet was decorated with small red dragons, and a black silk cloth was draped across his back with the symbol of his house on it.
The servants came in, bringing in sweet bread from the finest bakeries in the city alongside a serving of jam as well as fresh fruits from the reach.
A few minutes later Serra joined them as well, in a simple white dress and a silver circlet on her head with a red ruby in the center, another gift from her prince husband to her. She sat down, helping herself to a few lemon tarts. She had no appetite for any of the food, but for appearance sake she helped herself as well, eating a loaf of bread with some strawberry jam as well as fresh peaches from the reach.
Her future husband seemed to share her lack of appetite, drinking a few cups of Arbor Red and eating a few slices of bacon.
After they were both finished, the serving women quickly cleaned out the table, and all the guests in attendance began to queue up to hand their gifts to the couple.
All the guests, one by one, offered their gifts as well as their congratulations to them. The gifts were mundane, in truth, it consisted of even riding boots; horse spurs; and collections of rings and necklaces and earrings. The only one that truly stood out was the Valyrian Steel dagger the King gifted her. "If you're going to sleep with a dagger, you might as well sleep with the best. Just make sure you don't use it on your family." The hall burst out in laughter at his jape, but as she looked around she saw Aerys staring at her the same way he did on the ship. Maybe I'll have to use it on him if he tries anything. She dismissed that thought as she thanked her good father.
The wedding occurred shortly after, it was a private affair, with the royal family, including her and her daughter gathered inside the Castle Sept. The ceremony was quick, with King Jaehaerys' being the one who gave her away to his own son. It was a sweet gesture, and far more courteous than the wedding Maelys had for her. Once the vows were made, she emerged from the sept holding hands with Jaehaerys' as the guests outside the sept cheered.
That evening, they would have a feast in the throne room, which would be followed by a dance, and then the bedding ceremony. Aerys attempted to dance with her as often as she could, but he was too predictable, and she stuck to Jaehaerys', never letting go of him until the bedding ceremony started.
It began once the music ended, all the guests got to their feet and walked quickly to the couple. Ser Barristan and Ser Grandison lifted her off the floor and started to carry her to the large doors of the throne room. A bunch of other men also joined in with carrying her, telling bawdy japes at her, though they generally found the japes funnier than she did. Aerys tried ripping off her dress, but Queen Shaera' quickly smacked his hands away.
"You may carry her and tell rude japes, but custom states that you never rip off a Princess' clothes, lad. That action is reserved for her Lord Husband to do." King Jaehaerys warned.
She was carried through the outer yard and middle bailey and felt her body get attacked with the cold night wind. Finally, they took her across the dry moat and into Maegor's Holdfast, before the crowd threw both her and her husband into her bedchambers and shut the door before scurrying off to give the couple privacy.
She was still in her wedding dress, as was prince Jaehaerys. He began to strip his clothes off, shivering from the cold as he did so. Once he was naked he walked towards her and put his right hand on her shoulder, struggling not to shiver.
"Do you need help, my lady?" Prince Jaehaerys' said awkwardly.
"I'll be alright." She said, she pulled away from him and went toward the door, once she locked it she began to take off her dress.
King Jaehaerys second of his name sat up on his bed, his two children Aerys and Jaehaerys, Princess Daena, Serra, and his wife and Queen Shaera stood at the foot of it. In front of him lay a plate of eggs mixed with a hearty beef stew. "Father, you have to eat, you need to keep up your strength."
Jaehaerys, his namesake had always been the preachy type, even as a young lad. He had always worried about him, his martial ability not being up to par when compared to his heir and his preference for study. But after seeing what he'd accomplished he felt more at peace. He'll be a capable hand for my son. He leaned forward slightly and grabbed his spoon, taking a few spoonfuls of his meal and eating it.
The fevers had only grown in severity once his reign started. He thanked the gods for Lord Sloane, his stewardship of the realm as hand relieved some pressure off him. But even then he couldn't let him rule alone. The celebration he held once his sons came home from the Stepstones only served to sap his strength even further, forcing him abed with fever for a week, subsisting on beef broth and bone soup alongside milk and honey served by Pycelle while he went in and out of consciousness. "I read the letters Hightower sent me regarding your proposal Jaehaerys."
He took another spoonful and ate it, he could feel as the food fell into his stomach. "We have no current eligible ladies from the great houses for you to marry and strengthen our alliances. And with our line almost spent, I agree, binding the last of the Blackfyre's to our line would be a boon. And should this prince Viserys be found by the Golden Company, I don't think even he would dare to wage war on his own mother and niece. It would secure peace for this generation and the next, and give us time to rebuild."
Daena nodded in approval, he turned to her. "Rest assured princess, I have dispatched my master of whispers. He is recruiting agents all over Essos to potentially track down your son. However, there will be some 'restrictions' placed on the boy should we find him."
"Such as?"
"For one, his options will be to either take the black, join the faith, or the citadel. Though he is family, and though you would be married to our house, the boy is still a Blackfyre. Rest assured though, should he join the faith or the citadel I would do everything in my power to ensure he is assigned to Kings Landing either as a Septon or Maester. Consider this oath my gift to you. And let me remind you as well, had Maelys overcome us, I doubt he'd be as merciful as I am at the moment. So I suggest putting some thoughts on your next words." He hated using veiled threats like that, but sometimes they were a necessity.
She looked around, there was a clear distaste in her eyes to the options he'd given her. But it was well within his rights, the Victor had the right to do as he pleased. "Very well." She said with resignation in her voice. "I'll hold you to that."
"Thank you princess." He nodded as he took another bite. "If that is all, then, the wedding shall be held within a month. Now then." He turned to his own sons. "Aerys, Jaehaerys. As the two of you have seen, my health is not the best these days. Frankly I do not think I have long to live. As such, you two shall attend the small council meetings from now on. Listen to my hand, see what he does and how he rules. One day, perhaps not too far in the future, you two will rule as well."
"Yes Father." Aerys said in a confident tone.
--
Daena
She awoke at the sound of knocking, she opened her eyes glancing to her right over at the door she'd barricaded with various chairs and even a small table the night before as she usually did. She looked under her pillow and took the dagger she placed under it. "Princess, are you awake? Breakfast will start in an hour." Ser Barristan Selmy, the newest member of the Kingsguard and the man who slew Maelys called out from beyond the door.
"I'm coming ser, let me clear out the room first." She replied as she looked over to her left, finding her sweet Serra still sound asleep. She dragged herself out of bed, taking the chairs as well as the table back to their original spots one by one and putting the dagger away in one of the drawers. It was a plain steel knife with red rubies on the hilt, one that Jaehaerys gifted her a few days after she arrived. Once the room was cleared she clapped her hands and the doors swung open.
Ever since Maelys turned her life upside down she hadn't slept peacefully, her nights filled with nightmares of her dead husband and Maelys. The Valyrian steel knife was a small comfort, but it wasn't enough for her. So she told the king she wanted to be allowed to barricade her doors at night, and to sleep with a knife under her bed. The king gave her a perplexed look but he allowed it. Once she heard Barristan the Bold, the same man who murdered Maelys was made into a Kingsguard she requested that he be placed as her sworn shield.
King Jaehaerys once again said nothing, allowing her to do as she willed. Since then, she'd finally slept peacefully, she still dreamt of her lost son. But the nightmares of Maelys had gone away.
The handmaidens entered into her room shortly after the doors opened to help her prepare for the day. 2 of them carried buckets of scalding hot water for her bath, while another came to bring in her tea, and another one left a dress on her bed and gently woke Serra up, escorting her out of the room.
Once Serra was out of the room one of the handmaidens helped her strip her clothes off. It felt a bit surreal, she had grown up amongst the Golden company, and while they never lacked for wealth she still lived and rode alongside them. She never had time for handmaidens and baths, being forced to change herself, keeping her hair short and dressing in clothes deemed manly by Westerosi mores. Riding leathers with the occasional chainmail should they pass too close to a warzone. She knew how to wield a shortsword as well an a bow, having used it on occasion whenever the occasional raider foolishly tried to raid their camps, though she never did fight in a pitched battle, Daemon and especially Maelys would never allow that.
Which made the current situation all the stranger to her. She hadn't been bathed since she was a little girl, and even when she did she used an unpleasant smelling soap made of animal fat. The handmaidens here in the meantime scrubbed her well, as they had done every morning since she arrived in the capital, rubbing scented oils and blocks of lye soaps on her skin. Once she was dried, two of the maids began to brush her silver and gold hair, straightening it and tying her hair into a simple ponytail.
After that, the maids helped her put on the dress that she would wear to break her fast, a simple red dress with long flowing skirts. On the bodice there was a shield sewn on it. On the right half of the shield was the sigil of her house, the black dragon on a red background. While on the left was the symbol of house Targaryen, the red dragon on a black background. Her neck and shoulders were covered, whilst her sleeves were made of purple silk and covered up to her wrists just below her hands. On her ring finger of her left hand lay the ring Prince Jaehaerys gave her.
After the maids finished dressing her, she walked down to the small hall to break her fast, accompanied by Ser Barristan.
The small hall was already full of guests, so Daena quickly made her way to her seat on the raised dais at the end of the hall. Prince Jaehaerys was already sitting down in his seat, leaning back, and watching all of the guests as he sipped on some wine. On his right was his mother, Queen Shaera and at the very top of the Dais to Shaera's right sat the king. On the other side of the king to his right sat Aerys, alongside his wife Rhaella who held her future good-son Rhaegar. Finally to Jaehaerys' left lay an empty seat where she was to sit.
She made her way to it, As she approached her spot. Prince Jaehaerys' smiled when he saw her and pulled out the seat next to him. "You look wonderful, where is Serra?"
"The handmaid's are changing her. She'll join us shortly." He glanced at the empty seat to her left then back at her.
"No worries, I look forward to the celebrations today." He leaned over and grabbed a nearby flagon. "Dornish red, aged for 10 years. Would you like some?"
"Thank you, of course." He grabbed the cup in front of her chair and poured it for her, filling it almost to the brim and putting it where it was.
"Enjoy." He smiled at her and stood up, pulling her seat back. "Please, take a seat." She nodded and smiled, sitting down as she began to sip on her wine. She looked over at him, he wore a black doublet with red sleeves. He wore simple black breeches and boots. His doublet was decorated with small red dragons, and a black silk cloth was draped across his back with the symbol of his house on it.
The servants came in, bringing in sweet bread from the finest bakeries in the city alongside a serving of jam as well as fresh fruits from the reach.
A few minutes later Serra joined them as well, in a simple white dress and a silver circlet on her head with a red ruby in the center, another gift from her prince husband to her. She sat down, helping herself to a few lemon tarts. She had no appetite for any of the food, but for appearance sake she helped herself as well, eating a loaf of bread with some strawberry jam as well as fresh peaches from the reach.
Her future husband seemed to share her lack of appetite, drinking a few cups of Arbor Red and eating a few slices of bacon.
After they were both finished, the serving women quickly cleaned out the table, and all the guests in attendance began to queue up to hand their gifts to the couple.
All the guests, one by one, offered their gifts as well as their congratulations to them. The gifts were mundane, in truth, it consisted of even riding boots; horse spurs; and collections of rings and necklaces and earrings. The only one that truly stood out was the Valyrian Steel dagger the King gifted her. "If you're going to sleep with a dagger, you might as well sleep with the best. Just make sure you don't use it on your family." The hall burst out in laughter at his jape, but as she looked around she saw Aerys staring at her the same way he did on the ship. Maybe I'll have to use it on him if he tries anything. She dismissed that thought as she thanked her good father.
The wedding occurred shortly after, it was a private affair, with the royal family, including her and her daughter gathered inside the Castle Sept. The ceremony was quick, with King Jaehaerys' being the one who gave her away to his own son. It was a sweet gesture, and far more courteous than the wedding Maelys had for her. Once the vows were made, she emerged from the sept holding hands with Jaehaerys' as the guests outside the sept cheered.
That evening, they would have a feast in the throne room, which would be followed by a dance, and then the bedding ceremony. Aerys attempted to dance with her as often as she could, but he was too predictable, and she stuck to Jaehaerys', never letting go of him until the bedding ceremony started.
It began once the music ended, all the guests got to their feet and walked quickly to the couple. Ser Barristan and Ser Grandison lifted her off the floor and started to carry her to the large doors of the throne room. A bunch of other men also joined in with carrying her, telling bawdy japes at her, though they generally found the japes funnier than she did. Aerys tried ripping off her dress, but Queen Shaera' quickly smacked his hands away.
"You may carry her and tell rude japes, but custom states that you never rip off a Princess' clothes, lad. That action is reserved for her Lord Husband to do." King Jaehaerys warned.
She was carried through the outer yard and middle bailey and felt her body get attacked with the cold night wind. Finally, they took her across the dry moat and into Maegor's Holdfast, before the crowd threw both her and her husband into her bedchambers and shut the door before scurrying off to give the couple privacy.
She was still in her wedding dress, as was prince Jaehaerys. He began to strip his clothes off, shivering from the cold as he did so. Once he was naked he walked towards her and put his right hand on her shoulder, struggling not to shiver.
"Do you need help, my lady?" Prince Jaehaerys' said awkwardly.
"I'll be alright." She said, she pulled away from him and went toward the door, once she locked it she began to take off her dress.
Last edited:
Alenco98
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Yang is the better commander by a mile,
Dude fought Reinhard 1v1 in Vermillion with the same numbers and bodied his ass. If it wasn't for the Alliance's incompetence as well as Reinhard's competent admirals Yang would have killed him.
I was initially thinking about having Reinhard be Isekai'd as Aegon the conqueror or Daemon GOATfyre but realized it would be too much of a clean sweep for my Blond GOAT so here we are. I have another idea for my blond GOAT if this fic can be finished though so watch out, and yes, it will be ASOIAF but he'll be playing on nightmare.
Long live the king
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Alenco98
Getting sticky.
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Shaera
She sat beside her husband at his right side while he lay down in bed with his eyes closed. Besides her to her right was Aerys alongside Rhaella. She held Rhaegar, recently having turned three in her arms. Opposite of her stood her husband's namesake and second son Jaehaerys alongside his heavily wife Daena. Serra stood beside her, a sweet girl of only 6 while she carried her baby brother Aemon, a newborn babe of only a year.
Her husband was barely breathing, having complained of a shortness of breath a few days prior. Now he lay abed once again, barely breathing and in and out of consciousness. A few moments passed and her husband opened her eyes, he looked around for a moment then his eyes locked in with hers. "I had a dream sister." There was a gentle smile on his face, in his deep purple eyes she saw a soft gentle light swaying within them, something she'd never seen before. He spoke with a firm tone, as if he was well again.
What hope she had for his survival was crushed by what he said. It was as if the fire within him was gone, and only embers remained. "Haven't you had enough dreams Jaehaerys?"
He smiled at looked up at the ceiling of their bedchamber, smiling once again. "I've had my share."
She felt as if her heart broke. A moment later he looked back at her again. "Shaera, thank you for everything."
She began to sob, she didn't want to hear any words of gratitude from him. She wanted to grow old with him, for their reign to be as long as the Conciliator and his wife. "Shaera." He reached towards his back, sitting up and taking off what seemed like an amulet. "Here, take it. I no longer have any need of it."
She took a closer look at it, recognizing it as the good luck charm she gave him all those years ago in Summerhall when they were young, when they realized their love and desire for one another. "I will give it to you." He took a deep breath as he sat back down, breathing heavily for a moment. "It will bring you good luck, as it has to me."
"Don't say that, it's yours." She sobbed a little, but he only smiled and shook his head.
"The night before we got married after we eloped. I stopped at a Sept. I knew what we did was wrong, to deny our family is to deny the gods themselves, and to deny the gods is to bring their wroth upon yourself. Which is why when I went to that Sept I prayed to all 7, that if they were to punish us that they should punish only me."
They were punishing her too already, she realized. For were they not going to take the only man she ever loved from her?
He turned to Aerys, "my son."
"Father?" He moved besides her and leaned closer to him.
"You have the potential to be a good King. Remember what I told you, listen to your advisors. Have good people as your council, not any sycophants that tell you sweet nothings. The moment you do, is the moment you'll secure your downfall. And....I'm sorry."
There was a look of regret in his eyes, "I know you resent me, for marrying you to Rhaella when I and your mother married for love. And it is within your right to do so. But the prophecy."
"Yes." Aerys nodded, "The prince that is promised, born of our line." He scowled as he said that.
"One day you will see, why I..." He took a deep breath and looked up to the ceiling. "You'll see why one day."
He turned to Jaehaerys next his namesake. "My son, promise this, help your brother. You too have the potential to be great, please, help your brother, guide him towards the right path."
"I promise, Father."
"Thank you." He smiled and closed his eyes. For a moment everyone tensed up, until he began to breath again.
"He's not dead yet." Pycelle said as he glanced at the king from the foot of the bed. "Rest assured my queen, I am doing everything I can."
"Thank you Pycelle."
--
Jaehaerys (Yang Wen-Li)
The next few hours passed by quickly, his father's condition steadily deteriorated. That last bit of energy and lucidity steadily faded, all that remained was his father's weakening breath. Outside, a rain had come to the city. The room was eerily silent, save for the raindrops falling outside.
"I am sorry." Pycelle wiped off sweat from his brow and turned to the queen. "There is no more I can do."
The queen only nodded, wiping a few tears as she glanced down at the King. He'd lost his own father in his last life, his accident leaving him alone in the universe and forcing him down the path that would lead him to becoming a hero of the alliance. But watching his father fade away so rapidly was it's own kind of suffering.
A few moments passed and he saw his father open his eyes once again and looking at his mother. "Mother?........Father?........ forgive.....me. I'm......" He took one last gaps and shut his eyes once again, a moment passed, then another. But no breath came from his body. Only a few moments later, thunder was heard, and Aemon started to cry, as did everyone else in the room, even he felt tears fall down his face.
"Your grace." Pycelle spoke in a timid tone as he looked at Aerys. "Shall I call for the silent sisters?"
His brother only nodded, shedding a few tears and sniffling a little. A few minutes passed, and the silent sisters came, everyone cleared the room. He took one last look at the body of the man he'd been named after and shut the door, being the last to leave.
He wondered aimlessly through the keep, the servants clearing the way for him and bowing in respect as news of the kings passing spread. He found himself in the godswood, the rain being reduced to a small drizzle. He walked up to the heart tree, placing his hand on it. It was a queer thing, he'd read records of earth's history before the 13 days war, and remembered reading a chapter on the old religions of earth, finding a few examples of the worship of nature.
He closed his eyes, finding it all strangely peaceful. As if his father, and his father when he was Yang Wen-Li were comforting him without words, telling him they were now at a better place. He felt more tears falling from his face, yet he felt relief, relief that his father's suffering was over.
He sat down on the grass in front of the tree, finding it strangely soft then opened his eyes. A few moments later, a crow landed in front of him, it's red eyes piercing into his soul. "Yang, Yang, Yang, Yang." It called out. "Wen-Li, Wen-li, Wen-li."
He gasped for a moment. "What?!" It was bewildering. No one had called him by his real name ever since his old life. Yet this crow knew, he felt as if he was being watched, not by the crow, rather as if someone was looking at him using the crow as a medium. He didn't feel any sort of malice, rather, it was as if they were curious, as to why he was here of all places.
"Who are you?" He asked the crow. "Are you the reason why I live again?"
"No, no, no, no." The crow flew up into the trees, disappearing into the godswood and leaving him alone. He laid down on the grass and sighed in exasperation, looking up at the sky and feeling the rain drops fall on his face then drip onto the ground. What the hell was that all about?
He hasn't been a believer in the supernatural in his old life. Schenkopp, Poplan, and all his friends that participated in combat directly were more inclined to it, believing in concepts such as the goddess of fortune or luck. But to him they were childish concepts, the only things he had faith on were on his battle plans and the institution of Republican Democracy.
Ever since his death however, he was more inclined towards religion. Though he didn't believe in the 7 personally, he held some sort of respect towards them, praying to the warrior for good fortune before every battle. Maybe I should read up about the old gods one of these days.
He closed his eyes for a moment, a moment later he opened them again. Dawn had broken across the city. And the bells had begun to ring. And above him his twin Aerys looked down on him.
"So this is were you were."
"What?" He sat up and looked around. "How, it was the middle of the night a few seconds ago. What's going on?"
"It's called falling asleep brother. The whole damn castle was looking for you. Never took you for someone to worship the old gods though."
"I wasn't."
"Whatever you say," he sat down on the grass right next to him. The smug smile he was wearing turned into a sad face. "Gods, even my japes aren't fun to make. I haven't felt this way this Summerhall."
"Tell me about it." He laid back down on the grass. "It's normal for parents to pass on before their kids. But." He felt a tear come on and began to sob a little. Jaehaerys had been a good father to him, spending as much time with him and his brother as his duties allowed. He still remembered the way he smiled as he uttered his first words in his new body. The memories of it made it all the safer for him.
Aerys broke down and began to sob as well, covering his face with his palms. "I was always so eager, I wanted to be king for so long. But if it means losing father like this."
He glanced up at his twin, though his heart had been shattered. His twin was to bear the greater burden. He sat up, hugging his brother as the two of them continued to sob. "I know." He told Aerys. "I know, I want him back as well."
He wondered if this was how Frederica and Julian felt once the news got to them. He wondered how his funeral would have been.
A few moments later and Aerys pulled away, still sniffling but he seemed more composed. "Brother, I need your help."
"What do you need?"
"My first action as king, I would name you hand of the king."
It didn't come as a surprise to him at this point, ever since they returned from the war his father had insisted that both of them attend small council meetings and shadow the other councilors. He had been placed as the cupbearer for the Kings hand and as his personal assistant, while Aerys had been father's cupbearer.
He wanted to refuse, he had no stomach for ruling in his old life. And her certainly has no stomach now. But this wasn't the alliance, and he couldn't say no to his own brother, especially at a time like this. Just a few years, I'll find someone else then I'll retire. Maybe I can join the city watch and serve as commander. "I will do as you command brother." He stopped sitting and knelt in front of his brother.
"My rule will be a golden age just like the Conciliator's was thanks to you. Stand."
--
Jaehaerys (Yang Wen-Li)
A fortnight of mourning was called, his father's bones were laid in state within the great Sept of Baelor. Once the fortnight passed the bones were retrieved, buried within the royal crypt.
It was the morning after the burial, his brother was to be crowned today. He stood in front of the Iron Throne, bearing the crow of Maekar Targaryen on his hands and wearing Blackfyre on his hip. The members of the Royal Court stood inside the throne room. Near the front of the crowd he spotted lord Steffon Baratheon and Tywin Lannister.
Besides him on his right stood his heavily pregnant wife Daena, his stepdaughter Serra who carried her halfbrother and his firstborn son Aemon. Besides Serra stood his mother the Queen Dowager Shaera, and besides his mother stood Rhaella who was holding his nephew Rhaegar's hand. They were all wearing black, to mourn the passing of their father. On his left in the meantime stood the high Septon, ready to anoint the king.
In front of the Iron Throne and his family stood the 7 members of the Kingsguard, their white armor recently polished and shining bright.
The door of the throne room opened, and his brother walked into the room. He looked every inch a king, wearing a full plate of black steel armor with the tabard of house Targaryen on front. The court said nothing as he made his way to the throne. He reached the foot of the iron throne, the Kingsguard stepped aside and he turned around to face the entire court. He knelt on the floor and the high Septon walked up behind him.
"In the name of the father, do you swear to reign justly?"
"I do."
"In the name of the mother, do you swear to show mercy to all your subjects?"
"I do."
"In the name of the warrior, do you swear to fight for your subjects?"
"I do."
"In the name of the smith, do you swear to keep the realm together?"
"I do."
"In the name of the maiden, do you swear to protect all women?"
"I do."
"In the name of the crone, do you swear to reign with wisdom."
"I do."
"Then rise, Aerys of house Targaryen. Long may you reign."
"Long may he reign!" The court erupted in cheers as his brother stood up. He walked up behind him, placing the crown on his head then undoing the straps on the scabbard for Blackfyre. He handed the sword to his brother, helping to put it on then taking a step back.
His brother unsheathed the sword, showing it for all the court to see. He knelt down, followed by the rest of his family then the Kingsguard, high Septon and the rest of the court.
Aerys ascended the iron throne and sat down. "Let us begin session for today's court." He said with authority on his voice. He looked up at him and saw a smile on his brother's face as he looked down at everyone.
She sat beside her husband at his right side while he lay down in bed with his eyes closed. Besides her to her right was Aerys alongside Rhaella. She held Rhaegar, recently having turned three in her arms. Opposite of her stood her husband's namesake and second son Jaehaerys alongside his heavily wife Daena. Serra stood beside her, a sweet girl of only 6 while she carried her baby brother Aemon, a newborn babe of only a year.
Her husband was barely breathing, having complained of a shortness of breath a few days prior. Now he lay abed once again, barely breathing and in and out of consciousness. A few moments passed and her husband opened her eyes, he looked around for a moment then his eyes locked in with hers. "I had a dream sister." There was a gentle smile on his face, in his deep purple eyes she saw a soft gentle light swaying within them, something she'd never seen before. He spoke with a firm tone, as if he was well again.
What hope she had for his survival was crushed by what he said. It was as if the fire within him was gone, and only embers remained. "Haven't you had enough dreams Jaehaerys?"
He smiled at looked up at the ceiling of their bedchamber, smiling once again. "I've had my share."
She felt as if her heart broke. A moment later he looked back at her again. "Shaera, thank you for everything."
