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The Dragons Realm: A House Targaryen Story (ASOIAF/GOT)

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Chapter 15: Dragon Dreams (Aegon, Nyel, Matarys)
  • Threadmarks
    • Sixth Moon, 8013
    Pirate Fortress of Sunstone, the Narrow Sea


    Aegon sat atop the back of Balerion, a cool breeze hitting his face as he surveyed the force arrayed in front of him.

    The Lyseni pirate had nearly 40 galleys in front of the rocky Island of Sunstone, fully manned, the tips of steel spears glinting in the sun and even visible from Dragonback.

    The force sailing against them was much smaller, the Targaryen fleet only numbering 16 galleys, their black and red banners fluttering in the wind. Aegon had not yet appointed a master of ships so Corlys Velaryon led the small fleet with some 1600 men from Dragonstone, a task he was more than capable of due to his Velaryon heritage.

    The King's conquest of the Seven Kingdoms had ended, but Aegon still had ambitions for further expansion, but he quickly found such a thing was easier said than done. In order to expand, he needed his master of laws Edmyn Tully to fabricate a claim on any land he wished to take, convincing his vassals of the worthiness of the campaign, it had taken many years but at long last Edmyn had fabricated a claim on the island of Sunstone.



    The Stepstones were a collection of 9 islands in the Narrow Sea, separating the coast of the Stormlands and Dorne from Essos. The islands were not controlled by any of the free cities however and sheltered independent pirate lords who preyed on shipping across the Narrow Sea.





    Aegon had long eyed the islands as a place of potential expansion, not only would the conquest of an island give Westeros a foothold in the narrow sea, but he also had to think of the future. His son Vaemond would hold Dragonstone upon his 16th nameday, but it would not be long before his second son Matarys was of age. He had not seen his son in many years, but he hoped that the time spent under Nestor Royces tutelage had toughened the boy up. One island was no fit inheritance for his second son but it was a start, in time perhaps he could set up his son as Lord Paramount of the Stepstones.


    Before he could do any of that however, the pirates first needed to be destroyed. The lysene pirate lord Mero was not alone, when news had reached the Stepstones that the Dragonlord planned to attack, they had formed a coalition, with over 4000 pirates assembled to defend Sunstone with more on the way.



    The King had taken Balerion high into the sky, where he doubted even the Pirates could see him, the plan was that the Pirates would see the small targaryen fleet which they outnumbered over two to one and leave the shelter of their rocky coves to open sea.

    The pirates did just that, with the King hearing the faint sound of trumpets signaling the pirate fleet forward to attack the Targaryens.

    Aegon planned to use a similar tactic as he had in the courtyard of Yronwood, diving straight down with the sun at his back, obscuring the defender's vision.

    He waited until the ships were directly under him and urged Balerion downwards, the sounds of fighting evident below as the pirates and the men of Dragonstone began boarding one another.

    Aegon spotted his first target and hurtled downwards. Balerions wing encased the ship in shadow, causing the unfortunate sailors on the boat to look up in horror as the black dread descended upon them, bathing the wooden ship in flames. Pirates screamed in pain as they shared in the flames, many jumping into the narrow sea in a futile attempt to put out the flames.

    The pirates of the Stepstones were many things, but brave was not one of them. Immediately after seeing Balerion appear from the sky, the ships began to flee in all directions, some back to Sunstone and others fleeing to other nearby hideouts.

    Aegon took two more ships before turning his attention to the island, leaving the wooden carcasses to slowly sink into the narrow sea, their crew along with them. The surviving Targaryen ships followed Aegon towards shore, though their work for the day was done.

    The King flew towards the keep of sunstone, a small squat keep of stone with wooden towers, he had sworn to never again subject the castles of his people to Dragonfire after the tragedy of Yronwood,however this pledge did not apply to Pirates, the castle was largely deserted when Aegon bathed it in flame, killing the few that did oppose him and burning much of the keep. He was aware it was rather unnecessary and it would take years to repair, making for a poor inheritance for Matarys but he needed to teach the pirates a lesson and there were other islands he could gift his son.

    By the end of it 7 pirate galleys lay at the bottom of the narrow sea, along with over 600 men, a further 100 pirates burnt in the castle. The victory had not been bloodless however, the pirates had managed to sink 4 of the 16 Targaryen ships, though luckily Corlys and his Kingsguard were unharmed, though the same could not be said for near 400 Dragonstone men, who had been killed, heavily wounded, or went missing under the waves.

    Nonetheless, Sunstone had fallen, and King Aegon had his foothold in the narrow sea, securing an important strategic position.




    First Moon, 8014
    Nyels Chambers, The Aegonfort

    Stinging droplets of rain assaulted Nyels eyes, like shards of ice, she tried to cover her eyes but it was useless, the rain was unending.

    She rubbed her eyes, holding her hands above her head and winning her some respite but even with the rain clear from her eyes she could barely see, the air was pitch black.

    All around her the air shrieked a ghostly howl. She heard voices , shouts and yells but could not hear the words over the wind. The voices seemed close yet far away at the same time, echoing wordless cries.

    Suddenly she was in the air and saw nothing but dark below, a lion, fat with a matted yellow mane stood, mouth agape, descending into the darkness, the stench of death filling Nyels nose and mouth.

    She heard it before she saw it, an unhuman roar as a massive black shape hurtled down into the dark, towards her, eyes red as flames.

    Dread She thought, the words entering her mind unbidden, as the dark shape approached fast, wind and rain clamoring on its side, she could scare stand the sound anymore and put her hands over her ears, crying for it to stop.

    Nyel awoke in a cold sweat, frantically looking around her bedchamber, but there was no dark shape or howling winds….just the silence of the night.


    Matarys Chamber, The Eyrie

    The sound was the first thing he noticed, sharp and rhythmic like metal on a whetstone, softly at first then louder, till the sound filled his mind clamoring like a beating drum.

    He saw the glimmer of a sword in the distance slowly fading until it was no more.

    Matarys fumbled through the darkness unable to see anything, the world around him rocking, his balance unsteady.

    Shards of wood flew about him, cutting his arms and legs, stumbling as he made his way forward in the oily black of night.

    He heard and felt it before he saw it, a great burst of wind and the heavy crack of wings, a roar filling the air, a dark shape in the air, but no matter how hard he looked he could not see it.

    Suddenly out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of white, smooth as snow and pale as the moon, rolling away from him

    It was his Dragon Egg, disappearing into the darkness, a moon in a sea of black.

    He chased after it and suddenly he was falling, a crescent moon in the sky growing farther and farther away.

    He looked up and saw with terror the huge dark shape was following him down into the darkness, dark red eyes fixed on him, he screamed but no words came out and he felt the air leaving his body, his lungs close to bursting.

    He saw his egg and with the last of his strength reached towards it, but the moment he touched it long cracks appeared, slowly overtaking its smooth surface until a deafening crash destroyed it.

    Matarys woke up with a shout……and was greeted with the sight of a dragon on his chest, eyes of blue ice staring into his, the remains of the dragon egg scattered at his bedside.

    It was small, only about the size of his old cat Ser Whiskers, but it was white as fresh fallen snow, its scales thin as ringmail. He had seen his parents' dragons as well as the bronze dragon of his aunt Rhaenys, but this dragon was the most majestic thing he had ever seen, cat sized or no.

    His heart still pounding from his dream, he reached out a chubby hand towards the dragon.

    Moondancer He thought, the image of the moon in his dream burned into his mind, the Dragon recoiled at his touch however and flew to the other end of the room, hissing.



    Matarys supposed he should be happy, his dragon egg had hatched, he had even seen it in his dreams, but he had a feeling in the pit of his stomach that the hatching of his dragon had not explained what he had seen, no matter how hard he tried to put the dream from his mind he could not escape the images, the moon fading into black, the dark shape, the sound of a sword being sharpened, Matarys did not know what to make of it, but he was sure it was nothing good.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • World Map Update: Braavos, Norvos, The Stepstones
  • Threadmarks
    • The Free City of Braavos
    The Free City of Braavos, sometimes called Braavos of the Hundred Isles, is the wealthiest and most powerful of the nine free cities. The city is built in a large lagoon where the shivering and narrow seas meet, the city's architecture built on well over a hundred islands, connected by canals, bridges and narrow alleyways. Braavos is most known for the Titan of Braavos, a giant statue at the lagoons entrance, the Iron Bank, the richest bank in the world as well as its famed bravos and ''water dancers'' who fight with thin but deadly blades. The city's location means it is constantly in need of timber which it imports in huge quantities, and its main trade goods include fish and its famous dyes. Braavos also boasts temples to half a hundred gods, numerous ports and is famed for its courtesans. The Free City of Braavos is one of the most vehement opponents of the practice of slavery, and have routinely gone to war with their neighbors, most notably Pentos to oppose the practice. The ruler of the city is known as the Sealord of Braavos. Unlike the other Free Cities, Braavos was never apart of the Valyrian Freehold and was founded by escaped slaves, hence its hatred of the practice.Braavos baosts one of the largest fleets in the known world and their dockyards are said to be able to produce a warship in a day, though this fleet comes at the cost of constantly importing timber. At the time of our story, Braavos has just established a trading post in the fledgling capital city of King's Landing.






    𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐂𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐍𝐨𝐫𝐯𝐨𝐬

    The Free City of Norvos is one of the stranger of the free cities, given that it is an inland city and is ruled by a Theocracy. The free city has a Magister though in truth they are little more than a puppet to the Bearded Priests, the true power in the city. These priests are highly secretive and are the only individuals in the city that can wear beards, while most Norvoshi women shave their heads. The Bearded Priests are famed for their prowess with long axes, with many of them marrying their blades in a ceremony to show their dedication to the city. The most well known aspect of Norvoshi culture are the 3 bells, Noom, Narrah, and Nyel, which each instruct the citizens of Norvos when the correct time to undergo certain activities and actions. The Free City of Norvos are rivals of nearby Qohor, who they consider to be demon worshipers. The City Proper is split into two main areas, with the nobility and bearded priests making their home in the upper city, while the majority of citizens live down below, surrounded by a timber pallisade and large oak and pine forests.




    The Stepstones



    The island chain of the Stepstones is a lawless region, with 9 major islands each with their own pirate lord, using the rocky islands as hideouts and bases from which to attack trading ships passing through the region. From time to time the Free Cities send sellswords to attempt to clear out the pirate layers, but these men are often more likely to join the pirates then destroy them, and on the rare occasions an island is cleared of pirates….they always seem to return. Rocky and poor, these islands offer little wealth on their own, but their position at the crossroads of Essos and Westeros give them strategic value to any that would control them.
     
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    • Chapter 16: The Winds of Fair Isle (Nyel, Matarys, Vaemond, Aegon) (Part 1)
  • Threadmarks
    • 8th Moon, 8014
    Courtyard of the Aegonfort


    Nyel made her way through the courtyard, which was buzzing with activity. Knights and squires prepared horses for the coming journey while stewards loaded wagons with provisions.

    She wore her hair in two braids like her mother was like to do and dressed in her finest raiment to attend court that morning, despite the effort she made in looking presentable she was tired…she had had the dream again, the same one with the dark shape and stinging rain she had every few months for the past year, she had never told anyone about it, but she planned to change that today.




    Narrah stalked behind her, the Dragon was only the size of a small dog, around three feet and unable to fly for long but growing every year, its red scales glinted in the sunlight as knights and retainers gave it curious glances.

    Nyel had wanted to speak with her father all morning about her dream, but he had been busy, as today was the day he was leaving on his second royal progress.

    He had held a quick court that morning, giving his council instructions to send declarations to every corner of the realm that the tradition of the first night was hereby abolished by royal decree, something her aunt Rhaenys had petitioned her father to change before he left on his progress. There had been other minor affairs handled following this, some Stormlander lord had been made to take the black by her father as punishment for murdering a neighboring noble, immeadiatly following court however, her lord father had dissapeared, leaving her no chance to talk, he was due to leave within the hour however and it was now or never.

    She finally found him at the gate, her brother Vaemond and all the knights of the Kingsguard at his side, save for Ser Gawen Corbray and Ser Harold Langward who were remaining in the capitol to guard Nyel, her mother and aunt.

    ''Your Grace.'' Nyel said formally, bowing her head.

    Her father smiled, he looked magnificent in heavy boiled black armor with encrusted rubies and silver stones in the shape of a dragon, with a heavy black silk cloak.

    ''Nyel….I was wondering where you had gone…..I was just going to have someone find you….we leave within the hour.'' her father said dismounting.

    ''I wanted a word with you alone for a moment.'' Nyel said and her father nodded, placing a hand on her shoulder and leading her to a corner of the courtyard that was not so busy.

    Nyel then explained her dream that she had experienced several times in the past year, the stinging rain, the yells, the fat lion with the matted mane and the dark shape, hurtling down into the darkness.

    By the end of it her father was frowning, a ponderous look upon his face.

    ''I was thinking I might have the Dragonsight….like Daenys the Dreamer…our ancestor.'' Nyel said, referring to an ancestor that had dreams and premonitions of the doom of Valyria, causing the Targaryen family to leave Valyria before the doom, escaping the destruction.

    ''There are no lions left in Westeros…..and it may be these are just dreams Nyel….I too heard the story of Daenys the dreamer as a child and I will not tell you it is untrue….but the fact is many old tales are based on both truth and myth.'' Her father said, ever cynical.

    ''Perhaps.'' Nyel said, unconvinced.

    ''If these dreams still trouble you I will have a sorcerer from the east sent from upon my return….I don't put much stock in their ilk but if it comforts you…..'' Her father said doubtfully.

    ''Thank you father.'' Nyel said, she had not expected much of a reaction from her father but she appreciated that he had least humored her.

    Aegon embraced his daughter before pulling away ''The next time I see you, you will be a grown woman….I was thinking of staging a tourney to mark your name day.''

    ''That would be wonderful, Nothing big…perhaps just the knights of the Kingsguard…a few others.'' Nyel said happily, her dreams quickly forgotten.

    Her father nodded ''I'm sure your brother will be wishing to participate as well…speaking of which you should see him off, we will be gone at least half a year.''

    Nyel nodded ''Give Matarys our greetings…tell him I still have old Ser Whiskers.''

    Her father grunted ''I'd forgotten about that damn cat….if Lord Royce has done his job your brother will be beyond such things.''

    ''But you will tell him?'' Nyel prodded.

    Her father sighed and shook his head ''Very well…..I shall inform him that Whiskers is alive and well.

    ''Ser Whiskers father.'' Nyel corrected him.

    The King chuckled at that and mounted his horse, smiling at Nyel before disappearing into the crowd.

    Nyel found her brother Vaemond and made her farewells. She found herself noticing how much he looked like their father. He was tall for his 13 years, standing just as tall as the Kingsguard around him, and had their fathers broad shoulders, though his face was gentler and less stern.

    ''When I return….we should spend more time together.'' Her brother said bluntly as was his manner. They were not particularly close, and Nyel had noticed that her brother often seemed uncomfortable around her, most likely due to him learning recently what was expected of him to keep the bloodline pure and produce an heir, something Nyel had known for years.

    Nyel smiled ''That would be nice….give Matarys my love…tell him our mother eagerly awaits his return.'' Their mother Visenya had wanted to accompany the royal progress but the King had named her regent to rule in his stead while he was away.

    Vaemond nodded ''Father seems to think that the time in the Eyrie under Lord Royce will have changed him but……I have my doubts….we spent more time with him than father did, I think it's just who he is.''

    Nyel nodded, in truth she too had a hard time picturing their kindhearted little brother, who had preferred playing with kittens and eating apple cakes to any kind of martial activities as a formidable warrior.

    Before anymore words could be said, a shout from the front of the column signaled that it was time to go.

    Vaemond nodded at his sister and rode to rejoin his father.

    The Targaryen retinue consisting of near 100 knights and twice as many squires, stewards, and other minor nobility began their procession through the streets of Kings Landing, from there they would head north to the Vale of Arryn, riding through the Bloody Gate and from there the Eyrie.







    10th Moon, 8015
    The Eyrie






    Matarys made his way down the stone spiral steps of his bedchamber down to the main hall, breathing heavily as he made his way down the steep staircase.

    Nervous excitement coursed through his body as he made his way down, he was finally going to see father and Vae again, though he knew his mother was not coming. In truth it was only that excitement that kept him awake.

    Sleep did not come easily to Matarys, he was oft tormented by dreams, nightmares of childhood bullies like Dalton Wynch or a recurring dream of darkness and terror, the sound of a sword being sharpened and great wings beating in the air. He never put much stock in it however, dreams were just dreams according to the castle Maester.

    Furthermore, Lord Royces insistence that he train at arms stressed him out to no end, he didn't think he could ever use a sword to hurt someone but when he had explained this to Lord Royce, the man had explained, not unkindly, that he would need to learn to defend himself.

    He liked Lord Royce, he was a kind man that kept a fine table, and while Matarys loathed the days when he had to train in the yard, he enjoyed the man's tales of chivalry, honor, and duty, and the tenants of what made a good knight.

    ''Done the best I can….'' He overheard as he approached the main hall.

    He peered out into the hallway and saw his father nodding, talking with Lord Royce.

    'Father!'' Matarys cried out, running as fast as his chubby legs allowed, embracing his surprised father with a hug.

    His father reciprocated before gently pushing him away.

    ''How is Ser Whiskers?'' Matarys questioned him immediately, he had been anxiously awaiting an update on his childhood friend.

    His father seemed to be disappointed for some reason, and Matarys feared he was about to receive some bad news.

    Instead his father had given a thin smile, though his eyes still seemed troubled ''Your cat is fine Matarys….Nyel watches him.''

    He heard a bit of muffled laughter and turned, his veins turning to ice…..at the back of the hall was Dalton Wynch, the same cruel green eyes and long orange hair, though he wore the beginings of a scraggly beard now.



    The taller boy next to him silenced him with a glare and approached, Matarys looked with surprise, it was his brother Vaemond.

    ''You haven't changed a bit little brother.'' His older brother said as Matarys embraced him.

    ''You have….a lot.'' Matarys said. Vae was a lot different than he remembered, where Matarys was plump and short, his older brother was lean and broad shouldered.

    ''You heard the egg Aunt Rhaenys gave me hatched…..I have a dragon now…I named it Moondancer.'' Matarys said excitedly.

    ''I should like to see it.'' Vaemond said, and one of the servants nodded and left the hall.

    The servant returned shortly after holding a heavy iron cage, Moondancer was inside, hissing little puffs of smoke.

    His father frowned ''A cage is no place for a Dragon Matarys.''

    ''I know, I tried to become friends with it but it bit me hard.' Matarys explained.

    Lord Royce nodded ''The boy speaks true….it took a good chunk out of his arm.''

    ''When I return to the capitol I want to introduce him to Ser Whiskers…..maybe that will make him friendlier.'' Matarys offered.

    ''Matarys…a dragon is more likely to eat your little friend than listen to it…..you will have to train it with bits of meat from the kitchens…that's what Nyel does with hers…if you keep it in a cage it will grow weak.'' His older brother said.

    ''I will.'' Matarys promised, but he doubted it would do much good, the dragon didn't seem to like him very much.

    Lord Arryn held an impressive feast that night, and the next morning he joined father and Vae for several days of touring the hamlets in the immediate vicinity to the Eyrie. They were some of the best days of Matarys life, he was excused from swordplay for an entire two weeks, and he and Vae spent several days exploring the surrounding lands, riding to the nearby tavern one day and a hidden mountain stream the other, Not even Dalton Wynch could ruin it as his brother was quickly at his side if the Ironborn tried to approach. The other days were more boring, observing his father dispensing justice on the small folk, hearing their complaints.

    After the two weeks had ended, his Lord father and his brother would depart the Eyrie, riding for Seaguard, where they would take a ship to the island of Fair Isle.

     
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter 16: The Winds of Fair Isle (Part 2)
  • Threadmarks
    • 12th Moon, 8015
    Village of Westwood

    Aegon inspected the damage to the village of Westwood on Fair Isle, fishing boats had sunk in the harbor and the roofs of many houses had been torn off, scattered on the streets.

    Even the tavern The Three Ships inn, the biggest building in the village had not been spared damage, and the sign that hung from its lamppost depicting 3 ships was hanging crookedly, one of the iron chains that held it up broken.

    ''Truly I've never seen such a storm your grace.'' The leader of the small village watch said as they walked by yet more ruined houses. Normally the mayor of the town would have the honor of leading the King on the tour, but the old man was clearly mad, muttering about how the next time a storm came he would gather up the children of the village and offer them to the sea, Aegon had then spoken a quiet word to Lord Farman that perhaps it was time for a new village headman to be chosen.

    ''Everything shall be rebuilt…on that you have my word….it will take time however.'' Lord Robert Farman said from his horse. In truth the man cast a very unimpressive figure, dressed in dirty trousers and a wine stained leather jerkin, with unkempt blonde hair, a scraggly beard and sad eyes, though Aegon had gathered the man truly did care for his people.



    Aegon nodded, further surveying the damage as they rode through the town, they were met by a small crowd, led by a small man with black hair and nervous eyes.

    ''Your Grace.'' The man said, bowing his head.

    ''Rise….you may speak.'' Aegon said from horseback, gesturing the man up.

    ''The thing is your grace…..a small matter but….we've a contract with traders promising them use of our port for a payment paid in advance each year, the ship captains however well, they want their coin paid back in full with interest….we cant afford to pay them, we will need every copper we cain for repairs.'' The man said timidly.

    Aegon nodded ''I shall have a raven sent to my master of laws in Kings Landing instructing him to find a compromise that is fair for both sides.''



    The man bowed gratefully.

    One week later, Aegon and his retinue would sail from Fair Isle into the Sunset Sea, where they would sail to the Shield Islands, traveling down the Mander to Highgarden, where Harlan Tyrell, who would delegate his duties as master of coin would host them for two weeks in the capital of the Reach.


    3rd of First Moon, 8016
    Sunset Sea off Fair Isle

    Vaemond adjusted his seat in the crows perch of the galley Water Steed, curling his legs around the mast. He was not afraid of heights but it was a long way down to be sure and it was a windy day.

    The Prince liked this spot of the ship best, from here you could see for miles in any direction, just this past day he had seen countless whales, trading vessels and small rocky islands.

    The sunset was his favorite part of the day however, even today with gray skies and dark clouds one could catch a glimmer of the sunset far off yet just out of reach at the same time, pale rays of light barely piercing the fog.



    He saw Balerion behind them, flying lazily, his dark black scales making it so that he almost blended in with the dark skies and clouds, a shadow. Below them he heard the Kingsguard, Ser Stafford Lannister heaving over the side of the ship, a location he scarcely left, at table the previous night Ser Stafford claimed it was something he ate, but Vaemond thought the man was just sea-sick.

    Vaemond set back to his task, it was growing dark and his father would expect Blackfyre to be sharpened soon. He watched the last rays of the sun glimmer over the Valyrian Steel before bringing it to the whetstone, a satisfying sound ringing out over the sunset sea.

    Vaemonds duties were more than normal lately, his fathers other squire Dalton Wynch had been sent back to the Isles on a ship in Fair Isle, he was a man grown and it was time for him to return to his family. In truth Vaemond was glad, he had once looked up to the older boy but after the incident with Matarys he had come to realize he was just a bully, cruel and angry,and in truth he wasn't even a very good sword, Vaemond found that he won most of their spars, the Ironborn boy fought without technique and only with anger.

    He did not mind the extra duties however, he enjoyed handling Blackfyre, and he dreamed often that when he was older he would save his fathers life and he would be given Blackfyre to wield against his fathers enemies.

    As Vaemond ran an oiled cloth over the blade, a deafening crash rang through the air, startled he cut himself on the hand, turning to face the sea and seeing the remnants of lightning in the sky, the air seeming to almost smoke.

    He carefully put down his fathers sword and wiped his bloody hand on his trousers, and stood up, hoping to catch another view of the lightning, he had never seen it so close.

    The dark clouds slowly began to produce rain, soft at first but within a minute it was falling hard and fast, stinging Vaemonds eyes.

    The last rays of the sun, which had looked so beautiful just moments before were long gone and replaced with dark skies.

    Another thunderous crash of lightning boomed across the sky, its outline seemingly frozen in the dark sky. Vaemond was a brave boy, but even he could sense that it was time to climb down from the crows nest to his quarters, he had never seen seas like this before.

    He grabbed his fathers sword and scabbard and looked down the rope handles that led down to the deck. They were swaying in the wind, wet and slippery, and barely visible in the dark.

    A King must be brave He thought to himself, reminding himself of his fathers words. He tied the scabbard around his back and was about to dangle down to the rope ladder when there was a massive swelling of the ship, rocking the galley to the side.




    Vaemond was thrown to the edge of the crows nest, catching the sides with his hands and looking down to the deck. He watched in horror as Ser Stafford Lannister who had been retching over the side of the ship slipped over, his white kingsguard plate armor reflected by the nearby lightning. It happened faster than Vaemond could believe, the knight gave a short cry before he was in the water, for the briefest of seconds Vaemond saw a golden head of hair in a sea of black, but no sooner than the Kingsguard was in the water he was gone.

    Shouts and cries rang out from below as men ran to the sides of the ship, looking for the Kinsguard but he was gone, swallowed by the waves.



    Vaemond lay frozen, he had never seen a man die before. He had watched two maimings in a tourney, and saw a washed up body while at Fair Isle but never an actual death.

    The waves were picking up at this point, a shrieking howl on the winds as the boat continued to rock.

    He saw his father on the deck, dressed in a heavy black leather jerkin with a dragon stitched onto it, shouting commands, Lord Commander Corlys Velaryon was beside him, with his squire Omer Bulwer helping him out of his heavy plate, The prince heard his father shouting and sensed that he was searching for him.

    ''UP HERE.'' Vaemond shouted, the crows nest shaking, but his voice was drowned out by the winds, the rain stinging his eyes and cold air entering his mouth when he shouted.

    Then the most ferocious gale Vaemond had ever seen hit them. Whatever storm they had faced before paled in comparison to what they faced now, the ship tossed and turned to each side, throwing knights and stewards overboard screaming.

    Vaemond realized that he had to get down or he would be lost. He made his way to the rope ladder and was about to climb down when the boat lurched to the side, placing it in the water itself.

    Then the mast snapped.

    Vaemond cried out as the crows nest fell from the top of the mast, wood chips flying everywhere, cutting his hands. It finally stopped, leaning precariously over the swirling sea like a banner on a flagpole, the masts still upright.

    He held on with all his might, his bloody hands mixing with the wet rain, and with horror he realized he felt what little support remained to the crows nest slowly bending, it would not be long until he fell into the seas thirty feet below.

    I'm going to die, Vaemond thought, thinking of Ser Stafford, how he must have felt as he was swallowed by the waves.

    Then his father came.

    ''BALERION TO ME.'' He made out his father shout through the winds and witnessed the bravest thing he had ever seen.

    He saw his father hand his crown to Corlys Velaryon, who was on a little boat in the sea with the rest of the Kingsguard, a few knights and Omer Bulwer, all trying to steady the ship against the hull of the galley.

    He saw his father clamber from the ship onto the upturned hull of the Galley, slippery with rain. With surprising agility his father made his way up, a dark shape appearing from the sky, it was Balerion. His father somehow managed to mount the Dragon from the sloped sinking hull and flew him into the air, flying towards his son.

    Vaemond felt the crows nest on its last legs, the last few tendrils of wood giving way.

    Just a moment more He begged.

    Then he fell.

    Unlike Ser Stafford who had seemingly fallen in an instant, time seemed to freeze as the Prince fell.

    He flailed his arms, falling backwards into the sea, the wind a wordless scream, matching his own cry. He waited for the cold dark to embrace him, to take him, closing his eyes.

    He landed with a thud rather than a splash and felt a hand steadying his shoulder. He looked down and realized he was on Balerion, his father pinning him to the dragon.

    He looked up and saw his fathers face etched in immeasurable worry and relief.

    His father opened his mouth to say something.

    Then the mast took him on the shoulder, knocking him from Balerion with a grunt.

    Vaemond held onto the Dragon in disbelief and confusion. He only then noticed the sound of the mast falling, splintering, large pieces falling all around him.

    Balerion let out a thunderous roar and plunged downwards, Vaemond cried out as the water rose up to meet him, entering with a splash.

    He had fallen off of Balerion, who had disappeared beneath the waves. Vaemond was a strong swimmer but he felt himself sinking, the weight of his boots and Blackfyre dragging him into the depths, he tried frantically to both tread water and unbuckle his shoulder sword belt at the same time but it was no use. He found he could not keep his head above water and cold freezing water entered his mouth, nose and eyes. As his resistance faded and his mind went to black he felt a pair of strong hands on his shoulder, pulling him up before all went black.




