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Just found this and binge read through it. Enjoying it so far. Very introspective, and it looks to be headed for a clash sometime in the future.
I'm eager to see where this will go
I'm eager to see where this will go
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A Queen's Conquest (ASOIAF SI)
- Thread starter Widowmaker
- Start date
Chapter Five: Drinks and a Meeting
"To everlasting victory!"
I laughed as our glasses clinked together and I downed my fifth glass of wine. Tonight, I had let myself actually try wine, it was Rhaenys' idea to mix a fine undiluted Arbor red with a watered down yellow wine from New Ghis, and it tasted… sweet and sour at the same time. Rich like no juice I'd ever had, and part of me realized I'd missed this. My worries had flowed away with the wine as it went down. Sweeter than honey.
It had been two days since I arrived back at Aegon's glorified army camp he and his men called his "Aegonfort". Palisades had been raised, and though the beginnings of an actual central structure had been completed, the "keep" as we called it was just the command tent belonging to Aegon. Not far from my own, it was a pavilion of purple and scarlet and gold silk, with fine rugs and carpets and all the amenities one could have away from home while at war.
Even at night it was lovely inside, well-lit with lanterns and carefully placed candles casting our shadows and that of various objects against the walls and floor of the tent.
"Tell us about your plans, little brother! You'll have your lords here, and then what?" I laughed as he flashed a smile and raised a closed hand with the index finger pointing skyward. Then brought his hands back down and swept them forward and out, knocking over an empty wine glass.
"We'll have my coronation, here, on the mouth of the Blackwater. In full view of the Westerosi lords and peasants. A king needs an audience, after all." He laughed, and I laughed too. He seemed handsome enough tonight, I almost forgot what he was.
Rhaenys was tidying her hair a tad, brushing a stray strand from out of her face. "Kings need titles too." She downed a half-glass of wine, how many was that now? I couldn't recall. I probably had had more than her, though.
"King of Westeros, maybe. No, for certain." Aegon mumbled loudly.
I chimed in, "King of Kings, there's a fine title, brother!" In my mind's eye I saw him dressed like some kind of Sassanid shah, and I stifled a giggle.
"No, there will be no kings but me. Westerosi kings will bow to me and be lords or be slain and replaced with those who will behave, and that is that." He looked like he was keeping himself composed. I wonder if my face is as flushed as his. I giggled, unable to contain it this time.
"What's so funny, 'Senya?" Rhaenys asked, her long silver hair hanging freely in ringlets, she'd had her hair done today. I liked it a lot. It looked wonderful with the clothes she wore, a silken scarlet shirt with embroidered cuffs and black trousers in the Westerosi style. She wore red shoes with them.
"N-nothing. Just thought of Aegon dressed up like some Yi-Tish Emperor." I lied. When did lying become so easy? I frowned, feeling bad, so I drank a bit more wine.
Aegon looked like he was thinking about it, and laughed. His laugh wasn't so bad. Rhaenys laughed with him.
"I think you'd have looked better in a dress, little sister. Lavender, perhaps. It would fit your lilac eyes better." It really did, or so the image in my mind showed. Dazzling and radiant, I wished I could be like that.
I swirled my drink around and sipped at it. My head dizzier than I remembered it being. I'm probably just buzzed. Giggles burst from me again at the idea. Me. Buzzed. Me drinking at all was funny. What would he think if he could see me? I giggled even more, at the image of my father seeing me as I am now. It'd be awkward as hell.
"So, King of Kings?" I asked after calming myself down.
"No, Visenya, I can not let these Westerosi get ideas. King of Kings, would be saying they are Kings." He shook his head, as if dismissing the very idea completely. His hands at his side, dusting at his cloak, at something I couldn't see. Maybe he got food on himself?
"You do not have to make them kings, it is just a title. Great King, perhaps?" I thought of Cyrus the Great and other rulers from my home's history. G-d, my head felt fuzzy. "It sounds a fine title indeed. High King?" I hummed to myself.
"Why are you so set on this title, sister? I said no already, that should be that." I frowned at him, and breathed in and out slightly. Why does he make things so difficult?
"It is a good title, it is not my fault you could not find a good name even were it to bite you in the ass." I smiled, drinking more and enjoying every drop as they slid down my throat. "Aegonfort? Pfft, that sounds like the name of some little boy's hiding spot. Dumb as shit."
"That was not my name, the men came up with it, I only let them have it." He clenched his fist. A scowl clear on his face. I smiled at him, it felt good.
"So you let a bunch of workmen tell you what to do, but you won't let me give you an actually good name? Of course, what can I expect from you? Taking what you want, and not caring about what others say except when it suits you!" I wanted to slap him, and I didn't know when I'd stood up, the world felt uneven, and I felt slightly sick. Even worse when I felt a pair of hands on me, holding me, and saw they were Aegon's.
"Let go of me!" I frantically pulled, but his grip was stronger than my own, he was stronger than me. I remembered the brush of his lips from back then and I wanted to run, I felt like I was going to wet myself until another hand touched me, on my shoulder, and that calmed me.
It was Rhaenys, and Aegon had let go of me. Rhaenys was holding one of my hands.
I looked down at the glass and with my free hand knocked it off the table. "Your fault."
"'Senya, it is not the fault of the wine that you drank so much." I wanted to scowl at Rhaenys. How dare she take his side. "It is late, and we all need rest." She said, sounding exasperated. I sighed, and clung to the only stable thing in this wobbling world I found myself in.
She dragged me out of the tent, the starlight and moon in the sky lighting the way, I still couldn't get over how clear these skies were. It was truly beautiful. A thousand thousand little lights in the sky, and I felt tears come to my eye at it even as Rhaenys guided me by the arm.
"I'm sorry, I drank too much." I wanted to cry, I felt horrible, "I'm pathetic, Rhaenys. I c-can't even keep a promise not to drink, I'm s-so-" I sicked up, and then again.
Everything was a blur.
So it wasn't a surprise that I smiled when I found myself resting on what felt like the most wonderful thing after being taken to my tent. I assumed it was my own bed. My tummy still hurting slightly, and shaking my head felt uncomfortable.
I barely noticed when darkness claimed me.
------------------------------------
I woke up with the worst headache I could remember having. My tongue was as dry as sandpaper and hanging out and a foul taste on it. The dulled muffled sound of boots on the ground outside filled my head.
I didn't want to open my eyes. My cheeks were hot and my stomach felt as though if I were to move it would roll out on its own. I wanted to fucking die. It's only been two weeks… I can't be dealing with that again. It was different too. Instead of a cold hook in my stomach it was more like a little ship in a storm.
"What the fuck happened…" The words made my head hurt more, but I blew air into my nose, and wanted to throw up at the smell. My limbs felt like they were made of lead, but I dragged myself out from my covers and bed.
Naked? I didn't remember undressing myself the night before. I didn't remember much of anything about the previous night, and normally I dressed in some kind of sleepwear.
My feet touched the comfortable floor of the tent, the carpet and rugs helping sell an illusion that this was something other than a temporary abode. A scent reminded me that I had barely eaten the day before, as far as I could recall.
Opening my eyes I saw the silken walls of my tent. It was still strange to see, and on a nearby stand there was a pitcher of water. Beads of condensation covering its silvery surface. It looked like the finest drink in all the world. Especially when paired with the slices of beef roast, mullet fish, a wedge of cheese and a few thick slices of bread with a side of butter, all on a fine bronze tray.
If it weren't already dried out I imagined my mouth would be watering.
So I drank from a silver cup. Trying to let my head settle, I hadn't had a headache like this since before I'd woken up at Driftmark what seemed years ago right now. I missed my pills. Some thoughts flowed in, memories of what kind of herbs and powder mixes might be used to relieve pain. "I don't know what I'd do without your knowledge of medicine. Ask the physician I suppose." I laughed softly, even as the noise made the pain flare up.
Looking in a nearby mirror of polished silver I saw a woman who looked as bad as I felt. Her hair a mess, her cheeks tinged red and yet her face sickly pale, purple eyes barely focused. That's you. The thought that had come to me every time I'd seen my reflection. "Let's have you cleaned up." I mumbled, then letting more water go down my throat to wash down my meal after I was done.
A wash basin was set out and ready, and while it wasn't the equal of a bath by any means it worked well enough that I could at least clean myself up to face the world without feeling like a completely vile mess.
I summoned and let a servant, a pretty enough young woman, barely more than a girl really, handle my hair. Part of me was surprised at just how used to them aiding me in basic things like that I had become. You're a noblewoman, this is just how things are. I reminded myself, wringing my washed hands.
Dressed in a deep purple linen robe with gold banding below the neck, above the elbow, and the wrists, and gold-trimmed purple shawl draped over my shoulders, I left my tent, two men I didn't recognize guarding the entrance, though I paid them little mind. In the fine robe, I felt almost out of place at the camps. My red shoe clad feet made practically no noise with each step.
I squinted when the first rays of the midday sun hit my eyes, sending a new wave of pain like daggers stabbing behind my eyes. The only comfort was the cool breeze against my face.
The central camp had further walls erected, and the beginnings of a wooden castle were being laid at the center itself nearest Aegon's tent. That would be the Aegonfort itself, I think.
I frowned, I wouldn't let it take decades for a proper palace to be built, and if I had my way the city wouldn't be nearly as much of a mess. Maybe they'll remember me for it. Visions of wide main streets and open marketplaces surrounded by colonnaded buildings, grand aqueducts bringing in water and the city enclosed within strong walls white and gleaming beneath a warm sun filled my mind. For a moment I could see it as if it were truly there, before the familiar hiss of a dragon broke me from my daydream.
What seemed a hundred feet to my left Vhagar was eating some recently roasted bull, green scales reflecting the bright sun and that same distance to my right lay Meraxes content and sleeping, her scales even more dazzling than my Vhagar's.
I felt bad for admitting it. It is not as though Vhagar isn't beautiful. But like her rider compared to me, she just was… prettier, in a way I couldn't define.
As the men and women of the camp worked and went about their tasks, both in the center command camp and those I knew were going on in the other hills, it really did seem more a ramshackle town than a base for war, and though I knew it was not the first time I had noticed it, it was not something that was easy to really… grasp. That men who were doing drills and laughing when they were done, and eating and drinking like it was a normal day would gladly kill others tomorrow if it meant the chance for plunder and personal glory.
Soldiers are scum. I sighed. It is not as though I am any better. I burned men alive. I killed them. And for what? Because I was told to? I hate him, and yet I do as he orders me to. Why? I did not like the answer.
I glanced back to Meraxes. Rhaenys would normally be out flying at this time. At least, that's what she'd done the past few days. Is she well? Part of me thought she was probably with Aegon, then.
So I asked a man at Aegon's own tent if he had seen her with him today perhaps. I was informed that there was a meeting of the lords going on in Aegon's tent.
A meeting. That I hadn't been summoned to.
Part of me bristled at the insult, until I calmed myself. You were hung over. Asleep until well past dawn. Why would you be summoned? I wondered if I might have said something foolish, if I was so drunk the night before that I couldn't remember much of anything. Perhaps I wasn't invited because I had somehow angered everyone else.
My heart pounded in my chest. Did I tell that? I breathed in and out until my heartbeat slowed, even as I stood near to the entrance of Aegon's pavilion. No, if I had, I most certainly wouldn't have been left as free as I was. I'd be locked up. My feet dragged lightly on the grass, the sun hung in the blue sky, golden and shining. What if they do know? If I did say it. If they're discussing how to handle me right now. If I'm too valuable to throw away because of Vhagar. I could see the accusing stare of Rhaenys in my mind. I can't lose you. I felt tugs at the edges of my eyes.
Aegon's tent seemed to cast a larger shadow than it had before.
They might not be expecting you. If there's any clues to be had, you'll find them now. Better now, than when Aegon came and had me thrown in chains for killing his sister and traipsing about in her skin.
My hand on the curtain, I released a breath I hadn't known I had taken and entered into the dragon's den.
"-'s why I have you, Lord Velaryon. Your ships and those of our good Kasereon." Came the voice of Aegon. Smooth and confident as it always was.
The scent of incense was faint, but it was there. As well, candles lit the tent.
A moment later, I realized all eyes were on me and I wanted to hide under a rock. But the part of me that was the real Visenya refused to feel like a skittish child. I found myself standing proudly, tall, as if my head wasn't aching and I hadn't interrupted a meeting I hadn't even been invited to. My braid hung over my shoulder, and I turned a purple eyed gaze over the assembled group. Everyone from Vaeron to Orys was at the table.
Rhaenys was dressed for war as she had been when we had both left days before, though not wearing a scarf. Her expression was not one I could easily read. What did I say last night? I shoved down the feeling of unease.
My… Visenya's uncle, his lilac eyes untouched by any surprise, looked bored, as if my entrance was not worth noting beyond courtesy. Touching a knuckle to his forehead in lieu of bowing his head. You should be kissing the hem of my robe. A part of me wanted to say that out loud. I looked past him to my b- Aegon.
He seemed unphased, worse he seemed almost happy and beckoned me over to the table. On which was set a number of maps.
"Visenya, it is good that you are here." He said, as I walked over to look at whatever it was to sate my curiosity.
"Is that so?" I tried to keep my tone even and neutral.
He just gave me that smile again and laughed. "You have always had the better mind for strategy, sister. Tell me, what do you think our host should do?"
I tilted my head. "Why are you asking?"
He waved his hand almost absently, "A force of five-thousand swords rides to meet us. It seems these Westerosi think to drive us from their shores."
"I could handle five-thousand on Vhagar alone. Is that what your plan is?" Send me out to see if I'm loyal?
"No, Orys will lure them with a detachment from our host and I will show them the maw of Balerion himself." He smiled, looking almost excited at the prospect. Candlelight seemed to dance in his eyes. Just like… I almost dreaded it by now. How things had gone seemingly on-script.
"Lords Darklyn and Mooton?" I asked, and then wanted to kick myself when both recognition and confusion touched Aegon's features.
Aegon glanced at Vaeron with the slightest hint of annoyance, and the youngest Celtigar seemed to almost shrink where he stood. Left hand barely kept from tugging at his sleeve.
"It was not him, Aegon. Leave him out of this." I snapped, not caring that with how sharply I said the words it made my head hurt.
"Archon, I beg your leave." Orys' voice piped up as he bowed his head. He was all courtesies of course, with Aegon. Fucking toady.
My trueborn brother sighed and… shook his head.
"No, I will not have this meeting disrupted so. You will stay, and we will all speak politely. There will be no argument, this I say as Archon of Dragonstone and the lawful head of the Targaryen family." He raised his hand up and then directed me to stand beside our uncle.
I didn't have to listen, of course. So I stood nearer to Aethon instead. Noting that the cloak he bore seemed new, as I hadn't seen it when we were at Driftmark. Black silk, but with silver trim along the edges and embroidered with wave shapes at the bottom. One of these days, I'll get a new cloak.
The silence stretched on for what felt like a minute before my cousin glanced to my uncle, and then back.
"You want us to take the fleet to Duskendale and put it under a blockade while you and Orys put these Sunset lords to rout?" He offered.
"I will have Visenya go with you to deliver news of the defeat of this host to Duskendale, and you will take the ships that are there and return to us within the week." Before Aethon could say another word, Aegon raised a hand and spoke again, "You have ten days, if the winds are not favorable."
"I am not your errand-girl, Aegon." I don't want to do what she did. Why couldn't he have Rhaenys do it instead?
"You are, however, a Targaryen." And he was the head of our household, even if legally, it would be shared. Balerion put any real arguments to rest.
I sighed in response, and looked down at the map. It was fairly detailed, all told. I guess that makes sense, given the Painted Table.. And the fact that dragons exist. It wasn't a modern map by any means, but I could tell the rough area it was supposed to be between where we were and Crackclaw Point.
"Five-thousand swords, you said?" I frowned, and resisted the urge to sigh and wash my hands of this. I will not let him drive me from here, not in front of everyone. I could see how I would be mocked if I left. Aegon may have been Archon, but he was not my king.
"Two-thousand horse both heavy and light, in fact. Three-thousand footmen, or near as to not make a difference. I assume they hired mercenaries to supplement their numbers, no man would be so foolish as to leave his lands undefended." Aegon said casually, yet with a hint of expectation.
I ran my hand across the map's surface, not paying attention to others, trying to picture it; five-thousand men marching across the lands I'd seen from dragonback days ago. Names of castles and towns were written along the map in Common. Some I recalled, others I didn't know if they'd been mentioned in the books, or if knowing them was a case of Visenya knowing and not me. Nevton, Greyfort, Ramshorn, Hayford…
I bit my lip, and tried to avoid glancing up at anyone. The unshaved face of Orys flashed in my mind as I touched a stone meant to mark the presumed location of the enemy, maybe thirty miles south of Duskendale itself as of now.
"I would let them march to here." I pointed at an area north of Rosby, clear of trees, flat plains mostly not far from the coast. "Bring the Lords Rosby and Stokeworth into the fold through battle on your side, wield their men in addition to your own as a reserve. Especially the horses. Bring them in from the sides and north if possible."
"So you would have us… simply outnumber them, then? What then, would you surround them with our greater numbers?" I didn't know if it was Aegon or Aethon who spoke, they might as well have been the same half-buzz in that moment.
I shook my head in response. "No, not surround them. If they're surrounded they will get desperate, and fight all the harder. It might even incentivize our new vassals to turn on your men for the hope of an easy victory through surprise." I rubbed my thumb, index and middle fingers together out of habit. "Leave them a way out, and they will take it. Then close the trap when they are in disarray. Harry the retreating men with our lighter horse. Regardless, that is what I would do." Something about imagining directing a battle, was just… nicer, than having to fight one. If some dragon horns were used to control men, were they ever wielded for the purpose of directing them with a single will in battle?
"Not that it matters, truly. I have Balerion, and they do not. But were we to fight as beasts of the field do, I might indeed take that into advisement." Whatever pride I'd built up in the past few minutes deflated with that single pinprick.
My hands retreated slightly into the sleeves of my robe as I fought back the urge to verbally chew his head off.
"Still, your tactical acumen is why I trust you to return safely with our fleet and take Duskendale itself easily." I could almost feel the smugness radiating off him. "You will leave in the early morning." He said, with that damnable tone of finality. I wanted to punch him.
Looking up, I didn't even bother doing more than muttering a few niceties before leaving the tent to seek out my dragon. My Vhagar. I didn't care that I was afraid of heights, I only wanted to get away for a few hours.
And so I did.
I laughed as our glasses clinked together and I downed my fifth glass of wine. Tonight, I had let myself actually try wine, it was Rhaenys' idea to mix a fine undiluted Arbor red with a watered down yellow wine from New Ghis, and it tasted… sweet and sour at the same time. Rich like no juice I'd ever had, and part of me realized I'd missed this. My worries had flowed away with the wine as it went down. Sweeter than honey.
It had been two days since I arrived back at Aegon's glorified army camp he and his men called his "Aegonfort". Palisades had been raised, and though the beginnings of an actual central structure had been completed, the "keep" as we called it was just the command tent belonging to Aegon. Not far from my own, it was a pavilion of purple and scarlet and gold silk, with fine rugs and carpets and all the amenities one could have away from home while at war.
Even at night it was lovely inside, well-lit with lanterns and carefully placed candles casting our shadows and that of various objects against the walls and floor of the tent.
"Tell us about your plans, little brother! You'll have your lords here, and then what?" I laughed as he flashed a smile and raised a closed hand with the index finger pointing skyward. Then brought his hands back down and swept them forward and out, knocking over an empty wine glass.
"We'll have my coronation, here, on the mouth of the Blackwater. In full view of the Westerosi lords and peasants. A king needs an audience, after all." He laughed, and I laughed too. He seemed handsome enough tonight, I almost forgot what he was.
Rhaenys was tidying her hair a tad, brushing a stray strand from out of her face. "Kings need titles too." She downed a half-glass of wine, how many was that now? I couldn't recall. I probably had had more than her, though.
"King of Westeros, maybe. No, for certain." Aegon mumbled loudly.
I chimed in, "King of Kings, there's a fine title, brother!" In my mind's eye I saw him dressed like some kind of Sassanid shah, and I stifled a giggle.
"No, there will be no kings but me. Westerosi kings will bow to me and be lords or be slain and replaced with those who will behave, and that is that." He looked like he was keeping himself composed. I wonder if my face is as flushed as his. I giggled, unable to contain it this time.
"What's so funny, 'Senya?" Rhaenys asked, her long silver hair hanging freely in ringlets, she'd had her hair done today. I liked it a lot. It looked wonderful with the clothes she wore, a silken scarlet shirt with embroidered cuffs and black trousers in the Westerosi style. She wore red shoes with them.
"N-nothing. Just thought of Aegon dressed up like some Yi-Tish Emperor." I lied. When did lying become so easy? I frowned, feeling bad, so I drank a bit more wine.
Aegon looked like he was thinking about it, and laughed. His laugh wasn't so bad. Rhaenys laughed with him.
"I think you'd have looked better in a dress, little sister. Lavender, perhaps. It would fit your lilac eyes better." It really did, or so the image in my mind showed. Dazzling and radiant, I wished I could be like that.
I swirled my drink around and sipped at it. My head dizzier than I remembered it being. I'm probably just buzzed. Giggles burst from me again at the idea. Me. Buzzed. Me drinking at all was funny. What would he think if he could see me? I giggled even more, at the image of my father seeing me as I am now. It'd be awkward as hell.
"So, King of Kings?" I asked after calming myself down.
"No, Visenya, I can not let these Westerosi get ideas. King of Kings, would be saying they are Kings." He shook his head, as if dismissing the very idea completely. His hands at his side, dusting at his cloak, at something I couldn't see. Maybe he got food on himself?
"You do not have to make them kings, it is just a title. Great King, perhaps?" I thought of Cyrus the Great and other rulers from my home's history. G-d, my head felt fuzzy. "It sounds a fine title indeed. High King?" I hummed to myself.
"Why are you so set on this title, sister? I said no already, that should be that." I frowned at him, and breathed in and out slightly. Why does he make things so difficult?
"It is a good title, it is not my fault you could not find a good name even were it to bite you in the ass." I smiled, drinking more and enjoying every drop as they slid down my throat. "Aegonfort? Pfft, that sounds like the name of some little boy's hiding spot. Dumb as shit."
"That was not my name, the men came up with it, I only let them have it." He clenched his fist. A scowl clear on his face. I smiled at him, it felt good.
"So you let a bunch of workmen tell you what to do, but you won't let me give you an actually good name? Of course, what can I expect from you? Taking what you want, and not caring about what others say except when it suits you!" I wanted to slap him, and I didn't know when I'd stood up, the world felt uneven, and I felt slightly sick. Even worse when I felt a pair of hands on me, holding me, and saw they were Aegon's.
"Let go of me!" I frantically pulled, but his grip was stronger than my own, he was stronger than me. I remembered the brush of his lips from back then and I wanted to run, I felt like I was going to wet myself until another hand touched me, on my shoulder, and that calmed me.
It was Rhaenys, and Aegon had let go of me. Rhaenys was holding one of my hands.
I looked down at the glass and with my free hand knocked it off the table. "Your fault."
"'Senya, it is not the fault of the wine that you drank so much." I wanted to scowl at Rhaenys. How dare she take his side. "It is late, and we all need rest." She said, sounding exasperated. I sighed, and clung to the only stable thing in this wobbling world I found myself in.
She dragged me out of the tent, the starlight and moon in the sky lighting the way, I still couldn't get over how clear these skies were. It was truly beautiful. A thousand thousand little lights in the sky, and I felt tears come to my eye at it even as Rhaenys guided me by the arm.
"I'm sorry, I drank too much." I wanted to cry, I felt horrible, "I'm pathetic, Rhaenys. I c-can't even keep a promise not to drink, I'm s-so-" I sicked up, and then again.
Everything was a blur.
So it wasn't a surprise that I smiled when I found myself resting on what felt like the most wonderful thing after being taken to my tent. I assumed it was my own bed. My tummy still hurting slightly, and shaking my head felt uncomfortable.
I barely noticed when darkness claimed me.
------------------------------------
I woke up with the worst headache I could remember having. My tongue was as dry as sandpaper and hanging out and a foul taste on it. The dulled muffled sound of boots on the ground outside filled my head.
I didn't want to open my eyes. My cheeks were hot and my stomach felt as though if I were to move it would roll out on its own. I wanted to fucking die. It's only been two weeks… I can't be dealing with that again. It was different too. Instead of a cold hook in my stomach it was more like a little ship in a storm.
"What the fuck happened…" The words made my head hurt more, but I blew air into my nose, and wanted to throw up at the smell. My limbs felt like they were made of lead, but I dragged myself out from my covers and bed.
Naked? I didn't remember undressing myself the night before. I didn't remember much of anything about the previous night, and normally I dressed in some kind of sleepwear.
My feet touched the comfortable floor of the tent, the carpet and rugs helping sell an illusion that this was something other than a temporary abode. A scent reminded me that I had barely eaten the day before, as far as I could recall.
Opening my eyes I saw the silken walls of my tent. It was still strange to see, and on a nearby stand there was a pitcher of water. Beads of condensation covering its silvery surface. It looked like the finest drink in all the world. Especially when paired with the slices of beef roast, mullet fish, a wedge of cheese and a few thick slices of bread with a side of butter, all on a fine bronze tray.
If it weren't already dried out I imagined my mouth would be watering.
So I drank from a silver cup. Trying to let my head settle, I hadn't had a headache like this since before I'd woken up at Driftmark what seemed years ago right now. I missed my pills. Some thoughts flowed in, memories of what kind of herbs and powder mixes might be used to relieve pain. "I don't know what I'd do without your knowledge of medicine. Ask the physician I suppose." I laughed softly, even as the noise made the pain flare up.
Looking in a nearby mirror of polished silver I saw a woman who looked as bad as I felt. Her hair a mess, her cheeks tinged red and yet her face sickly pale, purple eyes barely focused. That's you. The thought that had come to me every time I'd seen my reflection. "Let's have you cleaned up." I mumbled, then letting more water go down my throat to wash down my meal after I was done.
A wash basin was set out and ready, and while it wasn't the equal of a bath by any means it worked well enough that I could at least clean myself up to face the world without feeling like a completely vile mess.
I summoned and let a servant, a pretty enough young woman, barely more than a girl really, handle my hair. Part of me was surprised at just how used to them aiding me in basic things like that I had become. You're a noblewoman, this is just how things are. I reminded myself, wringing my washed hands.
Dressed in a deep purple linen robe with gold banding below the neck, above the elbow, and the wrists, and gold-trimmed purple shawl draped over my shoulders, I left my tent, two men I didn't recognize guarding the entrance, though I paid them little mind. In the fine robe, I felt almost out of place at the camps. My red shoe clad feet made practically no noise with each step.
I squinted when the first rays of the midday sun hit my eyes, sending a new wave of pain like daggers stabbing behind my eyes. The only comfort was the cool breeze against my face.
The central camp had further walls erected, and the beginnings of a wooden castle were being laid at the center itself nearest Aegon's tent. That would be the Aegonfort itself, I think.
I frowned, I wouldn't let it take decades for a proper palace to be built, and if I had my way the city wouldn't be nearly as much of a mess. Maybe they'll remember me for it. Visions of wide main streets and open marketplaces surrounded by colonnaded buildings, grand aqueducts bringing in water and the city enclosed within strong walls white and gleaming beneath a warm sun filled my mind. For a moment I could see it as if it were truly there, before the familiar hiss of a dragon broke me from my daydream.
What seemed a hundred feet to my left Vhagar was eating some recently roasted bull, green scales reflecting the bright sun and that same distance to my right lay Meraxes content and sleeping, her scales even more dazzling than my Vhagar's.
I felt bad for admitting it. It is not as though Vhagar isn't beautiful. But like her rider compared to me, she just was… prettier, in a way I couldn't define.
As the men and women of the camp worked and went about their tasks, both in the center command camp and those I knew were going on in the other hills, it really did seem more a ramshackle town than a base for war, and though I knew it was not the first time I had noticed it, it was not something that was easy to really… grasp. That men who were doing drills and laughing when they were done, and eating and drinking like it was a normal day would gladly kill others tomorrow if it meant the chance for plunder and personal glory.
Soldiers are scum. I sighed. It is not as though I am any better. I burned men alive. I killed them. And for what? Because I was told to? I hate him, and yet I do as he orders me to. Why? I did not like the answer.
I glanced back to Meraxes. Rhaenys would normally be out flying at this time. At least, that's what she'd done the past few days. Is she well? Part of me thought she was probably with Aegon, then.
So I asked a man at Aegon's own tent if he had seen her with him today perhaps. I was informed that there was a meeting of the lords going on in Aegon's tent.
A meeting. That I hadn't been summoned to.
Part of me bristled at the insult, until I calmed myself. You were hung over. Asleep until well past dawn. Why would you be summoned? I wondered if I might have said something foolish, if I was so drunk the night before that I couldn't remember much of anything. Perhaps I wasn't invited because I had somehow angered everyone else.
My heart pounded in my chest. Did I tell that? I breathed in and out until my heartbeat slowed, even as I stood near to the entrance of Aegon's pavilion. No, if I had, I most certainly wouldn't have been left as free as I was. I'd be locked up. My feet dragged lightly on the grass, the sun hung in the blue sky, golden and shining. What if they do know? If I did say it. If they're discussing how to handle me right now. If I'm too valuable to throw away because of Vhagar. I could see the accusing stare of Rhaenys in my mind. I can't lose you. I felt tugs at the edges of my eyes.
Aegon's tent seemed to cast a larger shadow than it had before.
They might not be expecting you. If there's any clues to be had, you'll find them now. Better now, than when Aegon came and had me thrown in chains for killing his sister and traipsing about in her skin.
My hand on the curtain, I released a breath I hadn't known I had taken and entered into the dragon's den.
"-'s why I have you, Lord Velaryon. Your ships and those of our good Kasereon." Came the voice of Aegon. Smooth and confident as it always was.
The scent of incense was faint, but it was there. As well, candles lit the tent.
A moment later, I realized all eyes were on me and I wanted to hide under a rock. But the part of me that was the real Visenya refused to feel like a skittish child. I found myself standing proudly, tall, as if my head wasn't aching and I hadn't interrupted a meeting I hadn't even been invited to. My braid hung over my shoulder, and I turned a purple eyed gaze over the assembled group. Everyone from Vaeron to Orys was at the table.
Rhaenys was dressed for war as she had been when we had both left days before, though not wearing a scarf. Her expression was not one I could easily read. What did I say last night? I shoved down the feeling of unease.
My… Visenya's uncle, his lilac eyes untouched by any surprise, looked bored, as if my entrance was not worth noting beyond courtesy. Touching a knuckle to his forehead in lieu of bowing his head. You should be kissing the hem of my robe. A part of me wanted to say that out loud. I looked past him to my b- Aegon.
He seemed unphased, worse he seemed almost happy and beckoned me over to the table. On which was set a number of maps.
"Visenya, it is good that you are here." He said, as I walked over to look at whatever it was to sate my curiosity.
"Is that so?" I tried to keep my tone even and neutral.
He just gave me that smile again and laughed. "You have always had the better mind for strategy, sister. Tell me, what do you think our host should do?"
I tilted my head. "Why are you asking?"
He waved his hand almost absently, "A force of five-thousand swords rides to meet us. It seems these Westerosi think to drive us from their shores."
"I could handle five-thousand on Vhagar alone. Is that what your plan is?" Send me out to see if I'm loyal?
"No, Orys will lure them with a detachment from our host and I will show them the maw of Balerion himself." He smiled, looking almost excited at the prospect. Candlelight seemed to dance in his eyes. Just like… I almost dreaded it by now. How things had gone seemingly on-script.
"Lords Darklyn and Mooton?" I asked, and then wanted to kick myself when both recognition and confusion touched Aegon's features.
Aegon glanced at Vaeron with the slightest hint of annoyance, and the youngest Celtigar seemed to almost shrink where he stood. Left hand barely kept from tugging at his sleeve.
"It was not him, Aegon. Leave him out of this." I snapped, not caring that with how sharply I said the words it made my head hurt.
"Archon, I beg your leave." Orys' voice piped up as he bowed his head. He was all courtesies of course, with Aegon. Fucking toady.
My trueborn brother sighed and… shook his head.
"No, I will not have this meeting disrupted so. You will stay, and we will all speak politely. There will be no argument, this I say as Archon of Dragonstone and the lawful head of the Targaryen family." He raised his hand up and then directed me to stand beside our uncle.
I didn't have to listen, of course. So I stood nearer to Aethon instead. Noting that the cloak he bore seemed new, as I hadn't seen it when we were at Driftmark. Black silk, but with silver trim along the edges and embroidered with wave shapes at the bottom. One of these days, I'll get a new cloak.
The silence stretched on for what felt like a minute before my cousin glanced to my uncle, and then back.
"You want us to take the fleet to Duskendale and put it under a blockade while you and Orys put these Sunset lords to rout?" He offered.
"I will have Visenya go with you to deliver news of the defeat of this host to Duskendale, and you will take the ships that are there and return to us within the week." Before Aethon could say another word, Aegon raised a hand and spoke again, "You have ten days, if the winds are not favorable."
"I am not your errand-girl, Aegon." I don't want to do what she did. Why couldn't he have Rhaenys do it instead?
"You are, however, a Targaryen." And he was the head of our household, even if legally, it would be shared. Balerion put any real arguments to rest.
I sighed in response, and looked down at the map. It was fairly detailed, all told. I guess that makes sense, given the Painted Table.. And the fact that dragons exist. It wasn't a modern map by any means, but I could tell the rough area it was supposed to be between where we were and Crackclaw Point.
"Five-thousand swords, you said?" I frowned, and resisted the urge to sigh and wash my hands of this. I will not let him drive me from here, not in front of everyone. I could see how I would be mocked if I left. Aegon may have been Archon, but he was not my king.
"Two-thousand horse both heavy and light, in fact. Three-thousand footmen, or near as to not make a difference. I assume they hired mercenaries to supplement their numbers, no man would be so foolish as to leave his lands undefended." Aegon said casually, yet with a hint of expectation.
I ran my hand across the map's surface, not paying attention to others, trying to picture it; five-thousand men marching across the lands I'd seen from dragonback days ago. Names of castles and towns were written along the map in Common. Some I recalled, others I didn't know if they'd been mentioned in the books, or if knowing them was a case of Visenya knowing and not me. Nevton, Greyfort, Ramshorn, Hayford…
I bit my lip, and tried to avoid glancing up at anyone. The unshaved face of Orys flashed in my mind as I touched a stone meant to mark the presumed location of the enemy, maybe thirty miles south of Duskendale itself as of now.
"I would let them march to here." I pointed at an area north of Rosby, clear of trees, flat plains mostly not far from the coast. "Bring the Lords Rosby and Stokeworth into the fold through battle on your side, wield their men in addition to your own as a reserve. Especially the horses. Bring them in from the sides and north if possible."
"So you would have us… simply outnumber them, then? What then, would you surround them with our greater numbers?" I didn't know if it was Aegon or Aethon who spoke, they might as well have been the same half-buzz in that moment.
I shook my head in response. "No, not surround them. If they're surrounded they will get desperate, and fight all the harder. It might even incentivize our new vassals to turn on your men for the hope of an easy victory through surprise." I rubbed my thumb, index and middle fingers together out of habit. "Leave them a way out, and they will take it. Then close the trap when they are in disarray. Harry the retreating men with our lighter horse. Regardless, that is what I would do." Something about imagining directing a battle, was just… nicer, than having to fight one. If some dragon horns were used to control men, were they ever wielded for the purpose of directing them with a single will in battle?
"Not that it matters, truly. I have Balerion, and they do not. But were we to fight as beasts of the field do, I might indeed take that into advisement." Whatever pride I'd built up in the past few minutes deflated with that single pinprick.
My hands retreated slightly into the sleeves of my robe as I fought back the urge to verbally chew his head off.
"Still, your tactical acumen is why I trust you to return safely with our fleet and take Duskendale itself easily." I could almost feel the smugness radiating off him. "You will leave in the early morning." He said, with that damnable tone of finality. I wanted to punch him.
Looking up, I didn't even bother doing more than muttering a few niceties before leaving the tent to seek out my dragon. My Vhagar. I didn't care that I was afraid of heights, I only wanted to get away for a few hours.
And so I did.
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Really well done, this was amazing to read.
Will she/he change the tile of Westeros in the future? Since even Martin himself said it was a bad idea of him not to change the Titles of the most powerful lords into Dukes and so on.
Maybe something like
High King (love that idea btw) (The High Kingdom of Westeros, High King of the Seven Kingdoms of the Iron Throne)
Lord Paramounts
Dukes or Marquises or something equivalent = Most powerful lords in each kingdom, so top 5 or so
Counts or Earls or something equivalent = More powerful lords, top 6-25 or so (Karstark, Redfort and so on)
Barons or just Lords = lords like Lord Forrester.
