The camp was roaring in celebration over the overwhelming victory over the Kings forces. After Daemons showcasing of his aura ability 'Mother Rhoyne' most of the kings forces lost the will to fight, despite outnumbering the rebels. Though when the massive war beasts of the golden company shook the earth during their charge, their morale was completely broken. Since they were surrounded on all sides they had no choice but to surrender— with only few of the stronger knights and lords escaping.
All men were given a chance to bend the knee to Robert Baratheon —even the kings men. Though this did not come without punishment; he was lenient on those who owed their oaths to the king or to lords that supported the king, despite Robert's anger and rash decisions he was not an unreasonable man. However to those who had sworn oaths to House Baratheon and then broken them... he held no mercy for those lords. If they wished to keep their land by the end of their war they would need to distinguish themselves else he would find newer loyal men to rule their land.
Many of them bent the knee, but few did not. Those few were held as prisoners and would be deposited at Griffins roost until the end of the war where they could be properly judged.
Many of these decisions were made by Stannis. Robert was a warrior through and through, he would swing his hammer but don't try to make him sit in a seat for more than an hour without even a hint of wine. Robert was lucky to have Stannis with him, despite his young age he was a brilliant tactician and even better at logistics. Stannis was not afraid to raise those of lower birth either, often he would say that he would take talent over nobility in any situation. This often caused strife between him and the other Stormlords, of course when your brother is Robert Baratheon few will question you. Not to say that Stannis lacked in the aura department. Like in other martial disciplines he was a more than competent warrior and would likely go on to become a powerful aura user in time.
Now that the battle had been won Robert's forces had swelled to 40,000 men with the Golden Company adding 15,000 onto that. The decision now was where to go; Robert wanted to make a beeline straight for Kings Landing, but at the moment that wasn't a viable option. There were many armies between us and them, and laying siege with our backs turned was a foolish endeavour.
After much debate between the Stormlords, Stannis, Robert and even Daemon. It was decided that the best course of action would be to go through the Reach and go directly to the Riverlands where by that time the Stark and Arryn forces will have marshalled. They would have a force capable of rivalling the king by then and they could decide the fate of Westeros in one decisive battle.
Then after that, all that was left was the king.
...
Daemon sat alone in front of his own personal campfire as he watched the celebrations from afar. He liked to meditate after every tough battle to settle his aura, more than that though he just didn't feel like celebrating. Gerald and Oswell, he didn't think they were truly bad men and in the end he couldn't blame them for holding true to their oaths, but it still brought him no pleasure killing them. They were strong warriors that could've done much good for Westeros if allowed to, but they had sworn their oaths to a madman.
His mind was also consumed with thoughts of Lyanna and Lysa. He blamed himself for what had happened to them, he should've been more aware, he should've seen through Rhaegars falsehood. Now they were gone and he had no knowledge as to where. The only comfort he had was Rhaella was safe, and heavy with his child.
Daemon breathed out and stopped meditating and instead reached for a bottle of Arbour Gold that they'd appropriated from the enemy. He drank from the bottle deeply, emptying its contents before throwing it off into the distance. He couldn't help but think things will only get harder from here. The enemy underestimated them, but after his display against Gerold, it was likely the enemy would be spooked. Having someone even close to the level of a Knight of the Kingsguard on the enemies side would make anyone wary, they would likely converse on them.
'It doesn't matter...' he thought to himself. He would kill as many as he needed to in order to get them back. Then he'd finally leave this place for good, this land brought nothing but pain and suffering, the iron throne truly was a curse.
Hearing footsteps behind him Daemon used 'Scout' only to discover it was Howland. He turned his head to greet his young apprentice who had accumulated a few injuries during the battle. He had a deep gash on his face, his arm was in a splint and his stomach was bandaged —all injuries that would fully heal in a few weeks. "Are you well Howland?" Daemon asked as he gestured for the younger boy to take a seat.
"Yes Lor— Daemon," he said as he took a seat next to his instructor/friend. Despite saying he was fine, Daemon could see otherwise, the look on his face was all too familiar with those who had been thrust onto a battlefield. He would've liked until Howland was ready before subjecting him to this, but in the end you can never be ready for the things you see in battle. 'He shouldn't have to see it at all,' Daemon thought to himself, but reality wasn't that kind. His first time was when he watched Aerys burn down Duskendale, slaughtering soldier and peasant alike. If he closed his eyes he could still smell the burnt flesh.
"It's okay to speak your mind Howland, I won't think less of you for it," Daemon said trying to encourage the younger lad to talk. Despite that he still seemed reluctant, it could've been him. He was different than the man Howland met at Harrenhal.