She began to sob, she didn't want to hear any words of gratitude from him. She wanted to grow old with him, for their reign to be as long as the Conciliator and his wife. "Shaera." He reached towards his back, sitting up and taking off what seemed like an amulet. "Here, take it. I no longer have any need of it."
She took a closer look at it, recognizing it as the good luck charm she gave him all those years ago in Summerhall when they were young, when they realized their love and desire for one another. "I will give it to you." He took a deep breath as he sat back down, breathing heavily for a moment. "It will bring you good luck, as it has to me."
"Don't say that, it's yours." She sobbed a little, but he only smiled and shook his head.
"The night before we got married after we eloped. I stopped at a Sept. I knew what we did was wrong, to deny our family is to deny the gods themselves, and to deny the gods is to bring their wroth upon yourself. Which is why when I went to that Sept I prayed to all 7, that if they were to punish us that they should punish only me."
They were punishing her too already, she realized. For were they not going to take the only man she ever loved from her?
He turned to Aerys, "my son."
"Father?" He moved besides her and leaned closer to him.
"You have the potential to be a good King. Remember what I told you, listen to your advisors. Have good people as your council, not any sycophants that tell you sweet nothings. The moment you do, is the moment you'll secure your downfall. And....I'm sorry."
There was a look of regret in his eyes, "I know you resent me, for marrying you to Rhaella when I and your mother married for love. And it is within your right to do so. But the prophecy."
"Yes." Aerys nodded, "The prince that is promised, born of our line." He scowled as he said that.
"One day you will see, why I..." He took a deep breath and looked up to the ceiling. "You'll see why one day."
He turned to Jaehaerys next his namesake. "My son, promise this, help your brother. You too have the potential to be great, please, help your brother, guide him towards the right path."
"I promise, Father."
"Thank you." He smiled and closed his eyes. For a moment everyone tensed up, until he began to breath again.
"He's not dead yet." Pycelle said as he glanced at the king from the foot of the bed. "Rest assured my queen, I am doing everything I can."
"Thank you Pycelle."
--
Jaehaerys (Yang Wen-Li)
The next few hours passed by quickly, his father's condition steadily deteriorated. That last bit of energy and lucidity steadily faded, all that remained was his father's weakening breath. Outside, a rain had come to the city. The room was eerily silent, save for the raindrops falling outside.
"I am sorry." Pycelle wiped off sweat from his brow and turned to the queen. "There is no more I can do."
The queen only nodded, wiping a few tears as she glanced down at the King. He'd lost his own father in his last life, his accident leaving him alone in the universe and forcing him down the path that would lead him to becoming a hero of the alliance. But watching his father fade away so rapidly was it's own kind of suffering.
A few moments passed and he saw his father open his eyes once again and looking at his mother. "Mother?........Father?........ forgive.....me. I'm......" He took one last gaps and shut his eyes once again, a moment passed, then another. But no breath came from his body. Only a few moments later, thunder was heard, and Aemon started to cry, as did everyone else in the room, even he felt tears fall down his face.
"Your grace." Pycelle spoke in a timid tone as he looked at Aerys. "Shall I call for the silent sisters?"
His brother only nodded, shedding a few tears and sniffling a little. A few minutes passed, and the silent sisters came, everyone cleared the room. He took one last look at the body of the man he'd been named after and shut the door, being the last to leave.
He wondered aimlessly through the keep, the servants clearing the way for him and bowing in respect as news of the kings passing spread. He found himself in the godswood, the rain being reduced to a small drizzle. He walked up to the heart tree, placing his hand on it. It was a queer thing, he'd read records of earth's history before the 13 days war, and remembered reading a chapter on the old religions of earth, finding a few examples of the worship of nature.
He closed his eyes, finding it all strangely peaceful. As if his father, and his father when he was Yang Wen-Li were comforting him without words, telling him they were now at a better place. He felt more tears falling from his face, yet he felt relief, relief that his father's suffering was over.
He sat down on the grass in front of the tree, finding it strangely soft then opened his eyes. A few moments later, a crow landed in front of him, it's red eyes piercing into his soul. "Yang, Yang, Yang, Yang." It called out. "Wen-Li, Wen-li, Wen-li."
He gasped for a moment. "What?!" It was bewildering. No one had called him by his real name ever since his old life. Yet this crow knew, he felt as if he was being watched, not by the crow, rather as if someone was looking at him using the crow as a medium. He didn't feel any sort of malice, rather, it was as if they were curious, as to why he was here of all places.
"Who are you?" He asked the crow. "Are you the reason why I live again?"
"No, no, no, no." The crow flew up into the trees, disappearing into the godswood and leaving him alone. He laid down on the grass and sighed in exasperation, looking up at the sky and feeling the rain drops fall on his face then drip onto the ground. What the hell was that all about?
He hasn't been a believer in the supernatural in his old life. Schenkopp, Poplan, and all his friends that participated in combat directly were more inclined to it, believing in concepts such as the goddess of fortune or luck. But to him they were childish concepts, the only things he had faith on were on his battle plans and the institution of Republican Democracy.
Ever since his death however, he was more inclined towards religion. Though he didn't believe in the 7 personally, he held some sort of respect towards them, praying to the warrior for good fortune before every battle. Maybe I should read up about the old gods one of these days.
He closed his eyes for a moment, a moment later he opened them again. Dawn had broken across the city. And the bells had begun to ring. And above him his twin Aerys looked down on him.
"So this is were you were."
"What?" He sat up and looked around. "How, it was the middle of the night a few seconds ago. What's going on?"
"It's called falling asleep brother. The whole damn castle was looking for you. Never took you for someone to worship the old gods though."
"I wasn't."
"Whatever you say," he sat down on the grass right next to him. The smug smile he was wearing turned into a sad face. "Gods, even my japes aren't fun to make. I haven't felt this way this Summerhall."
"Tell me about it." He laid back down on the grass. "It's normal for parents to pass on before their kids. But." He felt a tear come on and began to sob a little. Jaehaerys had been a good father to him, spending as much time with him and his brother as his duties allowed. He still remembered the way he smiled as he uttered his first words in his new body. The memories of it made it all the safer for him.
Aerys broke down and began to sob as well, covering his face with his palms. "I was always so eager, I wanted to be king for so long. But if it means losing father like this."
He glanced up at his twin, though his heart had been shattered. His twin was to bear the greater burden. He sat up, hugging his brother as the two of them continued to sob. "I know." He told Aerys. "I know, I want him back as well."
He wondered if this was how Frederica and Julian felt once the news got to them. He wondered how his funeral would have been.
A few moments later and Aerys pulled away, still sniffling but he seemed more composed. "Brother, I need your help."
"What do you need?"
"My first action as king, I would name you hand of the king."
It didn't come as a surprise to him at this point, ever since they returned from the war his father had insisted that both of them attend small council meetings and shadow the other councilors. He had been placed as the cupbearer for the Kings hand and as his personal assistant, while Aerys had been father's cupbearer.
He wanted to refuse, he had no stomach for ruling in his old life. And her certainly has no stomach now. But this wasn't the alliance, and he couldn't say no to his own brother, especially at a time like this. Just a few years, I'll find someone else then I'll retire. Maybe I can join the city watch and serve as commander. "I will do as you command brother." He stopped sitting and knelt in front of his brother.
"My rule will be a golden age just like the Conciliator's was thanks to you. Stand."
--
Jaehaerys (Yang Wen-Li)
A fortnight of mourning was called, his father's bones were laid in state within the great Sept of Baelor. Once the fortnight passed the bones were retrieved, buried within the royal crypt.
It was the morning after the burial, his brother was to be crowned today. He stood in front of the Iron Throne, bearing the crow of Maekar Targaryen on his hands and wearing Blackfyre on his hip. The members of the Royal Court stood inside the throne room. Near the front of the crowd he spotted lord Steffon Baratheon and Tywin Lannister.
Besides him on his right stood his heavily pregnant wife Daena, his stepdaughter Serra who carried her halfbrother and his firstborn son Aemon. Besides Serra stood his mother the Queen Dowager Shaera, and besides his mother stood Rhaella who was holding his nephew Rhaegar's hand. They were all wearing black, to mourn the passing of their father. On his left in the meantime stood the high Septon, ready to anoint the king.
In front of the Iron Throne and his family stood the 7 members of the Kingsguard, their white armor recently polished and shining bright.
The door of the throne room opened, and his brother walked into the room. He looked every inch a king, wearing a full plate of black steel armor with the tabard of house Targaryen on front. The court said nothing as he made his way to the throne. He reached the foot of the iron throne, the Kingsguard stepped aside and he turned around to face the entire court. He knelt on the floor and the high Septon walked up behind him.
"In the name of the father, do you swear to reign justly?"
"I do."
"In the name of the mother, do you swear to show mercy to all your subjects?"
"I do."
"In the name of the warrior, do you swear to fight for your subjects?"
"I do."
"In the name of the smith, do you swear to keep the realm together?"
"I do."
"In the name of the maiden, do you swear to protect all women?"
"I do."
"In the name of the crone, do you swear to reign with wisdom."
"I do."
"Then rise, Aerys of house Targaryen. Long may you reign."
"Long may he reign!" The court erupted in cheers as his brother stood up. He walked up behind him, placing the crown on his head then undoing the straps on the scabbard for Blackfyre. He handed the sword to his brother, helping to put it on then taking a step back.
His brother unsheathed the sword, showing it for all the court to see. He knelt down, followed by the rest of his family then the Kingsguard, high Septon and the rest of the court.
Aerys ascended the iron throne and sat down. "Let us begin session for today's court." He said with authority on his voice. He looked up at him and saw a smile on his brother's face as he looked down at everyone.
The Kings Hand
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Alenco98
Getting sticky.
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Jaehaerys (Yang Wen-Li)
He awoke to the sound of knocking as he usually did. He glanced over at the door and yawned as he sat up. "My lord hand, dawn has arrived." Barristan's familiar voice rang from beyond the door as he got up from bed.
He walked to the door, opening it and acknowledging Barristan who returned to his post. He shut the door gently and made his way to his bed, taking off his bed shirt and leaving it on the bed. He took a pillow and went to the middle of the room where he put it on the floor. He placed his head on the pillow and did a headstand, once he counted to 100 he finished, standing up and shaking his arms a little. He then began to do bodyweight squats, doing a total of 50 slow and deliberate squats. Once he finished he got on the floor, doing slow and deliberate push ups until he got 50.
It was a basic workout routine Schenkopp recommended to him when he was fleet admiral. He tended to follow it religiously whenever he wasn't busy with campaigning or fighting a battle. It was one of the few things he carried over from his old life. The rest of his family including Daena found it strange, but he paid them little mind. Rhaegar was the exception however, recently he'd taken an interest in fighting, he'd been visiting Dragonstone with Rhaegar due to a trade dispute. A few days into their visit Rhaegar approached him and told him he read something in a book and he said he now needed to become a warrior.
He never thought himself as much of a warrior despite what the singers and his own brother said about him, but he did what he could and taught him the basics. These basics included his workout routine which he was now following religiously as well to the chagrin of his brother, calling it mummers tricks.
He finished the last of his push ups and caught his breath, standing up and making his way to the wardrobe. He put on a pair of black leather boots, a white tunic and black breeches the left the room, making sure to not wake up his wife. Once he stepped out of the room he acknowledged Barristan once again while he bowed his head as he passed by him.
He made his way to the training yard, where Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning and one of the most recent recruits to the Kingsguard sat in the sidelines as he polished dawn. "My prince." He smiled as he stood and bowed. "Are you ready to be humbled again?" He said in a cocky tune as he snickered a little.
"I think I have a good feeling about today." He said as he entered the armory and grabbed a basic shortsword and shield. Arthur followed him as well, leaving dawn with one of his squires and entering the armory as well where he grabbed a steel 2 handed sword.
They made their way to the center of the field where they got into position. 1 minute later, he laid in the floor while Dayne pointed his 2 hander at his throat. "Yield?"
"Yield." He said as he wiped the dirt off his clothes and stood up again. Dayne was a beast with the sword. He'd seen Schenkopp spar with some of the Rosen Ritter whenever he was off duty and he considered him the best hand to hand specialist the alliance had. Compared to Dayne however Schenkopp would be child's play to him. If they faced off he gave Schenkopp 2, maybe 3 minutes tops if he fought Dayne. If Dayne had dawn it would be over in less than than a minute. If Schenkopp had Blackfyre and faced Dayne it might give Dayne some trouble but it would be over within 5 minutes. "Shall we go again?"
"But of course." Dayne said as he got into position while he picked up his weapons. He sparred a total of 5 times with Dayne, losing by a greater margin each time. He thought if he put serious effort into training for a decade he might be able to give Dayne a decent fight. But he was the hand and had a kingdom to run. Once the fifth fight ended he left the training field and made his way to the hands tower, a servant had already drawn a bath for him and all he had to do was strip and enter.
He washed himself with the Lye soaps and oils they provided him. The servants insisted they bathe him, but he felt uncomfortable enough being royalty, he didn't wish to emulate the decadence of the Goldenbaum Dynasty and the leaders of The Alliance in its later years. After a 5 minute bath he exited, grabbing a towel a servant placed for him and dried himself off, putting on a black tunic and a red doublet with the symbol of his house on it. He saw on his couch and dried off his hair with his towel, styling it with his usual haircut he used when he was Yang Wen-Li and called for the servants to retrieve the tub.
Once done he sat down on his desk and began his work, going over the various ledgers, tax documents, petitions, and proposals that had been placed at his desk. 5 years had passed by quickly, having settled into his role as hand far more smoothly than he expected. He thanked the gods or whatever put him in this world for the staff that came along with being Hand.
He finished signing a tax document from house Darry detailing their yearly tribute as well as the report from the Master of Coin reporting the tribute and set the papers down on his finished file. As he reached over for another paper he heard the door being knocked. "Enter." He said as he looked towards the door and noticed the sun was fully up by now.
A page entered the room, "My lord hand, breakfast is ready. The rest of the royal family is waiting for you."
"Very well." He said as he stood up. "Have lord Baelish organize the papers, the finished pile is on the left while pending is on the right."
He stood up and stretched a little, being grateful for the break from his duties. He left the tower of the hand and made his way to Maegor's holdfast then entered the dining room just as his family was in the middle of eating.
--
Aerys
He sat at the head of the table, occasionally glancing at Rhaella. He had been in such a good mood, spending time in Lannisport and catching up to Joanna and the West. She had just given birth, 2 twins, boy and girl. With her being his first love he gave her a gift, the babies weight in gold as well as a promise that Jaime would foster with his son once he came of age.
Then when he came back to the capital what joy he had was shattered. Another stillbirth, It was the second one during his reign, with another one last year and 2 miscarriages the previous years before.
He glanced at his wife again, she was wearing a black mourning dress. Silently acknowledging the servants as she kept eating her meal. The first few times she miscarried he was there for her, giving her sweet words and trying to be comforting to her. But now all he felt was a bubbling frustration coming from deep inside his soul.
He glanced around the room, his son and heir Rhaegar sat on the right side of the table, right next to him at the very head of it. He was eating porridge mixed with milk and honey. Next to him sat the daughter of that Blackfyre whore who stole her brother's heart, Serra.
In front of Rhaegar sat Daena, another Blackfyre and his brother's wife. She'd gained a little weight, having recently given birth to another son, Aegon. His brother had 5 kids now if he included the little Blackfyre shit. Aemon was his eldest, Rhaenyra her second born, Aerys his third born, and now baby Baelon who was born a few months before Rhaella's miscarriage. Besides Serra sat Aemon, while in front of Aemon sat Rhaenyra who was playing with her food. Maekar in the meantime sat on a baby chair next to Rhaenyra as a servant fed him, while Baelon was with his wet nurse in his bedchamber. Finally, to the right of Daena was an empty seat where his brother was supposed to be.
He couldn't help but feel a pang of rage inside him as he saw his brothers children enjoy their meal. They should be my kids, not his. He shook his head and grabbed a cup of Arbor red, drinking it within a few seconds then slamming it down on the table as he sighed in relief.
His nephews and good sister looked at him, as did his wife and son. But he waved them off and they continued to eat. Where the hell is he?
A moment later, the door opened, and his brother entered the room. "Jaehaerys!" He yelled in a cheerful tune as he stood up and pointed at this seat. "Sit, sit! We've been waiting."
I shouldn't be so angry, he's helping me. He promised father he'd always help me. He glanced around the room once again, his brother sat down and began eating his meal, a small beef stew with honeyed milk. "Working hard again aren't you Jaehaerys?"
His brother looked at him and nodded, swallowing his food and washing it down with the milk. "I have, there's a lot of paperwork that I've been through, primarily consisting of tax receipts. But with the regional representatives in our council it's not too big of a deal. Lord Manderly in particular has been indispensable."
"Good, good." He sipped his wine as he glanced over at his brother. It was Jaehaerys' idea, to have representatives from all regions of the seven kingdoms to form a part of the small council, Dorne, The Reach, The Stormlands, The Westerlands, the Iron Islands, The vale, the Crownlands, the Riverlands, and the North. Each of the lords Paramount's of this region sent a representative from their region in order to sit in the small council.
It was irksome, he was the King, he didn't need some Ironborn or northern savage advising him in his council. But Jaehaerys insisted, he wanted to keep his grandfather's foolish reforms regarding the commoners, so he gave the high nobles these positions as a concession.
It wasn't the only concession he'd been forced to do through his reign. He'd wanted to build a new city of Marble across the blackwater, being sick of the smell of shit, instead his brother told him they should repair and expand the sewers of the capital. The rest of the representatives and the small council agreed, and so he'd been forced to go along with it lest he look foolish. He hated to admit it too, but the smell of the city had become a little less unbearable these last 5 years they'd worked on it. There were more plans though, they would tear down flea bottom, build more sewers there and better housing, once that phase was done the other slums around the city would follow.
It was the same for his other schemes, he intended to conquer the Stepstones. Instead his brother watered down his plans, ordering the royal fleet to take over the westernmost 2 islands of the Veil and Dustspear just off the Dornish coast, then granting the islands as Lordships for his son's Aemon and Aerys. They were currently under occupation by the the Royal levies raised, with strong keeps that were being built there. Those could have been my son's being granted Lordships had Rhaella not failed me. He glanced at her again and resisted the urger to slap her, he sighed in frustration and drank another cup.
He then recalled his dispute with Braavos, he intended to raise a fleet and bring the Titan to its knees. Instead Jaehaerys renegotiated the debt and began to pay it down, to which the representatives and councilors agreed with. He did however agree to the necessity of a larger royal fleet and began to build a naval arsenal based on the Braavosi one. They'd only began it's construction a year ago, and he estimated it would be 5 years before it would be fully operational. "Once we're finished, we can potentially fully conquer the Stepstones as you requested. But first we need to get our Treasury in order and finish building up our arsenal then our Navy." His brother had told him in the council room after the Bravoosi delegation left. "Kings Landing wasn't built in a day your grace, we need to take it one step at a time. If we're patient and play our cards right we can certainly enact some if not most of the plans you have for the realm."
Plans, yes he had plenty of them. He'd wanted to build a new wall and annex more of the lands beyond it. Instead, his brother proposed to build a trading town beyond the wall and begin trading with the wildings beyond the wall. Hardhome the supposedly cursed wilding city on the Narrow sea was rebuilt, with its lordship to be granted to Baelon when he was older. The northern lords and the night watch were opposed to it, in return, Jaehaerys offered a steady supply of 500 prisoners a year to the watch, along with a yearly subsidy which includes food and weapon ressuply. To the northern lords themselves he offered them a tax break, which they reluctantly accepted. He felt as if that was wasteful, but when the incomes from the town came in he rapidly changed his mind. Amber, Weirwood, furs, fish, fruits, and flowers. The Essosi came rushing to the capital and bought it, filling their Treasury and allowing them to rapidly pay off their debt.
He was grateful for his brother, but he was hearing rumors. Many servants and courtiers at court claimed Jaehaerys ruled the realm while he dallied away or was with his mistresses. He was this close to ripping out the tongue of one of Tywin's guards, until his brother intervened. "If you cut off a man's tongue it means you're afraid of what he says." He couldn't rebute that, not if he wanted to look like a fool. So he had him whipped and sent back to the Westerlands.
He took another look at Jaehaerys at his family then back at his wife. Next Time, next time she'll succeed. An heir and a spare, that's all I need for now. He looked up at the ceiling and said a small prayer to the father above.
The royal family as of 267 AC:
Queen Dowager Shaera Targaryen: Alive but depressed
King Aerys Targaryen: budding inferiority complex
Queen Rhaella Targaryen: saddened by another child death
Prince Rhaegar Targaryen: Heir to the throne, betrothed to Serra Blackfyre
Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen (formerly known as fleet admiral Yang Wenli): doing a decent job as hand and starting to introduce some semblance of republicanism to Westeros
Daena Blackfyre: Widow to Daemon then Maelys Blackfyre. Married to Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen (Gets along well with him)
Jaehaerys (Yang's kids)
Serra: Born 256, daughter of Daena and Daemon Blackfyre. Yang's stepdaughter and Rhaegar's betrothed.
Aemon: Born 261
Rhaenyra: Born 263
Aerys: Born 265
Baelon: Born 267
He awoke to the sound of knocking as he usually did. He glanced over at the door and yawned as he sat up. "My lord hand, dawn has arrived." Barristan's familiar voice rang from beyond the door as he got up from bed.
He walked to the door, opening it and acknowledging Barristan who returned to his post. He shut the door gently and made his way to his bed, taking off his bed shirt and leaving it on the bed. He took a pillow and went to the middle of the room where he put it on the floor. He placed his head on the pillow and did a headstand, once he counted to 100 he finished, standing up and shaking his arms a little. He then began to do bodyweight squats, doing a total of 50 slow and deliberate squats. Once he finished he got on the floor, doing slow and deliberate push ups until he got 50.
It was a basic workout routine Schenkopp recommended to him when he was fleet admiral. He tended to follow it religiously whenever he wasn't busy with campaigning or fighting a battle. It was one of the few things he carried over from his old life. The rest of his family including Daena found it strange, but he paid them little mind. Rhaegar was the exception however, recently he'd taken an interest in fighting, he'd been visiting Dragonstone with Rhaegar due to a trade dispute. A few days into their visit Rhaegar approached him and told him he read something in a book and he said he now needed to become a warrior.
He never thought himself as much of a warrior despite what the singers and his own brother said about him, but he did what he could and taught him the basics. These basics included his workout routine which he was now following religiously as well to the chagrin of his brother, calling it mummers tricks.
He finished the last of his push ups and caught his breath, standing up and making his way to the wardrobe. He put on a pair of black leather boots, a white tunic and black breeches the left the room, making sure to not wake up his wife. Once he stepped out of the room he acknowledged Barristan once again while he bowed his head as he passed by him.
He made his way to the training yard, where Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning and one of the most recent recruits to the Kingsguard sat in the sidelines as he polished dawn. "My prince." He smiled as he stood and bowed. "Are you ready to be humbled again?" He said in a cocky tune as he snickered a little.
"I think I have a good feeling about today." He said as he entered the armory and grabbed a basic shortsword and shield. Arthur followed him as well, leaving dawn with one of his squires and entering the armory as well where he grabbed a steel 2 handed sword.
They made their way to the center of the field where they got into position. 1 minute later, he laid in the floor while Dayne pointed his 2 hander at his throat. "Yield?"
"Yield." He said as he wiped the dirt off his clothes and stood up again. Dayne was a beast with the sword. He'd seen Schenkopp spar with some of the Rosen Ritter whenever he was off duty and he considered him the best hand to hand specialist the alliance had. Compared to Dayne however Schenkopp would be child's play to him. If they faced off he gave Schenkopp 2, maybe 3 minutes tops if he fought Dayne. If Dayne had dawn it would be over in less than than a minute. If Schenkopp had Blackfyre and faced Dayne it might give Dayne some trouble but it would be over within 5 minutes. "Shall we go again?"
"But of course." Dayne said as he got into position while he picked up his weapons. He sparred a total of 5 times with Dayne, losing by a greater margin each time. He thought if he put serious effort into training for a decade he might be able to give Dayne a decent fight. But he was the hand and had a kingdom to run. Once the fifth fight ended he left the training field and made his way to the hands tower, a servant had already drawn a bath for him and all he had to do was strip and enter.
He washed himself with the Lye soaps and oils they provided him. The servants insisted they bathe him, but he felt uncomfortable enough being royalty, he didn't wish to emulate the decadence of the Goldenbaum Dynasty and the leaders of The Alliance in its later years. After a 5 minute bath he exited, grabbing a towel a servant placed for him and dried himself off, putting on a black tunic and a red doublet with the symbol of his house on it. He saw on his couch and dried off his hair with his towel, styling it with his usual haircut he used when he was Yang Wen-Li and called for the servants to retrieve the tub.
Once done he sat down on his desk and began his work, going over the various ledgers, tax documents, petitions, and proposals that had been placed at his desk. 5 years had passed by quickly, having settled into his role as hand far more smoothly than he expected. He thanked the gods or whatever put him in this world for the staff that came along with being Hand.
He finished signing a tax document from house Darry detailing their yearly tribute as well as the report from the Master of Coin reporting the tribute and set the papers down on his finished file. As he reached over for another paper he heard the door being knocked. "Enter." He said as he looked towards the door and noticed the sun was fully up by now.
A page entered the room, "My lord hand, breakfast is ready. The rest of the royal family is waiting for you."
"Very well." He said as he stood up. "Have lord Baelish organize the papers, the finished pile is on the left while pending is on the right."