Banns or Lesser Lords = Landed Knights
Will she/he change the tile of Westeros in the future? Since even Martin himself said it was a bad idea of him not to change the Titles of the most powerful lords into Dukes and so on.
Maybe something like
High King (love that idea btw) (The High Kingdom of Westeros, High King of the Seven Kingdoms of the Iron Throne)
Lord Paramounts
Dukes or Marquises or something equivalent = Most powerful lords in each kingdom, so top 5 or so
Counts or Earls or something equivalent = More powerful lords, top 6-25 or so (Karstark, Redfort and so on)
Barons or just Lords = lords like Lord Forrester.
Banns or Lesser Lords = Landed Knights
Thanks. I try.
She doesn't have the authority to do that. She's not the big kahuna.
Oh wow, thanks. I appreciate your thoughts.
Thanks. I try.
She doesn't have the authority to do that. She's not the big kahuna.
Oh wow, thanks. I appreciate your thoughts.
I was thinking more in line with maybe describing the logistical and administrative nightmare with all nobles beneath Lord Paramount and higher than Knight being called Lord.
But yeah, maybe just because she is saying it, makes sure it will not happen. Still exciting chapter=)
Is it really that difficult? Aegon left things mostly to the Lords Paramount (tier) so he didn't have to deal with it. I mean I'm not exactly opposed to more tiers of rank but still.
Thanks. What did you like about the chapter?
Hey all, I'm sorry for not having another chapter up by now. But I've been torn between multiple projects, RL concerns, and the summer heat and humidity with no breeze in an apartment without AC (and me with my heat sensitivity) means I have a tough time writing. But rest assured progress has been made!
As well, I've even gotten more art done for the fic's heroine.
Enjoy, all!
As well, I've even gotten more art done for the fic's heroine.
Enjoy, all!
Rhaenys Targaryen portrait
Have made 300 words of progress so far today. That's one tenth of a small chapter!
In celebration of the Fourth of July (Independence Day), have an art of the younger of the Two Queens!
I hope my readers, both American and otherwise, are enjoying their day!
In celebration of the Fourth of July (Independence Day), have an art of the younger of the Two Queens!
I hope my readers, both American and otherwise, are enjoying their day!
Sorry, I didn't see you question, one the things I liked was the realistic battle planning, as well the slight bonding moment between Aegon, Rhaenys and Visenya. It was nice and almost felt like a glimpse of what could happen in the future. I also liked and would want more political intrigue, and some statesmanship later on maybe, but that might be to much and to tedious to write. Btw, about Aegon asking Visenya if she is pregnant, I wonder if Visenya will become pregnant or not, and if that child would be as "special" as Maegor was.
What I meant with more organised hierarchy is mostly for the support of the Kingdoms in logistics and administration. Since this is a feudal society, it has been proven in history that people both like and need different titles for their "rank" in society, so to distinguish between those lords in the front lines, those with more formal ranks and so on. I thought that maybe Visenya could give him the idea of it, or those titles already exists in this version, or Aegon himself comes up with it. While a bit tedious to create, it would also make it easier for people to realize the importance of some characters or houses. While something as extreme as in real life is not needed, it might be good to know if Lord Humphrey Hughes is a lord of a village with ten warriors or an area the size of Wales with an army of five thousand. If his rank would be Earl or Count we would know he is of middling or if Duke of higher noble rank and so on. This makes it much easier for assessment of rank, status and power of an individual and also for Kings to keep track of their vassals. While Aegon has a hands of approach when ruling, he still did changes, like the Kings Peace, the Small Council and the position of the Kings Hand, and some minor law changes. So I guess it might also be easier for you to keep track and organize everything. But if decide not to do this I would understand too, since in ASOIAF King Aegon didn't change that much of laws and rules in the realms after he became king (although George Martin did say he thought he should have added more titles to separate the Minor Lords from the Lesser Lords and from the Lords and from the Major Lords.).
I hope everything is okay and that your motivation is still going strong, take care=)
What I meant with more organised hierarchy is mostly for the support of the Kingdoms in logistics and administration. Since this is a feudal society, it has been proven in history that people both like and need different titles for their "rank" in society, so to distinguish between those lords in the front lines, those with more formal ranks and so on. I thought that maybe Visenya could give him the idea of it, or those titles already exists in this version, or Aegon himself comes up with it. While a bit tedious to create, it would also make it easier for people to realize the importance of some characters or houses. While something as extreme as in real life is not needed, it might be good to know if Lord Humphrey Hughes is a lord of a village with ten warriors or an area the size of Wales with an army of five thousand. If his rank would be Earl or Count we would know he is of middling or if Duke of higher noble rank and so on. This makes it much easier for assessment of rank, status and power of an individual and also for Kings to keep track of their vassals. While Aegon has a hands of approach when ruling, he still did changes, like the Kings Peace, the Small Council and the position of the Kings Hand, and some minor law changes. So I guess it might also be easier for you to keep track and organize everything. But if decide not to do this I would understand too, since in ASOIAF King Aegon didn't change that much of laws and rules in the realms after he became king (although George Martin did say he thought he should have added more titles to separate the Minor Lords from the Lesser Lords and from the Lords and from the Major Lords.).
I hope everything is okay and that your motivation is still going strong, take care=)
Chapter Six: The Sea Is a Harsh Mistress
Is this really what I'm doing?
I thought to myself not for the first time. Days before I had done as Aegon had asked, without so much as a fight. What would fighting him have accomplished? I sighed.
My gaze set on the shining moon. The stars bright and twinkling as I found constellations Visenya was familiar with. "Was there really another moon at some point?" I asked no one in particular, this late at night, or early in the morning, nobody was on deck save for myself… and Vhagar. I stroked her smooth yet hard scales.
Almost like coals, yet they do not burn. The starlight oh so barely was reflected in them. It was still amazing how many stars there were that I could see.
"You awake, girl?" There was my voice again, it sounded louder than it probably was. I forget, was that a phenomenon of human evolution? Or is it just so quiet in other ways that everything is louder? No answer from Vhagar, but why would there be? She needed sleep too, unlike me she wasn't suffering from a bout of insomnia. Could actually sleep comfortably at sea.
I had tried to sleep before. In a room set aside for my own use and if I were to be completely honest, it was fairly comfortable and pleasing to my eyes. I just couldn't feel comfortable not being close to an escape when at sea. I'd been kept awake by thoughts of the ship sinking while I slept, or of being trapped.
Yet I knew it was beyond irrational to think those things.
I snorted, "I'm a dumb girl, aren't I?" I mumbled in my native tongue. It was nice to speak it, when nobody was around. The ship was large too, probably one of the largest in the fleet, as it was made for allowing dragons to rest at sea. Like fucking aircraft carriers? I laughed a bit louder. It was a silly image.
I stretched my legs, covered by dark trousers. It felt good to stretch a bit after not moving them for a while.
"Did humans even evolve? Or were they just… did they have a more fantasyesque creation?" I felt silly asking, it wasn't as if I'd ever know. Visenya didn't. I liked to think G-d made men here too. Guided the creation of all creatures, in some way. Am I allowed to make a shrine at least? My sister, and the Bible said that He had outlawed any worship or altars to Him outside of Jerusalem and the Temple after its construction. But this world had never known His word, had never had a Temple, and part of me wanted to worship Him more than just… just in prayer. It's a silly idea.
Memories flickered, of a woman whose girlhood was partly spent memorizing the histories of a land that was dead and gone long before her grandfather's grandfather was even born. Of foreign gods who were once held close to the hearts of the exiles and those who shared the blood of Valyria. Hymns and prayers and ceremonies.
I wish I knew my G-d half as well as she seems to have known her own gods.
The wind that caressed my cheeks felt rather refreshing, the sounds of the night and sea and winds mingling in a pleasant manner. I missed the tents, though, the camps and even the stupid Aegonfort-to-be. At least there the ground was firm beneath my feet.
Again I was reminded of the fact that Aegon had ordered me here. I wished I'd been brave enough to tell him to fuck off.
A flash of my brother's face came to my mind. My true brother. His big dumb nose, and those ears that were so big when he was younger. He'd never let folks boss him around, from what I remembered. Is Aegon any less truly your brother? I clenched my fists.
"Miss you." A sigh escaped my lips as I toyed with the clasp of my purple and gold cloak, calming myself.
A few minutes passed, and I groaned as I continued to be unable to sleep despite my best efforts.
My best efforts? I'm the girl that slept on a plane easily, could fall asleep crammed between four people on a couch or cramped vehicle with ease.
I rested against Vhagar more, wondering if she could feel me, or if her scales kept her from really noticing such minor pressure. Or even if she just did not notice me because of sleep. I knew how to command dragons, how to ride and what they needed to eat and what temperatures were best for them, milestones of development and age and a thousand other things. Yet I didn't know the answer to this.
Folding my arms under my breasts I took several deep breaths, slowly and evenly, and I became more aware of the sound of the sea. Of the waves gently smacking against the ship, of the light creaking of the wood, of the night winds.
Doing so, focusing on those sounds and my breathing had done more to make me feel sleepy than anything else had. I could feel my eyelids growing heavier.
Breathing more, I turned my gaze upward to the skies once more, my head tilted to the side. My heart skipped a beat.
Is that?
I looked again. Three stars in sequence. "Orion's Belt." I could not keep the awe from slipping into my voice, nor the feeling of wetness pricking at my eyes. Nor did I want to.
It made my heart hurt. At the same time it felt good. Back home I had always looked for it when I looked at the night skies. So many things were different here, but I had that at least now.
I rested my head on Vhagar, my cheek touching her warm scales, but they were a comfort to me.
What am I going to do with my life after all of this? I'll be Queen… and then what? Avoid Aegon's bed? Hide on Driftmark or Dragonstone? I wanted a city, a shining jewel of my own, to leave something good behind even if I had to do it wearing her face and answering to her name. I wanted it. I wanted it more than anything, to show that I was not Aegon's… that I was not just his wife. The original Visenya did it, sorta. But I want to be better than you, if I can. How do I do that?
I had no answer as sleep soon claimed me.
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I heard the sound of men moving about, of yelling. My back hurt slightly, and I realized my hand was asleep when I tried to move it and felt the sensation of needles.
My eyes opened, and for a moment I tried to recall where I was until I remembered after brushing my hand against my dragon's scales. A large, leathery green curtain surrounded me.
"Wait, that's not a curtain." I mumbled, realizing it was Vhagar's wing. I felt… touched. She'd concealed me with her wing while I slept. "Saving your rider's dignity, eh?" I joked. Rising to my feet and emerging from the cover of her wing.
My hair felt a bit messy, and I noticed the scent of burnt meat that I associated with Vhagar's meals at this point.
Part of me felt like I wanted to hide, because I knew that the moment I left the cover I'd be seen and then folks would know and I would be the center of attention. Another part did not care, and dared them to say one word of insult. I was Archontissa, I was Queen, and I was in command. The dragon does as she pleases.
I wore that part of me like armor as I moved past busy men on a ship's deck and down below into the chambers of the captain here, my chambers now, sparing only a glance for my dragon as her golden-eyed gaze rested on me, blood dripping from her maw as she ate her slaughtered ox, and that feeling, that pride felt more natural than anything else.
An hour later I had emerged freshly cleaned and clothed. Ready to face the world on my own terms.
With the sun shining down from clear skies and the ship, though the slowest in the fleet, making a steady pace with the favorable winds at work I looked out over the… bow? Whatever the fuck the sides of ships were called, I never could remember. I have sailors for that. My cousin's face flashed in my mind's eye. He's a good swordsman, but is that why the original Visenya made him her Kingsguard Lord-Commander? Or what?
The dark waters, though fairly calm, put me ill at ease. I could not help it. I did not know if I would ever be truly comfortable with being at sea, though I found the water beautiful from land if somewhat overwhelming.
Men moved about their business, and Vhagar slept as she had most days recently, though I wondered if she was merely napping. I glanced down at my glove-covered hands, flexing the fingers and being more aware of the feeling of my braid on my shoulder than I had been of late.
"Are you well, Archontissa?" Came a curious yet frustratingly chipper voice from behind, almost startling me.
"Of course, Vaeron. Are you not supposed to be aboard the Sweet Sister though? I recall telling you to command it in my absence." I had left the Sweet Sister to be closer to Vhagar, and away from the few men Visenya knew on the ship. The real Visenya.
Vaeron's grey-eyed gaze widened in confusion, "You were not informed?" He said, a frown gracing his features.
I squeezed my left hand with my right. "Informed of what, Ser Vaeron?" I felt a pang of dread. What happened?
"I was… that is to say…" Vaeron glanced at his feet for a moment, looking every bit the young man of eight-and-ten that he was, and I felt a touch of sympathy for him mixed in with my annoyance.
"Tell me, Vaeron." The words came out more harshly than I had meant. I was not mad at him, I hoped he would not think I was.
"The Admiral, your lordly uncle, he removed me from the post you placed me in. My Archontissa, he put your cousin, the lord Aethon, in command of the Sweet Sister." I was no longer listening, all I could see was red, my hand had moved to Dark Sister's hilt without my noticing.
How dare he. How dare he!
I barked out orders to men to have Vhagar's saddle readied, and Vhagar herself seemed agitated though not wild.
It was half an hour later when I left, and I had calmed a little. There is no use in being angry, I need to use my words, I need to… remain calm enough to talk. I feared for a moment, of losing my temper. It was one thing to argue with and give my brother a bloody nose in a stupid fight in my old life. Quite another to stab one's kin in a fit of rage. No matter how much I wish they weren't. They are now.
I breathed deeply as I climbed the saddle and chained myself in. I may have been dressed for a casual dinner, but I felt ready for a war.
The sound of a whip cracking, a whip I knew I cracked but did not think of doing it before I did so as I had on previous flights.
The sea wind was in my hair and blowing my braid as great leathery wings flapped. Almost as if in time with the beat of my heart, almost. From the skies the dozen large ships were easily discernible just by the layout of their decks. Though I was not so high as to truly be in the skies, a few hundred feet above the ships was more than enough as the painted sails and hulls and the masts of the many smaller ships seemed almost a small forest themselves.
I cared not for the smaller ships, only for the largest in the fleet, the one at the head. The Lord Laenor.
My uncle's pride and joy. The thought came to me to torch one of the masts, just to frighten the man a little, to remind him of his place. That he had no right to control me. I was his Archontissa. I was a dragonlord. My hands gripped the mostly decorative reins as I resisted the urge.
A warmth spread in my chest as I completed my circuit of the fleet and Vhagar hovered above the Lord Laenor. Retrieving my war horn from my belt I sounded it to announce my arrival. Men moved out of the way as Vhagar's bulk landed on the deck of the largest ship in our fleet. Sure, it wasn't made for this sort of thing, but I was certain they would manage.
Hardly had I gotten my chains loosened that my uncle made his way to me flanked by two guardsmen in silvered-steel scale armor, his silver hair past his shoulders, wearing a teal cloak with silver trim over the dark velvet clothing he adored so much. His lilac eyes hard as he looked up at me.
"Dearest niece, to what do I owe the honor of your presence on my vessel?" He asked, his voice even and tinged with none of his usual amusement.
He removed me from my post, Archontissa. The one you placed me in. I remembered the words and something in me burned again.
"You will order your son to leave my ship immediately. And you will do this within the next hour. And from now on you will not command my appointed commanders. Do you understand me, Lord Daemon?" I spoke the words as clearly as possible. Pointing at him, shaking my fist to emphasize my words.
My uncle merely shook his head after a moment, a confident smile forced on his features that did not reach his eyes as he met my gaze with his own directly. For the briefest of moments I wanted to look away, but I did not.
"Your brother-husband, the ruling Archon of Dragonstone gave me command of the fleet, dear niece. I may command any other than yourself, and should you not be on your brother's flagship I am free to appoint any I wish to its command. You left it to stay on t-" I interrupted.
"My brother is not within a hundred miles of where we are, and from where I stand I could turn your ship to cinders if you do not do as I say. Do you understand? Write a letter ordering him to leave, hand it to me, and I will give it to your son myself! I do not care what Aegon said was in your rights as admiral, this entire expedition is under my command!" I almost screamed.
I will not be some tame dragon kept on a leash! I am his future queen. I am his Archontissa!
I barely resisted the urge to crack my whip.
Daemon bowed his head, and muttered something I couldn't hear from where I sat before he walked off, his stride as graceful as Rhaenys', and a short time later he had returned. Parchment in hand, and neatly folded. He passed it to a man of his before it made its way to me with some small effort.
I unfolded it and read the contents. I found nothing wrong with it, he had done as I said, and so I graced him with a smile.
"Your cooperation will be remembered, uncle." I placed the parchment in a satchel before cracking my whip, and Vhagar and I were in the skies once more. The coastline was a scant few miles away from us. We'd passed many fishing villages and several small towns on our way up the coastland so far. I wished we could have traveled on foot, that I could have had my feet on firm ground instead of on wooden ships that creaked in the night.
Vhagar's wings beat steadily, and I took the time to make another circuit of the fleet. Allowing the men to see my dragon in flight closely. I did not take my time as much as I had with the first circuit however, as Vhagar and I landed on the Sweet Sister after a ride of a mere few minutes. Or so I assumed, I wasn't keeping track of how many seconds passed but it felt like a few minutes.
I smiled as we landed on the deck of the flagship.
"Retrieve my cousin, the lord Aethon. I have a message for him directly from his father the admiral." My hand rested on the satchel containing the letter from my uncle, the message I had ordered written.
The men, a mix of some silver-haired and others dark haired and even some fair-haired quickly sent one of their own scurrying off to retrieve him. A young one with dark brown hair and skin that was clearly used to life at sunny seas.
As I drummed my fingers against my thigh, the wait began to feel unbearable, I did not know whether two minutes or ten had passed. Only that time stretched almost intolerably. Hurry up!
I must have said it out loud, as several sailors turned their heads to me almost as if in response. I did not care. Though I wondered if Aethon had somehow heard it, as he was on the deck in seemingly no time at all after that.
His silver hair was not short like Aegon's, but his face was like that of my baby brother. Not so alike as Orys, but there was a resemblance, and part of me was repulsed by it. Another merely angry, he had Daemon's damned eyes and Aegon's face in my mind. He even dressed like his father, save that he wore more traditional dress where his father had his beloved dark velvets in a Westerosi style. His hat like the one Corlys had worn. Damn you.
"Sweet cousin, your father has ordered your departure from my ship. You are to leave immediately and return to the Pride of Driftmark. Should I find you on my flagship without leave by the time the sun has set, I will cast you over the Sweet Sister myself and you can swim to whatever other ship will have you. Do you understand?" I tossed the satchel at him, containing little other than the letter itself. "You will find your father's orders in here, Aethon."
I watched as he retrieved the message with uneasy hands, glancing at my Vhagar and then up to myself several times. It felt nice.
He neatly folded the message up after he was finished reading. Though the expression on his face was one I couldn't read as he spoke, "I will leave at once, Archontissa. Allow me to gather my belongings and make preparations." I dismissed him with a wave of my hand and flew off on Vhagar once more, to return to the ship that was meant to be where Vhagar stayed while we were at sea.
As the winds whipped my braid, it felt almost like it cooled my temper, and I felt a gnawing feeling at my heart. Like what I had done was wrong. It was wrong, you stupid fucking idiot! I had threatened my uncle's ship with a dragon, I had threatened to toss Visenya's cousin overboard to maybe drown. I wanted to hit myself. The feeling only got worse as I landed back at the ship I had favored this entire trip. Not even the beauty of the light of the sun glittering off the waters could soften it.
The surge of energy and purpose I'd felt slipped away once I'd made it back and removed the chains that kept me held in the saddle securely. As I climbed down I felt a twinge of something achy and empty.
Vaeron's nervous smile lifted that slightly. His hair worn loosely, and the top of his head covered by a circular hat made of a red dyed felt. His grey eyes mostly warm. He wore the traditional style cloak covering, though his was a darker blue with red crabs sewn into the fine linen and the trim a white. His sandals were made of dark leather, and were tall with open toes. The sleeves of his tunic were fitted and embroidered, and the tunic itself was dark green with a yellowish scrollwork at the hem and went down past his knees.
A few moments of near-silence passed between us, only the gulls and waves and wind really breaking it.
"I... " I breathed deeply, "Ser Vaeron, you may return to the Sweet Sister if you so wish. My uncle will not interfere again." I forced the words out of my mouth. Though my heart hurt a bit when he seemed to frown slightly before laughing and shaking his head.
"If you wish me to, my lady. I-" I raised an eyebrow.
"My lady?"
"I, that is, you, Archontissa… It's no-" He stammered, blushing a red to match the crabs on his family's heraldry. I couldn't keep myself from giggling.
"Vaeron, no need to be so flustered! You can call me what you wish, within reason of course. Archontissa, lady, queen, most beautiful woman in three hundred miles…" I blushed myself at that last one. It sounded so stupid, and vain and arrogant.
"W-well then, Archontissa. I… I wanted to say that I do not think I should be in command of your brother-husband's flagship. I was not raised to sail ships as my elder brothers were. I know a little, but…" He chewed on his lip for a brief moment before continuing, "I think your uncle was right to give your cousin the captaincy whilst you were away."
He must have seen the glare I tried to conceal, that slipped for a moment, or maybe the probably obvious look of disappointment.
"It is just… The Sweet Sister. She is a fine ship, and needs a better captain at her helm." He finished, the last words barely above a nervous mutter. It hurt that I agreed with him. He was right.
My un-.. Daemon was right. I was putting an inexperienced boy in charge of Aegon's greatest ship. It might have been a power move on his part, a snub at me, but it could also just have been him taking precautions.
"We could play a game of cyvasse. I am certain there should be a board on this ship." Vaeron offered.
I frowned for a moment.
"That sounds nice." I replied, "I think there is a board in the captain's quarters. I may be misremembering, but it is worth checking." I forced a smile, and led the way.
I didn't win a single game that afternoon. It did help pass the time, however, and we had arrived near Duskendale before nightfall.
The guilt had not stopped gnawing at me.
I thought to myself not for the first time. Days before I had done as Aegon had asked, without so much as a fight. What would fighting him have accomplished? I sighed.
My gaze set on the shining moon. The stars bright and twinkling as I found constellations Visenya was familiar with. "Was there really another moon at some point?" I asked no one in particular, this late at night, or early in the morning, nobody was on deck save for myself… and Vhagar. I stroked her smooth yet hard scales.
Almost like coals, yet they do not burn. The starlight oh so barely was reflected in them. It was still amazing how many stars there were that I could see.
"You awake, girl?" There was my voice again, it sounded louder than it probably was. I forget, was that a phenomenon of human evolution? Or is it just so quiet in other ways that everything is louder? No answer from Vhagar, but why would there be? She needed sleep too, unlike me she wasn't suffering from a bout of insomnia. Could actually sleep comfortably at sea.
I had tried to sleep before. In a room set aside for my own use and if I were to be completely honest, it was fairly comfortable and pleasing to my eyes. I just couldn't feel comfortable not being close to an escape when at sea. I'd been kept awake by thoughts of the ship sinking while I slept, or of being trapped.
Yet I knew it was beyond irrational to think those things.
I snorted, "I'm a dumb girl, aren't I?" I mumbled in my native tongue. It was nice to speak it, when nobody was around. The ship was large too, probably one of the largest in the fleet, as it was made for allowing dragons to rest at sea. Like fucking aircraft carriers? I laughed a bit louder. It was a silly image.
I stretched my legs, covered by dark trousers. It felt good to stretch a bit after not moving them for a while.
"Did humans even evolve? Or were they just… did they have a more fantasyesque creation?" I felt silly asking, it wasn't as if I'd ever know. Visenya didn't. I liked to think G-d made men here too. Guided the creation of all creatures, in some way. Am I allowed to make a shrine at least? My sister, and the Bible said that He had outlawed any worship or altars to Him outside of Jerusalem and the Temple after its construction. But this world had never known His word, had never had a Temple, and part of me wanted to worship Him more than just… just in prayer. It's a silly idea.
Memories flickered, of a woman whose girlhood was partly spent memorizing the histories of a land that was dead and gone long before her grandfather's grandfather was even born. Of foreign gods who were once held close to the hearts of the exiles and those who shared the blood of Valyria. Hymns and prayers and ceremonies.
I wish I knew my G-d half as well as she seems to have known her own gods.
The wind that caressed my cheeks felt rather refreshing, the sounds of the night and sea and winds mingling in a pleasant manner. I missed the tents, though, the camps and even the stupid Aegonfort-to-be. At least there the ground was firm beneath my feet.
Again I was reminded of the fact that Aegon had ordered me here. I wished I'd been brave enough to tell him to fuck off.
A flash of my brother's face came to my mind. My true brother. His big dumb nose, and those ears that were so big when he was younger. He'd never let folks boss him around, from what I remembered. Is Aegon any less truly your brother? I clenched my fists.
"Miss you." A sigh escaped my lips as I toyed with the clasp of my purple and gold cloak, calming myself.
A few minutes passed, and I groaned as I continued to be unable to sleep despite my best efforts.
My best efforts? I'm the girl that slept on a plane easily, could fall asleep crammed between four people on a couch or cramped vehicle with ease.
I rested against Vhagar more, wondering if she could feel me, or if her scales kept her from really noticing such minor pressure. Or even if she just did not notice me because of sleep. I knew how to command dragons, how to ride and what they needed to eat and what temperatures were best for them, milestones of development and age and a thousand other things. Yet I didn't know the answer to this.
Folding my arms under my breasts I took several deep breaths, slowly and evenly, and I became more aware of the sound of the sea. Of the waves gently smacking against the ship, of the light creaking of the wood, of the night winds.
Doing so, focusing on those sounds and my breathing had done more to make me feel sleepy than anything else had. I could feel my eyelids growing heavier.
Breathing more, I turned my gaze upward to the skies once more, my head tilted to the side. My heart skipped a beat.
Is that?
I looked again. Three stars in sequence. "Orion's Belt." I could not keep the awe from slipping into my voice, nor the feeling of wetness pricking at my eyes. Nor did I want to.
It made my heart hurt. At the same time it felt good. Back home I had always looked for it when I looked at the night skies. So many things were different here, but I had that at least now.
I rested my head on Vhagar, my cheek touching her warm scales, but they were a comfort to me.
What am I going to do with my life after all of this? I'll be Queen… and then what? Avoid Aegon's bed? Hide on Driftmark or Dragonstone? I wanted a city, a shining jewel of my own, to leave something good behind even if I had to do it wearing her face and answering to her name. I wanted it. I wanted it more than anything, to show that I was not Aegon's… that I was not just his wife. The original Visenya did it, sorta. But I want to be better than you, if I can. How do I do that?
I had no answer as sleep soon claimed me.
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I heard the sound of men moving about, of yelling. My back hurt slightly, and I realized my hand was asleep when I tried to move it and felt the sensation of needles.
My eyes opened, and for a moment I tried to recall where I was until I remembered after brushing my hand against my dragon's scales. A large, leathery green curtain surrounded me.
"Wait, that's not a curtain." I mumbled, realizing it was Vhagar's wing. I felt… touched. She'd concealed me with her wing while I slept. "Saving your rider's dignity, eh?" I joked. Rising to my feet and emerging from the cover of her wing.
My hair felt a bit messy, and I noticed the scent of burnt meat that I associated with Vhagar's meals at this point.
Part of me felt like I wanted to hide, because I knew that the moment I left the cover I'd be seen and then folks would know and I would be the center of attention. Another part did not care, and dared them to say one word of insult. I was Archontissa, I was Queen, and I was in command. The dragon does as she pleases.
I wore that part of me like armor as I moved past busy men on a ship's deck and down below into the chambers of the captain here, my chambers now, sparing only a glance for my dragon as her golden-eyed gaze rested on me, blood dripping from her maw as she ate her slaughtered ox, and that feeling, that pride felt more natural than anything else.
An hour later I had emerged freshly cleaned and clothed. Ready to face the world on my own terms.
With the sun shining down from clear skies and the ship, though the slowest in the fleet, making a steady pace with the favorable winds at work I looked out over the… bow? Whatever the fuck the sides of ships were called, I never could remember. I have sailors for that. My cousin's face flashed in my mind's eye. He's a good swordsman, but is that why the original Visenya made him her Kingsguard Lord-Commander? Or what?
The dark waters, though fairly calm, put me ill at ease. I could not help it. I did not know if I would ever be truly comfortable with being at sea, though I found the water beautiful from land if somewhat overwhelming.
Men moved about their business, and Vhagar slept as she had most days recently, though I wondered if she was merely napping. I glanced down at my glove-covered hands, flexing the fingers and being more aware of the feeling of my braid on my shoulder than I had been of late.
"Are you well, Archontissa?" Came a curious yet frustratingly chipper voice from behind, almost startling me.
"Of course, Vaeron. Are you not supposed to be aboard the Sweet Sister though? I recall telling you to command it in my absence." I had left the Sweet Sister to be closer to Vhagar, and away from the few men Visenya knew on the ship. The real Visenya.
Vaeron's grey-eyed gaze widened in confusion, "You were not informed?" He said, a frown gracing his features.
I squeezed my left hand with my right. "Informed of what, Ser Vaeron?" I felt a pang of dread. What happened?
"I was… that is to say…" Vaeron glanced at his feet for a moment, looking every bit the young man of eight-and-ten that he was, and I felt a touch of sympathy for him mixed in with my annoyance.
"Tell me, Vaeron." The words came out more harshly than I had meant. I was not mad at him, I hoped he would not think I was.
"The Admiral, your lordly uncle, he removed me from the post you placed me in. My Archontissa, he put your cousin, the lord Aethon, in command of the Sweet Sister." I was no longer listening, all I could see was red, my hand had moved to Dark Sister's hilt without my noticing.
How dare he. How dare he!
I barked out orders to men to have Vhagar's saddle readied, and Vhagar herself seemed agitated though not wild.
It was half an hour later when I left, and I had calmed a little. There is no use in being angry, I need to use my words, I need to… remain calm enough to talk. I feared for a moment, of losing my temper. It was one thing to argue with and give my brother a bloody nose in a stupid fight in my old life. Quite another to stab one's kin in a fit of rage. No matter how much I wish they weren't. They are now.
I breathed deeply as I climbed the saddle and chained myself in. I may have been dressed for a casual dinner, but I felt ready for a war.
The sound of a whip cracking, a whip I knew I cracked but did not think of doing it before I did so as I had on previous flights.
The sea wind was in my hair and blowing my braid as great leathery wings flapped. Almost as if in time with the beat of my heart, almost. From the skies the dozen large ships were easily discernible just by the layout of their decks. Though I was not so high as to truly be in the skies, a few hundred feet above the ships was more than enough as the painted sails and hulls and the masts of the many smaller ships seemed almost a small forest themselves.
I cared not for the smaller ships, only for the largest in the fleet, the one at the head. The Lord Laenor.
My uncle's pride and joy. The thought came to me to torch one of the masts, just to frighten the man a little, to remind him of his place. That he had no right to control me. I was his Archontissa. I was a dragonlord. My hands gripped the mostly decorative reins as I resisted the urge.
A warmth spread in my chest as I completed my circuit of the fleet and Vhagar hovered above the Lord Laenor. Retrieving my war horn from my belt I sounded it to announce my arrival. Men moved out of the way as Vhagar's bulk landed on the deck of the largest ship in our fleet. Sure, it wasn't made for this sort of thing, but I was certain they would manage.
Hardly had I gotten my chains loosened that my uncle made his way to me flanked by two guardsmen in silvered-steel scale armor, his silver hair past his shoulders, wearing a teal cloak with silver trim over the dark velvet clothing he adored so much. His lilac eyes hard as he looked up at me.
"Dearest niece, to what do I owe the honor of your presence on my vessel?" He asked, his voice even and tinged with none of his usual amusement.
He removed me from my post, Archontissa. The one you placed me in. I remembered the words and something in me burned again.
"You will order your son to leave my ship immediately. And you will do this within the next hour. And from now on you will not command my appointed commanders. Do you understand me, Lord Daemon?" I spoke the words as clearly as possible. Pointing at him, shaking my fist to emphasize my words.
My uncle merely shook his head after a moment, a confident smile forced on his features that did not reach his eyes as he met my gaze with his own directly. For the briefest of moments I wanted to look away, but I did not.
"Your brother-husband, the ruling Archon of Dragonstone gave me command of the fleet, dear niece. I may command any other than yourself, and should you not be on your brother's flagship I am free to appoint any I wish to its command. You left it to stay on t-" I interrupted.
"My brother is not within a hundred miles of where we are, and from where I stand I could turn your ship to cinders if you do not do as I say. Do you understand? Write a letter ordering him to leave, hand it to me, and I will give it to your son myself! I do not care what Aegon said was in your rights as admiral, this entire expedition is under my command!" I almost screamed.
I will not be some tame dragon kept on a leash! I am his future queen. I am his Archontissa!
I barely resisted the urge to crack my whip.
Daemon bowed his head, and muttered something I couldn't hear from where I sat before he walked off, his stride as graceful as Rhaenys', and a short time later he had returned. Parchment in hand, and neatly folded. He passed it to a man of his before it made its way to me with some small effort.
I unfolded it and read the contents. I found nothing wrong with it, he had done as I said, and so I graced him with a smile.
"Your cooperation will be remembered, uncle." I placed the parchment in a satchel before cracking my whip, and Vhagar and I were in the skies once more. The coastline was a scant few miles away from us. We'd passed many fishing villages and several small towns on our way up the coastland so far. I wished we could have traveled on foot, that I could have had my feet on firm ground instead of on wooden ships that creaked in the night.
Vhagar's wings beat steadily, and I took the time to make another circuit of the fleet. Allowing the men to see my dragon in flight closely. I did not take my time as much as I had with the first circuit however, as Vhagar and I landed on the Sweet Sister after a ride of a mere few minutes. Or so I assumed, I wasn't keeping track of how many seconds passed but it felt like a few minutes.
I smiled as we landed on the deck of the flagship.
"Retrieve my cousin, the lord Aethon. I have a message for him directly from his father the admiral." My hand rested on the satchel containing the letter from my uncle, the message I had ordered written.
The men, a mix of some silver-haired and others dark haired and even some fair-haired quickly sent one of their own scurrying off to retrieve him. A young one with dark brown hair and skin that was clearly used to life at sunny seas.
As I drummed my fingers against my thigh, the wait began to feel unbearable, I did not know whether two minutes or ten had passed. Only that time stretched almost intolerably. Hurry up!
I must have said it out loud, as several sailors turned their heads to me almost as if in response. I did not care. Though I wondered if Aethon had somehow heard it, as he was on the deck in seemingly no time at all after that.
His silver hair was not short like Aegon's, but his face was like that of my baby brother. Not so alike as Orys, but there was a resemblance, and part of me was repulsed by it. Another merely angry, he had Daemon's damned eyes and Aegon's face in my mind. He even dressed like his father, save that he wore more traditional dress where his father had his beloved dark velvets in a Westerosi style. His hat like the one Corlys had worn. Damn you.
"Sweet cousin, your father has ordered your departure from my ship. You are to leave immediately and return to the Pride of Driftmark. Should I find you on my flagship without leave by the time the sun has set, I will cast you over the Sweet Sister myself and you can swim to whatever other ship will have you. Do you understand?" I tossed the satchel at him, containing little other than the letter itself. "You will find your father's orders in here, Aethon."
I watched as he retrieved the message with uneasy hands, glancing at my Vhagar and then up to myself several times. It felt nice.
He neatly folded the message up after he was finished reading. Though the expression on his face was one I couldn't read as he spoke, "I will leave at once, Archontissa. Allow me to gather my belongings and make preparations." I dismissed him with a wave of my hand and flew off on Vhagar once more, to return to the ship that was meant to be where Vhagar stayed while we were at sea.
As the winds whipped my braid, it felt almost like it cooled my temper, and I felt a gnawing feeling at my heart. Like what I had done was wrong. It was wrong, you stupid fucking idiot! I had threatened my uncle's ship with a dragon, I had threatened to toss Visenya's cousin overboard to maybe drown. I wanted to hit myself. The feeling only got worse as I landed back at the ship I had favored this entire trip. Not even the beauty of the light of the sun glittering off the waters could soften it.
The surge of energy and purpose I'd felt slipped away once I'd made it back and removed the chains that kept me held in the saddle securely. As I climbed down I felt a twinge of something achy and empty.
Vaeron's nervous smile lifted that slightly. His hair worn loosely, and the top of his head covered by a circular hat made of a red dyed felt. His grey eyes mostly warm. He wore the traditional style cloak covering, though his was a darker blue with red crabs sewn into the fine linen and the trim a white. His sandals were made of dark leather, and were tall with open toes. The sleeves of his tunic were fitted and embroidered, and the tunic itself was dark green with a yellowish scrollwork at the hem and went down past his knees.
A few moments of near-silence passed between us, only the gulls and waves and wind really breaking it.