"I know I've changed Howland... I know my actions of late have been guided by my anger, but know I still have your best interests at heart and I will still fulfil my obligations to you despite what happens," Daemon said slowly.
"I know... I just did not want to burden you with something so childish," Howland replied.
"Speak and then we can decide if it is childish," Daemon said with a shrug.
Howland nodded before taking a deep breath. "It was when you were fighting against the Kingsguard, I was cornered by two Knights from the Reach, they were not that strong, individually I think I could've beat them, but they had a strange ability..."
"What was it?" Daemon asked.
"They were able to perfectly synchronise their attacks, when I used 'Focus' on my eyes I could see their Aura was joined," he explained.
Daemon nodded. An interesting ability, they must've both hit the limit of what they could achieve and found a unique way to break through that limit.
"I struggled against them, they constantly had me on my heels, and in the end I lost control and I stabbed one through the neck with my trident..." Howland said as he looked down at his feet.
"The other man howled in rage and he charged me, I tried knocking him out but he wouldn't and so I killed him too." Howlands fists began to tighten. He expected Daemon to snicker at him and tell him to not be a coward, that this was the way of life and he would be expected to kill again and again and he should just get used to it.
"I'm sorry you had to do that," Daemon said putting his hand on the younger man's shoulder.
Howland looked up at him his eyes wide with shock. "You don't think it's stupid? That I'm being cowardly?" He asked.
Daemon shook his head. "It's not stupid Howland, and don't let anyone ever tell you that it is."
"Growing up I was taught by my Uncle that killing is necessary and to not fight is cowardly, but when I got older I realised that killing is a cowardly act," Daemon stated.
When Howland looked at him in confusion he chuckled "People kill their enemies... because in some way they're afraid of them, afraid of what they may do, what they may be capable of in the future."
"There are many alternatives to killing your enemies but many of them are difficult, killing is the easiest..."
"It takes courage to stand before your enemy... to put your life on the line, but it takes even more courage to spare them."
"How can you do that? Spare someone who wants to kill you," Howland asked.
"You're asking the wrong person," Daemon said with a chuckle.
Howland scrunched his eyebrows. "Will you not spare the Prince? I know the King is another matter entirely but you have said the Prince was your best friend."
Daemon nodded. "I will kill Rhaegar, I will kill the Kingsguard and I will kill the King," he said in a low tone.
"Rhaegar... he broke my heart, his betrayal cuts me like no blade has before, in many ways it is because of him I survived the Kings training," Daemon said as he looked into the flames.
"I could forgive him one day, when the time comes it'll bring me no pleasure to kill him," Daemon said as he shook his head.
"Why kill him? Why not find another way?" Howland asked.
Daemon paused for a few moments before answering, "Because in the end I'm a coward too, I am scared for Lyanna, I'm scared for Lysa, for those I love and for all of Westeros..."
"If I fail to stop them then the consequences are too horrific to even think about, so I will kill them and all those who support them," Daemon said resolutely.
"Why tell me all of this then?" Howland asked with a mix between confusion and anger. He had told Howland he wasn't a coward and encouraged his ways and yet he would do the opposite. It was like he thought Howland couldn't handle it, like he wasn't good enough or couldn't be relied upon.
Daemon looked up and saw the anger in his face, he smiled. "I knew you were special the moment I saw you fight... both in mind and body."
"I'm telling you this cause I failed, I told myself I'd stay the same as I always was, and I even convinced myself it was true... but now I can hardly recognise myself."
"You're not a bad man Daemon," Howland tried to say.
"Maybe... but in a world like this being good usually means not committing horrific deeds," Daemon replied.
He then looked up at Howland. "The world needs more people like you Howland, promise me that you won't change," he asked.
Howland felt slightly overwhelmed at what he had heard, enough so that he felt his eyes begin to water. "I promise," he replied.
Daemon smiled and he clenched his fist and pushed it towards Howland chest just above his heart "Good... I'm putting my hopes and dreams with you."
...
It was late when Serra rode into the cane from Griffins Roost. The guards around the camp had tried to hassle her when she rode in but a quick flash of her aura had them on their arses quicker than they could call for help. With Griffins roost secure they could start to form a supply line depending on where they went from here. But all that war stuff could wait till tomorrow, right now she missed her twin. They had been apart for too long and despite knowing how strong he was she missed him terribly.
Jumping off her horse she tied it to a post and began to look around for Daemon. She knew he wouldn't be taking part in the celebrations, he'd much prefer a quiet campfire where he could unwind. She kept her aura quiet as she moved, and stuck to the shadows which wasn't hard considering the sun had long since set. As she walked however she heard someone mention Daemons name, she walked closer to check if Daemon was there.