He stood up and stretched a little, being grateful for the break from his duties. He left the tower of the hand and made his way to Maegor's holdfast then entered the dining room just as his family was in the middle of eating.
--
Aerys
He sat at the head of the table, occasionally glancing at Rhaella. He had been in such a good mood, spending time in Lannisport and catching up to Joanna and the West. She had just given birth, 2 twins, boy and girl. With her being his first love he gave her a gift, the babies weight in gold as well as a promise that Jaime would foster with his son once he came of age.
Then when he came back to the capital what joy he had was shattered. Another stillbirth, It was the second one during his reign, with another one last year and 2 miscarriages the previous years before.
He glanced at his wife again, she was wearing a black mourning dress. Silently acknowledging the servants as she kept eating her meal. The first few times she miscarried he was there for her, giving her sweet words and trying to be comforting to her. But now all he felt was a bubbling frustration coming from deep inside his soul.
He glanced around the room, his son and heir Rhaegar sat on the right side of the table, right next to him at the very head of it. He was eating porridge mixed with milk and honey. Next to him sat the daughter of that Blackfyre whore who stole her brother's heart, Serra.
In front of Rhaegar sat Daena, another Blackfyre and his brother's wife. She'd gained a little weight, having recently given birth to another son, Aegon. His brother had 5 kids now if he included the little Blackfyre shit. Aemon was his eldest, Rhaenyra her second born, Aerys his third born, and now baby Baelon who was born a few months before Rhaella's miscarriage. Besides Serra sat Aemon, while in front of Aemon sat Rhaenyra who was playing with her food. Maekar in the meantime sat on a baby chair next to Rhaenyra as a servant fed him, while Baelon was with his wet nurse in his bedchamber. Finally, to the right of Daena was an empty seat where his brother was supposed to be.
He couldn't help but feel a pang of rage inside him as he saw his brothers children enjoy their meal. They should be my kids, not his. He shook his head and grabbed a cup of Arbor red, drinking it within a few seconds then slamming it down on the table as he sighed in relief.
His nephews and good sister looked at him, as did his wife and son. But he waved them off and they continued to eat. Where the hell is he?
A moment later, the door opened, and his brother entered the room. "Jaehaerys!" He yelled in a cheerful tune as he stood up and pointed at this seat. "Sit, sit! We've been waiting."
I shouldn't be so angry, he's helping me. He promised father he'd always help me. He glanced around the room once again, his brother sat down and began eating his meal, a small beef stew with honeyed milk. "Working hard again aren't you Jaehaerys?"
His brother looked at him and nodded, swallowing his food and washing it down with the milk. "I have, there's a lot of paperwork that I've been through, primarily consisting of tax receipts. But with the regional representatives in our council it's not too big of a deal. Lord Manderly in particular has been indispensable."
"Good, good." He sipped his wine as he glanced over at his brother. It was Jaehaerys' idea, to have representatives from all regions of the seven kingdoms to form a part of the small council, Dorne, The Reach, The Stormlands, The Westerlands, the Iron Islands, The vale, the Crownlands, the Riverlands, and the North. Each of the lords Paramount's of this region sent a representative from their region in order to sit in the small council.
It was irksome, he was the King, he didn't need some Ironborn or northern savage advising him in his council. But Jaehaerys insisted, he wanted to keep his grandfather's foolish reforms regarding the commoners, so he gave the high nobles these positions as a concession.
It wasn't the only concession he'd been forced to do through his reign. He'd wanted to build a new city of Marble across the blackwater, being sick of the smell of shit, instead his brother told him they should repair and expand the sewers of the capital. The rest of the representatives and the small council agreed, and so he'd been forced to go along with it lest he look foolish. He hated to admit it too, but the smell of the city had become a little less unbearable these last 5 years they'd worked on it. There were more plans though, they would tear down flea bottom, build more sewers there and better housing, once that phase was done the other slums around the city would follow.
It was the same for his other schemes, he intended to conquer the Stepstones. Instead his brother watered down his plans, ordering the royal fleet to take over the westernmost 2 islands of the Veil and Dustspear just off the Dornish coast, then granting the islands as Lordships for his son's Aemon and Aerys. They were currently under occupation by the the Royal levies raised, with strong keeps that were being built there. Those could have been my son's being granted Lordships had Rhaella not failed me. He glanced at her again and resisted the urger to slap her, he sighed in frustration and drank another cup.
He then recalled his dispute with Braavos, he intended to raise a fleet and bring the Titan to its knees. Instead Jaehaerys renegotiated the debt and began to pay it down, to which the representatives and councilors agreed with. He did however agree to the necessity of a larger royal fleet and began to build a naval arsenal based on the Braavosi one. They'd only began it's construction a year ago, and he estimated it would be 5 years before it would be fully operational. "Once we're finished, we can potentially fully conquer the Stepstones as you requested. But first we need to get our Treasury in order and finish building up our arsenal then our Navy." His brother had told him in the council room after the Bravoosi delegation left. "Kings Landing wasn't built in a day your grace, we need to take it one step at a time. If we're patient and play our cards right we can certainly enact some if not most of the plans you have for the realm."
Plans, yes he had plenty of them. He'd wanted to build a new wall and annex more of the lands beyond it. Instead, his brother proposed to build a trading town beyond the wall and begin trading with the wildings beyond the wall. Hardhome the supposedly cursed wilding city on the Narrow sea was rebuilt, with its lordship to be granted to Baelon when he was older. The northern lords and the night watch were opposed to it, in return, Jaehaerys offered a steady supply of 500 prisoners a year to the watch, along with a yearly subsidy which includes food and weapon ressuply. To the northern lords themselves he offered them a tax break, which they reluctantly accepted. He felt as if that was wasteful, but when the incomes from the town came in he rapidly changed his mind. Amber, Weirwood, furs, fish, fruits, and flowers. The Essosi came rushing to the capital and bought it, filling their Treasury and allowing them to rapidly pay off their debt.
He was grateful for his brother, but he was hearing rumors. Many servants and courtiers at court claimed Jaehaerys ruled the realm while he dallied away or was with his mistresses. He was this close to ripping out the tongue of one of Tywin's guards, until his brother intervened. "If you cut off a man's tongue it means you're afraid of what he says." He couldn't rebute that, not if he wanted to look like a fool. So he had him whipped and sent back to the Westerlands.
He took another look at Jaehaerys at his family then back at his wife. Next Time, next time she'll succeed. An heir and a spare, that's all I need for now. He looked up at the ceiling and said a small prayer to the father above.
The royal family as of 267 AC:
Queen Dowager Shaera Targaryen: Alive but depressed
King Aerys Targaryen: budding inferiority complex
Queen Rhaella Targaryen: saddened by another child death
Prince Rhaegar Targaryen: Heir to the throne, betrothed to Serra Blackfyre
Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen (formerly known as fleet admiral Yang Wenli): doing a decent job as hand and starting to introduce some semblance of republicanism to Westeros
Daena Blackfyre: Widow to Daemon then Maelys Blackfyre. Married to Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen (Gets along well with him)
Jaehaerys (Yang's kids)
Serra: Born 256, daughter of Daena and Daemon Blackfyre. Yang's stepdaughter and Rhaegar's betrothed.
Aemon: Born 261
Rhaenyra: Born 263
Aerys: Born 265
Baelon: Born 267
Last edited:
SunderedStar
Getting some practice in, huh?
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Looks like Jaeherys is starting to take the flak instead of Tywin. Good chapter.
Stress Fractures
New
Alenco98
Getting sticky.
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Myles Toyne
Myles Toyne strutted confidently into the Captain General's tent. It had been 7 years since their company had nearly been wiped out. They had lost everything, their king, their sword, their Captain's skulls. But for the first time in years he felt hope.
The 10 captains were all gathered, they'd spent these years rebuilding their numbers until they were at full strength again. They numbered 10 thousand men under arms again, a mix of infantry both light and heavy; ranged fighters consisting of archers, longbow and crossbowmen; and both light and heavy cavalry. They hadn't been sitting on their asses either, fending off both Lyseni and Myrish invasions, as well as putting down various uprisings against Adarys within Tyrosh. Adarys needed them and they knew it, having been lavished with Lordships and honors. The Golden company was now under permanent contract with Tyrosh, being its army in all but name.
"Why'd you call us again Toyne? It hasn't been a fortnight since our last meeting." Merwyn Peake gave him an annoyed look. He smell of roses and scented oils. Probably upset I interrupted his jaunt at a pillow house. He laid him no mind as he stepped into position at the head of the table.
"We found him." He said with a pep in his voice. "The boy we thought all but lost. Send him in!"
A few moments later, 2 knights of the Golden company entered, they parted and gave enough space for the boy to enter. He was lean, with short white hair typical for his house and purple eyes.
"Gods in heaven." Merwyn said as he took a look at the lad. "I thought he was lost."
"As did I." Myles said sincerely. "But Strickland never gave up, we found him 6 months ago, In Myr. Seems some sorcerer was about to buy him for some ritual. But we got our hands on him before he did, the false Kings agents are none the wiser, they think we lost him in Volantis." He chuckled in satisfaction as throwing the agents of the iron throne off his King's tail.
"Your grace." Crispian Cole interjected as he stood and walked up to him, kneeling in front of him. "It is an honor to finally see you again."
"Thank you Captain. Ser Harry has somewhat informed me of my situation. I do admit, it's rather surreal."
"Your grace," Toyne said as he dismissed the guards. "As you know, due to your position, certain things are expected of you."
"I know." Viserys nodded. "Ser Strickland informed me I am to become a page then a squire is that right?"
"Indeed." He nodded. "However, I believe it's best to keep your identity a secret, until the time is right to reveal it to the world. Which is why we'll be addressing you by the name you used when you used to be a mummer. Until the time is right, you will only be Varys, my squire."
"If you believe that is best, I shall do so."
--
Aerys
The funeral procession marched from the red keep, the bells of the capital rang out as the procession began. He felt as if his heart was torn out all over again. His mother and his son, both of them having died within a week.
He rode his white stallion, trying to keep both the mix of sadness and rage that swelled within his heart. Daeron, he was supposed to be Daeron, like the young dragon. He had been born 6 months ago, the say day his brothers second daughter Rhaena had been born. He glanced back at the carriage, where Daena sat inside as she carried her. She should be dead, not my boy. He sniffed a little as he glanced over at his brother who rode by his side, no no. He shook his head. I shouldn't be saying that, he's my brother. What would mother say if she knew I was thinking that?
Mother had never been the same after father died. She remained in her room, only emerging to join them for the occasional meal or to go to the sept. When he tried to see her she rarely spoke, only sitting there and hugging him as she cried softly. Now she was gone, a fever, the week before it was as if she was ok, then this.
He wondered if she was happy now, with father and all his sons and daughters that Rhaella failed to bear or that died in the cradle.
They arrived in front of the great sept of Baelor. The coffins were carried off by the pallbearers and were escorted into the Sept. They followed after, and the members of the royal court followed afterwards.
It was a long funeral, the Septon delivered his sermon. "They are now with the gods!" He proclaimed. "The gods have their own plan for all, it is up to us to follow their laws and the path they lay for all their children!"
Is that path supposed to mean pain and suffering for me? He took a look at each of the statues as he laid the customary offerings to them. "Why did you choose to take my children? Why did you take my mother?" He whispered softly to each of them as he passed them by. There was nothing from the statues, only a deafening silence towards him. The mother, father, smith, warrior, crone, maiden, even the stranger. None of them answered his pleas. As he took his seat he began to cry, realizing he had no power. He was the king, master of all from The Wall to the arm of Dorne. But how could he call himself a king if he couldn't even protect his own children from the grasp of death.
He felt a hand reach out and touch his shoulder. He looked and saw his brother giving him a sympathetic look. "Stop." He whispered as he swatted his hand away. His brother acquiesced, he seemed disappointed, but only nodded as he returned to his spot. He was the king, he was supposed to comfort his brother in his time of need, he was supposed to have grand plans for his realm, he was supposed to be known as a great ruler.
The memories returned once again, the whispers he'd hear as he walked around the palace. "Did you hear?" He recalled a conversation from one of the kitchen staff. "King said he wanted to go to war with Braavos. His brother and the council turned down that proposal."
"I heard the king wanted to conquer the lands beyond the wall but the council turned it down." Another courtier spoke once as he was walking to the garden and tending to his flowers.
"I heard he wanted to build another city across the Blackwater cause the capital reeks of shite, the hand said it would be cheaper to build more sewers." A sarjeant of the gold cloaks said once when he was visiting one of the brothels in the street of silk.
"The hand rules, while the king plays!"
"I heard the King's got more mistresses than Aegon the unworthy."
"How long will this mistress last? I got 1 gold dragon she'll be gone within a month."
"I heard the king lost 10 thousand gold dragons gambling on a tourney."
"I don't get why the king even bothers going to council meetings, he should just relax while his brother rules."
"I heard Rhaegar just son his first squires tourney, hopefully he'll make a great king one day."
The thoughts followed him as they returned from the funeral possession. Every time he looked at his brother and his family he felt a surge of rage in his heart. He closed his eyes, for a moment he dreamt about taking Blackfyre and plunging it through his nephew Aemon's heart while the others watched, only for him to pull himself back to reality. No, no, what the hells are you doing?! He's family, no one is more cursed than the kinslayer.
He tried to keep himself together, his heart tittered between wanting to murder his nephews to feeling an insurmountable guilt. He recited the 7 holy commandments in his head. Thou shall be chaste, thou shall be restrained, thou shall be charitable, thou shall be diligent, thou shall be kind, thou shall be patient, thou shall be humble.
Chaste? What a joke, you've more mistresses than Aegon the unworthy. Restrained? I drink more than my family combined? Charitable? When my Treasury is overflowing and the people starve? Diligent? While I play and my brother rules? Kind? When I've killed others and taken joy in it? Patient? When my impatience almost led me to declaring war on Braavos? Humble? Someone who wears fine silks and lives in a palace while his people toils?
Thou shall be chaste, thou shall be restrained, thou shall be charitable, thou shall be diligent, thou shall be kind, thou shall be patient, thou shall be humble. He repeated that mantra to himself over and over again as the voice in his head rebutted him and forced him to lose himself deeper in his thoughts.
Thou shall be chaste, thou shall be restrained, thou shall be charitable, thou shall be diligent, thou shall be ki- he felt a hand on his shoulder once again. "What?!" He turned and slapped the hand away. Finding his brother giving him a surprised expression.
"Aerys? Are you ok? You've been sitting on the horse for a good minute now."
He looked at his hand, then at his brother. He looked around and realized he was in the middle of the grounds inside the red keep. He's just trying to help, he's just trying to help. He took a deep breath as he nodded meekly, undoing the straps for his horse and slowly descending. Ohh gods what I have done? I hit my own brother? He approached him and hugged him, the began to sob.
He felt his brother embrace him, hugging him tightly as he continued to cry. When all the rage and sadness in his heart seemingly went away he pulled away from his brother. "I'm sorry," he sobbed. "I'm sorry."
"You shouldn't be, we're brothers Aerys. I'll always be there for you.".
He felt relief, the shame inside him seemingly vanished and he entered the keep. He made his way to his own bedchamber, asking Arthur Dayne to make sure no one, not even his wife entered. He took one of the chairs and placed it near the window, looking out towards the city as he watched the rain fall and the bells toll.
He had Blackfyre upon his lap, the Valyrian steel glinting despite the grayness of the day. He could see his face reflected on it. He set the sword down on the table and looked out the window. From below the workers and servants within the keep seemed like ants to him.
I am the king. They are there to serve me. He looked back to the chair and sat back down, holding Blackfyre once again. "I am the King."
"I am the king." He repeated as he held up Blackfyre and stood up. He turned around and faced the chair, a Weirwood chair with the sigil of his house decorated on it. It held a pillow with a purple silk cover, the chair itself was decorated with amber and various other gems, a gift his brother gave him for his previous name day.
"I am the king!" He swung down Blackfyre with all his might. "I am the king! I am the king! I am the king! I am the king!" He cut the chair into various pieces, leaving only bare remnants on the floor within only a minute.
A few moments later, Arthur Dayne came in. "I told you I was not to be disturbed!" He yelled at him. "You dare to disobey your king?!"
"Your grace." Arthur's face turned pale. "I heard screaming and thought an assassin came in."
"Get out! And call a damn servant, tell him to clean this up and burn it! With wildfire! Yes, that will do." He nodded in approval.
"Your grace." Dayne bowed his head slightly and exited the room, leaving him with his brothers destroyed present. He went over to his bed and sat down, leaving Blackfyre at his side.
A few minutes later the servants came in, cleaning up the chair and leaving a replacement for him. He laid down on his bed, looking up at the ceiling of his room. There's going to be changes around here, I am the king. He gripped Blackfyre tightly as he sat up on his bed once again.
--
Jaehaerys (Yang Wen-Li)
Jaehaerys took his spot at the hand's chair right next to where Aerys's seat was supposed to be. Aerys didn't attend council meetings regularly, usually once or maybe twice a week. It had been the same in the old Goldenbaum Dynasty. While the Emperors played away in their gardens or their harems, the prime minister did all the hard work of running the government.
Despite that however, he made sure to brief him on the ins and out of what affairs were conducted on the days he didn't attend. He'd heard the rumors as well, that he ruled while his brother played, and he wanted to distance himself from them. By ensuring he was briefing his brothers on the daily affairs of state it made him seem as if he was merely a dutiful servant. Though he admitted his brother's lack of interest in ruling was a good thing in a way, he'd been able to pass many reforms to somewhat modernize the realm and pave the way for republicanism.
His small council for one was greatly expanded. There were the traditional positions, with himself as hand, Tywin Lannister as master of coin, his cousin Steffon Baratheon as master of laws, Pycelle as the grand maester, Lucerys Velaryon as master of ships, Gerold Hightower as the Lord commander of the Kingsguard, and Gyles Rosby as master of whispers.
Then were the regional representatives, on paper they were a concession he made, a representative from each of the Lord Paramountcies would serve in the small council as an advisor to the king. Lord Wyman Manderly from the north, Bryden Tully from the Riverlands, Rodrik Harlaw from the Iron Islands, Yohn Royce from the Vale, Stafford Lannister from the Westerlands, Lord Paramount Luthor Tyrell from the Reach, Prince Doran Martell heir of Dorne and Renly Estermont goodfather to Steffon Baratheon.
It was a good start, though for now they were appointed by their respective lords paramount, he planned to arrange for them to be elected by the lords of their respective region, another step towards republicanism. However, he needed to increase the authority of the crown to take that next step. And for that he needed money, money and armies.
He had today's agenda laid out on the table in front of him. More tax disputes, tariff disputes, as well as petitions from all over the realm. As he took the first paper from the pile the door burst open.
The council chamber looked in surprise as Aerys walked inside, he was dressed in a black doublet as well as a black tunic and a dark cape with the sigil of his house. At his side stood Blackfyre, sheathed but ready to be drawn. He swaggered to his seat, sitting down and glancing over at the council.
He was the first to stand up, bowing his head slightly. "Your grace, it's a pleasure that you could join us."
"Thank you brother." He nodded in approval as he looked around the council room. He took a closer look at his face, there were bags under his eyes, the whites of his eyes were partially red. He's been crying. "Now then." He continued. "What is the agenda for today?"
He pulled up the first paper from the stack he bought, a land dispute between houses Bracken and Blackwood. "The first agenda for today your grace, is a dispute between houses Blackwood and Bracken regarding land demarcations. Here your grace." He handed Aerys the paper and he head it over, nodding as he got through the paper then slid it back to him once he was done.
"What do you recommend we do my Lord hand?"
"I recommend sending someone over from the office of the master of laws and doing a survey between these lands. Due to the nature of the Bracken-Blackwood rivalry we'll need a neutral party to settle things."
"Wouldn't House Tully be sufficient? Why bring it up with us?" Aerys questioned.
"It seems House Bracken was dissatisfied with the decision, and using their right to appeal they bought it up to us."
"I see." He nodded. "I believe house Targaryen should show it's friends we don't forget about them." Aerys smiled as he nodded in seeming self satisfaction.
"Sorry?"
"Our Grandmother was a Blackwood was she not? I believe we should repay house blackwood back and rule in favor of them."
"Your grace I beli-"
Aerys slammed his hand on the table, cutting him off. "That is final! There will be no more discussion on the matter."
"As you wish." It was a cold reminder to him that at the end of the day he still lived under the whims of a monarch. It was strange though, he'd never acted like this before, when his other children died he tended to seclude himself and spend time with his mistresses, not attending council meetings for a month.
He assumed it was due to their mother and his son passing away practically at the same time. He recalled when Frederica's father passed away shortly before the alliance civil war ended she seemingly threw herself into her work to forget her grief. He reminded himself to talk to his brother after this. For now, he pulled out another paper, the second subject in their agenda, this time regarding tariffs in Old-Town.
Myles Toyne strutted confidently into the Captain General's tent. It had been 7 years since their company had nearly been wiped out. They had lost everything, their king, their sword, their Captain's skulls. But for the first time in years he felt hope.
The 10 captains were all gathered, they'd spent these years rebuilding their numbers until they were at full strength again. They numbered 10 thousand men under arms again, a mix of infantry both light and heavy; ranged fighters consisting of archers, longbow and crossbowmen; and both light and heavy cavalry. They hadn't been sitting on their asses either, fending off both Lyseni and Myrish invasions, as well as putting down various uprisings against Adarys within Tyrosh. Adarys needed them and they knew it, having been lavished with Lordships and honors. The Golden company was now under permanent contract with Tyrosh, being its army in all but name.
"Why'd you call us again Toyne? It hasn't been a fortnight since our last meeting." Merwyn Peake gave him an annoyed look. He smell of roses and scented oils. Probably upset I interrupted his jaunt at a pillow house. He laid him no mind as he stepped into position at the head of the table.
"We found him." He said with a pep in his voice. "The boy we thought all but lost. Send him in!"
A few moments later, 2 knights of the Golden company entered, they parted and gave enough space for the boy to enter. He was lean, with short white hair typical for his house and purple eyes.
"Gods in heaven." Merwyn said as he took a look at the lad. "I thought he was lost."
"As did I." Myles said sincerely. "But Strickland never gave up, we found him 6 months ago, In Myr. Seems some sorcerer was about to buy him for some ritual. But we got our hands on him before he did, the false Kings agents are none the wiser, they think we lost him in Volantis." He chuckled in satisfaction as throwing the agents of the iron throne off his King's tail.
"Your grace." Crispian Cole interjected as he stood and walked up to him, kneeling in front of him. "It is an honor to finally see you again."
"Thank you Captain. Ser Harry has somewhat informed me of my situation. I do admit, it's rather surreal."
"Your grace," Toyne said as he dismissed the guards. "As you know, due to your position, certain things are expected of you."
"I know." Viserys nodded. "Ser Strickland informed me I am to become a page then a squire is that right?"
"Indeed." He nodded. "However, I believe it's best to keep your identity a secret, until the time is right to reveal it to the world. Which is why we'll be addressing you by the name you used when you used to be a mummer. Until the time is right, you will only be Varys, my squire."
"If you believe that is best, I shall do so."
--
Aerys
The funeral procession marched from the red keep, the bells of the capital rang out as the procession began. He felt as if his heart was torn out all over again. His mother and his son, both of them having died within a week.
He rode his white stallion, trying to keep both the mix of sadness and rage that swelled within his heart. Daeron, he was supposed to be Daeron, like the young dragon. He had been born 6 months ago, the say day his brothers second daughter Rhaena had been born. He glanced back at the carriage, where Daena sat inside as she carried her. She should be dead, not my boy. He sniffed a little as he glanced over at his brother who rode by his side, no no. He shook his head. I shouldn't be saying that, he's my brother. What would mother say if she knew I was thinking that?
Mother had never been the same after father died. She remained in her room, only emerging to join them for the occasional meal or to go to the sept. When he tried to see her she rarely spoke, only sitting there and hugging him as she cried softly. Now she was gone, a fever, the week before it was as if she was ok, then this.
He wondered if she was happy now, with father and all his sons and daughters that Rhaella failed to bear or that died in the cradle.
They arrived in front of the great sept of Baelor. The coffins were carried off by the pallbearers and were escorted into the Sept. They followed after, and the members of the royal court followed afterwards.
It was a long funeral, the Septon delivered his sermon. "They are now with the gods!" He proclaimed. "The gods have their own plan for all, it is up to us to follow their laws and the path they lay for all their children!"
Is that path supposed to mean pain and suffering for me? He took a look at each of the statues as he laid the customary offerings to them. "Why did you choose to take my children? Why did you take my mother?" He whispered softly to each of them as he passed them by. There was nothing from the statues, only a deafening silence towards him. The mother, father, smith, warrior, crone, maiden, even the stranger. None of them answered his pleas. As he took his seat he began to cry, realizing he had no power. He was the king, master of all from The Wall to the arm of Dorne. But how could he call himself a king if he couldn't even protect his own children from the grasp of death.
He felt a hand reach out and touch his shoulder. He looked and saw his brother giving him a sympathetic look. "Stop." He whispered as he swatted his hand away. His brother acquiesced, he seemed disappointed, but only nodded as he returned to his spot. He was the king, he was supposed to comfort his brother in his time of need, he was supposed to have grand plans for his realm, he was supposed to be known as a great ruler.
The memories returned once again, the whispers he'd hear as he walked around the palace. "Did you hear?" He recalled a conversation from one of the kitchen staff. "King said he wanted to go to war with Braavos. His brother and the council turned down that proposal."
"I heard the king wanted to conquer the lands beyond the wall but the council turned it down." Another courtier spoke once as he was walking to the garden and tending to his flowers.