"I... " I breathed deeply, "Ser Vaeron, you may return to the Sweet Sister if you so wish. My uncle will not interfere again." I forced the words out of my mouth. Though my heart hurt a bit when he seemed to frown slightly before laughing and shaking his head.
"If you wish me to, my lady. I-" I raised an eyebrow.
"My lady?"
"I, that is, you, Archontissa… It's no-" He stammered, blushing a red to match the crabs on his family's heraldry. I couldn't keep myself from giggling.
"Vaeron, no need to be so flustered! You can call me what you wish, within reason of course. Archontissa, lady, queen, most beautiful woman in three hundred miles…" I blushed myself at that last one. It sounded so stupid, and vain and arrogant.
"W-well then, Archontissa. I… I wanted to say that I do not think I should be in command of your brother-husband's flagship. I was not raised to sail ships as my elder brothers were. I know a little, but…" He chewed on his lip for a brief moment before continuing, "I think your uncle was right to give your cousin the captaincy whilst you were away."
He must have seen the glare I tried to conceal, that slipped for a moment, or maybe the probably obvious look of disappointment.
"It is just… The Sweet Sister. She is a fine ship, and needs a better captain at her helm." He finished, the last words barely above a nervous mutter. It hurt that I agreed with him. He was right.
My un-.. Daemon was right. I was putting an inexperienced boy in charge of Aegon's greatest ship. It might have been a power move on his part, a snub at me, but it could also just have been him taking precautions.
"We could play a game of cyvasse. I am certain there should be a board on this ship." Vaeron offered.
I frowned for a moment.
"That sounds nice." I replied, "I think there is a board in the captain's quarters. I may be misremembering, but it is worth checking." I forced a smile, and led the way.
I didn't win a single game that afternoon. It did help pass the time, however, and we had arrived near Duskendale before nightfall.
The guilt had not stopped gnawing at me.
I've been able to write more recently so that's nice.
Her body is fully capable of becoming pregnant without the need for any weird stuff. Really, the issue is that with Aegon he's shooting blanks most of the time, and it's a roll of the die on whether it works out. So with Aegon there's the chance he puts a kid in her before the month is finished or he doesn't manage to for their entire marriage.
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Chapter Seven: The Fall of Duskendale
The city's walls stood firmly against us. Thirty feet in height and we had heard nearly thirteen thick. Almost mocking our lack of numbers with their stoutness, their strength and their height. The pre-dawn light shimmered on the pale stone of them.
It was the second day of the siege, and I stood in a small hastily assembled council of men.
Daemon Velaryon, my uncle, his attire as prime and maintained as ever. This time even wearing a cloak matching that of his sons, though finer in make, and with more silver thread and intricate designs. Both waves and seahorses, and even a dragon on the hem. He looked more awake than I felt by far. Wretched man. He had called this meeting early. I wanted to throttle him. He had no right.
Vaeron stood beside me, dressed as he had most days, but this time he wore a finer clasp. With garnets set in the silver. A gift from his mother. I recalled. I was glad the young man was here.
"I am glad that you have all come to our Archontissa's war meeting." Daemon's voice, smooth and authoritative, carried through the deck of the Lord Laenor, the same deck we had cleared for our use at this moment. Even in the Westerosi Common tongue he had no issues making himself heard and understood.
I bit my tongue. Now was not the time to yell at him for calling a meeting without first consulting me, and using my name in it. I had just barely patched things over with him the day before, through his son, as I had no wish to apologize to him directly.
"We cannot win like this." The voice of Aethon was as if he were trying to imitate my brother and his father at once, and not quite managing either. He could give orders, but there was no real strength or charisma to it. He was dressed not unlike my brother, though in silvered-scale rather than blackened, and wore the same cloak as his brother.
"We have a thousand swords, many more if we press some of our rowers into service." Vaeron said, chipper and somehow energetic despite the early hour. "They have but eight hundred." He said with a smile, I could almost hear it.
"Eight-hundred on the walls, Ser Vaeron. That's worth eight thousand off of them, or more. We have not the men nor the time to take them. Our rowers would make for poor soldiers, we have few engineers, we cannot build siege equipment and even if we could we lack the fighting men to drive them from their position. Even if we did take the walls..." Lord Triston Massey replied, his words spoken in his queer Narrow Sea-Stormlander accent. He stroked the end of his long honey-blond mustache, as if in thought.
"And if we did take the walls, most like they would fall back to the Dun Fort." Aethon finished pithily. Lord Massey just offered a smile and nod.
It was strange, for the Visenya side of me at least. The man's clothing was a mix of both Narrow Sea and Stormlander fashions. He bore the cloak, though his was less ornate than our own, and a doublet where my kin would wear their tunics or shirts. Part of me resented his presence, but Aegon had insisted.
"Or worse, fight in the streets." I said, almost without thinking.
"Then why do we waste our time trying to besiege the city? We have not the men to encircle it, and if we tried to force our way through by sea, we would have to face them in the streets anyway." Corlys ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. The hat I had grown accustomed to seeing was not on his head.
Daemon's eyes rested on me, "Use Vhagar and we could be done in a matter of hours, niece." I wanted to scream. The image of men covered in green flame would not leave me.
"No, I will not burn a castle just to save time." I forced myself to sound as strong as I could.
"There is no other way, Archontissa. We do not have the men, supplies, or time to do this! Your brother wants us back in five days at most!" I scowled at Aethon, his words were like nails on chalkboard at that moment.
"I refuse to turn Vhagar's flame on a city, not unless there is no other option. I gave Darklyn's son the choice to bend the knee or die. He still has until this sunset before the surrender is no longer an option." I balled my hands into fists, my knuckles likely had whitened.
"And if he does not?" Asked Aethon
"Aethon, I will…" I bit my tongue, realizing I had been about to threaten him with dragonfire if he did not shut up.
I calmed myself slightly.
"I will burn the castle, and the men on the ships. But I will never turn Vhagar's fire on innocents." Five days. I shuddered to think of what Aegon might do if I failed. Lock me up? He doesn't need three dragons. I breathed in and out, before addressing the assembled men.
"If the city is not taken by the time the sun sets and rises, I will take Vhagar and I will force the way through. Until then, maintain the siege and blockade the port. Are you happy now?" I tugged at my braid. My kinsmen, and the others just bowed and gave their polite words and goodbyes. The meeting had obviously concluded.
Now what? I sighed, and made my way to Vhagar.
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The dawn was beautiful here, in a way even more beautiful than at Dragonstone. With the sun glinting off the chalk cliffs, and the more rugged bits of the landscape complementing the greener parts fairly well in a way that somewhat reminded me of a place I had been, but could not quite recall. Green-grey waters that were beautiful in their own way, despite lacking the sheer gorgeous blue of Driftmark.
Our men had camped close to the ships. Others close to that camp, but near to the walls. And yet a third group along the road.
Disciplined and orderly as the men at the main camp, with much the same armor, though a greater proportion were lighter foot. If I wanted someone dead, they would kill them. A part of me realized.
I had spent an hour circling the city looking for weaknesses. Seeing the camps from the skies as the cook fires were maintained and the men ate their breakfasts. When did flying become so comfortable? I wondered, it was not as if it was truly comfortable, but I was no longer feeling the urge to jump off, nor did the feeling of being more than twenty feet above the ground make me want to piss myself. Is this Visenya? Is it me?
I did not know the answer.
After a time I landed back on the Sweet Sister. Though her deck was not made for it, she would hold, if barely. The keening hiss noise that Vhagar was making, that whine, reminded me that she was hungry anyway.
My hand pressed against her muzzle, and I rubbed her green scales. "I'll have a fat sheep brought to you, how's that?" A low rumbling noise came up from her chest and I frowned. How much does she really understand? I had tried to ignore her once, but something in me… I just could not. It was more than the reasons I had come up with. It was something I did not understand. Am I going mad?
The sound of boots tramping on wood in my direction snapped me out of my thoughts, and I turned to see what it was. Vaeron, trailed by two guards. I smiled.
"Oh, good. Send word to the men on the other ships, Vhagar needs a sheep to eat. Or a load of fish." I laughed.
"Y-yes, Archontissa. But I must needs inform you, we have prisoners. Our soldiers captured them as they made their way up the road. The man in charge of it, he would be of little consequence, but h-he claims to be from Duskendale." I wanted to hit him.
I balled my hands into fists, "Our men captured a merchant caravan? Why? Let them go! They have done nothing wrong!" I barked, and then sighed. I felt like I had a headache coming on. "Actually, let me see their leader." The least I can do is apologize.
Within half an hour the man was brought aboard the Sweet Sister.
I looked at the captured man. He was old. Maybe fifty, judging by his graying hair and weathered features. But he was well-dressed, aside from the stains on his clothes likely gained from being roughed up.
I winced at the cut on his lip, and the bruise that had formed on his face.
"Search him for any hidden weapons, and…" I wanted to punch something, someone. "Have the man cleaned up, he'll be eating with me in an hour." The two men-at-arms looked confused.
"Did I stutter? Do as I command." I ordered, and a hissing sound from Vhagar was quick to get them to do as I said.
When I saw the prisoner again he was in… well, he was in better shape than he had been. I stamped out on my urge to immediately apologize. You are a daughter of Valyria, you do not show weakness. I schooled my features, and gestured for the man to sit.
He did so, taking a seat across from me, with food ready for both him and myself. Some kind of fish, white bread, a Dornish red wine along with cool water, and carrots all served on a silver tray and clay plates. It was… poorer fare than I had been used to, but I wasn't complaining.
"Your name?" I made sure to speak in the Common. I will not let Stokeworth be repeated.
He looked up at me, as if weighing his options for a brief moment before speaking, "Lothor, my lady."
"And you were heading up the road to Duskendale?"
"Duskendale is my home. We heard tell of dragons further south and wanted nothing to do with them, and returned home to be safe." He said the words almost tiredly. I wanted to comfort him.
"And now dragons have found you regardless. War and dragons both. For what it is worth, I did not intend to go this far north so quickly. My brother-husband, " The term made part of me want to spit, "Sent me. I want to take this city and be done with it. No bloodshed, I would wait for more men to reinforce this siege, but my brother demands we have the city by tomorrow." It was a lie, but a small one, how many more did I need to make? If lies stained, my tongue would have surely been black as night by now.
"I am no knight, lady, that honor belongs to my youngest son, but even I know you can not take the walls of Duskendale in a day with what few men I saw." He pursed his lips nervously immediately after, as if he realized he might have offended.
I sighed in response, I sipped at the water I had for myself before replying, "Truth be told, Lothar, I could have the city by nightfall, if I wished. Your lord's Dun Fort would melt under my dragon's flame. His soldiers would burn, the houses would go up in flame green as grass that would burn for an entire day." I said as though it were as simple a fact as the sun rising in the east. For Visenya, for me now, it almost was. As much as I hated it.
Happiness welled up in me as I saw him freeze up for a moment. He set down his fork.
"Why do you not simply take the city as you say, then?" He asked, his dark eyes avoiding my face. Is he afraid of me? The idea hurt.
"I told you, I do not want to kill more than is necessary. I do not want anyone to die if I can help it. I do not find any pleasure in dealing death, nor in war." I snorted, I imagined the real Visenya would have screamed. Hell, even Rhaenys would find it confusing I imagine. It was still strange that such a nice woman could find war fun. "When lords go to war, it's men like you who suffer." G-d, I sound like a cheesy politician. I meant it though. Even if part of me liked the idea of glory, war felt wrong.
Lothar's face went through expressions ranging from thoughtful to nervous and then to thoughtful again. "I might be able to help you." He looked like the words had been almost forced from his lips.
"Oh?" I tried to keep the surprise from showing. Could it be? Hope welled up. I forced my tone to be more even, harder, "How will you help?"
"My son is in the city watch. Without him I would have to pay more coming into Duskendale, my boy ha-"
"How does that help me, Lothar?"
He frowned, before nodding his head, "He commands one of the gatehouses, my lady."
I could not keep myself from smiling. "You can get him to leave one of the gates opened, then?" I wanted to laugh.
"I will need gold for him to bribe men with." He seemed to be more comfortable now.
Something in me felt cold. Is he playing me? "What do you want?" I could not stop myself from speaking before I could say the words in anything other than an accusing tone. My hand on the hilt of my dagger.
Lothar looked nervous, "Promise me, you will not unleash your dragon on the town. T-that is all I wish. Do not let your soldiers sack Duskendale. For my family's safety."
A facepalm would have been appropriate. Of course he wants that. Not everybody is trying to take advantage of you. Old habits died hard after all. But I'd been burned enough in my life. Am I paranoid? I wanted to think the best of people, so I hoped that was enough.
I lied back in the chair, not enough to tip it back, but still. "Five silver crowns now, and three gold coins when we take Darklyn's coffers. I won't have them paid upfront only for them to weasel out of it. Tell your son that." I frowned as I realized something.
"How do you plan to get in? To contact your son? I doubt they will be opening the gates during a siege.
"They will let me in, no doubt. I may have to bribe a guard or three but they will let me into the city."
He explained his plan to me. He would enter the city, make contact with his son, and by night he would have the gates left open. The west gate, not the south. After that, marching straight down the main road and to the Dun Fort itself, as the only men there would be household guards. With a gate taken, there was the chance that they might surrender right then. Especially if I were to fly in on Vhagar. I promised I would reimburse him for money he spent bribing guards.
I took the plan, and the man himself to my uncle. And explained it to him in our mother tongue.
Daemon turned to Lothar and addressed the man, "Be on your way, merchant, You and your caravan will be unharmed, your horses, donkeys, servants and whatever goods you had will be returned. Remember the agreement, or your head will adorn a pike the sunset after the next." He waved a hand dismissively.
I felt my cheeks burn.
"Uncle! Until he leaves, he is a prisoner under my protection, you will not show him such disrespect." I kept my voice calm, if barely so.
"Of course, Your Grace." He said, with a flourish of his cloak as he made his way to where he'd be going below deck.
I wanted to chide him further for insulting a man I had tried to make comfortable. For not even using his name.
Not that it mattered, as Lothar was being escorted even as we spoke. It was not even late afternoon, and I felt far more tired than I should.
As Lothar was guided off the ship I followed Daemon below. Nearly bumping into a few deckhands on the way, and noting the presence of a single cat on the ship, I resisted the urge to pet it before arriving where I knew the captain's cabin would be. It was, like most things about my dear uncle, a mix of finery and comfort. With little in the way of keepsakes, from what I could tell, but I barely knew the man so I could have been wrong. My uncle was already sitting in a comfortable chair that put the one I'd used on the Sweet Sister to shame, and another chair already set out as if he'd expected I would come.
He tilted his head in amusement. "Please, sit with your uncle, Visenya. I do not believe we have ever spoken in private like this before." I tried not to meet his eyes as I sat down, and decided to speak before he could control the conversation.
"We'll need to make noise to keep the men of the south gate from finding out too soon that our men have taken the west gate. As well, we should not send in the young men, or the Westerosi. I do not trust them to follow orders in battle. I want the city taken, not sacked. It is more valuable to us unharmed. After all," I breathed in, I had been thinking on the idea for some time, "My most esteemed kinsman will be given the tariff rights for the port, and it will be richer if it is not first looted."
"And here I thought you hated me, sweet niece." He said with a smile, one that sent a chill down my spine, I could not remember him ever smiling so broadly at me before. It touched his eyes.
"I do not like you that much, no. You have never liked us either, uncle." He chuckled in response.
"You are my sister's children, for that I love you, but you are right. I like you little. And though Rhaenys may have Valaena's daring, I say you have her tongue as well as her face. Perhaps some of her boldness as well." Daemon smiled softly, part of me hurt to hear those words from him and yet craved it, "You insulted your husband thrice over, while in his presence. You even struck him from what I hear."
I froze up, "Where did you hear… any of this?" I had not struck Aegon at any point, but I had indeed insulted him. He deserved it.
"Servants talk, Visenya. As do men in the camps, if you know to listen. I heard a fair deal on Dragonstone, and more at the king's camps at the landing camps. I would recommend you stay away from wine, niece, without your sister the entire camp might have known about how you made a fool of yourself." I felt sick. How much do people know about what I do?
My black boot clad feet carried me out of the room and back to Vhagar, and a short time later, with the powerful beating of her wings we were soaring through the skies.
I realized I had forgotten to apologize to Lothar for him being roughed up.
Fuck!
------------------------------------
The morning air was heavy with mist as the son of the lord of Duskendale marched out to meet me in the first great courtyard of the Dun Fort. My guard of fifty heavy horse, his of a hundred footmen armored as well as any knight and twelve horsemen.
He had begged after a night of the keep under siege, after his city gate had fallen to us, and after my Vhagar had flown over their battlements with the early morning. I did not burn them as I did the men of Stokeworth.
Beside the son of the Lord Darklyn, another man carried his house's banner, black diamonds on a field of yellow below a single bar of black on which there were five gold crowns in sequence. He was… I did not imagine Robert Darklyn was any older than I. Maybe younger. His features were plain, but he held himself proudly despite his clear unease. Any man can look lordly on horseback.
On the back of my white courser, I felt just as tall.
"Your Grace, it is an honor to meet with you to discuss t-" I'd had enough. I just wanted this to end.
"Dispense with the pleasantries, Darklyn. Your city watch has abandoned you, and if you sit inside that keep of yours you will burn before noontide. You resisted, but though I will not allow you to keep your city or lands, save perhaps what might be reasonable for a poor landed knight, you will live." I spoke, with a confidence that part of me felt was unearned, but it felt wonderful to be giving commands like this.
"And if I were to tell you I have twelve crossbowmen ready to loose their bolts at my command, Your Grace?" His face seemed tired. My heart began to race.
"My dragon is outside, and she will be none too happy. Did you know that dragons frenzy on the death of a rider? It takes some time for them to come back under control." I lied. "And if you somehow managed to kill her, my brother is marching up the road with four thousand men alongside another dragon that makes mine look like a robin beside a hawk. And my sister as well, her dragon though not so great as his, is still older and stronger than my Vhagar." I smiled.
"Do you have any other questions?" I asked, tilting my head slightly, my braid touching my cloaked shoulder.
"No, it is over. I…" He got off his horse, and knelt before me, offering his blade. "Duskendale is yours, Your Grace."
It was the second day of the siege, and I stood in a small hastily assembled council of men.
Daemon Velaryon, my uncle, his attire as prime and maintained as ever. This time even wearing a cloak matching that of his sons, though finer in make, and with more silver thread and intricate designs. Both waves and seahorses, and even a dragon on the hem. He looked more awake than I felt by far. Wretched man. He had called this meeting early. I wanted to throttle him. He had no right.
Vaeron stood beside me, dressed as he had most days, but this time he wore a finer clasp. With garnets set in the silver. A gift from his mother. I recalled. I was glad the young man was here.
"I am glad that you have all come to our Archontissa's war meeting." Daemon's voice, smooth and authoritative, carried through the deck of the Lord Laenor, the same deck we had cleared for our use at this moment. Even in the Westerosi Common tongue he had no issues making himself heard and understood.
I bit my tongue. Now was not the time to yell at him for calling a meeting without first consulting me, and using my name in it. I had just barely patched things over with him the day before, through his son, as I had no wish to apologize to him directly.
"We cannot win like this." The voice of Aethon was as if he were trying to imitate my brother and his father at once, and not quite managing either. He could give orders, but there was no real strength or charisma to it. He was dressed not unlike my brother, though in silvered-scale rather than blackened, and wore the same cloak as his brother.
"We have a thousand swords, many more if we press some of our rowers into service." Vaeron said, chipper and somehow energetic despite the early hour. "They have but eight hundred." He said with a smile, I could almost hear it.
"Eight-hundred on the walls, Ser Vaeron. That's worth eight thousand off of them, or more. We have not the men nor the time to take them. Our rowers would make for poor soldiers, we have few engineers, we cannot build siege equipment and even if we could we lack the fighting men to drive them from their position. Even if we did take the walls..." Lord Triston Massey replied, his words spoken in his queer Narrow Sea-Stormlander accent. He stroked the end of his long honey-blond mustache, as if in thought.
"And if we did take the walls, most like they would fall back to the Dun Fort." Aethon finished pithily. Lord Massey just offered a smile and nod.
It was strange, for the Visenya side of me at least. The man's clothing was a mix of both Narrow Sea and Stormlander fashions. He bore the cloak, though his was less ornate than our own, and a doublet where my kin would wear their tunics or shirts. Part of me resented his presence, but Aegon had insisted.
"Or worse, fight in the streets." I said, almost without thinking.
"Then why do we waste our time trying to besiege the city? We have not the men to encircle it, and if we tried to force our way through by sea, we would have to face them in the streets anyway." Corlys ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. The hat I had grown accustomed to seeing was not on his head.
Daemon's eyes rested on me, "Use Vhagar and we could be done in a matter of hours, niece." I wanted to scream. The image of men covered in green flame would not leave me.
"No, I will not burn a castle just to save time." I forced myself to sound as strong as I could.
"There is no other way, Archontissa. We do not have the men, supplies, or time to do this! Your brother wants us back in five days at most!" I scowled at Aethon, his words were like nails on chalkboard at that moment.
"I refuse to turn Vhagar's flame on a city, not unless there is no other option. I gave Darklyn's son the choice to bend the knee or die. He still has until this sunset before the surrender is no longer an option." I balled my hands into fists, my knuckles likely had whitened.
"And if he does not?" Asked Aethon
"Aethon, I will…" I bit my tongue, realizing I had been about to threaten him with dragonfire if he did not shut up.
I calmed myself slightly.
"I will burn the castle, and the men on the ships. But I will never turn Vhagar's fire on innocents." Five days. I shuddered to think of what Aegon might do if I failed. Lock me up? He doesn't need three dragons. I breathed in and out, before addressing the assembled men.
"If the city is not taken by the time the sun sets and rises, I will take Vhagar and I will force the way through. Until then, maintain the siege and blockade the port. Are you happy now?" I tugged at my braid. My kinsmen, and the others just bowed and gave their polite words and goodbyes. The meeting had obviously concluded.
Now what? I sighed, and made my way to Vhagar.
--------------------
The dawn was beautiful here, in a way even more beautiful than at Dragonstone. With the sun glinting off the chalk cliffs, and the more rugged bits of the landscape complementing the greener parts fairly well in a way that somewhat reminded me of a place I had been, but could not quite recall. Green-grey waters that were beautiful in their own way, despite lacking the sheer gorgeous blue of Driftmark.
Our men had camped close to the ships. Others close to that camp, but near to the walls. And yet a third group along the road.
Disciplined and orderly as the men at the main camp, with much the same armor, though a greater proportion were lighter foot. If I wanted someone dead, they would kill them. A part of me realized.
I had spent an hour circling the city looking for weaknesses. Seeing the camps from the skies as the cook fires were maintained and the men ate their breakfasts. When did flying become so comfortable? I wondered, it was not as if it was truly comfortable, but I was no longer feeling the urge to jump off, nor did the feeling of being more than twenty feet above the ground make me want to piss myself. Is this Visenya? Is it me?
I did not know the answer.
After a time I landed back on the Sweet Sister. Though her deck was not made for it, she would hold, if barely. The keening hiss noise that Vhagar was making, that whine, reminded me that she was hungry anyway.
My hand pressed against her muzzle, and I rubbed her green scales. "I'll have a fat sheep brought to you, how's that?" A low rumbling noise came up from her chest and I frowned. How much does she really understand? I had tried to ignore her once, but something in me… I just could not. It was more than the reasons I had come up with. It was something I did not understand. Am I going mad?
The sound of boots tramping on wood in my direction snapped me out of my thoughts, and I turned to see what it was. Vaeron, trailed by two guards. I smiled.
"Oh, good. Send word to the men on the other ships, Vhagar needs a sheep to eat. Or a load of fish." I laughed.
"Y-yes, Archontissa. But I must needs inform you, we have prisoners. Our soldiers captured them as they made their way up the road. The man in charge of it, he would be of little consequence, but h-he claims to be from Duskendale." I wanted to hit him.
I balled my hands into fists, "Our men captured a merchant caravan? Why? Let them go! They have done nothing wrong!" I barked, and then sighed. I felt like I had a headache coming on. "Actually, let me see their leader." The least I can do is apologize.
Within half an hour the man was brought aboard the Sweet Sister.
I looked at the captured man. He was old. Maybe fifty, judging by his graying hair and weathered features. But he was well-dressed, aside from the stains on his clothes likely gained from being roughed up.
I winced at the cut on his lip, and the bruise that had formed on his face.
"Search him for any hidden weapons, and…" I wanted to punch something, someone. "Have the man cleaned up, he'll be eating with me in an hour." The two men-at-arms looked confused.
"Did I stutter? Do as I command." I ordered, and a hissing sound from Vhagar was quick to get them to do as I said.
When I saw the prisoner again he was in… well, he was in better shape than he had been. I stamped out on my urge to immediately apologize. You are a daughter of Valyria, you do not show weakness. I schooled my features, and gestured for the man to sit.
He did so, taking a seat across from me, with food ready for both him and myself. Some kind of fish, white bread, a Dornish red wine along with cool water, and carrots all served on a silver tray and clay plates. It was… poorer fare than I had been used to, but I wasn't complaining.
"Your name?" I made sure to speak in the Common. I will not let Stokeworth be repeated.
He looked up at me, as if weighing his options for a brief moment before speaking, "Lothor, my lady."
"And you were heading up the road to Duskendale?"
"Duskendale is my home. We heard tell of dragons further south and wanted nothing to do with them, and returned home to be safe." He said the words almost tiredly. I wanted to comfort him.
"And now dragons have found you regardless. War and dragons both. For what it is worth, I did not intend to go this far north so quickly. My brother-husband, " The term made part of me want to spit, "Sent me. I want to take this city and be done with it. No bloodshed, I would wait for more men to reinforce this siege, but my brother demands we have the city by tomorrow." It was a lie, but a small one, how many more did I need to make? If lies stained, my tongue would have surely been black as night by now.
"I am no knight, lady, that honor belongs to my youngest son, but even I know you can not take the walls of Duskendale in a day with what few men I saw." He pursed his lips nervously immediately after, as if he realized he might have offended.
I sighed in response, I sipped at the water I had for myself before replying, "Truth be told, Lothar, I could have the city by nightfall, if I wished. Your lord's Dun Fort would melt under my dragon's flame. His soldiers would burn, the houses would go up in flame green as grass that would burn for an entire day." I said as though it were as simple a fact as the sun rising in the east. For Visenya, for me now, it almost was. As much as I hated it.
Happiness welled up in me as I saw him freeze up for a moment. He set down his fork.
"Why do you not simply take the city as you say, then?" He asked, his dark eyes avoiding my face. Is he afraid of me? The idea hurt.
"I told you, I do not want to kill more than is necessary. I do not want anyone to die if I can help it. I do not find any pleasure in dealing death, nor in war." I snorted, I imagined the real Visenya would have screamed. Hell, even Rhaenys would find it confusing I imagine. It was still strange that such a nice woman could find war fun. "When lords go to war, it's men like you who suffer." G-d, I sound like a cheesy politician. I meant it though. Even if part of me liked the idea of glory, war felt wrong.
Lothar's face went through expressions ranging from thoughtful to nervous and then to thoughtful again. "I might be able to help you." He looked like the words had been almost forced from his lips.
"Oh?" I tried to keep the surprise from showing. Could it be? Hope welled up. I forced my tone to be more even, harder, "How will you help?"
"My son is in the city watch. Without him I would have to pay more coming into Duskendale, my boy ha-"
"How does that help me, Lothar?"
He frowned, before nodding his head, "He commands one of the gatehouses, my lady."
I could not keep myself from smiling. "You can get him to leave one of the gates opened, then?" I wanted to laugh.
"I will need gold for him to bribe men with." He seemed to be more comfortable now.
Something in me felt cold. Is he playing me? "What do you want?" I could not stop myself from speaking before I could say the words in anything other than an accusing tone. My hand on the hilt of my dagger.
Lothar looked nervous, "Promise me, you will not unleash your dragon on the town. T-that is all I wish. Do not let your soldiers sack Duskendale. For my family's safety."
A facepalm would have been appropriate. Of course he wants that. Not everybody is trying to take advantage of you. Old habits died hard after all. But I'd been burned enough in my life. Am I paranoid? I wanted to think the best of people, so I hoped that was enough.
I lied back in the chair, not enough to tip it back, but still. "Five silver crowns now, and three gold coins when we take Darklyn's coffers. I won't have them paid upfront only for them to weasel out of it. Tell your son that." I frowned as I realized something.
"How do you plan to get in? To contact your son? I doubt they will be opening the gates during a siege.
"They will let me in, no doubt. I may have to bribe a guard or three but they will let me into the city."
He explained his plan to me. He would enter the city, make contact with his son, and by night he would have the gates left open. The west gate, not the south. After that, marching straight down the main road and to the Dun Fort itself, as the only men there would be household guards. With a gate taken, there was the chance that they might surrender right then. Especially if I were to fly in on Vhagar. I promised I would reimburse him for money he spent bribing guards.
I took the plan, and the man himself to my uncle. And explained it to him in our mother tongue.
Daemon turned to Lothar and addressed the man, "Be on your way, merchant, You and your caravan will be unharmed, your horses, donkeys, servants and whatever goods you had will be returned. Remember the agreement, or your head will adorn a pike the sunset after the next." He waved a hand dismissively.
I felt my cheeks burn.
"Uncle! Until he leaves, he is a prisoner under my protection, you will not show him such disrespect." I kept my voice calm, if barely so.
"Of course, Your Grace." He said, with a flourish of his cloak as he made his way to where he'd be going below deck.
I wanted to chide him further for insulting a man I had tried to make comfortable. For not even using his name.
Not that it mattered, as Lothar was being escorted even as we spoke. It was not even late afternoon, and I felt far more tired than I should.
As Lothar was guided off the ship I followed Daemon below. Nearly bumping into a few deckhands on the way, and noting the presence of a single cat on the ship, I resisted the urge to pet it before arriving where I knew the captain's cabin would be. It was, like most things about my dear uncle, a mix of finery and comfort. With little in the way of keepsakes, from what I could tell, but I barely knew the man so I could have been wrong. My uncle was already sitting in a comfortable chair that put the one I'd used on the Sweet Sister to shame, and another chair already set out as if he'd expected I would come.
He tilted his head in amusement. "Please, sit with your uncle, Visenya. I do not believe we have ever spoken in private like this before." I tried not to meet his eyes as I sat down, and decided to speak before he could control the conversation.
"We'll need to make noise to keep the men of the south gate from finding out too soon that our men have taken the west gate. As well, we should not send in the young men, or the Westerosi. I do not trust them to follow orders in battle. I want the city taken, not sacked. It is more valuable to us unharmed. After all," I breathed in, I had been thinking on the idea for some time, "My most esteemed kinsman will be given the tariff rights for the port, and it will be richer if it is not first looted."
"And here I thought you hated me, sweet niece." He said with a smile, one that sent a chill down my spine, I could not remember him ever smiling so broadly at me before. It touched his eyes.
"I do not like you that much, no. You have never liked us either, uncle." He chuckled in response.
"You are my sister's children, for that I love you, but you are right. I like you little. And though Rhaenys may have Valaena's daring, I say you have her tongue as well as her face. Perhaps some of her boldness as well." Daemon smiled softly, part of me hurt to hear those words from him and yet craved it, "You insulted your husband thrice over, while in his presence. You even struck him from what I hear."
I froze up, "Where did you hear… any of this?" I had not struck Aegon at any point, but I had indeed insulted him. He deserved it.
"Servants talk, Visenya. As do men in the camps, if you know to listen. I heard a fair deal on Dragonstone, and more at the king's camps at the landing camps. I would recommend you stay away from wine, niece, without your sister the entire camp might have known about how you made a fool of yourself." I felt sick. How much do people know about what I do?
My black boot clad feet carried me out of the room and back to Vhagar, and a short time later, with the powerful beating of her wings we were soaring through the skies.
I realized I had forgotten to apologize to Lothar for him being roughed up.
Fuck!
------------------------------------
The morning air was heavy with mist as the son of the lord of Duskendale marched out to meet me in the first great courtyard of the Dun Fort. My guard of fifty heavy horse, his of a hundred footmen armored as well as any knight and twelve horsemen.
He had begged after a night of the keep under siege, after his city gate had fallen to us, and after my Vhagar had flown over their battlements with the early morning. I did not burn them as I did the men of Stokeworth.
Beside the son of the Lord Darklyn, another man carried his house's banner, black diamonds on a field of yellow below a single bar of black on which there were five gold crowns in sequence. He was… I did not imagine Robert Darklyn was any older than I. Maybe younger. His features were plain, but he held himself proudly despite his clear unease. Any man can look lordly on horseback.
On the back of my white courser, I felt just as tall.
"Your Grace, it is an honor to meet with you to discuss t-" I'd had enough. I just wanted this to end.
"Dispense with the pleasantries, Darklyn. Your city watch has abandoned you, and if you sit inside that keep of yours you will burn before noontide. You resisted, but though I will not allow you to keep your city or lands, save perhaps what might be reasonable for a poor landed knight, you will live." I spoke, with a confidence that part of me felt was unearned, but it felt wonderful to be giving commands like this.
"And if I were to tell you I have twelve crossbowmen ready to loose their bolts at my command, Your Grace?" His face seemed tired. My heart began to race.
"My dragon is outside, and she will be none too happy. Did you know that dragons frenzy on the death of a rider? It takes some time for them to come back under control." I lied. "And if you somehow managed to kill her, my brother is marching up the road with four thousand men alongside another dragon that makes mine look like a robin beside a hawk. And my sister as well, her dragon though not so great as his, is still older and stronger than my Vhagar." I smiled.
"Do you have any other questions?" I asked, tilting my head slightly, my braid touching my cloaked shoulder.
"No, it is over. I…" He got off his horse, and knelt before me, offering his blade. "Duskendale is yours, Your Grace."
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Wow! I've gotten a lot of likes of late, whoever you all are, thank you for taking the time to read my fic and thank you even more for liking it!
Chapter Eight: A Feast and an Alliance
The scents of spiced food and wine wafted about the hall, servants carrying food and drink as I rested comfortably in the seat of the lord of the castle and ruler of Duskendale. Myriad candles providing illumination. Would it kill them to build a great hall with a view of the outside? I imagined great glass windows, clear and well-made that would allow light inside.
It was a far cry from the more open great hall of Dragonstone, or even Driftmark. Which while not as defensible were better lit and could hold more people. At least the Dun Fort isn't covered in dragons and other horrid iconography and statuary that make it almost tacky. I missed Dragonstone, despite some of the questionable architectural and interior design. I missed the gardens, as relatively sparse as they were, I missed my own chambers, I missed the room containing Aegon's painted table, I missed the Sea Dragon Tower the most, though. The balcony and view of the sea from it, Rhaenys had liked it when we were children. Mother liked it too.
Mo- Valaena, had said that it reminded her of home. What little fathe- Aerion said of her after her death had included how much she often missed Driftmark. She had loved Aerion, and for that she tolerated living in the shadow of the Dragonmont. She had kept secondary chambers at Sea Dragon Tower for when she and Aerion fought. If I slept there, perhaps Aegon might never bother visiting my bed. I sighed.
"What reason have you to be sad, niece?" The voice of Daemon Velaryon reminded me again that he sat beside me at the high table. Dressed in a manner more befitting his ancestors than the velvets and styles he so adored. His hair, as always, was loose and down to his shoulders and catching the candlelight. He wore a teal and silver silk cloak with a silver dragon's head with sapphire eyes, he had the right to it after all. With waves and ships and even sea-horses on the edges of the cloak in silver thread, I recalled that in motion it seemed almost a thing alive. A work of art.
His silk tunic was grey and accented with blue, like both the waves of Dragonstone and Driftmark, and at the sleeves was gold scrollwork and on his hands were three rings set with stones of sapphire and diamond and topaz.
I bit my tongue, keeping my desire to tell him to mind his own business under control. It would not do to be rude to a man who could be a good supporter. "Mother." I replied. I caught the brief change in his expression, confusion turning to his practiced smile.
"My sister is four-and-ten years gone. All men must die, that is a truth ordained by the gods at the dawn of time." He said almost stiffly. I shook my head.
"No, I was merely thinking about how she loved the sea and yet I cannot stand it. I wonder if she would have approved of Aegon, and his vanity and pride." A stifled snort was his response to my lie, his gaze rested on my braid for a second before turning back to my face. His lilac eyes were still not something I was comfortable with, though they were better than they had once felt.
"Valaena was a proud woman, surely you remember that much?" He idly touched at one of his rings. "When we were children, she a girl of two-and-ten, demanded that our father reconsider naming one of his ships for her. She said that she would not settle for anything less than the flagship." Daemon laughed, "When father refused, she convinced your father to take Balerion and have the black beast rake the name off the ship in the dead of night."
"How did he manage to do that unnoticed?" I asked, curious.