What she saw however was three people around a campfire. The younger Baratheon brother —Stannis?— and two of the Stormlands lords that she hadn't bothered to remember the names of. She kept on the edge of their awareness, as aura users their senses were much better than a regular person. She wasn't concerned about them finding her, they were practically baby aura users compared to her, even Daemon had said she was comparable to a Kingsguard. She could probably stand right behind them and they wouldn't notice until she revealed herself.
"You have to admit that it's strange, don't you?" One of the Lords said to Stannis.
"Indeed, to bring the Golden Company back to Westeros," the other commented.
"He has come for vengeance against the Targaryens," Stannis said tonelessly.
"Surely you aren't so naive my Lord," one of them said while chuckling. Though a stern look from Stannis shut that man down.
"Lord Tarth speaks true, Daemon is a Blackfyre and he has brought one of the strongest standing armies across the narrow sea... this is more than just vengeance," the other Lord said.
Lord Tarth nodded "I mean no offence my Lord, but we have to speak up, the plan to put your brother on the throne is in jeopardy."
"How so?" Stannis asked.
"Even if what you say is true Daemon does not hold nearly enough men to subdue Westeros," he added.
"What if half his enemies were taken out for him?" Lord Selmy asked.
Stannis paused, it wasn't too outlandish to believe. Blackfyres had a history of rebellion and Daemon was in a position to do it should the Targaryens and their ally's be defeated. "If the Targaryens fall... an argument could be made that Daemon Blackfyre should inherit the throne." Stannis commented. Their whole claim came down to them having dragon blood through their grandmother, but in comparison to Daemon it would be like a drop in the ocean.
"So you see how dangerous this man is!" Lord Tarth said.
"I witnessed his battle against Gerald Hightower first hand, you do not need to lecture me on how dangerous he is," Stannis said his face becoming emotionless once more.
After considering the matter for a few minutes in silence Stannis stood up "I will speak to my brother about it," he said as he walked away from the campfire.
Anger started to burn within Sara as she listened to the storm lords conversation. 'Fucking traitors!' She hissed in her mind. If it were not for her brother they would've been slaughtered by the Kings forces. Her fingers twitched towards her sword as she considered killing them all now, but she didn't. Instead she calmed herself and instead went to find her brother, he would know what they should do.
After nearly an hour of searching she finally found him sitting at a campfire with his young apprentice Howland. When she approached he looked up at her and smiled before getting up. "Serra I'm glad you're back," he said. Prompting her to run the rest of the distance and jump into his arms. She sighed in content as she felt the void inside of her fill, she wished she could stay like this forever.
She pouted as Daemon pulled back and sat back down. Not letting him get off that easily she sat on his lap, when he showed no signs of protests she leaned closer. "Did everything go well at Griffins Roost?" he asked.
She nodded "It did, the castle is under our control, I left men from the company to guard the place so we could use it to retreat to," she explained.
"Smart," Daemon said which made Sara hug him closer.
Serra wanted to enjoy this moment more but when decided it would be better to tell him what she learned. She leaned back so she could make eye contact with Daemon. "The stormlords are plotting, they are trying to convince the younger Baratheon brother that you are trying to take the Throne," she said with a serious expression.
Howland burst out laughing but quickly caught himself as both Daemon and Serra looked at him. "What you don't think I'd make a good king?" Daemon asked with a small grin.
"From how much you want to leave Westeros I don't think so," he replied with a sheepish smile.
Serra giggled at that before her expression turned serious. "What are we going to do? Want me to deal with them?" She asked.
Daemon shook his head. "Let them plot, at the moment it's in our benefit to stay with them, they know this too, they won't make any moves until after the Loyalists have been defeated."
Serra thought about it for a second before nodding. "They still need someone able to defeat the King, if they betrayed you too soon not only would they risk losing their own men, but they'd risk not having enough people to fight against the King."
Daemon nodded. "Ignore them for now it's better they think they have an advantage."
"If you insist brother," Sara said as she leaned back into his touch.
"I think I'm going to sleep now," Howland said feeling more than a little awkward at the blatant display of affection.
Daemon nodded. "Get some rest, we will likely be hard marching tomorrow."
Howland nodded before making his way to his tent leaving Daemon and Serra alone.
"I missed you so much Daemon," Serra whispered as she gripped his body tightly pressing herself as much as she could into him.
"And I you," Daemon replied. Like Serra he felt the slight emptiness he never knew he had fill up when he touched her. It was comforting, something he needed as of late.