"I heard he wanted to build another city across the Blackwater cause the capital reeks of shite, the hand said it would be cheaper to build more sewers." A sarjeant of the gold cloaks said once when he was visiting one of the brothels in the street of silk.
"The hand rules, while the king plays!"
"I heard the King's got more mistresses than Aegon the unworthy."
"How long will this mistress last? I got 1 gold dragon she'll be gone within a month."
"I heard the king lost 10 thousand gold dragons gambling on a tourney."
"I don't get why the king even bothers going to council meetings, he should just relax while his brother rules."
"I heard Rhaegar just son his first squires tourney, hopefully he'll make a great king one day."
The thoughts followed him as they returned from the funeral possession. Every time he looked at his brother and his family he felt a surge of rage in his heart. He closed his eyes, for a moment he dreamt about taking Blackfyre and plunging it through his nephew Aemon's heart while the others watched, only for him to pull himself back to reality. No, no, what the hells are you doing?! He's family, no one is more cursed than the kinslayer.
He tried to keep himself together, his heart tittered between wanting to murder his nephews to feeling an insurmountable guilt. He recited the 7 holy commandments in his head. Thou shall be chaste, thou shall be restrained, thou shall be charitable, thou shall be diligent, thou shall be kind, thou shall be patient, thou shall be humble.
Chaste? What a joke, you've more mistresses than Aegon the unworthy. Restrained? I drink more than my family combined? Charitable? When my Treasury is overflowing and the people starve? Diligent? While I play and my brother rules? Kind? When I've killed others and taken joy in it? Patient? When my impatience almost led me to declaring war on Braavos? Humble? Someone who wears fine silks and lives in a palace while his people toils?
Thou shall be chaste, thou shall be restrained, thou shall be charitable, thou shall be diligent, thou shall be kind, thou shall be patient, thou shall be humble. He repeated that mantra to himself over and over again as the voice in his head rebutted him and forced him to lose himself deeper in his thoughts.
Thou shall be chaste, thou shall be restrained, thou shall be charitable, thou shall be diligent, thou shall be ki- he felt a hand on his shoulder once again. "What?!" He turned and slapped the hand away. Finding his brother giving him a surprised expression.
"Aerys? Are you ok? You've been sitting on the horse for a good minute now."
He looked at his hand, then at his brother. He looked around and realized he was in the middle of the grounds inside the red keep. He's just trying to help, he's just trying to help. He took a deep breath as he nodded meekly, undoing the straps for his horse and slowly descending. Ohh gods what I have done? I hit my own brother? He approached him and hugged him, the began to sob.
He felt his brother embrace him, hugging him tightly as he continued to cry. When all the rage and sadness in his heart seemingly went away he pulled away from his brother. "I'm sorry," he sobbed. "I'm sorry."
"You shouldn't be, we're brothers Aerys. I'll always be there for you.".
He felt relief, the shame inside him seemingly vanished and he entered the keep. He made his way to his own bedchamber, asking Arthur Dayne to make sure no one, not even his wife entered. He took one of the chairs and placed it near the window, looking out towards the city as he watched the rain fall and the bells toll.
He had Blackfyre upon his lap, the Valyrian steel glinting despite the grayness of the day. He could see his face reflected on it. He set the sword down on the table and looked out the window. From below the workers and servants within the keep seemed like ants to him.
I am the king. They are there to serve me. He looked back to the chair and sat back down, holding Blackfyre once again. "I am the King."
"I am the king." He repeated as he held up Blackfyre and stood up. He turned around and faced the chair, a Weirwood chair with the sigil of his house decorated on it. It held a pillow with a purple silk cover, the chair itself was decorated with amber and various other gems, a gift his brother gave him for his previous name day.
"I am the king!" He swung down Blackfyre with all his might. "I am the king! I am the king! I am the king! I am the king!" He cut the chair into various pieces, leaving only bare remnants on the floor within only a minute.
A few moments later, Arthur Dayne came in. "I told you I was not to be disturbed!" He yelled at him. "You dare to disobey your king?!"
"Your grace." Arthur's face turned pale. "I heard screaming and thought an assassin came in."
"Get out! And call a damn servant, tell him to clean this up and burn it! With wildfire! Yes, that will do." He nodded in approval.
"Your grace." Dayne bowed his head slightly and exited the room, leaving him with his brothers destroyed present. He went over to his bed and sat down, leaving Blackfyre at his side.
A few minutes later the servants came in, cleaning up the chair and leaving a replacement for him. He laid down on his bed, looking up at the ceiling of his room. There's going to be changes around here, I am the king. He gripped Blackfyre tightly as he sat up on his bed once again.
--
Jaehaerys (Yang Wen-Li)
Jaehaerys took his spot at the hand's chair right next to where Aerys's seat was supposed to be. Aerys didn't attend council meetings regularly, usually once or maybe twice a week. It had been the same in the old Goldenbaum Dynasty. While the Emperors played away in their gardens or their harems, the prime minister did all the hard work of running the government.
Despite that however, he made sure to brief him on the ins and out of what affairs were conducted on the days he didn't attend. He'd heard the rumors as well, that he ruled while his brother played, and he wanted to distance himself from them. By ensuring he was briefing his brothers on the daily affairs of state it made him seem as if he was merely a dutiful servant. Though he admitted his brother's lack of interest in ruling was a good thing in a way, he'd been able to pass many reforms to somewhat modernize the realm and pave the way for republicanism.
His small council for one was greatly expanded. There were the traditional positions, with himself as hand, Tywin Lannister as master of coin, his cousin Steffon Baratheon as master of laws, Pycelle as the grand maester, Lucerys Velaryon as master of ships, Gerold Hightower as the Lord commander of the Kingsguard, and Gyles Rosby as master of whispers.
Then were the regional representatives, on paper they were a concession he made, a representative from each of the Lord Paramountcies would serve in the small council as an advisor to the king. Lord Wyman Manderly from the north, Bryden Tully from the Riverlands, Rodrik Harlaw from the Iron Islands, Yohn Royce from the Vale, Stafford Lannister from the Westerlands, Lord Paramount Luthor Tyrell from the Reach, Prince Doran Martell heir of Dorne and Renly Estermont goodfather to Steffon Baratheon.
It was a good start, though for now they were appointed by their respective lords paramount, he planned to arrange for them to be elected by the lords of their respective region, another step towards republicanism. However, he needed to increase the authority of the crown to take that next step. And for that he needed money, money and armies.
He had today's agenda laid out on the table in front of him. More tax disputes, tariff disputes, as well as petitions from all over the realm. As he took the first paper from the pile the door burst open.
The council chamber looked in surprise as Aerys walked inside, he was dressed in a black doublet as well as a black tunic and a dark cape with the sigil of his house. At his side stood Blackfyre, sheathed but ready to be drawn. He swaggered to his seat, sitting down and glancing over at the council.
He was the first to stand up, bowing his head slightly. "Your grace, it's a pleasure that you could join us."
"Thank you brother." He nodded in approval as he looked around the council room. He took a closer look at his face, there were bags under his eyes, the whites of his eyes were partially red. He's been crying. "Now then." He continued. "What is the agenda for today?"
He pulled up the first paper from the stack he bought, a land dispute between houses Bracken and Blackwood. "The first agenda for today your grace, is a dispute between houses Blackwood and Bracken regarding land demarcations. Here your grace." He handed Aerys the paper and he head it over, nodding as he got through the paper then slid it back to him once he was done.
"What do you recommend we do my Lord hand?"
"I recommend sending someone over from the office of the master of laws and doing a survey between these lands. Due to the nature of the Bracken-Blackwood rivalry we'll need a neutral party to settle things."
"Wouldn't House Tully be sufficient? Why bring it up with us?" Aerys questioned.
"It seems House Bracken was dissatisfied with the decision, and using their right to appeal they bought it up to us."
"I see." He nodded. "I believe house Targaryen should show it's friends we don't forget about them." Aerys smiled as he nodded in seeming self satisfaction.
"Sorry?"
"Our Grandmother was a Blackwood was she not? I believe we should repay house blackwood back and rule in favor of them."
"Your grace I beli-"
Aerys slammed his hand on the table, cutting him off. "That is final! There will be no more discussion on the matter."
"As you wish." It was a cold reminder to him that at the end of the day he still lived under the whims of a monarch. It was strange though, he'd never acted like this before, when his other children died he tended to seclude himself and spend time with his mistresses, not attending council meetings for a month.
He assumed it was due to their mother and his son passing away practically at the same time. He recalled when Frederica's father passed away shortly before the alliance civil war ended she seemingly threw herself into her work to forget her grief. He reminded himself to talk to his brother after this. For now, he pulled out another paper, the second subject in their agenda, this time regarding tariffs in Old-Town.
Tta160
Getting sticky.
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Golden company is going to be struggling in dispute land because many essos free city let them rebuild every time they fail blackfyre rebellion but now taking over free city together with many people believe blackfyre bloodline is end they started to look like they are planning for conquest in essos.
So I think Golden company might even face essos alliance against them.
So I think Golden company might even face essos alliance against them.
The King and the Bravo
New
Alenco98
Getting sticky.
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Join the Golden Company they said, you'll make lots of gold they said. He laughed as he glanced up at the blinding sun, partially blocking it with his hand. Nobody ever mentioned the messy business of fighting for your life in the middle of a chaotic battlefield. All the lessons he'd learnt as a young Bravo were thrown out the window, this was total war, as the Golden Company put it.
He grabbed the wine pouch he placed on his left side, trying to take a sip from it. The last drop of Tyroshi cider was like sweet honey for his mouth. I should have packed more. He threw the pouch as far away from where he laid, seeing it land on a nearby dead horse.
Moving was impossible, the dead body he was laying on was too comfortable to stand up from. And he was too out of energy after fighting for his life all through the morning. Maybe at night once the damn sun is out. He closed his eyes, snoozing a little until he heard the sound of hooves.
He glanced over to his left in their direction, going stiff but putting his hand near his sword. He saw the horses approach, realizing they were wearing the gold of the Golden company. "Hey," he called out. But his voice was hoarse. He tried to stand, only for him to fall to the ground after rolling over and trying to crawl backwards, falling face first into the dusty ground of the disputed lands.
He rolled over, being face up again and hacked up the dust he'd swallowed. The hooves stopped, and he heard footsteps approach him. A boy's head blocked out the sun, he had short blue hair, with dark purple eyes that almost seemed blue. He knelt down and gave him a hand. "Can you walk?" He asked in what sounded like Westerosi. Must be the son of one of those exile summer knights.
"I no speak Westerosi." He said in his best Tyroshi. They were similar enough to receive and to give orders. But he needed to brush up on it if he wanted to serve for long.
"Where are you from?" The boy asked in Tyroshi.
"Pentos."
"You're far from home." He laughed as he pulled him up. "Can you walk?"
"Barely."
"It's alright, I'll help you get back to camp. What's your name?"
"Illyrio." He tried to take a step, but he almost collapsed, the boy saving him from falling at the last moment.
"Illyrio huh?" He stopped and pondered for a moment. "It's a common name isn't it? I know a few Illyrio's in camp. Do you have a family name?"
"Mopatis."
He smiled and seemingly nodded in approval, "Mopatis is a good name. It gives a good impression, like a gentle wind that blows through these grasslands then joins it's fellow winds in the sea to create a storm." He seemed self satisfied at his snobbish statement. "From now on I'll call you Mopatis."
"What are y-"
"If it wasn't for me you'd probably have died out there. It seems fate destined for us to be friends." He smiled at him then looked ahead. "Captain-General Toyne!" He yelled in Westerosi, not understanding what they said to each other afterwards.
He knows the captain general?!
"Varys, who is that with you?"
"His name is Illyrio Mopatis, we just became friends. He even has the sigil of our company, see?" He pointed at the sigil on his chest.
"Any other survivors?"
"Not as far as I can tell." He shook his head.
"Get the boy on your horse, we're moving back to base camp."
"Yes sir!"
They walked a few more steps and reached his horse, a brown mustang. He helped him onto the horse first, then he mounted the horse. "We'll get back to our base shortly. It's nice to meet you Mopatis."
--
Illyrio, 6 months later
Illyrio descended from the Golden Company's flagship Jadefyre onto the port of Tyrosh behind Varys and Captain General Toyne. The Bleeding Tower loomed over him, leaving a massive shadow over part of the harbor. "It's your first time in the city proper right Mopatis?" Varys spoke in Westerosi and turned to him as he pointed out the various landmarks. His Westerosi had improved thanks to Varys teaching him, and he was grateful to him for it. But Varys was a strange boy, he was only 14, 3 years younger than he was, yet he was tall as he was despite that. One moment he could be the most mature person in the room, yet the next he would act like a child. For one, he had a bad habit of making puns out of every little thing he saw.
The harbor itself was a bustle of activity, he spotted ships from all the major free cities. Varys pointed out the various flags and sigils on the ships, "there's a cog from Braavos over there, and a dromond from Volantis." He would point out, he was surprising knowledgeable about them. Probably not his first time here, he reckoned to himself. There were also ships from other corners of the world according to Varys. He spotted some from Westeros, they generally bore the sigil of the various noble houses, Velaryon, Celtigar, Redwyne, and Hightower being the most prominent ones, though he did see a few with the Targaryen sigil, which made Varys very uncomfortable when he saw them to his amusement.
They weren't the only ships there as well, there were more from Ibben, Ghis, Mereen, Qarth, Yi-Ti, even one with the ominous sigil of Asshai. The majority of ships however were occupied by the Tyroshi fleets. Some were affiliated with the city of Tyrosh themselves, used to defend from pirates based out of the Stepstones as well as the rival free cities. Others were owned by the various merchant guilds, craftsmen, as well as the nobility, and finally there were the ships of the Golden Company.
According to Varys, they had only recently made their foray into building a fleet once they captured several port cities on the southern coast of the disputed lands from the Lysene. As Tyrosh's main army on the disputed lands in all but name, they had focused primarily on fending off Lysene as well as Myrish incursions. But as Adarys remained in power far longer than an Archon normally did, opposition within the city grew and the Tyrant of Tyrosh began to lean even more on them, using them to put down uprisings within the city and the mainland. In return for this, the Archon began granting them lands captured from the Lysene and Myrish in lieu of payment, the so called Tegon Irudy or land gifts. "Toyne has a large estate near the coast of Tyrosh." He once said as they were marching back to the main port where their fleet was based in just off the coast of Tyrosh in the mainland. "It stretches as far as the eye can see and produces the sweetest ciders I've drank." He offered him a pouch back then, to his credit it was the sweetest cider he tasted.
This granting of lands meant an influx of wealth for the company. And for the first time they were able to commission ships for themselves rather than rely on sell-sails and the Tyroshi fleet to transport them from the mainland to the city proper and vice versa. Their burgeoning fleet was small, compared to the 500 fighting ready Tyroshi ships, they only had 100. But it would grow in time according to Varys, and it was just enough to ferry a significant amount of the company to the main island to repress any uprisings or assist the main Tyroshi fleet in repelling the other rival cities.
The last of the ports ships and the shadow of the Bleeding Tower slowly went out of his sight as he marched on, making his way out of the docks right behind Varys and Toyne and towards the walls of Tyrosh proper. Above them, on top of the walls of the city and around the docks and harbor, the Arlie Azantys, the slave soldiers dedicated to defending Tyrosh's Walls and shores from external invaders eyed them suspiciously. "Keep this in mind the fact we can walk in as is means really privileged in Tyrosh Mopatis." Varys whispered to him as they approached the walls. "Few are allowed the privilege of holding weapons within Tyrosh proper, the honor is reserved only for the scions of the major noble families, guild leaders, merchant princes and their private militias."
"I assume we can because we're Adarys' men right?"
"Yup." Varys smiled and nodded. They were of the Golden Company, the bitter steel fist of the Tyrant as their enemies called them, having won land for Tyrosh in the disputed lands, and being granted Tegon Irudy on the mainland. Even he, a lowly footman of only six and ten years within the company now had half an acre with 10 farmers and a foreman to work his land after the latest campaign. Though he was forced to free them, "No one in the Golden Company may own a slave." Captain General Toyne lectured them as he parceled out the lands granted to them by the Tyrant. However, their Westerosi model of managing their so called smallfolk in Westeros was barely any different than owning slaves to him so he paid it no mind when he freed his slaves, keeping them under his service and paying them a small wage to work his new land.
They passed under the city walls and, left the suspicious eyes of the Arlie Azantys, entering the friendlier domain of the Mentyr hen lyks, the city watch of Tyrosh. Like the Arlie Azantys they were also slave soldiers, dedicated to maintaining internal order within Tyrosh. In normal times they were enough to maintain order. But with the nobility along with sections of the guilds and mercantile factions heavily opposed to Adarys they were finding themselves increasingly pressed, with strikes and attacks becoming a weekly occurrence. This wasn't even taking into account the previous uprisings led by elements of all 3 factions. Having been brutally put down by the Golden Company and the Mentyri only a few months ago. "Don't get separated here Mopatis." Varys whispered as they marched in the city. "Some of our men have disappeared within the city, even the brothels aren't safe these days if you're into that." He chuckled at him as he turned his head from him in embarrassment.
Varys was right though, he felt unsafe marching here, even while marching down the streets alongside 1000 heavily armed soldiers. He felt as if he were being watched, the merchants, guild leaders, and nobles along with their private militias and hired sellswords wanting for any opportunity to strike them down.
As they entered the grounds of the Archons palace he felt relief. It was one of the few places in the city where no private militias were allowed without the Archons leave. The fact they stood here represented how much trust the Archon had in them. They formed a perfect square just outside the entrance of the main palace. In front of them the Mentyr hen bartos, the guards of the palace formed a line just outside the doors of the main keep within the palace grounds and parted, a sign for them to enter.
He entered the palace along with Toyne and his 10 captains. As a squire to Toyne he had the right to enter along with Varys. Each of the captains alongside Toyne had their own squires, usually their sons, nephews, or footmen that showed potential.
As a poor Bravo from Pentos he never expected to see the inside of the palace. The marble floors were so well cleaned he could glean his reflection from them. The walls were decorated with rich Qohorik tapestries, paintings from Myr, and carved out statues representing various gods and mythical creatures from Valyrian mythology.
Within the palace were a mix guard, the personal unsullied slave soldiers of Adarys mixed with Mentyr hen bartos. It was these unsullied that were Adarys' personal guards, 500 men in total according to Varys. Finally, they approached his door, a Weirwood door decorated with amber and gems with the sigil of Tyrosh carved out in the middle. The unsullied in front of the door tapped his spear 3 times on the floor. "State your name and purpose." He asked in perfect Tyroshi.
"Captain general Myles Toyne of the Golden Company. Here to report to the Archon on our latest success."
The unsullied tapped the ground three times with his spear and turned to the door. "Announcing for Captain General Toyne!"
"Enter." A voice from the inside beckoned.
The unsullied opened the door and revealed a richly decorated room. Silk curtains from Yi-Ti covering the windows, direwolf pelts from beyond the wall, Weirwood furniture decorated with precious gems, at the center of it all sat Adarys' behind a Weirwood table with several chairs in front of it.
"Captain." He said in a heavily accented Westerosi. "Sit, sit, we have much to discuss."
"It would be a pleasure." The captains took to their seats one by one until they were all seated, he and the other squires stood behind their respective captains, he took a glance around the room, unsullied guards standing in front of every window.
"As you have heard Captain General, those Lysene dogs have agreed to a treaty with us. The Myrish have sent delegations as well, the foot of Essos shall be all Tyroshi." He grabbed a bell in front of him and rang it, around one minute later, almost a dozen of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen entered the room each of them save for one holding what seemed to be wine glasses and placing them front of each of the captains as well as Adarys. The last one carries what seemed to be one of the finest ciders Tyrosh had to offer. She poured the cider into the cups, filling each of them almost to the brim, with Adarys' cup being filled last.
Once they were filled the serving ladies took the cups, taking a small sip, savoring the cider then swallowing it. Another minute passed, then they all nodded in seeming approval. "all clear. A toast!" Adarys' yelled cheerfully. "To our victory!" he grabbed his glass, Toyne and the other captains grabbed their cups and took a drink at the same time as Adarys'. "To our victory!" They all yelled at once once they finished drinking.
"Now then, it's time for a more pressing matter." Adarys said as he leaned forward slightly. "As you are aware, many within the three old factions wish for my head, the reds, the, blues, and the greens. Especially the reds and greens. Even the Whites, those ungrateful freedmen, slaves and their families are dissatisfied, it truly shows why you should treat them firmly. Give an inch and they demand a mile. Only you, my precious Golds I can fully trust. Can I not? Have you not bought me victory while I lavished you with lands and honors?"
"Indeed," Captain general Toyne nodded. "But you must understand my Archon." He placed his hands on the table and leaned forward. "While we are grateful for all you've given us, our goal is not Tyrosh. But west."
"Yes, yes," he nodded, "a throne for your black dragon. But correct me if I am wrong. Hasn't the last of their line been wiped out? Maelys' ashes float in the wind, while his wife and her daughter lie in Westeros. With the young girl to marry the heir to the throne while his wife is now married to the Kings Hand am I wrong?"
"Unfortunately not." Toyne answered, there was anger in his voice. The mention of Maelys' wife and daughter bought him heavy displeasure, and was only spoken of in whispers. Even Varys seemed to tense up when that was mentioned.
"Then how will you ever get home? You have no potential usurper to attach yourself to. Do tell me, how many of you have even seen your so called home? Aren't most of you captains the sons or grandsons or exiles? Some of you aren't even from Westeros." He glanced at Jhoquo Xa, a summer islander and the captain of the longbowmen, archers, and crossbowmen.
"When did we say we didn't have a usurper to attach ourselves to?" Toyne rebutted him.
"Then where is this so called usurper?" Adarys looked around the room, seemingly mocking them. "I see only Westerosi, Essosi and summer Islanders in this room. No one of Valyrian heritage."
"In this room with us." Toyne glanced back, seemingly looking at Varys, he stepped forward stood besides Toyne.
He's a Blackfyre?! This wasn't what he expected. Varys told him he was Toyne's nephew, fathered by his late father and a Tyroshi woman. Then again, a secret like that was better kept to himself.
He spoke in a near perfect high Valyrian, with a slight Volantene accent. "My name is Viserys of House Blackfyre. My father was Daemon Blackfyre, murdered by your colleague in the band of 9, Maelys Blackfyre. I was sold off to a mummers troupe by him but was rescued by the Golden company. As my captain and hand of the king has told you. Westeros is our target." It was as if someone turned on a candle inside him, the friendly and cheerful boy who saved him suddenly turned into a regal prince.
"You can call yourself a Blackfyre all you want. Even if you do, your mother and sister are in the red dragons grasp. Tell me boy, do you truly mean to kill your mother and sister." Adarys was unfazed by this, seemingly viewing it as another amusement.
"Time passes, people die, one day my mother and sister will pass on and become dust on the earth. As will I. But my children and their children, they will yearn for the west." He put his own hand on the table. "Which is why we have a proposal for you," he turned to Toyne and he nodded.
"Your oldest daughter, marrying our King here. Once you pass, Viserys will become King of this fine city."
"Are you mad?!" Adarys nearly screamed as he switched to Westerosi. "Tyrosh has been ruled by tyrants, religious zealots and even dragonlord. But we have never had a king, the last archon that tried it didn't live for a full year until he was murdered.
"Who says you'll be king?" Toyne asked as he smiled smugly. "You can sit back and enjoy your position as archon for the rest of your life while we watch out for you. Once you pass on, our King here will become King, his oldest will sail to Westeros under the banner of the Blackfyre's, while his younger children will stay here, ruling as Kings of Tyrosh or Archon's, makes no difference to me what they call themselves really."
"And if I refuse these terms?"
"Can you really my Archon?" Toyne leaned forward the table and chuckled. "The Reds from the nobility currently want your head upon a spike for all the proscriptions and purges you've launched on them. The Otherys especially cry out for vengeance from their exile in Volantis. That's not your only concern though right? You may have been born into a blues family, but various merchant and banking families are very upset that you've allowed the freedmen and slaves form their own official faction in the chariot races aren't they?"
"All because of you, you Westerosi claim you hate slavery yet your smallfolk here on Essos and Westeros are no better than them. If it wasn't for the fact that I need your military aid I wouldn't have given them an inch."
"Which brings us to the next point, the guilds also want you dead. Your favoring of the blues has only made them more inflamed."
"Only because I need to placate them thanks to the damn whites."
"We cannot be seen as supporting slavery archon you know that as well as I do. If we did we'd never be welcomed in Westeros. But haven't we won you victories and land thanks to them and us? The freedmen fight as hard if not even harder than most Tyroshi. And our ranks have only swelled thanks to them."
"Your point being?"
"Refuse our offer and we shall not renew our contract with you. We will of course part with the territory you gracefully granted us. We will not join the Myrish or Lysene per the terms of our exit contract, Volantis, Qohor, Norvos, Braavos. There's plenty of war to be had on Essos. But tell me, how long would you last without us? All 3 of the old factions want you dead, the slaves and freemen yearn for more after getting a taste of freedom from us, and only we can keep them all in line while keeping the Myrish and Lysene out, and given how fractious Essosi politics are, I'm very sure they'll break the treaties we won for you and push you back to the shores of Essos."
Adarys' sank back on his seat, his face turning white as a sheet.
"We are not asking you to give up power, not to give us any more than what we agreed to. Only the bindings of marriage to our king. Your blood shall rule Tyrosh even after you pass, and we shall have a base to build up our power for the next generation or 2. It's as you merchants call it, a mutually beneficial agreement."