"He did not. He was caught, and my father was furious. Both of your grandfathers were. In an audience before your grandfather the Archon of Dragonstone, My father threatened to deny Aerion rights to visit Driftmark. And before the Dragon's Throne, your father, a boy of three-and-ten said he would seat Valaena on the Driftwood Throne before he would allow her to be dishonored with such an unworthy ship. Daemion laughed, and ordered my father to build a ship worthy of his future Archontissa." Daemon smiled ruefully.
"What happened then?" A part of me wanted to hear more of the story, another part just wanted to learn more about her mother and father.
"Daemion took your father aside to his solar, and struck him thrice. Once for being moonstruck, once for causing him such trouble by damaging the property of his vassal, and lastly for acting in a manner unbefitting his station. Aerion bore that bruise on his face proudly." Daemon leaned back ever so slightly in his chair, eyes slightly glazed over as if in memory. "He told me he knew his father would do it, and that he'd have taken such punishment again."
"He did all that for mother?" I asked, I had known Aerion loved Valaena, but had figured it was something that had grown over the marriage. Daemon smiled in a way that reached his eyes.
"He loved her more than he loved flying, or so he told me." His smile dimmed, and a frown creased his features, "I believed him at the time. Maybe he even believed it himself. Still, he dishonored her after your sister was born and I cannot forgive that."
I tried to figure out what he was talking about. The only thing I could think of was Orys' birth after Aegon's. But he was older than Rhaenys by a year. Did he misremember Orys' age? I was confused, and it must have shown on my face as he simply waved his hand dismissively.
"We will speak of this later if we speak of this at all, niece." And that was that.
I passed a few more minutes by chatting with Vaeron who sat at my other side. Finding my mood lifted and myself giggling after he told a fairly bawdy joke that he'd heard from one of his older brothers. It felt good to laugh.
"Praise to the Archontissa! Glory to our Queen!" Came the voices of the men deemed of high enough status to dine within the great hall of the Dun Fort, the castle I had captured but hours before. More a grand fortress than a stout castle, at least compared to the castles from home. I found myself again admiring the skill and scale at which the Westerosi built their seats.
I cleared my throat, and raised a goblet filled with a heavily watered down Dornish red, "Praise to those who have followed me, and glory to my family in whose name I have conquered!" A cheer and claps, numerous though not particularly loud ones, were the response I received.
My gaze passed over the great hall more thoroughly. From the banners of simple black and red hanging in place of the old Darklyn ones to the entrances to the hall itself. There were a fair number, leading to various places and hallways within the greater keep. I still need to inspect those coffers. I felt antsy in a way I hadn't before, but took a breath in and out to calm myself.
Finishing what I felt I needed to eat, I had my hands washed off and dried as I rose to my feet and cleared my throat. "Valiant men of my host, continue celebrating, the wine is plentiful here and will flow freely. I must leave you now to inspect what my efforts have won!" I raised my goblet once more, "To victory!" I shouted.
"May it be everlasting!" Came the traditional reply. From over a hundred mouths.
I turned my attention to Daemon, "You are coming with me, uncle." He bristled ever so slightly for a moment, but he stood up and followed me as I left the great hall. Having gotten a guide earlier. Part of me was still worried that they weren't to be trusted, and that I would find out the next morning that the men I'd set to guarding Robert Darklyn had been slain and he'd escaped from his tower cell. Cell is too harsh a word for it. He has nicer accommodations than most men in their own homes.
Daemon respectfully kept his stride shorter than mine and walked slightly behind me though still at my side as we made our way through the keep to where the treasury was. A lanky though balding man, in Darklyn livery, was our guide through the expansive castle. The hallways were nice and even richly decorated with luxurious rugs across many parts, but they were not a match for those of Dragonstone. The Dun Fort may have been the seat of kings in the past, but Dragonstone is the home of the dragonlords. I remembered that in Old Valyria, our family had vast estates and wealth such that it made most Westerosi lords and kings seem paupers. Aenar came to Dragonstone with that wealth, and spent as though our family still had the same revenues.
His son Gaemon took copious bribes to stay out of the affairs of the Free Cities, and spent vast amounts of treasure on maintaining the old lifestyle of the dragonlords. Throwing lavish parties and turning Dragonstone from a dreary keep into the seat fit for our family. With many decorations of gold and silver added in his time, and statues of himself built out of those precious metals and placed in the courtyards of our home. In his time he built a grand fleet to match that of Lys, and he had to sell some few items of Valyrian steel in order to pay for and maintain it. For his efforts many called him the Glorious.
Then came Aegon and Elaena. Who saw their father's work and desired to surpass it. Though solely in the opulence of their court. The bribes they received were fewer, and they let the fleet fall into disrepair rather than maintaining it, and they too sold items of Valyrian steel. This time including one of our family swords, rather than some trinkets and jewelry. Maegon was much the same, and after they passed he ruled for ten years and sold another one of the family swords.
Aerys, my great-grandfather, ruled for a time and he was miserly indeed. He stopped the spending, and sat on his growing wealth for his entire time as Archon. Much like a dragon with its hoard. I smiled.
But then he died, and his son Aelyx came to rule Dragonstone. My grandfather murdered him, and his children and slew Baelon next with the support of the Lord of Driftmark, my other grandfather. Daemion's long reign saw the nadir of our wealth and strength. He sold the last of our Valyrian steel items aside from our swords and the primary diadem, including the consort's diadem, he killed various dragon hatchlings and prevented the hatching of new ones until it was announced that my mother was pregnant. He spent ruinous amounts on gifts to foreign rulers, and emptied the coffers of Dragonstone on multiple occasions.
It is good you do not remember him, little brother and sister. I barely remembered the man, and his eyes still frightened me. His skin was smooth and seemingly untouched by the years, even as sickness had ravaged his body in other ways. His eyes were haunting, and piercing. I resisted the urge to shake my head, and my heart hurt as I remembered my father. He had been a broken man after m-, Valaena, had passed but he had spent his entire time as Archon rebuilding what our ancestors had ruined. Prudent rulership led to Driftmark and Dragonstone flourishing and increased wealth from trade. He expanded our influence as far as Stonedance. He was forced to sell one of our family swords in order to pay off debts accumulated by our grandfather. Where once we had five, now only two. He even wrote an entire book on dragonlore, after burning many of those texts our family once had. A fair number of scrolls of sorcery. Without h-
"Your Grace." I blinked as I was snapped back to reality. The lanky man bowing to me as the vault doors were opened, and I was startled at how much gold was there. Gold and silver and other valuables. I'd never seen that much gold in one place in my life. Dragonstone is decently wealthy, but… not like this.
"With this much gold he could afford…. An army. There are plenty of mercenaries in Westeros. If he'd waited he could have brought down ten thousand men, maybe." My mind swam with possibilities. I could do something with this wealth. I could afford the finest mercenaries the East has to offer. I wondered if I even needed to pay mercenaries in gold, some might accept land after all, and settled foreigners reliant upon the throne's continued success were more reliable than sellswords.
"It would make little difference against Balerion and the army your brother and half-brother led north to meet Mooton and Darklyn." Daemon chuckled.
I gathered up thirty gold coins and murmured softly, "I will have these given to the men who got us this city without much bloodshed. A promise is a promise, after all." I turned the coins over. There were several kinds. Including a few with the face of Horonno pressed into them. Volantene honors. They had to be at least thirty years old. Lyseni coins with their naked woman, I frowned at those. Reach hands from the early reign of King Mern, and even a gold lion of the kingdom of the Rock.
"Leave us." I told the servant. "I will summon you if I have need of your services." I watched him until the sound of his footsteps was far enough away that I felt comfortable, and spoke up to Daemon.
"We need to talk." I said bluntly.
"This had best not be about our earlier discussion, niece. I have no wish to con-" I scowled.
"No. But it did remind me of something. How much do you really think Aegon wants to support you and the house Velaryon?" I asked simply.
"He has promised me the admiralty of his royal fleet, though in truth I hold that position already. Certain taxation relief, and rights to city charters for Driftmark." He stood relaxed, his arms folded over his chest.
"He wants to give Orys a kingdom. Argilac's domain. He would give my half-brother that, and give you practically a pittance. I however have promised you the tariffs of Duskendale, and perhaps even more i-" I was interrupted by my- Visenya's uncle.
"If I support your interests? Visenya, sweet niece, you have no soft touch for this. But I admit your offer intrigues me. You have even shown an aptitude for a delicate hand at conquest, despite your temper." He smiled with the last word, I wanted to hit him. I felt like I was being mocked. "Very well, if you support the interests of my family, then I shall support you."
"That's… it? That's all you needed to hear?" The confusion must have shown on my face because he laughed.
"Of course, though I will not support you if it would mean angering your husband for no benefit. A queen's word is powerful, but your brother-husband's is law." He replied with a wave of his hand, and smiled again. "Is that all you wished to speak of, niece?" The words came out clear and bored.
"For now, certainly." I answered.
"Then we shall speak later. Enjoy your celebration, Archontissa, you have earned it." He smirked, politely bowed, and then turned to walk off with a grace that I envied. The sound of his boots against the floor repeating in almost perfect cycles until I could no longer hear it.
I let out a breath I didn't even know I had been keeping in, and felt relief wash over me.
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Drinking together and telling stories, my cousin and I stood on a balcony looking out toward the docks. Our ships filled the harbor, alongside the ships already there.
Westerosi might call this a town. But it looks a city to me. I remembered hearing it had somewhere over fourteen-thousand people, I could not remember where from.
"You were too harsh to Aethon, cousin." The clear voice of Corlys intoned. Why does he want to talk about this right now? I felt bad about how I had treated Aethon days earlier, but I did not want someone else dredging it up. It's bad enough when I think about it.
I bit my lip as I looked at my cousin, his face illuminated by the light of the moon. His pale blue eyes even more beautiful than his gleaming hair. He idly toyed with the blue felt hat in his hand. It isn't fair.
"I restored his position, is that not enough?" He ran a hand through his hair at that reply, and I felt my cheeks heat up even more as he opened his mouth to speak, but the words did not come out.
"What is it, Corlys?" I asked, wanting to know but also dreading it. "Say what you will, do not fear reprisal."
"I have spent the past day wondering why you wasted time with the siege, when you could have taken this city in hours." He said the words calmly, but with a light frown. "Why do you refuse to turn Vhagar against our enemies?"
"I gained the city without that, Corlys." I replied as calmly as I could.
"By chance alone. If it had not been for your merchant then what would you have done?" His tone was even, but I had stopped looking at his face.
"What is the point of asking? We have the city." I frowned.
"What happens at the next castle, then? Or the next town that refuses to surrender when we have threatened to show them fire and blood?" He pressed, "What happens when you refuse to follow through? They stop fearing you, and your word will mean nothing. A lord who might have surrendered will now stand against you, knowing you lack the will to bathe them in dragonflame." I wanted him to shut up.
I laughed. "Will, you say it is will to turn fire on innocents? If a man takes up a sword, and faces us in the field that is one thing, but I will not burn ten peasants just because a single fighting man hides among them."
"Burn one castle and ten lords will bend their knees. If you care so much for blood on your hands, then consider that." He sounded agitated.
"What have the serving women, the cooks, the stable hands and the smiths done to deserve death? The children, the daughters who have not taken up arms? Why should they die just because some lord hides with them?" I almost shouted.
"They are the enemy, Visenya! They die in war! Their lords choose to fight, and so they are slain! A single castle is a small price to pay!" I was suddenly aware of how much taller a few inches could seem as he looked down at me, I glanced away.
"A small price for who? For my brother? For his desire to conquer and slaughter just for vanity and pride? What makes his dreams worth more than the life of another man? Our enemies do not force us to kill them. We choose to kill, we choose to bring down our blades, we are the ones who came out to attack them. Instead of one castle being sacrificed so that ten might surrender and survive, mayhap we do not attack at all, and let all eleven live." I spat out the words.
"Lucky merchants and guards will not always be there to save your hands from having blood on them, Archontissa. Aegon will simply place another in command, if you continue to show yourself to be naught but some spoiled craven child!" I flinched, and he sighed. "I did not mean that. I onl-"
"What did you mean, then? If not what you said, Ser Corlys?" I made my voice as hard as I could.
"I do not want your problems with the Archon to keep you from doing your duty. Please, consider what I have told you." He let out a weak laugh, "If Aegon relieves you of command, then two dragons might be forced to do the work of three, and even more might die." I doubted his sincerity, but he was right. Rhaenys might die without me around too. I'd be stuck at Dragonstone, most likely, and I could kiss my dream goodbye. Why does my dream have to cost so much blood? I wished I was home, where I didn't have to make these kinds of decisions.
I took a deep breath, and then released it. "If I must, then I will. Men in the field? Fine. I even burned fighting men on the battlements at Stokeworth. But unless it is truly necessary, I will not burn innocents as a first solution." I looked in my cup, noting that there was only a few drops of drink left.
"I can have more wine brought, and we can speak further in the solar." I offered, "About something else, perhaps." I looked up at Corlys, and he shook his head.
"It is late, Visenya." He rubbed the back of his head, "And I find myself weary." He gestured as if to excuse himself.
I spoke up almost without thinking, "I would like to speak with you again. I never did get to hear the story about your short time in the Stepstones." He smiled slightly, though he did look genuinely tired.
"Some other time, then. I will have to tell you." He placed his hat on his head.
I smiled. "I'll hold you to that promise."
He just laughed softly as he walked away, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
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Only a few words, and all this land will just… be ours. The letters were written, and now sealed with the wax of the Lord of Duskendale. Proof that they had come from this castle. That the orders within were genuine and binding. Duskendale is fallen. You will lay down your arms and submit to my brother, your new master, Aegon Targaryen. I had written. Come morning, they would be sent out.
"These will go out to all of the lords and knights sworn to Duskendale?" I asked the grey-robed man, he looked not a day over forty.
"Provided they are not shot down in flight, and that the ravens are not otherwise harmed." He replied politely. His brown eyes fixed on me as I handed him the letters.
"Thank you for your service, Maester…" I did not know if I had already asked. G-d I hope not. If I've asked and forgotten already, that'd be awful. I was too young for dementia, after all. Part of me was paranoid that the man had poisoned my meal or drink somehow, as ridiculous as that idea was. Truth be told, I did not trust anyone in the castle who I did not bring with.
"Kenric, Your Grace. Though it is nothing to thank me for. I am the maester of the Dun Fort, it is my duty to serve the needs of the keep." He said, as if he had noticed my discomfort. I wear my heart almost on my sleeve, of course he's noticed.
"Of course." I nodded, and made sure Dark Sister was still at my side as I dismissed him from my presence with a wave of my hand. His chain clinking and making noise with every step he took. I felt bad that I was relieved when I couldn't hear him anymore. Part of me hated how often I felt bad. Do not apologize, do not regret, you are the blood of the dragonlords. Among the last of those who had ruled the largest empire in the known world.
I relaxed in the high backed chair and took a deep breath. I wish I had your confidence. The real Visenya, while cautious, at least possessed confidence in herself. She acted decisively and with strength. On some level I knew I was her. I remembered her life, it mingled with my own memories, and time and again she had influenced my own thoughts. How much of me is still… me? I felt I had asked the question too many times of late. I could not even remember my own father's face. I knew he had blue eyes, that his hair was mostly grey, and that he was a bit heavier than he was in his prime. But I could not actually remember his face anymore. Was it always this way? I know I was bad at remembering faces… but… this?
I could remember Aerion's face as clearly as if I had seen him only last week. Why do I remember your father and not mine? Why do I miss him? I remembered the man who had taught m- Visenya dragonlore. I remembered riding with him. I remembered being told time after time how I and Aegon needed to be closer, as we'd rule together one day. I remembered a man who choked out the command to Balerion to light Valaena's pyre, a man who cried more than any of us had.
Seeing that the moon had gotten a fair bit higher while I'd been thinking I realized I felt a lot more tired than I had previously and so I rose from my seat, disrobed, and made my way to bed. It has been a long week.
I turned in bed, my heart aching, as the emptiness of the bed seemed to mock me. In a way that even the one at Dragonstone had not. I wanted to be held, to have my hair stroked, and told how pretty I was and how much I was loved. I missed him more strongly than I had in a week. His dark hair, his dark eyes.
Almost without thinking I moved my hand up to wipe a few tears from my eyes, and then calmed myself by evening out my breathing. G-d, what would Rhaenys think if she could see me now? Pity at best, I imagined.
As exhaustion claimed me I could almost feel the sensation of my hair being stroked, and a kiss.
It was a far cry from the more open great hall of Dragonstone, or even Driftmark. Which while not as defensible were better lit and could hold more people. At least the Dun Fort isn't covered in dragons and other horrid iconography and statuary that make it almost tacky. I missed Dragonstone, despite some of the questionable architectural and interior design. I missed the gardens, as relatively sparse as they were, I missed my own chambers, I missed the room containing Aegon's painted table, I missed the Sea Dragon Tower the most, though. The balcony and view of the sea from it, Rhaenys had liked it when we were children. Mother liked it too.
Mo- Valaena, had said that it reminded her of home. What little fathe- Aerion said of her after her death had included how much she often missed Driftmark. She had loved Aerion, and for that she tolerated living in the shadow of the Dragonmont. She had kept secondary chambers at Sea Dragon Tower for when she and Aerion fought. If I slept there, perhaps Aegon might never bother visiting my bed. I sighed.
"What reason have you to be sad, niece?" The voice of Daemon Velaryon reminded me again that he sat beside me at the high table. Dressed in a manner more befitting his ancestors than the velvets and styles he so adored. His hair, as always, was loose and down to his shoulders and catching the candlelight. He wore a teal and silver silk cloak with a silver dragon's head with sapphire eyes, he had the right to it after all. With waves and ships and even sea-horses on the edges of the cloak in silver thread, I recalled that in motion it seemed almost a thing alive. A work of art.
His silk tunic was grey and accented with blue, like both the waves of Dragonstone and Driftmark, and at the sleeves was gold scrollwork and on his hands were three rings set with stones of sapphire and diamond and topaz.
I bit my tongue, keeping my desire to tell him to mind his own business under control. It would not do to be rude to a man who could be a good supporter. "Mother." I replied. I caught the brief change in his expression, confusion turning to his practiced smile.
"My sister is four-and-ten years gone. All men must die, that is a truth ordained by the gods at the dawn of time." He said almost stiffly. I shook my head.
"No, I was merely thinking about how she loved the sea and yet I cannot stand it. I wonder if she would have approved of Aegon, and his vanity and pride." A stifled snort was his response to my lie, his gaze rested on my braid for a second before turning back to my face. His lilac eyes were still not something I was comfortable with, though they were better than they had once felt.
"Valaena was a proud woman, surely you remember that much?" He idly touched at one of his rings. "When we were children, she a girl of two-and-ten, demanded that our father reconsider naming one of his ships for her. She said that she would not settle for anything less than the flagship." Daemon laughed, "When father refused, she convinced your father to take Balerion and have the black beast rake the name off the ship in the dead of night."
"How did he manage to do that unnoticed?" I asked, curious.
"He did not. He was caught, and my father was furious. Both of your grandfathers were. In an audience before your grandfather the Archon of Dragonstone, My father threatened to deny Aerion rights to visit Driftmark. And before the Dragon's Throne, your father, a boy of three-and-ten said he would seat Valaena on the Driftwood Throne before he would allow her to be dishonored with such an unworthy ship. Daemion laughed, and ordered my father to build a ship worthy of his future Archontissa." Daemon smiled ruefully.
"What happened then?" A part of me wanted to hear more of the story, another part just wanted to learn more about her mother and father.
"Daemion took your father aside to his solar, and struck him thrice. Once for being moonstruck, once for causing him such trouble by damaging the property of his vassal, and lastly for acting in a manner unbefitting his station. Aerion bore that bruise on his face proudly." Daemon leaned back ever so slightly in his chair, eyes slightly glazed over as if in memory. "He told me he knew his father would do it, and that he'd have taken such punishment again."
"He did all that for mother?" I asked, I had known Aerion loved Valaena, but had figured it was something that had grown over the marriage. Daemon smiled in a way that reached his eyes.
"He loved her more than he loved flying, or so he told me." His smile dimmed, and a frown creased his features, "I believed him at the time. Maybe he even believed it himself. Still, he dishonored her after your sister was born and I cannot forgive that."
I tried to figure out what he was talking about. The only thing I could think of was Orys' birth after Aegon's. But he was older than Rhaenys by a year. Did he misremember Orys' age? I was confused, and it must have shown on my face as he simply waved his hand dismissively.
"We will speak of this later if we speak of this at all, niece." And that was that.
I passed a few more minutes by chatting with Vaeron who sat at my other side. Finding my mood lifted and myself giggling after he told a fairly bawdy joke that he'd heard from one of his older brothers. It felt good to laugh.
"Praise to the Archontissa! Glory to our Queen!" Came the voices of the men deemed of high enough status to dine within the great hall of the Dun Fort, the castle I had captured but hours before. More a grand fortress than a stout castle, at least compared to the castles from home. I found myself again admiring the skill and scale at which the Westerosi built their seats.
I cleared my throat, and raised a goblet filled with a heavily watered down Dornish red, "Praise to those who have followed me, and glory to my family in whose name I have conquered!" A cheer and claps, numerous though not particularly loud ones, were the response I received.
My gaze passed over the great hall more thoroughly. From the banners of simple black and red hanging in place of the old Darklyn ones to the entrances to the hall itself. There were a fair number, leading to various places and hallways within the greater keep. I still need to inspect those coffers. I felt antsy in a way I hadn't before, but took a breath in and out to calm myself.
Finishing what I felt I needed to eat, I had my hands washed off and dried as I rose to my feet and cleared my throat. "Valiant men of my host, continue celebrating, the wine is plentiful here and will flow freely. I must leave you now to inspect what my efforts have won!" I raised my goblet once more, "To victory!" I shouted.
"May it be everlasting!" Came the traditional reply. From over a hundred mouths.
I turned my attention to Daemon, "You are coming with me, uncle." He bristled ever so slightly for a moment, but he stood up and followed me as I left the great hall. Having gotten a guide earlier. Part of me was still worried that they weren't to be trusted, and that I would find out the next morning that the men I'd set to guarding Robert Darklyn had been slain and he'd escaped from his tower cell. Cell is too harsh a word for it. He has nicer accommodations than most men in their own homes.
Daemon respectfully kept his stride shorter than mine and walked slightly behind me though still at my side as we made our way through the keep to where the treasury was. A lanky though balding man, in Darklyn livery, was our guide through the expansive castle. The hallways were nice and even richly decorated with luxurious rugs across many parts, but they were not a match for those of Dragonstone. The Dun Fort may have been the seat of kings in the past, but Dragonstone is the home of the dragonlords. I remembered that in Old Valyria, our family had vast estates and wealth such that it made most Westerosi lords and kings seem paupers. Aenar came to Dragonstone with that wealth, and spent as though our family still had the same revenues.
His son Gaemon took copious bribes to stay out of the affairs of the Free Cities, and spent vast amounts of treasure on maintaining the old lifestyle of the dragonlords. Throwing lavish parties and turning Dragonstone from a dreary keep into the seat fit for our family. With many decorations of gold and silver added in his time, and statues of himself built out of those precious metals and placed in the courtyards of our home. In his time he built a grand fleet to match that of Lys, and he had to sell some few items of Valyrian steel in order to pay for and maintain it. For his efforts many called him the Glorious.
Then came Aegon and Elaena. Who saw their father's work and desired to surpass it. Though solely in the opulence of their court. The bribes they received were fewer, and they let the fleet fall into disrepair rather than maintaining it, and they too sold items of Valyrian steel. This time including one of our family swords, rather than some trinkets and jewelry. Maegon was much the same, and after they passed he ruled for ten years and sold another one of the family swords.
Aerys, my great-grandfather, ruled for a time and he was miserly indeed. He stopped the spending, and sat on his growing wealth for his entire time as Archon. Much like a dragon with its hoard. I smiled.
But then he died, and his son Aelyx came to rule Dragonstone. My grandfather murdered him, and his children and slew Baelon next with the support of the Lord of Driftmark, my other grandfather. Daemion's long reign saw the nadir of our wealth and strength. He sold the last of our Valyrian steel items aside from our swords and the primary diadem, including the consort's diadem, he killed various dragon hatchlings and prevented the hatching of new ones until it was announced that my mother was pregnant. He spent ruinous amounts on gifts to foreign rulers, and emptied the coffers of Dragonstone on multiple occasions.
It is good you do not remember him, little brother and sister. I barely remembered the man, and his eyes still frightened me. His skin was smooth and seemingly untouched by the years, even as sickness had ravaged his body in other ways. His eyes were haunting, and piercing. I resisted the urge to shake my head, and my heart hurt as I remembered my father. He had been a broken man after m-, Valaena, had passed but he had spent his entire time as Archon rebuilding what our ancestors had ruined. Prudent rulership led to Driftmark and Dragonstone flourishing and increased wealth from trade. He expanded our influence as far as Stonedance. He was forced to sell one of our family swords in order to pay off debts accumulated by our grandfather. Where once we had five, now only two. He even wrote an entire book on dragonlore, after burning many of those texts our family once had. A fair number of scrolls of sorcery. Without h-
"Your Grace." I blinked as I was snapped back to reality. The lanky man bowing to me as the vault doors were opened, and I was startled at how much gold was there. Gold and silver and other valuables. I'd never seen that much gold in one place in my life. Dragonstone is decently wealthy, but… not like this.
"With this much gold he could afford…. An army. There are plenty of mercenaries in Westeros. If he'd waited he could have brought down ten thousand men, maybe." My mind swam with possibilities. I could do something with this wealth. I could afford the finest mercenaries the East has to offer. I wondered if I even needed to pay mercenaries in gold, some might accept land after all, and settled foreigners reliant upon the throne's continued success were more reliable than sellswords.
"It would make little difference against Balerion and the army your brother and half-brother led north to meet Mooton and Darklyn." Daemon chuckled.
I gathered up thirty gold coins and murmured softly, "I will have these given to the men who got us this city without much bloodshed. A promise is a promise, after all." I turned the coins over. There were several kinds. Including a few with the face of Horonno pressed into them. Volantene honors. They had to be at least thirty years old. Lyseni coins with their naked woman, I frowned at those. Reach hands from the early reign of King Mern, and even a gold lion of the kingdom of the Rock.
"Leave us." I told the servant. "I will summon you if I have need of your services." I watched him until the sound of his footsteps was far enough away that I felt comfortable, and spoke up to Daemon.
"We need to talk." I said bluntly.
"This had best not be about our earlier discussion, niece. I have no wish to con-" I scowled.
"No. But it did remind me of something. How much do you really think Aegon wants to support you and the house Velaryon?" I asked simply.
"He has promised me the admiralty of his royal fleet, though in truth I hold that position already. Certain taxation relief, and rights to city charters for Driftmark." He stood relaxed, his arms folded over his chest.
"He wants to give Orys a kingdom. Argilac's domain. He would give my half-brother that, and give you practically a pittance. I however have promised you the tariffs of Duskendale, and perhaps even more i-" I was interrupted by my- Visenya's uncle.
"If I support your interests? Visenya, sweet niece, you have no soft touch for this. But I admit your offer intrigues me. You have even shown an aptitude for a delicate hand at conquest, despite your temper." He smiled with the last word, I wanted to hit him. I felt like I was being mocked. "Very well, if you support the interests of my family, then I shall support you."
"That's… it? That's all you needed to hear?" The confusion must have shown on my face because he laughed.
"Of course, though I will not support you if it would mean angering your husband for no benefit. A queen's word is powerful, but your brother-husband's is law." He replied with a wave of his hand, and smiled again. "Is that all you wished to speak of, niece?" The words came out clear and bored.
"For now, certainly." I answered.
"Then we shall speak later. Enjoy your celebration, Archontissa, you have earned it." He smirked, politely bowed, and then turned to walk off with a grace that I envied. The sound of his boots against the floor repeating in almost perfect cycles until I could no longer hear it.
I let out a breath I didn't even know I had been keeping in, and felt relief wash over me.
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Drinking together and telling stories, my cousin and I stood on a balcony looking out toward the docks. Our ships filled the harbor, alongside the ships already there.
Westerosi might call this a town. But it looks a city to me. I remembered hearing it had somewhere over fourteen-thousand people, I could not remember where from.
"You were too harsh to Aethon, cousin." The clear voice of Corlys intoned. Why does he want to talk about this right now? I felt bad about how I had treated Aethon days earlier, but I did not want someone else dredging it up. It's bad enough when I think about it.
I bit my lip as I looked at my cousin, his face illuminated by the light of the moon. His pale blue eyes even more beautiful than his gleaming hair. He idly toyed with the blue felt hat in his hand. It isn't fair.
"I restored his position, is that not enough?" He ran a hand through his hair at that reply, and I felt my cheeks heat up even more as he opened his mouth to speak, but the words did not come out.
"What is it, Corlys?" I asked, wanting to know but also dreading it. "Say what you will, do not fear reprisal."
"I have spent the past day wondering why you wasted time with the siege, when you could have taken this city in hours." He said the words calmly, but with a light frown. "Why do you refuse to turn Vhagar against our enemies?"
"I gained the city without that, Corlys." I replied as calmly as I could.
"By chance alone. If it had not been for your merchant then what would you have done?" His tone was even, but I had stopped looking at his face.
"What is the point of asking? We have the city." I frowned.
"What happens at the next castle, then? Or the next town that refuses to surrender when we have threatened to show them fire and blood?" He pressed, "What happens when you refuse to follow through? They stop fearing you, and your word will mean nothing. A lord who might have surrendered will now stand against you, knowing you lack the will to bathe them in dragonflame." I wanted him to shut up.
I laughed. "Will, you say it is will to turn fire on innocents? If a man takes up a sword, and faces us in the field that is one thing, but I will not burn ten peasants just because a single fighting man hides among them."
"Burn one castle and ten lords will bend their knees. If you care so much for blood on your hands, then consider that." He sounded agitated.
"What have the serving women, the cooks, the stable hands and the smiths done to deserve death? The children, the daughters who have not taken up arms? Why should they die just because some lord hides with them?" I almost shouted.
"They are the enemy, Visenya! They die in war! Their lords choose to fight, and so they are slain! A single castle is a small price to pay!" I was suddenly aware of how much taller a few inches could seem as he looked down at me, I glanced away.
"A small price for who? For my brother? For his desire to conquer and slaughter just for vanity and pride? What makes his dreams worth more than the life of another man? Our enemies do not force us to kill them. We choose to kill, we choose to bring down our blades, we are the ones who came out to attack them. Instead of one castle being sacrificed so that ten might surrender and survive, mayhap we do not attack at all, and let all eleven live." I spat out the words.
"Lucky merchants and guards will not always be there to save your hands from having blood on them, Archontissa. Aegon will simply place another in command, if you continue to show yourself to be naught but some spoiled craven child!" I flinched, and he sighed. "I did not mean that. I onl-"
"What did you mean, then? If not what you said, Ser Corlys?" I made my voice as hard as I could.
"I do not want your problems with the Archon to keep you from doing your duty. Please, consider what I have told you." He let out a weak laugh, "If Aegon relieves you of command, then two dragons might be forced to do the work of three, and even more might die." I doubted his sincerity, but he was right. Rhaenys might die without me around too. I'd be stuck at Dragonstone, most likely, and I could kiss my dream goodbye. Why does my dream have to cost so much blood? I wished I was home, where I didn't have to make these kinds of decisions.
I took a deep breath, and then released it. "If I must, then I will. Men in the field? Fine. I even burned fighting men on the battlements at Stokeworth. But unless it is truly necessary, I will not burn innocents as a first solution." I looked in my cup, noting that there was only a few drops of drink left.
"I can have more wine brought, and we can speak further in the solar." I offered, "About something else, perhaps." I looked up at Corlys, and he shook his head.
"It is late, Visenya." He rubbed the back of his head, "And I find myself weary." He gestured as if to excuse himself.
I spoke up almost without thinking, "I would like to speak with you again. I never did get to hear the story about your short time in the Stepstones." He smiled slightly, though he did look genuinely tired.
"Some other time, then. I will have to tell you." He placed his hat on his head.
I smiled. "I'll hold you to that promise."
He just laughed softly as he walked away, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
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Only a few words, and all this land will just… be ours. The letters were written, and now sealed with the wax of the Lord of Duskendale. Proof that they had come from this castle. That the orders within were genuine and binding. Duskendale is fallen. You will lay down your arms and submit to my brother, your new master, Aegon Targaryen. I had written. Come morning, they would be sent out.
"These will go out to all of the lords and knights sworn to Duskendale?" I asked the grey-robed man, he looked not a day over forty.
"Provided they are not shot down in flight, and that the ravens are not otherwise harmed." He replied politely. His brown eyes fixed on me as I handed him the letters.
"Thank you for your service, Maester…" I did not know if I had already asked. G-d I hope not. If I've asked and forgotten already, that'd be awful. I was too young for dementia, after all. Part of me was paranoid that the man had poisoned my meal or drink somehow, as ridiculous as that idea was. Truth be told, I did not trust anyone in the castle who I did not bring with.
"Kenric, Your Grace. Though it is nothing to thank me for. I am the maester of the Dun Fort, it is my duty to serve the needs of the keep." He said, as if he had noticed my discomfort. I wear my heart almost on my sleeve, of course he's noticed.
"Of course." I nodded, and made sure Dark Sister was still at my side as I dismissed him from my presence with a wave of my hand. His chain clinking and making noise with every step he took. I felt bad that I was relieved when I couldn't hear him anymore. Part of me hated how often I felt bad. Do not apologize, do not regret, you are the blood of the dragonlords. Among the last of those who had ruled the largest empire in the known world.
I relaxed in the high backed chair and took a deep breath. I wish I had your confidence. The real Visenya, while cautious, at least possessed confidence in herself. She acted decisively and with strength. On some level I knew I was her. I remembered her life, it mingled with my own memories, and time and again she had influenced my own thoughts. How much of me is still… me? I felt I had asked the question too many times of late. I could not even remember my own father's face. I knew he had blue eyes, that his hair was mostly grey, and that he was a bit heavier than he was in his prime. But I could not actually remember his face anymore. Was it always this way? I know I was bad at remembering faces… but… this?
I could remember Aerion's face as clearly as if I had seen him only last week. Why do I remember your father and not mine? Why do I miss him? I remembered the man who had taught m- Visenya dragonlore. I remembered riding with him. I remembered being told time after time how I and Aegon needed to be closer, as we'd rule together one day. I remembered a man who choked out the command to Balerion to light Valaena's pyre, a man who cried more than any of us had.
Seeing that the moon had gotten a fair bit higher while I'd been thinking I realized I felt a lot more tired than I had previously and so I rose from my seat, disrobed, and made my way to bed. It has been a long week.
I turned in bed, my heart aching, as the emptiness of the bed seemed to mock me. In a way that even the one at Dragonstone had not. I wanted to be held, to have my hair stroked, and told how pretty I was and how much I was loved. I missed him more strongly than I had in a week. His dark hair, his dark eyes.
Almost without thinking I moved my hand up to wipe a few tears from my eyes, and then calmed myself by evening out my breathing. G-d, what would Rhaenys think if she could see me now? Pity at best, I imagined.
As exhaustion claimed me I could almost feel the sensation of my hair being stroked, and a kiss.
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Chapter Nine: One Woman's Parade Is Another Man's Walk of Shame
Soon, it'll be time. I smiled slightly.
The sight of the hills in the distance, of the fortified camps which had grown since I'd last been here, the smoke from so many cook fires and the smattering of fishing villages brought a sense of joy I hadn't felt in some time. Of expectation. At the same time, it felt as though the ship was not moving fast enough. That the land was too far from me. So close, go faster!
It wasn't the fault of the rowers that the winds hadn't been kind these past two days. A twinge of guilt surged in me as I thought of how hard the men had to be working just to meet Aegon's deadline. How many men did you lose against Mooton and Darklyn, brother? How many men met their end to the black flames of father's.. Of your Balerion? I ignored the men working on the deck.
Had I taken Vhagar I could have been back sooner. But the thought of returning with the coffers of Duskendale, of the surprise I'd had prepared that wouldn't work if I returned early. My achievement, Aegon. Not yours. I smiled, even as the wind caressed my cheeks. I could almost see the faces of Rhaenys and Aegon in my mind's eye. Of my walking down the ship bridge, spoils in tow and my banner held up proudly. What did you gain, little brother? Blood and death and broken men kneeling? I bring gold and silken banners without a drop of blood spilled.
The distant camps grew closer by the minute and yet still I felt as though we couldn't move fast enough. I half-regretted my desire to stay with the ships before pushing that regret down. I won't let it be stolen.