"Will you do it tonight? Please?" Serra asked quietly.
Daemon nodded before looking up at Serra. He then leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers. She started moaning into his mouth the moment they started kissing, her grip on him tightened so much he felt it would've snapped a normal person. Serra had started asked him to do this when they had come to Westeros, he didn't at first as he wasn't in the mood for those kinds of things at the moment. Though he had finally relented and even he had to admit the feeling was incredible.
He couldn't blame Targaryens for their incestuous ways if this was what it felt like. Every time her tongue brushed against hiss lips, or against his tongue it felt like he was on fire. Every nerve in his body was alight with his touch and he couldn't get enough of it. Sara eventually wrapped both legs around him and started grinding herself against him. The problem with this was it always got out of hand, their bodies were just too compatible for each other and Daemon knew if he let it go too much he would end up fucking her.
He moved back disconnecting the kiss despite Serra whines. "Let's go to sleep now," he said to her. She pouted but nodded and insisted that Daemon carry her to the tent. She could be a right princess at times, but Daemon still loved her.
He was glad she was here with him, the days ahead were going to be dark.
————————————————————-
A hard march with an army of over 50,000 wasn't an easy endeavour. They needed to get down to the riverlands to join with their allies, and luckily the Rwaxh was filled with easily traversable terrain, however it was also filled with numerous enemies and likely had another army waiting for them. They would know more but for some reason their scouts were not returning, it was concerning to say the least and at times Daemon almost wanted to go himself.
Daemon rode near the front with Howland and Serra by his side. He had gotten annoyed with the constant arguing and bickering of the Stormlords and decided to try and see what might've been causing the problems. He had yet to find anything, but he knew in his hard something was wrong. "Serra... I want you to take five of your best men and go Scout out the area past Summerhall and into Ashford and Ciderhall, I have a feeling we have people waiting for us," he said.
Serra nodded and turned to ride off but before she could Daemon grabbed her. "Be careful, don't put yourself in any danger," he said with slight concern.
"I'll be fine brother," she said winking at him before riding off.
Meanwhile the rest of the army made camp at the ruins of Summerhall. When Daemon made his way to where the rest of the lords made camp it looked as if Robert was ready to destroy the remaining structure. He couldn't blame him, this was where Rhaegar was born and if there was someone who hated Rhaegar the most it was Robert, though that might change after the war was over.
Sitting with the rest of the lords they all discussed what they should do next. While getting to the riverlands was the long term goal there were many other things that lay before that. War took resources and many of the lords thought they should attack and loot the Reach before going. Others including Daemon didn't think it was worth the risk, the Reaxh had by far the largest army and the most aura users. The longer they stayed here the more likely it was they'd be attacked, and while it was unlikely they'd lose. They could lose enough that it change the outcome of the war.
Unfortunately for Daemon and the others who agreed with him. Robert was a vengeful and easily bored man, it had not even been a week before their last battle and he was itching for another. He didn't just want to loot farms along the way, but he wasn't to sack Ashford and the other castles in the area. Daemon felt glad he had sent Serra off now, because it seemed as though Robert wouldn't take anymore advice from them.
According to Robert they had momentum now and they needed to keep it up before the loyalists were able to amass their full forces. Daemon could see his point, but in the end it was too risky. Despite having perhaps three of the strongest aura users in Westeros it didn't mean they were invincible, it only took one moment, one moment where they were not paying attention, where they were distracted, where an arrow slipped through a weak part of their aura and right into their skull.
They could also be exhausted and overwhelmed by aura users. Despite what people may think they couldn't just launch attack after attack and not be weakened by it. Daemon had large aura reserves but they were not limitless, if he had been attacked after his fight with Gerald by someone even half as good as him then he'd have been in trouble. Well in normal circumstances he would, but considering he had activated Spoils of War it had refilled and even boosted his reserves.
None of that mattered to Robert, he wanted to fight and he wanted to kill, and at the moment Daemon couldn't afford to split from him. There were too many enemies for him to deal with alone, with Lyanna and Lysa on the line he wouldn't take any risks, even if it meant dealing with someone he didn't like.
So in the end it was decided that Robert would attack Ashford, Ciderhall and Longtable. They were small holds and would likely be conquered in a week, while he did that Daemon would take the Golden Company towards the Grassy Vale and conquer it which would secure their route north. If they did it fast enough they wouldn't need to worry about anyone marshalling a force against them.
He was glad that at least Stannis knew this was a naive viewpoint as the reach likely already had an army marshalled and stationed somewhere in the Reach.