"You leave me no choice then." Adarys nodded weakly as he glanced at Viserys. "I shall introduce my daughter to you my prince. She is still a young girl of 2, once she has had her first moons blood you shall marry her."
"I'm glad we could come to this agreement, father." Viserys spoke in High Valyrian and stretched out his hand. "In Westeros we shake hands to show our agreement. And of course I shall have Toyne draw up a contact."
"Of course." Adarys shook his hand as well.
Viserys walked back behind Toyne's spot and turned to him. "I'm sorry for deceiving you like this Mopatis." He seemed rather ashamed to speak to him. "Would you like to play some dice with the other squires later?"
"I don't see why not." He shrugged.
Mentyr hen lyks = Soldiers of the peace, slave soldiers meant to enforce the law within Tyrosh. Used as soldiers to defend Tyrosh as a last resort.
Mentyr hen bartos = Soldiers of the head, slave soldiers meant to guard the archon's palace and his family
Arlie Azantys = New Soldiers, basically the High Valyrian translation for Janissaries. The main defence force for Tyrosh, meant to repel any invaders who would threaten he city of Tyrosh Proper.
Tegon Irudy = Land Gift, land grants based on the Pronoiar system of the Eastern Roman Empire in the 11th-15th century
He grabbed the wine pouch he placed on his left side, trying to take a sip from it. The last drop of Tyroshi cider was like sweet honey for his mouth. I should have packed more. He threw the pouch as far away from where he laid, seeing it land on a nearby dead horse.
Moving was impossible, the dead body he was laying on was too comfortable to stand up from. And he was too out of energy after fighting for his life all through the morning. Maybe at night once the damn sun is out. He closed his eyes, snoozing a little until he heard the sound of hooves.
He glanced over to his left in their direction, going stiff but putting his hand near his sword. He saw the horses approach, realizing they were wearing the gold of the Golden company. "Hey," he called out. But his voice was hoarse. He tried to stand, only for him to fall to the ground after rolling over and trying to crawl backwards, falling face first into the dusty ground of the disputed lands.
He rolled over, being face up again and hacked up the dust he'd swallowed. The hooves stopped, and he heard footsteps approach him. A boy's head blocked out the sun, he had short blue hair, with dark purple eyes that almost seemed blue. He knelt down and gave him a hand. "Can you walk?" He asked in what sounded like Westerosi. Must be the son of one of those exile summer knights.
"I no speak Westerosi." He said in his best Tyroshi. They were similar enough to receive and to give orders. But he needed to brush up on it if he wanted to serve for long.
"Where are you from?" The boy asked in Tyroshi.
"Pentos."
"You're far from home." He laughed as he pulled him up. "Can you walk?"
"Barely."
"It's alright, I'll help you get back to camp. What's your name?"
"Illyrio." He tried to take a step, but he almost collapsed, the boy saving him from falling at the last moment.
"Illyrio huh?" He stopped and pondered for a moment. "It's a common name isn't it? I know a few Illyrio's in camp. Do you have a family name?"
"Mopatis."
He smiled and seemingly nodded in approval, "Mopatis is a good name. It gives a good impression, like a gentle wind that blows through these grasslands then joins it's fellow winds in the sea to create a storm." He seemed self satisfied at his snobbish statement. "From now on I'll call you Mopatis."
"What are y-"
"If it wasn't for me you'd probably have died out there. It seems fate destined for us to be friends." He smiled at him then looked ahead. "Captain-General Toyne!" He yelled in Westerosi, not understanding what they said to each other afterwards.
He knows the captain general?!
"Varys, who is that with you?"
"His name is Illyrio Mopatis, we just became friends. He even has the sigil of our company, see?" He pointed at the sigil on his chest.
"Any other survivors?"
"Not as far as I can tell." He shook his head.
"Get the boy on your horse, we're moving back to base camp."
"Yes sir!"
They walked a few more steps and reached his horse, a brown mustang. He helped him onto the horse first, then he mounted the horse. "We'll get back to our base shortly. It's nice to meet you Mopatis."
--
Illyrio, 6 months later
Illyrio descended from the Golden Company's flagship Jadefyre onto the port of Tyrosh behind Varys and Captain General Toyne. The Bleeding Tower loomed over him, leaving a massive shadow over part of the harbor. "It's your first time in the city proper right Mopatis?" Varys spoke in Westerosi and turned to him as he pointed out the various landmarks. His Westerosi had improved thanks to Varys teaching him, and he was grateful to him for it. But Varys was a strange boy, he was only 14, 3 years younger than he was, yet he was tall as he was despite that. One moment he could be the most mature person in the room, yet the next he would act like a child. For one, he had a bad habit of making puns out of every little thing he saw.
The harbor itself was a bustle of activity, he spotted ships from all the major free cities. Varys pointed out the various flags and sigils on the ships, "there's a cog from Braavos over there, and a dromond from Volantis." He would point out, he was surprising knowledgeable about them. Probably not his first time here, he reckoned to himself. There were also ships from other corners of the world according to Varys. He spotted some from Westeros, they generally bore the sigil of the various noble houses, Velaryon, Celtigar, Redwyne, and Hightower being the most prominent ones, though he did see a few with the Targaryen sigil, which made Varys very uncomfortable when he saw them to his amusement.
They weren't the only ships there as well, there were more from Ibben, Ghis, Mereen, Qarth, Yi-Ti, even one with the ominous sigil of Asshai. The majority of ships however were occupied by the Tyroshi fleets. Some were affiliated with the city of Tyrosh themselves, used to defend from pirates based out of the Stepstones as well as the rival free cities. Others were owned by the various merchant guilds, craftsmen, as well as the nobility, and finally there were the ships of the Golden Company.
According to Varys, they had only recently made their foray into building a fleet once they captured several port cities on the southern coast of the disputed lands from the Lysene. As Tyrosh's main army on the disputed lands in all but name, they had focused primarily on fending off Lysene as well as Myrish incursions. But as Adarys remained in power far longer than an Archon normally did, opposition within the city grew and the Tyrant of Tyrosh began to lean even more on them, using them to put down uprisings within the city and the mainland. In return for this, the Archon began granting them lands captured from the Lysene and Myrish in lieu of payment, the so called Tegon Irudy or land gifts. "Toyne has a large estate near the coast of Tyrosh." He once said as they were marching back to the main port where their fleet was based in just off the coast of Tyrosh in the mainland. "It stretches as far as the eye can see and produces the sweetest ciders I've drank." He offered him a pouch back then, to his credit it was the sweetest cider he tasted.
This granting of lands meant an influx of wealth for the company. And for the first time they were able to commission ships for themselves rather than rely on sell-sails and the Tyroshi fleet to transport them from the mainland to the city proper and vice versa. Their burgeoning fleet was small, compared to the 500 fighting ready Tyroshi ships, they only had 100. But it would grow in time according to Varys, and it was just enough to ferry a significant amount of the company to the main island to repress any uprisings or assist the main Tyroshi fleet in repelling the other rival cities.
The last of the ports ships and the shadow of the Bleeding Tower slowly went out of his sight as he marched on, making his way out of the docks right behind Varys and Toyne and towards the walls of Tyrosh proper. Above them, on top of the walls of the city and around the docks and harbor, the Arlie Azantys, the slave soldiers dedicated to defending Tyrosh's Walls and shores from external invaders eyed them suspiciously. "Keep this in mind the fact we can walk in as is means really privileged in Tyrosh Mopatis." Varys whispered to him as they approached the walls. "Few are allowed the privilege of holding weapons within Tyrosh proper, the honor is reserved only for the scions of the major noble families, guild leaders, merchant princes and their private militias."
"I assume we can because we're Adarys' men right?"
"Yup." Varys smiled and nodded. They were of the Golden Company, the bitter steel fist of the Tyrant as their enemies called them, having won land for Tyrosh in the disputed lands, and being granted Tegon Irudy on the mainland. Even he, a lowly footman of only six and ten years within the company now had half an acre with 10 farmers and a foreman to work his land after the latest campaign. Though he was forced to free them, "No one in the Golden Company may own a slave." Captain General Toyne lectured them as he parceled out the lands granted to them by the Tyrant. However, their Westerosi model of managing their so called smallfolk in Westeros was barely any different than owning slaves to him so he paid it no mind when he freed his slaves, keeping them under his service and paying them a small wage to work his new land.
They passed under the city walls and, left the suspicious eyes of the Arlie Azantys, entering the friendlier domain of the Mentyr hen lyks, the city watch of Tyrosh. Like the Arlie Azantys they were also slave soldiers, dedicated to maintaining internal order within Tyrosh. In normal times they were enough to maintain order. But with the nobility along with sections of the guilds and mercantile factions heavily opposed to Adarys they were finding themselves increasingly pressed, with strikes and attacks becoming a weekly occurrence. This wasn't even taking into account the previous uprisings led by elements of all 3 factions. Having been brutally put down by the Golden Company and the Mentyri only a few months ago. "Don't get separated here Mopatis." Varys whispered as they marched in the city. "Some of our men have disappeared within the city, even the brothels aren't safe these days if you're into that." He chuckled at him as he turned his head from him in embarrassment.
Varys was right though, he felt unsafe marching here, even while marching down the streets alongside 1000 heavily armed soldiers. He felt as if he were being watched, the merchants, guild leaders, and nobles along with their private militias and hired sellswords wanting for any opportunity to strike them down.
As they entered the grounds of the Archons palace he felt relief. It was one of the few places in the city where no private militias were allowed without the Archons leave. The fact they stood here represented how much trust the Archon had in them. They formed a perfect square just outside the entrance of the main palace. In front of them the Mentyr hen bartos, the guards of the palace formed a line just outside the doors of the main keep within the palace grounds and parted, a sign for them to enter.
He entered the palace along with Toyne and his 10 captains. As a squire to Toyne he had the right to enter along with Varys. Each of the captains alongside Toyne had their own squires, usually their sons, nephews, or footmen that showed potential.
As a poor Bravo from Pentos he never expected to see the inside of the palace. The marble floors were so well cleaned he could glean his reflection from them. The walls were decorated with rich Qohorik tapestries, paintings from Myr, and carved out statues representing various gods and mythical creatures from Valyrian mythology.
Within the palace were a mix guard, the personal unsullied slave soldiers of Adarys mixed with Mentyr hen bartos. It was these unsullied that were Adarys' personal guards, 500 men in total according to Varys. Finally, they approached his door, a Weirwood door decorated with amber and gems with the sigil of Tyrosh carved out in the middle. The unsullied in front of the door tapped his spear 3 times on the floor. "State your name and purpose." He asked in perfect Tyroshi.
"Captain general Myles Toyne of the Golden Company. Here to report to the Archon on our latest success."
The unsullied tapped the ground three times with his spear and turned to the door. "Announcing for Captain General Toyne!"
"Enter." A voice from the inside beckoned.
The unsullied opened the door and revealed a richly decorated room. Silk curtains from Yi-Ti covering the windows, direwolf pelts from beyond the wall, Weirwood furniture decorated with precious gems, at the center of it all sat Adarys' behind a Weirwood table with several chairs in front of it.
"Captain." He said in a heavily accented Westerosi. "Sit, sit, we have much to discuss."
"It would be a pleasure." The captains took to their seats one by one until they were all seated, he and the other squires stood behind their respective captains, he took a glance around the room, unsullied guards standing in front of every window.
"As you have heard Captain General, those Lysene dogs have agreed to a treaty with us. The Myrish have sent delegations as well, the foot of Essos shall be all Tyroshi." He grabbed a bell in front of him and rang it, around one minute later, almost a dozen of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen entered the room each of them save for one holding what seemed to be wine glasses and placing them front of each of the captains as well as Adarys. The last one carries what seemed to be one of the finest ciders Tyrosh had to offer. She poured the cider into the cups, filling each of them almost to the brim, with Adarys' cup being filled last.
Once they were filled the serving ladies took the cups, taking a small sip, savoring the cider then swallowing it. Another minute passed, then they all nodded in seeming approval. "all clear. A toast!" Adarys' yelled cheerfully. "To our victory!" he grabbed his glass, Toyne and the other captains grabbed their cups and took a drink at the same time as Adarys'. "To our victory!" They all yelled at once once they finished drinking.
"Now then, it's time for a more pressing matter." Adarys said as he leaned forward slightly. "As you are aware, many within the three old factions wish for my head, the reds, the, blues, and the greens. Especially the reds and greens. Even the Whites, those ungrateful freedmen, slaves and their families are dissatisfied, it truly shows why you should treat them firmly. Give an inch and they demand a mile. Only you, my precious Golds I can fully trust. Can I not? Have you not bought me victory while I lavished you with lands and honors?"
"Indeed," Captain general Toyne nodded. "But you must understand my Archon." He placed his hands on the table and leaned forward. "While we are grateful for all you've given us, our goal is not Tyrosh. But west."
"Yes, yes," he nodded, "a throne for your black dragon. But correct me if I am wrong. Hasn't the last of their line been wiped out? Maelys' ashes float in the wind, while his wife and her daughter lie in Westeros. With the young girl to marry the heir to the throne while his wife is now married to the Kings Hand am I wrong?"
"Unfortunately not." Toyne answered, there was anger in his voice. The mention of Maelys' wife and daughter bought him heavy displeasure, and was only spoken of in whispers. Even Varys seemed to tense up when that was mentioned.
"Then how will you ever get home? You have no potential usurper to attach yourself to. Do tell me, how many of you have even seen your so called home? Aren't most of you captains the sons or grandsons or exiles? Some of you aren't even from Westeros." He glanced at Jhoquo Xa, a summer islander and the captain of the longbowmen, archers, and crossbowmen.
"When did we say we didn't have a usurper to attach ourselves to?" Toyne rebutted him.
"Then where is this so called usurper?" Adarys looked around the room, seemingly mocking them. "I see only Westerosi, Essosi and summer Islanders in this room. No one of Valyrian heritage."
"In this room with us." Toyne glanced back, seemingly looking at Varys, he stepped forward stood besides Toyne.
He's a Blackfyre?! This wasn't what he expected. Varys told him he was Toyne's nephew, fathered by his late father and a Tyroshi woman. Then again, a secret like that was better kept to himself.
He spoke in a near perfect high Valyrian, with a slight Volantene accent. "My name is Viserys of House Blackfyre. My father was Daemon Blackfyre, murdered by your colleague in the band of 9, Maelys Blackfyre. I was sold off to a mummers troupe by him but was rescued by the Golden company. As my captain and hand of the king has told you. Westeros is our target." It was as if someone turned on a candle inside him, the friendly and cheerful boy who saved him suddenly turned into a regal prince.
"You can call yourself a Blackfyre all you want. Even if you do, your mother and sister are in the red dragons grasp. Tell me boy, do you truly mean to kill your mother and sister." Adarys was unfazed by this, seemingly viewing it as another amusement.
"Time passes, people die, one day my mother and sister will pass on and become dust on the earth. As will I. But my children and their children, they will yearn for the west." He put his own hand on the table. "Which is why we have a proposal for you," he turned to Toyne and he nodded.
"Your oldest daughter, marrying our King here. Once you pass, Viserys will become King of this fine city."
"Are you mad?!" Adarys nearly screamed as he switched to Westerosi. "Tyrosh has been ruled by tyrants, religious zealots and even dragonlord. But we have never had a king, the last archon that tried it didn't live for a full year until he was murdered.
"Who says you'll be king?" Toyne asked as he smiled smugly. "You can sit back and enjoy your position as archon for the rest of your life while we watch out for you. Once you pass on, our King here will become King, his oldest will sail to Westeros under the banner of the Blackfyre's, while his younger children will stay here, ruling as Kings of Tyrosh or Archon's, makes no difference to me what they call themselves really."
"And if I refuse these terms?"
"Can you really my Archon?" Toyne leaned forward the table and chuckled. "The Reds from the nobility currently want your head upon a spike for all the proscriptions and purges you've launched on them. The Otherys especially cry out for vengeance from their exile in Volantis. That's not your only concern though right? You may have been born into a blues family, but various merchant and banking families are very upset that you've allowed the freedmen and slaves form their own official faction in the chariot races aren't they?"
"All because of you, you Westerosi claim you hate slavery yet your smallfolk here on Essos and Westeros are no better than them. If it wasn't for the fact that I need your military aid I wouldn't have given them an inch."
"Which brings us to the next point, the guilds also want you dead. Your favoring of the blues has only made them more inflamed."
"Only because I need to placate them thanks to the damn whites."
"We cannot be seen as supporting slavery archon you know that as well as I do. If we did we'd never be welcomed in Westeros. But haven't we won you victories and land thanks to them and us? The freedmen fight as hard if not even harder than most Tyroshi. And our ranks have only swelled thanks to them."
"Your point being?"
"Refuse our offer and we shall not renew our contract with you. We will of course part with the territory you gracefully granted us. We will not join the Myrish or Lysene per the terms of our exit contract, Volantis, Qohor, Norvos, Braavos. There's plenty of war to be had on Essos. But tell me, how long would you last without us? All 3 of the old factions want you dead, the slaves and freemen yearn for more after getting a taste of freedom from us, and only we can keep them all in line while keeping the Myrish and Lysene out, and given how fractious Essosi politics are, I'm very sure they'll break the treaties we won for you and push you back to the shores of Essos."
Adarys' sank back on his seat, his face turning white as a sheet.
"We are not asking you to give up power, not to give us any more than what we agreed to. Only the bindings of marriage to our king. Your blood shall rule Tyrosh even after you pass, and we shall have a base to build up our power for the next generation or 2. It's as you merchants call it, a mutually beneficial agreement."
"You leave me no choice then." Adarys nodded weakly as he glanced at Viserys. "I shall introduce my daughter to you my prince. She is still a young girl of 2, once she has had her first moons blood you shall marry her."
"I'm glad we could come to this agreement, father." Viserys spoke in High Valyrian and stretched out his hand. "In Westeros we shake hands to show our agreement. And of course I shall have Toyne draw up a contact."
"Of course." Adarys shook his hand as well.
Viserys walked back behind Toyne's spot and turned to him. "I'm sorry for deceiving you like this Mopatis." He seemed rather ashamed to speak to him. "Would you like to play some dice with the other squires later?"
"I don't see why not." He shrugged.
Mentyr hen lyks = Soldiers of the peace, slave soldiers meant to enforce the law within Tyrosh. Used as soldiers to defend Tyrosh as a last resort.
Mentyr hen bartos = Soldiers of the head, slave soldiers meant to guard the archon's palace and his family
Arlie Azantys = New Soldiers, basically the High Valyrian translation for Janissaries. The main defence force for Tyrosh, meant to repel any invaders who would threaten he city of Tyrosh Proper.
Tegon Irudy = Land Gift, land grants based on the Pronoiar system of the Eastern Roman Empire in the 11th-15th century
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The Tyrant of Tyrosh
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Alenco98
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Alequo Adarys watched his servant sip his cider. After waiting for a minute and seeing no symptoms from his servant he took the glass from his hand and drank it, placing it down on his cupholder. It was the only thing that could get the edge off, especially right now, he hated going to chariot races. Chariot Racing was the worst thing about being archon. Supporters of every fraction of the city were gathered in one place, and each faction had a team they backed. Even worse was the fact he had to share a viewing box with the faction leaders.
Tyrosh used to consist of three factions, but after he took over the city those three factions turned into five. There were the Reds, the team of the Aristocracy who could trace their bloodlines to the freehold of old. The blues, representing the traders, merchants, and the Ship captains of the Tyroshi Navy. The greens representing the artisans and master craftsmen of the three main industries of the city, Dyemakers, armorers and brewers. The former three were the old guard, the three original factions of the city before he took over. And all three of them wanted his head on a spike to one extent or another.
Then there were the new guard, the factions that had formed after he took over the city. They consisted of the golds, representing the Golden company, the band of exiles responsible for his takeover of the city a little over a decade ago. And finally, there were the whites, they were the newest of the factions, representing the former slaves of the city as well as the slaves of higher status such as the Mentyr hen lyks, Mentyr hen bartos, the Arlie Azantys as well as the various other slaves his government employed as scribes, tax collectors, customs workers and bureaucrats that kept this city, his city running.
Besides him to his left sat his wife, Taena Celeys. The Celeys family was one of the few families within the reds that backed him. She was a lovely woman, her dyed scarlet red hair adding to her comely looks. More than that he owed his life to her and her family, as they were the ones who laid bare the plot of the Otherys family, his first wife's family to poison him.
For that the Celeys family, a declining family on the brink of ruins was raised up. They were showered with half the wealth of the Otherys along with the other 5 families that schemed with them. The members of those 6 families along with their relatives were all put to the sword, their remaining wealth confiscated by him, and Maegor Celeys, his father in law and head of the Celeys family who sat to his wife's left became the head of the reds.
He still recalled that day with glee, when he led the Golden Company along with the Mentyr hen lyks into the black walls of the inner City. The private militias of the reds were disarmed or swept aside by his men's steel tide, and every red family was marched to the main square of the inner City, then forced to watch as the Otherys and their fellow travelers were beheaded one by one. It was a glorious day, but it was the day when Tyrosh became swept in its current wave of unrest. "Would you like another drink my love?" He inquired to his wife as he gestured to her empty glass.
"Of course." She smiled as he turned and bid one of his slaves to come over with a drink. She took the drink, handing it over to a nearby food taster, a woman of dothraki descent. The taster took a small sip, once the recommended one minute passed she handed the goblet back to her and she took a drink from it. He didn't love his wife he admitted, but he found her comely, and their family useful.
The reds may want his head on a spike, but they were in a short leash for now thanks to the Celeys. But if he pulled the leash too much he wouldn't be able to contain them. The inner City was the red's sanctuary, and the Celeys had been forced to move their manse to one next to the gates that led from the inner city to the outer one, that manse was currently guarded by a mix of their personal militia, members of the Golden Company and a century of unsullied he lent out to them. He considered it a small miracle if a day passed without any reports of his guards there being attacked or pelted by rocks.
He couldn't kill them all for now. He dreamt every night that he'd gather them all within the palace of the Archon to feast with them, then as dinner started, have the Arlie Azantys, and the Golden Company march in and put them all to the sword, not just the men, but the women and the children too.
But that was only a dream, he could certainly order the elimination of the reds, but that would come with too steep of a price. Many within that faction had family and interests outside the city, sponsoring trading missions within the other free cities as well as having marriage links within them. That wasn't even taking into account the substantial holdings they owned in the mainland within the disputed lands as well as the private slave militias each family held.
He had granted Tegon Irudy to the Golden Company along the borderlands where their holdings bordered with the holdings of Lys and Myr to counteract this. But if all out war broke out with the aristocracy, they would certainly call in Myr as well as Lys treaties be damned, then they would set the mainland aflame by the time they put them down in the city. No, he certainly couldn't for now.
A cheer emerged from the crowds, as the chariot of the blues passed the reds and took first place. He glanced at the stands where the blues and reds sat and watched as some of the reds threw their half eaten food towards the blues. The blues in the stands then stood up, running over to the reds and fighting hand to hand.
Rhaegar Mentys, head of the Mentyr hen lyks assigned to keep the peace in the stadium walked up behind his chair and whispered in his ears. "Archon, should we step in?"
"Immediately," he replied sternly.
Violence was officially prohibited in the High Hippodrome within Tyrosh, no one save for the Mentyr hen lyks could bear arms inside. Even the Golden company who he lavished with honors had to abide by that rule. However, that rule limited itself to only weapons, if a red or anyone not from your faction insulted you, you had the right to fight back so long as you used your body. He had encouraged this intra faction violence in the last few years, better for the factions to beat each other to death than to turn their spears on him. Rhaegar went to the door where he whispered some words to one of the other Mentyri and he returned back to his position right behind him.
A minute passed, a horn was sounded and the Mentyri emerged from within the stadium, breaking up the squabbling reds and blues and dragging them back to their spots.
He glanced over to his right at his cousin and head of the blues, Saenar Adarys who glanced over at him, mouthing 'thank you' and nodding his head in approval.
The blues were another headache of their own, as the team of the merchants and the banks of Tyrosh, they could either ensure his Treasury was overflowing or push him to the brink of bankruptcy. More than that however, they were close to his heart. He was born as a member of a Blues family, having risen up to head his own merchant guild until he was caught up in a power struggle and was sent to exile.
It was thanks to the Blues within the city that the gates of Tyrosh were opened up and given over to the Band of 9. He had granted them concessions, giving the trading towns founded by then on the mainland tax breaks, subsidies of their expeditions to the East, as well as their banks. But they wanted more, they wanted control over monetary policy, control over the minting of coins. It was too much for them to ask, and now they were at an impasse. While they didn't all want his head on a spike unlike the reds, the fact that there a vocal minority against him within his own native faction that conspired with the reds chilled him to his bone. He wanted to feed the blues, but he couldn't feed them too much lest they bleed him dry and attract the ires of the other factions. And if he didn't feed them too much as he did right now they would raise hell.
As the fighting died down, he spotted some greens standing up from their seats and shout anti blue slogans. It wasn't a minute before another scuffle broke out with the blues. Just like clockwork, the Mentyri swept in after a minute and quickly separated them, using the blunt end of their swords to end the violence. One of the members of the greens apparently fell on the stairs and cracked his skull open. He wanted to laugh at the poor bastard, but with the greens hating him almost as much as the reds did he held his tongue. He glanced at Daario Rhaenyr, the leader of the greens faction who sat to the right of his cousin and was scowling at him, then to another nearby slave of his, a summer islander and gestured for him to come over. "Yes master?" He asked in Tyroshi with a heavy summer islander accent.