I gently balled my hand into a fist. The mid-morning sun reflecting off the silvered-scale I wore rather than the bronze I and Rhaenys had borne. A part of me felt almost sad, at abandoning the traditional bronze. I did not know whether that part was the actual Visenya, or me feeling sentimental over something like that, or both. Still, my cloak was the same as normal. On my brow rested a circlet though wrought of plain silver rather than the leather worn traditionally borne by the polemarchs of Old Valyria. As I rested my hand on the hilt of Dark Sister I wondered what kind of figure I cut.
A more radiant one than they deserve. I thought, a part of me feeling confident and strong.
My thoughts returned to Robert Darklyn, a prisoner on the Sweet Sister, and soon to be presented to Aegon. I felt nervous at the thought of Aegon not approving of my stripping them of lands. He'll have to deal with it, it was a very public proclamation after all. Every vassal of the Darklyns had been sent the message, and it was announced to Duskendale by every man who'd shout it for a silver coin.
I spun on my heel and returned to see the distinguished guest below deck. Taking my time getting there, and making sure to double up on guards so that he didn't try to pull anything tricky.
I pushed down the twinge of guilt I felt when I saw him. Certainly, he was fed and clothed and treated well. His dark hair was a bit messy, he looked tired, and the lack of sleep had certainly done his plain features no favors either. But he was not mistreated. Yet. What can I call what I have planned except for mistreatment? I brushed the feeling off. He had crossbowmen lying in wait, and would have used them too, if I hadn't bluffed. He deserves it. He should have just been left to rot in a gutter, why should he live better than a beggar? What makes him special?
What makes you so special? The thought pierced, but I shoved it aside.
Ser Robert Darklyn just stared at me. A fairly neutral expression on his face. He wore clothing befitting a lord of his house. It's too bad we don't have gold ones. The thought of him in gold fetters made me both amused, and ashamed.
"Clean yourself up, Darklyn. I need you to look presentable." I laughed softly.
I just managed to catch the flicker of anger in his expression before he concealed it, and calmly replied, "For what, Your Grace?"
I smiled, "Why, my dear Ser Darklyn, we've a parade to attend." Laughing, I walked out to check on the banners I'd taken from the Dun Fort as well as the coffers of Duskendale I kept on the Sweet Sister.
Aegon and his sisters? No, they'll remember more than just Aegon. I'm not… I'm not his accessory. I passed the time until we'd made landfall by taking a short rest to center myself. He won't steal it from me.
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Every eye in the outer camps was on me as I led my prisoners through fairly publicly on my way to the main camp itself. I'd noticed it had expanded a bit since I had left. The walls had been raised higher and in just ten days a good amount of progress had been made in building the hovel that if I recalled correctly would be named the Aegonfort proper, to be torn down decades later. Decades to realize a shack of wood and shit isn't a fit palace for the royal capital? Part of me was deflated as I wondered if perhaps it had been Rhaenys' death that delayed it.
I resisted the urge to shake my head to clear my thoughts. I must look dignified. A queen does not shake her head in such a way when all can see her.
The hundred men I had behind and beside me provided my escort into the camps. Men in mail and scale and leather and cloth, in caps of felt or iron, and guarding the prisoners which were easily picked out by their chains. Fighting men from the camps jeered at the captives, and others cheered at me as I and my sorry retinue passed through. A man, barely more than a boy, carried my banner. My banner, not yours, brother. It was made with haste, though the green dragon looked serviceable enough, and the eight-rayed silver star above the dragon… the sight of the banner fluttering in the wind as it was first unfurled had my heart almost stopping. I had had to keep the tears from my eyes. What would you think of it, my love?
Gold and silver glinted as several small chests filled with coin were carried by servants and soldiers both, a sampling of the riches of Duskendale, to be seen by those in the camps. Tokens of my success. Small though it may be, it is mine.
And so it continued through the way to the camp at the highest hill. I had ordered coins tossed every now and then to camp servants and soldiers and relished in the cheers I received. Every step toward Aegon's camp, toward our camp, felt like the party I'd never had as a child. I was the center of attention. I got the praise. This was my accomplishment.
Aegon's face when the makeshift gate of his camp was opened went through amusement, then confusion and finally comprehension as his gaze swept over myself and my entourage. Fixated on the banner, and then back to myself. Do you see, Aegon? I clamped down on the nervousness when it peeked its ugly head even as the men that followed me did as had been planned, and carried off the prizes of wealth to outside of my tent, and the others watched the prisoners. Aegon nodded his head expectantly.
He was dressed much as he had been of late, though the tunic he wore was definitely not the same, a longer cut with different shapes sewn into the hem and cuffs. More flames, and fewer dragons. As well, the thread trim was gold instead of red.
I saw Rhaenys, clad in bronze scale, and a tension I hadn't known was there seemed to flow away. Her hair hung loosely, curling at the ends, with the bangs framing her lilac eyes. My heart seemed to drop down to my stomach when I saw that the smile she had didn't reach her eyes. I felt acutely more aware of the presence of the circlet I bore.
"Welcome sister, " Aegon began, a smile just as forced as Rhaenys' gracing his features, "I should hope that this.." He swept an arm, indicating the men following behind me, the treasure, and the prisoners. "Means you were successful in the task that I set for you." A deaf man could not have missed the emphasis he placed on the word 'task'.
You are Visenya. A Queen. I bowed my head ever so slightly, "Not a single man died, husband. On our side or that of the enemy." Aegon's expression showed a hint of confusion as he looked at Robert Darklyn in chains as well as the other prisoners.
"It seems the men of Duskendale did not wish to burn with their lord. They threw the gates open for our men to seize the city after Ser Darklyn refused our generous offer." Without Lothar it could not have been done. I'll have to pay him back for that. Perhaps I could offer his son a job? A loyal knight could be useful.
Aegon seemed to smile genuinely for a moment before turning his attention to Darklyn and the rest of the prisoners. Assorted household knights and such. He waved off Ser Darklyn's guards. I felt on edge. He has Blackfyre, and Darklyn is unarmed. I reminded myself.
Robert Darklyn looked downright miserable. Does your pride hurt? Is that it?
"Had you knelt, you would have remained a lord, Darklyn. Still," The smile turned to a smirk as Aegon moved closer, barely a pace away, "You need not be a lord to attend my coronation, and I must insist on your attendance." Darklyn's face reddened.
"To make a mockery of gods and men? To piss in my face, leave me a plot of land and say I should be grateful?! My family have ruled Duskendale for near as long as your kind have fucked your sisters!" Aegon's smile lapsed for a moment, and I saw genuine anger in his eyes.
"Be glad I am not like my ancestors, Darklyn. Such disrespect in Old Valyria would get your tongue cut out." Aegon laughed and turned around, "Take care not to speak so crudely to me again, Ser Darklyn."
I nearly froze as I saw Robert lunge at my brother. Dark Sister out of her sheath almost as fast as I'd thought of doing so.
I needn't have bothered, as he not only had missed the mark, but was tackled to the ground with ease by mail clad guardsmen. A glance at Rhaenys showed her own sword was out as well, and I somewhat shakily sheathed Dark Sister once more.
I'm glad you are unharmed. I did not know whether I meant Aegon, or Rhaenys, or even both.
The sight of the hills in the distance, of the fortified camps which had grown since I'd last been here, the smoke from so many cook fires and the smattering of fishing villages brought a sense of joy I hadn't felt in some time. Of expectation. At the same time, it felt as though the ship was not moving fast enough. That the land was too far from me. So close, go faster!
It wasn't the fault of the rowers that the winds hadn't been kind these past two days. A twinge of guilt surged in me as I thought of how hard the men had to be working just to meet Aegon's deadline. How many men did you lose against Mooton and Darklyn, brother? How many men met their end to the black flames of father's.. Of your Balerion? I ignored the men working on the deck.
Had I taken Vhagar I could have been back sooner. But the thought of returning with the coffers of Duskendale, of the surprise I'd had prepared that wouldn't work if I returned early. My achievement, Aegon. Not yours. I smiled, even as the wind caressed my cheeks. I could almost see the faces of Rhaenys and Aegon in my mind's eye. Of my walking down the ship bridge, spoils in tow and my banner held up proudly. What did you gain, little brother? Blood and death and broken men kneeling? I bring gold and silken banners without a drop of blood spilled.
The distant camps grew closer by the minute and yet still I felt as though we couldn't move fast enough. I half-regretted my desire to stay with the ships before pushing that regret down. I won't let it be stolen.
I gently balled my hand into a fist. The mid-morning sun reflecting off the silvered-scale I wore rather than the bronze I and Rhaenys had borne. A part of me felt almost sad, at abandoning the traditional bronze. I did not know whether that part was the actual Visenya, or me feeling sentimental over something like that, or both. Still, my cloak was the same as normal. On my brow rested a circlet though wrought of plain silver rather than the leather worn traditionally borne by the polemarchs of Old Valyria. As I rested my hand on the hilt of Dark Sister I wondered what kind of figure I cut.
A more radiant one than they deserve. I thought, a part of me feeling confident and strong.
My thoughts returned to Robert Darklyn, a prisoner on the Sweet Sister, and soon to be presented to Aegon. I felt nervous at the thought of Aegon not approving of my stripping them of lands. He'll have to deal with it, it was a very public proclamation after all. Every vassal of the Darklyns had been sent the message, and it was announced to Duskendale by every man who'd shout it for a silver coin.
I spun on my heel and returned to see the distinguished guest below deck. Taking my time getting there, and making sure to double up on guards so that he didn't try to pull anything tricky.
I pushed down the twinge of guilt I felt when I saw him. Certainly, he was fed and clothed and treated well. His dark hair was a bit messy, he looked tired, and the lack of sleep had certainly done his plain features no favors either. But he was not mistreated. Yet. What can I call what I have planned except for mistreatment? I brushed the feeling off. He had crossbowmen lying in wait, and would have used them too, if I hadn't bluffed. He deserves it. He should have just been left to rot in a gutter, why should he live better than a beggar? What makes him special?
What makes you so special? The thought pierced, but I shoved it aside.
Ser Robert Darklyn just stared at me. A fairly neutral expression on his face. He wore clothing befitting a lord of his house. It's too bad we don't have gold ones. The thought of him in gold fetters made me both amused, and ashamed.
"Clean yourself up, Darklyn. I need you to look presentable." I laughed softly.
I just managed to catch the flicker of anger in his expression before he concealed it, and calmly replied, "For what, Your Grace?"
I smiled, "Why, my dear Ser Darklyn, we've a parade to attend." Laughing, I walked out to check on the banners I'd taken from the Dun Fort as well as the coffers of Duskendale I kept on the Sweet Sister.
Aegon and his sisters? No, they'll remember more than just Aegon. I'm not… I'm not his accessory. I passed the time until we'd made landfall by taking a short rest to center myself. He won't steal it from me.
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Every eye in the outer camps was on me as I led my prisoners through fairly publicly on my way to the main camp itself. I'd noticed it had expanded a bit since I had left. The walls had been raised higher and in just ten days a good amount of progress had been made in building the hovel that if I recalled correctly would be named the Aegonfort proper, to be torn down decades later. Decades to realize a shack of wood and shit isn't a fit palace for the royal capital? Part of me was deflated as I wondered if perhaps it had been Rhaenys' death that delayed it.
I resisted the urge to shake my head to clear my thoughts. I must look dignified. A queen does not shake her head in such a way when all can see her.
The hundred men I had behind and beside me provided my escort into the camps. Men in mail and scale and leather and cloth, in caps of felt or iron, and guarding the prisoners which were easily picked out by their chains. Fighting men from the camps jeered at the captives, and others cheered at me as I and my sorry retinue passed through. A man, barely more than a boy, carried my banner. My banner, not yours, brother. It was made with haste, though the green dragon looked serviceable enough, and the eight-rayed silver star above the dragon… the sight of the banner fluttering in the wind as it was first unfurled had my heart almost stopping. I had had to keep the tears from my eyes. What would you think of it, my love?
Gold and silver glinted as several small chests filled with coin were carried by servants and soldiers both, a sampling of the riches of Duskendale, to be seen by those in the camps. Tokens of my success. Small though it may be, it is mine.
And so it continued through the way to the camp at the highest hill. I had ordered coins tossed every now and then to camp servants and soldiers and relished in the cheers I received. Every step toward Aegon's camp, toward our camp, felt like the party I'd never had as a child. I was the center of attention. I got the praise. This was my accomplishment.
Aegon's face when the makeshift gate of his camp was opened went through amusement, then confusion and finally comprehension as his gaze swept over myself and my entourage. Fixated on the banner, and then back to myself. Do you see, Aegon? I clamped down on the nervousness when it peeked its ugly head even as the men that followed me did as had been planned, and carried off the prizes of wealth to outside of my tent, and the others watched the prisoners. Aegon nodded his head expectantly.
He was dressed much as he had been of late, though the tunic he wore was definitely not the same, a longer cut with different shapes sewn into the hem and cuffs. More flames, and fewer dragons. As well, the thread trim was gold instead of red.
I saw Rhaenys, clad in bronze scale, and a tension I hadn't known was there seemed to flow away. Her hair hung loosely, curling at the ends, with the bangs framing her lilac eyes. My heart seemed to drop down to my stomach when I saw that the smile she had didn't reach her eyes. I felt acutely more aware of the presence of the circlet I bore.
"Welcome sister, " Aegon began, a smile just as forced as Rhaenys' gracing his features, "I should hope that this.." He swept an arm, indicating the men following behind me, the treasure, and the prisoners. "Means you were successful in the task that I set for you." A deaf man could not have missed the emphasis he placed on the word 'task'.
You are Visenya. A Queen. I bowed my head ever so slightly, "Not a single man died, husband. On our side or that of the enemy." Aegon's expression showed a hint of confusion as he looked at Robert Darklyn in chains as well as the other prisoners.
"It seems the men of Duskendale did not wish to burn with their lord. They threw the gates open for our men to seize the city after Ser Darklyn refused our generous offer." Without Lothar it could not have been done. I'll have to pay him back for that. Perhaps I could offer his son a job? A loyal knight could be useful.
Aegon seemed to smile genuinely for a moment before turning his attention to Darklyn and the rest of the prisoners. Assorted household knights and such. He waved off Ser Darklyn's guards. I felt on edge. He has Blackfyre, and Darklyn is unarmed. I reminded myself.
Robert Darklyn looked downright miserable. Does your pride hurt? Is that it?
"Had you knelt, you would have remained a lord, Darklyn. Still," The smile turned to a smirk as Aegon moved closer, barely a pace away, "You need not be a lord to attend my coronation, and I must insist on your attendance." Darklyn's face reddened.
"To make a mockery of gods and men? To piss in my face, leave me a plot of land and say I should be grateful?! My family have ruled Duskendale for near as long as your kind have fucked your sisters!" Aegon's smile lapsed for a moment, and I saw genuine anger in his eyes.
"Be glad I am not like my ancestors, Darklyn. Such disrespect in Old Valyria would get your tongue cut out." Aegon laughed and turned around, "Take care not to speak so crudely to me again, Ser Darklyn."
I nearly froze as I saw Robert lunge at my brother. Dark Sister out of her sheath almost as fast as I'd thought of doing so.
I needn't have bothered, as he not only had missed the mark, but was tackled to the ground with ease by mail clad guardsmen. A glance at Rhaenys showed her own sword was out as well, and I somewhat shakily sheathed Dark Sister once more.
I'm glad you are unharmed. I did not know whether I meant Aegon, or Rhaenys, or even both.
Chapter Ten: Night-time Talks and a Mid-day Coronation
Sighing, I set down my drink and walked back to where I had sat for the past hour since the incident with Darklyn had finished, and we had all chosen to break off for the time. After all, Rhaenys went to scout. An excuse for flight. I smiled, as the thought of her normally made me do.
I blinked at the codex, trying to read in the dim light. Though I had grown used to lamplight, I still missed lightbulbs. It was an odd thought. I shook my head and looked down, this time focusing and clearing out distractions. My finger on the page to help me focus, it was something I had never done, but that Visenya did out of habit to keep track if she ever had to read something lengthy.
The Andal races place great value on freedom. They are bold and undaunted in battle. Daring and imperious as they are, they consider any timidity and even a short retreat as a disgrace. They calmly despise death as they fight violently in hand-to-hand combat either on horseback or on foot... Whether on foot or on horseback, they draw up for battle, not in any fixed measure and formation, or in regiments or divisions, but according to houses, their ties with one another, and common interest… And so on, went the words of Maerys, a polemarch.. Campaign commander, during the time of the Freehold. Half of the manual by the woman who defeated the Andal raids on Myrish settlements was utterly racist crap, mixed in with genuinely good advice about dealing with various enemies the Daughters of Valyria had encountered over the centuries, and a lot of common sense that apparently officers needed to be reminded of. Who'd have fucking thought that keeping your camps organized, clean, and not eating near where you shit would be things that a notable general had to tell the men reading this.
I still enjoyed it for the glimpse it gave into the thoughts of a woman dead for over a thousand years. I could almost forget I was sitting in a tent while reading. As the words of a woman giving an anecdote about the Great Grass Sea or the Rhoyne would fill my mind and sweep me away. I missed reading for pleasure like this. I hadn't known how much until now.
A gentle jingling noise was all it took to cause the images of stone forts built on hilly lands, of the thought of men in scale and their horses armored crashing into the enemy line and sending them scattering, to melt away. Almost without thinking I turned to see where the noise was coming from, my hand reaching for my sword as my heart pounded.
"Rhaenys?" It was her, certainly. Dressed as she had been, though with the addition of a necklace I did not recognize, and a small bell in her hand. One fit more for a cat's collar than anything else. Her hair was hanging loosely this time.
"We have not spoken in some time, 'Senya." She said simply, her silver hair taking in the candlelight as she sat down with a grace I found myself envying. I rolled my eyes and smiled.
"It is quite hard to speak with you from the ships, and so far away as well." I laughed softly, "What is with the bell?" I pointed at it. "Am I a servant, that you need to summon me to do some task?" I smirked.
She returned the smile, "No, but when last I tried to gain your attention without first giving warning you nearly broke my arm." I felt my cheeks burn a bit, she was exaggerating, but I was not particularly gentle when disturbed. "I had this bell made that I might avoid that sort of unpleasantness."
I snorted. "So, how have the past ten days treated you, little sister?" I tilted my head, my braid swinging gently and touching my elbow. She did not take her eyes off me, something that had unsettled me at first, but I had since resigned myself to maintaining eye contact when speaking. It was what Visenya did, after all.
"I managed what men were left behind after you left with our uncle and Aegon with Orys. Have you seen the Lords' camp? That is what the soldiers are calling my camp now." She idly toyed with a bit of her hair, one of her bangs that were framing her face. I frowned.
"Is that where Stokeworth and the other Westerosi are?" She nodded.
"Under close guard, even more than the ones that Aegon defeated in battle and managed to survive. Mooton's nephew passed just this morning. He was not strong enough to survive the burns he gained." I felt a lot more tired just hearing that. "It is a shame, apparently he was rather handsome before he rode against us."
I tried to shove the discomfort away, and gave as flat a response as I could. "Handsome? Are you not a married woman, sister?" She laughed in reply. I was certain that if she could, she would have shoved me.
"'Senya, I can appreciate a man's looks without wishing to bed him. He would never have been worthy of me. No man who is bound to the earth can be." I believed it. She only grudgingly flew Aegon around with her on Meraxes before he had tamed Balerion. Better than the few times he had needed my aid in flying to some place or another. Only a week after our wedding, we'd visited the Citadel.
"Here I thought you only bedded Aegon for his looks." I laughed, and at the look of frustration on Rhaenys' face that she covered fairly quickly, I felt a pang of guilt. "I apologize, Rhaenys. I should not have spoken so."
"I would have thought you understood." She sighed, "You loved a man, surely you know what I feel." She really does. I felt even worse. I opened my mouth, but she raised a hand. "No. We will not, not now. I came here to speak with my sister, not to argue with you over our husband." I just wanted to make this right, and I didn't know how.
So we just sat there, until she broke the silence.
"Your… device. What is it? I presume the green dragon is for Vhagar, but the star?" She asked, looking thoughtful and curious, "The star…" She pursed her lips, as if trying to puzzle it out.
"The star is for the Faith." I lied. "Eight rays, rather than seven, but that is my own touch. The green dragon is indeed for Vhagar, and the field that is black as the night… well, you have seen Aegon's banner." I smiled.
"Our banner." She corrected me. "I hope you will not make this a habit, sister. The design is fine enough, but I imagine Aegon is not happy at all." I frowned.
"He did not look happy, no." If anything, he looked confused and annoyed. Good. I am not some… some tool of his. Some accessory to his conquest. I touched at my braid.
"What do you wish to do after this is over, little sister?" I asked, stroking gently at the end of my silver braid. "Westeros will be ours, and then what?"
"I have not thought that far ahead, 'Senya. I have no idea what I want to do after, but… perhaps…" She paused for a moment before continuing, "I would love to fly over all the land we rule, for certain. Let the lords and smallfolk see their queen in her full radiance, and the splendor of my Meraxes." She swept her hair over her shoulder, smiling widely. "What about you, sister?"
"I might like that. Perhaps other things as well." I smiled, I thought of a girl with dark hair and purple eyes, before my heart hurt. I would never birth her, after all. Her father was not in this world. And a dark-haired girl would have me exiled, at best. I would like a child.
"A child? Truly? 'Senya, I did not think you were desirous of that!" I blushed intensely, realizing I must have said it out loud. She simply grinned.
I blushed even more. "Oh hush. Before I throw you out of my tent." I couldn't keep from smiling slightly as I said the words. She only laughed at me.
"I should imagine I and Aegon will have three by the day you birth your first, however." A part of me felt cold, as I remembered. His children. I placed a hand on my stomach, and felt nauseous. I can have children, but they'll be his. I had no idea how I'd get away with sleeping with another. I can't. I realized. The idea of being shamed for seeking solace, for trying to find something good in the shitty marriage I was in, was all too real. I tugged at the end of a sleeve, and took a deep breath.
"Are you well, 'Senya?" Rhaenys' warm lilac eyes were all I was focused on.
"It is nothing. I only forgot to eat." I lied, and my heart hurt for doing so.
"You are a terrible liar, 'Senya." She said simply, frowning. "What happened in Duskendale?" She had changed the subject, and I was only too glad to answer. So we spent the next hour speaking, until Aegon entered without so much as a warning. I wanted to strangle him. I glanced around to make sure Dark Sister was near.
His gaze landed on Rhaenys almost immediately, and his face lit up with a wide smile. "I hope I am not interrupting, dear sisters." He stepped over to her, and lifted her from her seat.
"You know you are, Aegon." She laughed, and he kissed her and she kissed him back.
"What are you doing in here, little brother?" The words came out harsh, though not as harsh as I'd meant them, and the look on Aegon's face turned to annoyance and tiredness before he set Rhaenys down.
"Can I not visit my wives at night?" I frowned at him. At everything from his simple tunic, with gold bands on the wrists to his fine boots. Blackfyre at his side. "I had hoped to put it off, for a few minutes longer, but it seems you have forced it." He beckoned me over, I stayed where I was.
He rolled his eyes and smiled, "We will be going to my own tent." Rhaenys rose from her seat. "Not you, my love. Only 'Senya and I." My sister frowned at that, glancing at me.
"I told you not to call me that, I did not give you permission." I balled my hands into fists, standing up. "As well, I am not leaving with you. I am feeling tired." I said, not caring how blatant of a lie it was.
"This is a command, Visenya." I heard my knuckles crack before I let my hands relax, as Rhaenys tugged at Aegon's sleeve. "No, Rhaenys. I only wish to have a talk with her. We haven't spoken much of late." He offered me a hand as he made his way to the entranceway.
I did not bother taking it, and instead wasted several minutes putting on my armor of silver scale as well as my cloak, and only then did I follow after him out of the tent and into the night. I frowned as I noticed we were flanked by a single man, shorter than I and Aegon. But in the light of the lantern he carried I recognized the pendant he was wearing, a butterfly of gold, with intricate veins worked into it, and fine small eyes of jade. "Quenton?" I wondered aloud, my frown gone. He nodded and smiled politely, "Archontissa." He said the word in his Volantene-accented Valyrian, though not so thick as it once was.
As we made our way to Aegon's tent I realized that I had forgotten he was Aegon's man.
How many men are his? I hoped I would have more of my own, by the time this was through.
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"Wife, your impertinence begins to grate." Aegon began after I rejected his offer of wine as we reclined in his tent.. I could not remember what had happened after I had drank the last time. I did not wish to repeat that experience. "I had hoped you would return from Duskendale chastened, not emboldened." His face lacked even the hint of a smile I associated with Aegon.
He casually sipped at his wine, shirtless on his couch, wearing only finely-made dark trousers. Blackfyre was set aside not two feet away from him, in easy reach of his long arms. I had to keep my hand from going to Dark Sister's hilt as his eyes met mine.
"I would have thought you of all men would have appreciated the value of pomp and theater, husband." I had mostly discarded my more 'formal' wear as well. A neatly folded cloak with the armor and boots. The detailed scrollwork on my tunic sleeve caught my attention for a moment. Aegon snorted, his eyes lingering on the circlet I had set aside.
"Certainly, but what you did was something else entirely, dearest wife." After drinking deeply, he looked in his cup and swirled the drink around, "You harm my authority by presenting yourself as… as my equal in standing." I tugged my braid almost reflexively.
"We are equal, brother. We swore oaths before the gods, bound in fire and blood, we are partners, you are my husband and I your wife." The words burned in my throat like poison. False gods and a miserable marriage. I remembered the girl who had been, if not happy to wed him, at least proud to do her duty to her family. Then the awkward fumbling and bloodied sheets.
"Come now, Visenya, you know better. Father is long dead. What do his desires matter?" He smiled, "I doubt he would have approved of you taking up a heraldic device in the style of the Westerosi."
I nodded slightly, "He made disapproving noises about our uncle's adoption of those banners in his own hall." I remembered, if only a little, Visenya had been nine years old at the time, and more interested in dragons than cultural shifts.. "So no, I do not believe he would have approved." I touched at the end of my braid.
Aegon laughed, "On that matter I believe father and I would have agreed." I barely had the time to process what he said, as Aegon's smile had turned to a scowl even as he'd continued talking, "What do you mean to do, sister? Not only have you come back to us parading about your captives and wearing a crown on your head." Not a crown. But I imagined the distinction wasn't enough to matter. "But you do so with a banner, a banner I had no knowledge of, with a device I do not know, and one that I imagine was your own idea. Do you know what you have done?" He took a deep breath, and an even deeper drink from his cup.
"You planned to reveal your own scant days from now, Egg." I replied, forcing a slight smile. A part of me relishing the confusion on Aegon's face at the name.
He sighed, running his hand through his hair. "Our own, sister. Three heads, for the three of us." How stupid does he think I am, that he has to explain that?
"I am aware of the symbolism, brother. I was there when we devised it." I tried to keep the bite out of my tone. Aegon rose from his seat, setting his cup down on a silver tray. The muscle in his arm flexed for a moment before he spoke again, his movements a bit more rigid as he walked toward me, and I stood up as quickly as I could. Part of me wanting to run.
"And you spit on it by doing what you did! We have to be united, to show disunity, to show the Westerosi division is to invite them to view us as weak! We cannot have this! Do you understand?" He shook his finger as if to emphasize every word, he was an inch taller, but as he looked at me, loomed over me, a part of me felt like that inch might as well have been six. "If I do not rule in my own home, then the lords of Westeros will never respect me, even if I make them kneel." There was the crux of it. Legally, I was Aegon's equal as Aerion's heir, but in truth, here even as in Old Valyria, he had more power, and thus was truly in charge. Is Westeros so different? Might it have been different, had I… had Visenya, waited for Balerion to be riderless and claimed him?
For a moment I imagined it, but the image felt wrong to me. I did like Vhagar, she might have been the smallest, but she was my dragon. To imagine riding another felt almost like imagining cheating on a lover. Or of thinking of abandoning a pet. I knew not how much of it was Visenya, but the very idea tore at my insides.
I winced when Aegon touched my hair, breaking me out of my momentary daze. His hand touching my braid as he pulled me close. "No." I shoved off of him with as much force as I could muster.
He sighed, sounding tired "Do you hate me, sister?" More than any other man I've met. I bit my lip. Touching my braid, I wished I could bite his thrice-damned fingers off.
Aegon continued, "You've never loved me. Not as a wife loves her husband, certainly. Not that I like you much as a husband loves his wife either." He rubbed at his chin, "Is it so unpleasant to lie with me? I would have thought it would be one of the few things you did enjoy, after all, Rhaenys has told me I'm…" He seemed to catch himself, and I felt my face heat up.
"You think this is… that this is about…" I did not know what to say. I wanted to cry. I felt laughter coming on. I wanted to lay everything bare, but I could not. I want to live. "No, I… it's… D-do you fancy yourself some… some prince of peace? From how you have spoken about your conquest, to 'put an end to the wars of the sunset land, one land under a single ruler', it certainly seems like you want people to think that. If I had my way we'd never have left Dragonstone." I glared at him, forcing myself to look.
My brother smiled bitterly, "Then why are you still here, sister?" It was like a slap.
"What?" I did not know how to respond.
"You heard me." He said, "Why are you still here? You have Vhagar, and nobody would have stopped you from going back home at any time. Not only have you not gone home, but you have followed my commands, if barely, and done more than necessary." He explained, as if to a slow child. I wanted to hit him.
"So I ask you, why? If all you wish to do is go back and hide at home, why expend so much effort doing as I've commanded? All you need do is ask, and you can leave for Dragonstone. Play four corners with whatever fourth sons you can scrounge up, and manage the island while Rhaenys and I conquer Westeros." His tone was biting.
I did not know the answer to that. You do. I ignored the thought. I did want to help minimize casualties, to make things better if I could. Save Rhaenys. It was a one in a million shot that killed her, but I had to be certain.
"Still, I wonder where your care for the slain even came from. It is unlike you to be bothered by the prospect of bringing fire and blood, you boasted of it months ago. That had you been there, Volantis would have lost more than their fleet." He adjusted his position, but the damnable smile never left his features. His posture had become more relaxed, however.
She was a harder woman than I. I cannot be her, not truly. "Mercy is a virtue in the eyes of G-d, brother." He laughed. I almost could not remember the last time I had seen him do so as hard as he was.
I felt my face burning with indignation. "What is so damned funny?" I knew the real Visenya would never have said what I did. But I had not imagined he would mock me for it. I moved my hand away from Dark Sister's hilt and breathed in and out.
"First, that banner of yours and now you speak of the virtues of G-d? Sister, you sound more Westerosi than even our cousins. It is a grand jape." His words had me touching at my braid. He was lucky I did not have a cup in my hands.
"The Faith is more trouble to fight against than they are worth, you know that. It is less effort to try and act as they would approve of, than to fight a rebellion led by them." They had asked Maegor and the early Targaryens for very little, after all. Part of me still chafed at the idea that they asked for anything at all. That the Faith thought it had any right to ask dragons to abandon the ways of their ancestors. Pride has its place, but I'm not you. "They ask their Mother above for mercy, why should not the Mother of the Realm give it to them?"
Aegon smiled wryly, "Mother of the Realm? Mayhap after we've finished, the gods might grant you a child." I felt my stomach lurch, the ghost of his hands on me again.
"Please, not tonight." I pleaded, but the words came out so softly I wondered if he would even hear.
My brother snorted, "It would not do to have you unable to lead men before our war is over." He shook his head, "Or worse, you dying in childbed." My insides felt like they were turning over. He could kill me like… like that. I felt bile rise in my throat. I was aware that more people died in childbirth than back home. But the thought of dying because of him… I hate you. Not for the first time, I wanted to strangle him. What then? What would you do then? What if it failed? Even if it succeeded, Rhaenys would likely kill me. The thought of her being angry at me hurt.
"Is this all, Aegon? I should like to prepare for your coronation." I said as I sat down and put my cloak back on.
"You are a terrible liar, Visenya." He sounded amused, "I had thought of lying with you tonight, but I find my desire for that rather diminished as of now." His desire for it? HIS? I breathed in deeply, and kept myself from pressing my knees together as I finished collecting my things. "You may leave."
"I do not require your permission to leave your tent, Aegon." I snapped back.
"All it would take is a few words from me and the guardsmen would keep you grounded, and stranded." I could hear the sneer. "Is that what you wish, sister? I can arrange for it."
Something burned in me at that but I kept myself from snapping at him. If only just. "Of course not, Your Grace." I sighed, and then he sighed as well. Or at least it sounded like it. I felt far more worn out than I had any reason to, and so I made sure I had gathered everything.
"Visenya, wait." I did not turn back to look at him, as I stood just in front of the tent's entrance, my hand on the thick material.
"I am glad that you have stopped fighting Rhaenys. That you obeyed me at least in that one thing." He sounded as tired as I felt.
"It was never about her, Aegon." I lied. It was only a small lie. Visenya would have disagreed with it being small.
"Is that so?" He sounded self-satisfied. I could almost see the smile.
I didn't say another word as I left, the night air feeling much cooler than that of the tent. Part of me felt so much more at home in the brief moment between the feeling of the night, the shine of the moon, and then the reality that there were some few men on guard even now. Just a few words, and he could have me confined. It wasn't about Aegon, and it was. It wasn't about Rhaenys, and yet it was. It wasn't about my old life, and yet it fucking was.
I did not bother wiping the few tears that formed as I made my way back to my own tent. Who cares that she wouldn't have shed tears like this? I don't have to be her. I reminded myself again, and again.
They never felt reassuring.
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He did this on purpose. I kept the scowl from showing as we reached near to my own hill, having passed through a village.
It was a staged parade through the hills and camps, my brother had arranged for the ways to be clear and wide enough for our purposes. The crown. I could just throw it somewhere. It was a petty idea. Though tempting, for Aegon had forbidden I wear my circlet here.
"Come now, steadfast liegemen, your lord bids you follow behind to the highest hill." This Aegon's captain, his sworn companion Quenton Qoherys, commanded of the smallfolk who were in attendance and had followed before. It galled that he had assembled a greater host by far, my own makeshift parade looked petty by comparison.
So it went for the next few places we passed through, and Aegon gave small gifts of silver to the smallfolk and asked them to follow. A smile ever present. On our procession went through green grasses, and near the ruins of once-sturdy stone forts long abandoned or cannibalized for village septs.
We rode with our brother at the head of the procession on white horses to meet the lords who owed us fealty, our honor guard was three horsemen abreast and one hundred men deep, one hundred horsemen for each of us, with Aegon leading one-hundred fifty, and well did they live up to the nickname bestowed upon them by the enemies of the Daughters of Valyria. Iron horsemen, they were clad and masked in gleaming steel, and ahead of the manifold other standards and banners that preceded us we were surrounded by cloth dragons woven out of scarlet thread bound to the tips of spears and their tails catching and winding in the breeze, they were cunningly wrought such that the wind in their widened mouths would produce an almost whispery hissing noise like some serpent.
There along either side of the cavalrymen were the finest of our footmen with their shields and crested helms catching the rays of the sun and glittering, these men were clad in mail shining like fishes' scales and in the same manner as the iron horsemen they too were masked that they might seem more like moving automata rather than men marching in time.
At the absolute head, even slightly ahead of Rhaenys and I, was Aegon himself. His saddle as elaborate as our own, but studded with even more jewels and he seemed to loom even more than his height should have allowed.
There was a stagnancy in the air from weeks spent here in army camps, as we made our way through to the cleared out camp of Aegon's, tents pulled down that the Aegonfort as it was being called, was easily seen and was a center of attention. That hovel of wood and earth is no fit place for a king. It was hastily made, ugly if impressive at first sight, but ultimately was a vanity. I wanted to laugh.
As our procession neared the assembled lords, and the men of ours who served as their guards in this time, a nervous looking young man with brown hair, barely more than fifteen, called out "To Aegon Targaryen, great king, victor over the lords of the Blackwater, prince of peace, bringer of order, greatest of the dragonlords, we welcome you warmly and do your will and lay ourselves upon your grace and generosity. Our swords are yours."
He said, and the lords and knights laid down their swords as had been agreed and Aegon raised a single hand with his palm facing outward. His head held high, my brother spoke in his clear and commanding voice, every inch the king. "I, Aegon Targaryen, am pleased to receive the swords of you lords and knights who have sworn to serve me faithfully, who have seen the folly of standing against my mission to bring peace to these lands and put an end to the wars of Westeros. I will make your land as my own, a home where I and my heirs shall rule until the end of time. So too are you, lords who have knelt before me and given homage, safe in the knowledge that your families will live as they have for as long as you serve myself and my heirs with steadfast courage and faithfulness. Rise, my lords and be confirmed in your rights and privileges of old." He said the words, and they rose and praises were spoken and accepted.
He raised a gloved hand, and from immediately behind Aegon, on a horse dark as the rider's own hair, came Orys leading five cavalrymen. With little effort the great banner was unfurled, and the breeze of the day made the black silken banner flutter, and the red dragon breathing red flame upon a field of black was shown to the Westerosi for the first time. Some looked nervous, some even smiled, and yet others were astonished at the sight.