    The moon shone beneath the dark waves like a lantern in the night, shimmering and misshapen but there nonetheless.

    Aegon watched it, holding out a hand as if to grab hold of it to pull himself up but it was in vain.

    He made out a massive dark shape, eyes as red as rubies plunging down towards him.

    Balerion….no Aegon thought but the dragon paid him no mind, swimming down into the depths to join his rider.

    Aegon's last thoughts were of the moon on the eve of his coronation in Oldtown, shining bright in the pink sunset.

    It's beautiful isn't it? The voice of his sister Rhaenys called out, coursing through his body.

    Aegon Targaryen, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, First of his name, reached out a hand towards the moon as he sank below the waves of the sunset sea.

    ]






    Lord Commander Corlys Velaryon , who had swam out to sea and rescued Vaemond would spend a full day combing the Sunset Sea with the surviving swords of the Kingsguard for any trace of his cousin and King, but no trace of Aegon, or the dragon Balerion the Dread, last living creature to ever see the glory of old Valyria would ever be found, and they would eventually make their to the coast after several days at sea, the storm gone as quickly as it had appeared.



    -I got extremely unlucky here, there was only a 10% chance of Aegon dying in the event, and then only 50% of Balerion dying as well, only the sword Blackfyre made it through the event.[
     
  • Threadmarks
    • The History of the Targaryen Rulers: Aegon the Just, First of His Name
  • Threadmarks
    • Histories of the Targaryen Kings





    King Aegon Targaryen, 1st of his name, was the first man to gain the title of King of the Andals, Rhoynar, and the First men, uniting all seven Kingdoms of Westeros under the rule of his dragon banner in his lifetime. King Aegon's military accomplishments were extensive. In his wars of conquest he, along with his sisters, forced the combined host of Reachman and Westerlanders to retreat from the Field of Fire. King Aegon once again employed his dragon to burn the great fortress of Harrenhall along with the Iron King of the Ironborn, later putting down a revolt from a drowned priest in the Isles. Following the conquests he conquered Dorne in under two years, burning the castle of Yronwood and much of the ancient family, in his last campaign he conquered an island in the Stepstones, establishing an outpost on the island of Sunstone. Apart from these wars Aegons 17 years were largely filled with peace, with the construction of the Red Keep beginning in Aegon's reign as well as the construction of city walls around the developing capital of King's Landing. Legal reforms also took place under Aegons reign, with the practice of raiding by the Ironborn within the seven kingdoms being made illegal, along with the dissolution of the ancient practice of the first night. King Aegon , who had landed in Westeros 17 years prior in Blackwater Bay from the Narrow Sea, died at the opposite end of his Kingdom while on a royal progress, drowning off the coast of Fair Isle along with Balerion the Black Dread, his body was never recovered, though he would be known as Aegon the Noble in recognition for his just and fair temperament.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Chronicle of Dragons: Entry #1 Balerion the Black Dread
  • Threadmarks
    • Chronicle of Dragons








    Name: Balerion, called the ''Black Dread''
    Scales: Black as Midnight
    Description: Balerion the Black Dread was brought by the Targaryen family from the Freehold of Valyria to the island of Dragonstone. Over a century later, Balerion, now over 100 feet long was the last living creature to see the Freehold of Old Valyria in its Prime, and was claimed by Aegon who used him to burn a Volantene fleet in his youth and later to conquer the Seven Kingdoms, burning the combined forces of the Reach and Westerlands at the Field of Fire, before burning House Hoare within the fortress of Harrenhall, reducing it to ruins. Balerion burned the host of Lodos the Drowned Priest in the Iron Islands and years later burned the castle of Yronwood in Dorne, where most of the proud house met their end. In later years Balerion burned several pirate ships in the Steppestones as well as fighting in the battles of Watersmeet and Sandgate. In 8016, at 131 years of age, Balerion disappeared under the waters of the Sunset Sea following his rider after a shipwreck in which Aegon Targaryen was drowned.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Nooo! Balerion! Aegon! Your legacy will live on and the Rei-'cough cough' Targeryans will rule for eternity!
     
    The White Book Entry #1: Ser Stafford Lannister
  • Threadmarks
    • The White Book
    Deeds and Accomplishments of the Sworn Brothers of the Kingsguard




    Ser Stafford Lannister



    Ser Stafford Lannister was named to the Kingsguard of Aegon Targaryen, 1st of his name in his 28th year as the first representative of the Westerlands. He served the Kingsguard honorably for 14 years. He remained in the capitol to defend Queen Visenya and Princess Nyel during the Dornish War protecting them from harm, and later fought at the naval battle outside of Sunstone against a fleet of Steppenstone Pirates. Ser Stafford was lost to the waves outside of Fair Isle in the Sunset Sea and presumed drowned along with his King.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter 17: The Queen Regent (Visenya)
  • Threadmarks
    • Fourth Moon, 8016
    Visenya's Chambers

    Visenya looked into the mirror as Elayna helped adjust her clothes for court, a long black dress with a dark silver chain necklace with a pendant of pure obsidian, black as night, the clothes of a mourning queen.

    She was painfully aware of the lines on her face, under her eyes. To be sure they were not new, she had become aware of them the past few years, she was leaving her youth behind, but ever since Aegons death she had seemingly aged ten years, with dark lines under her eyes.



    Aegon She thought, just thinking of his name was enough to wrack grief through her body, coursing through her veins, tears welling at her eyes, but she did not let them pass.

    A Queen does not cry…and I must remain strong Visenya thought, steeling herself, once she entered the throne room there could be no hint of weakness.

    As if she was aware of Visenyas thoughts, Elayana, her handmaiden, took her hand and squeezed it gently. The young woman was near 20 years younger than her but was one of the only people that Visenya truly trusted. On the night that terrible raven had reached her with the news, her handmaiden had even warmed her bed, comforting her, like she was a young girl.

    ''They will be expecting you Your grace.'' Elayana said gently.

    Visenya nodded, taking one last look in the mirror before Elayana placed a circlet of black silver on her silver hair, and with that she made her way to the door, where the Kingsguard Ser Garmon Hightower had the guard.

    ''My Queen.'' Ser Garmon said, bowing deeply, Visenya nodded silently and together they walked through the timber halls of the Aegonfort until they arrived at the Longhall of the Aegonfort, where the castle denizens were assembled for court.

    The longhall of the Aegonfort, which had been so lively during the courts of the late King, was nearly deserted, with only a small handful of nobles present. Visenya had sent away almost all of the small council, Harlan Tyrell, Edmyn Tully, Jon Mooton, all had been given leave to return home, she did not want to contend with any other opposing voices in her regency, she would not be questioned by the likes of them, no matter how competent they were, they would act in the interests of their houses while Visenya would only work to secure her sons position.

    Only her half-brother Orys and Grandmaester Arlan remained, both standing on opposite sides of the Iron Throne.

    The rest of the smoky longhall was sparsely crowded. The knights of the Kinsguard were all present, save for Corlys Velaryon who was with her son in the courtyard, no doubt training Vaemond on swordplay and tactics. The two had become almost inseparable since their return, and Visenya sensed these lessons were a way to distract him from his grief.

    Her daughter Nyel was also present, as were Orys's two squires Michael Musgood and Steffon Swann. She quite liked little Michael, a boy of 8 who was well mannered, but she did not like the way that Steffon Swann, with his long black hair and green eyes looked at his daughter, and more importantly she did not like how Nyel looked back at him. The boy was due to return home in a year but she would have to have a quiet word with Orys that perhaps he should be sent back to Stonehelm immediately.

    Her sister Rhaenys was not present either, a fortnight after that terrible raven had arrived, she had departed for Storms End, where Orys's wife was expecting another child, hoping the running of little feet would distract her from her grief, an idea Orys had been supportive of. Visenya once again felt a twinge of sadness that her sister would likely never have children of her own, but darker thoughts reminded her that her own children would not have to look over their shoulder at younger half-siblings.



    Brynden Tully, the one legged commander of the gold cloaks was also present, leaning on a cane, accompanied by his youngest son Rhaegar, a skinny boy with red hair. Her handmaiden Elayana was present as well, normally it would not be appropriate for one of such low standing to attend court but there was noone left to oppose Visenya's decision.

    Rounding out the group of regulars was Ser Neilyn, the Dornish hedge knight who served as the castle's master-of-the-hunt as well as occasionally serving as Aegon's justice and executioner after meeting the King following the capture of Wyl.

    At the back of the hall was one of the largest men that Visenya had ever seen, standing a good foot taller than Aegon had been, more than seven feet tall, he had short cropped brown hair and the beginnings of a beard, he wore a woolen doublet with the sigil of a black and white boar.

    He is all that was promised and more Visenya thought as she took a seat, carefully maneuvering herself so that the black silk of her dress would not be torn.

    Aegon you sweet noble fool She thought as she struggled to get comfortable, he had somehow believed that the uncomfortable nature of the throne would remind a king that they must never grow complacent, not even in their own throne, but Visenya found that it was hard to concentrate on anything for fear of slipping back onto a sword.

    At last however she found a position where there didn't seem to be any immediate threat of being impaled and turned to the court, nodding to Orys to begin the proceedings, who asked if there were any in the court that wished to lay a matter before the Queen regent, due to the small attendance however there were no petitions, leaving Visenya free to deal with other metters.

    She turned to the huge man at the back of the hall ''Ser Roland Crakehall, step forward if you will.''

    The large man stepped forward towards the Throne, bowing his head.

    ''Ser Roland….I have heard tales and rumors of a formidable young Knight from Crakehall…I find rumors to be inaccurate at best, but these tales do you a disservice Ser.'' Visenya said curtly.

    ''As you know, the Kinsguard Ser Stafford Lannister, representative of the Westerlands was…..lost at sea along with his King.'' Visenya said, stopping to collect herself for a moment.

    Ser Roland nodded and spoke, a deep booming voice despite his young age ''I instructed the septon of Crakehall to have candles lit in the sept for the King and Ser Stafford, along with all the others who perished….the Westerlands share your grief my lady.''

    Visenya very much doubted that but she nodded ''There is a vacancy on my sons Kingsguard that could be filled by a Knight of the Westerlands….I would offer you the chance to fill this vacancy….consider carefully as you would be giving up the chance at land, title, and heir.''

    The young knight took a knee ''The seven as my witness I shall keep the King safe from harm….I accept.''



    Visenya gave a small smile, she knew he would accept, and it was good that he had, It would do her son good to have a younger Kinsguard around him, as the youngest member of the guard before Rolands appointment was 34. ''Good, Lord Commander Corlys Velaryon will hear your vow following court, myself and my son shall attend at the White Sword Tower.''

    Ser Roland nodded and withdrew to the back of the hall.

    With that finished, the next order of business was begun.

    ''Ser Neilyn….step forward.'' Visenya commanded and the gray haired Dornish hedge knight complied.

    ''It is the opinion of the council that you have served the court well for these past years, putting food on the table as master of the hunt, and proving your martial ability during the Dornish conspiracy.'' Visenya began.

    The knight nodded ''I am pleased you see the value in my service your Grace.''

    ''It is the wish of the council that you be henceforth raised to the rank of lord, and be given the island of Sunstone as your seat….Grandmaester Arlan will meet with you following court to create a sigil of your choice.'' Visenya decreed, earning nods from both Orys and Arlan on her side.

    Neilyn had used his years in the capitol to great effect, befriending both the Hand of the King Orys by hunting together on occasion and the Grandmaester, whom he instructed on how best to prevent ravens from being attacked by falcons. It was these friendships that led him to become the leading candidate to receive the island of Sunstone.

    In truth Visenya had not particularly cared about the small rocky island in the narrow sea, she was aware of Aegon's plan to perhaps set up their son Matarys as Lord of the Stepstones, but she didn't think it fitting that a prince be given overlordship of former pirates, rocky islands, and bedraggled fishermen as his inheritance, such a task was much more suited for an old and grizzled hedge knight than the blood of the Dragon.



    ''I accept the honor,my Queen.'' Ser Neilyn said, bowing his head, looking rather pleased, as he should. In just a few years he had gone from master-at-arms of the Dornish castle of Wyl, to master of the hunt of the royal court, to a lord of a newly founded noble house.

    After Lord Neilyns ascension, there was but one more thing Visenya wished to accomplish for the days court.

    She turned to Grandmaester Arlan, barely avoiding cutting herself on a sharp sword edge.

    ''Grandmaester…have a raven sent to Runestone informing Lord Nestor Royce that he is to bring both my son and his daughter to the capitol, it is time they were wed.'' Visenya said, earning a few whispers in the court, the prospect of a royal marriage was always exciting.

    Grandmaester Arlan ran a hand through his long white beard ''My Queen if I may….the prince and Demerei Royce are quite young….perhaps it would be best to wait a few years, until the prince is a man grown….it takes a man to fully understand the vows of marriage.''



    Visenya shook her head ''The marriage need not be consummated for some time, but it is time my son returned home…do as I ask Grandmaester.''

    Arlan nodded, ever obedient.

    In truth, Visenya had meant to do this much earlier. With Aegon's death, she feared that some unknown faction might snatch her son, isolated and alone in the Vale and use him as a figurehead or a puppet in some sort of rebellion against his older brother, the sooner her son was safe in the capital the better.

    Visenya felt the tiredness take her, the court had drained her more than she knew, she stood from the throne and dismissed the court for the day, returning to her chambers and dreaming of better days.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter 18: A Royal Weding (Vaemond, Nyel)
  • Threadmarks
    • 9th Moon, 8016
    Fields outside Kings Landing

    The sun was shining brightly as Vaemond approached his horse. An excited murmur made its way through the crowd.

    Corlys Velaryon was at his side, the dust of the tourney grounds mixing with the sweltering heat ''I've asked around about your opponent….but i'm afraid I don't have much advice for you….Ser Orson is unpredictable.''



    Vaemond nodded, mounting his horse, as he was only 14, he had no squire of his own so Omer Bulwer, the boy who had come to be fostered by the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard due to his fathers prowess in the lists some years ago attended him.

    The young squire had already helped him into his armor, black plate with a golden dragon emblem, but now that he was mounted he handed Vaemond a black helm, a slit to see through, then a lance and shield None of the equipment was scaled down, despite being only 14, Vaemond found he was the same size if not taller of many men in the court with a strength to match.

    His opponent, a younger brother of the lord of Farring Cross was less impressive, wearing a leather jerkin, mail, and a surcoat, bright purple and white in the colors of his house.

    Vaemond steadied himself, preparing for the signal to be given by the trumpeters.

    It was to be Vaemonds first joust. Once word that Matarys and Demerei Royce were to be wed, Brynden Tully, commander of the Gold Cloaks and overseer of Kings Landing had announced that he would fund a small tourney as his gift for the newly weds, rather ironic as the aging man had lost his leg in one some years prior.



    It was to be a small affair, with only the knights of the Kinsguard and combatants from the castles and lands surrounding the capitol, a region that had become known as the Crownlands ever since Aegon's conquest. Vaemond had been determined to take part, and his mother had of course offered a feeble resistance, but not much, she was always so tired lately, though he had thought that he had even seen a glimpse of pride on her face when she came to wish him well.

    ''It's your first joust…..so don't try and inspire a song by doing something outlandish….shield up, lance down…after that it's all luck…and horsemanship'' Corlys said, patting the mounted Vaemond on the leg.

    Vaemond supposed he should have some measure of fear, he had seen the consequences of a joust gone wrong, Orys Baratheon his fathers best friend and half-brother had lost his eye on this very field, as Ser Brynden had lost his leg, but all he could feel in his body was excitement, few things scared him after his fall from the crows nest in the Sunset Sea.

    Vaemond would have liked to give a look to his sister, brother, and mother in the royal pavilion, but the dust and sun meant he could only make out the dragon banner.

    The trumpets heralded the beginning of the joust, and Vaemond sent his horse, a brown warhorse, thundering forward at Ser Orson Farring. Jousting was an activity that required a good deal of self awareness, when to go on the attack, and when to realize you were in a poor position and attempt to defend.

    Vaemond rode well on his first tilt, but Ser Orson rode with the experience of a man used to participating in tourneys, and it was his lance that struck first, Vaemond had been so sure he was in a good position to strike first he had not even attempted to block the strike, but by chance Ser Orsons blow hit his shield, shattering it and sending wood chips flying everywhere, and the two riders prepared to go again, with Omer Bulwer handing Vaemond another shield. The second tilt saw neither rider shatter a lance and they prepared for the third, and decisive tilt which ended in Vaemond falling from his horse into the dirt, causing a loud murmur through the crowd.

    Ser Orson dismounted immediately, and to the crowd's relief, helped Vaemond up, who began to dust himself off. Ser Orson Farring dispensed with the need for Vaemond to ransom his horse and black and golden plate armor, and Vaemond made his way back to the royal pavilion, a little bruised but otherwise unharmed.



    ''I am glad you are unhurt Vae.'' Matarys, who was sitting beside Demerei Royce said.

    ''You rode well brother.'' Nyel said graciously as he took a seat.

    Vaemond shook his head ''I rode well in the first tilt but I was never anywhere close to landing a hit in any of the others.''

    ''Still….for your first joust….'' Nyel offered, taking his shoulder gently and picking out a wood chip that had embedded in his tunic.

    ''If I'm to be King I will have to deal with worse than the likes of Orson Farring.'' Vaemond said, somewhat sullenly as Nyel pulled out the shard.

    ''And when you do deal with them….it will not be on the tourney grounds….jousting is a game for old done men and young boys to play at war….your father never rode in them.'' His mother said, approaching, her voice sharp as it was so often.

    ''Well I enjoyed it nonetheless.'' Vaemond responded, feeling like a fool the moment the words left his mouth, it was his curse.

    His mother nodded curtly at that ''You enjoyed it because you are yet a boy Vaemond….when you see battle perhaps you will enjoy it less.''

    The rest of the jousting was concluded within a few hours as it was a smaller tourney. Ser Gregor Goode, and Ser Roland Crakehall of the Kinsguard rode well, as did Lord Jarman Chyttering of the Kingswood, but in the end it had been the newest and youngest member of the Kingsguard, Ser Roland Crakehall who had won the honors.




    By the time Ser Roland had secured his victory, dusk had come, and the tourney ground began to empty, most of the spectators reluctantly returning to their homes or taverns, while the most notable guests made their way to the Sept for the wedding between Matarys Targaryen and Demerei Royce.

    Visenya had chosen to hold the wedding in the small sept within the Aegonfort, with only those of suitable rank being invited. Orys Baratheon was present, as was Lord Jarman Chyttering of the Kingswood. Lord Nestor Royce and his wife Nynia, who had been named Queen of Love and Beauty all those years ago, were standing at the front rank to see their daughter married, Rhaenys had made the trip from Storms End as well, giving Vaemond a smile as he entered the small sept, she looked pale however, and had heard his mother mention she suffered from the same cancer that Ser Corlys did.

    A plump septon stood at the altar, moonlight pouring through the seven glass windows.

    Matarys stood in front of him, his silver hair shaved short and dressed in a tight fitting black leather jerkin with red garnets set about the neck. Demerei Royce was beside him.

    Matarys had grown taller since Vaemond had seen him last, but Demeri stood a few inches taller still, her light brown hair, which matched her eyes was pulled back and she wore a white dress. Her thin lips had a small smile on them as she stood next to Matarys.



    Once it was clear all those in attendance were present, the plump septon began the ceremony.

    ''In the sight of gods and men….we call upon the seven to witnes…'' The septon began before Matarys gave a small chuckle.

    ''My good septon….there are no gods here.'' Matarys said matter of factly, causing the plump septon to gasp and an awkward silence to fill the sept.

    ''Blasphemy…….'' The septon said after some pause, raising a meaty finger towards the prince.

    Vaemond saw his mother was about to stand up but before she could Demerei Royce interjected.

    ''Forgive me septon, but I believe my betrothed meant no offense…only to point out that not all the seven are here at this moment, would it not be more fitting to ask the mother, maiden, and crone to witness our vows…surely the warrior has little interest in weddings.'' Demerei Royce pointed out, it was clear she was extremely intelligent.

    The septon paused at that ''Well…hmmm..I….perhaps.'' he said, clearly flustered.

    ''Continue Septon Owen.'' Visenya commanded and the ceremony went without further interruption.

    When the time came, Nestor Royce, Lord of Runestone approached his daughter and removed her wedding cloak, which was pale orange cloth with black cloth stitched in the shape of runes of the first men.

    Matarys took his own cloak, black as midnight with a dark red dragon and placed it on her shoulders with some difficulty, welcoming Demerei Royce into the protection of House Targaryen.

    Once this was done, the septon, still somewhat perturbed about the earlier interruption, said the customary words, with the betrothed giving oaths of love and loyalty before exchanging a kiss, officially binding House Targaryen and House Royce.



    Following this, the small procession moved to the Aegonfort where a feast had been prepared which went on for several hours, there was no bedding ceremony as the two were still young however.


    Midnight
    Vaemonds Chambers

    Vaemond was awoken by his door creaking open, a figure holding a candle making their way through the door before carefully shutting it.

    Vaemond propped himself up, squinting in the darkness to figure out who it was as the figure approached, the candle illuminating the silver hair and violet eyes of his sister.

    ''Nyel?'' Vaemond asked with confusion.

    She put a lip to her lips and approached his bed.

    ''How did you get past the Kingsguard?'' Vaemond asked with confusion, his door was guarded in shifts by his Kinsguard throughout the night.

    ''Changing of the guard.'' Nyel responded quietly

    ''It's a good thing you're not an assassin…..it seems I'm easier to kill than I thought'' Vaemond said, still groggy from sleep.

    She ignored that and put a hand on his shoulder, gently, Vaemond grimaced and pulled away, both in pain and with a little embarrassment, he had fallen on the shoulder hard during the tourney.

    ''What are you doing?'' He asked.

    ''You're wounded worse than I thought your Grace.'' She said, gently massaging it.

    ''You don't have to call me that.'' Vaemond said, looking at her, noticing not for the first time how her violet eyes seemed to sparkle.

    Afterwards he couldn't say how it started but suddenly he was kissing her, while she gently pushed him down onto the bed and unlaced his shirt, he didn't resist her.










    Dead of Night
    Vaemonds Chambers


    Nyel stood in the familiar blackness, the void she called it. It had been months since she had last dreamed it….since before her father had died.



    She saw nothing at first but turned.

    To her right a figure appeared, featureless and dark the shadow approached, leaning on a cane. Three sharp black swords followed him, dancing through the air, leaving behind a purple mist.

    ''Boy.'' The figure said the word echoing throughout the dark like a clash of steel, the figure approaching before at last disappearing, the next part of the vision filled her mind.

    Nyel was gone from the darkness, in a tower chamber, oddly familiar to her.

    A figure approached her, short hair like silver, reaching out a hand.

    She bit him, hot blood coursing through her mouth, a shrill scream puncturing the silence of the dark.

    The blood of the dragon The words entered her mind.

    Suddenly she was off the ground,small wings as white as snow carrying her into the distance.

    She was back in the dark and the stench of death, the most vile smell that she had ever encountered filled the air, choking her, strangling her.

    She fell to the ground, hearing a shuffling noise.

    She turned and then she saw it, a shadow cloaked by a black hood approached.

    She felt tears as cold as ice falling down her face at the sight of it, and suddenly she was fighting it, attempting to pull some unseen object from its hands, shrieking, pleading and screaming but to no avail.

    The figure pulled down its hood, a face cracked and gray with yellow eyes staring back, causing her to fall to the ground, losing her grip on the unseen object.

    My fault Another figure said to her, its voice full of grief, oddly familiar.

    Nyel awoke in a cold sweat, the gray shadows face slowly fading from her mind.

    She looked around and realized she was still in her brother's chambers, cursing as she realized she had slept. She had meant to leave his chambers at the next changing of the guard, but now it would be impossible to get out without being discovered.

    Before she could rouse Vaemond, who was sleeping soundly beside her, to cause a distraction, a blood piercing scream echoed throughout the keep, providing more than enough distraction as she heard the Kingsguard outside her brother's door run down the hall.

    Vaemond woke up and immediately pulled on a tunic, scarcely giving Nyel a look as he ran off to investigate, giving Nyel privacy to dress.

    When she had, she slowly made her way to the scene that was unfolding just a few doors down….around her brother Matarys's chamber.

    On the floor was her brother, leaving against his bed groaning, a chunk of his hand missing, red blood pouring onto the fine carpets of the chamber, Demerei Royce was at his side, comforting him, while an Iron cage stood open in the corner of the room.

    After Grandmaester Arlan had stemmed the bleeding with firemilk, the truth gradually came out. Though the marriage had not been consummated as Demerei Royce was still too young, the two newlyweds had shared a bed in a ceremonial fashion.

    Upon the morning, Matarys, feeling the effects of several cups of wine from the wedding feast and wanting to impress Demerei opened the dragon Moondancers cage to attempt to hold him. The dragon was no longer a little hatchling and was the size of a small dog and had reacted with hostility, attacking the prince and flying off, but not before taking a chunk of his hand with him.








    Two Nights Later
    Vaemonds Chambers


    Vaemond took one last look at the map before stuffing it in his satchel, donning a hooded cloak and opening the door quietly, where Lord Commander Corlys Velaryon was waiting.

    The two made their way through the deserted halls of the Aegonfort before they were soon outside, the chill of night hitting Vaemond and he pulled his cloak tighter against his body.

    ''Last chance to turn back.'' The Lord Commander said, armored in white enamel plate with a flowing white cloak, a far cry from his young charges subtlety.

    ''No chance.'' Vaemond said and the two continued towards the stables, mounting two horses and riding through the gates, which were opened immediately when the guards saw the white armor of the Kinsguard, little attention being placed on his hooded companion.

    They rode through the streets of Kings Landing, the smell of shit and cheap beer hitting them as they passed through Eel Alley, a few drunk men stumbled outside various small taverns and wine sinks but otherwise the streets were near empty.



    Vaemond looked up at the hill where the Red Keep was being constructed and improved, the red bricks visible in the moonlight, a far more impressive sight even unfinished than the timber Aegonfort.

    After a time they eventually reached the Lion Gate and similarly to the Aegonfort, the guards let the Lord Commander out without any question.

    After that they rode west, following the river of the Blackwater Rush, Vaemond urged his horse forward into a gallop, pulling down his hood and feeling the cool night breeze on his face, the Lord Commander followed close behind, following the young prince's pace.

    The two were headed west to track down the dragon Moondancer, which according to reports had made its way to a small island on the river a few miles from Kings Landing, snapping at any fishermen that got too close.

    Vaemond had intended to ride alone at first, sneaking out of the palace. The dragon Moondancer, despite its fierceness was only three feet long and it was only a matter of time before the fishermen decided enough was enough and attacked it, his mother was planning to travel to the island on the back of Vhagar and coax it back to the city but she was busy as of late and it could be too late by the time that happened so Vaemond decided to take matters into his own hands

    Vaemond had felt sick with the idea of deceiving his Kingsguard, potentially exposing them to chastisement if he escaped under their watch so earlier that night he had opened the door and had the Kingsguard Ser Garmon Hightower bring him to the White Sword Tower to speak with Corlys.

    He was very close with his distant cousin, and confided near everything in the Lord Commander, even telling him, red faced, what had occurred with Nyel. Lord Commander Corlys agreed that something should be done about Moondancer and agreed to help Vaemond, but with the non negotiable condition that he escort the prince to Moondancers hideout.

    ''I'm surprised it managed to get so far for such a small thing.'' Corlys said, breaking the silence as they slowed their horses to a trot, giving the horses a reprieve.

    ''I find it unwise to be surprised at anything a Dragon does….small it may be but it has the blood of Balerion in its veins.'' Vaemond said with a small smile, earning a nod from the Kingsguard.

    Among a pile of reeds they found a small rowboat, Corlys left a small purse of 50 silver stags for the owner and they pushed it into the Blackwater Rush, heading upstream.

    Not long after the small island came into sight, along with its occupant. Vaemond had to admit his brother did a fine job naming the dragon as Moondancer was aptly named. White as fresh fallen snow with small smooth scales the small dragon was sleeping in the middle of the island, sticking out in the dark waters of the Blackwater Rush much like the moon in the night sky.

    They paddled slowly through the dark river until they reached it, the dragon still unaware of their presence.

    ''I'll go alone.'' Vaemond said softly, and the Lord Commander shook his head with an expression that brooked no negotiation.

    Vaemond stepped from the boat to the muddy shore and the dragon opened its eyes, hearing the rattle of Corlys's heavy plate armor.

    It stood on its legs and gave a hiss, a small amount of smoke filling the night sky.

    Corlys stood back, his hand resting gently on his Longsword while Vaemond slowly approached.