In the end Daemon had enough, the conversation became pointless once Robert had made up his mind. He wanted to be alone and started going through the ruined castle. As he walked through the ruins he couldn't help but think that it must've been beautiful before it was burnt down. As he walked the corridors he found himself emerging into an open courtyard with a heart tree in the centre. He found it strange that such a tree would be here, the old gods had no place with southerners —Targaryens especially.
Placing his hand against it he was reminded of Lyanna, he hoped she was okay. He dropped down to his knees in front of the heart tree. He didn't believe in the old gods, but even now he found himself praying to them. It was amusing that despite all the power he had he was still helpless to save the people he loved.
Daemon lay against the tree, it was surprisingly warm. Despite the rest of the castle stone being burned and discoloured the heart tree remained ashy white. Leaning his head back he closed his eyes and quickly fell asleep. At least he would've, but he was disrupted when he heard the thumping of what sounded like a heartbeat. Frowning he stood up only for the sound to stop, he leaned forward again placing his ear against the tree and the sound returned again.
Standing up he started to inspect the heart tree, he released his aura and let it wash over the area. Despite the slightly strange feeling the tree gave him, he could feel something just beneath the surface. Looking down he started patting the stones until he found one that was loose.
He pulled the stone out and his eyes widened when he saw what was underneath. Reaching down he pulled out what looked like an oval ice blue stone except this stone was scaled.
"A dragon egg..." Daemon whispered to himself.
————————————————————-
Jon Connington, the recently anointed Hand of the King wished he could be anywhere else at the moment, but with the King in denial he needed to take a more active role in the war. That meant coming to the Reach and meeting with the fat and unpleasant Mace Tyrell. Right now he sat with the man in their war camp. They had nearly 70,000 men marshalled and yet they had been sitting here waiting, only giving men to Gerold and Oswell at his request.
Jon was willing to allow this as he had believed that Gerold would be able to put down the rebellion before it had been started. Unfortunately this didn't seem to be the case, a few days ago a few lords and their retainers had come looking battle scarred and exhausted. They had spoken of how Gerold and Oswell were dead and the traitors had been joined by Daemon who had the backing of the Golden Company.
Things had turned from an annoyance into something more serious. He couldn't afford to let a the buffoon Mace Tyrell command this army anymore. So using his power as Hand of the King he took command and took 50,000 men, marching them down to Ashford while leaving Mace and telling him to take his men down to Goldengrove.
With Jon Connington were the strongest knights and lords, but most importantly Randyll Tarly. Reputed to be the strongest Lord of the Reach in both mind and body. He had proven himself an excellent strategist during the war of the Ninepenny kings and an even better warrior as he slew multiple strong aura users with his Valyrian steel sword.
Jon Connington sat in his tent now with Randyll Tarly standing before him. "I'm sure you can understand the reason you're here," he told the older man.
"I can," Randyll replied choosing not to mince words. He knew his own skill as well as his own value, but he was also humble enough not to boast about it like the other peacocks of the Reach.
"Daemon Blackfyre, Robert Baratheon and even a few more noteworthy Aura users are making their way through the Reach, I don't think it needs to be said but we cannot allow them to join their allies in the north," Jon said with a stern expression.
"You wish for me to fight them?" Randyll said with a raised eyebrow, he knew he had a good reputation with the sword, but this was asking too much.
Jon shook his head. "I want to defeat them, crush their army, without it they can be picked off at a later time," he explained.
"Can you do it?" He asked.
"It would be difficult, we don't have many aura users that could hold them off long enough for them to fall into a trap." Randyll replied.
"If we did?" Jon asked.
"Then I believe I could defeat them," Randyll replied.
Jon Connington smiled he then gestured to a guard inside who left the tent. A moment later a young man with brown hair and a light stubble on his face. On his chest was his house emblem, lips and skulls split into different quadrants. "Lord Tarly this is Ser Richard Lonmouth,"
"Rhaegars squire..." Randyll said as he looked at the younger man.
"Not anymore," Richard said as he came to stand next to him.
"Ser Richard will be under your command, he has spent years under the instruction of both Rhaegar and Arthur, he will be able to fight against Robert at least," Jon stated.
"You're mistaken Lord Hand," Richard said as a severe expression crossed his face.
"I will kill Robert Baratheon."
(AN: So I'm back and with a set up chapter to the next battle which will obviously take place in Ashford. For those of you who don't remember Richard was mentioned in the early chapters of the fic. He was in river run and lost against Petyr. Anyway it's gonna be pretty exciting next few chapters. I hope you enjoyed it.)
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