"Behold, friends, I come to rule, not to destroy that which has come before." He smirked, and climbed down from his horse, and we did the same. As had been agreed upon, a servant brought forth a wrapped object, Aegon's crown, I remembered. The last of our family's diadems from old Valyria. When I saw the crown, with its rippled smoky steel, and the rubies set in it, I remembered my father. I did not care to correct on whose father it was. With hands I barely kept from shaking I placed the circlet upon Aegon's head, as just this once he had knelt to me. If only to accept this crown, for the ceremony. I managed to keep myself from scowling.
The rubies on the circlet blazed like fire for a brief moment, when the mid-day sun hit them.
"Praise to Aegon, King of the Sunset, King of All Westeros, Shield of His People, The Prince of Peace, Master of Dragons!" Rhaenys hailed him, with as fine and clear a voice as any I had ever heard Aegon use. The roars of cheers from behind us, from Orys and the Narrow Sea Lords, from Quenton, and even from the Blackwater lords and knights. But greater even than they were the almost deafening roar from the smallfolk which had been assembled, the hundreds of men and women and children. I wanted to shove my fingers in my ears, I wanted to run and hide, the noise hurt. So I was overjoyed when the noise had died down, and Aegon had had his time to bask in the praise and cheers.
Daemon Velaryon, Crispian Celtigar, and the other lords of the Narrow Sea were summoned to stand before the great banner and Aegon himself. Crispian bore his scarlet cloak trimmed with silver, and on the silver trim were red crabs. His sons dressed similarly, and I smiled at Vaeron as he and his brothers stood before us.
"Kasereon Celtigar, to you I give charge of the finances of my kingdom, that you may shrewdly manage my wealth and make it grow. Bear this burden well, my Saekellon." Celtigar thanked him, and my brother waved him off.
"Uncle, I name you Navarch, and give you charge of the royal fleet. As well, you are granted the rights to the tariffs of Duskendale." Daemon did not even bow his head, but accepted the words with little more than thanks.
At last, Aegon brought Orys forth, grabbing him by the shoulder. "To you, my most valuable, most loyal friend and supporter. To lose you would be like to losing my right hand, from this day forth you will speak with my voice in matters where I have charged you."
"We leave to unite Westeros, my subjects, my children. But I promise that I shall return, and when I have the time of the kings shall be at an end, and in their place will be one king, and one everlasting peace!" The words he spoke were simple, but they almost resonated with me, and I found myself cheering with the rest, so caught up in the moment.
I blinked at the codex, trying to read in the dim light. Though I had grown used to lamplight, I still missed lightbulbs. It was an odd thought. I shook my head and looked down, this time focusing and clearing out distractions. My finger on the page to help me focus, it was something I had never done, but that Visenya did out of habit to keep track if she ever had to read something lengthy.
The Andal races place great value on freedom. They are bold and undaunted in battle. Daring and imperious as they are, they consider any timidity and even a short retreat as a disgrace. They calmly despise death as they fight violently in hand-to-hand combat either on horseback or on foot... Whether on foot or on horseback, they draw up for battle, not in any fixed measure and formation, or in regiments or divisions, but according to houses, their ties with one another, and common interest… And so on, went the words of Maerys, a polemarch.. Campaign commander, during the time of the Freehold. Half of the manual by the woman who defeated the Andal raids on Myrish settlements was utterly racist crap, mixed in with genuinely good advice about dealing with various enemies the Daughters of Valyria had encountered over the centuries, and a lot of common sense that apparently officers needed to be reminded of. Who'd have fucking thought that keeping your camps organized, clean, and not eating near where you shit would be things that a notable general had to tell the men reading this.
I still enjoyed it for the glimpse it gave into the thoughts of a woman dead for over a thousand years. I could almost forget I was sitting in a tent while reading. As the words of a woman giving an anecdote about the Great Grass Sea or the Rhoyne would fill my mind and sweep me away. I missed reading for pleasure like this. I hadn't known how much until now.
A gentle jingling noise was all it took to cause the images of stone forts built on hilly lands, of the thought of men in scale and their horses armored crashing into the enemy line and sending them scattering, to melt away. Almost without thinking I turned to see where the noise was coming from, my hand reaching for my sword as my heart pounded.
"Rhaenys?" It was her, certainly. Dressed as she had been, though with the addition of a necklace I did not recognize, and a small bell in her hand. One fit more for a cat's collar than anything else. Her hair was hanging loosely this time.
"We have not spoken in some time, 'Senya." She said simply, her silver hair taking in the candlelight as she sat down with a grace I found myself envying. I rolled my eyes and smiled.
"It is quite hard to speak with you from the ships, and so far away as well." I laughed softly, "What is with the bell?" I pointed at it. "Am I a servant, that you need to summon me to do some task?" I smirked.
She returned the smile, "No, but when last I tried to gain your attention without first giving warning you nearly broke my arm." I felt my cheeks burn a bit, she was exaggerating, but I was not particularly gentle when disturbed. "I had this bell made that I might avoid that sort of unpleasantness."
I snorted. "So, how have the past ten days treated you, little sister?" I tilted my head, my braid swinging gently and touching my elbow. She did not take her eyes off me, something that had unsettled me at first, but I had since resigned myself to maintaining eye contact when speaking. It was what Visenya did, after all.
"I managed what men were left behind after you left with our uncle and Aegon with Orys. Have you seen the Lords' camp? That is what the soldiers are calling my camp now." She idly toyed with a bit of her hair, one of her bangs that were framing her face. I frowned.
"Is that where Stokeworth and the other Westerosi are?" She nodded.
"Under close guard, even more than the ones that Aegon defeated in battle and managed to survive. Mooton's nephew passed just this morning. He was not strong enough to survive the burns he gained." I felt a lot more tired just hearing that. "It is a shame, apparently he was rather handsome before he rode against us."
I tried to shove the discomfort away, and gave as flat a response as I could. "Handsome? Are you not a married woman, sister?" She laughed in reply. I was certain that if she could, she would have shoved me.
"'Senya, I can appreciate a man's looks without wishing to bed him. He would never have been worthy of me. No man who is bound to the earth can be." I believed it. She only grudgingly flew Aegon around with her on Meraxes before he had tamed Balerion. Better than the few times he had needed my aid in flying to some place or another. Only a week after our wedding, we'd visited the Citadel.
"Here I thought you only bedded Aegon for his looks." I laughed, and at the look of frustration on Rhaenys' face that she covered fairly quickly, I felt a pang of guilt. "I apologize, Rhaenys. I should not have spoken so."
"I would have thought you understood." She sighed, "You loved a man, surely you know what I feel." She really does. I felt even worse. I opened my mouth, but she raised a hand. "No. We will not, not now. I came here to speak with my sister, not to argue with you over our husband." I just wanted to make this right, and I didn't know how.
So we just sat there, until she broke the silence.
"Your… device. What is it? I presume the green dragon is for Vhagar, but the star?" She asked, looking thoughtful and curious, "The star…" She pursed her lips, as if trying to puzzle it out.
"The star is for the Faith." I lied. "Eight rays, rather than seven, but that is my own touch. The green dragon is indeed for Vhagar, and the field that is black as the night… well, you have seen Aegon's banner." I smiled.
"Our banner." She corrected me. "I hope you will not make this a habit, sister. The design is fine enough, but I imagine Aegon is not happy at all." I frowned.
"He did not look happy, no." If anything, he looked confused and annoyed. Good. I am not some… some tool of his. Some accessory to his conquest. I touched at my braid.
"What do you wish to do after this is over, little sister?" I asked, stroking gently at the end of my silver braid. "Westeros will be ours, and then what?"
"I have not thought that far ahead, 'Senya. I have no idea what I want to do after, but… perhaps…" She paused for a moment before continuing, "I would love to fly over all the land we rule, for certain. Let the lords and smallfolk see their queen in her full radiance, and the splendor of my Meraxes." She swept her hair over her shoulder, smiling widely. "What about you, sister?"
"I might like that. Perhaps other things as well." I smiled, I thought of a girl with dark hair and purple eyes, before my heart hurt. I would never birth her, after all. Her father was not in this world. And a dark-haired girl would have me exiled, at best. I would like a child.
"A child? Truly? 'Senya, I did not think you were desirous of that!" I blushed intensely, realizing I must have said it out loud. She simply grinned.
I blushed even more. "Oh hush. Before I throw you out of my tent." I couldn't keep from smiling slightly as I said the words. She only laughed at me.
"I should imagine I and Aegon will have three by the day you birth your first, however." A part of me felt cold, as I remembered. His children. I placed a hand on my stomach, and felt nauseous. I can have children, but they'll be his. I had no idea how I'd get away with sleeping with another. I can't. I realized. The idea of being shamed for seeking solace, for trying to find something good in the shitty marriage I was in, was all too real. I tugged at the end of a sleeve, and took a deep breath.
"Are you well, 'Senya?" Rhaenys' warm lilac eyes were all I was focused on.
"It is nothing. I only forgot to eat." I lied, and my heart hurt for doing so.
"You are a terrible liar, 'Senya." She said simply, frowning. "What happened in Duskendale?" She had changed the subject, and I was only too glad to answer. So we spent the next hour speaking, until Aegon entered without so much as a warning. I wanted to strangle him. I glanced around to make sure Dark Sister was near.
His gaze landed on Rhaenys almost immediately, and his face lit up with a wide smile. "I hope I am not interrupting, dear sisters." He stepped over to her, and lifted her from her seat.
"You know you are, Aegon." She laughed, and he kissed her and she kissed him back.
"What are you doing in here, little brother?" The words came out harsh, though not as harsh as I'd meant them, and the look on Aegon's face turned to annoyance and tiredness before he set Rhaenys down.
"Can I not visit my wives at night?" I frowned at him. At everything from his simple tunic, with gold bands on the wrists to his fine boots. Blackfyre at his side. "I had hoped to put it off, for a few minutes longer, but it seems you have forced it." He beckoned me over, I stayed where I was.
He rolled his eyes and smiled, "We will be going to my own tent." Rhaenys rose from her seat. "Not you, my love. Only 'Senya and I." My sister frowned at that, glancing at me.
"I told you not to call me that, I did not give you permission." I balled my hands into fists, standing up. "As well, I am not leaving with you. I am feeling tired." I said, not caring how blatant of a lie it was.
"This is a command, Visenya." I heard my knuckles crack before I let my hands relax, as Rhaenys tugged at Aegon's sleeve. "No, Rhaenys. I only wish to have a talk with her. We haven't spoken much of late." He offered me a hand as he made his way to the entranceway.
I did not bother taking it, and instead wasted several minutes putting on my armor of silver scale as well as my cloak, and only then did I follow after him out of the tent and into the night. I frowned as I noticed we were flanked by a single man, shorter than I and Aegon. But in the light of the lantern he carried I recognized the pendant he was wearing, a butterfly of gold, with intricate veins worked into it, and fine small eyes of jade. "Quenton?" I wondered aloud, my frown gone. He nodded and smiled politely, "Archontissa." He said the word in his Volantene-accented Valyrian, though not so thick as it once was.
As we made our way to Aegon's tent I realized that I had forgotten he was Aegon's man.
How many men are his? I hoped I would have more of my own, by the time this was through.
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"Wife, your impertinence begins to grate." Aegon began after I rejected his offer of wine as we reclined in his tent.. I could not remember what had happened after I had drank the last time. I did not wish to repeat that experience. "I had hoped you would return from Duskendale chastened, not emboldened." His face lacked even the hint of a smile I associated with Aegon.
He casually sipped at his wine, shirtless on his couch, wearing only finely-made dark trousers. Blackfyre was set aside not two feet away from him, in easy reach of his long arms. I had to keep my hand from going to Dark Sister's hilt as his eyes met mine.
"I would have thought you of all men would have appreciated the value of pomp and theater, husband." I had mostly discarded my more 'formal' wear as well. A neatly folded cloak with the armor and boots. The detailed scrollwork on my tunic sleeve caught my attention for a moment. Aegon snorted, his eyes lingering on the circlet I had set aside.
"Certainly, but what you did was something else entirely, dearest wife." After drinking deeply, he looked in his cup and swirled the drink around, "You harm my authority by presenting yourself as… as my equal in standing." I tugged my braid almost reflexively.
"We are equal, brother. We swore oaths before the gods, bound in fire and blood, we are partners, you are my husband and I your wife." The words burned in my throat like poison. False gods and a miserable marriage. I remembered the girl who had been, if not happy to wed him, at least proud to do her duty to her family. Then the awkward fumbling and bloodied sheets.
"Come now, Visenya, you know better. Father is long dead. What do his desires matter?" He smiled, "I doubt he would have approved of you taking up a heraldic device in the style of the Westerosi."
I nodded slightly, "He made disapproving noises about our uncle's adoption of those banners in his own hall." I remembered, if only a little, Visenya had been nine years old at the time, and more interested in dragons than cultural shifts.. "So no, I do not believe he would have approved." I touched at the end of my braid.
Aegon laughed, "On that matter I believe father and I would have agreed." I barely had the time to process what he said, as Aegon's smile had turned to a scowl even as he'd continued talking, "What do you mean to do, sister? Not only have you come back to us parading about your captives and wearing a crown on your head." Not a crown. But I imagined the distinction wasn't enough to matter. "But you do so with a banner, a banner I had no knowledge of, with a device I do not know, and one that I imagine was your own idea. Do you know what you have done?" He took a deep breath, and an even deeper drink from his cup.
"You planned to reveal your own scant days from now, Egg." I replied, forcing a slight smile. A part of me relishing the confusion on Aegon's face at the name.
He sighed, running his hand through his hair. "Our own, sister. Three heads, for the three of us." How stupid does he think I am, that he has to explain that?
"I am aware of the symbolism, brother. I was there when we devised it." I tried to keep the bite out of my tone. Aegon rose from his seat, setting his cup down on a silver tray. The muscle in his arm flexed for a moment before he spoke again, his movements a bit more rigid as he walked toward me, and I stood up as quickly as I could. Part of me wanting to run.
"And you spit on it by doing what you did! We have to be united, to show disunity, to show the Westerosi division is to invite them to view us as weak! We cannot have this! Do you understand?" He shook his finger as if to emphasize every word, he was an inch taller, but as he looked at me, loomed over me, a part of me felt like that inch might as well have been six. "If I do not rule in my own home, then the lords of Westeros will never respect me, even if I make them kneel." There was the crux of it. Legally, I was Aegon's equal as Aerion's heir, but in truth, here even as in Old Valyria, he had more power, and thus was truly in charge. Is Westeros so different? Might it have been different, had I… had Visenya, waited for Balerion to be riderless and claimed him?
For a moment I imagined it, but the image felt wrong to me. I did like Vhagar, she might have been the smallest, but she was my dragon. To imagine riding another felt almost like imagining cheating on a lover. Or of thinking of abandoning a pet. I knew not how much of it was Visenya, but the very idea tore at my insides.
I winced when Aegon touched my hair, breaking me out of my momentary daze. His hand touching my braid as he pulled me close. "No." I shoved off of him with as much force as I could muster.
He sighed, sounding tired "Do you hate me, sister?" More than any other man I've met. I bit my lip. Touching my braid, I wished I could bite his thrice-damned fingers off.
Aegon continued, "You've never loved me. Not as a wife loves her husband, certainly. Not that I like you much as a husband loves his wife either." He rubbed at his chin, "Is it so unpleasant to lie with me? I would have thought it would be one of the few things you did enjoy, after all, Rhaenys has told me I'm…" He seemed to catch himself, and I felt my face heat up.
"You think this is… that this is about…" I did not know what to say. I wanted to cry. I felt laughter coming on. I wanted to lay everything bare, but I could not. I want to live. "No, I… it's… D-do you fancy yourself some… some prince of peace? From how you have spoken about your conquest, to 'put an end to the wars of the sunset land, one land under a single ruler', it certainly seems like you want people to think that. If I had my way we'd never have left Dragonstone." I glared at him, forcing myself to look.
My brother smiled bitterly, "Then why are you still here, sister?" It was like a slap.
"What?" I did not know how to respond.
"You heard me." He said, "Why are you still here? You have Vhagar, and nobody would have stopped you from going back home at any time. Not only have you not gone home, but you have followed my commands, if barely, and done more than necessary." He explained, as if to a slow child. I wanted to hit him.
"So I ask you, why? If all you wish to do is go back and hide at home, why expend so much effort doing as I've commanded? All you need do is ask, and you can leave for Dragonstone. Play four corners with whatever fourth sons you can scrounge up, and manage the island while Rhaenys and I conquer Westeros." His tone was biting.
I did not know the answer to that. You do. I ignored the thought. I did want to help minimize casualties, to make things better if I could. Save Rhaenys. It was a one in a million shot that killed her, but I had to be certain.
"Still, I wonder where your care for the slain even came from. It is unlike you to be bothered by the prospect of bringing fire and blood, you boasted of it months ago. That had you been there, Volantis would have lost more than their fleet." He adjusted his position, but the damnable smile never left his features. His posture had become more relaxed, however.
She was a harder woman than I. I cannot be her, not truly. "Mercy is a virtue in the eyes of G-d, brother." He laughed. I almost could not remember the last time I had seen him do so as hard as he was.
I felt my face burning with indignation. "What is so damned funny?" I knew the real Visenya would never have said what I did. But I had not imagined he would mock me for it. I moved my hand away from Dark Sister's hilt and breathed in and out.
"First, that banner of yours and now you speak of the virtues of G-d? Sister, you sound more Westerosi than even our cousins. It is a grand jape." His words had me touching at my braid. He was lucky I did not have a cup in my hands.
"The Faith is more trouble to fight against than they are worth, you know that. It is less effort to try and act as they would approve of, than to fight a rebellion led by them." They had asked Maegor and the early Targaryens for very little, after all. Part of me still chafed at the idea that they asked for anything at all. That the Faith thought it had any right to ask dragons to abandon the ways of their ancestors. Pride has its place, but I'm not you. "They ask their Mother above for mercy, why should not the Mother of the Realm give it to them?"
Aegon smiled wryly, "Mother of the Realm? Mayhap after we've finished, the gods might grant you a child." I felt my stomach lurch, the ghost of his hands on me again.
"Please, not tonight." I pleaded, but the words came out so softly I wondered if he would even hear.
My brother snorted, "It would not do to have you unable to lead men before our war is over." He shook his head, "Or worse, you dying in childbed." My insides felt like they were turning over. He could kill me like… like that. I felt bile rise in my throat. I was aware that more people died in childbirth than back home. But the thought of dying because of him… I hate you. Not for the first time, I wanted to strangle him. What then? What would you do then? What if it failed? Even if it succeeded, Rhaenys would likely kill me. The thought of her being angry at me hurt.
"Is this all, Aegon? I should like to prepare for your coronation." I said as I sat down and put my cloak back on.
"You are a terrible liar, Visenya." He sounded amused, "I had thought of lying with you tonight, but I find my desire for that rather diminished as of now." His desire for it? HIS? I breathed in deeply, and kept myself from pressing my knees together as I finished collecting my things. "You may leave."
"I do not require your permission to leave your tent, Aegon." I snapped back.
"All it would take is a few words from me and the guardsmen would keep you grounded, and stranded." I could hear the sneer. "Is that what you wish, sister? I can arrange for it."
Something burned in me at that but I kept myself from snapping at him. If only just. "Of course not, Your Grace." I sighed, and then he sighed as well. Or at least it sounded like it. I felt far more worn out than I had any reason to, and so I made sure I had gathered everything.
"Visenya, wait." I did not turn back to look at him, as I stood just in front of the tent's entrance, my hand on the thick material.
"I am glad that you have stopped fighting Rhaenys. That you obeyed me at least in that one thing." He sounded as tired as I felt.
"It was never about her, Aegon." I lied. It was only a small lie. Visenya would have disagreed with it being small.
"Is that so?" He sounded self-satisfied. I could almost see the smile.
I didn't say another word as I left, the night air feeling much cooler than that of the tent. Part of me felt so much more at home in the brief moment between the feeling of the night, the shine of the moon, and then the reality that there were some few men on guard even now. Just a few words, and he could have me confined. It wasn't about Aegon, and it was. It wasn't about Rhaenys, and yet it was. It wasn't about my old life, and yet it fucking was.
I did not bother wiping the few tears that formed as I made my way back to my own tent. Who cares that she wouldn't have shed tears like this? I don't have to be her. I reminded myself again, and again.
They never felt reassuring.
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He did this on purpose. I kept the scowl from showing as we reached near to my own hill, having passed through a village.
It was a staged parade through the hills and camps, my brother had arranged for the ways to be clear and wide enough for our purposes. The crown. I could just throw it somewhere. It was a petty idea. Though tempting, for Aegon had forbidden I wear my circlet here.
"Come now, steadfast liegemen, your lord bids you follow behind to the highest hill." This Aegon's captain, his sworn companion Quenton Qoherys, commanded of the smallfolk who were in attendance and had followed before. It galled that he had assembled a greater host by far, my own makeshift parade looked petty by comparison.
So it went for the next few places we passed through, and Aegon gave small gifts of silver to the smallfolk and asked them to follow. A smile ever present. On our procession went through green grasses, and near the ruins of once-sturdy stone forts long abandoned or cannibalized for village septs.
We rode with our brother at the head of the procession on white horses to meet the lords who owed us fealty, our honor guard was three horsemen abreast and one hundred men deep, one hundred horsemen for each of us, with Aegon leading one-hundred fifty, and well did they live up to the nickname bestowed upon them by the enemies of the Daughters of Valyria. Iron horsemen, they were clad and masked in gleaming steel, and ahead of the manifold other standards and banners that preceded us we were surrounded by cloth dragons woven out of scarlet thread bound to the tips of spears and their tails catching and winding in the breeze, they were cunningly wrought such that the wind in their widened mouths would produce an almost whispery hissing noise like some serpent.
There along either side of the cavalrymen were the finest of our footmen with their shields and crested helms catching the rays of the sun and glittering, these men were clad in mail shining like fishes' scales and in the same manner as the iron horsemen they too were masked that they might seem more like moving automata rather than men marching in time.
At the absolute head, even slightly ahead of Rhaenys and I, was Aegon himself. His saddle as elaborate as our own, but studded with even more jewels and he seemed to loom even more than his height should have allowed.
There was a stagnancy in the air from weeks spent here in army camps, as we made our way through to the cleared out camp of Aegon's, tents pulled down that the Aegonfort as it was being called, was easily seen and was a center of attention. That hovel of wood and earth is no fit place for a king. It was hastily made, ugly if impressive at first sight, but ultimately was a vanity. I wanted to laugh.
As our procession neared the assembled lords, and the men of ours who served as their guards in this time, a nervous looking young man with brown hair, barely more than fifteen, called out "To Aegon Targaryen, great king, victor over the lords of the Blackwater, prince of peace, bringer of order, greatest of the dragonlords, we welcome you warmly and do your will and lay ourselves upon your grace and generosity. Our swords are yours."
He said, and the lords and knights laid down their swords as had been agreed and Aegon raised a single hand with his palm facing outward. His head held high, my brother spoke in his clear and commanding voice, every inch the king. "I, Aegon Targaryen, am pleased to receive the swords of you lords and knights who have sworn to serve me faithfully, who have seen the folly of standing against my mission to bring peace to these lands and put an end to the wars of Westeros. I will make your land as my own, a home where I and my heirs shall rule until the end of time. So too are you, lords who have knelt before me and given homage, safe in the knowledge that your families will live as they have for as long as you serve myself and my heirs with steadfast courage and faithfulness. Rise, my lords and be confirmed in your rights and privileges of old." He said the words, and they rose and praises were spoken and accepted.
He raised a gloved hand, and from immediately behind Aegon, on a horse dark as the rider's own hair, came Orys leading five cavalrymen. With little effort the great banner was unfurled, and the breeze of the day made the black silken banner flutter, and the red dragon breathing red flame upon a field of black was shown to the Westerosi for the first time. Some looked nervous, some even smiled, and yet others were astonished at the sight.
"Behold, friends, I come to rule, not to destroy that which has come before." He smirked, and climbed down from his horse, and we did the same. As had been agreed upon, a servant brought forth a wrapped object, Aegon's crown, I remembered. The last of our family's diadems from old Valyria. When I saw the crown, with its rippled smoky steel, and the rubies set in it, I remembered my father. I did not care to correct on whose father it was. With hands I barely kept from shaking I placed the circlet upon Aegon's head, as just this once he had knelt to me. If only to accept this crown, for the ceremony. I managed to keep myself from scowling.
The rubies on the circlet blazed like fire for a brief moment, when the mid-day sun hit them.
"Praise to Aegon, King of the Sunset, King of All Westeros, Shield of His People, The Prince of Peace, Master of Dragons!" Rhaenys hailed him, with as fine and clear a voice as any I had ever heard Aegon use. The roars of cheers from behind us, from Orys and the Narrow Sea Lords, from Quenton, and even from the Blackwater lords and knights. But greater even than they were the almost deafening roar from the smallfolk which had been assembled, the hundreds of men and women and children. I wanted to shove my fingers in my ears, I wanted to run and hide, the noise hurt. So I was overjoyed when the noise had died down, and Aegon had had his time to bask in the praise and cheers.
Daemon Velaryon, Crispian Celtigar, and the other lords of the Narrow Sea were summoned to stand before the great banner and Aegon himself. Crispian bore his scarlet cloak trimmed with silver, and on the silver trim were red crabs. His sons dressed similarly, and I smiled at Vaeron as he and his brothers stood before us.
"Kasereon Celtigar, to you I give charge of the finances of my kingdom, that you may shrewdly manage my wealth and make it grow. Bear this burden well, my Saekellon." Celtigar thanked him, and my brother waved him off.
"Uncle, I name you Navarch, and give you charge of the royal fleet. As well, you are granted the rights to the tariffs of Duskendale." Daemon did not even bow his head, but accepted the words with little more than thanks.
At last, Aegon brought Orys forth, grabbing him by the shoulder. "To you, my most valuable, most loyal friend and supporter. To lose you would be like to losing my right hand, from this day forth you will speak with my voice in matters where I have charged you."
"We leave to unite Westeros, my subjects, my children. But I promise that I shall return, and when I have the time of the kings shall be at an end, and in their place will be one king, and one everlasting peace!" The words he spoke were simple, but they almost resonated with me, and I found myself cheering with the rest, so caught up in the moment.
The Targ Sibs
Here's some artwork I commissioned.
Chapter Eleven: Brother and Sister
I stood on top of my hill just watching the men there picking up their tents and things and readying themselves in good order to leave for the ships. Aegon had given me command of one-thousand men out of the entire host in addition to the men on the ships. Four-thousand men to conquer the Vale. Four-thousand. And over half of them were mariners. I squinted when the glare of the sun got in my eye for a moment, out of the cover of the clouds.
Aegon had given Rhaenys and Orys command of eleven-thousand. Two-thousand from the Narrow Sea, and the rest from the Blackwater coast. I tapped my chin, and three-thousand mercenaries, I corrected myself. Aegon had gained the services of the Sons of the Trident and the Company of the Wing. Meanwhile, Aegon would take five-hundred men and march through the Riverlands against Black Harren. With luck, he hoped to have the Riverlords side with him immediately.
Rhaenys and Orys had Rhaenys' Meraxes, and eleven-thousand men. Aegon gave me four-thousand, and expected me to take the Vale. It grated. Is he setting me up for failure on purpose? I could not remember how many men he'd sent with Visenya originally. Vhagar is smallest, and yet I am meant to take the Vale with her and not even a fifth of the men the Vale can muster.
Seeing my various things being carried off, I felt a pang of sadness. I had grown used to the camps, as stagnant as they had been becoming. Yet again I was being taken away from what was familiar, and forced into other places. I was glad I had bathed after morning practice, with the servants as busy as they were and the camps in the state they were in, I knew not if I'd have gotten one if I'd waited.
I looked down at a gloved hand. When had I grown accustomed to wearing armor? It feels almost a second skin. Visenya had been used to it, and again I wondered how much of her was around. How much of her I was. Part of me enjoyed the dress up, I looked almost heroic. A warrior-queen in silvered scale and a purple cloak trimmed with gold. It was still hard to admit sometimes. Another part felt it was simply part and parcel of being at war, that she had trained for it and rulership her whole life.
She is me, I suppose. It was a fact I hated. But there was little I could do but accept it. Who I was, was… simply myself. I did not know where she stopped and I began. I remembered her life after all, I knew her feelings, I felt her feelings. But who she had been was not going to keep me from being who I was now, and who I wanted to become. And who is that?
"You are brooding, sister." I jolted to attention at the smooth voice of my youngest brother. Was Orys' mother the only one? How long was he here? I needed to stop losing focus like this. I turned my gaze to Orys, who stood to my right. Dressed in black boots, well made and fit for a lord. Linen trousers colored scarlet and a white tunic with silver scrollwork at the cuffs and hem, and designs like dragons and flame, geometric patterns on the trim of his red cloak trimmed with yet more silver thread, all of it making him look almost an imitation of Aegon. The sincerest form of flattery. I snorted.
"Is that so easy to notice?" I laughed, feeling my lips curl upward as I looked at his face. It did not hurt so much anymore, though I still found faces in general unpleasant to gaze at. Orys looked much like Aegon, but even rougher, and his dark hair and dark purple eyes only served to obscure that. But the smile on his face did not come so easy to him, it never had, from what I remembered.
"You are not difficult to read, my Queen." He said the last word with a smile of his own, almost tasting the word. "If I have overstepped my bounds, you have my apologies." He bowed his head, almost in reflex, as if he expected to have his head chewed off.
I shook my head, "Speak freely, small brother. I find I prefer that more of late. Besides, you are soon to leave for Argilac's kingdom, and I know not when we will see each other again." I began walking down the hill and out the camp, as Orys followed. I could not stand being in place as we spoke. I needed the movement. "I envy you, a war fighting alongside Rhaenys." I had missed her when I was gone, and her presence was almost addictive now. She made me happy, and I needed that feeling, the feeling I'd missed since I was taken from home.
"Fighting alongside Rhaenys? More like she will burn the Storm Lords while I command the camps, and then I will have Argella's hand as Aegon promised. I will rule Argilac's castle, and his land and be above all of Aegon's other lords." He repeated the words as if to himself. There was a hunger in his eyes I recognized from men like Daemon, the flicker of interest, of desire when they spoke of something they craved.
"You want it." I said the words, it was not some grand realization, but a blunt and almost stupid statement on my part.
"Like a starving man wants meat, sister. I do not wish to live solely off the scraps from Aegon's table, I love him and he is my brother, but I want something to leave to my children. Gods, Visenya, children! I will wed the daughter of a king, what would father say to that?" He smiled broadly, there was an excitement that was almost childlike in itself. "Mayhap something of the treasure Argilac gained in the east will still be in his coffers. Can you imagine it, sister? Me, almost a king, our brother the greatest king these lands have ever known. We will be rich and have power beyond that which Gaemon himself ever dreamed of."
His own excitement was infectious, I found myself smiling with him, the glare of the sun reflecting off his cloak clasp into my eye was the only thing that marred it for even a moment. "I would not mind, I have plans for this place, little brother." I made a sweeping motion with both arms, indicating the hills and the bay, "I want things too. I want a city the likes of which has never been seen in these lands, I want high walls and wide streets and a palace overlooking the sea. I want arenas for racing horses and chariots and for games of four corners. Mayhap even for the knights to joust and for melees to be held. Public baths and colonnaded buildings and grand statues, a palace rather than the hovel of dirt and wood that Aegon calls his seat here. Gleaming walls bathed in the light of a warm sun. A monument that will last a thousand years, my name remembered." To speak those dreams aloud for once, it felt good. To know that another heard what I wanted.
And then the moment was over, and I felt embarrassed to have let that out. "G-d, I sound almost a child." I felt my cheeks burning.
"It is better than the sourness you have shown of late, sister. I had forgotten you were capable of showing such joy." He laughed. "If Aegon is to be believed, y-"
My knuckles cracked as I balled my hands into fists. "Say another word, little brother, and I will feed you to Vhagar feet first." We both knew I would not do it, and that the words themselves were very clearly just said in anger. I felt awful, like my heart and chest hurt. I liked Orys, I did not wish to upset him. "I apologize, I did not mean what I said." His expression had lost the soft joy it held before, and he just looked tired.
"Sister, you and Aegon fight too much." He said the words, and I wanted to scream. Fight too much? Would that Aegon would fuck off and burn. "You act as though you desire it, both of you do. Every slight, every argument I have seen from you, and neither of you so much as try to stop." I scowled.
"He insults me, and undermines me and treats me like.. Like… I am some lesser person than he. As though he owns me." Orys grimaced at that.
"Why do you goad him, then? At every opportunity, you seem to do as he does. It is... " he tapped his chin for a moment, the chin which had the beginnings of a beard covering it with black fuzz, "When I was young, before father brought my mother into Dragonstone's keep, before he brought me, and I lived with my grandfather. I remember two cats that lived near to our home. They had their places, their hunting spots, and their perches, I remember. But always they would hiss angrily if the other so much as stepped a foot their way, and yet they always would try to move toward the other. You and Aegon remind me nothing so much as those cats, sister."
"Have you told Aegon this? Has he told you to tell me? Was this all him?" I scowled more, feeling my face heating up.
"Believe it or no, sister, I have my own desires separate from Aegon. I am not his slave. I wished to visit you before I left, and speak with you. You are my sister, Visenya. Regardless of that we do not share a womb. I care for you. If Aegon gave me the chance, I would tell him the same twice over. I am grateful that our father took me into his household, and that I was allowed to be raised with my blood."
"Mother would have hated you, I imagine. Grandfather would have thrown you to the rocks for your hair." I felt emotionally tired, and I imagined my smile reflected that. "For what it is worth, your mother is a good woman, and she raised a fine son." I patted his shoulder.
Orys smiled wryly.
"You have gotten soft, sister." He laughed.
We both did, smiling all the way to where Rhaenys waited. And I kept that talk in mind all the way until I had to leave by ship.
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Aegon had given Rhaenys and Orys command of eleven-thousand. Two-thousand from the Narrow Sea, and the rest from the Blackwater coast. I tapped my chin, and three-thousand mercenaries, I corrected myself. Aegon had gained the services of the Sons of the Trident and the Company of the Wing. Meanwhile, Aegon would take five-hundred men and march through the Riverlands against Black Harren. With luck, he hoped to have the Riverlords side with him immediately.
Rhaenys and Orys had Rhaenys' Meraxes, and eleven-thousand men. Aegon gave me four-thousand, and expected me to take the Vale. It grated. Is he setting me up for failure on purpose? I could not remember how many men he'd sent with Visenya originally. Vhagar is smallest, and yet I am meant to take the Vale with her and not even a fifth of the men the Vale can muster.
Seeing my various things being carried off, I felt a pang of sadness. I had grown used to the camps, as stagnant as they had been becoming. Yet again I was being taken away from what was familiar, and forced into other places. I was glad I had bathed after morning practice, with the servants as busy as they were and the camps in the state they were in, I knew not if I'd have gotten one if I'd waited.
I looked down at a gloved hand. When had I grown accustomed to wearing armor? It feels almost a second skin. Visenya had been used to it, and again I wondered how much of her was around. How much of her I was. Part of me enjoyed the dress up, I looked almost heroic. A warrior-queen in silvered scale and a purple cloak trimmed with gold. It was still hard to admit sometimes. Another part felt it was simply part and parcel of being at war, that she had trained for it and rulership her whole life.
She is me, I suppose. It was a fact I hated. But there was little I could do but accept it. Who I was, was… simply myself. I did not know where she stopped and I began. I remembered her life after all, I knew her feelings, I felt her feelings. But who she had been was not going to keep me from being who I was now, and who I wanted to become. And who is that?
"You are brooding, sister." I jolted to attention at the smooth voice of my youngest brother. Was Orys' mother the only one? How long was he here? I needed to stop losing focus like this. I turned my gaze to Orys, who stood to my right. Dressed in black boots, well made and fit for a lord. Linen trousers colored scarlet and a white tunic with silver scrollwork at the cuffs and hem, and designs like dragons and flame, geometric patterns on the trim of his red cloak trimmed with yet more silver thread, all of it making him look almost an imitation of Aegon. The sincerest form of flattery. I snorted.
"Is that so easy to notice?" I laughed, feeling my lips curl upward as I looked at his face. It did not hurt so much anymore, though I still found faces in general unpleasant to gaze at. Orys looked much like Aegon, but even rougher, and his dark hair and dark purple eyes only served to obscure that. But the smile on his face did not come so easy to him, it never had, from what I remembered.
"You are not difficult to read, my Queen." He said the last word with a smile of his own, almost tasting the word. "If I have overstepped my bounds, you have my apologies." He bowed his head, almost in reflex, as if he expected to have his head chewed off.