    The small dragon let out another hiss but stood its ground.



    Vaemond, making sure to show no fear, strode confidently forward, reaching into his satchel and throwing out a choice piece of bloody beef, straight from the kitchens at the ground in front of the white dragon.

    He approached even closer, being so close that he could count the tiny ringmail scales of the dragon.

    The moment had come and there was no backing down now, the dragon stopped its eating and stared at the prince suspiciously with blue eyes.

    Vaemond reached out a hand and placed it on the dragon's head, expecting to be bitten….but no bite came.

     
  • Threadmarks
    • If this is not a prerecorded and an ongoing playthrough. I want Moondancer to have the title of ;Suneater" in someway or another. Preferrily by eating the sun.
     
    Chapter 19: First of his Name (Vaemond, Visenya)
  • Threadmarks
    • 10th Moon, 8018
    Streets of Oldtown

    Oldtown was the greatest city that Vaemond had ever seen. Winding streets of well cobbled stone made the city a maze, and bridges connecting small islands to each other further divided the city, to the extent that it could be said that Oldtown was multiple cities within a city.

    ''A man could spend a lifetime in this city and still not get the measure of it.'' Vaemond said, earning a chuckle from Lord Commander Corlys Velaryon who was riding alongside him, a long white cloak covering his shoulders and even some of his horse.

    ''It is strange to think…..my father rode down this same street…with the same purpose.'' Vaemond continued.

    ''I was in Kings Landing during his coronation…..but from what I see you have drawn a greater crowd than him.'' Corlys replied, nodding to the throngs of people that had gathered to watch the Targaryen retinue make their way down the streets towards the Starry Sept, it was truly packed, with food vendors selling their wares and children on the backs of the parents to catch a glimpse of the Targaryen procession as well as Vaemonds mothers dragon Vhagar, which flew high above in the air.

    ''I can take little credit for that……my father brought peace to Westeros, I heard it said that so long as the people of this Kingdom have peace and prosperity they don't care who sits the Iron Throne.'' Vaemond continued.

    ''Many in this crowd were suckling babes when your father took his throne…..they've known naught but peace.'' Corlys agreed.

    Vaemond glanced behind him, where his mother Visenya was riding, still dressed in the black mourning attire of a dowager queen, a blank expression on her face.

    He slowed his pace ''I know this is hard for you mother.''

    She gave the slightest of smiles ''My son is coming into his crown….It is a source of happiness for me.''

    Vaemond nodded not fully believing her, last night in his chambers of the Hightower, Nyel had confided in him after they had finished that she had seen their mother crying in her chambers. Vaemond understood, every minute spent in this city was likely salt on an open wound for his grieving mother…every step within the city bringing forth a memory of her late brother's coronation some 18 years earlier.

    The Starry Sept came into view, its black marble standing in stark contrast to the white stone and cobbled streets much of the city was built from. The street leading up to the sept was made up of sprawling manses and villas of the pious.

    ''It seems as if ones piety is determined by who their father was.'' Vaemond said pointedly as they passed the ''mansions of the pious.''

    ''It's the way of the world.'' Corlys said with a nod.

    The Targaryen procession made its way closer to the sept, riding through the large plaza of bleached white stone. This is where the lords of the realm waited, many standing in groups of their fellow regional lords…..there were hundreds of them.

    He saw more banners and sigils than he could possibly count, he made out his Hand, Orys Baratheon sharing a joke with a crowd of his Stormlords, one eyed as he was he still made for an impressive sight, turning his eyes towards the lords of the Vale he made out Lord Nestor Royce as well, smiling to his daughter Demerei, who rode in the procession along with Matarys. While some lords conversed among themselves, most of the hundreds of nobles in the courtyard stared at the young Targaryen prince, eager to catch a glimpse of the man who would be their King. With the exception of the Eyrie and Fair Isle, Vaemond had mostly remained in Kings Landing during his upbringing and most lords knew little about him.

    Vaemond made for an impressive sight, while traditionally gifts were given after the coronation, his mother had gifted him with a splendid suit of armor ahead of his coronation, black plate with a dragon made of the finest rubies money could buy, and a long red cloak flowing from the shoulders. At his side in a sheath of black leather was his fathers Valyrian steel sword Blackfyre, its ruby glinting in the sunlight. Vaemond had also done his best to grow as much of a beard as he could for his 16 years in an effort to make him look more kingly.




    The High Septon that awaited them upon the courtyard was different from the one that had presided over Aegon's coronation, with the man, known only by the moniker ''The Wise One'' having preceded the previous septon over 12 years earlier.

    The septon had short brown hair and blue eyes with a large nose, and was surrounded by the men of the Warriors Sons, who were commanded by Ser Garmon Hightowers brother Leyton.




    The septon commanded the warriors sons to help the Targaryen retinue from their horses with an authoritative command, though Vaemond dismissed his help and dismounted himself, as did his Kingsguard.

    The High Septon studied Vaemond as you approached ''You have a Kings look.''

    ''The least important quality of a King.'' Vaemond replied.

    ''And yet the one in which the most assumptions will be drawn from.'' The High Septon finished.

    ''I admired your father…..all of Westeros under one King….there were conflicts to be sure, but never before has such a period of peace graced our land.'' The man continued as they walked towards the entrance to the Starry Sept.

    ''I am sure you do not complain about your increased ability to influence the faith in all the seven Kingdoms either.'' Vaemond said curtly.

    The High Septon gave a small chuckle at that ''The faith has a duty to the people of the realm…just as much as Kings.''

    The inside of the sept was magnificent, made of black polished marble contrasted with stained glass of all colors sending rays of light streaming into the sept, Vaemond and the High Septon made their way to the raised dais of black marble while hundreds of nobles made their way into the septs, a mass of silks, doublets and sigils of houses beyond count.

    The coronation went by rather fast, the High Septon did not pray to each of the seven, and it seemed to Vaemond that the man scarcely mentioned them at all, only making cursory references while anointing Vaemond with the holy oils.

    ''Just as a knight has the duty to protect the weak and innocent…so too does a King have a duty to protect his subjects.'' The High Septon said, anointing Vaemond as a Knight.



    Following his appointment as a knight, the High Septon placed his father Aegon's crown, which he had given to Corlys Velaryon before he attempted to save his son, upon Vaemonds head, proclaiming him King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.





    Following this, the nobility of the realm gathered on the plaza of the Starry Sept for a feast to celebrate the King's Coronation, the same plaza his father had held his coronation feast near two decades prior.

    Plaza of the Starry Sept

    The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard led the long line of nobles which snaked through the plaza of the Starry Sept, winding around tables and chairs.

    The feast, which had gone on for several hours, had finished and it was now time for oaths of fealty.

    Corlys Velaryon approached the Kings table ''As commander of your Kingsguard allow me to be the first to swear my sword to you…..on behalf of my sworn brothers…my loyalty..and theirs…is yours to rely upon.''

    He then drew his sword and knelt.

    ''Rise Lord Commander….as paramount knight of the realm and my truest ally.'' Vaemond said, gesturing the older man to his feet.



    Next had come the Lord Paramounts, all of whom were present save for Vickon Greyjoy, and Brandon Stark of the North, who had sent Theon Tallhart, his castellan to swear fealty in his place, with the castellan explaining that while his liege lord would uphold his vows, he had no plans of attending the coronation due to the circumstances of King Vaemonds birth.

    Harlan Tyrell was next, his red hair rapidly fading into gray, but he still made for a dignified sight wearing a green doublet with golden silk thread.

    ''Lord Tyrell.'' Vaemond nodded.

    ''Your Grace…on behalf of my bannermen I do swear fealty to you…the knights of the Reach and all their chivalry are yours.'' The aging man said.

    Vaemond nodded ''I would have more than just your oath if you would be agreeable my lord….you served my father well for many years, even as a child that was apparent….my mother erred when she dismissed you….I can only apologize for the circumstances of your dismissal and would name you master of coin…should you accept.''

    Visenya, who was seated at her sons right reddened at that but Harlan Tyrell nodded ''It is true it was poorly done to send me away….but I accept the position your Grace…I shall return to the capitol within the month, once I finish my affairs here.''

    Next had been Orys Baratheon, who had shared a jest with the new King, while Vaemond confirmed his position as hand of the King.

    The pledges of Deria Martell and Loren Lannister were courteous and formal, if uneventful, with Loren being quiet and soft spoken and Deria Martell was clearly still mourning the death of her hedge knight husband.

    Ronnel Arryn, once his pledge was complete had promised that now that King Vaemond had officially ascended into his throne he could make preparations to end the Vales war against the Three Sisters pending a royal request. The war had been started,and all but demanded in truth by his vassals, with attempts by the Queen Regent failing to end the conflict due to lack of true royal power.

    Vaemond suspected that his royal demand to end the fighting would only serve to save face for the Knights of the Vale, who had surprisingly made few gains against the Sistermen over several months of conflict, with the Sisterman fiercely defending their land but he promised Ronell he would make arrangements for the royal command all the same.

    The final Lord Paramount to pledge loyalty was Samwell Tully who was also the news to inherit the role. Vaemond had been prepared to offer Edmyn Tully his former role as Master-of-Laws, but the Lord of the Trident had died only months prior, leaving his son as the new lord.



    Following the young Riverlords oath of fealty came the other nobles of the realm, with this taking place over several hours, with most lords oaths only taking a minute at most, yet there were still some important conversations to be had.

    At the forefront of the group was Nestor Royce, Lord of Runestone and father of Demerei Royce, who was married to the King's brother Matarys.

    The Lord of Runestone approached, dressed simply in a woolen doublet, looking every bit a warrior.

    ''Lord Royce….I witnessed your victory at the tourney of Kings Landing and even as a boy I was told of your martial prowess and reputation as the Vales master of arms and my brother has become a man of honor under your guardianship, I would offer you the same role as Marshal of my Kingdoms.'' Vaemond had told the man, and the Lord of Runestone had accepted the offer with a humble bow, stating how it would be good to be close to his daughter and future grandchildren.

    The only other appointment Vaemond had made was offering old Rickard Stokeworth the position of master of laws, the man was over 60 and likely didn't have many years left but he was well respected and would do good to cement first impressions for the new King's reign.

    The oaths of fealty went on till late in the evening, and when finished the Targaryens withdrew to their chambers in the Hightower with plans to remain in Oldtown for one more day.


    The Following Morning
    Solar of the Hightower

    The morning light lazily made its way through the glass windows of the Lord Hightowers solar, which he had graciously allowed the newly assembled small council to convene for their first meeting. It would take some time for all the lords of the small council to wrap up their affairs to be able to venture to the capitol so this would be the only meeting for quite a while, and there was much to discuss.



    When everyone had gathered, the meeting began.

    ''My lords…..I would know of the affairs of the realm, my mother has kept me apprised of the violence in the Vale and the Iron Islands, but not to the level a King must be.'' Vaemond began.

    Rickard Stokeworth nodded, he had consulted with the Maesters on the citadel to prepare himself to advise the King on such short notice.

    ''The violence in the Vale is fairly straightforward, Ronnel Arryns vassals all but demanded an attack on the Sisters but have made little strategic gains, the Sistermen even sailed to the Vale itself and took a small fortress on the fingers….but the war will end once the lords of the Vale hear they were given royal command to cease their attack.''



    Rickard continued, explaining how House Donniger of the Vale had disrupted the peace of the Vale by conquering the small island of the Paps and displacing House Elesham in the process, and had continued their aggression by attacking the Lynderlys of Snakewood, though it appeared House Lynderly was managing to hold off the aggressors.

    ''I suppose there is little we can do but let the war run its course…House Donniger has managed to find claims on the land, it is their right to wage war, we can only hope the Lynderlys hold them off '' Vaemond sighed.

    ''What of the Iron Islands….I hear they are awash in violence'' Vaemond asked.

    ''Unlike the situation in the Vale it is much harder to ascertain the cause of the fighting; it is a mixture of clan feuds and family claims, as well as religious tension as around half the populace of Orkmont has converted to the faith of the seven….Vickon Greyjoys youngest son was slain in the fighting I hear.'' His mother Visenya answered.



    ''The Ironborn have never needed an excuse to turn on eachother I suppose.'' Vaemond mused.

    ''Your father agreed that sometimes a little violence in the Islands was a good thing…keeps them occupied.'' Visenya said.

    The young King nodded ''Still we must find a way to keep them in the fold somehow….Send Lord Vickon a raven offering him the position of Master of Ships, he need not remain in the capitol permanently or even arrive until his lands find peace.''

    Grandmaester Arlan nodded and wrote down the command on a piece of parchment, he would be sending a good deal of ravens before they departed Oldtown.

    ''It seems House Yronwood has made an unlikely recovery as well, their house will live on.'' Lord Stokeworth said.
    ''I thought Lady Yronwood was past childbearing age?'' Vaemond said with surprise.

    ''She is, and her two children were born into house Vaith, her husband's house, but to ensure the survival of the house, the boy Ser Gascoyne and his sister took the name of their mothers house, House Vaith was displeased as Yronwood was set to be inherited into their family but the house will live on.'' Rickard explained.



    ''If their house continues they may seek revenge for the death of their kin.'' Vaemond said with a frown.

    Visenya shook her head ''I have been aware of Lady Yronwoods plot for a while now and had the boy watched, he does not seem the sort to seek revenge for a matter that has been settled, and what's more the Dornish learned what happens when the road of revenge is chosen.''

    Lord Tyrell shared what information he had through his trading networks in Essos, and as usual, the Free Cities were at each other's throat. The Free City of Lorath had fractured into two during a civil war, with the Island proper splitting from its overseas colonies, and a Braavosi had managed through war and intrigue to ascend to the role of Magister of Pentos and the entirety of the Pentoshi nobility had risen up against him.

    Following the briefing of affairs both close to home and in the east, Vaemond had several other matters to lay before the council.

    ''Lord Stokeworth, I want gifts sent to Brandon Stark and Deria Martell, i'll leave it up to you to decide whether its best sent in gold dragons or jewels and the like, Lord Tyrell will see you are given what you need to deliver them personally'' Vaemond commanded before continuing ''See Lord Jarman Chyttering of the Kingswood is given a gift as well, I could use support close to the capitol.




    ''It will be as you say your Grace.'' Stokeworth replied.

    ''A King should not need to send gifts to inspire loyalty…your father had no need for such ploys.'' Visenya said pointedly.

    ''Father also had a hundred foot dragon….Moondancer is but the size of a small dog, growing yes but I do not wield the same type of power as he did, nor the same respect, the purpose of gold is not only to to increase one's power and influence but also to keep it…that is what these gifts will do.''

    ''Well spoken your Grace.'' Lord Stokeworth said, earnings glare from Visenya.

    ''One final matter….it concerns the state of Dragonstone, my family's ancestral seat….it is not sufficient and I am prepared to make considerable efforts to improve the lives of those living there.'' Vaemond began.

    He turned to Grandmaester Arlan ''The Grandmaester and my mother have both advised me that the island could benefit from the introduction of roads to connect the small fishing hamlets as well as the castle of Dragonstone to the keep of Windwyrm, I remember it was a tough ride when I toured the island with my father some years ago….Lord Tyrell, I trust you will make the preparations upon your arrival to the capitol.''



    Harlan Tyrell nodded ''I shall see to it your Grace.''

    ''That is not all…..I remember the village of Derlyn well from my visit, the smallfolk were hospitable to both me and my father, despite their small means, it is in truth a tiny village but given that the smallfolk have served my ancestors for well over a century, I would see them rewarded…Lord Tyrell, have builders sent to construct a small harbor to host traders from the Narrow Sea and have a few fishing galleys built for their sustenance.'' Vaemond commanded.



    Harlan Tyrell ran a hand through his mustache ''I will see it done, but such things are expensive.''

    ''The cost is of little import, just see it done.'' Vaemond said curtly..before rising to his feet, causing the rest of the small council to do the same.

    ''Thank you for your council my lords, it has been a productive one….we can adjourn for today, and shall meet again in the capitol once you have all settled your affairs…Lord Commander Corlys, please track down my brother and have him sent in.'' Vaemond said, nodding farewells to his small council.

    Some time later, Matarys entered the chamber and Vaemond gestured to the seat in front of him.

    ''I trust you have been enjoying Oldtown…we leave upon the morrow.'' Vaemond asked his brother.

    His brother wrinkled his nose ''It is a fine city but….the hypocrisy of the faith knows no bounds….they preach of charity and good deeds but live in manses upon the steps of the sept.'' His brother said with disdain.

    ''You are right….but you must do a better job of concealing your disdain….angering the septon at Kings Landing is one thing but best keep your thoughts to yourself in this city.'' Vaemond said not unkindly and his brother nodded.

    ''You are almost a man grown….it's time to think about your future.'' Vaemond said to his younger brother, who was only one year younger than Vaemonds 16 years.

    ''I would give you Dragonstone Matarys…..it was our ancestral seat, and now it would be yours…you would have your own household, cooks, knights, handmaidens to help Demerei.'' Vaemond began but his brother interrupted him.

    ''No…No…I don't want it…I won't take it.'' Matarys said almost frantically.

    ''You are a Targaryen prince…things are expected of you.'' Vaemond said with a frown.

    ''I don't want things to be expected of me…I don't want to be a lord….I could never punish peasants or demand taxes…id be no better than the faith.'' Matarys said, the words spilling out.

    Vaemond raised his hands to calm him, a little disconcerted by his brother's outburst. ''I won't force you Matarys..just..just think about it.''

    After his brother had left, he was about to leave and make preparations for the trip back to King's Landing when Nyel entered the chamber.

    ''Your Grace.'' She said, bowing her head slightly.

    ''You don't have to call me that.'' Vaemond said, for what felt like the 100th time, his sister had been given an education centering around court life and her courtesies were deeply ingrained into her personality.

    His sister did not respond to that and had a strange look on her face.

    ''What is it?'' Vaemond asked.

    ''I have not yet given you your coronation gift…..'' Nyel began.

    Vaemond raised his eyebrows at that.

    His sister lightly laughed ''Not that…..but…I'm with child Vaemond.''

    ''How can you be sure.'' Vaemond asked.

    ''I spoke with mothers handmaiden Elayana….she confirmed it.'' Nyel replied.



    ''If we are not married soon….the lords of the realm will see the child as a bastard…..in addition to all the rest they turn their noses at…id best speak to mother.'' Vaemond said and Nyel nodded.


    Later that Day
    Solar of the Starry Sept

    A Targaryen does not beg Visenya thought as the was escorted through the halls of the Starry Sept by Ser Lyonel Hightower, commander of the Warriors Sons, older and fatter than he had been when she had last seen him but no less eloquent, though the smell of wine and beer adorned him like a cloak.

    ''The High Septon awaits inside.'' Ser Lyonel said with a bow once they came to the door and Visenya nodded.

    ''Your grace I am pleased to be able to speak to you in person….your leadership in the regency was admirable…please take a seat…there is some arbor red if you would like.'' The High Septon said, gesturing to the seat.

    Visenya made no move to sit down.

    The High Septon nodded slightly ''Here on business I see…what is it I can help you with Queen Visenya.''

    ''I will be requiring your services to conduct a wedding here in the Starry Sept.'' Visenya replied.

    ''And whose wedding would that be.'' The High Septon asked cooly.

    ''The wedding of my children….one being the King you recently placed a crown on..I trust you remember him…and spare me the sermon High Septon….I know how you and your gods feel on the matter.'' Visenya said, a hint of the dragon coming out in her tone.

    Visenya expected the High Septon to grow angry at that but instead he laughed ''My Queen, you give me an honor I do not deserve….they are hardly my gods…I cant claim ownership of them or control their actions….or even guarantee their existence.''

    Few things shocked Visenya but the High Septons nonchalant attitude towards his own faith left her silent and dumbfounded.

    The High Septon stood from his seat ''I imagine you are shocked by that my Queen…a Septon that is not even sure the gods he supposedly represents are real and if they are, are the right ones….a shock to be sure, but I suppose far more surprising things have happened.''

    ''I studied at the Citadel for two years before I became a Septon…and in that time I studied most of the gods of the east as well as the seven….marrying brother to sister may be uncommon but it hardly reaches the levels depravity that are often done in the name of religion…followers of the Black Goat of Qohor often sacrifice their own children in times of peril while servants of the Dothraki are killed when their Khal dies to serve him in the night lands…..your marriages are the least of it.'' The man said.

    ''Why become a Septon if you do not fully believe in the gods.'' Visenya asked with confusion.

    ''Because I recognize the power and the role of the faith….many times we have stopped conflicts between Kingdoms before your brothers landing, and just as the Crown has a duty to the realm and the faith so too does the faith…It is true I could refuse to marry your children, most of my fellow septons would advocate for it….but doing so would send a message that the faith does not recognize your family as our lawful rulers…and so civil war and the end of the peace your family has brought Westeros…..a state I find rather unpleasant.''

    ''So instead of all that, I will marry your children…my Warriors Sons will turn their noses and my Septons will whisper…but the faith and the crown shall keep the peace….as one and as is our duty.'' The High Septon finished.

    ''You have my thanks.'' Visenya said, scarcely believing her luck, she had expected a long drawn out negotiation.

    ''One final thing…this all seems a bit sudden, and you made no mention of this before….why so eager to marry your children.'' The High Septon asked, studying her face.

    Visenya was silent at that

    ''Ah I see….well he would hardly be the first King…I shall make preparations my Queen.'' The High Septon said with a nod.

    One week later, Nyel and Vaemond were wed in the starry sept, there were whispers of scandal and blasphemy and as the High Septon predicted the Warriors Sons turned their noses at the affair and the Septons looked on disdainfully,, but the peace held.

     
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter 20: The Plague of Kings Landing (Vaemond, Nyel) (Part 1)
  • Threadmarks
    • 8th Moon, 8020
    Tourney Grounds of Highgarden

    The tourney grounds of Highgarden were truly a paradise on earth. Warm winds from the mander and the sunset sea brought in a pleasant breeze that mixed with the orchards of Highgarden, which were immediately adjacent to the Tourney Grounds. Scents of a dozen different fruits filled the air and servants delivered fresh tarts and sweet bread to the spectators.



    Vaemond, who was seated to the right of his host on the Tyrell pavilion, inhaled the air, feeling the warm breeze on his face as the final two knights prepared for their joust.

    It had been a fairly uneventful first 2 years of Vaemonds reign. He did not share his fathers inclination for Royal Progresses, but he had made several unofficial ones throughout the realm, visiting the great seats of many houses to participate in tourneys.

    Vaemond was fast finding that he had little talent for jousting, with the current tourney being the only one in which he had progressed past the first day. Still, despite the lack of success donning his armor and entering the lists brought a feeling of adrenaline that he had not yet found a match for.

    He had participated in the tourneys of Riverrun, Casterly Rock and Castamere with limited success, though two of his Kingsguard had won the ultimate honors, with Ser Gawen Corbray taking the tourney of Casterly Rock and young Ser Roland Crakehall winning the tourney at Castamere, which Vaemond had dubbed the ''Drunkards Tourney'' due to the sheer amount of Knights that arrived to the lists drunk off of lord Castameres cellar, the tourney of Riverrun had been won by Lord Selwyn Tarth, who had dismounted Vaemonds hand Orys Baratheon.

    This current tourney of Highgarden had been called to celebrate the wedding of Theo Tyrell, the new Lord of the Reach, and Rylenna Lannister, second daughter to Lord Paramount Loren Lannister. Theos father Harlan had died after only a few weeks in the capital as master of coin and so the Lord Paramountcy of the Reach fell to his fathers former ward Theo Tyrell, a man of 36 who was just as quiet as Vaemond remembered him being from the short time they both grew up together.




    Sitting to the left of Theo Tyrell and his new bride was Loren Lannister, lord of the Westerlands. His golden hair had since retreated to white but the man made for an impressive sight, dressed splendidly in a tunic of gold trim and wearing a necklace of the largest emeralds Vaemond had ever seen, he was courteous but like their host, was a quiet and reserved man and Vaemond had spoken little with him, though he planned to change that shortly.



    Vaemond heard a playful gurgle to his right and turned to his sister Nyel, who had their infant son Aelyx on her lap, the little prince, mouth stained with the remains of a pastry clumsily reaching out to a passing butterfly.



    ''I think he likes it here.'' Nyel said with a small laugh.

    ''He's quite the little traveler already.'' Vaemond said, he had not wanted to leave his family alone in the capital so Nyel and Aelyx followed Vaemond from tourney to tourney.

    Vaemond looked at his son breathing in the warm sweet air of Highgarden and felt an unexplained twinge of sadness run through him, before a sudden remembrance entered his brain.

    ''This is where me and father were headed….after Fair Isle.'' Vaemond told Nyel, it was an eerie thought to think that, just four years after he was on his way to be hosted in Highgarden by Harlan Tyrell with his father, he had finally made it, but with a son of his own, with both Harlan Tyrell and his father dead.

    ''I wish he could have met him.'' Vaemond said, looking sadly at his son, the grandson his father had never met.
    ''He has fathers nose.'' Nyel said happily and the infant gurgled agreement.

    Before Vaemond could respond, the trumpets sounded for the final joust of the tourney.

    The participants were Ser Eustace Oakheart, a man just as tall as Ser Roland Crakehall and the heir to Old Oak, facing him was a lowborn knight called Ser Arthor, a hedge knight that commanded the city watch of the small village of Fossberry to the east of Highgarden.

    The two couldn't have looked more different, Ser Eustace was older, near 40 and dressed in armor of green plate with shining yellow gems, while Ser Arthor looked to be only a few years older than Vaemond, and was adorned in only boiled leather, chainmail and plate shoulders.

    In the end however, Ser Eustace's jeweled armor had not saved him as the Hedge Knight sent him tumbling to the ground on the fourth tilt.



    Vaemond turned to Nyel as the crowd cheered, somewhat tepidly due to few knowing anything about him ''Take note of the man's name….it may be he could serve a purpose one day, I could always use skilled knights.''

    Nyel nodded, and once the man had been given the champions purse, the nobility of the crowd withdrew to the keep of Highgarden for the feast.

    Vaemond knew he would not get a better chance than this and approached Loren Lannister, who was followed by several household knights.

    ''Lord Paramount.'' Vaemond said, causing the Lord of the Westerlands to stop and regard his much younger liege lord with serious green eyes.

    ''Your grace.'' The man said, his voice quiet and curt.

    ''I would speak with you my lord.'' Vaemond said, gesturing to a shaded area.

    The older man made no immediate move to do so, but after a period of silence nodded to his retainers.

    ''I have an offer…'' Vaemond began.

    ''You wish to make me Master of Coin.'' Loren Lannister said coolly.

    ''I do….though I confess I am surprised you seem to know my intentions.'' Vaemond responded.

    ''I am the richest man in your Kingdoms your grace…..of course I expected your offer…especially in light of Lord Tyrell's passing.'' The Lannister said.

    ''Then you will accept?'' Vaemond asked.

    Lord Loren was silent for a moment before speaking ''I see no pressing reason as to why I should….and before you speak of reward.I have wealth enough for 10 lifetimes, certainly more than you…..your grace.''

    ''Influence.'' Vaemond said simply.

    ''I have influence enough.'' The Lord of the Westerlands said.

    ''In your own lands perhaps…..but you have little in the Kingdoms….the field of fire was 20 years ago my lord…the war is over, but for two decades you have hid in Casterly Rock as the recluse of the west while the other lords of the realm gain influence and power within the new order my father created…..you are apart of the Kingdoms whether you like it or not….my lord.'' Vaemond said, using the same tone the Lord of Casterly Rock had used.

    You are not the only one that can speak sharply, Vaemond thought, studying the man.

    Loren Lannisters face did not shift or betray any anger or emotion, his eyes studying the young King like two specks of frozen cut emeralds.

    He was silent for a long moment, and Vaemond thought that perhaps he had gone too far, but the Lord of Casterly Rock gave a simple nod.

    ''I will make my preparations…..your grace.'' The man said before turning back to his household knights and making his way to the feast.

    The feast was a marvelous affair, with the bounty of the Reach being well represented in the dozens of courses served, with Vaemond scarcely able to eat another bite by the feast's end, making his way back to his chambers.

    As he dressed in a bedrobe, the door to his chambers opened and Nyel stood in the doorway, holding a small scroll with a concerned look on her face.

    Vaemond recognized the scroll as one that would be delivered by raven and approached her.

    ''What is it?'' He asked, sensing by her face he would find little joy in its message.

    ''From our mother….there's plague in King's Landing….she and Orys are doing what they can but she says that a King's leadership is needed in a time such as this.'' Nyel said.



    Vaemond took the scroll and upon reading it nodded his head ''We will leave upon the morrow.''


