The Uncrowned Heir: An Aerea Targaryen Quest

Vote closed. It seems you are running up against King Jaehaerys the Concilator. Good luck.

The first proper update (Arrival at Dragonstone, pre-Round 1) will be posted shortly, and the character sheet will be established while you are discussing the decisions to take.

The last leg of your journey back to Westeros proved to be arduous. Nobody would believe yet another dragon sighting in the air west of Valyria, but the Narrow Sea was the busiest sea in the whole Known World. If several ships were corroborating sightings of a gigantic black dragon, word would get out not only to Braavos and Pentos and Tyrosh, but also to King's Landing. Jaehaerys would be given ample warning in that case.

Which is why you had decided to fly as high as possible. Even then, it was probably impossible to avoid sightings at all, especially on clear days, but single sightings would make merely for rumours, which would take longer to reach the Red Keep. But consequently, you were flying in the miserable cold again, without landing.

You could never have imagined that you would one day be glad to see that miserable rock with grass that was Dragonstone from the distance.

Having made a small curve, you were coming in from the northeast, as far away from Dragonstone's land side as possible. Balerion became notably more lively when you two first spotted the island, and even more so as he came ever closer to Dragonmont, the central volcano of the island. With the castle on the southwest side, you had to fly over the volcano and most of the island in general. It was still as dreary as you remembered it, just rocks and grass and single farmsteads, with all true villages being on the coast, and you already thought to smell the odour of sulfur so typical for the island. But at least it was dry land, and right now you weren't asking for much more.

Dragonstone castle itself was a wonder of architecture. Objectively you could recognize that as a fact, though having lived there for some years you considered that doing more bad than good. Built out of fused black stone as the Valyrians had been able to produce, it had been given the form of a coiling dragon – the thick outer walls were in fact one giant dragon sculpture, with the mouth of its outward looking face being the gate, and the arching tail end leading to Aegon's Garden, the closest equivalent the castle had to a godswood. And it was by no means the only dragon shape to be found on the castle. The large tower at Dragonstone's seaside was literally watching out over the ocean, being formed like a rising dragon doing so, and one could find statues of dragons or ther things shaped like them all over the place.

All of it made out of fused black stone. All now a completely lost art, and nowhere were its products still so artful as here.

You had always hated it. It was a marvel to behold when just visiting, but living around the shrieking faces of monsters day in day was a serious mood dampener. Even several of mother's women had said so as well. But this was in fact the seat of House Targaryen. Even with the King residing in the Red Keep, Dragonstone was the soul and heart of the House, where dragons were raised and the ashes of dead members were returned to. It was a place of immense symbolic value.

It was, of course, completely impossible to hide the arrival of a dragon. By the time you descended towards the castle, you could see people had already assembled in the great courtyard, inside the middle walls but just outside the inner walls. It was the only place in the castle a dragon as large as Balerion could land. There were many people just gawking – you imagined that most simple servants had come to watch as well. But within that outer ring of people you could see some figures in finer clothing, surrounded by mens-at-arm. As you came closer you counted about 30 dignitaries and guards, and then you realized the one or two dozen archers on the walls, too – all with drawn bows, heads following your approach.

Fortunately, nobody was stupid enough to challenge your approach. There was only one black dragon of this immense size in the world, and people knew whom it belong to. But you supposed you couldn't fault them for being careful. You had been away for nearly two years after all.

So Balerion could land in a nearly completely emptied courtyard, the people in it all squeezing themselves to the surrounding walls as well as possible. Only when Balerion's giant wings weren't flapping anymore did some of them come forward. However, you didn't even regard them. What was on your mind was a feeling, a sensation you caught from Balerion through your shared link. Balerion was exhausted, and wanted to rest. He was back home, and different to you, he loved it here. He wanted to rest at the Dragonmont, frolic over its slopes, catch some beasts and some fish by itself.

You could certainly understand that, though at least part of you did want to keep him close. There was no telling how things would turn out here. You were... there was no denying it, after two years of absence you were nervous, and you did not know what would expect you. Might you still have need of a dragon closer nearby?