"Inquire with the family of the fallen man in the greens section. Have the man's medical treatment paid for and provide them a healer along with extra compensation."
"Yes archon." He bowed.
"And one more thing?"
"Yes?"
"Work on your damn accent, you make me embarrassed to be Tyroshi."
"I....will try...to do...so." He spoke slowly, trying to speak as perfectly as possible.
"Just go." He waved him away and he left the viewing chamber. He glanced back at Daario, whose scowl seemingly lessened as he nodded in approval then leaned back on his chair.
He always hated dealing with the greens even before his exile, they were all a bunch of reeds in the winds. While the Reds were heavily opposed to his rule and the Blues were mostly supportive, the Greens were in the middle of it all. As the team sponsored by manufacturers of Tyrosh's main exports of Dyes, armors, and various alcoholic beverages they were considered the bedrock of Myr. Their interests were intertwined with the 2 main factions, on the one hand they procured the raw materials which they needed to manufacture their goods from lands owned by the Nobility. While on the other hand they needed the various merchant and banking guilds to both help them export their products at reasonable rates and to help drive domestic and foreign investments into their enterprises.
As such they were in a simultaneously symbiotic and competitive relationship with both the nobility and the merchant guilds. If he leaned too heavily in favor of the Merchants and bankers, the guilds would band with the nobility and sweep him out. If he leaned too heavily towards the nobility, he would lose his primary support base among the Merchants and he would be dead within a moon.
He glanced over at the plate of grapes to his left between him and his wife. Grabbing a few grapes and eating them, allowing the flavor to fester in his mouth for a moment. A moment later he heard the clanging of metal and footsteps. Late as always, he sighed as he heard the footsteps get closer.
"Greetings archon," Captain General Myles Toyne spoke in Westerosi as he entered the room, his squire Viserys standing right besides him, both were wearing plate armor with the golden tabard of their company. In normal times, it would be considered a rare honor for a foreigner to share the viewing chamber of the Archon during a chariot races. But these were not normal times.
"Greetings to you as well captain-general. Please, take a seat." He bid him to sit in his own native Tyroshi, one of the few ways he could assert his control over them. Myles took a seat at his assigned spot, right besides Daario to his right. Viserys, the boy king he served sat on a fine ebony chair right behind Myles.
To wear armor in the stadium was considered a social faux pas. It implied that you viewed everyone else as your enemy and that you were ready to challenge them. He glanced at the section of the yellows, all of them wore some sort of armor, boiled leather, chainmail, even some plate.
He had taken in the Golden company after Maelys' defeat. At first he used them only to fend off the Lysene and Myrish, sending them to take minor settlements and villages within the disputed lands. He didn't think much of them, a band of exiles and outlaws from the savage west with no home to return to.
What he didn't expect was their resiliency. Toyne's men won battle after battle, fighting with a savagery and rage that drove both Myrish and Lysene back. In the year after he hired them, Toyne renegotiated their contract, offering to conquer more of the disputed lands in return for being granted holdings as so called lords in their lands. He felt as if he struck gold back then, the Golden company as his vassal, conquering the disputed lands for him.
He signed that deal immediately, Toyne and his men got to work. They parceled the land between themselves, the slaves in their land were freed, being treated as their smallfolk in Westeros were. He never really saw the difference and he paid it no mind. Within 7 years, they numbered their original 10 thousand standing men under arms, and this wasn't including the tens of thousands of levies they could raise from their lands. But at the same time, the city began to turn on him.
The reds became restive, upset by his purges and by the fact the Golds were freeing the slaves in their lands he'd granted them. The greens and the blues had the same complaints. "They're endangering the natural order of things!" They clamored. "My slaves are running away to their lands!" He tried comprising, he'd gotten the golds to agree to compensate the old guard for any slaves that got to their lands, but they refused to give them back. "It's awkward enough to do business with slavers." Toyne told him once. "But if we're caught giving slavers back their slaves Westeros would never welcome us back even if we paid every smallfolk and lord a million gold dragons."
That agreement between them had stemmed the brewing all out war between the Golden company and the old guard. He considered it his finest hour. That was until the Otherys incident occured. It was the Golden company who made contact with the Celeys, their eldest son and his brother in law having served there and having gained wealth, and it was the Celeys that saved him from poison.
Once the heads started rolling however, there was no going back. The threat of the Golden company kept the others in line and he knew that, perhaps in the beggining of it all, had the three factions banded together they could have thrown him and the Golden company off their backs. But it was too late now that the Whites had appeared, the balance of power was now even.
He glanced over at the farthest seat to his left. Aereo the head of the whites, his family had owned him since he was a baby. Thanks to them being the same age, Aereo was assigned to him by his parents as his personal attendant and whipping boy. He trusted Aereo with his life, trusting him even more than some of his own family and friends. He'd found him a comely wife, a Westerosi maiden from one of the many pillow houses of Lys and freed him, along with his wife and their children.
Aereo wasn't just the head of the whites. He was his poison maker, ever since his first wife's attempt at poisoning him he'd grown paranoid. As such he began to drink poison regularly to immunize himself from it, taking inspiration from the old Valyrian tale of Maegor Aetapor, a dragonlord who immunized himself from poisons by ingesting them until he was fully immune.
Aereo was one of the first Whites, the slaves and former slaves who helped keep Tyrosh running. Slaves outnumbered freedmen by three to one, it wasn't limited to men and women in chains forced to toil endlessly in the mines, farms and construction sites in manual menial labor or being forced to debase their bodies in brothels. While many slaves suffered under these conditions, slavery was far more complex than the Westerosi under his service thought. For example, some were only temporarily enslaved, being forced to pay their debts in unpaid labor and services like the so-called smallfolk in Westeros.
While the former were slaves who would be in the bottom rung of Tyroshi society. There were those like the Arlie Azantys, Mentyr hen lyks and Mentyr hen Bartos who rose high as well. Many of these slaves were slaves in name only like Aereo once was, they rose to high positions within their masters households and serving as the Westerosi equivalent to their Castellan.
His relationship with Aero wasn't even unique to Tyrosh or the Free cities as a whole save for Braavos. Many within the Reds had slaves who rose high as Aereo had, they commanded their masters private slave militias and their mainland estates while their masters lived in the city.
It was the same among the Greens and Blues, their slaves serving as craftsmen, accountants, ship captains, teachers, clerks, healers, nurses, and wetmothers. Within the Tyroshi government many slaves also served as tax collectors, Bureaucrats, civil servants and law enforcement. They were trusted to do this due to their perceived impartiality, with them serving all factions within their roles.
But then the Westerosi came in, now that some of the slaves had that taste of freedom they wanted more. In the mines and in the fields, where the lowest of the slaves toiled there were whispers. "The sunset-landers will bring freedom." They said. "Their gods will strike the slavers down."
Their gods, Adarys felt a headache come on as he thought about their gods. Westerosi mostly followed their faith of the 7, and one of the main tenets was their hatred of slavery. Even the few Westerosi who didn't follow the seven had a distaste for it. The local faiths in Essos on the other hand such the Trios, the Lord of light, and the weeping lady of Lys either tolerated it or mandated that the slaves obey the master.
Many of the freed slaves now followed the 7, with many of them carving the 7 pointed star on their foreheads as the so called faith militant of old Westeros before the dragons bought them to heel. The enslaved in the meantime were forbidden from worshipping the seven by their masters, with some even executing any slaves caught with a copy of the seven pointed star, which had been recently translated into Tyroshi. There were even reports of Septons going to Tyrosh and preaching in the streets.
While he couldn't kill them, lest he offend the whites and the golds. He could still expel them. He built a few septs in Tyrosh proper, primarily near the port and requested Septons directly from Kings Landing. Their sermons were supervised by the Arlie Azantys, making sure that they didn't sow religious discord. But even know many in the Arlie Azantys were converting as well.
He took a look inside his viewing box, watching each of the faction leaders, then at the stadium as a whole. He then glanced at another of his slaves and beckoned for him to come. "Yes master?"
"Tell Aero and Myles to meet with me tonight, be discrete about it." He whispered as low as he could. The slave nodded and returned to his spot.
Note: Feel free to comment all you want, any feedback is appreciated and they give me the dopamine rush needed to keep cooking.
Tyrosh used to consist of three factions, but after he took over the city those three factions turned into five. There were the Reds, the team of the Aristocracy who could trace their bloodlines to the freehold of old. The blues, representing the traders, merchants, and the Ship captains of the Tyroshi Navy. The greens representing the artisans and master craftsmen of the three main industries of the city, Dyemakers, armorers and brewers. The former three were the old guard, the three original factions of the city before he took over. And all three of them wanted his head on a spike to one extent or another.
Then there were the new guard, the factions that had formed after he took over the city. They consisted of the golds, representing the Golden company, the band of exiles responsible for his takeover of the city a little over a decade ago. And finally, there were the whites, they were the newest of the factions, representing the former slaves of the city as well as the slaves of higher status such as the Mentyr hen lyks, Mentyr hen bartos, the Arlie Azantys as well as the various other slaves his government employed as scribes, tax collectors, customs workers and bureaucrats that kept this city, his city running.
Besides him to his left sat his wife, Taena Celeys. The Celeys family was one of the few families within the reds that backed him. She was a lovely woman, her dyed scarlet red hair adding to her comely looks. More than that he owed his life to her and her family, as they were the ones who laid bare the plot of the Otherys family, his first wife's family to poison him.
For that the Celeys family, a declining family on the brink of ruins was raised up. They were showered with half the wealth of the Otherys along with the other 5 families that schemed with them. The members of those 6 families along with their relatives were all put to the sword, their remaining wealth confiscated by him, and Maegor Celeys, his father in law and head of the Celeys family who sat to his wife's left became the head of the reds.
He still recalled that day with glee, when he led the Golden Company along with the Mentyr hen lyks into the black walls of the inner City. The private militias of the reds were disarmed or swept aside by his men's steel tide, and every red family was marched to the main square of the inner City, then forced to watch as the Otherys and their fellow travelers were beheaded one by one. It was a glorious day, but it was the day when Tyrosh became swept in its current wave of unrest. "Would you like another drink my love?" He inquired to his wife as he gestured to her empty glass.
"Of course." She smiled as he turned and bid one of his slaves to come over with a drink. She took the drink, handing it over to a nearby food taster, a woman of dothraki descent. The taster took a small sip, once the recommended one minute passed she handed the goblet back to her and she took a drink from it. He didn't love his wife he admitted, but he found her comely, and their family useful.
The reds may want his head on a spike, but they were in a short leash for now thanks to the Celeys. But if he pulled the leash too much he wouldn't be able to contain them. The inner City was the red's sanctuary, and the Celeys had been forced to move their manse to one next to the gates that led from the inner city to the outer one, that manse was currently guarded by a mix of their personal militia, members of the Golden Company and a century of unsullied he lent out to them. He considered it a small miracle if a day passed without any reports of his guards there being attacked or pelted by rocks.
He couldn't kill them all for now. He dreamt every night that he'd gather them all within the palace of the Archon to feast with them, then as dinner started, have the Arlie Azantys, and the Golden Company march in and put them all to the sword, not just the men, but the women and the children too.
But that was only a dream, he could certainly order the elimination of the reds, but that would come with too steep of a price. Many within that faction had family and interests outside the city, sponsoring trading missions within the other free cities as well as having marriage links within them. That wasn't even taking into account the substantial holdings they owned in the mainland within the disputed lands as well as the private slave militias each family held.
He had granted Tegon Irudy to the Golden Company along the borderlands where their holdings bordered with the holdings of Lys and Myr to counteract this. But if all out war broke out with the aristocracy, they would certainly call in Myr as well as Lys treaties be damned, then they would set the mainland aflame by the time they put them down in the city. No, he certainly couldn't for now.
A cheer emerged from the crowds, as the chariot of the blues passed the reds and took first place. He glanced at the stands where the blues and reds sat and watched as some of the reds threw their half eaten food towards the blues. The blues in the stands then stood up, running over to the reds and fighting hand to hand.
Rhaegar Mentys, head of the Mentyr hen lyks assigned to keep the peace in the stadium walked up behind his chair and whispered in his ears. "Archon, should we step in?"
"Immediately," he replied sternly.
Violence was officially prohibited in the High Hippodrome within Tyrosh, no one save for the Mentyr hen lyks could bear arms inside. Even the Golden company who he lavished with honors had to abide by that rule. However, that rule limited itself to only weapons, if a red or anyone not from your faction insulted you, you had the right to fight back so long as you used your body. He had encouraged this intra faction violence in the last few years, better for the factions to beat each other to death than to turn their spears on him. Rhaegar went to the door where he whispered some words to one of the other Mentyri and he returned back to his position right behind him.
A minute passed, a horn was sounded and the Mentyri emerged from within the stadium, breaking up the squabbling reds and blues and dragging them back to their spots.
He glanced over to his right at his cousin and head of the blues, Saenar Adarys who glanced over at him, mouthing 'thank you' and nodding his head in approval.
The blues were another headache of their own, as the team of the merchants and the banks of Tyrosh, they could either ensure his Treasury was overflowing or push him to the brink of bankruptcy. More than that however, they were close to his heart. He was born as a member of a Blues family, having risen up to head his own merchant guild until he was caught up in a power struggle and was sent to exile.
It was thanks to the Blues within the city that the gates of Tyrosh were opened up and given over to the Band of 9. He had granted them concessions, giving the trading towns founded by then on the mainland tax breaks, subsidies of their expeditions to the East, as well as their banks. But they wanted more, they wanted control over monetary policy, control over the minting of coins. It was too much for them to ask, and now they were at an impasse. While they didn't all want his head on a spike unlike the reds, the fact that there a vocal minority against him within his own native faction that conspired with the reds chilled him to his bone. He wanted to feed the blues, but he couldn't feed them too much lest they bleed him dry and attract the ires of the other factions. And if he didn't feed them too much as he did right now they would raise hell.
As the fighting died down, he spotted some greens standing up from their seats and shout anti blue slogans. It wasn't a minute before another scuffle broke out with the blues. Just like clockwork, the Mentyri swept in after a minute and quickly separated them, using the blunt end of their swords to end the violence. One of the members of the greens apparently fell on the stairs and cracked his skull open. He wanted to laugh at the poor bastard, but with the greens hating him almost as much as the reds did he held his tongue. He glanced at Daario Rhaenyr, the leader of the greens faction who sat to the right of his cousin and was scowling at him, then to another nearby slave of his, a summer islander and gestured for him to come over. "Yes master?" He asked in Tyroshi with a heavy summer islander accent.
"Inquire with the family of the fallen man in the greens section. Have the man's medical treatment paid for and provide them a healer along with extra compensation."
"Yes archon." He bowed.
"And one more thing?"
"Yes?"
"Work on your damn accent, you make me embarrassed to be Tyroshi."
"I....will try...to do...so." He spoke slowly, trying to speak as perfectly as possible.
"Just go." He waved him away and he left the viewing chamber. He glanced back at Daario, whose scowl seemingly lessened as he nodded in approval then leaned back on his chair.
He always hated dealing with the greens even before his exile, they were all a bunch of reeds in the winds. While the Reds were heavily opposed to his rule and the Blues were mostly supportive, the Greens were in the middle of it all. As the team sponsored by manufacturers of Tyrosh's main exports of Dyes, armors, and various alcoholic beverages they were considered the bedrock of Myr. Their interests were intertwined with the 2 main factions, on the one hand they procured the raw materials which they needed to manufacture their goods from lands owned by the Nobility. While on the other hand they needed the various merchant and banking guilds to both help them export their products at reasonable rates and to help drive domestic and foreign investments into their enterprises.
As such they were in a simultaneously symbiotic and competitive relationship with both the nobility and the merchant guilds. If he leaned too heavily in favor of the Merchants and bankers, the guilds would band with the nobility and sweep him out. If he leaned too heavily towards the nobility, he would lose his primary support base among the Merchants and he would be dead within a moon.
He glanced over at the plate of grapes to his left between him and his wife. Grabbing a few grapes and eating them, allowing the flavor to fester in his mouth for a moment. A moment later he heard the clanging of metal and footsteps. Late as always, he sighed as he heard the footsteps get closer.
"Greetings archon," Captain General Myles Toyne spoke in Westerosi as he entered the room, his squire Viserys standing right besides him, both were wearing plate armor with the golden tabard of their company. In normal times, it would be considered a rare honor for a foreigner to share the viewing chamber of the Archon during a chariot races. But these were not normal times.
"Greetings to you as well captain-general. Please, take a seat." He bid him to sit in his own native Tyroshi, one of the few ways he could assert his control over them. Myles took a seat at his assigned spot, right besides Daario to his right. Viserys, the boy king he served sat on a fine ebony chair right behind Myles.
To wear armor in the stadium was considered a social faux pas. It implied that you viewed everyone else as your enemy and that you were ready to challenge them. He glanced at the section of the yellows, all of them wore some sort of armor, boiled leather, chainmail, even some plate.
He had taken in the Golden company after Maelys' defeat. At first he used them only to fend off the Lysene and Myrish, sending them to take minor settlements and villages within the disputed lands. He didn't think much of them, a band of exiles and outlaws from the savage west with no home to return to.
What he didn't expect was their resiliency. Toyne's men won battle after battle, fighting with a savagery and rage that drove both Myrish and Lysene back. In the year after he hired them, Toyne renegotiated their contract, offering to conquer more of the disputed lands in return for being granted holdings as so called lords in their lands. He felt as if he struck gold back then, the Golden company as his vassal, conquering the disputed lands for him.
He signed that deal immediately, Toyne and his men got to work. They parceled the land between themselves, the slaves in their land were freed, being treated as their smallfolk in Westeros were. He never really saw the difference and he paid it no mind. Within 7 years, they numbered their original 10 thousand standing men under arms, and this wasn't including the tens of thousands of levies they could raise from their lands. But at the same time, the city began to turn on him.
The reds became restive, upset by his purges and by the fact the Golds were freeing the slaves in their lands he'd granted them. The greens and the blues had the same complaints. "They're endangering the natural order of things!" They clamored. "My slaves are running away to their lands!" He tried comprising, he'd gotten the golds to agree to compensate the old guard for any slaves that got to their lands, but they refused to give them back. "It's awkward enough to do business with slavers." Toyne told him once. "But if we're caught giving slavers back their slaves Westeros would never welcome us back even if we paid every smallfolk and lord a million gold dragons."
That agreement between them had stemmed the brewing all out war between the Golden company and the old guard. He considered it his finest hour. That was until the Otherys incident occured. It was the Golden company who made contact with the Celeys, their eldest son and his brother in law having served there and having gained wealth, and it was the Celeys that saved him from poison.
Once the heads started rolling however, there was no going back. The threat of the Golden company kept the others in line and he knew that, perhaps in the beggining of it all, had the three factions banded together they could have thrown him and the Golden company off their backs. But it was too late now that the Whites had appeared, the balance of power was now even.
He glanced over at the farthest seat to his left. Aereo the head of the whites, his family had owned him since he was a baby. Thanks to them being the same age, Aereo was assigned to him by his parents as his personal attendant and whipping boy. He trusted Aereo with his life, trusting him even more than some of his own family and friends. He'd found him a comely wife, a Westerosi maiden from one of the many pillow houses of Lys and freed him, along with his wife and their children.
Aereo wasn't just the head of the whites. He was his poison maker, ever since his first wife's attempt at poisoning him he'd grown paranoid. As such he began to drink poison regularly to immunize himself from it, taking inspiration from the old Valyrian tale of Maegor Aetapor, a dragonlord who immunized himself from poisons by ingesting them until he was fully immune.
Aereo was one of the first Whites, the slaves and former slaves who helped keep Tyrosh running. Slaves outnumbered freedmen by three to one, it wasn't limited to men and women in chains forced to toil endlessly in the mines, farms and construction sites in manual menial labor or being forced to debase their bodies in brothels. While many slaves suffered under these conditions, slavery was far more complex than the Westerosi under his service thought. For example, some were only temporarily enslaved, being forced to pay their debts in unpaid labor and services like the so-called smallfolk in Westeros.
While the former were slaves who would be in the bottom rung of Tyroshi society. There were those like the Arlie Azantys, Mentyr hen lyks and Mentyr hen Bartos who rose high as well. Many of these slaves were slaves in name only like Aereo once was, they rose to high positions within their masters households and serving as the Westerosi equivalent to their Castellan.
His relationship with Aero wasn't even unique to Tyrosh or the Free cities as a whole save for Braavos. Many within the Reds had slaves who rose high as Aereo had, they commanded their masters private slave militias and their mainland estates while their masters lived in the city.
It was the same among the Greens and Blues, their slaves serving as craftsmen, accountants, ship captains, teachers, clerks, healers, nurses, and wetmothers. Within the Tyroshi government many slaves also served as tax collectors, Bureaucrats, civil servants and law enforcement. They were trusted to do this due to their perceived impartiality, with them serving all factions within their roles.
But then the Westerosi came in, now that some of the slaves had that taste of freedom they wanted more. In the mines and in the fields, where the lowest of the slaves toiled there were whispers. "The sunset-landers will bring freedom." They said. "Their gods will strike the slavers down."
Their gods, Adarys felt a headache come on as he thought about their gods. Westerosi mostly followed their faith of the 7, and one of the main tenets was their hatred of slavery. Even the few Westerosi who didn't follow the seven had a distaste for it. The local faiths in Essos on the other hand such the Trios, the Lord of light, and the weeping lady of Lys either tolerated it or mandated that the slaves obey the master.
Many of the freed slaves now followed the 7, with many of them carving the 7 pointed star on their foreheads as the so called faith militant of old Westeros before the dragons bought them to heel. The enslaved in the meantime were forbidden from worshipping the seven by their masters, with some even executing any slaves caught with a copy of the seven pointed star, which had been recently translated into Tyroshi. There were even reports of Septons going to Tyrosh and preaching in the streets.
While he couldn't kill them, lest he offend the whites and the golds. He could still expel them. He built a few septs in Tyrosh proper, primarily near the port and requested Septons directly from Kings Landing. Their sermons were supervised by the Arlie Azantys, making sure that they didn't sow religious discord. But even know many in the Arlie Azantys were converting as well.
He took a look inside his viewing box, watching each of the faction leaders, then at the stadium as a whole. He then glanced at another of his slaves and beckoned for him to come. "Yes master?"
"Tell Aero and Myles to meet with me tonight, be discrete about it." He whispered as low as he could. The slave nodded and returned to his spot.
Note: Feel free to comment all you want, any feedback is appreciated and they give me the dopamine rush needed to keep cooking.
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White Sparrows
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Alenco98
Getting sticky.
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He felt the rain drip down from his armor as his column of 1000 Golds exited the stadium once the chariot race ended. They were always the first to leave, making a quick and orderly exit from the stadium as the Mentyri returned their weapons to them.
The city was empty, the few people on the streets glaring daggers at them as they cleared the way for them and shut their doors, closing their stores and watching from the ceilings and windows as they passed by.
He could spot the colors on all the men watching them from the surrounding buildings, reds, greens, and blues. The reds were almost universally hostile to them, with a few exceptions such as the Celeys and the few families associated with them. The greens were little better, a few of the more open minded ones weren't outwardly hostile and conducted some business with them under the table, but in public the all the guilds and craftsmen boycotted members of the Golds and Whites. The blues were a mixed bag, those from the Adarys clan and their close allies tolerated them and even did business with them and their allies. But the others shunned them, joining the boycott the greens called upon them.
As they approached their own quarter he felt some of the tension leave his body. Once Adarys began to face unrest from within the city, he had no choice but to call on them to quell the various rebellions as not even the Arlie Azantys and the Mentyri were able to put down an uprising from all 3 of the old guard factions. Once the major uprisings were quelled, the Golden Company was allowed to establish a permanent Garrison within the city, 2000 men stationed in one of the burnt down quarters near the Archon's Palace, with the fleet on standby to ferry another 5000 of their levies within a week should the need arise.
With a permanent Garrison in the city, their soldiers and officers needed places to live, and places to spend the wages Adarys provided them. The highest of officers like himself were provided manses. Meanwhile, the foot soldiers, lesser officers, and knights lived in smaller apartment complexes or in newly rebuilt houses, all paid and provided for by Adarys.
Even though they now had their own quarter of the city to themselves they needed people to work on maintaining those houses, servants to tend to their every need, nurses, cooks, food, blacksmiths, sutlers, banks, luxury goods, washers, and courtesans for their baser needs. However, they were still Westerosi, and the city viewed them as foreign invaders. Though the Blues, Greens, and Reds couldn't oppose them physically, they could still bar them from their shops, denying them food, weapons, armor, and even women.
However this attempt at a boycott backfired. His men bought their own camp followers and servants from their holdings in the mainland. Soon, what was initially meant as a garrison within the city evolved into a proper quarter of its own, a stronghold for him and his golds and allied whites in a city full of reds, greens and blues out for their blood. And with themselves firmly establish the faith of the 7 followed them.
"Seven's blessing to you all Kaerīnioa." A group of 3 dozen White Sparrows guarding the entrance to their quarter mixed with members of the Golden Company called out to them. Toyne allowed himself to feel a small tinge of pride as his column entered their quarter of the city.
It was a moment that had been years in the making, at first by accident but now by their design. It began when they were initially granted lands by Adarys early in their service of Tyrosh. These Tegon Irudy were their reward after conquering them from the Lysene and Myrish, unlike in Tyrosh proper where slaves outnumbered the freemen 3 to 1, in the disputed lands that ratio jumped to 10 to 1. Unlike the slaves in the city which lived a relatively comfortable existence compared to most people in Westeros, the slaves on the mainland lived in abject misery.