    Four Weeks Later
    Small Council Chamber of the Aegonfort

    ''My men are well trained your Grace….and they do their jobs to the best of their ability, but with refugees fleeing disease into the city from the Crownlands we are stretched thin…I am loathe to request more men but.''

    ''But you will do so anyways.'' Vaemond finished the thin man's sentence.

    Rhaegar Tully nodded ''If your Grace wills it…..I would not turn down more men.''

    Ser Brynden Tully, commander of the Gold Cloaks for the past 20 years had officially retired, but not before requesting that his eldest son Rhagaer and his second son be given commands within the city watch, which Vaemond had granted, Rhaegar may have been young and as thin as a corn stalk, but he had courage and honor and was a hard worker.



    Vaemond had found his naming curious and had once asked him about it, and Rhaegar had admitted that it was apart of a general trend in the Kingdoms to try and grow closer to the Targaryens and improve their prestige, with a good amount of nobles marrying silver haired women from Essos to try and gain the trait in their own families, and in the absence of his occasionally giving their children Valyrian names.

    Vaemond turned towards Loren Lannister ''See that Commander Tully is given sufficient funds for 800 new Gold Cloaks, and an additional 100 horsemen…that should be enough to keep the peace.



    The Lord of Casterly Rock gave a nod, while Harlan Tyrell had often attempted to advise the young King on the potential downsides of spending large amounts of coin, Lord Loren would simply see it done with no questions asked.

    ''That will be more than sufficient your Grace.'' Commander Rhaegar responded, bowing deeply before leaving the room.

    With that matter settled, he turned to Grandmaester Arlan.

    ''How do the apothecary's fare Grandmaester?.'' Vaemond asked, some months prior Arlan had come to him with an idea that some apothecaries be built in Kings Landing and Dragonstone to serve the common people, an idea which the King had seen funded.



    The Grandmaester ran a hand through his snow white beard ''The gods grant apothecaries some small gifts in healing…but when I suggested their construction I anticipated them being able to treat fevers, rashes and water poisoning but little more than that…I fear they can do little against the gray plague your grace…..I fear we can do little but pray for a quick end to the disease.''

    Vaemond shook his head ''I don't accept that…..we will do more than just pray Grandmaester…..I want a refuge for the sick to be built…given your architectural experience I want you to personally oversee its construction….Lord Lannister will get you what you need.''



    ''By the time it is constructed the plague will likely be over, mayhaps it would be better to build it when the pox abides….'' Arlan began.

    ''It's something that should have been done long ago, it will be delayed no longer…besides the smallfolk should see an effort is being made to protect them….doing nothing could incite riots.'' Vaemond said.

    ''But the pox.'' Arlan began again.

    ''I am sure the gods will protect you Grandmaester.'' Vaemond said curly and the aged Grandmaester nodded and slowly left the room to make preparations.

    ''That was perhaps too harsh….Grandmaester Arlan has served us faithfully….that was unworthy of him.'' Vaemond said to his small council, in truth he bore the man no ill will but his suggestion that they do nothing but pray had annoyed him.

    ''You are the King…you need not apologize.'' His mother Visenya said dismissively before continuing.

    ''What you should be concerning yourself with is how best to stop the spread of this plague…..you should shut the city gates for one, as well as the castle gates…..and as unpleasant as it sounds those afflicted with the disease should be dealt with, either banished from the city or killed.'' His mother said.

    ''I understand your point but that would only seek to start a riot mother…ill hear no more of it….we have enough problems as it is.'' Vaemond said.

    ''At least shut the castle gate Vaemond…..disease could spread like wildfire through the keep.'' Visenya said.

    Vaemond shook his head dismissively ''I won't have it said that the King of Westeros hid in his castle while his smallfolk suffered…..I will be seen.''

    He turned to Orys Baratheon ''I want a squadron of guardsman prepared for tomorrow and wagons of bread as well, I'll lead them through the city and distribute it to the smallfolk.''

    Orys ran a hand through his thick black beard, now speckled with gray ''A bold plan…and noble, but your mother speaks true….your wife is newly pregnant and your son an infant.''





    Vaemond shook his head ''Precautions will be taken, but I wont shut the gates, a King does not cower in fear.''
    Orys nodded slowly ''I'll see it done…there is another matter however….The construction on the Red Keep has stalled to a standstill with the plague, the workers are uneasy.''

    Vaemond nodded, after visiting formidable castles such Casterly Rock, Highgarden, and Castamere, he had decided to continue his fathers work on building the new keep since a timber longhall was not befitting of his family's power.

    ''I mean to see it done before my son takes the throne, make sure the workers are fed, lodged, and given half pay until the plague disperses, they are experienced and I do not wish to lose them, it would take time to replace their prowess, they've been working on the keep for years.'' Vaemond commanded and Orys nodded.

    ''Good now…'' The King began but the doors of the council chamber swung open and a courier approached.

    ''Your grace…my lords.'' The man said, pausing to collect his breath, the King raised a hand for silence, allowing the man to collect himself.

    ''Lord Meric Gaunt of the Blackwater has raised a host of near 3000 men and marches on the city, he means to name himself the new lord of King's Landing.'' The courier said.

    ''Damn the man….there's a plague of sickness in the city and now he wishes to bathe it in blood.'' Orys Baratheon said angrily.

    Vaemond stood angrily, his hands clasped around his chair ''This will not stand….I swear it…it will not…Lord Royce, make preparations.''

    The Master-at-Arms nodded ''I'll lead a contingent of calvary to his keep, his banners are on the way here so he will be easy to take him, he is an old blind man.''
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter 20: The Plague of Kings Landing (Part 2)
  • Threadmarks
    • 5 Days Later
    Throne Room of the Aegonfort

    Vaemond sat on the Iron Throne, leaning forward slightly to avoid the sharp sword points as the old man shuffled forward, leaning on a cane and helped forward by Ser Garmon Hightower due to his blindness.



    The King said nothing, and so the hall was silent as the old man slowly made his way to the throne, the tap of his cane echoing on the timber floors.

    ''Lord Maric.'' Vaemond said curtly when they finally made it in front of the throne.

    ''Your Grace.'' The old man said.

    ''I gave you a chance old man…..to call back your banners…and you refused it….you would have bathed the city in blood while the smallfolk died by the dozens from the gray plague….it seems your wits have abandoned you as well as your sight Lord Gaunt.'' Vaemond said sternly.



    ''I've served your house for 30 years…..your father himself named me the Lord of Blackwater Bay…and it seems to me that the city is within my influence, by your fathers own decree of my authority the city is mine by rights.'' The old man said.

    ''My castle commands a view of Blackwater bay, do you mean to seize it as well….you know as well as I that you have no pretense over these lands and even less so to set your men upon the gold cloaks that defend the city….you acted out of the blind ambition of a done old man and there will be consequences.'' Vaemond said bluntly.

    ''I may be an old man but neither am I a green boy….try as you might you are not your father…..you have no victories or accomplishments, you've spent the entirety of your reign being unhorsed by better men at tourneys while i've spent 30 years ruling over the Blackwater Bay boy.'' The old man said bitterly.

    Vaemond had to chuckle at that ''Boy is it…..my small council thinks that you are deserving of the severest punishment possible for your attempt to flood Kings Landing with blood while plague is at its very gates….you only seek to condemn yourself further with your own words my lord.''

    The old man grew pale at that.

    ''Nevertheless I will be merciful…I will allow you to keep your land…and more importantly your head, but you have forfeited the right to be Lord and Protector of Blackwater Bay and lost any claim to its incomes and vassals, henceforth, Lord Chelsted of Bramsfort will be Lord of the Blackwater, and you and your descendents will swear fealty to him.''




    ''Your Grace this is…'' The old man began but the young King interrupted him.

    ''Silence is likely your best course of action my lord.'' Vaemond said, and Lord Commander Corlys nodded to the Kingsguard, the old man was escorted out of the hall by Ser Garmon Hightower.

    When the old man had gone, Vaemond gestured Lord Rickard Stokeworth forward towards the throne.

    ''Lord Gaunt may be an old fool, but he spoke true…my father was well respected for his victories, but I will always be seen as an unblooded boy until I have victories of my own….I want you to raise a claim on the island of Bloodstone in the Steppestones…I mean to cross blades with the pirates of the Narrow Sea and make my reputation.''



    The old chancellor nodded ''I will make the preparations your Grace.''


    Three Weeks Later
    Prince Aelyx's Chambers

    Nyel stood at the entrance of the chambers, hands clasped together, almost to the point of shaking.

    Her brother Matarys put a comforting hand on her shoulder and Nyel took it gratefully.



    Her mother paced around outside the chambers, looking even more tired and distressed than normal ''I warned him…I warned him this would happen.''

    Nyel was silent at that, she didn't trust herself to say anything, she felt the sting of tears behind her eyes and bile at the back of her throat.

    Suddenly the chamber doors opened, and Grandmaester Arlan walked out, looking grim.

    ''Well.'' Visenya demanded.

    ''The rash has spread through most of his face…and in his nose, which constricts his breathing….he…I attempted to remove it with a liquid from Volantis that is oft used in cases like this but…he did not take well to the treatment and I dare not try again…I fear….'' The old man said, plucking at his beard, eyes filled with sadness.



    ''You fear what?'' Nyel managed to choke out, the tears threatening to overtake her.

    ''I fear it is in the god's hands now….i've instructed the High Septon and every man of faith in the city to light a candle for your son.'' Grandmaester Arlan said.

    ''You are the Grandmaester and you would do nothing but pray…save him…he is suffering.'' Matarys said in disbelief.

    ''I have done all I can…every method known to me, but his body has not responded to any of the treatments, any more and the shock could kill him.'' The Grandmaester explained.

    ''How long…how long until we know, how long must my son fight.'' Nyel asked, forcing herself to remain composed.

    Arlan remained silent at that.

    ''The queen asked you a question….you will answer her…now.'' Visenya demanded.

    ''Tonight…..will be the decisive night…if he makes it through the night then his road becomes easier…but…it is no guarantee my Queen, he is in dire straits.'' The old man answered.

    ''Where in the seven hells is my son….he should be back by now.'' Visenya demanded.

    ''The Kingswood is vast….even with the hunting party his Grace took it will take the messenger time to find him and bring him back.'' Arlan explained.

    ''All I hear from you are excuses….if my grandson dies due to your failure ill.'' Visenya began sharply before Matarys put a hand on her shoulder.

    ''I think it's best you leave us Grandmaester.'' The young prince said gently and Grandmaester Arlan withdrew.

    ''I…I must be with him.'' Nyel said, her voice thick with grief, turning to her chambers.

    ''Nyel…..there is the risk that if you go in there.'' Matarys began but was interrupted.

    ''I wont leave my son in there alone….I won't.'' Nyel said, shaking her head.

    ''It's not just you that is at risk.'' Matarys said gently, gesturing towards Nyels belly.

    ''Have you given up on Aelyx already…have you!.'' Nyel demanded, no longer able to stop the stream of tears.

    Her mother nodded ''You are the blood of the Dragon….and so is your son…go to him.''

    Nyel nodded and pushed open the door slowly, Matarys giving his mother a shocked look but the Dowager Queen paid him no mind.

    It stank of decay and medicines from across the narrow sea, but Nyel scarcely noticed, making her way to the bed where her son lay, wheezing and struggling to breath from the hard gray flesh that had taken half of his face and his nostrils.

    He looked so small laying there in the bed and scarcely seemed to notice her, his eyes a sickly yellow color, the sight of it brought the tears once again and Nyel made no effort to stop them this time, laying in the bed and taking him into her arms.

    ''My sweet boy.'' She said, clutching him close to her.

    ''My sweet boy.'' She repeated as the fatigue of the sleepless previous days and nights overpowered her.


    Several Hours Later

    Nyel was in the void once again….dark, and cold she slowly made her way forward.

    She saw a stag in the grass, with wings like a dragon and fur black as coal bleeding dark blood from a terrible wound.

    She saw a lion, old and proud open its jaws, revealing jagged teeth, as sharp and pale as the mountains of the moon in the Vale.

    A Lion does not bow The words entered her mind.

    She saw her brother's sword Blackfyre, soaked in blood while a dragon burned in the distance, embers floating to the night sky, beside the burning dragon were two cloaks, white as fresh fallen snow smoldering.

    Suddenly she heard a shout of pain and the thud of arrows, a familiar yell of pain echoing throughout her mind, her brothers.

    Then as quickly as the flurry of images appeared they went, leaving nothing but darkness and a rising sound.

    All around her a terrible wheezing sound echoed throughout the darkness.

    No..please no Nyel thought to herself, she knew what she would see next.

    She heard the shuffling noise and turned and saw the figure making his way towards her slowly.

    ''NO.'' Nyel shrieked, holding the bundle close to her, attempting to run but her feet betrayed her and she fell in the darkness while the figure made its way forward.

    The figure did not bother to wear a hood this time, its cracked gray face and yellow eyes staring at her, utterly without mercy and suddenly it was upon her.

    Nyel screamed and shrieked, kicked and bit, pledged and begged but the figure clutched at the bundle pulling, tearing sending icy tendrils through her, but still she held fast until at last her strength failed her and the bundle was pulled from her arms.

    Nyel slowly opened her eyes, gentle sunlight streaming through the glass window.

    A moment of peaceful ignorance was upon her as the warm rays of the morning sun warmed her face, she stretched and looked down.

    Her son, wrapped in a blanket, was not moving, his face caked with hard gray flesh, his yellow eyes open but not moving.

    ''Aelyx.'' She said, her voice quiet as a whisper as she tried to rouse him but to no avail.

    Years later servants would say they were woken by shrieks as if from a wounded animal, running in to see the Queen hysterically sobbing, holding the young prince with only Visenya being able to separate the two.

    The heir to the Iron Throne was dead.

    ]



    Four Days Later
    Courtyard of the Aegonfor    t

    It was a terrible thing to watch your child burn.

    Vaemond stood among the members of the court watching the small pyre and the black and red bundle burn.

    The King and his entire family were dressed in black, Nyel was silent as she had been ever since he had returned from the Kingswood, his mother looked even more pale and dark eyes than he had ever seen her, while his brother had tears streaming down his face while his hand was on his older brothers shoulder.

    You weren't here. The thought echoed through his mind for what seemed like the 100th time. Even Kings needed breaks from the stresses of ruling a plagued city and the King had organized a short hunt into the Kingswood. He had nearly killed his horse when word of his son's sickness had reached him, riding day and night but still he was too late.

    You weren't here The thought echoed through his mind again, the flickering flames of the pyre seemed to stab his own heart each time they crackled, greedily devouring the bundle.

    Long after the Septon had said the rites and the crowd slowly left the courtyard, Vaemond remained, looking at the ashes that had once been his son, only Corlys remained, standing vigil alongside him silently.

    It was dusk by the time Nyel finally came out, the last rays of the sun retreating from the sky.

    ''Vae….you will catch chill…..come inside….please.'' His sister said, her voice thick with grief and fatigue.

    ''It was my fault…I….I…my fault.'' the young King choked out before at last breaking down into tears.

    Nyel took him in her arms ''Don't ever think that…dont''

    Even his sister's words seemed weak to him, it was his fault and his sister knew it.

    You weren't here

    Vaemonds hand went to her belly, where the child that would have been their youngest was growing.

    He looked up to Corlys, still standing behind them, a pained look on his face.

    ''Corlys…..shut the gates…just shut them.'' He said.



    I will not lose you He thought, his hands on Nyels belly.

    Corlys nodded and withdrew without a word.

    Vaemond looked out to the dark seas of Blackwater Bay, the sky dark red on black water, the colors of the Targaryen prince who had been laid to rest.

    You weren't here The thought echoed through his mind once more, as constant as the tide.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • burn the doctor for failing?

    Thats something i would do. If that was my child.
     
    Chapter 21: Blood on the Stepstones(Vaemond)
  • Threadmarks
    • 10th Moon, 8021
    Docks of Kings Landing

    The galleys slowly rocked on the docks, while the sails of the ones already out to sea fluttered in the wind of the Blackwater Bay.

    The King's hair blew in the wind as he prepared to see his family off, his Kingsguard standing behind him, with the exceptions of Ser Gregor Goode and Ser Garmon Hightower who would remain in the capitol with the royal family.

    Nyel came first, holding their newborn child in her arms.

    Vaemond embraced her before at last they parted.

    The King looked at their newborn daughter, placing a hand on her bald head while the baby gurgled, looking up at him with lilac eyes while clutching at his hand with a chubby finger, causing Vaemond to smile.



    ''Your Grace…..you need not go yourself, Lord Royce is a fine commander, more than capable enough.'' Nyel said quietly.

    ''Father always led men to war himself, and I will do the same, they are only pirates Nyel.'' Vaemond said, only half paying attention as he looked at Laena, the campaign the King had organized was one against the island of Bloodstone in the Stepstones, which Rickard Stokeworth had claimed as being a rightful part of the Iron Thrones influence.



    Nyel took his hand, rather urgently, causing the King to look up.

    ''I had one of the dreams again Vae….the ones I had before father…and…and Aelyx…it was you this time.'' She said.

    That gave Vaemond pause enough ''You told me you never see things clearly in your dreams, that things are hidden by metaphors and representations.''

    ''Normally they are but…..'' Nyel responded before her voice trailed off.

    ''You saw my death?'' The King asked, his eyes returning to young Laena, who played with his hand.

    ''No but…I heard your voice, it was a cry of pain, I heard arrows as well…it was your voice im sure of it.'' Nyel continued.

    ''Nyel….I believe in your dreams..I believe you have the gift as our ancestor Daenys the Dreamer did…but you yourself have admitted you didn't even see my face…I will be careful but I wont have other men lead in my place just because you heard my voice.'' Vaemond said.

    ''Have no fear my Queen, well keep him safe.'' Ser Harold Langward said, despite the man being 40 years old, he still retained the brash arrogance of his youth.

    ''I have no doubt you will Ser Harold.'' Nyel said, realizing her brother's mind was made up.

    Matarys approached the King next, a small black dog following close behind, the King's younger brother had retained his love of animals into adulthood.

    ''One can get lonely on campaign….so i've heard….I had hoped to train him myself, hes of good stock, but..'' Matarys began, gesturing the small dog forward.

    ''Training Dragons is a bit more time consuming than hounds.'' Vaemond said with a small smile.

    His brother had finally managed to hatch one of Vhagars eggs, and unlike Moondancer, his brother's new dragon had not flown away, likely due to the fact that the White dragon with golden wings was much smaller than a normal hatchling, though much faster. His brother had named it Aelesar, in honor of the waterfall of Alyssa's Tears in the Vale where he was raised; his brother always had a soft spot for legends and tales he found moving.




    ''It can guard your tent at night, and guard your horses when it gets bigger…just…don't let it anywhere near a battle…it's not meant for fighting.'' Matarys said, adding the last part almost frantically.

    The King knelt down and gave the dog a pet behind the ears ''Knowing you it has a name.''

    ''Ah yes…Balerion.'' Matarys said, clearing his throat, which got a good laugh out of Vaemonds Kingsguard.

    ''I thank you for the gift brother…he will serve me well no doubt'' Vaemond said with a smile.



    Vaemond extended a hand to Matarys but his brother embraced him instead until at last the King gently pushed him off. He found himself thinking not for the first time how fortunate he was to have Matarys as a brother, it was true he was not the most formidable of princes and he was mocked behind his back, but Vaemond knew it was a certainty that his brother would never be a threat, either in his reign or that of his children, his brother was a kind and gentle soul, and one of the Kings greatest friends.



    ''Your Grace….we have the wind now but in a few hours…'' Corlys began and Vaemond nodded, the Lord Commander was a Velaryon after all and knew these things.

    Vaemond gave one last look to Nyel before setting out to board a galley, the fleet of 2800 men and nearly 70 ships, the strength of Dragonstone and Driftmark slowly disappearing into the Blackwater Bay.


    Two Weeks Later

    Bloodstone was an ugly keep. Built on a high hill, Its walls were made of uneven timber of rather shoddy craftsmanship. In the courtyard sat a small tower of mortared stone, a yellow banner with a red scorpion flying lazily at its top, true to its name, there were two bloodstained spikes beside the banner, with the two heads impaled. Surrounding the timber fortress were a line of unevenly placed wooden spikes to make approaching slow and difficult.

    Spears and axes were visible on the walls and to Vaemonds estimation there were at least several hundred men garrisoned inside.

    ''If Moondancer were grown he would make short work of this ''castle.'' Vaemond said ruefully, he had left behind his dragon in King's Landing, it was just under 10 feet and not ready to be ridden into battle, Vaemond had considered fighting on foot alongside it but he admitted it was not worth risking his dragon in a battle against pirates.


    ''I've no doubt he would Vaemond, but I find in war it's best to ignore what ifs and focus on what's in front of us, which as it happens is this fortress…how do you wish to proceed?'' The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard said.

    Vaemond studied the castle for a moment ''We could storm the walls, I was expecting more pirates, there can't be more than 500 in there….my mother claimed Vunatis had near 1500 men.''

    ''It would be bloody, but it could be done, I'd lead the assault myself if you will it.'' Corlys responded.

    Vaemond paused ''Wed have them over five to one if we were assault the castle…but we'd have to advance uphill and have men remove the spikes all while under fire by whatever weapons they have in there…..pirates may be rats but even a rat will fight fiercely when cornered.''

    Corlys raised his eyebrows at that, in the distance one of the pirates shouted something in Lyseni Valyrian, causing the men on the wall to taunt along with him.

    ''The other option is to starve them out, we could do it, but there's not enough forage to keep us supplied, wed have to be supplied from the Stormlands by ship…besides there's no glory in starving pirates to surrender…the whole point of this campaign is to gain my vassals respect.'' Vaemond mused.

    ''So….having considered your options…..'' Corlys asked open endedly.

    The young King furrowed his brow at that ''My uncle Orys has pledged men to the campaign, Lord Tyrell as well, we wait for reinforcements and then we storm the walls.''

    The Lord Commander smiled at that ''The correct choice, and what I would have advised…I see you've taken your father and I's lessons to heart.''

    Suddenly the impromptu war council was interrupted by Ser Roland Crakehall and a tired looking dornishman, a grim look on the tall Kingsguards face.

    ''Speak freely when you are ready friend.'' Vaemond said to the man, who had the look of a messenger.

    ''I come from Sunstone, your grace…Lord Neilyn calls for aid, near 5000 pirates have landed and set the castle to siege, my Lord Reddune has no doubt he can withstand them for a time but…'' The man said.

    ''So they've formed a coalition then…and here I was wondering why Bloodstone was undermanned.'' Vaemond said grimly.



    ''If we take Bloodstone the war is over…no doubt they understand this and wish for some plunder before the wars end….we can either continue the siege or attempt to relieve Ser Neilyn…not both…Sunstone will fall before we take Bloodstone.'' Corlys said.

    ''Lord Reddune has served my family well….I won't abandon him….we shall relieve Sunstone.'' The King replied.

    ''I'm all for a fight your Grace…but if this messenger speaks true the pirates have some 5000 men…we'd be outnumbered, and we'd have to ferry our men across to the other island a few hundred at a time.'' The Lord Commander cautioned.

    ''We will wait four days for reinforcements, Lord Tyrell and my uncle prepared for this campaign before we set sail so they should be close, but after that we march with what we have….outnumbered or not I mean to give them battle.'' Vaemond said and Corlys nodded and went to make preparations.

    Three days later a force of three thousand Reachman under command of Meryn Rowan, a powerful lord and skilled commander , landed at Bloodstone, though of course they would need a day or two to be fit to march and be ferried to Sunstone.



    Vaemond had wanted to wait for them to gain their strength and march together, but Corlys cautioned him that the Pirates could assault Sunstone any day now and they had to march fast, and the King had to admit his most trusted commander was right.

    The following day, The King and his host of near 3200 men set out to give the pirates battle, with Lord Rowan's assurances that his host would join them when they had regained their battle order.




    Four Days Later

    The small ship cut through the shallow waters of the strait, signs of conflict all around them.

    The shallow strait between the islands of Bloodstone and nearby Sunstone was too shallow and perilous to send the galleys that transported the Kings host across the narrow sea, so the Targaryen forces had to take smaller rowboats through the strait, which was filled with large craggy rocks that could easily tear the hull from a smaller ship, sending it and its armored men to the bottom in under a minute.



    The pirates were mostly formed on the island itself, either sieging the keep of Sunstone or guarding the landing spots in small roving bands, but the pirates had scrounged up a few smaller boats to oppose the Targaryen relief force as well, and evidence of their activity was littered around the shallow water, with several ships of the first wave littering the crossing, dead corpses, both pirate and Targaryen men floating in the water or washed up on small craggy rocks.

    Vaemond meant to take part in the fighting personally, but even he had admitted that it was likely a poor idea to lead the first wave of ships through the strait without knowing what to expect, and had sent the first wave ahead in a probing attack, which by the looks of it had been heavily resisted, evidenced by the several Targaryen skiffs, burned and broken in the water, though by their numbers it looked like at least some of them had made it to shore, for every destroyed Targaryen skiff there was also a pirate one to match, bearing the faded sigils of the Pirate captains Vunatis, Quanis, Vynenohr, and Sathmantes upon crude sails of ripped cloth.

    Corlys Velaryon hunched at the prow of the ship, looking carefully for any hidden rocks, despite having spent the last two decades as Lord Commander, his childhood spent sailing around Driftmark was not forgotten to him.

    ''There.'' Corlys said, pointing his sword towards a seemingly calm spot in the water.

    Ser Roland Crakehall nodded dutifully and placed his oar in the water, pushing them off of the obscured rocks, and not for the first time, Vaemond was grateful of the man's maritime experience.

    As they got closer to shore, Vaemond heard a sound in the distance, turning he saw an old grizzled man at arms, face bloody and chainmail wrent waving a spear in the air, clinging to one of the rocks that dotted the strait.

    ''We should pick him up…the tide will be coming in soon'' Ser Roland said, causing many of the dozen knights and men at arms in the small boat, all hand picked by Corlys to nod agreement.

    ''Leave him your grace….we don't have time to be rescuing every idiot that gets themselves stranded.'' Ser Gawen Corbray replied.

    Corlys looked to the King.

    Vaemond nodded ''We've room enough on the boat, and we will have need of every man when we make landfall, the battle has already begun no doubt.

    Gawen scowled at that but the men on the oars nodded and they slowly made their way towards the old man, who appeared to be wearing a faded half-cloak of the House Scales of Dragonstone, a white sword through a white snake on purple…one of around around 100 men the young Baroness of Windwyrm had contributed to the campaign.

    As they got closer, it appeared the man was not so much crying for rescue as trying to warn them, pointing his spear behind a rock.

    Vaemond was about to shout for his men to ready their arms when the pirates set their trap. A small skiff bearing the white tree on turquoise of the pirate family Vynenohor suddenly appeared from behind a rocky crag.

    They were on Vaemonds small boat faster than he could have thought, carrying rusty cutlasses, sharp dirks and whatever other weapons they had managed to steal.

    A pirate dressed in ragged furs and carrying a rusty two handed axe tried to jump on board but Ser Gawen hit him in the stomach with his valyrian steel sword Lady Forlorn ruby pommel, knocking the wind out of him and causing him to fall backwards into the water with a splash.

    His Kingsguard and the other knights and men at arms aboard were quickly embroiled in combat, Lady Forlorn and Ser Roland Crakehalls two handed axe made bloody work of any pirates that tried to board near the front, with Ser Roland delivering a strike that cleaved an unfortunate pirate near in two.

    Vaemond, Blackfyre in hand, searched for an opportunity to join the fray and soon found it when a balding pirate, dressed in a white cloth shirt and carrying a spear, was foolish enough to face him.

    The pirate to his credit was fast, and before Vaemond could respond, the man thrust his spear forward, scraping against Vaemonds black plate helm, leaving a long white gash as the enamel was scraped off.

    The young King, while not lacking for courage was not the best of fighters, his feet were slow and his angles poor, but what he lacked in technique he made up for in other qualities, Vaemond was big and strong, wore heavy plate armor and had a Valyrian steel sword, qualities his opponent lacked.



    Vaemond was ready for the next strike, wielding Blackfyre with two hands like a bastard sword, he caught the mans attack with the blade, turning the attack away from him, the pirate launched another thrust towards his unprotected face visor, but Vaemond knocked it away as well, the Valyrian steel sword almost seeming to sing as it collide with the spearpoint, a satisfying clash of metal adding to the screams of pain and battle cries around them.

    The pirate kept up the attack, leveling a fearsome thrust at the Kings breastplate, but Vaemond sidestepped and stabbed Blackfyre forward at the man's thigh, the valyrian steel cutting through muscle and sinew like a knife through cheese, the pirate gave a cry of pain and collapsed to the bloodstained deck.