---

Do you let Balerion roam Dragonstone Island?

[] [Balerion]Yes, let him rest and recover
[] [Balerion] No, keep him close to the castle

---

Either way, for now people were getting far too close to let him safely (for them) take flight again anyway. As soon as his wings had stopped to flap, even while he was still folding them on his back, you began the not entirely uncomplicated descent from his massive body, along his neck and shoulder. Since Balerion had not worn riding gear when you had claimed him and he had simply flown off, this was an exercise pretty akin to cliff climbing. It was a good thing your body had become so well trained in your absence.

The dignitaries and the guards approached you with hurried step but still warily. You could see their faces being full of surprise. You recognized some of them, though not all. What appeared to be the Maester (not Maester Anselm), strangely enough) and knight with Valyrian features had eyes large as plates. You supposed your looks would indeed be shocking to them – maybe even frightening.

There was the issue of your sheer height. You knew you had grown but... Last time you had seen knights, you had looked up into all of their faces, and that was just normality. Now, you could see at least the front top of all their heads. As the people came closer came closer you realized with quite some surprise on your own side that you were larger than any of them.

But there was also the matter of what you were wearing. When you had climbed atop Balerion for the first time, what you had worn had basically been outdoors clothes for a noble boy. You had worn dresses usually, but for that occession you had just chosen what seemed most practical in order to approach dragons on Dragonmont's slopes, and your mother really hadn't cared all too much about social etiquette in those matters. That clothing had hold during your miserable time above the Shivering Sea, but it had eventually gone quite threadbare. Instead, you had helped yourself to looted Dothraki clothes in the Grass Sea. Including furs. Lots and lots of ill-fitting, only roughly processed furs to keep you warm during your high-up dragon flights.

So you wore brown leather trousers, a broad leather vest in the same colour, and then a whole array of black and brown furs fitted to your body. And since you had found little in the way of bags on your journey, you were wearing all your treasures on your person – two swords in badly damaged metal scabbards on your belt, plus knives without sheath, and a crown on your head.

And then of course, there was Balerion himself. As you were going down his wings, the Black Dread had its scaly neck raised, and was now looking at the people below him, in front of you. Several of the guards were not even watching you, but were looking up in sheer terror.

Considering all that, you hoped people would even still recognize you. You hadn't even thought about it before, but you were basically appearing like some barbarian horselord in front of them, and with a dragon to scare them all half to death. Not like you really had held a choice in that matter, and it would probably have been worse King's Landing.

Out of the assembled men, one stepped forward soon after your feet had touched the ground. His seagreen tunic with the silver seahorse made it clear what house he belonged to, though features weren't fully Valyrian anymore: He sported some of the finest silver hair you had ever seen, not silver-blond as so often, but indeed pure silver-white... but there was no lilac or purple in his eyes anymore, "just" blue.

He had been castellan already before you had left. Even while your mother had lived here, she had not really cared to actually govern the fief. Instead, she had installed this man as castellan – Ser Daerys Velaryon. As you had later learned through gossip among her favourites, the older brother of her very first favourite, Larissa Velaryon.

"Princess... welcome back to Dragonstone." Daerys bowed his upper body.

"It is..." you coughed. Huh. It had been a long time since you had spoken at all. Some more coughing that had the men look concerned. "My, ah, apologies. It is good to be back, Ser Daerys."

There was, after all, much to do.

...though the question was, how much of that did you want to tell them? These were your mother's men, but Rhaena had always been a distant ruler, not mingling with her servants or soldiers or even officials much at all. And the castle's previous lord had been much loved – King Jaehaerys during his minority and the regency years.

The Westerosi sense of loyalty dictated that any one of them should be loyal to their direct liege first and foremost, and that that sense of loyalty should also extend to the liege's family members. And after Elissa Farman's betrayal, your mother had all but purged Dragonstone and installed new faces, many of them the brothers of her favourites, just like Daerys had been as well.