It helped that the other gods and religions in Tyrosh as well as all of Essos either approved of slavery, or had been indifferent to it. Some had even gone so far as to demand slaves obey their masters. Not the faith of the seven, once they settled into these lands they freed their slaves, allowing them the same protections any Westerosi lords allowed to their smallfolk. They could not be sold, flogged, punished or killed at will. Moreover, they had to be paid for their work when it exceeded their rent. Their smallfolk could leave and try to find somewhere else to live, as long as all formal obligations were met, which included a certain number of days of military service as well as helping bring in the village harvest.
It was then that many of these former slaves willingly pledged themselves to them. And once they heard about the seven and its hatred of slavery they became its most ardent converts. On the surface, the Golden company fielded a standing army 10 thousand men and 100 ships to bring them to and from Tyrosh from their mainland holdings. But if they included the levies they could raise from their lands they could easily field another 20 thousand men and commission another 100 ships. These levies were not the smallfolk levies the lords of Westeros raised. They were battle hardened, used to fighting cross border raids against Lysene and Myrish incursions as well as raids from the Reds and their hired swords whenever their slaves ran away to their estates.
Now, just like in their estates on the mainland, more of the slaves and former slaves within the city were converting to the seven with every passing day. All who wore the sigil of the Golden company and wore their armor were revered by the former slaves and slaves within the city. Many slaves who wished to escape their masters ran to their quarters to seek sanctuary.
Initially the private militias of all three factions would enter the quarter, dragging the slaves back to their master to face punishment. But after several of these incidents the freedmen took matters into their own hands. They were organized by someone calling himself the White Sparrow, a former wondering Septon according to the reports he'd read who made his way to Tyrosh. It was these White Sparrows who served as both the protectors of the freed slaves as well as the first line of defense for their quarter of Tyrosh.
On the surface they were seen as a bunch of disorganized religious zealots who like Adarys and his golds threatened to upend the "holy and sacred institution of master and servant." Neither he or Adarys gave them official backing either in weapons or financing. But he knew who was behind them, Aereo, Adarys' former slave was behind their rise, fundraising behind the scenes with the former slaves of the whites faction as well as sympathetic Azantys and Mentyri to back the white Sparrows with both gold and arms. It was an open secret at this point, just as the old guard has their private militias, the whites had the White Sparrows as their own militia.
As he rode deeper into his quarter with the rest of his column, he felt immense joy as the white stars and the inhabitants of the quarter were borderline worshipping him and his men. Kaerīnio they called him, Savior in high Valyrian or Kaerīnioa, saviours, whenever he was with another captain or with his men. He had never been a religious man, sure he worshipped the 7, listened to the sermon of their camp Sept every 7th day but he didn't follow the faith as strongly as the freed slaves did.
He tried at first to ask them to be just a little less deferential to him and his captains. But they were ignored and the people had called him and his captains humble for it, before bowing to them and worshipping them again. It had made him a little uncomfortable at first, but now he reveled in it. Reminding him of the stories he'd heard as a boy from his father, of heroic knights from the age of heroes who rode to drive evil from the world.
As he looked around the quarter, he felt immense pride as he saw the freedmen wearing the seven pointed star. Those of the White Sparrows went even farther, carving or even branding the seven pointed stars on their foreheads. He spotted septons from Westeros under armed guard from the White Sparrows preaching to the crowd, calling for holy war against the slavers which only riled them up even further as they cheered him on.
A few minutes later his column arrived to their meeting spot. It was the largest sept constructed in Tyrosh so far. In front of the Sept stood 100 armed White Sparrows. Unlike those in the entrance who wielded clubs, knives, axes and pitchforks they were well armed, wielding 2 handed swords, shields, as well as chainmail armor. They all had the seven pointed star carved in their forehead as all White Sparrows did.
He dismounted from his horse, ordering Viserys to do so as well. He glanced at Merwyn Peake who rode right behind him. "Establish a perimeter around the sept, no one comes in or out without my leave."
"As you wish captain."
Peake rode off and began to bark orders at the other knights in his column. He glanced at Viserys and they walked their way inside. It was a large sept, made to hold at least 1000 people. In front of the altar stood the others in their meeting. "From now on do as I do." He whispered to Viserys as they walked to the altar.
Within the Sept, there were over 3 dozen armed believers, all as heavily armed as those outside. Though he felt satisfaction being worshipped by the White Sparrows, their fanaticism as well as their willingness to take up arms reminded him of the Faith Militant of old. I've probably unleashed a monster here. He glanced at Viserys for a moment as they walked up to the altar. But if this is the way home so be it, fuck these slaver cunts anyways.
As they reached the altar, the White Sparrow walked up to greet them. "It's good to finally meet you in person Kaerīnio." The White Sparrow turned to him and gave him a warm smile as he spoke to him. He was relatively young, with a lean sharp face and a few lines around his mouth. He was a small, scrawny man, a head shorter than he was. He looked thin, half starved, with a slightly receded hairline and a short stubble of a beard. He had deep set brown eyes, he felt as if he was looking at his soul when he stared at him. On him he wore a simple wool tunic with a simple bronze necklace with the 7 pointed star at the center.
"Seven's blessings to you as well your Holiness." He knelt in front of him as did Viserys.
"The seven bless you as well Captain general, as well as you, King Viserys." He felt himself tense up as the White Sparrow continued. "Be at ease, you are with friends here. My soldiers and I would happily embrace martyrdom in the name of the seven before revealing what has and will be said here tonight. Stand."
"Thank you, your Holiness." Toyne stood up and looked at Aereo and Adarys. Aereo seemed as serene as usual, Adarys meantime seemed drained, the look in his eyes was vacant and he held what seemed to be a sword covered inside a leather bag. "There better be a good reason as to why we're meeting here tonight Adarys. And why here?"
"Because I love my city," Adarys said in a resigned tone as he looked over at them. He walked up to them, then sat down on one of the steps leading up to the altar. He glanced at him, as well as Viserys, the White Sparrow and Aereo. "Please sit, I want to talk to you all man to man, not Archon to servant. There's no point in this so called 'mummers farce' as you Westerosi call it anymore."
What the hells is up with him? Toyne had many questions to ask, but judging by how Adarys was acting it seemed something serious happened. He saw down next to him on his right, Viserys sat next to him on his right, while on Adarys' left Aero sat down, the white Sparrow sitting on the far left next to Aereo.
"What happened?" He asked him. "Where's the ever confident Silvertongue huh?" He lightly hanged him on the shoulder and smiled. "The man that delivered Tyrosh to us years ago with cunning and guile."
"I'm tired of preventing the inevitable. The damned assassins, the constant juggling between factions. There's no point to it all!" He yelled loudly, to the point that the White Sparrows in the Sept turned to him. He sighed in frustration and sobbed. "I have to either fully concede to the damn old guard and throw you golds and whites to the wolves, which will plunge the city into civil war and destroy all the gains we've made these last few years. Or I can just give in, fully join with you, plunge the city into civil and potentially preserve everything we've worked to gain for Tyrosh. Though it would mean throwing away everything that made Tyrosh Tyrosh."
Like the slavery, you pompous ass. He scoffed for a moment, only for Adarys to glare at him. "Fuck you Toyne, you forced my hand. Making me betroth my daughter to your boy king. Once I announce this the old guard will rise up, I've smooth talked my way out of civil war before. First when your men wouldn't give away the slaves that ran to you. Then when you brutally put down the Otherys and the other cunts from the reds, greens and blues. And then when your damn White stars started fighting with the old guard on the street. But with your boy king you're forcing me to pick a side."
"So what do you want then? Are you here to complain like some courtesan in a pillow house when a patron is short a copper?" Toyne scoffed at his jape but the White Sparrow gave him a disapproving look. "Apologies your Holyness."
"You can apologize to the seven once you go to confession." He frowned as he chastised him. "And as for you, heathen." He turned to Adarys. "The seven says to be kind to guests, but your tongue is wearing mine and the gods patience thin. So watch it." He hissed at him.
"I shall keep that in mind, your Holyness." Toyne bowed his head. Stuck up cunt.
Adarys turned to the White Sparrow. "As you wish Sparrow." Adarys nodded then he turned back to Toyne. "No I didn't come here to complain. I came here to plan everything out, and to secure assurances."
"Assurances?" He asked him.
"Yes you summerlander. If I go through with this, I'll be your puppet in all but name. I want assurances that me and my clan, the Adarys will be spared in the upcoming storm I'm about to unleash. Not only them, but the Celeys and the Rhaenyr. I need at least some of the old guard preserved, our city still needs to be run."
"Do they know we're meeting right now?" Aereo interjected.
"No," he shook his head. "Gods no, the more people know about this, the more chances there are for fuck ups. My wife thinks I'm walking in the gardens at the moment."
At least he knows what's at stake. He nodded in approval, the White Sparrow only frowned, angry at the foul tongue of Adarys.
"Run it by me then Adarys, what's the game plan for our little civil war?"
"To begin, let me show you what's in this bag. Consider this my dowry to your boy king." Adarys glanced at Viserys and opened the leather bags, revealing a Valyrian steel sword.
Some high Valyrian vocab
Kaerīnio = Savior
Kaerīnioa = Saviors
The city was empty, the few people on the streets glaring daggers at them as they cleared the way for them and shut their doors, closing their stores and watching from the ceilings and windows as they passed by.
He could spot the colors on all the men watching them from the surrounding buildings, reds, greens, and blues. The reds were almost universally hostile to them, with a few exceptions such as the Celeys and the few families associated with them. The greens were little better, a few of the more open minded ones weren't outwardly hostile and conducted some business with them under the table, but in public the all the guilds and craftsmen boycotted members of the Golds and Whites. The blues were a mixed bag, those from the Adarys clan and their close allies tolerated them and even did business with them and their allies. But the others shunned them, joining the boycott the greens called upon them.
As they approached their own quarter he felt some of the tension leave his body. Once Adarys began to face unrest from within the city, he had no choice but to call on them to quell the various rebellions as not even the Arlie Azantys and the Mentyri were able to put down an uprising from all 3 of the old guard factions. Once the major uprisings were quelled, the Golden Company was allowed to establish a permanent Garrison within the city, 2000 men stationed in one of the burnt down quarters near the Archon's Palace, with the fleet on standby to ferry another 5000 of their levies within a week should the need arise.
With a permanent Garrison in the city, their soldiers and officers needed places to live, and places to spend the wages Adarys provided them. The highest of officers like himself were provided manses. Meanwhile, the foot soldiers, lesser officers, and knights lived in smaller apartment complexes or in newly rebuilt houses, all paid and provided for by Adarys.
Even though they now had their own quarter of the city to themselves they needed people to work on maintaining those houses, servants to tend to their every need, nurses, cooks, food, blacksmiths, sutlers, banks, luxury goods, washers, and courtesans for their baser needs. However, they were still Westerosi, and the city viewed them as foreign invaders. Though the Blues, Greens, and Reds couldn't oppose them physically, they could still bar them from their shops, denying them food, weapons, armor, and even women.
However this attempt at a boycott backfired. His men bought their own camp followers and servants from their holdings in the mainland. Soon, what was initially meant as a garrison within the city evolved into a proper quarter of its own, a stronghold for him and his golds and allied whites in a city full of reds, greens and blues out for their blood. And with themselves firmly establish the faith of the 7 followed them.
"Seven's blessing to you all Kaerīnioa." A group of 3 dozen White Sparrows guarding the entrance to their quarter mixed with members of the Golden Company called out to them. Toyne allowed himself to feel a small tinge of pride as his column entered their quarter of the city.
It was a moment that had been years in the making, at first by accident but now by their design. It began when they were initially granted lands by Adarys early in their service of Tyrosh. These Tegon Irudy were their reward after conquering them from the Lysene and Myrish, unlike in Tyrosh proper where slaves outnumbered the freemen 3 to 1, in the disputed lands that ratio jumped to 10 to 1. Unlike the slaves in the city which lived a relatively comfortable existence compared to most people in Westeros, the slaves on the mainland lived in abject misery.
It helped that the other gods and religions in Tyrosh as well as all of Essos either approved of slavery, or had been indifferent to it. Some had even gone so far as to demand slaves obey their masters. Not the faith of the seven, once they settled into these lands they freed their slaves, allowing them the same protections any Westerosi lords allowed to their smallfolk. They could not be sold, flogged, punished or killed at will. Moreover, they had to be paid for their work when it exceeded their rent. Their smallfolk could leave and try to find somewhere else to live, as long as all formal obligations were met, which included a certain number of days of military service as well as helping bring in the village harvest.
It was then that many of these former slaves willingly pledged themselves to them. And once they heard about the seven and its hatred of slavery they became its most ardent converts. On the surface, the Golden company fielded a standing army 10 thousand men and 100 ships to bring them to and from Tyrosh from their mainland holdings. But if they included the levies they could raise from their lands they could easily field another 20 thousand men and commission another 100 ships. These levies were not the smallfolk levies the lords of Westeros raised. They were battle hardened, used to fighting cross border raids against Lysene and Myrish incursions as well as raids from the Reds and their hired swords whenever their slaves ran away to their estates.
Now, just like in their estates on the mainland, more of the slaves and former slaves within the city were converting to the seven with every passing day. All who wore the sigil of the Golden company and wore their armor were revered by the former slaves and slaves within the city. Many slaves who wished to escape their masters ran to their quarters to seek sanctuary.
Initially the private militias of all three factions would enter the quarter, dragging the slaves back to their master to face punishment. But after several of these incidents the freedmen took matters into their own hands. They were organized by someone calling himself the White Sparrow, a former wondering Septon according to the reports he'd read who made his way to Tyrosh. It was these White Sparrows who served as both the protectors of the freed slaves as well as the first line of defense for their quarter of Tyrosh.
On the surface they were seen as a bunch of disorganized religious zealots who like Adarys and his golds threatened to upend the "holy and sacred institution of master and servant." Neither he or Adarys gave them official backing either in weapons or financing. But he knew who was behind them, Aereo, Adarys' former slave was behind their rise, fundraising behind the scenes with the former slaves of the whites faction as well as sympathetic Azantys and Mentyri to back the white Sparrows with both gold and arms. It was an open secret at this point, just as the old guard has their private militias, the whites had the White Sparrows as their own militia.
As he rode deeper into his quarter with the rest of his column, he felt immense joy as the white stars and the inhabitants of the quarter were borderline worshipping him and his men. Kaerīnio they called him, Savior in high Valyrian or Kaerīnioa, saviours, whenever he was with another captain or with his men. He had never been a religious man, sure he worshipped the 7, listened to the sermon of their camp Sept every 7th day but he didn't follow the faith as strongly as the freed slaves did.
He tried at first to ask them to be just a little less deferential to him and his captains. But they were ignored and the people had called him and his captains humble for it, before bowing to them and worshipping them again. It had made him a little uncomfortable at first, but now he reveled in it. Reminding him of the stories he'd heard as a boy from his father, of heroic knights from the age of heroes who rode to drive evil from the world.
As he looked around the quarter, he felt immense pride as he saw the freedmen wearing the seven pointed star. Those of the White Sparrows went even farther, carving or even branding the seven pointed stars on their foreheads. He spotted septons from Westeros under armed guard from the White Sparrows preaching to the crowd, calling for holy war against the slavers which only riled them up even further as they cheered him on.
A few minutes later his column arrived to their meeting spot. It was the largest sept constructed in Tyrosh so far. In front of the Sept stood 100 armed White Sparrows. Unlike those in the entrance who wielded clubs, knives, axes and pitchforks they were well armed, wielding 2 handed swords, shields, as well as chainmail armor. They all had the seven pointed star carved in their forehead as all White Sparrows did.
He dismounted from his horse, ordering Viserys to do so as well. He glanced at Merwyn Peake who rode right behind him. "Establish a perimeter around the sept, no one comes in or out without my leave."
"As you wish captain."
Peake rode off and began to bark orders at the other knights in his column. He glanced at Viserys and they walked their way inside. It was a large sept, made to hold at least 1000 people. In front of the altar stood the others in their meeting. "From now on do as I do." He whispered to Viserys as they walked to the altar.
Within the Sept, there were over 3 dozen armed believers, all as heavily armed as those outside. Though he felt satisfaction being worshipped by the White Sparrows, their fanaticism as well as their willingness to take up arms reminded him of the Faith Militant of old. I've probably unleashed a monster here. He glanced at Viserys for a moment as they walked up to the altar. But if this is the way home so be it, fuck these slaver cunts anyways.
As they reached the altar, the White Sparrow walked up to greet them. "It's good to finally meet you in person Kaerīnio." The White Sparrow turned to him and gave him a warm smile as he spoke to him. He was relatively young, with a lean sharp face and a few lines around his mouth. He was a small, scrawny man, a head shorter than he was. He looked thin, half starved, with a slightly receded hairline and a short stubble of a beard. He had deep set brown eyes, he felt as if he was looking at his soul when he stared at him. On him he wore a simple wool tunic with a simple bronze necklace with the 7 pointed star at the center.
"Seven's blessings to you as well your Holiness." He knelt in front of him as did Viserys.
"The seven bless you as well Captain general, as well as you, King Viserys." He felt himself tense up as the White Sparrow continued. "Be at ease, you are with friends here. My soldiers and I would happily embrace martyrdom in the name of the seven before revealing what has and will be said here tonight. Stand."
"Thank you, your Holiness." Toyne stood up and looked at Aereo and Adarys. Aereo seemed as serene as usual, Adarys meantime seemed drained, the look in his eyes was vacant and he held what seemed to be a sword covered inside a leather bag. "There better be a good reason as to why we're meeting here tonight Adarys. And why here?"
"Because I love my city," Adarys said in a resigned tone as he looked over at them. He walked up to them, then sat down on one of the steps leading up to the altar. He glanced at him, as well as Viserys, the White Sparrow and Aereo. "Please sit, I want to talk to you all man to man, not Archon to servant. There's no point in this so called 'mummers farce' as you Westerosi call it anymore."
What the hells is up with him? Toyne had many questions to ask, but judging by how Adarys was acting it seemed something serious happened. He saw down next to him on his right, Viserys sat next to him on his right, while on Adarys' left Aero sat down, the white Sparrow sitting on the far left next to Aereo.
"What happened?" He asked him. "Where's the ever confident Silvertongue huh?" He lightly hanged him on the shoulder and smiled. "The man that delivered Tyrosh to us years ago with cunning and guile."
"I'm tired of preventing the inevitable. The damned assassins, the constant juggling between factions. There's no point to it all!" He yelled loudly, to the point that the White Sparrows in the Sept turned to him. He sighed in frustration and sobbed. "I have to either fully concede to the damn old guard and throw you golds and whites to the wolves, which will plunge the city into civil war and destroy all the gains we've made these last few years. Or I can just give in, fully join with you, plunge the city into civil and potentially preserve everything we've worked to gain for Tyrosh. Though it would mean throwing away everything that made Tyrosh Tyrosh."
Like the slavery, you pompous ass. He scoffed for a moment, only for Adarys to glare at him. "Fuck you Toyne, you forced my hand. Making me betroth my daughter to your boy king. Once I announce this the old guard will rise up, I've smooth talked my way out of civil war before. First when your men wouldn't give away the slaves that ran to you. Then when you brutally put down the Otherys and the other cunts from the reds, greens and blues. And then when your damn White stars started fighting with the old guard on the street. But with your boy king you're forcing me to pick a side."
"So what do you want then? Are you here to complain like some courtesan in a pillow house when a patron is short a copper?" Toyne scoffed at his jape but the White Sparrow gave him a disapproving look. "Apologies your Holyness."
"You can apologize to the seven once you go to confession." He frowned as he chastised him. "And as for you, heathen." He turned to Adarys. "The seven says to be kind to guests, but your tongue is wearing mine and the gods patience thin. So watch it." He hissed at him.
"I shall keep that in mind, your Holyness." Toyne bowed his head. Stuck up cunt.
Adarys turned to the White Sparrow. "As you wish Sparrow." Adarys nodded then he turned back to Toyne. "No I didn't come here to complain. I came here to plan everything out, and to secure assurances."
"Assurances?" He asked him.
"Yes you summerlander. If I go through with this, I'll be your puppet in all but name. I want assurances that me and my clan, the Adarys will be spared in the upcoming storm I'm about to unleash. Not only them, but the Celeys and the Rhaenyr. I need at least some of the old guard preserved, our city still needs to be run."
"Do they know we're meeting right now?" Aereo interjected.
"No," he shook his head. "Gods no, the more people know about this, the more chances there are for fuck ups. My wife thinks I'm walking in the gardens at the moment."
At least he knows what's at stake. He nodded in approval, the White Sparrow only frowned, angry at the foul tongue of Adarys.
"Run it by me then Adarys, what's the game plan for our little civil war?"
"To begin, let me show you what's in this bag. Consider this my dowry to your boy king." Adarys glanced at Viserys and opened the leather bags, revealing a Valyrian steel sword.
Some high Valyrian vocab
Kaerīnio = Savior
Kaerīnioa = Saviors
King of Tyrosh
New
Alenco98
Getting sticky.
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Taena Celeys felt a light tap on what felt like her shoulder. "What?" She asked as she wrapped the blanket tighter around her.
"Wake up!" A familiar voice quietly hissed at her. She turned and saw the face of her husband Alequo Adarys, the Tyrant of Tyrosh. There was fear in his face, she'd never seen him this way before and for a moment she felt apprehension as well.
She sat up on her bed, glancing at him then at the window behind him. "It's not even dawn yet, what are you up to?" She never cared for matters of state, leaving that for the men in her family to take care of. She would rather walk in the high gardens of the inner city with her cousins and fellow nobles of the old blood while sharing stories or entertaining them with her harp and singing.
But after their family bound themselves to Adarys everything changed. Her old friends and even some of her extended family shunned her and her immediate family. "Traitors" she could hear them say as she walked the city under heavy guard. She missed her old life, they may not have been the richest family within the inner city, but they had what they needed, they weren't starving to death on the streets or disgraced like many others had. But that was in the past, for her family to prosper she needed to stay by his side and give him heirs, Baela and Jacaera, her twins sired by him and her heart and soul.
He had other sons before, when he was married to the Otherys clan, but after their scheme they were all put to the sword. The sons shared a kinder fate according to her father, wine laced with sweetsleep, a merciful death compared to what their mother and kin faced. When she first held them she vowed to let anything happen to her daughters. A moment later her daughters walked into the room while rubbing the sleep from their eyes. They were under an escort of 10 unsullied that she could make out just outside their chambers. They were dressed in the usual red silk dresses used to represent the women of their faction. "What is happening?" She turned to her husband. "Why are they here?"
She feared the worst, was her family going down the path of the Otherys? She looked around for a moment, seeing if there was anything she could use for a weapon. "We need to leave the palace immediately." Her husband replied, looking around for a moment as if he was afraid anyone asides from him and the guards would hear it.
"Why?" She stood from the bed, Going to her nightstand and ringing a bell to call for her slaves so she could get changed into her attire for the day.
"Because by the time the sun sets war will have broken out in the city." He said with a tone of resignation in his voice.
She felt her heart drop for a moment, her old friends in the inner wall, her family. She had so many questions to ask. "I will explain on the way, but we must get you to safety."
"Where?"
"The Golden Quarter."
A few moments later the door opened and their slaves came in, handing her and her husband their clothes and helping them change into it. Once they were finished her husband turned to them, "thank you, you may go."
The slaves left the room and he turned back to face her. Her husband was changed into, a simple purple silk vest and a black tunic, followed by fine leather shoes. She on the other hand was changed into a simple and long grey dress made of silks.
"We need to get to the gates as soon as possible. Time is of the essence." They marched through the palace, the Mentyri and the unsullied were running around, barricading the windows and any doors that could be used as entrances, she even spotted a few members of the golds with them.
Though she didn't care for matters of state her father made sure to educate her on the state of their faction once she became wife to Adarys. They were of the old blood, that much she knew, descendants of the original founders of Tyrosh who could trace their descent to the freehold.
But as their family fell on hard times they became the lowest of the old blood. Though their heritage afforded them a place within the inner city they were barely any better than the freeborn and the freedmen when it came to their living standards, with some of the slaves within the government living better lives than them.
Now that they betrayed and helped Adarys cast down the Otherys and the other 5 main families that led the old blood they were officially in charge of the reds. But it was a house of cards according to father. Though they had greater wealth and status than the Otherys they became outcasts within the inner city, their manse being relocated to one near the gates that led to the outer city.
That manse was more of an armed camp than a place to live in. Golds occupied the manse, along with many if the poorer families of the inner city. Rather than serving as the heads of the red, they were their wardens, crushing any red that dared to defy Adarys. The more prosperous of the reds and the remaining powerful families viewed them as traitors and they showed it, murdering their private soldiers and any golds that dared to wonder off alone in the inner city as well as the outer. Her father forbid her from walking around the inner city, being forced to see the gardens from within a carriage under armed guard. Yet even then she saw the contempt and hatred they held for her, even her old friends whom she shared laughs, sang for and cried over heartbreak didn't dare look at her anymore.
And now my old world would soon turn to ashes. As they left the palace she spotted several carriages with darkened windows outside the palace. Each of them bore the sigil of the archon and had unsullied guards ready to escort them along with drivers ready to take them across the city.
Her husband pointed to the nearest carriage he saw, nodding to the driver as he opened the door and let her and her daughters in. Once he was seated, the whips used to urge the horses on rang, and the horseman from his carriage barked out orders. "Move out!"