    Vaemond advanced, Blackfyre at the ready ''Yield'' he commanded.

    The pirate raised his hands for a moment before suddenly rolling off the boat, disappearing in the water.

    By then the fight was over, six of the dozen men Corlys had chosen to accompany the Kingsguard were dead or heavily wounded, along with 10 pirates…a heavy cost but the pirates had taken them unawares.

    One pirate was begging for mercy on the deck but Ser Gawen gave him none, driving Lady Forlorn into the man's belly, the man's bowels failing him as he died with a long shudder.

    Ser Gawen, his face as red and bloody as his swords ruby pommel looked at Ser Roland Crakehall whose face was shocked.

    ''He yielded.'' The big Crakehall said with surprise.

    The older man shrugged ''We lost half a dozen good men fighting these scum…I don't make a habit of sparing pirates.''



    Corlys approached the King, putting a hand on his shoulder, looking at Blackfyre.

    ''I see you're blooded Vaemond.'' Corlys said, wiping his sword on a white cloth.

    The young King shook his head ''I wounded him but he got away.''

    Corlys looked overboard ''He's as good as dead anyway…come, we had best get to shore, join the vanguard, the third wave will be coming soon.'' Vaemond nodded and his Kingsguard and surviving men helped the grateful man-at-arms from the rock before continuing on.

    They faced no further ambushes as they approached the shore, which was filled with small skiffs of the Vanguard as well as several dead men, filled with arrows.

    The pirates were no fools and had positioned themselves on the heights overlooking the landing, shooting arrows at any man foolish enough to leave the safety of the cliff face; the men under the heights were readying ladders to scale the cliffs once reinforcements arrived.

    ''It will be a bloody affair to scale the cliffs.'' Vaemond said as they got closer.

    Corlys nodded ''For us and them…but we will have the heights your grace…and from there we will set their siege camp to fire.''

    Mere moments from hitting the shore, Vaemond remembered his sister's warning about arrows.

    I won't turn back now He thought with determination but all the same he grabbed the Lord Commanders shoulder ''If I should fall….Laena must be protected.''

    Corlys gave a sharp laugh at that ''You'll have four of your Kingsguard around you Vaemond…they wont even get close to you if you don't want them to….were more than a match for pirates.''

    ''And the arrows?'' Vaemond asked.

    Corlys paused at that.

    ''I'm not afraid Corlys….I just need you to promise me….you'll protect my family, and see my daughter takes the throne.'' Vaemond clarified.

    The Velaryon Kingsguard nodded silently as their ship hit the beach, joined by many ships from the third wave ''I will see your daughter on the throne should you fall.''

    Hundreds of men clambered from the skiffs and charged the cliffs, under fire by bands of pirate archers spread out along the cliff face, augmented by light infantry throwing javelins.

    Vaemond and his Kinsguard sprinted across the beach as fast as they could in plate armor, arrows whizzing by them.

    As Vaemond approached the cliff face a knight just behind him gasped and fell backwards, his throat impaled by a throwing spear by the pirates above, Vaemond continued on, there was nothing he could do.

    The King and his Kingsguard hugged the cliff face as rocks fell just in front of them.

    ''Corlys when we gain the cliffs I want you to take a few hundred men at arms and swing right, push them back until you reach the castle gates.'' Vaemond commanded and Corlys nodded.

    Corlys shouted a command and the waiting men under the cliff face set the ladders up and the assault began.

    The pirates threw stones and did their best to knock the ladders down, but the Targaryen host valiantly fought their way up, and once one group on a ladder made it up and established a foothold, it was easier for the rest to gain the cliffs.

    Vaemond led his Kingsguard personally up the ladder towards the center of the cliffs, rocks and throwing spears falling around him, though by the time they ascended the ladder most of the fighting was done.

    The pirates, true to their nature did not choose to fight to the death, and when they saw the cliffs were lost retreated to the main pirate host in front of the small castle of Sunstone, its squat whitewashed stone walls glimmering in the sun, the defenders trapped inside visible even from the cliffs. The pirates had formed a ramshackle shield wall to await the Targaryen charge.

    Vaemond nodded to Corlys who gestured several hundred men to follow him, taking them to the right of the main line which Vaemond would lead personally while Corlys swung around and took them in the right.

    The King drew his sword and was about to give his men a speech when suddenly several loud horn blasts signaled an approaching force, both pirates and the King's men looked anxiously to find its source.

    Several banners of a golden tree on white appeared from the hills behind the castles….House Rowan had arrived, and in a fine position as well.

    ''Lord Rowan must have taken his ships and landed to the west, braving the cliffs there.'' Ser Harold Langward said, clearly impressed.

    Many of the pirates began to flee immediately, while the rest formed two shield walls facing opposite directions.

    Vaemond, realizing the time for speech had passed, lifted Blackfyre in the air and charged towards Sunstone, causing his men to roar half a hundred different battle cries and follow him, while Lord Rowan advanced from behind Sunstone and Corlys took several hundred men around the flanks.

    As the King got closer to the enemy shield wall, he saw the gates of Sunstone opening, Ser Neilyn, mounted and armored leading a ragtag group of half a hundred dornish spearman and Lysene fisherman to sally out and take the pirates on the left.

    The four groups smashed into the Pirate shield walls in a ferocious cacophony of cracking shields, war cries, and yells of pain.

    A lightly armored pirate with a spear and shield faced Vaemond, thrusting his spear towards the young King, but Vaemond brought Blackfyre down in an arc to meet it, cutting off the spearhead before hacking the man straight in the middle face, sending blood everywhere.

    There was no more single combat for the King after that, the melee turned into a chaotic brawl, too crowded for Vaemond to use Blackfyre, so he picked up a shield and pressed forward, bashing and hitting anyone that got close.

    Within 10 minutes the fight was over and the Pirates fled in a dozen directions to their hidden ships, though several hundred were captured.

    The battle was a bloody affair, but the King of Westeros had his first victory at the age of 19.


    Aftermath of the Battle
    Courtyard of Sunstone


    ''You'll want to know the costs of the battle your Grace.'' Grandmaester Arlan said as Vaemond leaned over the railing overlooking the small courtyard of Sunstone.

    ''In truth I would not wish to….it was too bloody…but Ill hear the costs Grandmaester.'' Vaemond replied tiredly to the Grandmaester, who despite his advanced age insisted on personally accompanying the King to treat the wounded after the battle.



    Arlan nodded ''700 of our men and Lord Rowans were killed or heavily wounded today….many during the crossing of the strait or at the cliffs…..Lord Neilyn lost a dozen men as well sallying out''

    ''And the pirates.'' Vaemond asked solemnly, the price of the battle was higher than he had anticipated for just facing pirates.

    ''Around the same your Grace….most of their losses came in front of the keep, we also have captured near a thousand prisoners.'' Arlan finished.



    ''Have the prisoners released.'' Vaemond commanded.

    ''Your grace?'' Arlan asked.

    ''They have no use to us..and it makes for a poor King that would slaughter those that surrender to him, even pirates.'' Vaemond said.

    ''Mercy is a virtue your grace.'' Arlan said with a nod before turning to leave.

    ''Have Lord Rowan sent as well, I am in his debt.'' Vaemond commanded.

    A short time later Lord Rowan joined him on the walls, wearing only mail and a surcoat splattered with blood.

    ''I owe you a great deal Lord Rowan….your arrival took them completely unaware, if you had not arrived we would have had a harder time of breaking their shieldwall.'' Vaemond said.

    The older man shook his head ''I only did my duty your Grace….I am pleased I could play some small role in your victory.'' He responded, bowing his head slightly.

    ''You are too humble Lord Rowan….I mean to reward your good service…I hear you have two sons.'' Vaemond said.

    ''I do your Grace.'' The Reachman replied.

    ''I mean to name your second son the Lord of Bloodstone once I take it in appreciation of your houses service here, Im afraid its a paltry seat compared to Goldengrove, but I hope it will suffice and serve as a reminder of your courage to your descendents….it will remain in your family so long as it remains separate from your lands in the Reach.'' Vaemond said he had wanted to grant the newest addition to the Kingdom as a reward of some sort and Lord Rowan had proved deserving of it.

    ''You honor my family greatly my lord…I hope my son proves worthy of your trust.'' Lord Rowan said with a bow.

    ''If he is half as effective as his father Im sure he will.'' Vaemond said with a smile.

    Having had his taste of battle, Vaemond returned back to the capito, with his host, leaving the capturing of Bloodstone to his Uncle Orys Baratheon, who eventually forced the garrison to surrender due to hunger, following this the King made good on his promise and granted the former pirate fortress to Ser Myles Rowan.



     
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter 22: The Final Flight (Visenya, Vaemond, Sherrion of Cracklaw Point)
  • Threadmarks
    • 3rd Moon, 8023
    Visenya's Chambers

    It was a good memory. A warm sea breeze fell upon Visenya's face as the small galley approached the docks of Kings Landing, she had little Nyel in her arms, preparing to introduce the newest Targaryen to her family after nearly a year in Essos.

    On the docks were Aegon and Rhaenys, their features blurry in the distance, but their faces were ones deeply ingrained in Visenyas mind.

    The sight of her brother caused her sadness, a deep sadness that she could not explain even as he embraced her upon the docks.

    She remembered every word said on those docks, every joke and story exchanged, they coursed through her mind, all at once, the words faint and distant yet still she knew them by heart…the day had been one of the best of her life.

    Slowly the vision disappeared and faded to one much earlier, an event she hadn't thought about in years. The wind was heavy on her face as Vhagar raced through the clouds, her brother and Balerion to her side, the sea of Dragonstone an endless blue void beneath them.

    They had been so young then, younger than 16, just months after they had both bonded with their dragons with flight.

    They were racing from Dragonstone to Driftmark and back as they were like to do as youths, long before any thought of conquest was on their minds, they were both neck and neck with no clear winner, the rocky crags of Driftmark coming into sight.

    Her brother suddenly left the security of the leather saddle on Balerions back and stood upon it, arms outstretched to the sides, balancing against the wind.

    ''You'll break your neck you damn fool.'' Visenya shouted over the wind but her brother paid her no mind.

    Suddenly he disappeared, Balerion diving below her.

    Visenya, startled and worried, slowed down Vhagar, leaning to the side to catch a glimpse of Balerion below, and what she saw chilled her to her very core, her brother was not on his back.

    She cried out her brother's name but with no response. She urged Vhagar downwards alongside Balerion, who did not seem to be overly alarmed.

    Visenya saw a flash of movement and saw her brother climbing up from underneath Balerion, where he had been holding on to the underside of the saddle's leather straps, a grin on his face as he dangled hundreds of feet above the water.

    Relief filled her mind, though it quickly gave way to anger and she was about to make it known very clearly to her brother what she thought of his stunt before without a word he got back in the saddle and urged Balerion forward, leaving Visenya and Vhagar behind in shock.

    She gave a cry of protest and urged Vhagar to follow, eventually catching up to him, circling the island of Driftmark.

    ''Looks like I won.'' He said with a laugh.

    Visenya opened her mouth to utter some choice words about her younger brother's strategy but instead found herself laughing.

    The two laughed almost uncontrollably, almost to the point of tears. Visenya wiped her eyes and looked to her brother once more.

    He had changed, he looked older and stronger and had a more serious and graceful aura about him.

    The deep feeling of sadness returned to her until at last she remembered, the terrible truth breaking free from her mind.

    ''You died Aegon.'' Visenya said, her voice barely a whisper.

    Her brother nodded at that sadly ''I did.''

    ''Then why are you here Aegon…..ive…ive never dreamed you before, much as i've wanted to.'' Visenya said, the background changing to their old chambers in the Hightower of Oldtown.

    ''Because I chose you……and it's time to go.'' Aegon said sadly, gesturing out the window, where Balerion had appeared , her brother climbed out the window onto his back, holding out a hand to help her on.

    ''The children need me.'' Visenya said, though in her heart she longed to go with her brother.

    ''They are not children anymore….we raised them well, they are ready…..and maybe I need you as well.'' Her brother said, with all of his usual charm.

    Visenya had to laugh at that ''You remain a fool, if a royal one.'' The exact same words she had spoken to him in this very chamber.

    She took his hand and together they flew off into the distant waters of the sunset sea.

    The next morning Visenya would be found dead in her chambers, a small smile on her face and one outstretched as if clasping something.



    14 Days Later
    Courtyard of the Aegonfort

    Vaemond stood by Nyel, in the same spot they had watched their son Aelyx burn.

    Their mother was dressed splendidly in a black robe with a necklace of blood red rubies, her hands clasped around her valyrian steel sword Dark Sister, its slender blade flickering in the fire.

    The courtyard was crowded, any lord that wished to attend the funeral had been invited, Vaemond had personally wanted only a small ceremony for his immediate family to grieve, but he knew his mother would have wanted a proper funeral befitting a queen.



    Many lords and ladies had taken the King up on his offer to attend, though the crowd was limited to those that could make the trip within the two weeks following the dowager queen's death. The courtyard was packed with lords of the Crownlands, while a huge party from Crackclaw Point had arrived. Vaemond saw Loren Lannister quietly conversing with the Lord of Duskendale, while Hubard Cressey had begun the feast early, complimenting the fare to all who cared to listen, a greasy chicken leg in his hand.

    ''I never…I never thought she would die.'' Vaemond said quietly.

    Nyel, who was holding baby Laena, looked at him with sympathy.

    ''I mean…I knew…of course I did but….I never really thought….I thought she would be at our sides for years……but I was wrong.'' Vaemond said, and Nyel took his hand.

    ''Her lessons will always be with you.'' Nyel said.

    The courtyard was fairly quiet, various lords talked amongst themselves in small groups, but there was a notable lack of religious affair due to Matarys, who was wracked with grief, chasing off the septon when he tried to say a few words beside the pyre.

    When the body was almost burned Vaemond approached slowly and took Dark Sister from the pyre, the leather hilt covering had burned off but the Valyrian Steel was otherwise unscathed, a hush went over the crowd when the King picked up the sword with an ungloved hand, which would have burned any other, but Vaemond was a Targaryen and it had little effect on him.

    Ignoring the whispers from the crowd he offered the blade to Nyel.

    ''It was mothers sword…..i'm not half the warrior she was.'' Nyel said hesitantly.

    ''Your mother would want her sword and memory to be carried by her descendents.'' Their aunt Rhaenys, who had made the trip from Storms End said gently, her hands on the shoulders of the Orys Baratheons youngest daughter, who was her ward.

    ''You need it more than she does.'' Vaemond said, offering the sword again and Nyel took it in one hand, baby Laena reaching for its sharp blade before Rhaenys quickly snatched her out of Nyels hands.



    Vaemond then turned to the Septon, who was sullenly standing in the crowd after being dismissed from the ceremony by Matarys.

    ''Septon…see that the silent sisters take my mothers ashes to the Sunset Sea and have them scattered off of fair isle…she told me once she wanted to rest with my father.'' Vaemond commanded.

    ''But my lord…the ashes should be interred within the.'' The man began but the King cut him off.

    ''My mothers wishes will be respected…see it done.'' Vaemond commanded and the man nodded.

    ''Brother.'' A voice rang out and Vaemond saw Matarys, eyes red behind him.

    ''I would take them myself…..she should be brought to rest by one that loved her not some mute fanatic.'' Matarys said.

    ''Your Grace…this is most unusua.'' The poor septon began, flustered but Vaemond ran a hand through his beard thoughtfully.

    ''You are right Matarys……I will send you with her ashes with an honor guard that befits a prince and a queen…you will go with 50 knights, 100 light cavalry and Ser Garmon Hightower of the Kingsguard.'' Vaemond said, it would be good to give his younger brother a responsibility.

    The following day, Matarys would set out through the lion gate with 150 men and Ser Garmon Hightower to spread his mothers ashes in the Sunset Sea.


    Two Weeks Later
    Village of Cahors, Cracklaw Barren



    Sherion looked at the crowd in front of him, several hundred men and women were in the muddy square, the smell of pine from the surrounding pine barrens mixing with the stench of sweat, mud and pig shit.

    More will come The clawman thought as he studied the faces in the crowd, waiting for the last few people to make their way to the town center.

    They were faces he knew, fisherman and tree-fellers, pig farmers and smiths, but most importantly they were clawmen…his kin.

    ''Whas all this about thn'n Sherrion.'' Lothor the smith said and the crowd all murmured agreement.

    ''I have news kinsmen….news from the west….Visenya Targaryen is dead.'' He said, causing a loud ruckus to go through the crowd, Visenya Targaryen had been well loved by the people of Cracklaw Point.

    ''I grew up on stories of when we Clawmen were a free people….proud and independent…and I ask you why that shouldn't be once more….it were the Dragon Queen we swore our loyalty…her and her beast….but she's dead and her dragon fled….the time is right kinsmen….we shall be free again.'' Sherrion said.

    ''Them Targaryehns got more dragons 'sides Visenyas….we can't fight no dragons.'' Lothor continued.

    ''Balerion the Dread is 7 years dead, Vhagar is fled and Rhaenys is in storms end…the rest of their dragons are small.'' Sherrion explained.

    ''What d'ye suggest we do then.'' An old man in the crowd said.

    ''We rise up…we won't do Lord Hardy no trouble….he's a good lord, but we send out messengers calling for volunteers all across the point, then we march north and take a castle or two, once we show the people of the point we have a strength to us even more will flock to our banner….and I promise you this…the spoils of the claw lords t'the north will be ours…every man will have a share.'' Sherrion proclaimed loudly.

    ''And if th'King comes?'' Another asked.

    ''We use the pine bogs to our advantage, ambush them and their supply trains…he won't have the stomach for an extended war.'' Sherrion explained.

    It didn't take much more than that to convince them, glory and gold were sufficient motivators enough and soon hundreds of villagers from Cahors had flocked to Sherrions banners, and hundreds more came from every corner of the point, from Kegworth, Brizdon Port, Milluan and every village in between.

    Soon Sherrions band had reached 3000 men, who marched north to the Whispers to attempt to take the seat of House Crabb.



     
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter 23: The Battle of the Whispers (Vaemond)
  • Threadmarks
    • 6th Moon, 8023
    Small Council Chambers of the Aegonfort

    It was a different kind of small council meeting than Vaemond was used to. Instead of matters of grain stores, taxes, and appointments, the topic was one of levies, routes and commands, matters that would need to be settled in order to put down the rebellion on Crackclaw Point.

    Vaemond, Orys Baratheon, Nestor Royce and Corlys Velaryon stood over the map, arguing differing strategies.

    ''I would say that there is no need for advanced planning Vaemond….one strong host should be enough to scatter them, when they see the quality of our steel and the organization of our men they will lose the stomach for a fight….if you'd prefer not to waste your blade with these rabble give me the command and this ''rebellion'' will be over within the month. '' Corlys said confidently.

    ''Aye….we should march with haste up to the point and relieve Lord Crabb.'' Orys nodded in agreement.

    ''Even with our troops quality we should not underestimate them, they know their land better than we do.'' Lord Royce cautioned.

    ''Before we even get to our plan we first must determine the strength we must assemble, and where it should be raised….I won't raise men from King's Landing, the gray plague only just abated….hundreds are dead and I won't enforce a levy on an already depopulated area.'' Vaemond mused.

    ''A fine notion your grace…the small folk should be given time to recover.'' Nestor Royce nodded with approval.

    ''Our levy in Dragonstone is battle hardened, they fought well at Sunstone, both with you and with your father, there are even some grizzled veterans that followed my brother in taking Ghaston Gray against the Dornish.'' Corlys said.

    ''We can raise some 1600 men from Dragonstone…..good fighters they may be but we should make plans to raise more men.'' Nestor Royce said.

    ''Where do you suggest.'' Vaemond asked to no-one in particular.

    ''Lord Rolland Darklyn of Duskendale has the power to levy over 5000 men.'' Orys Baratheon said, putting a finger on the large demesne of House Darklyn, just to the north of the capitol.



    ''It is close to Crackclaw Point…it wouldn't be a long march.'' Nestor said thoughtfully.

    Vaemond nodded ''Uncle….when our business here is concluded inform Grandmaester Arlan he is to send a raven to Lord Darklyn with instructions to raise at least 2500 men.''

    Orys nodded.

    ''Also see that he is given a generous reward for his contribution to the realms security as well.'' Vaemond continued.

    Corlys bristled at that ''Vaemond….he is your sworn vassal, it is his duty and obligation to raise a portion of his levy at his king's command…his men are not mercenaries, there is no need to pay him.''

    Vaemond shook his head ''You speak true…it is his duty…but that does not change the fact this order will put a strain on his house and lands….I will see him well compensated for his trouble.''


    ''What is to be the order of battle your Grace?'' Nestor Royce asked.

    The King studied the map for a moment before responding '' Lord Royce….the host from Duskendale will be your command, when you arrive, spend a few days getting them into battle shape and train them as best you can…then you will march north through Rooks Rest and Cracklaw Barren.''

    ''I assume you will lead the forces from Dragonstone?'' Corlys asked.

    Vaemond nodded ''Once I have made my farewells I will take a ship to Dragonstone and raise 1600 men there…..following that we will sail around the point to Dyre Den where we will disembark….we shall attack from the north and Lord Royce from the south.''

    ''A fine strategy….they will be trapped at Whispers, if they retreat down the point they will be met by Lord Royce, and they won't be able to outmaneuver him due to our presence at Dyre Den.'' Corlys said, understanding immediately.




    ''What's my role in all this?'' Orys asked.

    ''I think you know well enough uncle….I need you here, ruling in my stead..with my mother dead there is no other I trust to rule the realm.'' Vaemond said.

    Orys nodded ruefully ''I would have enjoyed a good fight….but aye, you're right, my duties are here.''

    ''You all have much to attend to…you are free to make your preparations.'' Vaemond said, and Lord Royce and Orys Baratheon nodded, bowing their heads and leaving the chambers.''

    ''What of the Kingsguard?'' Corlys asked when they were alone.

    ''I want Ser Gregor Goode and Ser Gawen Corbray to remain in the capital to guard Nyel and Laena….Demerei Royce as well, my sister in law is pregnant.'' Vaemond said.



    ''Vaemond…with Ser Garmon accompanying your brother to Fair Isle the Kingsguard is spread thin…Ser Gawen is a fine fighter, better suited for the battle field then remaining in the capitol.'' Corlys said.

    ''I will not leave my family undefended…..Ser Gregor Goode is a good and loyal man, but he's lost his usefulness in battle since the tourney incident….Ser Gawen will remain with my family.'' Vaemond said, referring to an incident in which Ser Gregor had accidently killed a minor hedge knight in a small tourney, an event which affected him greatly to the point he had lost any desire to participate in any martial activities.



    ''It will be as you say…i'll tell Ser Harold and Ser Roland to make ready.'' The Lord Commander replied.

    Vaemond nodded at that ''See that you make your own preparations as well, we sail to Dragonstone on the morrow, find us a fast ship.'', his eyes once more drifting to the map.


    One Week Later
    Island of Bloodstone, the Stepstones

    ''In the name of Myles Rowan…Lord of Bloodstone…you are commanded to open this door….if you do not then there will be blood.'' The Man-at-Arms said, banging butt of his spear on the shack's wooden door.




    There was no answer.

    The man looked to Lord Myles who gave a curt nod, and two men with long axes approached the door, and began to hack at it, sending splinters flying everywhere.

    The Lord of Bloodstone drew his sword from his ornate scabbard, which was made of white leather with golden trim; the men of his fathers household guard, who had been lent to him, did the same, forming a semi-circle around the entrance.

    The ramshackle door was no match for castle forged steel, and soon crashed inwards with a thud, sending dust and wood splinters everywhere, and as the door fell to the ground…the pirates ran out.

    The first pirate, garbed in a shirt of rusty iron scales and armed with a dirk surprised the first man with the longaxe, stabbing him through the hand with his knife, but the second man thrust the butt of the longax into the back of the man's neck with a sickening thud, causing the man to emit a choking gasp and fall to the ground, convulsing in the mud.

    The second man did not have much time to savor in his victory as he was immediately shoved to the ground by one of the pirates running out of the door, who were making a desperate attempt to break free and run to the nearby coast, where they no doubt had a skiff or rowboat hidden away.

    One of the crossbowmen that Myles had posted behind the main line fired a quarrel at another pirate, holding a wooden club, but the pirate fell to the ground, the quarrel whizzing above him harmlessly and hitting the wooden shack.

    The pirate then stumbled to his feet, covered in mud and attempted to run around the main line but the Lord of Bloodstone intercepted him, sword in hand.

    The pirate suddenly threw a handful of the mud at Myles, hitting him square in the face, stinging his eyes and covering his long golden locks.

    The Lord of Bloodstone stumbled backwards as the pirate charged forward raising his wooden cudgel in a clumsy strike, Myles, with one of his eyes still covered in mud barely managed to get his own sword up and turn the strike away, though he lost his balance and almost tripped over a rock.

    ''Filthy fucking pirate.'' Myles spat venomously, running an engraved gauntlet over his eyes to clear the mud away.

    The pirate launched another strike with his club, mere inches from the lord's face, who barely was able to step back.

    He was ready for the next strike though, as the pirate raised his makeshift weapon once more, Myles brought his pommel upwards into the man's fingers with a crunch of heavy gold on bone.

    The man cried out, dropping his club and falling to his knees before Myles thrust a sword clear through the man's throat, pulling it out and kicking him in the face where he fell to his back, dead.

    The other pirates had not had much more luck, all but one laying dead or dying outside of the shack.

    ''Mercy lord…..I beg you.'' The pirate said, a pleading grimace exposing his yellowed teeth.

    Myles turned to his borrowed retinue ''Take this pirate back to Bloodstone and hang him from the tower with the others that surrendered yesterday….there will be no mercy for criminals on my island.''

    ''You can't.'' The man screeched but Myles kicked him into the mud, where his man dragged him off to a horse.

    The Lord of Bloodstone ran a hand through his hair, angrily dusting off as much mud as he could.

    I'll need to bathe again Myles thought with annoyance as he gingerly stepped over a corpse, it was no easy matter getting fresh water brought for bathing, Myles found salt water irritating on the skin.

    When he returned, the towerhouse of the small castle seemed to almost be moving as near half a dozen corpses hung from poles at its top, swaying in the breeze.

    The next few days brought much of the same to the island. The pirates that had been foolish enough to remain on the island after its conquest were hunted down and slaughtered by the men Myles Rowans father had sent from Goldengrove, with the only surviving inhabitants of the island being a small number of Lysene fishermen and any pirates clever enough to hide their former profession.

    Soon after, Lord Rowan declared the island purged of pirates, making it known the island was looking for new settlers from Westeros.



    News of the pirate purge on Bloodstone soon reached neighboring Sunstone however, whose population was still largely made up of former pirates. Fearing that the same fate might await them, the populace of Sunstone rose up in rebellion with the intentions of freeing the island from the authority of the Seven Kingdoms.



    20th of 8th Moon, 8023
    Marshland of the Whispers

    ''No doubt theyre holed up at the Whispers.'' Ser Theonald said as King Vaemond and his retinue looked into the marsh.

    ''The Whispers?'' Vaemond asked with confusion, he had thought the name referred to the region House Crabb not a specific location.

    ''An old castle….it were the seat of Ser Clarence Crabb….its been abandoned near 1000 years….once their scouts caught wind o'yer advance they fled their siege camp and ran into the marsh.'' The clawman hedge knight said, flashing a crooked smile.

    Vaemond nodded and looked into the marsh, which did not look terribly inviting.


    When the King and the forces from Dragonstone had arrived at Dyre Den there had been a raven waiting for him, detailing the uprising on Sunstone. Vaemond had then sent word to Nestor Royce, who was leading the levy of Duskendale to sail to Sunstone to fight the pirates rather than reinforce the campaign against the rebels of Cracklaw Barren.

    As it would turn out Lord Royces men would not even be needed. Lord Fredder Brune, son of the Late Lord Alyn Brune who had been one of King Aegon's loyal followers, had raised some 2200 men to join with Vaemonds force to crush the rebels, who were apparently hiding in the abandoned castle, with the exception of a small force of raiders.

    The rebels had managed to get their hands on some horses and while advancing to the Whispers, Vaemond had heard tell of near 100 rebel horsemen riding around the point stealing from small hamlets, burning crops and otherwise making a nuisance of themselves. Vaemond had dispatched Corlys Velaryon with a force of 80 freeriders and 10 knights, both from Dragonstone and Dyre Den to deal with them, though that left him with only two Kinsguard.

    ''We will have a hard time of it getting through the marsh….but we press onwards…on foot I think, horses won't do us much good.'' Vaemond mused and Ser Theoden nodded.

    With Vaemond and his two Kingsguard at the front, the combined force of some 3700 men made their way into the marsh on foot, much to the dismay of many of the knights of the company.