I shook my head, "Speak freely, small brother. I find I prefer that more of late. Besides, you are soon to leave for Argilac's kingdom, and I know not when we will see each other again." I began walking down the hill and out the camp, as Orys followed. I could not stand being in place as we spoke. I needed the movement. "I envy you, a war fighting alongside Rhaenys." I had missed her when I was gone, and her presence was almost addictive now. She made me happy, and I needed that feeling, the feeling I'd missed since I was taken from home.
"Fighting alongside Rhaenys? More like she will burn the Storm Lords while I command the camps, and then I will have Argella's hand as Aegon promised. I will rule Argilac's castle, and his land and be above all of Aegon's other lords." He repeated the words as if to himself. There was a hunger in his eyes I recognized from men like Daemon, the flicker of interest, of desire when they spoke of something they craved.
"You want it." I said the words, it was not some grand realization, but a blunt and almost stupid statement on my part.
"Like a starving man wants meat, sister. I do not wish to live solely off the scraps from Aegon's table, I love him and he is my brother, but I want something to leave to my children. Gods, Visenya, children! I will wed the daughter of a king, what would father say to that?" He smiled broadly, there was an excitement that was almost childlike in itself. "Mayhap something of the treasure Argilac gained in the east will still be in his coffers. Can you imagine it, sister? Me, almost a king, our brother the greatest king these lands have ever known. We will be rich and have power beyond that which Gaemon himself ever dreamed of."
His own excitement was infectious, I found myself smiling with him, the glare of the sun reflecting off his cloak clasp into my eye was the only thing that marred it for even a moment. "I would not mind, I have plans for this place, little brother." I made a sweeping motion with both arms, indicating the hills and the bay, "I want things too. I want a city the likes of which has never been seen in these lands, I want high walls and wide streets and a palace overlooking the sea. I want arenas for racing horses and chariots and for games of four corners. Mayhap even for the knights to joust and for melees to be held. Public baths and colonnaded buildings and grand statues, a palace rather than the hovel of dirt and wood that Aegon calls his seat here. Gleaming walls bathed in the light of a warm sun. A monument that will last a thousand years, my name remembered." To speak those dreams aloud for once, it felt good. To know that another heard what I wanted.
And then the moment was over, and I felt embarrassed to have let that out. "G-d, I sound almost a child." I felt my cheeks burning.
"It is better than the sourness you have shown of late, sister. I had forgotten you were capable of showing such joy." He laughed. "If Aegon is to be believed, y-"
My knuckles cracked as I balled my hands into fists. "Say another word, little brother, and I will feed you to Vhagar feet first." We both knew I would not do it, and that the words themselves were very clearly just said in anger. I felt awful, like my heart and chest hurt. I liked Orys, I did not wish to upset him. "I apologize, I did not mean what I said." His expression had lost the soft joy it held before, and he just looked tired.
"Sister, you and Aegon fight too much." He said the words, and I wanted to scream. Fight too much? Would that Aegon would fuck off and burn. "You act as though you desire it, both of you do. Every slight, every argument I have seen from you, and neither of you so much as try to stop." I scowled.
"He insults me, and undermines me and treats me like.. Like… I am some lesser person than he. As though he owns me." Orys grimaced at that.
"Why do you goad him, then? At every opportunity, you seem to do as he does. It is... " he tapped his chin for a moment, the chin which had the beginnings of a beard covering it with black fuzz, "When I was young, before father brought my mother into Dragonstone's keep, before he brought me, and I lived with my grandfather. I remember two cats that lived near to our home. They had their places, their hunting spots, and their perches, I remember. But always they would hiss angrily if the other so much as stepped a foot their way, and yet they always would try to move toward the other. You and Aegon remind me nothing so much as those cats, sister."
"Have you told Aegon this? Has he told you to tell me? Was this all him?" I scowled more, feeling my face heating up.
"Believe it or no, sister, I have my own desires separate from Aegon. I am not his slave. I wished to visit you before I left, and speak with you. You are my sister, Visenya. Regardless of that we do not share a womb. I care for you. If Aegon gave me the chance, I would tell him the same twice over. I am grateful that our father took me into his household, and that I was allowed to be raised with my blood."
"Mother would have hated you, I imagine. Grandfather would have thrown you to the rocks for your hair." I felt emotionally tired, and I imagined my smile reflected that. "For what it is worth, your mother is a good woman, and she raised a fine son." I patted his shoulder.
Orys smiled wryly.
"You have gotten soft, sister." He laughed.
We both did, smiling all the way to where Rhaenys waited. And I kept that talk in mind all the way until I had to leave by ship.
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Chapter Twelve: Queen of Sea and Sky
"In the navy," I plucked the strings of the harp with my strong dextrous fingers, "Yes, you can sail the seven seas, in the navy, you can set your mind at ease…" I hummed a little, smiling as I bobbed my head with the tune that partly existed within my head and partly was produced by my musical efforts.
Playing the harp was one way I had learned to pass the time alongside the morning exercises to keep my fighting skill sharp. After all, I knew how now, why should I not take advantage of it? With my eyes closed I could almost imagine I was somewhere else entirely, rather than on a ship headed for Claw Isle with the rest of the royal fleet for the purpose of collecting more supplies from their granaries. Dull work, but it needs doing. Men needed to eat, and fresh water always needed to be in excess. That was what my uncle recommended at least. It fit with what I remembered of Justinian's campaign to retake Africa, and Daemon was the expert, so I was not about to doubt him on that.
"Every man wants to be a macho man.." I snorted, and felt the end of my braid tickle my waist. I am anything but. I miss our little games of denial, love. For a moment I could feel the ghost of a touch, the sensation of my cheek being pinched. My heart hurt, knowing it wasn't real.
Visenya was a woman who had been taught to play the harp, she could sing and dance, though she was not so talented as Rhaenys. Yet… I want to. I wanted more than anything to just… sing. The part of me I knew was me had grown used to hearing Visenya's voice, but the idea of singing with it made me want to die inside of embarrassment, I couldn't hit the same notes with it in the same way. Another part missed singing, something I'd loved since childhood.
But I needed to do it. It made me happy. I hummed to myself, and murmured lyrics in my mother tongue. In that mongrel tongue of French and Latin and Frisian and Greek and some other kinds of Germanic. "Even when it seems that I feel nothing, you're the only reason that my heart's still beating…" The notes were different, and I could never actually check, but I did the best I could.
I realized I had stopped playing the harp a few minutes before. And I wondered if anyone had somehow heard me from inside the cabin anyway. That sensation of discomfort, the worry that people would know what I said, that they would hear it and never tell me to my face, that the world knew everything and was just humoring me, was letting me think anything was a secret, that they could read my mind. I shoved it away. It's paranoia.
Even if people heard me, they could not understand. Nobody knew English. Even the words I spoke sounded wrong, when I spoke in it. I hated it, I hated that her tongue sounded right and good and mine sounded like it was some weird secondary language even stranger than Westerosi common. A mongrel tongue. I barely kept myself from tearing at my hair in response to that thought, and I breathed deeply to calm myself.
I wanted to be happy. I knew that now. More than anything. I want to be safe. I want to be happy. I don't want… I don't want him to touch me again. A part of me admitted I wanted power, I wanted to be immortal, I wanted to be young and beautiful forever. I wanted to spend my days without worries walking on beaches and playing games with those I loved. To read everything I ever had on my lists. To learn everything, to never worry. To go home. Wherever that was. Another part of me viewed most of those as the vain wishes of a child and dreamer.
A glance at a silvered-mirror showed the face of a woman I had become intensely familiar with. I could barely remember my old face now. Nor did I want to. I hated it. I hated the masculine features it had. Yet still I missed my blue-brown-grey eyes. This is what you wanted. That thought which had been with me from the day I woke at Driftmark still stabbed at me. "Not like this." I mumbled.
I sighed, looking away from my reflection.
Part of me knew there were ways to retain youth to some degree, though the knowledge of how to do it was beyond me, and the cost was too high regardless. A human life is not worth me avoiding wrinkles. But part of me thought otherwise, I did not want to know which part.
With a grunt, I rose from my seat and dressed myself for riding. Part of me yearned for the novelty of my first days, when dressing was still somewhat of an affirmation, something exciting and new and different. Even after Aegon had tainted it. Both parts of me were still proud of my appearance. What beast of the earth can compare with we dragonlords? I flexed my arm, enjoying the tensing of muscle. As comfortable in ringmail as in silk, indeed. I smirked.
A need had burned in me for a day, but it had felt like years.
I looked myself over. Dressed not in armor, but in a sturdy linen. Thick enough to keep the cold out if the temperature were to take a dive. Black and red in color. Dark Sister at my belt. I did not need servants to help me with this sort of thing. I even wore earrings, golden and set with rubies.
"G-d, you're beautiful." I was vain, but it felt good to see what I did, and so I left for where Vhagar was on deck. Passing by the men who worked the deck, had I my old skin the warmth of the day would have been just right. From barely able to tolerate heat to absolutely craving it. The sun especially felt wonderful. Dragons were creatures of fire, of summer and the sun and warmth. How much dragon blood do I have in me? Was it a craving born of blood, or just something particular to me now?
I almost felt the low rumble as Vhagar lifted her head from the deck. The deep thrum in her powerful chest, the same place from which fire spread inside her. With each step I felt my heart quicken, a warmth born in my own breast filling my limbs with something not unlike the feeling of stepping into a hot bath. I almost did not even see the men who manned the sails and did whatever work sailors did. Why should I care? I am no captain.
The orders I barked out I did not even hear as I placed my hands upon Vhagar. Even through the gloves I wore the heat of her dark green scales was like hot coals but they did not burn. Her golden eyes were fixed on me, and I wondered just how much she knew. Not ten minutes later I climbed up the saddle, and the voices of those who asked if I should not chain myself to her were little more than buzzings in my ears.
I was a daughter of Valyria. A dragon. It was wrong to chain a dragon. Did they not see? Of course they can not. They are but beasts of the field! It is their fate to be chained to the earth, they could never understand the sky! I laughed when Vhagar took off, when her wings caught the air, when the leathery wings made mighty winds in her wake. I laughed more when I saw the ships below, when they grew smaller and smaller.
I feared the sight of the land from the skies, but I loved the skies even more. Every beat of Vhagar's powerful wings stirred something inside me that put the rides I had gone on as a child to shame. Even the most vigorous ride on horseback could not compare.
It was like being in love. It was every kiss I had ever had. It was the heat of summer, the touch of the sun upon my cheeks, it was the salt and smoke of Dragonstone, it was the white beaches of Driftmark, it was the muddy river of my home, it was the valley and the bluffs and it was the endless sky streaked by the touch of rosy-fingered dawn and it was freedom.
Is this what you feel, sister? When you fly upon Meraxes?
There was no Aegon, no worries, no pain, and no loss. There was only the sea and sky and the wind in my hair and the heat of my dragon beneath me and the sound of her roar when I threw my head back and laughed once more.
Author's Note: Figured I'd release this to y'all since honestly, I like putting out content. A regular size chapter is up next!
Playing the harp was one way I had learned to pass the time alongside the morning exercises to keep my fighting skill sharp. After all, I knew how now, why should I not take advantage of it? With my eyes closed I could almost imagine I was somewhere else entirely, rather than on a ship headed for Claw Isle with the rest of the royal fleet for the purpose of collecting more supplies from their granaries. Dull work, but it needs doing. Men needed to eat, and fresh water always needed to be in excess. That was what my uncle recommended at least. It fit with what I remembered of Justinian's campaign to retake Africa, and Daemon was the expert, so I was not about to doubt him on that.
"Every man wants to be a macho man.." I snorted, and felt the end of my braid tickle my waist. I am anything but. I miss our little games of denial, love. For a moment I could feel the ghost of a touch, the sensation of my cheek being pinched. My heart hurt, knowing it wasn't real.
Visenya was a woman who had been taught to play the harp, she could sing and dance, though she was not so talented as Rhaenys. Yet… I want to. I wanted more than anything to just… sing. The part of me I knew was me had grown used to hearing Visenya's voice, but the idea of singing with it made me want to die inside of embarrassment, I couldn't hit the same notes with it in the same way. Another part missed singing, something I'd loved since childhood.
But I needed to do it. It made me happy. I hummed to myself, and murmured lyrics in my mother tongue. In that mongrel tongue of French and Latin and Frisian and Greek and some other kinds of Germanic. "Even when it seems that I feel nothing, you're the only reason that my heart's still beating…" The notes were different, and I could never actually check, but I did the best I could.
I realized I had stopped playing the harp a few minutes before. And I wondered if anyone had somehow heard me from inside the cabin anyway. That sensation of discomfort, the worry that people would know what I said, that they would hear it and never tell me to my face, that the world knew everything and was just humoring me, was letting me think anything was a secret, that they could read my mind. I shoved it away. It's paranoia.
Even if people heard me, they could not understand. Nobody knew English. Even the words I spoke sounded wrong, when I spoke in it. I hated it, I hated that her tongue sounded right and good and mine sounded like it was some weird secondary language even stranger than Westerosi common. A mongrel tongue. I barely kept myself from tearing at my hair in response to that thought, and I breathed deeply to calm myself.
I wanted to be happy. I knew that now. More than anything. I want to be safe. I want to be happy. I don't want… I don't want him to touch me again. A part of me admitted I wanted power, I wanted to be immortal, I wanted to be young and beautiful forever. I wanted to spend my days without worries walking on beaches and playing games with those I loved. To read everything I ever had on my lists. To learn everything, to never worry. To go home. Wherever that was. Another part of me viewed most of those as the vain wishes of a child and dreamer.
A glance at a silvered-mirror showed the face of a woman I had become intensely familiar with. I could barely remember my old face now. Nor did I want to. I hated it. I hated the masculine features it had. Yet still I missed my blue-brown-grey eyes. This is what you wanted. That thought which had been with me from the day I woke at Driftmark still stabbed at me. "Not like this." I mumbled.
I sighed, looking away from my reflection.
Part of me knew there were ways to retain youth to some degree, though the knowledge of how to do it was beyond me, and the cost was too high regardless. A human life is not worth me avoiding wrinkles. But part of me thought otherwise, I did not want to know which part.
With a grunt, I rose from my seat and dressed myself for riding. Part of me yearned for the novelty of my first days, when dressing was still somewhat of an affirmation, something exciting and new and different. Even after Aegon had tainted it. Both parts of me were still proud of my appearance. What beast of the earth can compare with we dragonlords? I flexed my arm, enjoying the tensing of muscle. As comfortable in ringmail as in silk, indeed. I smirked.
A need had burned in me for a day, but it had felt like years.
I looked myself over. Dressed not in armor, but in a sturdy linen. Thick enough to keep the cold out if the temperature were to take a dive. Black and red in color. Dark Sister at my belt. I did not need servants to help me with this sort of thing. I even wore earrings, golden and set with rubies.
"G-d, you're beautiful." I was vain, but it felt good to see what I did, and so I left for where Vhagar was on deck. Passing by the men who worked the deck, had I my old skin the warmth of the day would have been just right. From barely able to tolerate heat to absolutely craving it. The sun especially felt wonderful. Dragons were creatures of fire, of summer and the sun and warmth. How much dragon blood do I have in me? Was it a craving born of blood, or just something particular to me now?
I almost felt the low rumble as Vhagar lifted her head from the deck. The deep thrum in her powerful chest, the same place from which fire spread inside her. With each step I felt my heart quicken, a warmth born in my own breast filling my limbs with something not unlike the feeling of stepping into a hot bath. I almost did not even see the men who manned the sails and did whatever work sailors did. Why should I care? I am no captain.
The orders I barked out I did not even hear as I placed my hands upon Vhagar. Even through the gloves I wore the heat of her dark green scales was like hot coals but they did not burn. Her golden eyes were fixed on me, and I wondered just how much she knew. Not ten minutes later I climbed up the saddle, and the voices of those who asked if I should not chain myself to her were little more than buzzings in my ears.
I was a daughter of Valyria. A dragon. It was wrong to chain a dragon. Did they not see? Of course they can not. They are but beasts of the field! It is their fate to be chained to the earth, they could never understand the sky! I laughed when Vhagar took off, when her wings caught the air, when the leathery wings made mighty winds in her wake. I laughed more when I saw the ships below, when they grew smaller and smaller.
I feared the sight of the land from the skies, but I loved the skies even more. Every beat of Vhagar's powerful wings stirred something inside me that put the rides I had gone on as a child to shame. Even the most vigorous ride on horseback could not compare.
It was like being in love. It was every kiss I had ever had. It was the heat of summer, the touch of the sun upon my cheeks, it was the salt and smoke of Dragonstone, it was the white beaches of Driftmark, it was the muddy river of my home, it was the valley and the bluffs and it was the endless sky streaked by the touch of rosy-fingered dawn and it was freedom.
Is this what you feel, sister? When you fly upon Meraxes?
There was no Aegon, no worries, no pain, and no loss. There was only the sea and sky and the wind in my hair and the heat of my dragon beneath me and the sound of her roar when I threw my head back and laughed once more.
Author's Note: Figured I'd release this to y'all since honestly, I like putting out content. A regular size chapter is up next!
- Pronouns
- He
I am confused a bit. Is there any prequel to this? And why is the word God written in that way?
Prequel? What are you talking about?
The hyphen is a respect thing.
The question about a prequel is because it feels like the MC is referring to events that happened to them prior to the first chapter we got and we don't know what she's on about.
And the hyphen thing just feels odd when encountered as if the thought or word is corrupted and not fully processable by the character.
And the hyphen thing just feels odd when encountered as if the thought or word is corrupted and not fully processable by the character.
- Location
- USA
I thought that those were parts of the SI's old life before she was dropped into the ASOIAF world.
Chapter Thirteen: Kinsmen and Clawmen
"Niece, are you certain?" Daemon said, his voice clear as always. My eyes were drawn to his hands, strong hands with well-maintained nails, and to the fine rings adorning them, set with sapphires and emeralds and even a gold ring, shaped such that the ruby was set in the mouth of a serpent. Father had given it to him, I remembered.
"I am your Queen, Lord Velaryon," though he meant no harm, it was not his place to ask, I had called this meeting of what few lords and lordlings Aegon had sent with me to tell them what would be done. Not to be prodded and asked needless questions. "We will meet again in three days hence, at Claw Isle. Be ready for my arrival, and be prepared to provide extra provisions shortly after."
Daemon bowed his head, "As you will, Your Grace," He smiled, "How many extra mouths must I be prepared for? A thousand? Two?" His tone was respectful, calm and even. But still it made me bristle. The man's smile did not touch his eyes. He is not your friend.
"Two-thousand, I suppose. I should like to bring as many men as possible, but we must also do this with haste so I will not wait for the farthest from Claw Isle to arrive." We needed more men for the Vale. Visenya took the Eyrie with but a single child on her lap. That little voice stabbed at me again.
"You are certain they will follow you, Your Grace?" The voice of Triston Massey made me feel a flash of annoyance. I breathed slightly, in and out, and barely kept my hand from my braid. Massey's fingers stroked the ends of his long honey-blond mustache. His brown eyes looked into my purple, and I fought the urge to look away. Queens do not show weakness. I only wished eye contact were not so uncomfortable, though it had become less so of late.
"You had best pray to your gods that they do, Lord Massey. Elsewise we will be in the Vale for far longer." I needed men. The Clawmen became the most staunchly loyal to the Targaryens originally, and all that Visenya needed to do then was say they would kneel to none save the King of Westeros himself. What would it take to make them kneel to the Queen alone?
"You have my prayers, Great Queen," the boisterous voice of Aron Celtigar chimed in. Bootlicker. Aron was prettier than Vaeron, certainly. At twenty-one years of age, and another inch of height he was more filled out than his younger brother. His cap of red felt was circular, just like Vaeron's. His cloak was similar, though silver where Vaeron's trim was white, and his shoes not having the toes exposed. He'd not left me alone since he'd been assigned to me. Aegon had taken Vaeron with him across the Blackwater Rush. "With you in command, we are sure to win the Vale as swift as your dragon flies!"
I smiled at him, my purple eyes meeting his blue, "Would you like a glass of lemon juice, dear cousin?" I let a warmth slip into my voice that I normally reserved for Rhaenys.
"Of course, Your Grace! I shall gladly drink it, and to your health!" His expression had brightened noticeably at the word 'cousin', but he still looked confused overall. "B-but why are you offering such here?"
My lips curled upward slightly once more, "With all the boot licking you have been doing, I thought you would like to wash the taste from your mouth." I said, in as pleased a voice as any Visenya had ever used.
His face reddened at that. I smirked. G-d, that felt good.
"Claw Isle. Three days. I shall see you then." I walked off, waving my hand dismissively as I did so, and let out a laugh as I made my way to Vhagar. For once, it was good to be Queen.
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Crackclaw Point was lovely in a rustic sort of way, I supposed. Densely forested and dotted with villages and small towns along the coasts. I knew it was filled with valleys further inland, and those valleys had their own lords and customs. It was wilder than the lands near Duskendale and even Massey's Hook. Vaeron had told me that the Clawmen liked to boast that their harder lands made for harder men, and that was what let the Clawmen throw off the first Andal invaders and the Darklyn kings as well.
The lands were hilly, and from the skies I could just about make out some of the bogs and marshes of the land. Some forts, and even old castles long abandoned or left to ruin.
More likely is that poor lands make for more desperate men. I was counting on that.
I knew not why I had ever feared the skies as I had before. To see the world from dragonback only made me more aware of its beauty, and in some way I felt it let me understand it better. The original Visenya had not experienced the kind of joy I had, I knew that now. Not when riding Vhagar at least. The feeling of absolute freedom and liberation, the desire to break free of the world's bounds. Keep to the coast.
The lands spread out beneath me like the maps I had pored over a hundred times. Like Aegon's painted table back at Dragonstone. Do not mess this up. The wind blowing through my hair felt brisk, and though on Vhagar's back I covered leagues in record time I yearned for the world to slow down. To be able to see the farmlands stretch by a bit less quickly, to perhaps know the names of the fishing villages I passed between towns that were actually on maps we owned.
I wondered if the patience for such tedious travel had come from Visenya or if I had simply adjusted to my life's new pace. I wanted to go everywhere. To see the Wall, and visit the Arbor again. I wanted to fly around Driftmark and Dragonstone with Rhaenys and her Meraxes. Lord Redwyne would as soon slay me as host me now, and we will be gone from Dragonstone until Aegon's vanity is achieved. I hoped when we returned I might move my chambers to the Sea-Dragon Tower.
Looking down, I knew we were not far, and in a short time I had taken Vhagar to the grassy, lightly wooded hills and a stout castle overlooking the Bay of Crabs. The world below was illuminated by the mid-day sun. We had passed low enough to see farmers in their fields and men traveling on trodden dirt paths and even a group of armored men in multi-colored cloaks surrounding some few men traveling westward, carrying a banner with some multi-colored sigil on it I could not make out from the distance.
The bags Vhagar had were large enough to carry banners, and I retrieved one. A banner of truce in the style of those used by the Westerosi. Albeit one hastily made, a banner flag of seven colors. As we made to land I raised aloft the banner of truce, and I told the men at the gates that I wished to speak with their lord. I was made to wait before the gates of Dyre Den.
As I looked upon the walls, I was reminded less of the fortress of the Dun Fort, nor even the smaller castles at Stokeworth and along the coast of the Blackwater but instead… Dyre Den was almost built partly into the hill. Certainly it was built upwards, but part of the land seemed like it had been leveled long ago by the hands of laborers. It had three small towers, all in decent repair, which I imagined I could handle with ease if things turned ugly. Vhagar's flame would melt them like wax. Sandstone formed an entire section of the outer wall. There were fewer men at the battlements than were at Stokeworth, and indeed the place overall just seemed… poorer. All the better.
I took a deep sniff, and the faint scent of pines filled my nostrils. A smile came to my lips, as for a moment I could almost hear the streams and the crackling of the fire in a childhood campground. The smell of crushed pine beneath hiking shoes. The taste of a marshmallow roasted over the fire, gooey and hot and sweet…
Then horns sounded, and drew me out of my reverie. One man was brought out, grey-haired save for a few reddish-brown bits that hadn't finished greying yet. He bore a peace banner as well, though he was followed by another man carrying a banner with the heraldry of the Brunes of Dyre Den.
"I would have thought a lord would at least come with a sworn sword or ten. Even a maester would be acceptable." I said, as I climbed down from Vhagar.
The man simply smiled ruefully, "Alas, my lady, my nephew is the lord here and not I. What is it that you want? For us to bend the knee to the knee to you? I w-" I cut him off. As if he were sat before the throne of Dragonstone, an audience of courtiers and lords sworn to Visenya's father in attendance rather than myself sitting atop Vhagar, the only audience this lord's uncle and what few men were on the battlements.
"I demand to speak with the Lord of Dyre Den. I have an offer for him." I felt a twinge of guilt at interrupting him, but I needed to do this now. I did not have time to play around. The lord's… uncle, frowned but then bowed his head.
"Of course, Lady Targaryen, I will tell him at once." They never have knelt to anyone bearing a crown, why should I get any more respect than that? I reminded myself as the twitch of bristling pride threatened to break out in some heated remark or another. I rested my hand against Vhagar while I waited, and counted the seconds. After the eight minute mark I started drumming my fingers against Vhagar's scales.
You can wait a few minutes. Just not hours. I calmed myself, a breath in and out all I needed while the lord of the keep was brought forth. A surprisingly stout man, not very tall, and fairly broad shouldered. He was maybe in his thirties. I did not care more than that. His clothing was less fine than that worn by even Vaeron's brothers. This is a lord?
At least his guard was more impressive than his uncle's. A dozen men, including his uncle from before, and two banner bearers and a horn sounder.
"Hail, Lady Targaryen. You stand before mine seat, held by my father before me and his before him. What business have you here?" His words were amused, though I caught his eyes as they kept glancing at Vhagar, the twitch of nervousness filled me with a small amount of happiness. Let him fear her.
"An offer for your ears alone, Lord Brune. One from a queen, no mere lady of a castle." I said as I resisted the urge to touch Dark Sister's hilt.
I did not expect laughter. My cheeks burned.
"A queen you may be, but not my own. We of Dyre Den and the Claw are free men, not dogs rolling over for whatever man with a crown comes begging our obedience." The words stung at something I'd always had, but until recently hadn't always enjoyed. Pride.
"I come not to beg, Lord Brune. I should like to speak with you in private. Ride with me for a time and I shall find us some clearing to discuss the finer points of my offer." I pointed at Vhagar as I said the words.
"My apologies, Lady Targaryen, but I will not ride with you on your beast. If you wish to speak with me alone, we shall do it in my keep with guardsmen outside the doors. Aye, I should like that far more." His tone was even.
I bit back harsher words. I did not need to make this more difficult, but I was still displeased.
"Alone in your keep? Surrounded by your guards?" At that, Elmar Brune glared.
"You come without warning, and you have the gall to insult my hospitality once I allow you within my home? Girl, were you my daughter I would tan your hide." The words were as heated as they were irreverent.
"Robert Darklyn had crossbowmen ready to loose their bolts at me under banner of truce. I know not how you Westerosi do things, so I am merely cautious." I said the words quickly and with a precision that I would have been shocked by normally. No stammering.
"Crispin Darklyn's boy? Tell it true, Lady Targaryen." He seemed eager, and so I climbed down from Vhagar, the chains at my feet undone. Offering my hand, and he clasped it with his own. I still did not like the feeling of skin touching.
"We will speak more inside, Lord Brune." I smiled, and he returned it, the previous accidental insult seemingly forgotten.
As we walked into the Dyre Den I could not help but compare it to the Dun Fort. Where the Dun Fort was clearly the seat of old kings and rich lords fat off the bounty of the Narrow Sea and blessed with fertile lands, the Dyre Den… was significantly plainer.
There were tapestries, well-made ones, but not the masterpieces at the Dun Fort. Sure, a few had some touches of the Narrow Sea style to them, but there was a distinctly alien feel that I could not recognize even from what time Aegon and I had spent at the Arbor or Lannisport. As if the men of the Claw were a breed apart, but enough was familiar that it seemed uncanny. Did they once have their own tongue? A part of me wondered. The common folk might have their own dialects, as far as I knew. I could not recall really speaking to many people not of some noble status or above the lower class outside of rare occasions at ports.
It was still the seat of a lord, though, so servants scurried about and men-at-arms went about their business and overall it just… felt normal. Whether Dragonstone, Driftmark, the Arbor, or anywhere else it seemed that seats of power had some commonality to them. Would what I have in mind truly be so different?
Every second I had to resist the urge to reach for Dark Sister's hilt or glance behind me. At every hallway and doorway I felt my heart race, half-terrified of men emerging from the shadows and gutting me. I had placed myself in his power, and was worried it might have been a mistake.
I crushed that feeling of paranoia with some effort.
At last we reached Lord Brune's solar, and I refused the offer of wine, as tempting as it was at the moment. I did not want to start drinking, and then to not stop until I could not even move from my seat. Rhaenys had told me a little of what had happened the last time after all.
Seated and with my back stiffly against a chair, I spoke first.
"I want you to kneel to me, when my family has conquered Westeros, there will be but one crown and one throne. Kneel to me, and you will be equal to houses like the Lannisters and Gardeners. Knowing no lord save for the King of All Westeros himself." I resisted the urge to drum my fingers.
"No kings? All I have to do is kneel, you say?" He stroked at his beard, and smiled.
"No king save for Aegon." I nodded slightly. The sooner I was done with this the better.
"I believe not. I pay no tribute nor taxes now, what you offer is the yoke of service. Is that all?" I had expected this. Harrenhal yet stood, unbroken by dragonfire. I refused to make an example of Duskendale either.
"Is that so, Lord Brune? Think of what you are rejecting." I did not want to waste what I had gained if it was unnecessary.
Elmar Brune swirled his wine around, relaxing in his chair as if this were a summer time meal date as opposed to negotiation over the future of his people.
Frowning, I continued, "When my brother comes with twenty-thousand men and a dragon as big as your castle, what then? He broke the back of Volantis, what resistance can you offer?" Aegon had burned the fleet at Lys and a single fort, then rode with the rest of the coalition until it was over.
"If you come we will hide where you shall not find us, as we always have against outsiders. Fire does not burn good strong earth, and we have our places you cannot touch us. Your lords will not want to waste years fighting us, and you will leave. The Andals did not conquer us, the Durrandons could not, and the Hoares never could try."
"Are threats and might be's all you have to offer, Lady Targaryen?" His tone had me half-wanting to string him up by a rope woven from his ugly beard.
"No, and in fact I have a better deal." I felt my heart racing. If this did not work, I still could go to the other men after all. But failure always hurt.
"What is this deal, Lady Targaryen?" His voice was a bit rumbly even when it was calm.
"Kneel to me, and your family will be given lands from the former holdings of the Darklyns. They've very little, after what I've taken. There is land enough for many second and third sons to prosper. Not vast holdings, but they are good ones regardless. My brother would expect you to kneel without so much as a crumb of spoils." I rubbed my finger and thumb together idly, it still felt odd to tower over most men, honestly. It would have been worse if we'd been standing, "I will reward you, so long as you serve me loyally."
"Why? What do you want?" He said. The previous calmness to his voice was gone, replaced with curiosity.
"I am going to the Vale, and I want more men. I could probably take it with the few thousands of foot I have, but more swords are always better. In fact, should any Valemen refuse to kneel, you and yours will be placed high to receive the lands taken from them. Join me, and you can gain much." I said.
He seemed to doze off slightly, in thought. Did I overplay my hand? Shit, did I fuck this up?
As if in response to my thoughts his gaze became clear and intense and he nodded his head with a smile.
"You have my swords, my Queen. I am your man, so long as you hold up your end of the bargain." He offered his hand and I grasped it firmly.
"I want you to call your banners, call for all your horsemen to go to Claw Isle. Crab Isle, I think your people call it. The fleet is there, and we'll be setting off for the Vale from there. Your footmen can march there as well, and they can be part of the second group. We want to do this quickly, and get a foothold before the Valemen can respond." I nodded to myself, "Now, I believe I told you I'd finish telling you about Darklyn?"
Elmar Brune laughed, and food was brought in by servants while we spoke. Some was familiar, and I found myself rather hungry. I could not remember enjoying cabbage before now anyway. I wound up being fairly picky, and ate just a couple of things.
So I was surprised to find the cabbage rolls stuffed with a crumbly cheese were… fairly good. Washed down with tea with a touch of brandy added, and I wondered how much liquor needed to be watered down in order to remain effective-ish, but not awful.
"The bastard tried to violate banner of truce, and was not man enough to fall on his own sword? I wish I had been there to see it, your brother sounds a man with a fine sense of humor. Leaving him alive with naught but a pittance to his name. It near as makes up for his father rejecting my offer to have my sister wed the spoiled lordling. Said she was a girl with no teats not worthy of the Dun Fort. Mayhap I shall unhorse Ser Robert at a tourney again."
The bearded lord laughed more, and regaled me with a story of a tourney at Rook's Rest eight years before. How he had brought down Darklyn in the lists.
"The Darklyns were becoming too big for their own good. Near enough acted as though they were our kings when the Hoares let the yoke fall from them, I will wager the only reason they had not taken up a crown again was fear of Black Harren. Now they are gone, and we men of the Claw still prosper!"
As nice as the meal and conversation was, I left Dyre Den a couple hours later. Sated and actually somewhat eager for my next stop on the way to Claw Isle.
From there I visited Brownhollow and Hunter's Den and Crabb Hill and so on, making the same offer to each lord in turn. Thankfully, most of them were more amenable than Elmar Brune had been, although they required other concessions. Dennis Crabb wanted his grandson to be made Aegon's page, Nestor Boggs wanted his second son to squire for my cousin and to be granted a place in my entourage, Dick Brune had tried to offer his niece's hand in marriage to my brother.
"Ask Dark Sister firstly." I had said to that. No girl deserved to be subjected to Aegon, after all, and if they thought I was being a faithful protective wife all the better. No doubt they thought I was a degenerate brother-fucking whore anyway. And what is wrong with brother wedding sister, anyway? A small part of me thought, and I wanted to strangle it.
And so on. It was a lot more back and forth than I had been expecting, but ultimately the trips had been a success.
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In the last years of the reign of Tristifer of the glorious line of the Mudds, the middle son of Tristifer the Hammer and the forty-third in line from Triston, three years before the last invasion of the people of the Andals into the River and the Hills, when the wolves of the North came down from the Neck and ravaged all the lands north of the Blue Fork…
The images of fierce fur-clad Northmen riding down the Neck on horses to claim the bounty of the Riverlands as Winter set in was shattered by the sound of a youngish girl's voice.
"Kinswoman! Aunt Laena has said she wishes to speak with you!" I resisted the urge to tell her to go away, and breathed in and out. I turned to face her, the youngest child and only daughter of Lord Crispian Celtigar and his Crabb wife. At eleven years of age, she had been born several months before my wedding to Aegon. Aerion had snorted when he mentioned the girl's name, and how Crispian had told him in a letter that she'd been named in honor of me… of Visenya.
Her long hair was the brown of her mother, but she had Crispian's eyes. Her red tunic went down to her knees, aside from the geometric designs at the hem, it was fairly plain in design compared with even the clothes of her parents. The tunic was held together at the waist with a belt of white leather, and her feet were covered with ashen-grey shoes.
"Tell my aunt that I will be there shortly, Viserra." I wanted to finish reading this section, after all. As well, the voices of children grated at me, and I needed time to calm myself.
She walked off without so much as asking to be dismissed, or thanking me. Thank fucking G-d.
My eyes just wandered over the text again and again. Glazing over. Seeing the words but not actually reading. All I could think of was that I had said I would be there soon. Even the seat became uncomfortable as I shifted in it.
As I remembered why I hated giving committal answers, I wanted to throw the book at the wall of the rooms I had been granted while I stayed at Claw Isle, and I calmed myself enough to avoid it and to leave the room in a facsimile of a good mood.
Far from being like Driftmark with its blue skies and bluer waters and white sands, Claw Isle was more akin to Dragonstone. Dreary at times, and fairly poor compared with the richer island. Though where Dragonstone had coves and darker sands, Claw Isle was more ordinary, and even lightly forested on the western end. Though with many cliffs.
The "Crab Keep" as some called the castle of the Celtigars, was not so rich as described later on. Part of me wondered if that was Ardrian's own wealth shrewdly built up, or if it happened at some point after the Conquest but before then. Did Claw Isle gain more sea traffic and trade as a result of the Conquest?
Still, the Valyrian style architecture was familiar to me, and felt closer to home than the Dun Fort or Dyre Den or Brownhollow ever could.
Finding a servant, I let myself be guided to my aunt who currently resided in the west tower of the castle. It was… a lot less populated than the main tower, and what few people were there tended to be women, though I honestly preferred the relative peace and quiet. Oddly, it was decorated more nicely than the main castle, and I wondered how much of it was my aunt's doing.