But Jaehaerys was well loved, and if nothing else... even if you kept everything behind closed doors, the risk of a servant hearing could never be fully eliminated (though of course, contrary to some common conceptions, nearly all servants were not in fact spies). It would be helpful if you could openly discuss your plans with your mother's men, though. If nothing else, you needed guidance. You had no knowledge in politics and had missed all news from Westeros the last two years.

---

Your aim is to eventually raise a claim to the throne, either now or later. Are you open about that intention with your mother's men, at least behind closed doors?

[] [Intention] Yes
[] [Intention] No

---

Though something more urgent was on your mind for now anyway. "What about my mother, Ser Daerys? Has she taken ill?"

The Velaryon looked a bit uncomfortable. "After your departure... Princess.." He sighed. "The last years have not been kind to her. Your royal mother has taken to travelling the realm, and reports indicate that for now she resides on Greenstone."

You... blinked. "Greenstone?" As bad as Dragonstone was, if there was one castle in all of Westeros which was most associated with the word 'damp', it would have been the island seat of House Estermont. "That seems a curious place to end up on."

"My niece married the Estermont heir, now the Lord of Greenstone, and my sister has since moved there as well," Ser Daerys explained.

"...ah." That would explain it. Behind you, above you, you could hear the sound of exhaled air, almost as if Balerion were snorting. Your mother was visiting her first flame... though she never went back to former favourites. This was odd.

Still, you were strangely relieved that you wouldn't have to face your mother after all. At least not for now. Of course maybe that just meant you would be all the more anxious later.

-5 Stress

"Are you...well, Princess?" It was the Maester who had spoken up. He was a lot younger than old Maester Culliper, younger even than Culliper's replacment Maester Anselm who had last held the office when you had left, a man in his thirties with unassuming face and even more unassuming short-cut brown hair. He was coming forward as if wanting to inspect you, and to his credit, he seemed to value your wellbeing more than his safety, as he apparently ignored the house-high (tower-high at the neck) dragon behind you entirely.

You waved him off gently. "I am fine, truly. A lot has happened to me, obvious, but I do not feel ill and I am not injured, thank the Seven."

The Maester nodded. "Then I shall send a raven to Greenstone forthwith. Your royal mother will want to know of your arrival. The one good news after all the hardship of the past two years."

"Wait!" You tell the Maester, who had already turned to go. He turned his head back to you, awaiting what you had to say. "About the ravens..."

Maybe it was wiser that nobody should know of your arrival just yet. Or maybe it was best if you already raised the issue of your better claims right now. It might be a bit premature, but in the end such a conflict would probably come down to dragons and you had Balerion after all.

---

Do you want Ravens to be sent out at all at this point?

To King's Landing
[] [King's Landing] Let the Maester send a raven
[] [King's Landing] Send a raven yourself to King Jaehaerys, raising your better rights to the throne
[] [King's Landing] Order that no raven be sent to King's Landings

(yes, you can do that, you are the heir of the fief holder)

To Greenstone
[] [Greenstone] Let the Maester send a raven
[] [Greenstone] Pen a letter yourself, announcing your return in your own words
[] [Greenstone] Pen a letter yourself, telling your Mother that issues need to be discussed
[] [Greenstone] Order that no raven be sent to Greenstone

To elsewhere
[] [Elsewhere] Do not send ravens elsewhere
[] [Elsewhere] Send ravens to the houses of Blackwater Bay, inviting them to come to Dragonstone
[] [Elsewhere] Let the Maester send ravens far and wide to announce your return and the better claims to the throne you have
[] [Elsewhere] Explicitly order that no ravens be sent out elsewhere

---

The Maester nodded at your instructions.

"Best let us get inside all the same, Princess," Ser Daerys suggested. "Your old room has been kept unused. I shall send servants to bring you proper garments and prepare a bath and meal, and to find a safe place for..." He hesitated slightly, apparently unsure what to call so much Valyrian steel. "...your valuables."

You nodded. There was much to be done, but a bath and a meal sounded just about fantastic right now. And after everyone either followed you inside, you could hear Balerion's wing flapping in some distance behind you.

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This vote is issue by issue voting. No plan votes. Write-ins are per se allowed, but need to be approved by me.