    Three Hours Later

    Vaemonds prediction that it would be hard going was an accurate one. It took them three hours to make it through the swampland, and while the distance traveled had not been great it had been a difficult crossing.

    Spirits had been high during the first hour of the voyage, with many a joke being exchanged throughout the column, while Ser Harold Langward had even attempted to compose a ballad of their march, though he spent much of the march muttering to himself trying to find a rhyme for the whispers.


    After the second hour however the jokes had gradually faded as men concentrated on their footing, following the route of the men in front of them and even Vaemond had to cede his position at the front of the column to let Lord Brunes scouts lead them through the uneven ground.

    Not long after that the smell of the narrow sea hit them, along with the overwhelming scent of pine trees and sickly sweet flowers of the marsh. It seemed to grow darker and even Vaemond had to admit it felt like they were being watched.

    ''This is an ancient land.'' Vaemond had remarked to Ser Roland Crakehall, who had spent much of the march quietly reciting prayers to the warrior.

    They heard it before they saw it.

    A harsh whispering noise, high pitched and constant.

    ''Were close your Grace.'' Ser Theonald said when the ghostly noise became apparent.

    ''What is that sound.'' Vaemond asked.

    ''The winds of the narrow sea running through the abandoned castle….or if you listen to the local Clawmen its the sound of Clarence Crabbs ghost, wandering his seat and whistling a ballad.'' The young hedge knight responded.

    ''You are not a Clawman?'' Vaemond asked.

    The man shook his head ''My father Harlon commanded the Wolf's Den in White Harbor in the time of your father…..after Ser Warrick Manderly and his father butchered your fathers retinue my father resigned from his post in disgust and came here, he served Lord Alyn Brune as a hedge knight…and his son inherited me.''



    ''Small world.'' Vaemond had remarked, but there had been no further talk after that as the unsettling sound continued.

    It wasn't long until the narrow sea came into view, vast and open. The ruined castle of the Whispers lay in ruins along a cliff, pine trees and moss overgrowing and growing on the old lichen covered stone. There was also a Weirwood tree, bark as white as snow growing in the center of the rubble.



    The castle may have been abandoned for a thousand years but it was not abandoned now. Hundreds of men occupied what was left of the old castle, archers had found positions in half collapsed towers while peasants wielding a collection of pitchforks, spears and axes had formed a line in front of the ruins, prepared to make their stand.

    Vaemond walked forward slightly and stopped just on the edge of arrow range.

    ''I HAVE NO WISH TO FIGHT ANYONE OF YOU….BUT A FIGHT IS COMING…ONE YOU HAVE NO CHANCE OF WINNING…ANY MAN THAT WANTS TO LEAVE MAY DO SO, TAKE WHATEVER MAKESHIFT WEAPONS YOU HAVE AND LEAVE THIS PLACE.'' Vaemond shouted, though he was not sure how much of his message carried over the insistent whispering of the wind but he would make an attempt to negotiate nonetheless.

    A few of the defenders exchanged uncertain looks but a loud voice cut through the wind like hot steel on butter, threatening that any man that ran would get an arrow in his back, which put an end to most of the discussion Vaemond could not determine where the voice was coming from but he guessed it had to have been their leader.

    When it became clear he would not be able to dislodge them from their positions through diplomacy, the young King was forced to admit that the rebellion could only be put down through force of arms.

    Vaemond drew Blackfyre and raised it above his head, the clawmen trumpeter of Lord Brune signaling a charge, the Battle of the Whispers had begun.



    The vanguard was led by Ser Theonald, consisting of well over 150 dismounted knights, who faced fire by the archers in the towers, though it was irregular and poorly organized, the peasants' inexperience in warfare showing.

    Vaemond led the left flank personally, his two Kinsguard close behind him as they charged the ruins, while Vaemond sent a small force of 40 men at arms to try and sneak around the castle and take the defenders in the rear in the confusion of the main charge.

    It was then that the rebels played their trick.

    The clawmen scouts had become aware of the fact that the Targaryen host would be coming to them dismounted and had somehow managed to get near 200 horses through the marsh, no doubt expecting that the Targaryens had assumed that their 100 raiders made up the extent of their calvary forces.

    It was a surprise to be sure when near 200 light horsemen came thundering out of the ruins but Vaemond reacted quickly and managed to form a shield wall before the riders were upon them.

    A rider in a leather jerkin carrying a spear and a dented wooden shield was the first to make contact with the line, but Vaemond, wielding Blackfyre in two hands, slashed at the man's horse, hitting it square in the neck.

    The horse collapsed with a horrible noise, sending the man tumbling to the ground.

    The man shared a similar fate to his horse as before he could get up Vaemond slashed Blackfyre across his neck, sending a spray of blood everywhere.

    Beside him his Kinsguard delivered red ruin all around him, Ser Harold Langwards sword flashed side to side, while Ser Roland Crakehalls two handed axe struck down man after man from their horse.

    The rebels may have procured a large amount of horses but that did not make them warriors and when it was clear that they had not surprised their enemies to a decisive degree they began to flee, leaving nearly three dozen of their comrades dead.

    Vaemond spared a glance to the center and saw that the knights had gained the walls of the ruins and were pushing the rebels to the sea, causing even more rebels to flee.

    Out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed a flash of movement and saw a band of dismounted rebels that had managed to ambush a Brune man-at-arms, hacking him to death before fleeing into the nearby swamps.

    ''There!'' Vaemond cried out to his Kingsguard, pointing Blackfyre at the men and without even looking behind him ran after them.

    Upon seeing him they fled and Vaemond followed them, pushing a branch out of the way as he waded through the muck.

    ''Your Grace.'' A voice behind him called out faintly, no doubt one of his Kingsguard, but in his haste Vaemond did not notice it came from far behind him.

    This is foolish Vaemond thought to himself as he made his way through the swamp, but even with the thought at the back of his mind he pressed on, he would not let them get away, given that they had been calvary there was a chance one of them was the rebel leader himself.

    Suddenly they were around him, four of them armed with a collection of weapons, slowly forming a circle around him, closing in.

    Vaemond was not overly concerned and was about to call for Ser Harold and Ser Roland to form a line with him but then he suddenly realized they were nowhere to be seen.

    With a curse he realized that he must have outpaced his Kingsguard in all his weaving and turning through the swamp, he wouldn't be able to rely on their help.

    ''Whas a Dragon like you doin all alone in the swamps eh?'' A rebel in a torn jerkin carrying a rusty dirk said, slowly advancing.

    ''That's a fine sword you got there boy.'' Another dressed in sheepskin said, raising his hatchet.

    ''You can't take us all on…..we have you four to one.'' An older one with a broken nose said, wooden club in hand.

    ''Perhaps not….but I won't be the only one to fall.'' Vaemond said, holding Blackfyre out in front of him.

    The last one, armed with an ax and shield, who appeared to be their leader nodded ''Finish him.''

    Afterwards Vaemond could not say how he had done it, he had never been a skilled fighter but it was as if someone else had taken control, for in those moments his footwork was without any errors and his senses were enhanced.

    The leader, leading the way, raised his ax and brought it down towards Vaemond, who quickly turned to his side and slammed into the man with a shoulder, knocking him into the muck before the strike could land.

    The one with the hatchet had advanced from behind and hacked his axe at the back of Vaemonds neck, hitting his black plate gorget with a loud clang and sending him stumbling forward, unbalanced but otherwise unharmed.

    The King somehow kept his balance and slashed backwards, wheeling around, catching the man in one of his fingers.

    Howling with pain the man launched a wild attack but Vaemond lunged forward under the strike, getting behind the man before hacking him in the back with a sickening crunch. The man grunted and fell face first.

    The leader, back on his feet launched an attack but Vaemond turned the strike away with the clash of steel on steel, launching his own thrust at the man's stomach with all his might, though the man got his shield up just in time though the force of the blow sent him backwards.

    With the most dangerous of the men temporarily dealt with, Vaemond turned to the man with the knife who had been hesitantly hovering on the outskirts of the melee.

    The man slashed the rusty dirk forward and Vaemond somehow managed to catch the man's arm with one of his hands with an iron grip before he fell forward with Blackfyre in front of him, impaling the man on the ground through the stomach.

    The one with the broken nose ran forward with a wordless cry and brought down the wooden club towards Vaemond, who rolled out of the way and shot out a leg, tripping the man.

    Vaemond managed to get to his feet and walked over to the man bringing Blackfyre up in the air and bringing the Valyrian Steel straight down into the man's chest with a grunt, the man's legs convulsing wildly.

    It was just Vaemond and the leader now, the King was finally beginning to feel the effects of the fight, the back of his neck aching where he had been struck by the man in the sheepskin while his legs felt like cement due to the weight of his plate armor.

    He forced himself to remain focused as the leader launched an upwards strike with his ax at Vaemonds neck, who knocked it away with Blackfyre.

    The King's foe had an emotionless expression on his face, forehead beaded in sweat, both men knew the stakes.

    Vaemond ducked behind a tree as the man wildly hacked forward, the axe hitting the pine tree in an explosion of sap and splinters.

    The rebel clawman withdrew it quickly and continued the attack but Vaemond hit the man's strike, sending a clamor down the man's arm and forcing him back.

    The King chose that moment to strike, hacking downwards at the man's shoulder, nearly shearing the entire arm off at the shoulder blade.

    The man screamed and fell to the ground, blood gushing everywhere.

    Vaemond looked at the man before slowly walking off, leaving the man to bleed out in peace.

    A feeling of utter exhaustion hit the King then and he felt as if he could not take another step.

    He sat down, leaning against the tree, the bodies of the four men around him.




    It was there that his Kingsguard found him, exhausted and tired.

    ''The day is ours your Grace…..songs will be sung of your valor.'' Ser Harold Langward had said.

    Vaemond had been quiet at that for a moment, his eyes trained on the four bodies in the swamp before shaking his head ''There's no glory in killing your own subjects.''

    The battle of the Whispers would be a decisive victory, with the Targaryens and their Brune allies losing under 200 men, while the rebels would lose near 1400 men, though their leader Sherrion would escape the battle, never to be seen again.



    Corlys Velaryon would also bring the 100 raiders prowling the countryside to heel, at the cost of 22 free riders and 3 knights. Following this defeat the surviving rebels would melt back into the countryside, where Vaemond did not attempt to pursue them. The conflict was over.

    Meanwhile, on Sunstone, Lord Nestor Royce would put down the pirate rebellion with the levies of Duskendale, albeit in a much less glorious fashion, the pirates would ambush the forces of Lord Royce and Lord Myles Rowan from the mountains of the island and very nearly succeed in driving him back but the levies of Duskendale, while not performing particularly well would do just enough to hold their ground.



    Following this, the Lysene pirate would be banished to the Night's Watch, and the pirates that survived the battle would realize Sunstone was lost to them and flee to other islands, leaving both Bloodstone and Sunstone free of the rats of the sea.


     
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter 24: A Lion Does Not Bow (Vaemond, Loren Lannister, Matarys)
  • Threadmarks
    • 1st of 9th Moon, 8023
    Forests of the Kingswood

    The smell of dirt, sap, moss and damp leaves filled the air as the King and his retinue made their way through the Kingswood at a leisurely pace.

    The Kingswood was different than the pine bogs of Crackclaw Point, and in a welcome way. It was younger and more open, much of the forest had been burned down in his fathers conquest by his aunt Rhaenys dragon, and as such many of the trees were young and fresh.

    ''The peasants have killed near all the game.'' Ser Gawen Corbray said with frustration, Vaemond was not overly strict with regulating hunting on the Kingswood, and even allowed the peasants that inhabited the woods to hunt to their heart's content.''

    ''You exaggerate Ser Gawen, we are barely into the depths of the Kingswood….be patient'' Vaemond replied, they were only a few hours into the hunt.

    The King had realized he and his Kingsguard needed a break and had organized a week-long expedition into the Kingswood. It was his first time back in the forests since he had gotten word of his son Aelyx's illness, he had expected there to be some eerie feelings upon returning but he had not anticipated the dreams, which had kept him from getting a good sleep and made him somewhat irritable.

    ''Aye….everyone knows the biggest game is found in the center of the forest, and if you dont stop your whining then you will scare off all the game.'' Ser Roland Crakehall, an avid hunter, said to the older man with annoyance.


    Ser Gawen Corbray bristled at that and was about to respond when Roland pointed into the brush.

    ''There, I saw a flash of movement.'' Ser Roland said.

    Vaemond nodded to the dismounted huntsmen, who approached the brush with boar spears, waiting for the King's signal to advance.

    ''It looked taller than a boar….perhaps a red hart, I just saw a flash of movement.'' Ser Roland said, studying the forest for any further signs of movement.

    After a few moments when no further movement was seen, the King nodded ''Whatever it is, it has the sense to remain hidden, I think it's time to get a closer look.''

    Vaemond began to dismount, planning to grab one of the boar spears from the huntsman when suddenly there was a whizzing sound and the King felt a woosh of air go by his head as he dismounted.

    His horse gave a horrible screech, crumpling to its knees, and it was just then that Vaemond understood, seeing a feathered arrow protruding from its neck.

    ''Protect the King!.'' Shouted Corlys Velaryon, already dismounted and unslinging his kite shield from his horse.

    His Kingsguard formed a wall around him, looking into the forests, but there was no sound and no movement, only the call of a distant woodpecker.

    ''He's fled…..likely it's too late but lets pursue him but we should give it an attempt.'' Vaemond said, gently pushing past his Kingsguard and heading into the forest.

    I should have brought the hounds Vaemond thought ruefully as they slowly made their way through the forest in search of the archer. Vaemond was not a hunter that enjoyed the use of hounds, the hunt was over too quick, too easy, the King enjoyed slowly stalking game as opposed to wildly chasing it through the brush but he had to admit they would have proven useful in this current situation.

    The woods opened up in front of them, countless directions where the archer could have fled.



    ''We've lost him….he's crossed the creek, we've no way of knowing where'' Vaemond was forced to admit as they came to a riverbank, even if they had brought hounds the man's scent would have been taken by the shallow riverbed.

    ''Not quite your Grace.'' Roland Crakehall said with a grin, the big man hunching down, his hands on the wet leafy ground.

    ''Speak your mind.'' Vaemond said with interest.

    ''He didn't cross the river, look at this patch of leaves that's been disturbed, he kicked them in a panic to get away.'' Roland said, getting up and dusting the leaves off of his armor.

    ''He could have done that on purpose, to throw us off his scent.'' Corlys said with a grunt.

    ''Only one way to find out.'' Vaemond said, gesturing to his Kingsguard to follow the Riverbank.

    They followed it for a few minutes, Ser Roland pointing out further signs of the man's flight that gave credence to the idea he had not crossed the river.

    As they continued down the riverbank , Ser Roland, at the head of the column, suddenly stopped.

    ''Hes close.'' He said.

    ''How do you know…..some old hunting trick?'' Vaemond asked.

    The big man smiled at the muddy riverbank, which had a pair of fresh footprints leading down to a log beside the creek.

    Gawen Corbray, Lady Forlorn in hand, scampered down the decline towards the log.

    The archer, knowing the game was up, suddenly appeared from behind the log and loosed an arrow.

    Ser Gawen, with impressive agility managed to roll to the side, the arrow thudding harmlessly against the mud embankment.

    The would-be assassin desperately tried to nock another arrow, but the Kingsguard was quickly upon him.

    ''We need him alive!'' Vaemond shouted as he and the rest of the Kingsguard hurried down the embankment.

    Gawen punched the man full in the nose with a gauntlet of plate steel, the man desperately tried to wriggle away but Ser Gawens fist met him straight in the teeth, ending any notions of an escape.

    The man coughed a pink mixture of blood and teeth to the dirt, while Ser Gawen drew a broad bladed dagger from his sword belt and put it under the man's eye.

    ''Talk or I take your eye.'' Ser Gawen hissed.

    Vaemond, who had finally made it down the embankment with the rest of his Kinsguard approached the man, a hand on Blackfyre.

    ''I suggest you heed Ser Gawens warning assassin….I give you my word if you tell it true i'll allow you to take the black…though i fear they would find an archer of your….skill of little use.'' Vaemond said.

    Ser Gawen pressed the dagger closer to the man's eye ''Say the word.''

    ''Tell it all and tell it true….or I will allow Ser Gawen Corbray to do as he wishes.'' Vaemond warned.

    ''Lord Lannister…..it was Lord Lannister.'' The man said breathlessly.



    2 Weeks Later
    Casterly Rock, Seat of House Lannister





    Loren Lannister stood on the balcony of the tower, overlooking the vastness of the Sunset Sea, the sky as golden as the golden lion that adorned the banners of the tower.

    Sumner Crakehall stood behind him,strong, broad shouldered and nearly seven feet tall he stood, his long white hair shaking in the wind. Lord Rickard Reyne was present as well, a huge white beard covering his fleshy chin and jowls, though they did little to hide the scars Lord Reyne had sustained upon the field of fire over two decades prior.





    ''A raven from the capitol….I trust you know its contents'' Sumner Crakehall said curtly.

    Loren nodded at that, his eyes not leaving the vastness of the sunset sea.

    ''I shall read it all the same.'' Crakehall said, unfurling the scroll.

    ''By the order of King Vaemond Targaryen, first of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, Lord Paramount Loren Lannister, Lord of the Westerlands and Warden of the West is summoned to King's Landing to stand before the charge of attempting to murder his Grace, the King. If Lord Paramount Loren Lannister heeds these summons he will be given the opportunity to take the black and serve as a brother of the Night's Watch, forfeiting all lands and titles to his firstborn son Damon Lannister, failure to present himself will be seen as an act of defiance leading to war.'' Sumner Crakehall read slowly.




    ''Lord Paramount……'' Loren began quietly, his voice dripping with venom.

    ''For two decades I have suffered that damnable title…..for two decades I have bided my time'' He continued before pausing, his eyes gazing at a passing ship.

    ''I was a King once….before my crown was taken from me upon the field of fire, but the Targaryen dragons are weak, Balerion and Aegon were swallowed by our own seas, the boy kings mothers is dead and her dragon roams free, and his aunt lays dying of cancer in Storms End.'' Loren continued.

    ''The three children all have dragons of their own.'' Sumner replied.

    ''Suckling babes, if the boy is fool enough to bring them to battle a lance to their heart will end their line once and for all.'' Rickard Reyne said confidently.
    ''Vaemond offers me my life, a place among the night's watch, no doubt his idea of charity…but he seems to have forgotten that the Lannisters always pay their debts, and I owe the crown a large debt for the field of fire…I do not take what life is offered…I shall make my own.'' Loren said.

    ''My lord?'' Sumner asked.

    ''Send a raven to Vaemond Targaryen that Loren Lannister, King of the Rock and Westerlands denies his summons, inform him that he is to return my old crown to Casterly Rock within the fortnight in exchange for my hostage….and inform him if he is so eager for a war then he is free to march west, and be the second Targaryen King to meet his end here.'' The King of the Rock said, a hint of a smile forming on his aged face.



    ''Shall I raise the banners Loren?'' Rickard Reyne said, a look of approval on his face.

    Loren nodded ''All fifty thousand of them.''

    ''You mentioned a hostage?'' Sumner Crakehall said with confusion.

    ''Matarys Targaryen is currently in Fair Isle being hosted by Lord Robert Farman, send a raven to Lord Farman and have him seize the princeling. I will exchange him for the crown of the Rock which the Targaryens stole from me…..after he spends the war in a dungeon of course.'' Loren said.

    ''A clever plan….the lamb has wandered into the snakepit.'' Sumner said with a chuckle.

    ''The Lion Pit….Lord Crakehall…the Lion pit.'' Loren responded, the hint of a smile returning to his face.

    ''Rickard…you have many preparations to make….Lord Crakehall, summon Maester Kenrick, he will be writing a great many ravens today…if it comes to war with young Vaemond Targaryen, the Westerlands will not stand alone.''




    Both lords nodded and went to see to their tasks.

    Loren returned to the balcony, the golden sky mixing with the red horizon, the colors of his house.

    The Lion does not bow Loren Lannister thought to himself as the passing ship made its way further out to sea.


    Two Days Later
    Feast Hall of Faircastle, Fair Isle

    Lord Farman kept a fine table. New courses being served as frequently as waves on a beach. Breaded cod, jellied eels, oysters, and roasted seabirds making up much of the feast's courses, served alongside warm bread.

    Matarys had always been an individual of exceptional appetite, and that appetite had not diminished now that he sat as the guest of honor within Fair Isle, which meant Matarys was served the courses second only to Lord Farman and his wife, Lady Tarbeck, the choicest parts of the courses still remaining.



    Matarys enjoyed each feast thoroughly, gorging himself until the point of nausea and sometimes beyond, yet thoroughly replenished by the time the next day's feast came around. Ser Garmon Hightower, his Kingsguard escort sat at his right, dutifully making sure to have at least one bite of each course to show his appreciation to their host.

    It was to be their last feast, Matarys had scattered his mothers ashes in the sunset sea on one of Lord Farmans galeys the previous day, and they would be leaving upon the morrow. It had been an eerie feeling to be just miles from where his father had died, holding what remained of his mother. Matarys had sensed that he would be afflicted by terrible dreams and had taken some essence of nightshade from Maester Ottyn to avoid them.

    The aforementioned Maester, a man with a thick brown beard approached Lord Farman and whispered in his ear.

    Lord Farman stood suddenly and turned to Matarys and Ser Garmon ''Pray excuse me.''

    Matarys paid him little mind, that just meant there was one less person to share the next course with, Ser Garmon Hightower watched him leave with suspicion however.

    ''It must be an important raven to make Lord Farman to forget his courtesies, it is most irregular to leave ones guests at table.'' The Kingsguard said quietly.

    ''Perhaps he had to shit.'' Matarys said between bites, a bit too loudly and Lady Tarbeck looked at him oddly.

    Ser Garmon did not look convinced but dutifully cut himself a small portion of the next course of lobster.

    Matarys found himself thinking of his unborn child, wondering if it would be a boy or a girl.

    I will love them whatever it is Matarys swore to himself.

    Lord Farman had returned, his face paler than usual.



    ''Lord Matarys….there was a raven, I would ask you to join me in my solar.'' The man said quietly.

    Matarys struggled out from his chair, his belt buckle straining, Ser Garmon Hightower followed close behind.

    The trio made their way up a circling flight of stairs to Lord Farmans solar, which had an open air window overlooking the sunset sea.

    ''I received a raven from my liege lord Loren Lannister in Casterly Rock…..a raven detailing certain instructions.'' Lord Farman said.

    ''Instructions?'' Matarys inquired.

    ''Instructions to take you into custody, and deliver you to Casterly Rock where you will be imprisoned….it shall likely come to war between your brother and my liege lord…you are to be a hostage.'' Lord Farman said, grabbing the back of his chair, which was topped by two small silver ships with two hands.

    Matarys had no idea of how to respond to that, and found himself studying the small specks of the feast that still adorned Lord Farmans jerkin.

    Ser Garmon Hightower responded first ''You understand that by warning me of this beforehand, as a member of the Kingsguard I am honor bound to defend Prince Matarys, even if it should it mean my death.''

    ''I admire your dedication to your oath Ser Garmon.'' Lord Farman said.

    Suddenly a realization came to Matarys's mind ''When we came to your hall, you welcomed us with bread and salt, we are protected by guest right.''

    Lord Farman gave a small nod ''I am aware Prince…..It is because of this I will not be following my Lord of Lannisters instructions.''

    ''You won't?'' Matarys said with relief.

    Lord Farman made his way to the window ''I am a man that takes my oaths very seriously, I swore an oath to Loren Lannister as his vassal….but I also swore an oath to your brother the King as well…..and to your father.''

    ''You knew him?'' Matarys asked.

    Lord Farman nodded slowly ''My castle was the last place your father visited before he perished…..I was the last of his vassals he ever conversed with…..I admired him, in the short time I knew him I found him to be a just and wise King…and I will not repay the honor he showed my house with his visit by betraying him and condemning his son to a dungeon cell in the bowels of Casterly Rock.''

    ''Your words are a testament to your temperament Lord Farman.'' Ser Garmon said graciously.

    ''I shall arrange a fishing sloop to take both you and Ser Garmon north to Seaguard in the Riverlands….and I shall inform Lord Lannister you both slipped away before you could be apprehended.'' Lord Farman continued.

    ''And what of my men, I have a sizable escort.'' Matarys questioned.

    ''The only ships large enough to transport the hundred knights that rode with you are ships of my own fleet, if you two were too slip away I could conceivably say you acted alone, but if you and your entire escort were to escape…Im afraid I would not be able to feign ignorance.'' Lord Farman said sadly.

    ''They are good men, loyal men.'' Matarys protested.

    ''I am sorry….I shall see that they are treated gently and given the opportunity to ransom themselves as befits their rank.'' Lord Farman replied.

    Matarys was silent at that.

    ''In truth…..I care little for my own life, but if my liege Lord should find out about my involvement I fear for my family….I have two daughters…they are all that remain to me after my son's death'' The Lord of Faire Isle said.

    ''Send them north to Seaguard, I shall have my own wife educate them in the capitol….I swear that they shall remain safe….but I am not leaving without my men….your oath of guest right applies to them as much as me, either all of us leave or none of us.' Matarys said with determination.

    Lord Farman was silent for a good long while before at last he nodded ''I shall provide you with one of my war galleys…I will not break my oaths….but I shall hold you to your own oath that my daughters remain safe.''




    ''I swear on my honor you shall be repaid for this when the war ends.'' Matarys pledged.

    ''Fulfilling one's duty does not require payment my Prince, it will be enough for me that you would inform him of what has happened here today, the men of house Farman will fight on opposite sides of the field from the Dragon Banner, I ask he consider my actions here today when the time for judgment comes at the war's end.'' Lord Farman said.

    ''My brother is a generous man….he will not forget your honor.'' Matarys promised.

    ''If you mean to take your entire guard with you you must leave tonight while the castle sleeps and not in the morrow, I will have your galley provisioned and ready by midnight.'' Lord Farman said.

    Ser Garmon nodded acknowledgement at that.

    Lord Farman extended a hand and Matarys, ignoring it, embraced the man as a son might a father.

    The Lord of Fair Isle was too shocked to do much else but awkwardly stood there before gently disentangling himself.

    ''Fair winds Prince.'' Lord Farman said as Matarys and the Kingsguard left the hall.

    That night, while the castle slept, the galley Blue Wind quietly disembarked from the docks of Fair Isle, heading north to Seaguard, where Matarys and Ser Garmon could do little but hope the Tullys would remain loyal.

    War had come to Westeros.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter 25: A Call to Arms (Ronnel Arryn, Deria Martell, Vaemond)
  • Threadmarks
    • 10th Moon, 8023
    The Eyrie

    The high hall of the Eyrie was as crowded as Ronnel Arryn had ever seen it. Lords great and small from all over the Vale had made the pilgrimage to the castle, not all of them had been necessarily invited, but when word of Loren Lannisters rebellion had reached the Eyrie, rumors of a certain raven reaching the Eyrie had also circulated throughout the realm, and the Lords of the Vale were eager to give their input, desired or not.




    Ronnel removed one of his hands from the sides of his carved weirwood throne and ran it through his golden hair as he surveyed the high hall, which was packed with several small groups of lords conversing amongst themselves, though Lord Robin Redfort and fat Lord Eon Hunter of Longbow Hall seemed to be more interested in the company of their wine cups than any of their compatriots.

    The carved wooden doors opened and a tall man with orange hair tied in a bun and piercing green eyes walked in, leaning on a cane as his wooden leg and cane clacked upon the marble floor.

    How did he manage to get up here Ronnel thought, not entirely pleased to see that Qarl Corbray had made his way to the council, Lord Corbray was a warmonger and a ruthless one at that, Ronnel had a feeling he knew where the lord of Hearts Home stood on the current situation.



    I should have started yesterday Ronnel thought ruefully, if he had begun the proceedings the previous day he would not have had to deal with Qarl Corbray….the Lord of the Vale had no intention of making the same mistake twice.

    ''My lords……it is past time we began.'' Ronnel Arryn said, rising from his throne of white carved Weirwood. His voice did not carry over the commotion of a dozen separate conversations however and he was ignored.

    ''My lords.'' He began again but to the same effect.

    Suddenly his wife Kalianne rose from her smaller throne and clapped her hands together, loudly, which got their attention.



    ''My Lords….My Ladies….we welcome you to the Eyrie…and thank you all for making the journey in such a tenuous time….we offer you bread and salt and extend our hospitality to you all.'' His wife said, waving for servants who had been waiting in the back to finish offering the ancient rite of hospitality.