"You are late, niece." Were the first words I'd heard from Laena Velaryon in five years. She sounded strained, and tired as she spoke glancing out from the tower balcony.
"I did not expect to be summoned like some common servant, aunt. In fact, I had thought you might not wish to speak at all, given Daemon being here." Honestly, I felt tired just speaking with her.
"I liked your mother, niece. I do not love her brother." She beckoned me over to her side, and I stepped over to where she stood. Her long silvery hair in a single braid. A few strands of straw-yellow mixed in. Meeting her eyes, I saw she was pretty, though not a stunner like Rhaenys or myself. I could not help but notice the crow's feet and weary look to her that had not been there when last I saw her. As well, she was fairly short, or maybe average height for a woman. I felt like a gangly giant next to her as I placed my hands on the balustrade.
"Your husband, Lady Velaryon?" I said.
She snorted.
"In name only, now. The sooner he is gone from Claw Isle, the happier I will be. No doubt you understand." She said.
"Please explain, I do not understand. Is this about your husband?" The conversation made absolutely no sense to me thus far. Does she just want to complain about her husband to me? Daemon was infuriating, and I did not pretend that our alliance was anything but mutual convenience, and he was so self-assured that I hated it. But I could at least find some good parts about him, and I felt bad speaking ill of a man behind his back.
"As well as yours, Visenya." It clicked into place.
"This is about Aegon?" I glanced away. "Did Daemon tell you?"
"Every word that makes its way from Dragonstone to Claw Isle is more than enough, even as far back as when I still lived at Driftmark." I wracked my brain trying to remember when I said anything publicly negative about Aegon.
"Servants talk, niece." The words were casual, but with a bite to them.
"Uncle said something similar. That I am not very… skilled at concealing my feelings." I forced a laugh.
"A blind man could not fail to see them." She said, and I felt my cheeks burn.
"Why then, do you choose to do as he has commanded?" She asked, tilting her head to the side. The question stung. Because it is my best chance. I barely knew this woman, but the excuse to let out some of my thoughts and feelings was welcome.
"I could fly away on Vhagar, I suppose. But what then? The Free Cities slew their dragonlords in their beds, and killed their dragons." It may not have been the life I wanted, but it was my life now. I did not want to die before the age of thirty, my corpse thrown to wild dogs outside the walls of a city and Vhagar killed for no reason other than the fear of some upjumped wretches. My grip tightened on the stone balustrade at that thought.
"Stay at Dragonstone, or even here at Claw Isle. I am sure my brother would house you if you asked. At the least, I would allow you to stay here in my tower." I felt uncomfortable at how plainly this stranger was speaking with me. Or, rather, near stranger. What does she want?
"You are being very generous, aunt Laena." I kept myself from just walking off, I did not want to be too rude. She was Vaeron's aunt too after all. What if she's just saying what I want to hear?
"Your mother was dear to me, and I would be remiss if I did not at least offer my aid." She said.
"Still, I think I will take my chances. If I just sit around, I will miss every chance to gain something from this… vanity of Aegon's." Admitting that made me feel like scum. Taking advantage of this conflict to gain power for myself. People would fight and die in my name just so I could maybe be less miserable in the future. At the same time, it felt right. I deserved to be happy, didn't I? I wasn't hurting people, and unlike Aegon I had a reason for what I did other than sheer ego.
"Tell me more about Valaena." I did not want to call her 'mother'. Because it felt almost like theft. Valaena had been the real Visenya's mother. Even if I had her feelings now, and her memories. Yet I wanted to know more. I needed it, to know more about a mother that I had little but positive memories of.
Part of me was disgusted at it, at clinging to memories of a mother that had actually loved me. In one thought you mourn your father that you rarely visited, and in the next you spit on the woman that gave you life. I shoved the feelings away.
Laena pursed her lips, and then smiled. "When I was four-and-ten and she three-and-ten, my father took me to Driftmark to visit with the man… boy at the time, that I had been promised to. Your grandfather brought your uncle and mother out to meet us, and I saw them for the first time. Your uncle was already much taller than Lord Laenor, and Valaena already was near his height. By six-and-ten she would be as tall as her mother. She was striking. Your grandfather paraded her about, bragging about how she was to be wed to the future Archon of Dragonstone and that through his children the Narrow Sea would be bound to House Velaryon by blood," Laena paused, "Your mother interrupted him, and said that all her father had done was ensure he and her brother would have to obey her and that she'd come back from Dragonstone riding her own dragon one day."
That surprised me. "A dragon? Did she really think… Daemion or even my father would allow it?" Spouses were spouses, after all, and allowing dragons to get out of the family's control would have been stupid.
"Your grandfather thought himself near to a dragonlord as could be, with his Targaryen wife. Mayhap he planted the seed of that desire. As well, to a girl of three-and-ten everything is possible." She smiled. At three-and-t.. Thirteen, Visenya thought her marriage to Aegon would actually be good.
"I can see it." I said. "Valaena was a proud woman, but I had no idea she had wanted a dragon for her own." A part of me wanted to say that she did end up riding a dragon, but I was in no mood to be crass with someone I barely knew.
"Why did you send Viserra to fetch me?" I asked, wanting to change the subject.
"She was here, and you were not." Laena gave me a cheeky grin, for a moment it seemed like the weariness dropped from her. "I find that these days I miss family dearly. I last saw Corlys eight moons ago."
"I could visit you more." I said, feeling more than a little uncomfortable, "After Aegon's war is over, mayhap. Vhagar makes that easy enough." Calling it Aegon's war felt better.
"Mayhap." She said.
After a time of silence, as I made to leave she touched my shoulder. I barely kept myself from tensing up at that, and turned back to face her.
"You look like her, you know." Laena said, simply.
"Like…" I realized she probably did not mean Viserra. "Valaena? Daemon said that too."
She smiled wryly. "Of course he did." I wanted to kick myself for bringing him up like this. I wanted to hit myself for enjoying what I assumed was a compliment. Visenya had loved her mother dearly.
I left with little more than a few half-spoken goodbyes, hoping to be able to focus on my book when I got back to it. I had to leave anyway, and I refused to bring it where it might become damaged, it was not my property after all even if Crispian Celtigar would give me the rings off his own fingers if it meant gaining favor with my family.
My family. G-d, they really are, at this point.
I still hated to admit it.
----
Looking out from the battlements of the Celtigars' keep, the wind today particularly unfortunate as it whipped my braid about, and I hoped I wasn't looking too undignified when it slapped my cheek.
Both the late-morning sun and the place where I stood gave me a good view of the men who had arrived. The men who I had delayed our departure to the Vale by three days to wait for.
The horsemen of the Clawmen were not particularly impressive. They were without barding, and save for the lords with their household retinues the men were not particularly well-armored either. But they were here, and that was what mattered.
Iron caps and good mail they wore, and even the least armored still had some. Sturdy shields and keen lances and axes. From the bear paw of Brownhollow to the piled heads of Crabb and the two men bearing axe and hammer of Dyre Den, and a dozen other banners all carried by lords and knights of the central and eastern Crackclaw. Houses I had promised rewards, and others who only followed their lords. And the freeriders with them who just want the chance to loot. I wanted to turn those last away, but every sword mattered and I could not be picky yet.
Maybe once things had settled, and I had a better position to bargain from. Fear of dragonflame would have to serve to keep them behaving, and if any raping happened I'd just have them strung up.
Part of me hoped Rhaenys was doing something similar with her own soldiers. Another part knew she would not bother so long as they did as they were told, and didn't do anything in front of her. Or worse, it was not as though she had any qualms burning castles after all.
I adjusted my cloak and fidgeted with my armor and gloves as I made my way to the assembled group, flanked by guards and swords sworn to the Targaryens. Men that were a mix of those I had seen since early childhood and others who were only recently recruited into our service.
What I would not have done to have Vaeron and Quenton beside me. But they were with Aegon, and I had to do without.
It felt like moments later when I arrived, though it had to have been closer to ten minutes, and the lords who were before the gates of the Crab Keep seemed a lot taller in person, when they were ahorse and I on foot.
Were we all on the ground I would tower over the lot of you.
And so the business of telling which men were going onto what ships began, and it was more a bargaining process than anything, with some thinking I was trying to divide them into mixed and smaller groups for some nefarious purpose.
As if there was anything nefarious about not wanting to risk these men deciding to steal ships if they weren't kept properly mixed.
"Does it matter? You will have your lands, and all I want is to ensure some of the less savory freeriders don't try to convince your newer household men to make any hasty decisions." I would have felt bad soothing egos by blaming common men, but I was beyond done dealing with the argumentative nature of the Clawmen.
"As well, if you want to leave you can. But that just means more rewards to go to the men that go with us, and you will forfeit any reward you have been promised. After all, the lands were for men who would fight for me, not children who leave at the touch of the gentlest breeze." I got grumbling for that, but most of them stayed and let themselves be led to the ships, and by noon we were ready to go.
With the northeasterly winds we set sail for Gulltown, seven-thousand men strong.
"I am your Queen, Lord Velaryon," though he meant no harm, it was not his place to ask, I had called this meeting of what few lords and lordlings Aegon had sent with me to tell them what would be done. Not to be prodded and asked needless questions. "We will meet again in three days hence, at Claw Isle. Be ready for my arrival, and be prepared to provide extra provisions shortly after."
Daemon bowed his head, "As you will, Your Grace," He smiled, "How many extra mouths must I be prepared for? A thousand? Two?" His tone was respectful, calm and even. But still it made me bristle. The man's smile did not touch his eyes. He is not your friend.
"Two-thousand, I suppose. I should like to bring as many men as possible, but we must also do this with haste so I will not wait for the farthest from Claw Isle to arrive." We needed more men for the Vale. Visenya took the Eyrie with but a single child on her lap. That little voice stabbed at me again.
"You are certain they will follow you, Your Grace?" The voice of Triston Massey made me feel a flash of annoyance. I breathed slightly, in and out, and barely kept my hand from my braid. Massey's fingers stroked the ends of his long honey-blond mustache. His brown eyes looked into my purple, and I fought the urge to look away. Queens do not show weakness. I only wished eye contact were not so uncomfortable, though it had become less so of late.
"You had best pray to your gods that they do, Lord Massey. Elsewise we will be in the Vale for far longer." I needed men. The Clawmen became the most staunchly loyal to the Targaryens originally, and all that Visenya needed to do then was say they would kneel to none save the King of Westeros himself. What would it take to make them kneel to the Queen alone?
"You have my prayers, Great Queen," the boisterous voice of Aron Celtigar chimed in. Bootlicker. Aron was prettier than Vaeron, certainly. At twenty-one years of age, and another inch of height he was more filled out than his younger brother. His cap of red felt was circular, just like Vaeron's. His cloak was similar, though silver where Vaeron's trim was white, and his shoes not having the toes exposed. He'd not left me alone since he'd been assigned to me. Aegon had taken Vaeron with him across the Blackwater Rush. "With you in command, we are sure to win the Vale as swift as your dragon flies!"
I smiled at him, my purple eyes meeting his blue, "Would you like a glass of lemon juice, dear cousin?" I let a warmth slip into my voice that I normally reserved for Rhaenys.
"Of course, Your Grace! I shall gladly drink it, and to your health!" His expression had brightened noticeably at the word 'cousin', but he still looked confused overall. "B-but why are you offering such here?"
My lips curled upward slightly once more, "With all the boot licking you have been doing, I thought you would like to wash the taste from your mouth." I said, in as pleased a voice as any Visenya had ever used.
His face reddened at that. I smirked. G-d, that felt good.
"Claw Isle. Three days. I shall see you then." I walked off, waving my hand dismissively as I did so, and let out a laugh as I made my way to Vhagar. For once, it was good to be Queen.
--------------------------------------------------
Crackclaw Point was lovely in a rustic sort of way, I supposed. Densely forested and dotted with villages and small towns along the coasts. I knew it was filled with valleys further inland, and those valleys had their own lords and customs. It was wilder than the lands near Duskendale and even Massey's Hook. Vaeron had told me that the Clawmen liked to boast that their harder lands made for harder men, and that was what let the Clawmen throw off the first Andal invaders and the Darklyn kings as well.
The lands were hilly, and from the skies I could just about make out some of the bogs and marshes of the land. Some forts, and even old castles long abandoned or left to ruin.
More likely is that poor lands make for more desperate men. I was counting on that.
I knew not why I had ever feared the skies as I had before. To see the world from dragonback only made me more aware of its beauty, and in some way I felt it let me understand it better. The original Visenya had not experienced the kind of joy I had, I knew that now. Not when riding Vhagar at least. The feeling of absolute freedom and liberation, the desire to break free of the world's bounds. Keep to the coast.
The lands spread out beneath me like the maps I had pored over a hundred times. Like Aegon's painted table back at Dragonstone. Do not mess this up. The wind blowing through my hair felt brisk, and though on Vhagar's back I covered leagues in record time I yearned for the world to slow down. To be able to see the farmlands stretch by a bit less quickly, to perhaps know the names of the fishing villages I passed between towns that were actually on maps we owned.
I wondered if the patience for such tedious travel had come from Visenya or if I had simply adjusted to my life's new pace. I wanted to go everywhere. To see the Wall, and visit the Arbor again. I wanted to fly around Driftmark and Dragonstone with Rhaenys and her Meraxes. Lord Redwyne would as soon slay me as host me now, and we will be gone from Dragonstone until Aegon's vanity is achieved. I hoped when we returned I might move my chambers to the Sea-Dragon Tower.
Looking down, I knew we were not far, and in a short time I had taken Vhagar to the grassy, lightly wooded hills and a stout castle overlooking the Bay of Crabs. The world below was illuminated by the mid-day sun. We had passed low enough to see farmers in their fields and men traveling on trodden dirt paths and even a group of armored men in multi-colored cloaks surrounding some few men traveling westward, carrying a banner with some multi-colored sigil on it I could not make out from the distance.
The bags Vhagar had were large enough to carry banners, and I retrieved one. A banner of truce in the style of those used by the Westerosi. Albeit one hastily made, a banner flag of seven colors. As we made to land I raised aloft the banner of truce, and I told the men at the gates that I wished to speak with their lord. I was made to wait before the gates of Dyre Den.
As I looked upon the walls, I was reminded less of the fortress of the Dun Fort, nor even the smaller castles at Stokeworth and along the coast of the Blackwater but instead… Dyre Den was almost built partly into the hill. Certainly it was built upwards, but part of the land seemed like it had been leveled long ago by the hands of laborers. It had three small towers, all in decent repair, which I imagined I could handle with ease if things turned ugly. Vhagar's flame would melt them like wax. Sandstone formed an entire section of the outer wall. There were fewer men at the battlements than were at Stokeworth, and indeed the place overall just seemed… poorer. All the better.
I took a deep sniff, and the faint scent of pines filled my nostrils. A smile came to my lips, as for a moment I could almost hear the streams and the crackling of the fire in a childhood campground. The smell of crushed pine beneath hiking shoes. The taste of a marshmallow roasted over the fire, gooey and hot and sweet…
Then horns sounded, and drew me out of my reverie. One man was brought out, grey-haired save for a few reddish-brown bits that hadn't finished greying yet. He bore a peace banner as well, though he was followed by another man carrying a banner with the heraldry of the Brunes of Dyre Den.
"I would have thought a lord would at least come with a sworn sword or ten. Even a maester would be acceptable." I said, as I climbed down from Vhagar.
The man simply smiled ruefully, "Alas, my lady, my nephew is the lord here and not I. What is it that you want? For us to bend the knee to the knee to you? I w-" I cut him off. As if he were sat before the throne of Dragonstone, an audience of courtiers and lords sworn to Visenya's father in attendance rather than myself sitting atop Vhagar, the only audience this lord's uncle and what few men were on the battlements.
"I demand to speak with the Lord of Dyre Den. I have an offer for him." I felt a twinge of guilt at interrupting him, but I needed to do this now. I did not have time to play around. The lord's… uncle, frowned but then bowed his head.
"Of course, Lady Targaryen, I will tell him at once." They never have knelt to anyone bearing a crown, why should I get any more respect than that? I reminded myself as the twitch of bristling pride threatened to break out in some heated remark or another. I rested my hand against Vhagar while I waited, and counted the seconds. After the eight minute mark I started drumming my fingers against Vhagar's scales.
You can wait a few minutes. Just not hours. I calmed myself, a breath in and out all I needed while the lord of the keep was brought forth. A surprisingly stout man, not very tall, and fairly broad shouldered. He was maybe in his thirties. I did not care more than that. His clothing was less fine than that worn by even Vaeron's brothers. This is a lord?
At least his guard was more impressive than his uncle's. A dozen men, including his uncle from before, and two banner bearers and a horn sounder.
"Hail, Lady Targaryen. You stand before mine seat, held by my father before me and his before him. What business have you here?" His words were amused, though I caught his eyes as they kept glancing at Vhagar, the twitch of nervousness filled me with a small amount of happiness. Let him fear her.
"An offer for your ears alone, Lord Brune. One from a queen, no mere lady of a castle." I said as I resisted the urge to touch Dark Sister's hilt.
I did not expect laughter. My cheeks burned.
"A queen you may be, but not my own. We of Dyre Den and the Claw are free men, not dogs rolling over for whatever man with a crown comes begging our obedience." The words stung at something I'd always had, but until recently hadn't always enjoyed. Pride.
"I come not to beg, Lord Brune. I should like to speak with you in private. Ride with me for a time and I shall find us some clearing to discuss the finer points of my offer." I pointed at Vhagar as I said the words.
"My apologies, Lady Targaryen, but I will not ride with you on your beast. If you wish to speak with me alone, we shall do it in my keep with guardsmen outside the doors. Aye, I should like that far more." His tone was even.
I bit back harsher words. I did not need to make this more difficult, but I was still displeased.
"Alone in your keep? Surrounded by your guards?" At that, Elmar Brune glared.
"You come without warning, and you have the gall to insult my hospitality once I allow you within my home? Girl, were you my daughter I would tan your hide." The words were as heated as they were irreverent.
"Robert Darklyn had crossbowmen ready to loose their bolts at me under banner of truce. I know not how you Westerosi do things, so I am merely cautious." I said the words quickly and with a precision that I would have been shocked by normally. No stammering.
"Crispin Darklyn's boy? Tell it true, Lady Targaryen." He seemed eager, and so I climbed down from Vhagar, the chains at my feet undone. Offering my hand, and he clasped it with his own. I still did not like the feeling of skin touching.
"We will speak more inside, Lord Brune." I smiled, and he returned it, the previous accidental insult seemingly forgotten.
As we walked into the Dyre Den I could not help but compare it to the Dun Fort. Where the Dun Fort was clearly the seat of old kings and rich lords fat off the bounty of the Narrow Sea and blessed with fertile lands, the Dyre Den… was significantly plainer.
There were tapestries, well-made ones, but not the masterpieces at the Dun Fort. Sure, a few had some touches of the Narrow Sea style to them, but there was a distinctly alien feel that I could not recognize even from what time Aegon and I had spent at the Arbor or Lannisport. As if the men of the Claw were a breed apart, but enough was familiar that it seemed uncanny. Did they once have their own tongue? A part of me wondered. The common folk might have their own dialects, as far as I knew. I could not recall really speaking to many people not of some noble status or above the lower class outside of rare occasions at ports.
It was still the seat of a lord, though, so servants scurried about and men-at-arms went about their business and overall it just… felt normal. Whether Dragonstone, Driftmark, the Arbor, or anywhere else it seemed that seats of power had some commonality to them. Would what I have in mind truly be so different?
Every second I had to resist the urge to reach for Dark Sister's hilt or glance behind me. At every hallway and doorway I felt my heart race, half-terrified of men emerging from the shadows and gutting me. I had placed myself in his power, and was worried it might have been a mistake.
I crushed that feeling of paranoia with some effort.
At last we reached Lord Brune's solar, and I refused the offer of wine, as tempting as it was at the moment. I did not want to start drinking, and then to not stop until I could not even move from my seat. Rhaenys had told me a little of what had happened the last time after all.
Seated and with my back stiffly against a chair, I spoke first.
"I want you to kneel to me, when my family has conquered Westeros, there will be but one crown and one throne. Kneel to me, and you will be equal to houses like the Lannisters and Gardeners. Knowing no lord save for the King of All Westeros himself." I resisted the urge to drum my fingers.
"No kings? All I have to do is kneel, you say?" He stroked at his beard, and smiled.
"No king save for Aegon." I nodded slightly. The sooner I was done with this the better.
"I believe not. I pay no tribute nor taxes now, what you offer is the yoke of service. Is that all?" I had expected this. Harrenhal yet stood, unbroken by dragonfire. I refused to make an example of Duskendale either.
"Is that so, Lord Brune? Think of what you are rejecting." I did not want to waste what I had gained if it was unnecessary.
Elmar Brune swirled his wine around, relaxing in his chair as if this were a summer time meal date as opposed to negotiation over the future of his people.
Frowning, I continued, "When my brother comes with twenty-thousand men and a dragon as big as your castle, what then? He broke the back of Volantis, what resistance can you offer?" Aegon had burned the fleet at Lys and a single fort, then rode with the rest of the coalition until it was over.
"If you come we will hide where you shall not find us, as we always have against outsiders. Fire does not burn good strong earth, and we have our places you cannot touch us. Your lords will not want to waste years fighting us, and you will leave. The Andals did not conquer us, the Durrandons could not, and the Hoares never could try."
"Are threats and might be's all you have to offer, Lady Targaryen?" His tone had me half-wanting to string him up by a rope woven from his ugly beard.
"No, and in fact I have a better deal." I felt my heart racing. If this did not work, I still could go to the other men after all. But failure always hurt.
"What is this deal, Lady Targaryen?" His voice was a bit rumbly even when it was calm.
"Kneel to me, and your family will be given lands from the former holdings of the Darklyns. They've very little, after what I've taken. There is land enough for many second and third sons to prosper. Not vast holdings, but they are good ones regardless. My brother would expect you to kneel without so much as a crumb of spoils." I rubbed my finger and thumb together idly, it still felt odd to tower over most men, honestly. It would have been worse if we'd been standing, "I will reward you, so long as you serve me loyally."
"Why? What do you want?" He said. The previous calmness to his voice was gone, replaced with curiosity.
"I am going to the Vale, and I want more men. I could probably take it with the few thousands of foot I have, but more swords are always better. In fact, should any Valemen refuse to kneel, you and yours will be placed high to receive the lands taken from them. Join me, and you can gain much." I said.
He seemed to doze off slightly, in thought. Did I overplay my hand? Shit, did I fuck this up?
As if in response to my thoughts his gaze became clear and intense and he nodded his head with a smile.
"You have my swords, my Queen. I am your man, so long as you hold up your end of the bargain." He offered his hand and I grasped it firmly.
"I want you to call your banners, call for all your horsemen to go to Claw Isle. Crab Isle, I think your people call it. The fleet is there, and we'll be setting off for the Vale from there. Your footmen can march there as well, and they can be part of the second group. We want to do this quickly, and get a foothold before the Valemen can respond." I nodded to myself, "Now, I believe I told you I'd finish telling you about Darklyn?"
Elmar Brune laughed, and food was brought in by servants while we spoke. Some was familiar, and I found myself rather hungry. I could not remember enjoying cabbage before now anyway. I wound up being fairly picky, and ate just a couple of things.
So I was surprised to find the cabbage rolls stuffed with a crumbly cheese were… fairly good. Washed down with tea with a touch of brandy added, and I wondered how much liquor needed to be watered down in order to remain effective-ish, but not awful.
"The bastard tried to violate banner of truce, and was not man enough to fall on his own sword? I wish I had been there to see it, your brother sounds a man with a fine sense of humor. Leaving him alive with naught but a pittance to his name. It near as makes up for his father rejecting my offer to have my sister wed the spoiled lordling. Said she was a girl with no teats not worthy of the Dun Fort. Mayhap I shall unhorse Ser Robert at a tourney again."
The bearded lord laughed more, and regaled me with a story of a tourney at Rook's Rest eight years before. How he had brought down Darklyn in the lists.
"The Darklyns were becoming too big for their own good. Near enough acted as though they were our kings when the Hoares let the yoke fall from them, I will wager the only reason they had not taken up a crown again was fear of Black Harren. Now they are gone, and we men of the Claw still prosper!"
As nice as the meal and conversation was, I left Dyre Den a couple hours later. Sated and actually somewhat eager for my next stop on the way to Claw Isle.
From there I visited Brownhollow and Hunter's Den and Crabb Hill and so on, making the same offer to each lord in turn. Thankfully, most of them were more amenable than Elmar Brune had been, although they required other concessions. Dennis Crabb wanted his grandson to be made Aegon's page, Nestor Boggs wanted his second son to squire for my cousin and to be granted a place in my entourage, Dick Brune had tried to offer his niece's hand in marriage to my brother.
"Ask Dark Sister firstly." I had said to that. No girl deserved to be subjected to Aegon, after all, and if they thought I was being a faithful protective wife all the better. No doubt they thought I was a degenerate brother-fucking whore anyway. And what is wrong with brother wedding sister, anyway? A small part of me thought, and I wanted to strangle it.
And so on. It was a lot more back and forth than I had been expecting, but ultimately the trips had been a success.
--------------------------------------------------
In the last years of the reign of Tristifer of the glorious line of the Mudds, the middle son of Tristifer the Hammer and the forty-third in line from Triston, three years before the last invasion of the people of the Andals into the River and the Hills, when the wolves of the North came down from the Neck and ravaged all the lands north of the Blue Fork…
The images of fierce fur-clad Northmen riding down the Neck on horses to claim the bounty of the Riverlands as Winter set in was shattered by the sound of a youngish girl's voice.
"Kinswoman! Aunt Laena has said she wishes to speak with you!" I resisted the urge to tell her to go away, and breathed in and out. I turned to face her, the youngest child and only daughter of Lord Crispian Celtigar and his Crabb wife. At eleven years of age, she had been born several months before my wedding to Aegon. Aerion had snorted when he mentioned the girl's name, and how Crispian had told him in a letter that she'd been named in honor of me… of Visenya.
Her long hair was the brown of her mother, but she had Crispian's eyes. Her red tunic went down to her knees, aside from the geometric designs at the hem, it was fairly plain in design compared with even the clothes of her parents. The tunic was held together at the waist with a belt of white leather, and her feet were covered with ashen-grey shoes.
"Tell my aunt that I will be there shortly, Viserra." I wanted to finish reading this section, after all. As well, the voices of children grated at me, and I needed time to calm myself.
She walked off without so much as asking to be dismissed, or thanking me. Thank fucking G-d.
My eyes just wandered over the text again and again. Glazing over. Seeing the words but not actually reading. All I could think of was that I had said I would be there soon. Even the seat became uncomfortable as I shifted in it.
As I remembered why I hated giving committal answers, I wanted to throw the book at the wall of the rooms I had been granted while I stayed at Claw Isle, and I calmed myself enough to avoid it and to leave the room in a facsimile of a good mood.
Far from being like Driftmark with its blue skies and bluer waters and white sands, Claw Isle was more akin to Dragonstone. Dreary at times, and fairly poor compared with the richer island. Though where Dragonstone had coves and darker sands, Claw Isle was more ordinary, and even lightly forested on the western end. Though with many cliffs.
The "Crab Keep" as some called the castle of the Celtigars, was not so rich as described later on. Part of me wondered if that was Ardrian's own wealth shrewdly built up, or if it happened at some point after the Conquest but before then. Did Claw Isle gain more sea traffic and trade as a result of the Conquest?
Still, the Valyrian style architecture was familiar to me, and felt closer to home than the Dun Fort or Dyre Den or Brownhollow ever could.
Finding a servant, I let myself be guided to my aunt who currently resided in the west tower of the castle. It was… a lot less populated than the main tower, and what few people were there tended to be women, though I honestly preferred the relative peace and quiet. Oddly, it was decorated more nicely than the main castle, and I wondered how much of it was my aunt's doing.
"You are late, niece." Were the first words I'd heard from Laena Velaryon in five years. She sounded strained, and tired as she spoke glancing out from the tower balcony.
"I did not expect to be summoned like some common servant, aunt. In fact, I had thought you might not wish to speak at all, given Daemon being here." Honestly, I felt tired just speaking with her.
"I liked your mother, niece. I do not love her brother." She beckoned me over to her side, and I stepped over to where she stood. Her long silvery hair in a single braid. A few strands of straw-yellow mixed in. Meeting her eyes, I saw she was pretty, though not a stunner like Rhaenys or myself. I could not help but notice the crow's feet and weary look to her that had not been there when last I saw her. As well, she was fairly short, or maybe average height for a woman. I felt like a gangly giant next to her as I placed my hands on the balustrade.
"Your husband, Lady Velaryon?" I said.
She snorted.
"In name only, now. The sooner he is gone from Claw Isle, the happier I will be. No doubt you understand." She said.
"Please explain, I do not understand. Is this about your husband?" The conversation made absolutely no sense to me thus far. Does she just want to complain about her husband to me? Daemon was infuriating, and I did not pretend that our alliance was anything but mutual convenience, and he was so self-assured that I hated it. But I could at least find some good parts about him, and I felt bad speaking ill of a man behind his back.
"As well as yours, Visenya." It clicked into place.
"This is about Aegon?" I glanced away. "Did Daemon tell you?"
"Every word that makes its way from Dragonstone to Claw Isle is more than enough, even as far back as when I still lived at Driftmark." I wracked my brain trying to remember when I said anything publicly negative about Aegon.
"Servants talk, niece." The words were casual, but with a bite to them.
"Uncle said something similar. That I am not very… skilled at concealing my feelings." I forced a laugh.
"A blind man could not fail to see them." She said, and I felt my cheeks burn.
"Why then, do you choose to do as he has commanded?" She asked, tilting her head to the side. The question stung. Because it is my best chance. I barely knew this woman, but the excuse to let out some of my thoughts and feelings was welcome.
"I could fly away on Vhagar, I suppose. But what then? The Free Cities slew their dragonlords in their beds, and killed their dragons." It may not have been the life I wanted, but it was my life now. I did not want to die before the age of thirty, my corpse thrown to wild dogs outside the walls of a city and Vhagar killed for no reason other than the fear of some upjumped wretches. My grip tightened on the stone balustrade at that thought.
"Stay at Dragonstone, or even here at Claw Isle. I am sure my brother would house you if you asked. At the least, I would allow you to stay here in my tower." I felt uncomfortable at how plainly this stranger was speaking with me. Or, rather, near stranger. What does she want?
"You are being very generous, aunt Laena." I kept myself from just walking off, I did not want to be too rude. She was Vaeron's aunt too after all. What if she's just saying what I want to hear?
"Your mother was dear to me, and I would be remiss if I did not at least offer my aid." She said.
"Still, I think I will take my chances. If I just sit around, I will miss every chance to gain something from this… vanity of Aegon's." Admitting that made me feel like scum. Taking advantage of this conflict to gain power for myself. People would fight and die in my name just so I could maybe be less miserable in the future. At the same time, it felt right. I deserved to be happy, didn't I? I wasn't hurting people, and unlike Aegon I had a reason for what I did other than sheer ego.
"Tell me more about Valaena." I did not want to call her 'mother'. Because it felt almost like theft. Valaena had been the real Visenya's mother. Even if I had her feelings now, and her memories. Yet I wanted to know more. I needed it, to know more about a mother that I had little but positive memories of.
Part of me was disgusted at it, at clinging to memories of a mother that had actually loved me. In one thought you mourn your father that you rarely visited, and in the next you spit on the woman that gave you life. I shoved the feelings away.
Laena pursed her lips, and then smiled. "When I was four-and-ten and she three-and-ten, my father took me to Driftmark to visit with the man… boy at the time, that I had been promised to. Your grandfather brought your uncle and mother out to meet us, and I saw them for the first time. Your uncle was already much taller than Lord Laenor, and Valaena already was near his height. By six-and-ten she would be as tall as her mother. She was striking. Your grandfather paraded her about, bragging about how she was to be wed to the future Archon of Dragonstone and that through his children the Narrow Sea would be bound to House Velaryon by blood," Laena paused, "Your mother interrupted him, and said that all her father had done was ensure he and her brother would have to obey her and that she'd come back from Dragonstone riding her own dragon one day."
That surprised me. "A dragon? Did she really think… Daemion or even my father would allow it?" Spouses were spouses, after all, and allowing dragons to get out of the family's control would have been stupid.
"Your grandfather thought himself near to a dragonlord as could be, with his Targaryen wife. Mayhap he planted the seed of that desire. As well, to a girl of three-and-ten everything is possible." She smiled. At three-and-t.. Thirteen, Visenya thought her marriage to Aegon would actually be good.
"I can see it." I said. "Valaena was a proud woman, but I had no idea she had wanted a dragon for her own." A part of me wanted to say that she did end up riding a dragon, but I was in no mood to be crass with someone I barely knew.
"Why did you send Viserra to fetch me?" I asked, wanting to change the subject.
"She was here, and you were not." Laena gave me a cheeky grin, for a moment it seemed like the weariness dropped from her. "I find that these days I miss family dearly. I last saw Corlys eight moons ago."
"I could visit you more." I said, feeling more than a little uncomfortable, "After Aegon's war is over, mayhap. Vhagar makes that easy enough." Calling it Aegon's war felt better.
"Mayhap." She said.
After a time of silence, as I made to leave she touched my shoulder. I barely kept myself from tensing up at that, and turned back to face her.
"You look like her, you know." Laena said, simply.
"Like…" I realized she probably did not mean Viserra. "Valaena? Daemon said that too."
She smiled wryly. "Of course he did." I wanted to kick myself for bringing him up like this. I wanted to hit myself for enjoying what I assumed was a compliment. Visenya had loved her mother dearly.
I left with little more than a few half-spoken goodbyes, hoping to be able to focus on my book when I got back to it. I had to leave anyway, and I refused to bring it where it might become damaged, it was not my property after all even if Crispian Celtigar would give me the rings off his own fingers if it meant gaining favor with my family.
My family. G-d, they really are, at this point.
I still hated to admit it.
----
Looking out from the battlements of the Celtigars' keep, the wind today particularly unfortunate as it whipped my braid about, and I hoped I wasn't looking too undignified when it slapped my cheek.
Both the late-morning sun and the place where I stood gave me a good view of the men who had arrived. The men who I had delayed our departure to the Vale by three days to wait for.
The horsemen of the Clawmen were not particularly impressive. They were without barding, and save for the lords with their household retinues the men were not particularly well-armored either. But they were here, and that was what mattered.
Iron caps and good mail they wore, and even the least armored still had some. Sturdy shields and keen lances and axes. From the bear paw of Brownhollow to the piled heads of Crabb and the two men bearing axe and hammer of Dyre Den, and a dozen other banners all carried by lords and knights of the central and eastern Crackclaw. Houses I had promised rewards, and others who only followed their lords. And the freeriders with them who just want the chance to loot. I wanted to turn those last away, but every sword mattered and I could not be picky yet.
Maybe once things had settled, and I had a better position to bargain from. Fear of dragonflame would have to serve to keep them behaving, and if any raping happened I'd just have them strung up.
Part of me hoped Rhaenys was doing something similar with her own soldiers. Another part knew she would not bother so long as they did as they were told, and didn't do anything in front of her. Or worse, it was not as though she had any qualms burning castles after all.
I adjusted my cloak and fidgeted with my armor and gloves as I made my way to the assembled group, flanked by guards and swords sworn to the Targaryens. Men that were a mix of those I had seen since early childhood and others who were only recently recruited into our service.
What I would not have done to have Vaeron and Quenton beside me. But they were with Aegon, and I had to do without.
It felt like moments later when I arrived, though it had to have been closer to ten minutes, and the lords who were before the gates of the Crab Keep seemed a lot taller in person, when they were ahorse and I on foot.
Were we all on the ground I would tower over the lot of you.
And so the business of telling which men were going onto what ships began, and it was more a bargaining process than anything, with some thinking I was trying to divide them into mixed and smaller groups for some nefarious purpose.
As if there was anything nefarious about not wanting to risk these men deciding to steal ships if they weren't kept properly mixed.
"Does it matter? You will have your lands, and all I want is to ensure some of the less savory freeriders don't try to convince your newer household men to make any hasty decisions." I would have felt bad soothing egos by blaming common men, but I was beyond done dealing with the argumentative nature of the Clawmen.
"As well, if you want to leave you can. But that just means more rewards to go to the men that go with us, and you will forfeit any reward you have been promised. After all, the lands were for men who would fight for me, not children who leave at the touch of the gentlest breeze." I got grumbling for that, but most of them stayed and let themselves be led to the ships, and by noon we were ready to go.
With the northeasterly winds we set sail for Gulltown, seven-thousand men strong.
As I said elsewhere
So if you have any lore questions, any behind the scenes questions, questions about the fic in general, me as a writer, etc... Now's the time to ask.
So if you have any lore questions, any behind the scenes questions, questions about the fic in general, me as a writer, etc... Now's the time to ask.