She felt the carriage moving, and looked out from the tinted windows as they left the palace. Sne saw them scatter in various directions. She could feel them, the old guard watching, their spies around the palace most likely warning them that her family was on the move. She looked at every building their carriage passed, afraid they knew where they were. "Do not fret too much," her husband said. "I've been been moving like this these last few months, ever since we began to set everything in motion."
"Set what in motion?"
"That." He said as he pointed to a vandalized temple of the Trios that they were passing.
The city had only devolved into more chaos by then. The White Sparrows had been fighting with the members of other faiths in the street. She held court with her husband, being all too aware of the tensions these last few months. One day a Sparrow would be bought to trial and executed for killing a follower of the various faiths in the city or be whipped for vandalizing a temple. Then the next day a follower of the various faiths of Tyrosh would be found guilty of the same and suffer the same punishment.
"I've been begun funneling my personal funds to Aereo, the stars now are a military force on their own. I've also turned a blind eye to the septons coming from Westeros."
"Are you mad?!" She hissed at him. Her father told her of the delicate balance her husband held between the old and new guards; the reds, blues and greens from the days before Adarys took over against the whites and golds, the foreign barbarians and their newly freed slaves that aligned with them. And now her husband was confessing to throwing it all away and fully aligning with the new guard. She wanted to tell her father, to run away from Tyrosh with her daughters and family. She understood why her husband was so afraid.
"What choice do I have?" He shrugged. "The Old Guard wants me to cast the whites and golds out because of their threat to their power, but it's because of them that I won Tyrosh so many victories and new territories."
He wasn't wrong, the differences between the old guard and the new were irreconcilable. But while they faced Myr and Lys they could be united under the threat of a common enemy as her father told her. Now however those enemies were gone, and their incompatibility was becoming clearer each day. But she felt something was wrong, he was the Silvertongue. If he chose to do something it was always because he clearly benefitted from it. These actions sounded like a man out of options. "You're hiding something." She said. "Even if you made your choice on who to back. You wouldn't just rush in like this. What's going on."
Her husband started laughing. "This is why I hate clever women. Especially clever women with a pretty face."
She felt flattered by this but she only scoffed. "Skip the flattery, what happened?"
"The golds, they made me an offer I couldn't refuse."
"What was it?"
"You'll see once we arrive."
The carriage came to a stop. The unsullied walking around the cart jumped on the sides and raised their shields with one hand. "We're at the ghost line." The driver said as he whipped his horses and they moved forwards. The ghost line had been the result of these tensions between the new and old guard. The streets between the Golden quarter and the rest of the city had become abandoned recently as the fighting wore on, with it being declared the ghost line, the line separating them from the rest of the city.
She felt tension in her stomach as they entered the ghost line. Crossbowmen and archers from both sides lined the ghost line, shooting any slave that tried running to the Golden quarter from Tyrosh proper or defending the Golden quarter from any would-be Interlopers. Fortunately many in the city still respected her husband's title or archon, unwilling to wage direct violence on him for now.
As the carriage arrived in the Golden Quarter as the inhabitants had referred to, she saw some of the fruits of her husband's efforts in aiding the whites. The White Sparrows, formerly a bunch of rag tag slaves with limited arms and funding seemed more and more like a real army, with even the lowest of them now wielding boiled leather and chainmail armor with a shield and forge-quality shortswords.
Their carriage stopped in front of a large sept. He opened the door, descending from his carriage and helping them down. They walked up to the door of the Sept, which was lined with over 50 heavily armed men in plate armor bearing sword and shields. "The White Falcons." Her husband said. "They're the elite troops of the White Sparrow himself. That's who we are meeting with." She heard tales of the Sparrow from her father, a madman and religious zealot who roused the freedmen as well as the slaves within the city. She only heard rumors on what he looked like, some claimed the white Sparrow wasn't even a man, but a beautiful woman who served as a Septa, others that he was an old man worn by his years, and others that he didn't exist at all and that it was a pseudonym for Aereo, the head of the whites.
A moment later, the captain of the White Falcons presented himself. He was a bear of a man almost 7 feet tall. "Archon." He said as he pointed to the Sept. "He is waiting inside, you may proceed." As if on que, the White Falcons parted and opened a path for them and they made their way inside.
The Sept was filled with the heavily armed men of the White Falcons who stared at them. On the altar proper there were 4 people waiting for them. She recognized Toyne, the leader of the whites, and Aereo the leader of the whites. The other two she didn't recognize, one was a short man who was barely skin and bones and wore a simple white tunic. And the other was what looked like a teenager of Valyrian descent and wearing plate armor. As she stepped up to the altar with her husband he whispered to her. "Bow your head." Her husband whispered to her and she did so.
"Welcome Archon, before we start, is there anything you need of us?" The short man asked.
"No." He shook his head, "We came to all the terms I asked for when we swore the oath the night I delivered the sword to your boy king. I will give myself to your faith, and you will take Tyrosh from the grip of the old guard and fully give it to me."
"What?" She turned to him, "you're converting to the 7?"
Toyne couldn't help but laugh as she pointed at her. "You know Adarys I knew you were a sneaky cunt, but to keep all this even from your wife."
"Language Toyne." The short man hissed at him.
"Sorry your Holyness." He said in an embarrassed tone. The man then looked at her.
"And you." She turned to the short man, "are you the White Sparrow?"
"A pompous name yes," he nodded as he walked up to her and her husband." He was short, shorter than even her by a few inches. He was bone skinny, with thinning hair but a youthful face, she felt as if she was talking to a boy in a sense. "Many in your city call me by that name. But I too was born from a mother like you all, and of a father who sired me, my name was Erryk, but once I gave myself to the faith I became one of its many servants. Call me what you like."
"Well then Erryk, I want to know what you all did to turn my husband from the Silvertongue into your whimpering and fearful servant. It seems I haven't been informed of your little intrigue."
"Toyne." The White Sparrow turned to him. "you were the one that set this in motion. Take some responsibility and tell her."
"It seems it's time Viserys." He turned to the boy in armor and bid him to come forward. "I'll keep it brief, do you know why the Golden Company was established my lady?"
"Because you tried to overthrow the Targaryens in Westeros and failed, but after the last war the last male Blackfyre died, and the last 2 women are married into the family." She smiled, feeling pride at how learned she was.
"Not all the males died." Toyne said with a hint of pride. "This here is Viserys Blackfyre. Son of Daemon Blackfyre, brother to Serra Blackfyre, the wife to be of prince Rhaegar."
"My lady." The boy bowed, speaking in perfect Tyroshi. "I apologize on behalf of my hand for the sudden announcement of these news."
"Indeed," Toyne said, "with the stakes being so high, we had to keep this plan an utmost secret. Now then, your husband states he and his whole family including you will convert to the faith, slavery will be abolished in Tyrosh. Then our prince here will marry your daughter to seal this alliance of ours. of course, this marriage will not be consummated until she is of age."
"And in return?"
"Your husband will be King of Tyrosh, with the steel of both the whites and the Golden company behind him. And when he is gone, Viserys will be King, and your daughter Queen, and some of their sons will rule Tyrosh, and the firstborn will go home with us."
Queen, she recalled the story of the last person declaring himself king of Tyrosh being brutally killed. But he didn't have the weight of the Golden company behind him and the fervor of the soon to be freed slaves. She looked at her husband then her soon to be son in law. He wasn't bad looking, and he seemed like he had a good head on his shoulders. "What about my family? The other Celeys and our associates?"
"If they cooperate their status, estates and property will be preserved, we will even provide monetary compensation for their slaves. If they don't, well I'm sure you know what our motto is right?"
"Beneath the gold, the bitter steel."
"Clever girl." He smiled. "Now then, let's get started."
--
In normal times, the grounds outside the palace of the archons was meant for the citizens to listen to proclamations from the archons. Declarations of war or peace treaties, new laws and decrees, even the appointment of citizens to high positions within the government such as the high judges.
But today it would be different. Viserys stood behind the soon to be king and Queen of Tyrosh. He glanced to his left at his wife, the Lady Laena Celeys, a girl of barely 4. At his right Stood Illyrio, his closest friend and in front of him Captain General Toyne. He glanced back at the palace proper then at the manses and buildings around it, it's almost time.
He glanced at the courtyard proper, it was filled with the wealthiest and most influential citizens. Reds, blues, and greens were gathered, while the gold and whites were in position. As the last of the dignitaries showed up, two of the unsullied guards Adarys had came up on stage bearing trumpets and played them as loudly as possible, with that, the courtyard went quiet.
"Friends, citizens of Tyrosh." Adarys began, the confidence in his voice seemingly restored. "These last 10 years, Tyrosh has reached the apex of it's glory!"
A few moments later, several carts entered the courtyard, escorted by cavalry from the Golden company led by Merwyn Peake. The carts bore treasures and tribute Lys and Myr gave to the city after it's most recent peace treaty. "Since Valyria has fallen, we have endlessly squabbled with Lys and Myr for control of the disputed lands. But no more. Lys and Myr have finally announced their renouncing of their claims within most of the disputed lands." The carts stopped, "behold, the treasure the cowardly Lysene and Myrmen have given us!" The citizens gawked at the treasure, even some of the reds were impressed.
"However." Adarys began, "this does not mean we must keep our guards down. Rather, we must be ever vigilant, building up our lands, settling more men, and making sure our gains are permanent. Which is why the Golden company has come to us with the opportunity of a lifetime. Behold!"
Adarys turned and pointed to him, he looked to Illyrio for a moment. "Wish me luck Mopatis," he said as he walked up to Adarys who took him by his right hand and lifted it up to the air.
"This here, is Viserys Blackfyre. The son of Daemon Blackfyre, cousin to my late friend Maelys from the Golden company. And my daughter Laena." He pointed to her. "Has joined Viserys here in marriage! The Golden company will no longer be a mere sellsword company, they will be the army of Tyrosh!"
The courtyard broke into confused mumbling and audible gasps. "In light of this!" Adarys continued. "I have resolved to end the violence and unrest in the city and in the mainland! As such! In order to ensure the security and continuing stability of Tyrosh, the Archonate, shall be reorganized, into the first! Tyroshi! Kingdom! For a safe, and secure, society!"
The courtyard was lulled into silence, a few moments later, the doors of the manses and buildings around the palace burst open. Hundreds of heavily armored men from the Golden company and White Sparrows emerged, encircling the courtyard and drawing their weapons. "Any who have anything to say feel free to do so." Adarys said as a smug smile took over his face.
"Wake up!" A familiar voice quietly hissed at her. She turned and saw the face of her husband Alequo Adarys, the Tyrant of Tyrosh. There was fear in his face, she'd never seen him this way before and for a moment she felt apprehension as well.
She sat up on her bed, glancing at him then at the window behind him. "It's not even dawn yet, what are you up to?" She never cared for matters of state, leaving that for the men in her family to take care of. She would rather walk in the high gardens of the inner city with her cousins and fellow nobles of the old blood while sharing stories or entertaining them with her harp and singing.
But after their family bound themselves to Adarys everything changed. Her old friends and even some of her extended family shunned her and her immediate family. "Traitors" she could hear them say as she walked the city under heavy guard. She missed her old life, they may not have been the richest family within the inner city, but they had what they needed, they weren't starving to death on the streets or disgraced like many others had. But that was in the past, for her family to prosper she needed to stay by his side and give him heirs, Baela and Jacaera, her twins sired by him and her heart and soul.
He had other sons before, when he was married to the Otherys clan, but after their scheme they were all put to the sword. The sons shared a kinder fate according to her father, wine laced with sweetsleep, a merciful death compared to what their mother and kin faced. When she first held them she vowed to let anything happen to her daughters. A moment later her daughters walked into the room while rubbing the sleep from their eyes. They were under an escort of 10 unsullied that she could make out just outside their chambers. They were dressed in the usual red silk dresses used to represent the women of their faction. "What is happening?" She turned to her husband. "Why are they here?"
She feared the worst, was her family going down the path of the Otherys? She looked around for a moment, seeing if there was anything she could use for a weapon. "We need to leave the palace immediately." Her husband replied, looking around for a moment as if he was afraid anyone asides from him and the guards would hear it.
"Why?" She stood from the bed, Going to her nightstand and ringing a bell to call for her slaves so she could get changed into her attire for the day.
"Because by the time the sun sets war will have broken out in the city." He said with a tone of resignation in his voice.
She felt her heart drop for a moment, her old friends in the inner wall, her family. She had so many questions to ask. "I will explain on the way, but we must get you to safety."
"Where?"
"The Golden Quarter."
A few moments later the door opened and their slaves came in, handing her and her husband their clothes and helping them change into it. Once they were finished her husband turned to them, "thank you, you may go."
The slaves left the room and he turned back to face her. Her husband was changed into, a simple purple silk vest and a black tunic, followed by fine leather shoes. She on the other hand was changed into a simple and long grey dress made of silks.
"We need to get to the gates as soon as possible. Time is of the essence." They marched through the palace, the Mentyri and the unsullied were running around, barricading the windows and any doors that could be used as entrances, she even spotted a few members of the golds with them.
Though she didn't care for matters of state her father made sure to educate her on the state of their faction once she became wife to Adarys. They were of the old blood, that much she knew, descendants of the original founders of Tyrosh who could trace their descent to the freehold.
But as their family fell on hard times they became the lowest of the old blood. Though their heritage afforded them a place within the inner city they were barely any better than the freeborn and the freedmen when it came to their living standards, with some of the slaves within the government living better lives than them.
Now that they betrayed and helped Adarys cast down the Otherys and the other 5 main families that led the old blood they were officially in charge of the reds. But it was a house of cards according to father. Though they had greater wealth and status than the Otherys they became outcasts within the inner city, their manse being relocated to one near the gates that led to the outer city.
That manse was more of an armed camp than a place to live in. Golds occupied the manse, along with many if the poorer families of the inner city. Rather than serving as the heads of the red, they were their wardens, crushing any red that dared to defy Adarys. The more prosperous of the reds and the remaining powerful families viewed them as traitors and they showed it, murdering their private soldiers and any golds that dared to wonder off alone in the inner city as well as the outer. Her father forbid her from walking around the inner city, being forced to see the gardens from within a carriage under armed guard. Yet even then she saw the contempt and hatred they held for her, even her old friends whom she shared laughs, sang for and cried over heartbreak didn't dare look at her anymore.
And now my old world would soon turn to ashes. As they left the palace she spotted several carriages with darkened windows outside the palace. Each of them bore the sigil of the archon and had unsullied guards ready to escort them along with drivers ready to take them across the city.
Her husband pointed to the nearest carriage he saw, nodding to the driver as he opened the door and let her and her daughters in. Once he was seated, the whips used to urge the horses on rang, and the horseman from his carriage barked out orders. "Move out!"
She felt the carriage moving, and looked out from the tinted windows as they left the palace. Sne saw them scatter in various directions. She could feel them, the old guard watching, their spies around the palace most likely warning them that her family was on the move. She looked at every building their carriage passed, afraid they knew where they were. "Do not fret too much," her husband said. "I've been been moving like this these last few months, ever since we began to set everything in motion."
"Set what in motion?"
"That." He said as he pointed to a vandalized temple of the Trios that they were passing.
The city had only devolved into more chaos by then. The White Sparrows had been fighting with the members of other faiths in the street. She held court with her husband, being all too aware of the tensions these last few months. One day a Sparrow would be bought to trial and executed for killing a follower of the various faiths in the city or be whipped for vandalizing a temple. Then the next day a follower of the various faiths of Tyrosh would be found guilty of the same and suffer the same punishment.
"I've been begun funneling my personal funds to Aereo, the stars now are a military force on their own. I've also turned a blind eye to the septons coming from Westeros."
"Are you mad?!" She hissed at him. Her father told her of the delicate balance her husband held between the old and new guards; the reds, blues and greens from the days before Adarys took over against the whites and golds, the foreign barbarians and their newly freed slaves that aligned with them. And now her husband was confessing to throwing it all away and fully aligning with the new guard. She wanted to tell her father, to run away from Tyrosh with her daughters and family. She understood why her husband was so afraid.
"What choice do I have?" He shrugged. "The Old Guard wants me to cast the whites and golds out because of their threat to their power, but it's because of them that I won Tyrosh so many victories and new territories."
He wasn't wrong, the differences between the old guard and the new were irreconcilable. But while they faced Myr and Lys they could be united under the threat of a common enemy as her father told her. Now however those enemies were gone, and their incompatibility was becoming clearer each day. But she felt something was wrong, he was the Silvertongue. If he chose to do something it was always because he clearly benefitted from it. These actions sounded like a man out of options. "You're hiding something." She said. "Even if you made your choice on who to back. You wouldn't just rush in like this. What's going on."
Her husband started laughing. "This is why I hate clever women. Especially clever women with a pretty face."
She felt flattered by this but she only scoffed. "Skip the flattery, what happened?"
"The golds, they made me an offer I couldn't refuse."
"What was it?"
"You'll see once we arrive."
The carriage came to a stop. The unsullied walking around the cart jumped on the sides and raised their shields with one hand. "We're at the ghost line." The driver said as he whipped his horses and they moved forwards. The ghost line had been the result of these tensions between the new and old guard. The streets between the Golden quarter and the rest of the city had become abandoned recently as the fighting wore on, with it being declared the ghost line, the line separating them from the rest of the city.
She felt tension in her stomach as they entered the ghost line. Crossbowmen and archers from both sides lined the ghost line, shooting any slave that tried running to the Golden quarter from Tyrosh proper or defending the Golden quarter from any would-be Interlopers. Fortunately many in the city still respected her husband's title or archon, unwilling to wage direct violence on him for now.
As the carriage arrived in the Golden Quarter as the inhabitants had referred to, she saw some of the fruits of her husband's efforts in aiding the whites. The White Sparrows, formerly a bunch of rag tag slaves with limited arms and funding seemed more and more like a real army, with even the lowest of them now wielding boiled leather and chainmail armor with a shield and forge-quality shortswords.
Their carriage stopped in front of a large sept. He opened the door, descending from his carriage and helping them down. They walked up to the door of the Sept, which was lined with over 50 heavily armed men in plate armor bearing sword and shields. "The White Falcons." Her husband said. "They're the elite troops of the White Sparrow himself. That's who we are meeting with." She heard tales of the Sparrow from her father, a madman and religious zealot who roused the freedmen as well as the slaves within the city. She only heard rumors on what he looked like, some claimed the white Sparrow wasn't even a man, but a beautiful woman who served as a Septa, others that he was an old man worn by his years, and others that he didn't exist at all and that it was a pseudonym for Aereo, the head of the whites.
A moment later, the captain of the White Falcons presented himself. He was a bear of a man almost 7 feet tall. "Archon." He said as he pointed to the Sept. "He is waiting inside, you may proceed." As if on que, the White Falcons parted and opened a path for them and they made their way inside.
The Sept was filled with the heavily armed men of the White Falcons who stared at them. On the altar proper there were 4 people waiting for them. She recognized Toyne, the leader of the whites, and Aereo the leader of the whites. The other two she didn't recognize, one was a short man who was barely skin and bones and wore a simple white tunic. And the other was what looked like a teenager of Valyrian descent and wearing plate armor. As she stepped up to the altar with her husband he whispered to her. "Bow your head." Her husband whispered to her and she did so.
"Welcome Archon, before we start, is there anything you need of us?" The short man asked.
"No." He shook his head, "We came to all the terms I asked for when we swore the oath the night I delivered the sword to your boy king. I will give myself to your faith, and you will take Tyrosh from the grip of the old guard and fully give it to me."
"What?" She turned to him, "you're converting to the 7?"
Toyne couldn't help but laugh as she pointed at her. "You know Adarys I knew you were a sneaky cunt, but to keep all this even from your wife."
"Language Toyne." The short man hissed at him.
"Sorry your Holyness." He said in an embarrassed tone. The man then looked at her.
"And you." She turned to the short man, "are you the White Sparrow?"
"A pompous name yes," he nodded as he walked up to her and her husband." He was short, shorter than even her by a few inches. He was bone skinny, with thinning hair but a youthful face, she felt as if she was talking to a boy in a sense. "Many in your city call me by that name. But I too was born from a mother like you all, and of a father who sired me, my name was Erryk, but once I gave myself to the faith I became one of its many servants. Call me what you like."
"Well then Erryk, I want to know what you all did to turn my husband from the Silvertongue into your whimpering and fearful servant. It seems I haven't been informed of your little intrigue."
"Toyne." The White Sparrow turned to him. "you were the one that set this in motion. Take some responsibility and tell her."
"It seems it's time Viserys." He turned to the boy in armor and bid him to come forward. "I'll keep it brief, do you know why the Golden Company was established my lady?"
"Because you tried to overthrow the Targaryens in Westeros and failed, but after the last war the last male Blackfyre died, and the last 2 women are married into the family." She smiled, feeling pride at how learned she was.
"Not all the males died." Toyne said with a hint of pride. "This here is Viserys Blackfyre. Son of Daemon Blackfyre, brother to Serra Blackfyre, the wife to be of prince Rhaegar."
"My lady." The boy bowed, speaking in perfect Tyroshi. "I apologize on behalf of my hand for the sudden announcement of these news."
"Indeed," Toyne said, "with the stakes being so high, we had to keep this plan an utmost secret. Now then, your husband states he and his whole family including you will convert to the faith, slavery will be abolished in Tyrosh. Then our prince here will marry your daughter to seal this alliance of ours. of course, this marriage will not be consummated until she is of age."
"And in return?"
"Your husband will be King of Tyrosh, with the steel of both the whites and the Golden company behind him. And when he is gone, Viserys will be King, and your daughter Queen, and some of their sons will rule Tyrosh, and the firstborn will go home with us."
Queen, she recalled the story of the last person declaring himself king of Tyrosh being brutally killed. But he didn't have the weight of the Golden company behind him and the fervor of the soon to be freed slaves. She looked at her husband then her soon to be son in law. He wasn't bad looking, and he seemed like he had a good head on his shoulders. "What about my family? The other Celeys and our associates?"
"If they cooperate their status, estates and property will be preserved, we will even provide monetary compensation for their slaves. If they don't, well I'm sure you know what our motto is right?"
"Beneath the gold, the bitter steel."
"Clever girl." He smiled. "Now then, let's get started."
--
In normal times, the grounds outside the palace of the archons was meant for the citizens to listen to proclamations from the archons. Declarations of war or peace treaties, new laws and decrees, even the appointment of citizens to high positions within the government such as the high judges.
But today it would be different. Viserys stood behind the soon to be king and Queen of Tyrosh. He glanced to his left at his wife, the Lady Laena Celeys, a girl of barely 4. At his right Stood Illyrio, his closest friend and in front of him Captain General Toyne. He glanced back at the palace proper then at the manses and buildings around it, it's almost time.
He glanced at the courtyard proper, it was filled with the wealthiest and most influential citizens. Reds, blues, and greens were gathered, while the gold and whites were in position. As the last of the dignitaries showed up, two of the unsullied guards Adarys had came up on stage bearing trumpets and played them as loudly as possible, with that, the courtyard went quiet.
"Friends, citizens of Tyrosh." Adarys began, the confidence in his voice seemingly restored. "These last 10 years, Tyrosh has reached the apex of it's glory!"
A few moments later, several carts entered the courtyard, escorted by cavalry from the Golden company led by Merwyn Peake. The carts bore treasures and tribute Lys and Myr gave to the city after it's most recent peace treaty. "Since Valyria has fallen, we have endlessly squabbled with Lys and Myr for control of the disputed lands. But no more. Lys and Myr have finally announced their renouncing of their claims within most of the disputed lands." The carts stopped, "behold, the treasure the cowardly Lysene and Myrmen have given us!" The citizens gawked at the treasure, even some of the reds were impressed.
"However." Adarys began, "this does not mean we must keep our guards down. Rather, we must be ever vigilant, building up our lands, settling more men, and making sure our gains are permanent. Which is why the Golden company has come to us with the opportunity of a lifetime. Behold!"
Adarys turned and pointed to him, he looked to Illyrio for a moment. "Wish me luck Mopatis," he said as he walked up to Adarys who took him by his right hand and lifted it up to the air.
"This here, is Viserys Blackfyre. The son of Daemon Blackfyre, cousin to my late friend Maelys from the Golden company. And my daughter Laena." He pointed to her. "Has joined Viserys here in marriage! The Golden company will no longer be a mere sellsword company, they will be the army of Tyrosh!"
The courtyard broke into confused mumbling and audible gasps. "In light of this!" Adarys continued. "I have resolved to end the violence and unrest in the city and in the mainland! As such! In order to ensure the security and continuing stability of Tyrosh, the Archonate, shall be reorganized, into the first! Tyroshi! Kingdom! For a safe, and secure, society!"
The courtyard was lulled into silence, a few moments later, the doors of the manses and buildings around the palace burst open. Hundreds of heavily armored men from the Golden company and White Sparrows emerged, encircling the courtyard and drawing their weapons. "Any who have anything to say feel free to do so." Adarys said as a smug smile took over his face.
Tta160
Getting sticky.
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Lys and myr are trying to make alliance with targareyn and they are going to committing in alliance instead of alliance of convenience.
Because both of free city and targareyn has a common enemy together with enemy on inside they are going to fight the blackfyre.
And Aerys want to fight blackfyre again because if he cannot do any ambitious building he is going to fight against blackfyre.
Because both of free city and targareyn has a common enemy together with enemy on inside they are going to fight the blackfyre.
And Aerys want to fight blackfyre again because if he cannot do any ambitious building he is going to fight against blackfyre.