    Kalianne looked to Ronnel with a small smile as the nobility received bread and salt, Ronnel gave a nod of thanks and made his way to the dais to address his vassals.




    He waited until the hall was completely silent before speaking.

    ''As your liege Lord it is my duty to inform you, my vassals of pertinent developments in the realm and events which could affect our circumstances…..my lords….Loren Lannister and the Westerlands are in open revolt against the crown….the Darklyns of Duskendale have joined with them'' Ronnel said, though he was not met with quite the reception he had been hoping for.



    ''Everyone knows that.'' replied Demerei Wydman, the lady of Wycliffe, overlord of the Fingers, and owner of one of the largest demenses and levies in the Vale.

    ''Aye…..tell us about the raven.'' Eon Hunter said, his fleshly face as red as the wine he loved so much.

    Ronnel bristled at that ''I'm not in the habit of sharing personal correspondence.''

    ''My Lord Arryn, perhaps if we knew the contents of this letter we would be able to better counsel you.'' Lord Wallace Waynwood said courteously, running a hand through his long unkempt gray beard that made him look like one of the wizards from the childrens stories.

    ''Why invite us here if you had no intention of sharing the news with us '' Eon Hunter said.

    You weren't invited, you drunken fool Ronnel thought to himself, in truth his vassals had simply begun showing up once word of the troubles to the west spread throughout the Vale.

    ''You need not say it in words….there is only one reason Lord Loren would send you a raven…he wants the Knights of the Vale.'' A quiet, harsh voice from the back of the hall replied, the voice of Qarl Corbray.

    Ronnel was speechless at that before his wife nodded and stepped in front of him.

    Dont he thought, but the words would not come to his mouth, once his wife had her mind set on something there was no stopping her.

    ''You speak the truth Lord Corbray…Loren Lannister has sent terms to my Lord Husband, in exchange for the Knights of the Vale he will recognize my husband as King of Mountain and Vale as well as the Vales independence, he proposes an alliance, which following victory, will be sealed by marriages…Lannister claims the Vale and the Westerlands are natural allies in this struggle.'' His wife said, causing a loud murmur to erupt throughout the hall.

    ''The Vale should be free once more…the time is right.'' A voice in the crowd said.

    ''Thousands of Valemen will die if we join with the Lannisters….is a crown worth their blood my Lord.'' Robin Redfort said, sounding surprisingly coherent for the amount of wine he had been drinking.



    ''The Sistermen are aligned with the Targaryens….my island and keep is just over a days travel by ship from the damnable pirates.'' Peter Pryor, lord of the tiny island of Pebble declared nervously.

    ''Are you both so cowardly that you would afear Sistermen and foreign invaders….when the sagas and songs are written of this day you will not be well represented.'' old Alaric Belmore declared, running a hand over his small gray mustache.

    ''Im no coward….I just know the costs of war…do your precious songs and sagas tell of the murder of farmers and rape of women and children Lord Belmore?'' Redfort replied.

    Ronnel decided that this bickering had gone on long enough and cleared his throat ''All of these points notwithstanding, I swore a vow to the Targaryens, both to Aegon when I was a child and again to his son in Oldtown.''

    ''Oaths are not meant to be broken…..if you break your oath Lord Arryn then it will be a stain not only on your honor but those of your children.'' Old Lord Waynwood replied.

    ''Oaths are made in the sight of the seven, and an oath made to an abomination of incest has no merit…you speak of honor and duty Lord Waynwood, honor compels that we remove the stain on our honor as Valemen attained from serving such accursed Kings….we should have never sworn loyalty to them in the first place.'' Lady Demerei Wydman said, voice shrill with the righteous fury of a zealot.




    Qarl Corbray gave a nod of approval at that ''The Targaryens are ill-made and ill-birthed foreigners from across the sea, our people have lived here for centuries, our period of subjugation will end…but only if we do what needs to be done…we will burn away their sin with steel and fire.''

    A roar of approval rang out through the hall.

    ''Your own uncle Gawen is apart of King Vaemonds Kingsguard.'' Wallace Waynwood said with shock.

    Qarl shrugged indifferently ''It's about time Lady Forlorn returned to Hearts Home.''

    ''I say we join with the Lannisters, we pay taxes both to Lord Arryn and to the Crown ever since the conquest….i've had enough of it.'' Lord Hunter said.

    Ronnel had had enough of this bickering, which he presumed would go on for hours more. Without a word he rose from his throne and slipped out of the High Hall, his absence barely noticed by his lords. His wife followed close behind.

    ''Ronnel.'' She said from behind him but he did not answer her, he would not do the dishonor of rebuking her in public.

    When they were at last behind the closed doors of their chambers he finally spoke.

    ''My lady…..you should not have told them of Loren Lannisters terms…..you had no right…I could have quietly refused him, but now my vassals are all calling for war.'' Ronnel said gently.

    ''And why would you have refused him?'' She asked, seemingly unaffected by his chastisement.

    ''I don't seek to increase my own power…especially not at the price of thousands of lives….I rule the Vale now….it is enough.'' He replied.

    ''Winning this war isn't about gaining power….its about taking back what you once had….you were a King Ronnel…and the Targaryens stole that from you.'' She said.

    ''I was a child.'' He said hesitantly.

    ''A King…..you were Ronnel Arryn, King of the Mountains and Vale…and they took it from you.'' She said, placing a hand on his chest.

    ''I…I swore an oath to the King….The Targaryens have done me no wrong….they see the value of my service….his father sent his son, Prince Matarys to be fostered here in the Eyrie.'' Ronnel continued.

    His wife scoffed ''If they had wished to honor you they would have given the boy to you as a ward…not Nestor Royce….they sent a child to live in your own halls but didnt think you capable enough to raise him.''

    Ronnel was silent at that, he had never thought about it like that, he had grown quite close to the younger Prince Matarys during his time in the Eyrie, but he suddenly realized how insulting it was that he was not made the princes guardian despite the boy residing in his own keep.



    ''I should have been given guardianship of the boy.'' Ronnel grumbled, suddenly annoyed and embarrassed at the slight.

    Kalianne ran a hand through his hair slowly ''Our sons could be Kings and Princes Ronnel, I would be a Queen…..and you…you would be King Ronnel Arryn again, Lord of Mountains and Vale, overlord of the Mountains of the Moon….it is your destiny…you must take back what is yours.''

    She leaned in close, whispering in his ear ''You just have to be bold enough to reach out and take it.''

    The hair on the back of Ronnels head rose.

    King Ronnel Arryn He thought to himself, suddenly aware that had been his name once.

    He took her hand and nodded slowly.




    Rookery of Sunspear, Dorne



    Deria Martell held the scroll in her hands, reading it for the third time to make sure she had not missed anything.

    ''Well…..what does it say.'' Her youngest brother Olyvar asked impatiently.



    ''Loren Lannister requests we join our armies with his against King Vaemond….in exchange he promises he will recognize and support our independence as a free and independent state as we were in my grandmothers time….he says I would be a Queen again and our alliance would be sealed in marriages and betrothals upon the wars end.'' Deria replied dutifully.

    ''Let me see.'' Her youngest son Lewyn said and she handed him the scroll, unlike his older brother Blaise, who had not bothered to rouse himself from his bed at the arrival of the raven, Lewyn took after her with brown skin and black hair, while his older brother Blaise looked more like their Reachman hedge knight father.




    Her younger brother, also called Lewyn shook his head ''We can't trust the Lannisters Deria…their entire house was built on trickery….they promise alliances but even if we were to win the war they would not act in our defense in the future….I know it….we should not bestirr ourselves in this fight, the men of Dorne don't need to bleed for the Lion or the Dragon.''



    ''I did not know you presumed to have the gift of prophecy uncle…a shame you did not use it before the battle at Watersmeet….only the gods know the future.'' Her son said passionately, it did not take much to rile him up.

    Deria put a hand on her son's shoulder to calm him.

    ''And what would you have us do?'' Deria asked.

    ''The time is right mother….Dorne shall be free again, we were not meant to be subjects….with the Lannisters, Arryns and Darklyns at our side we can drive the Dragons from Dorne'' Her son said confidently.

    ''And what have the Targaryens done to you that has awoken this hatred?'' She asked him.

    Lewyn scoffed ''What have they done…..they killed thousands of our people….house Yronwood was nearly destroyed…..they had Lord Blackmont and Lady Toland executed, they are our enemies.''

    ''And we killed thousands of theirs.'' Deria said gently.

    ''Our cause was righteous….it is not the same mother.'' He replied.

    ''Our cause…..I was not aware you fought the Targaryens son….you name them enemies…what have they done to you?'' Deria prodded.

    ''The smith created the world in a certain fashion….their marriage practices goes against the natural order of things…..they are sinners.'' The prince responded.

    ''We are all sinners.'' Deria said before continuing.

    ''The Targaryens have done good as well, though you are loathe to admit….they captured the islands of Sunstone and Bloodstone and expelled the pirates, those pirates harried and raided our coasts even before my grandmothers time…trade with the Stormlands has never been safer…..upon Vaemonds ascension he sent a gift to Sunspear….our family could rise high within the realm, you speak of the war son, but the Targaryens have brought peace to Dorne following the bloodshed, in my grandmothers time we warred constantly with the Stormlanders and the Knights of the Reach….but no more.'' Deria said.

    ''Deria….we swore an oath…but that does not mean we have to bleed for them, we should not get involved in this war.'' Her brother Lewyn said.

    ''Mother….this chance won't present itself again…..The Targaryens will be crushed between the Knights of the Vale and the Westerlands, if we join with them the south will be open to our advance….our people could be free.'' Her son said, clearly of a different mind than his uncle.

    ''We swore the Targaryens an oath to defend the realm, I was only a squire during the war, but I remember the burning of the Yronwoods, how angry it made me….but an oath comes before vengeance….we lost the right to vengeance when we pledged them our spears'' Olyvar said.

    ''Vengeance is an oath….you would have us bleed for the Targaryens mother'' Her son said heatedly.

    Deria made her way to the window, looking out over Sunspear.

    ''The only thing I care about is our family…..joining with the Lannisters would put our family at risk of the executioner's ax…but even should the Targaryens lose the war, the Lannisters won't have the power to punish those that remained loyal to the crown.'' Deria said before sofly continuing.

    ''And Dorne shall remain loyal.'' Deria said, her hands in the windowsill.

    ''Mother?'' Lewyn asked with shock.

    ''The Martells of Dorne keep their oaths…..raise the banners… we will join with the Targaryens.'' Deria said, listening to the clamoring of the bazaar below.





    20th of 10th Moon, 8023
    Council Chambers of the Aegonfort
    Vaemond watched cooly as Nestor Royce moved the marble falcon figure from the nearby table onto the large map, signifying the Arryns had sides with the Lannisters, they had just received the Raven from the Eyrie and all their plans from the previous days were for naught and had to be reconsidered with the Knights of the Vales entry into the war.

    There were several miniature sculptures on the map. Those representing the loyalists were a Greyjoy Kraken in the Iron Islands, a bronze Dornish sun, a Baratheon Stag, A Tully Trout, an orange shield with the sigil of house Royce in the Vale and a Dragon in King's Landing. The rebels were represented by a gold lion, a marble falcon and a castle representing Duskendale.



    An emerald Tyrell Rose and a Stone Wolf stood off to the side of the map, looking ominously at their companions.

    Vaemond broke the silence ''I suppose we should count ourselves fortunate the Starks have not declared for the rebels….Brandon Stark did not attend my coronation, I know well his disdain for me.''

    ''No doubt he wishes to see you defeated, but the man is known as the Just in his own lands, he won't break his oath.'' Corlys Velaryon said confidently.

    ''And the Tyrells…..I had thought them to be among my most loyal Bannermen, but they have not raised their banners….you know Theo Tyrell better than any man here Corlys….why has he forsaken his vows….the Chivalry of the Reach is much needed'' Vaemond said, looking rather longingly at the Emerald Tyrell Rose figure, sitting uselessly to the side of the map.

    Corlys nodded ''It's true I know Theo Tyrell, I knighted him in Eastmelt after I slew the bandit leader….I say with confidence that he will not raise his forces against you….he knows his family owes its position to yours, and he was raised for several years in this very keep.'' Corlys said.

    ''He won't raise forces against me, but he won't raise them for his King and the family he owes so much too, why?'' Vaemond demanded.

    ''Marriage your grace.'' Old Rickard Stokeworth, Master of Laws said ponderously.

    Vaemond nodded slowly, remembering now and cursing himself silently, he had been in attendance at the marriage of Theo Tyrell and Lorenna Lannister, Lorens own daughter.

    ''The Tyrells are bound by blood to the Lannisters….they won't fight against you but neither will Theo Tyrell raise his banners against his own father-in-law, the Grandfather of his heir Amaury.'' Stokeworth continued.

    ''Bonds notwithstanding their absence puts us in a difficult situation.'' Vaemond said, his eyes returning to the isolated silver trout of the Tullys in the Riverlands.

    ''The Tullys are caught in between the Lannisters in the west and the Knights of the Vale and Duskendale in the east….I fear they will bear the brunt of this war….if the Reach was with us we could have the Westerlands surrounded but we don't.'' Vaemond said.

    ''I know young Samwell Tully…..he will defend his people with all his strength, even if that means a direct assault to keep the war from his own lands.'' Orys Baratheon said.

    Vaemond looked towards the western coast of the Riverlands to the fortress of Seaguard, where he had received a Raven from Matarys ''It was a lucky enough thing my brother escaped from Fair Isle, but he will have a difficult time of it avoiding the war making his way back…..if he should tread too close to the Mountains of the Moon….''

    ''Ser Garmon Hightower is no fool, he will get him back safely.'' Corlys said.

    He turned to his Marshal Lord Nestor Royce, who had been silent for much of the meeting ''Lord Royce….I need you to return to Runestone and raise your levies there…..we need to give Orys's men, as well as the Ironborn and Dornish time to reinforce the Riverlands, perhaps your levies being raised will give the Knights of the Vale pause before advancing on the Tullys, they will not want to leave thousands of men to their rear.''

    Nestor Royce nodded dutifully ''Your Grace, I fear I cannot match their numbers in the field, but I will do my duty.''

    ''Do whatever you can to slow them down, should Loren Lannister be given the chance to join with the Valemen his host will number seventy thousand men, we cannot allow that to happen.'' Vaemond said.

    ''It will take the Dornish a good while to assemble their men in the deserts and march up the Princes Pass….we can't rely on them joining the war anytime soon.'' Orys said, nodding towards the bronze sun.

    ''This war will be decided by your men Uncle, and those of the Greyjoys….Vickon has not sent word of what his strategy is but we will need his men to join with yours and the Tullys.'' Vaemond said.

    ''You will not be accompanying us your Grace?'' Orys asked with surprise.

    The King shook his head ''My son Aelyx died as a result of my negligence….I will not make the same mistake twice….I won't march west while there is a wolf in the sheep's pen, Duskendale has some 5000 men and are just a few days hard marching from the capitol, I won't leave them free to raid and pillage at our rear….While you march to meet with the Tullys and Greyjoys, I will march north and deal with Duskendale.''

    ''Vaemond….Duskendale will have its day….but we will need all the men we can in the west….should the Lannisters and Arryns unite into a single host…..even with 5000 men the Darklyns are no immediate threat to the capitol'' Corlys said.

    ''My own host will be made up of men from the Crownlands…King or no, do you think they will follow me while their own villages and families are left undefined at the mercy of Duskendale….no I will deal with the Darklyns first.'' Vaemond said sternly.

    The hall went silent at that.

    ''I don't understand why Duskendale is against us….I was good to him, yes I sent his levies to Sunstone but I rewarded Lord Darklyn handsomely.'' Vaemond said, looking at the large demesne on the map, just north of Kings Landing.

    ''Lannister has been preparing for this for some time i'd guess…..at your mothers funeral I saw him conversing with the Lord Darklyn….talk was that they had formed a friendship.'' Stokeworth said.



    ''Darklyns a fool if he believes Loren Lannister is his friend…..he's a pawn, his only use to keep me from joining the defense in the west…..Lannister is using him.'' Vaemond said.

    ''He will recognize his mistake when Duskendale falls.'' The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard said.

    Vaemond nodded and turned to Lord Royce.

    ''Before you leave for Runestone, raise all the banners north of the Blackwater Rush, that should be enough to deal with Duskendale.'' Vaemond commanded.

    ''What about the men here in the capitol, and south of the Rush, that amounts to near 10,000 men.'' Corlys asked with a frown.

    ''The levy of Kings Landing will stay in the capitol, If I must leave my family I will see they have thousands of swords and spears guarding them.'' Vaemond said, he would not risk any harm to his family, not after Aelyx.

    ''And the men of the southern Crownlands, there are several thousand that we could raise your Grace.'' Nestor Royce asked politely.

    ''They will be a reserve…..have the lords ready to raise them at a moment's notice, but they wont march on Duskendale with us'' Vaemond said curtly.

    Orys understood at once, he drew his dagger and brought it to the map ''The King speaks truly, we assume that the Lannisters will advance through the Riverlands, but should they attempt to steal a march through to the south, from Payne Hall into Byford….they would have a straight shot into the capitol.''

    Vaemond nodded before turning to his councilors ''My lords….we all have much to prepare for…see to your tasks.''

    The men nodded and left the room.

    Vaemond looked to the Dragon Figurine, made of Black Onyx with red rubies, taking it in his hand he moved it north on the map to Duskendale, where the Dragon stood in opposition to the checkered castle of house Darklyn.

    Fire and Blood He thought to himself.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter 26: First Blood (Vaemond)
  • Threadmarks
    • 20th of 11th Moon, 8023
    Edgerton, South of Duskendale

    He dreamed of the Sunset Sea. Its orange sunset calm and peaceful. He saw a tall boy with silver hair and a fine sword sheathed on his shoulder approaching a rope ladder, looking up to the crows nest above.

    Dont He thought to himself, his mouth opening to give a shout to warn the figure, but no words came out and the figure climbed the rope ladder, the only noise being the rapidly rising wind.

    The next thing he saw was the boy hanging on the crows nest, wind tearing at his clothes, but instead of the sea below him was an ocean of deep red blood.

    The figure fell, and a huge dark shape shot through the wind towards him, to its doom.

    Your fault

    The scene faded and the cold winds slowly abated, being replaced with scorching heat.

    The smell of fruit and fresh bread hung on the air like a perfume, while the clash of lance on shield resounded like a drum, outdone only by the occasional blast of a trumpet.

    A small silver haired babe basked in the warm sun sat upon a young woman's lap, the remains of a pasty smeared on its chubby face, giggling and reaching for a passing butterfly.

    Vaemond wanted to reach out, to take the child into his arms, to beg his forgiveness, but soon the shape faded, being replaced with a dark room with an empty crib, carved with dragons.

    You weren't there

    Your Grace

    Your Grace….Vaemond     a familiar voice called out

    A firm hand on his shoulder caused the King to open his eyes, standing above his bed was Corlys Velaryon, armored in white plate, a white cloak streaming from his shoulders, Vaemond, still disturbed by his dreams, tried to remember if Corlys had the watch that night…he must have, there was little other reason for him to be armored in the middle of the night.

    ''You are armored Corlys.'' Vaemond said groggily.

    The Lord Commander nodded grimly ''A squadron of our outriders returned 20 minutes ago…Lord Darklyn and his bannerman Lord Harte stole a march on us in the night with all their strength…they are close, the scouts believe with their pace they will reach us a few hours after dawn.''

    ''That is ill news….they've caught us with our trousers down.'' Vaemond said, rising from his bed, he had a force with him numbering some 2700 men, while a smaller force of 1600 men were traveling behind him, a force which included most of his light horse.



    ''If you mean to withdraw back to Rosby, we need to move within the hour, and even then it may be for naught.'' Corlys said.

    Vaemond, dressed only in a night robe, made his way to the table which had a map of the northern crownlands, after studying it for a moment he shook his head.

    ''We will give them battle…..well be outnumbered but if word spreads that I ran from a fight, even if just to regroup with our reinforcements, it could embolden other houses…..the Starks cannot see any weakness from me….they cannot be given confidence to join this war.'' Vaemond said.

    Corlys nodded ''We will throw them back to Duskendale.''

    ''We must….or this will be a short war.'' Vaemond said.

    Corlys chuckled at that.

    ''You and Lord Reddune will lead the flanks….i'll take the center….make your preparations, and see that our outriders are given a hot meal and some rest, if they had not returned….''

    Corlys nodded and left the tent.

    Vaemond stretched and opened the flap of the tent, letting the cool night air wake him. The first light of dawn slowly rising over the grassy plains of Edgerton.

    This will be a day of death Vaemond thought to himself.

    Almost as if sensing his thoughts, his black bloodhound Balerion howled mournfully into the distance, his sound mixing with that of the waking camp.

    Vaemond knelt down and scratched the hound behind its ears

    ''You sense it too.'' He asked quietly and Balerion gave another howl as the sound of pots and kettles being brought to cookfires mixed with the sound of grizzled searjents barking orders and men sharpening spears.

    The tranquil fields of Edgerton would soon see their share of blood.


    Four Hours Later

    Vaemond, Corlys Velaryon and Neilyn Reddune, Lord of Sunstone sat upon their destriers and looked at the host House Darklyn had brought against them.

    There were 4000 of them by the scouts estimate, more than Vaemonds 2700 strong force.

    The center of the enemy host was by far the largest, and had a vanguard of nearly 700 calvary, the banners of the local houses of the region fluttering in the wind upon their lances.

    The yellow and black checkered flag of House Darklyn was by far the most common, but it did not stand alone. Vaemond saw the red stag of House Harte, emblazoned upon white and blue. It was joined by the three golden crowns upon pink of house Hollard, the golden antlers of House Buckwell and the peculiar blue and white spheres of House Rollingford.

    Vaemond had been made aware that like him, the enemy had nearly 2000 men left behind, but even without the rest of their comrades, the host of Duskendale and all its strength was impressive. Despite the region declining in recent years due to Kings Landings emergence, one of the reasons for Duskendales defiance, one would not know of their houses' decline by looking at their host.

    ''They have put the majority of their forces in the center….you'll be outnumbered near three to one.'' Neilyn Reddune said, the grizzled dornish lord had made his way from Sunstone to the mainland to take part in leading the campaign at Vaemonds request.

    ''So it seems…..I will hold them for as long as I can but if you don't break their flanks quickly they will overwhelm us.'' Vaemond said calmly.

    ''Vaemond….the center will be the most dangerous part of the battle, allow me to lead it in your place, you will still win much glory on the left.'' Corlys Velaryon offered.

    ''I will lead the center….the only thing keeping the Starks out of this war will be talk of my performance leading an army in a true battle….if I am anything less than remarkable then they may see it as their chance to join the war…my role is final…but I am relying on both of you to break their flanks before they overwhelm me.'' Vaemond said.

    Lord Reddune chuckled at that ''Their flanks are weak….we will cut through them like a knife through butter, keep them occupied long enough and we will come to your rescue your grace.''

    They all shared a laugh at that, all three men were experienced warriors, even Vaemond with his 21 years, and they knew that the best way to ward off the pre-battle nerves was a bit of humor in the face of the coming death.

    The time for talk had passed however, and Corlys rode off to the left, his white Kingsguard cloak billowing in the wind, while the old Dornishman rode to the right.

    Vaemond made his way to the front rank where his Kingsguard were waiting. Like at the battle of the Whispers they were short handed. Roland Crakehall sat upon his destrier like a veritable giant, wielding his two handed axe in one hand like most men might wield a morningstar.

    Harold Langward carried a lance with the sigil of his house quartered with the plain white of the Kingsguard attached to a banner. These two men alone would make up his personal guard.

    Ser Garmon Hightower was escorting his brother Matarys back to the capitol after their narrow escape from Fair Isle, and at last word they were at Riverrun.

    Ser Gawen Corbray and Ser Gregor Goode remained at the Aegonfort with his family. He had wanted to bring Ser Gawen on the campaign after leaving him in the capital during the Battle of the Whispers, he was a better sword than Ser Harold Langward, but Ser Gawen had stated that, while he would fulfill his oath and defend the royal family, he would under no circumstances raise blades against his kinsman in the Vale.

    Given that House Corbrays men were apart of the Vale host and in open rebellion against the crown, Vaemond had admitted he could not guarantee the impossibility of such an event and graciously allowed Ser Gawen to remain in the capitol where he would not be faced with the possibility of facing his own kin in battle.

    Ser Roland Crakehall was in a similar position, his father Sumner was among Loren Lannisters foremost generals, but Roland Crakehall had said that, while he would not slay his own father or brothers if it came to battle as kinslayers were damned by the gods, he would give them a good bludgeoning for their treason and deliver them to Vaemond.

    He turned to his men, some 800 of them, many looking nervously at the enemy center, which was over three times their number.

    ''I WON'T LIE TO YOU MEN…..WE ARE OUTNUMBERED…..THREE TO ONE…AND IT'S EVEN WORSE WHEN COMPARING OUR CALVARY.'' Vaemond shouted, well out of earshot of the forces of Duskendale, which were still slowly advancing through the grass fields.

    As one might expect that did not exactly bring cheer into the hearts of his men and the nervous grumbles and chattering increased amongst the ranks, the King quickly continued.

    ''BUT THEY HAVE LEFT THEMSELVES WEAK…..THEIR FLANKS ARE UNDERMANNED AND VULNERABLE, CORLYS VELARYON, THE FINEST WARRIOR IN THESE KINGDOMS WILL BREAK THEM, AS WILL LORD REDDUNE.'' Vaemond shouted.

    ''THEY WILL HAVE THE NUMBERS YES….BUT WE FIGHT WITH THE KNOWLEDGE THAT HELP WILL BE COMING FROM OUR FLANKS…..I PROMISE YOU THIS….IF WE HOLD THEM LONG ENOUGH….IF WE BUY THEM TIME….WE SHALL WIN THE DAY….AND I PROMISE THIS AS WELL….I WILL FIGHT AT YOUR SIDE, AND DIE AT IT SHOULD IT COME TO THAT…..HOLD THEM BACK…AND WE SHALL WIN THE DAY.'' Vaemond shouted loudly, over the trumpets and drums that the approaching host was sounding on their advance.

    That got a much better reaction from his men, though many still looked uneasy.

    A sudden roar on the flanks went out and Vaemond saw that both Corlys Velaryon and Neilyn Reddune had ordered their heavy men-at-arms forward, charging the enemy flanks, The Lord Commander being met with a similar shield wall while the Lord of Sunstone was met only by a small ragged line of archers.

    The Battle of Edgerton was underway.



    Vaemond wheeled his Destrier and saw that Lord Harte, commanded of the enemy center had sent his light cavalry, almost 500 in number in a slow trot towards Vaemonds center, a probing advance to harass his lines.

    The young King quickly considered his options, he had just 120 light cavalry, a fifth of the number approaching him, he could not hope to defeat them in a battle of any significant length. If he did not engage them however, that would likely mean Lord Harte, upon seeing his opponent pass up the chance for a skirmish, would order a full out charge, which he could not hold back for long.

    We must play their game Vaemond thought grimly.

    He turned to his two Kingsguard ''We must buy them time….order our freeriders forward.''

    ''Warrior be with us.'' Roland Crakehall said solemnly, raising his two handed ax above his head, signaling the trumpeter to order the small force of light cavalry to form up.

    ''WITH ME…RIDE….WITH ME NOW.'' Vaemond screamed, drawing Blackfyre and pointing it at the enemy, leading the charge.

    The small force of freeriders galloped towards the force five times their number, both forces screaming an untold amount of battle cries.

    It was not a complete battle but instead a skirmish. Both sides rode cautiously, riding in and out of the fray, picking off isolated riders, taking their foe two to one when they had the chance, an easier proposition for the men of Duskendale.

    Vaemonds first opponent was a young freerider in the colors of House Hollard, mounted on a brown horse, garbed in a leather jerkin and surcoat, helmetless and armed with sword and shield.

    Vaemond clumsily hacked at the young man, but the freerider advanced his horse, taking all the space away from Vaemonds strike, and grabbing his sword arm with a gloved hand.

    He struggled to free himself, but he had no room to slash his sword, the two were close enough that he could smell what his foe had for breakfast, onions most likely.

    The freerider, who unlike the King had use of his sword hand thrust his blade forward, but Vaemond brought up his shield, catching the blade in the metal.

    If the stakes were not so deadly one might find them almost comical, both quite literally stuck together, all four of their hands in use, unable to move a muscle.

    The two grabbled, with the Hollard Freerider holding onto Vaemonds sword arm for dear life while trying to free his own sword from the Kings shield, somehow managing to wrench it free.

    Before he could make good on his stroke of luck, Roland Crakehall's two handed axe, wielded in one hand by the giant Kingsguard took him in the top of the skull, splitting his head in two like an overripe melon.

    Vaemond nearly lost his balance as the dead man fell to the ground, still holding onto his arm but he managed to push the man off of him just in time.

    He nodded his thanks to the Kingsgaurd and returned to the fray.

    He saw Harold Langward, who had ridden out of the melee for a moment charge back in, lance lowered, taking a rider's horse in the side of the neck in a spray of crimson, sending the man tumbling to the ground along with his horse.

    One of his own men was struggling against two foes, one recently dismounted and the other still mounted. The one on the ground held his reins, preventing him from escaping while the other hacked at him with a hatchet.

    Vaemond was about to ride forward and help when the mounted man punched the Targaryen rider in the side of the face with a gloved hand, sending him spilling out of the saddle onto the grass. Vaemond did not see what happened to him after that but he did not think it was anything good.

    Ser Harold Langward was at his side again, blocking a strike with his sword and counter attacking at an enemy rider, his sword piercing the man's arm, going clear through to the man's chest, causing him to slump on his horse with a groan.

    On his other side, Roland Crakhall was using his height and length of his axe to great effect, dealing red ruin to any that dared approach.

    An old man with a wind burnt face and a salt and pepper mustache, also wearing the colors of House Hollard charged at Vaemond from the front, his spear over his head, thrusting downwards.

    Vaemond brought up his shield, made of reinforced silver and steel and caught the blow with a loud crash, before the man could ready another attack Vaemond slashed Blackfyre upward at the mans vulnerable spear hand, taking three of his fingers and causing the rider to cry out in pain and flee, his good hand on his reins.

    He wheeled his horse in a slow circle, quickly appraising the situation. His men were giving as good as they got, but their foes were growing bolder, if they stayed any longer they would be slaughtered due to the overwhelming numbers.

    ''CALL THEM BACK.'' Vaemond shouted, and a nearby mounted trumpeter sounded the orders to withdraw.

    The Targaryen calvary disengaged from the skirmish, riding back to their infantry. 120 men had followed Vaemond in the charge, but to his estimation they had lost a third of that number in the melee.

    He almost feared to look to the flanks, he had to hope Lord Reddune and Corlys Velaryon had broken their flanks…..he had to hope that they had given themselves enough time by taking part in the skirmish.

    The Lord Commander had broken the enemy shield wall and was chasing off the archers behind that, Vaemond looked on in relief, Corlys would soon ride to their aid.

    The sight on the right was far less reassuring, Lord Reddune had broken his foes easily enough, but instead of regrouping to prepare to aid their King in the center, they were wildly chasing after the fleeing enemy, seemingly losing all organization.




    ''Lord Reddune has lost control of his men…..what…what are they doing running down the enemy….we need them here.'' Vaemond said, scarce believing what he was seeing.''

    ''Your Grace.'' Ser Roland said.

    ''We need his men…when they charge…….'' Vaemond continued, oblivious.

    ''They already have.'' Ser Roland said grimly.

    Vaemond turned and saw the big man spoke true. Lord Harte had reorganized his calvary from the quick melee and assembled them at the front of his lines, which began an all out charge.

    Nearly 700 calvary thundered forward across the grassy plains, thousands of men at arms and peasant levies charging close behind.

    They're throwing everything at us Vaemond thought with a start.

    He turned to the left flank and saw that Corlys's men at arms, while moving quickly, would not reach them before the huge mass of calvary slammed into their shield wall, Lord Reddunes men were spread out chasing down the enemy and were essentially useless.

    Vaemond looked at the battered remains of his calvary, in order to give Corlys time to reinforce him he would have to slow down the horde of calvary that was approaching them, but he did not have the strength to stop 700 calvary, led by 200 knights at a full gallop. Just 80 of his cavalry had survived the earlier engagement, and his own reserve of 40 knights was pitiful to the near 200 that thundered towards him…but he had no choice….they had to keep the enemy calvary away from their shieldwall.

    He was about to order another foray against the huge horde of riders that faced them when the first barrage hit the approaching knights.

    The first line of mounted knights were cut down like wheat to a scythe, riders and horses tumbling to the ground as the arrows found them.

    Vaemond turned with surprise and saw that Corlys had managed to get a tiny line of archers in range, their number couldn't have exceeded 60 men.


    The Lord Commander had arranged them cleverly to make up for their small size. They were in three ranks of twenty. They fired not all at once but rank by rank, adjusting the range when it was not their turn, making it so that these 60 longbowmen could shower a large area of the grassy plains with arrows.

    They fired rapidly, several more volleys hitting the mass of calvary, the dead horses and riders in front of them obstructing their path forward and causing the riders to hesitate, and the cavalry charge shifted to a crawl as riders tried to maneuver around the dead and dying front rank.

    This pause gave Corlys Velaryons infantry time to join with Vaemonds shield wall, bolstering their numbers to nearly 1500 men.

    Lord Harte would not order his knights and horsemen through an open field under arrow fire into a shield wall of over a thousand infantry and wisely called a withdrawal, meeting up with their reinforcements who also joined the retreat before giving battle.

    The Battle was over.

    By the end of it almost 1700 men of Duskendale were dead, heavily wounded or captured, with 70 knights, a third of the number that had fought in the battle becoming casualties. The decisions of Lord Harte and Lord Darklyn to give battle with such weak flanks, and not immediately overwhelm the Targaryen center had cost them dearly.

    Targaryen losses had been much lighter, losing just 230 men, though a third of the men that followed Vaemond in his time buying charge had perished.



    Even such a decisive victory did come with other costs however.

    Vaemond had been understandably angry with Lord Neilyn for endangering their victory by pursuing the fleeing enemies on the right, and had looked for him after the battle to rightfully chastise him.

    It had become all too clear the reasons for this shortly after the battle however, when Vaemond saw Lord Reddune being carried off the field on a stretcher, the brave old Dornishman had taken an arrow through the shoulder and the heart while leading the charge on the enemy right, and his men had become confused and lost their battle order when he had fallen.



    Following this decisive victory, Vaemond would order his host, reinforced by 1500 men north to lay siege to the Dun Fort and the City of Duskendale, the taking of which would remove the threat so close to the capitol.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter 27: A Fish out of Water (Vaemond, Lucas Blackwood)
  • Threadmarks
    • 28th of 2nd Moon, 8024
    Outside the Walls of the Dunfort, Duskendale

    Vaemond spurred his horse forward through the sandy beach at a slow trot, occasionally urging his horse to the side to avoid a dead horse or rider, the entrails of which had turned the tide a pinkish red.



    It was a charge born of desperation….desperation and hunger. They had sallied out that morning at first light, some 200 riders mounted on bedraggled starving horses.

    The time of the attack and its sudnessness after weeks of boring siege had caught Vaemonds men on the outskirts of the siege camp by surprise, but the riders had not delayed long to capitalize on their advantage but rode quickly for the center of the siege camp…with the goal of ending the siege in a single stroke.

    It had been Balerion, the King's bloodhound that had woken him from his sleep and warned him of some impending danger with his barking, well before Ser Harold Langward, who had the watch, barged into his tent, warning him of the attack.

    Vaemond didn't have time to fully armor, only being able to pull on a leather riding jerkin and one of his two black shoulderplates before he stumbled out of his tent, Blackfyre in hand and mounted his horse, all of his Kingsguard save for Ser Harold in a similar disheveled state.

    He had managed to rally the early risers amongst the camp, who had gone from making cookfires to break their fast to counter charging in the blink of an eye.

    They had met halfway between the camp and the Dun Fort, on the sandy coastline in a clash of steel and horse.

    The fight had been bloody, the castle gates of the Dun Fort had been closed and the sallying party knew there would be no retreat for them and fought fiercely.

    Vaemond had not managed to kill any enemies, but he had knocked a few off their horses while Ser Harold Langward fought his way deep into the enemy column to the point the King thought his Kingsguard had been lost, until the white knight cut his way back to his comrades.

    Despite the bravery of the charge, the attackers were doomed to failure once they lost their mobility trapped against the coast and the rapidly waking siege camp.

    Archers and Crossbowmen had simply stood on the sides and picked them off one by one, and the melee had quickly turned into a slaughter, 200 men had sortied out of the Dunfort and they were slain or captured to a man, not one had returned to the fortress.



    Losses had not been insignificant for the Targaryens however, 80 men had been killed or heavily wounded, mostly those in the outer ranks, though there were many whose corpses adorned the beach as well.

    Vaemond maneuvered his horse around one such corpse, one of his own men, who would have looked almost peacefully sleeping in the sand if his neck hadn't been slashed to a red ruin.

    ''It was brave….if nothing else their charge was brave.'' Vaemond remarked to his three Kingsguard, breaking the silence of the death around them.

    Corlys scoffed ''Brave and stupid….they never had a chance against us.''

    ''It wasn't beating us, they rode out for…..they wanted to kill me, end the war quickly….and I gave them that chance by riding out to meet them, brave and stupid applies to me just as much them.'' Vaemond said, feeling like an utter fool, he had risked everything by leading the countercharge personally, just as he had at Edgerton, and yet somehow he remained unscathed, in the moment however the only thought that came to his mind was to repel the attack, little thought to the consequences his death would bring his family.

    The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard shrugged ''Better brave stupid and alive then the brave, stupid and the alternative.'' he finished, nodding at a Darklyn freerider who had quickly found himself a new role as crab food upon the beach.

    ''All these men didn't have to die….the fortress will fall within the fortnight…..just as the Warrior above blesses those that show courage in battle, he abhors those that shed blood needlessly.'' Ser Roland Crakehall said piously, blood and gore dripping from his two handed great ax slung at the flank of his horse.

    ''Be glad you serve me and not my father….he would not have liked you much I fear.'' Vaemond said lightly, and Ser Harold Langward and Ser Corlys exchanged a knowing chuckle, the late King Aegon's cynicism was well known.

    ''And what's not to like?'' The big Crakehall bristled.

    ''I meant no offense Ser Roland, only to point out that, even after leaving behind the sept in King's Landing, I have not found myself lacking for interpretation of scripture while in your presence…my father was not a godly man.'' Vaemond said, causing the other two Kingsguard to laugh and even Ser Roland cracked a smile.

    The mood soon soured however as they approached Vaemonds tent of red and black cloth in the center of camp and saw the camp quartermaster standing next to a cage of ravens, a grim look on his face.

    ''A raven must have come in during the battle.'' Ser Harrold Langward mused

    ''Dark wings, dark words by the look on his face..'' Corlys Velaryon replied.

    ''Whatever it is, i'm in no hurry to hear it, let us have a few more moments of victory.'' Vaemond said, slowing his horse to a trot.

    He dismounted from his horse and handed the reins to a groom and went back to his tent, removing his shoulder plate and dressing in something more befitting a King before finally going to see the quartermaster, where Ser Roland Crakehall was pacing around impatiently.

    ''Quartermaster….I thank you for your patience….tell me, what news have you received.'' Vaemond asked.

    ''News from the Vale your Grace….and reports from Lannisport.'' The man said.

    ''The Vale first I think.'' Vaemond said, if he was receiving a raven it was likely from Nestor Royce, his Marshal, who had returned to the Vale to raise his host and do what he could against the rebels.

    ''Lord Royce writes that he marched into a trap at Narrowshade, west of Runestone, nearly three fourths of his army was killed or captured…he's fallen back to Runestone with some one thousand men and awaits further orders.'' The man said grimly.

    ''I told him to avoid a fight….to just threaten their flanks…with him defeated the Lords of the Vale will be able to march south into the Riverlands without fear of their flanks or rear….what was he thinking.'' Vaemond said, studying the parchment.

    ''He wrote that his scouts told him of a small rebel host and he pursued them, only to be met by over 10 thousand rebels…he writes that he takes full responsibility for the defeat.'' The quartermaster replied.



    ''Acknowledging his blunder will not bring the men of Runestone back.'' Vaemond said before sighing.

    ''Send a raven to Runestone informing him he is to take what remains of his host and join with the Sistermen in taking the small island castles off the coast….his men can still be of some use, small as it is….ill send 20 of my 50 galleys blockading Duskendale to transport him'' Vaemond commanded.

    ''What of the news from Lannisport?'' Roland Crakehall asked, himself being from the Westerlands.

    ''Vickon Greyjoy and some 15 thousand Ironborn landed at Lannisport, thinking to sack the city, they drove off a small force of 2500 men left to guard Lannisport without difficulty, routing them and set out to making ladders to assault the town.'' The man began.

    Vaemond made no move to interrupt, though he had an idea from the man's tone that what he said next would not bode well for his war efforts.

    ''Before they could attack the castle of Lanns Hall, Loren Lannister set upon them with a host of some thirty thousand while the Ironborn were landing 10 thousand more men, taking them by surprise, the fight was bloody but Vickon and his men were driven off with some 6000 dead and captured, they are fleeing south into the Reach.'' The quartermaster said.




    ''I suppose it could be worse, if your reports are correct Loren Lannister was bloodied as well, but if they had landed north at Seaguard they could be at Riverrun by now reinforcing the Tullys….instead they are fleeing south, no good to anyone and the Tullys remain isolated.'' Vaemond said, the calmness of his words not betraying the pit in his stomach.

    His victory at Edgerton seemed unimportant now, the war was fast going against him. Nestor Royces host was destroyed, the Greyjoys far from any other allies, and even the remnants of the levy at Duskendale had struck their own blow, ambushing a force of loyal clawmen on their way to Duskendale and slaying nearly 700 of them.

    Vaemond nodded ''If that is all I shall retire to my tent…thank you for your report quartermaster.''

    The man bowed and left while Vaemond entered his tent, washing the blood from his face with a basin of water.

    He then made his way to the large map of Westeros sprawled across a table and slowly removed the orange shield figure of house Royce from the Vale, placing it near the direwolf of the north and the rose of the Reach, bystanders to a war that was fast becoming a feast for the crows.


    Two Weeks Later, Outside the Walls of Duskendale

    The pale stone walls of Duskendale were alive with movement, despite it being early morning. Guardsmen in chainmail and spears stalked along the walls, while crossbowmen watched anxiously.



    Vaemond studied the walls from his horse, a good distance away from the walls and for good reason.

    Almost on cue, a large boulder landed on the plains outside the city, far away from any of the besiegers, but the crash of the stone was loud enough to keep many in the siege camp who had the previous nights watch from sleeping.

    ''They've got to be running out of boulders by now….I barely got any sleep last night.'' Ser Roland complained, the city of Duskendale had a single trebuchet inside the city walls and they had made good use of it, firing boulders over the walls methodically throughout the night, and just two hours ago one had landed a few feet away from one of the besiegers tents, killing two horses and wounding a camp follower.

    ''They will run out when they run out.''' Vaemond said curtly, his attention focused on scanning the defenses, his scouts claimed that there were some thousand men within the city walls and the captured garrison from the recently captured overlooking Dun Fort had confirmed this, Vaemonds own observations also aligned with these reports.

    ''We could make it stop….we have four thousand men, give the order and the city will be yours by nightfall Vaemond.'' Corlys Velaryon said.

    ''And the rebels arms did fail…under the pale walls of Duskendale.''' Ser Harold Langward mused.

    ''Lucky for me you are a better swordsman than you are a poet.'' Vaemond said with a small smile before shaking his head and continuing.

    ''We will starve them out, i'd like a fight as much as any of you, but there is no sizeable enemy host approaching, we have the time.'' the King finished.

    Before his Kingsguard could respond, the blaring of trumpets from behind startled them.

    Wheeling his destrier around, Vaemond, a hand on Blackfyres hilt immediately relaxed his grip when he saw the long flowing of house Baratheon, bright yellow silk with a black stag, waving in the wind, at the forefront of the column riding a black war horse was a one eyed burly man in dirt stained plate armor.

    ''My uncle.'' Vaemond said smiling, riding back to the camp to meet Orys Baratheon.

    Orys Baraethon had always been a big man with black hair as dark as coal, at his 50 years his strength remained, but the sides of his black hair were streaked with white, but despite his growing age, the lord of Storm End looked every bit a warrior.

    Vaemond dismounted and greeted his uncle, who had served as hand of the King for over twenty years with a clap on the shoulder.

    ''I had not thought to find you here Uncle.'' Vaemond said with curiosity.

    ''I had not thought to be here…..but here I am with some 15,000 men.'' Orys said.



    ''Where are the rest of your Stormlords uncle?'' Vaemond asked, his uncle had assured him he could raise at least 25 thousand men.

    ''I sent most of my strength south to the southern Westerlands to merge with Vickon Greyjoy surviving Ironborn that fled from Lannisport.'' Orys said, removing his plate helmet with golden stag antlers.



    Vaemond waited patiently for his uncle to continue.

    ''With this force here I had hoped to march to the Trident by way of Maidenpool, reinforce the Tullys but recent events have made that improbable.'' Orys said, taking a cup of wine.

    ''Recent events?'' Vaemond asked calmly, preparing himself for the worst.

    ''You haven't heard?'' Orys said, taking a sip of wine, Vaemonds' silence being enough answer for him.

    ''Samwell Tully has sent his forces to take the gold mines in Nunn's Deep…Loren Lannister will march to meet him with Lannisport secure, and with Royces defeat the Knights of the Vale will descend south from the bloody gate……if he had remained in Riverrun I could have reinforced him and we could have marched south to join with the Greyjoys and the rest of my forces…..but with him marching west he is beyond the point of both retreat and reinforcement.'' Orys said, as the veteran of half a dozen conflicts, he had a good mind for strategy.

    ''Do you think he has a chance?'' Vaemond asked.

    Orys shook his head slightly ''He will have good defensive positions, but the armies of the Riverlands will be hard pressed to defeat the Knights of the West, courage or no, Lord Tully has brought an army of trout into the lion's den.''



    Vaemond took the news silently, he had of course recognized the danger the Tully host was in, but he had hoped the Tullys would remain patient and defend their own lands, forsaking battle until they were reinforced, but Samwell Tully's sudden assault to the West had put them in grave danger with little hope of escaping a pitched battle.

    ''What will you do now?'' Vaemond continued.

    ''I'll ride south, join back up with my forces and the Greyjoys….as should you, finish your business with Duskendale today…that's my council…storm the walls and join with us in the south, the deserts of Dorne are no easy place to muster armies but within a month or two they shall be marching up the princes pass, together with your forces, mine, the greyjoys and Martells….we will have the men to meet Loren Lannister and the Knights of the Vale in a decisive battle.'' Orys said.

    Vaemond shook his head ''I'm not ready to march, I mean to siege Duskendale into surrender, save my men an unnecessary bloodbath….but I mean to raise several thousand additional men north of the Blackwater Rush, when Duskendale capitulates and I have those men I shall join you in the west uncle, you have my word.''

    Orys nodded ''I suggest you make haste Vaemond…the Ironborn are not known for their patience…but I will keep them in line…you can be sure of that.''

    The following morning the Lord of Storm's End would ride west with his host to join the forming loyalist army in the flatlands of the southern Westerlands, but not before sending a force of a few thousand men to chase off the surviving levy of Duskendale from their siege camp at Rooks Rest at Vaemonds request.


    4th Moon, 8024
    Mountains of Nunn's Deep, the Westerlands

    The soft patter of rain pattered against the red cloth of Lucas Blackwood's tent, but he heard little of it.



    He knelt before several small wood figurines on a wooden table, several candles burning, hands clasped around his longsword.

    May the warrior give strength to our swords and courage to our hearts as we prepare for battle

    May the smith give our shields fortitude in the face of peril and preserve our armor against the enemy.

    May the maiden preserve the lives of the young men that will fight upon these hills far from their homes and families, allow them to return unharmed

    ''Ser Lucas.'' A voice rang out, startling him from his prayers.

    A young man in the colors of his house peered into the tent, rain pouring down his steel helm.

    ''I gave orders not to be disturbbed.'' Lucas said, rising to his feet.

    ''The Westerman….they've broken camp, they are marching on our positions.'' The young man said.

    Lucas nodded slowly ''I suppose that's good enough reason…..leave me for a moment if you will.''

    Once the man had withdrawn, Lucas slipped his heavy black ringmail hauberk over his studded brigandine and fastened a steel helm over his head, fastening a sword belt engraved with a white weirwood tree.

    Taking one last look at the wooden carving of the warrior he snuffed out the candle with a chainmail glove and marched out into the rain.

    Over 10,000 of his countrymen had formed a defensive line stretching over the hilly high ground near the goldmines of Nunn's Deep. Marching on their position was a larger force of Westerman, their ranks awash with red and gold banners, shining in the sun which had emerged from behind the clouds.


    His own men were from every corner of the riverlands. A large number of his men had been raised from the lands surrounding Harrenhall and were Quoerhys men, fighting under the 4 white skulls on black and red. There were significant numbers of Frey and Vance men, as well as over 700 men of house Strong.

    They had been the first men to answer Lord Tully's call at Riverrun, and he had sent them to strike west while he raised another force, with the purpose of taking the fight to the Lannisters and keeping the fighting out of their own lands.

    They had laid siege to the castle guarding Nunn's Deep for two weeks before word came that the Lannisters were sending a force to repel them, the hills of Nunns Deep made for fine defensive positions however and Ser Lucas was agreed with Ser Symond Strong and Lord Garibald Perryn, the other commanders, that they could win a major victory on the high ground of Nunns Deep.

    As the highest ranking commander among them it was the Lord of Branstone that addressed their host even though Ser Lucas would be leading the center in the coming battle.

    ''MEN OF THE RIVERLANDS…..THEY SAY THE STRENGTH OF OUR PEOPLE COMES FROM THE STREAMS AND RIVERS OF OUR HOMELAND…AND YET WE HAVE LEFT OUR HOMES AND STRENGTH TO FIGHT AMONG THE DRY HILLS OF THE WEST.'' The Heavyset Lord said at the center of the line.

    ''THAT WILL NOT SAVE OUR ENEMY IN THE END, BECAUSE WE SHALL MAKE OUR OWN RIVER….A RIVER OF RED AND GOLD…WE SHALL WATER THESE HILLS WITH LANNISTER BLOOD….. YOU SHALL TELL YOUR GRANDCHILDREN OF THIS DAY…GIVE THEM A STORY WORTH TELLING.'' The Lord of Branstone loudly declared, earning a raucous cheer from the Rivermen.

    The Westerman wasted no time launching their assault and soon the battle was underway.



    Lucas Blackwood, mounted on a brown warhorse, took his position at the center of the defensive line on the high ground.

    We shall bear the brunt of the attack He thought to himself as he studied the Westermans plan of attack.

    On the left Ser Symon Strong was leading a sortie of his light cavalry reserve to slow down the enemy advance, while Lord Perryn was dealing with a charge of Westerman freeriders, but the enemy center was advancing their infantry in strength.

    ''LOCK SHIELDS.'' Ser Lucas commanded and his men at arms moved in front of the peasant levies and archers, forming multiple ranks of locked shields.

    The Westerman charged up the steep hill in all their heavy armor and soon the two lines came together in a great crash, with the Westerman being forced to fight upwards from below their enemy.

    Ser Lucas rode into the fray, turning away a spear thrust aimed at his horse's neck with his shield, pushing it forward until he heard the breaking of a finger.

    He urged his horse forward, seeing one of his men engaged in single combat with a westerman spearman on the outskirts of the line, his warhorse bowled into the man, sending him crashing to the ground with a grunt and the westerman tumbled down the hill.

    He saw a westerman swordsman parry a strike from an axeman from Harrenhall, delivering his own strike that nearly took the unfortunate man's head off.

    Lucas rode at him, slashing his sword at the mans shoulder, drawing blood, turning away a slash at his leg with his shield, he delivered a ringing blow to the mans iron helm, sending him falling to the ground groaning, Ser Lucas left him there, a wounded foe was a defeated one and he had never been one to kill helpless enemies.

    Turning to the left, he saw that Ser Symonds sortie had led the Westerman to drive him off with heavy cavalry, and their knights were charging his position. On the left, Lord Perryn was keeping the Westerman freeriders at bay with a small line of archers and crossbowmen.




    After several more minutes, the Westerman heavy infantry had enough of their exhausting attack on the center, and fled down the hill, leaving behind a grisly scene of dead and dying, with the dying slipping down the hill when their strength left them.

    His men began cheering but Ser Lucas raised a gloved hand ''IT'S NOT OVER YET.''

    Sure enough, the Westerman center sent forward their next wave, this time a charge of lightly armored freeriders.

    They rode up the steep hill, an awkward task but making surprisingly good time.

    An idea came into Ser Lucas's mind as he saw them ambling up the steep hills.

    ''HEAVY INFANTRY ON ME.'' He shouted, charging down the hill.

    The Men-at-Arms of the center followed him down the hill with a roar.

    The charge took the Westerman center completely by surprise, and it was far too steep for the light cavalry to turn around and flee at speed so they could do little but sit vulnerable on their horses as hundreds of angry Rivermen charged at them.

    It was a slaughter, he saw one of his men throwing a hatchet like a throwing ax, taking one of the riders in the middle of the forehead, sending him tumbling from his horse, landing on the rider behind him, similar scenes being seen all around.

    They made short work of the freeriders, sending the survivors fleeing down the hill back to the Westerman center which began to withdraw in good order.

    Turning to the left he saw that Ser Symon Strong had pushed back the charge of Knights, while on the right, Lord Perryn was preparing to deal with a line of pikemen who were slowly advancing up the hill.

    Ser Symon, having dealt with his foes had his archers fire a volley on the advancing Westerman, while Ser Lucas ordered his tired men at arms to take the pikeman in the flank.


    That soon put an end to the pikeman's advance, and soon enough the entire Westerlander army was retreating from the field, leaving thousands dead and wounded.

    The victorious Riverlanders set about looting the dead, while the three commanders rode to debrief.

    ''The day is ours…..we have given the Lannisters a bloody nose and more.'' Lord Perryn said, grinning, blood running down his helmet.

    ''They were certainly bloodied…but there will be more battles to fight….that was not the full strength of the Westerlands far from it.'' Lucas said, dismounting tiredly from his horse.

    ''Perhaps not, but they have lost more than just the battle. In the midst of the fighting I chanced upon Lord Lefford of the Golden Tooth, I put a lance through his hip and gut…the men of the Golden Tooth will surely not fight now that their lord has fallen.'' Lord Perryn said smiling.



    Ser Symon Strong, never one to disagree, nodded his assent but Lucas frowned.

    ''He would have had more value to us as a hostage than dead my Lord…it is true the men of the Golden Tooth may abandon the Lannisters, but Lord Leffords heir will raise them again, no doubt wanting to avenge his father…..slaying him was poorly done…your own lands sit on the borderlands.''

    Lord Perryn grumbled at that ''Perhaps you are right…..I had not thought of it like that, it is the duty of a son to avenge a father.''

    Before Lucas could respond there was a cacophony of trumpets, and several shouts of alarm.

    Lucas turned and what he saw made his heart sink.

    Two huge hosts of men had entered into sight, one approaching the right of their position and another from the center where the first defeated host ahd come from, the hosts proudly bore the devices of the houses of the Westerlander lords.



    ''Prepare the men for battle….reform the shield wall.'' Lord Perryn commanded, remaining calm to his credit.

    ''There is not going to be a battle my Lord….we have been beaten.'' Lucas said sadly.

    Lucas Blackwood was right, what followed after could hardly be considered a battle.

    The enemy had nearly 1500 knights and the tired Riverman could not resist them, high ground or no.

    Lucas ordered his own men to surrender, as did Ser Symon Strong, there would be some killing of course but he knew it was hopeless. He would have remained alongside his own men, but his retainers urged him to retreat while he could and continue the fight from the Riverlands.

    Lord Perryn remained defiant however and held his ground against Lord Farman of Fair Isle until at last he was forced to flee the field, and many of his men were slaughtered for their leader's foolishness.



    Out of the 10,000 Riverman who had held their ground at Nunns Deep, only 2000 managed to escape, with 8000 being killed or captured, while the Westerlanders lost some 3200 men, mostly as a result of the diversionary attack, though the loss of the lord of the Golden Tooth, overlord of the area of Nunns Deep, made it a bitter victory for some.




    Shortly after, Lord Tully, leading some 15,000 men, marched into the west, not knowing of his forces' defeat at Nunn's Deep as the survivors had not been able to reach him. On his way to merge with his forces at Nunn's Deep Lord Tully would be ambushed at the Pendric Hills where the battle of Borrows would be fought.



    Samwell Tully would lose over half of his forces in the battle, losing 8000 men dead, wounded or captured, compared to 4000 Westerlanders.

    The Tullys would slink back into the Riverlands following these 2 battles, their ill fated advance into the mountains of the Westerlands costing them near 16000 men, and severely weakening the Tullys ability to contribute to the war.

     
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