-Aurion Vorysion-
I stare at the letter from the little dragon, turning it over in my hands. He writes well enough, I will grant him that. Flows of blood and kinship, and of shared enemies and mutual interest. He asks for my aid, for my army and my dragons.
Like I would win his war for him.
Even if we are distant kin the line of my cunt of a brother, and whore of a little sister, and four hundred years of separation of that cunt's line of separation why should I lift a finger for him? He is nothing to me, less than nothing.
Technically, Aegon's aunt is my concubine. Daenerys and she has produced me, children and for that simple reason that boy or his "Hand" has tried to use that connection to guilt me into helping them with their war.
But that question lingers, scratching at the back of my mind. What should I do with the Sunset Kingdoms?
I have no interest in them. Truly like many of my fellow Valyrians the true Valyrians, not the diluted dregs who fled to Dragonstone I have always considered that damp green land beneath our notice. A frontier province at best, fit only for sheepherders and iron miners and squabbling petty kings
But that place holds the other gate. The entrance to the realm of the Great Other's servants.
The vision I had so long ago of the wall of ice, and the army of the dead, it came from the north of that land.
I still need to speak with the so-called Ifequevron after all they have knowledge of the Great Other, knowledge I require before I move against him.
If they do not cooperate, I will simply exterminate them and deal with the Great Other myself. The entry into the Sunset Kingdoms would be the easiest route to use. The gate is there, waiting. But also the hardest, because I would have to make all those mongrel savages submit to me first.
I could use the connection to Hightower. His daughter is currently carrying my child in her belly Lynesse. I had well bred her, since she was pretty in her Andal way, her white hair had made her look similar to a woman with the blood of 40 unfortunately she was just a andal with a tiny drop of dragon blood.
I would not use the opportunity to add some of the savage genes into my lineage. That would be beneath me. A cadet family, perhaps. Something to rule the Sunset Kingdoms in my name while I attend to greater matters. The First Men or the Andals might provide something of actual value eventually, after a few generations of proper breeding. Or I could simply burn them all and be done with it.
On to another matter.
The conquered cities of Essos have yielded their secrets to me, one by one but… Most of what I have taken is terrible. Easily replicated by powers I already possess.
I will have to travel to Asshai. The shadowbinders have knowledge the warlocks lack. I do not look forward to the journey. Asshai is a cursed place but it some mongrels can survive the shadow lands so can I as a god.
But I will not travel to the shadowland until I ended the great other.
-Aegon-
I sit at the head of the table, my fingers drumming against the worn wood, and listen to the complaints.
They come from all sides. Lord This has not sent the promised grain. Ser That has not paid his levies. The Reach scouts have been seen near our supply lines again. The Stormlords are restless, unhappy with the taxes I have levied to pay the Golden Company. The Dornish are demanding more say in the war council, as if I have not already given them seats at every table that matters.
My bastard half-brother has four kingdoms behind him. Four. The North, the Riverlands, the Reach, and now the Vale has finally declared for him. Aemon Snowfyre that jumped-up bastard who should have stayed in Winterfell has gathered more power in a single year than I have managed in my entire campaign.
And Joffrey Baratheon still holds the Westerlands and crownlands. His uncle's support, more specifically his great-uncle, since the Kingslayer rots in King's Landing and cannot claim his seat. Ser Kevan Lannister is no Tywin, but he is competent enough. He has pulled the Lion's forces back behind the hills, regrouped, rearmed. He will not make the same mistakes his brother made.
Meanwhile, I have two kingdoms. Two. The Stormlands, battered and bleeding from the fighting with Stannis. And Dorne, which follows me because my wife is a Martell.
It is not enough. It will never be enough.
I stare at the map spread across the table and feel the weight of it pressing down on my shoulders.
The council meeting drags on.
My current small council or what remains of it sits around me in this minor keep, a drafty stone box that barely qualifies as a castle. We have not had a proper capital since we left Storm's End. King's Landing is still held by the Lannisters, and until I take it, I am a king without a throne.
The losses have been heavy.
Jon Connington is dead. The man who raised me, he fell in one of the skirmishes with the Reach. Cut down by Randyll Tarly who had beheaded Jon and taking the head with him Jon body sent to his kinsman.
Jon is gone, and I am alone in a way I have never been before.
The rest of my council positions have been filled by lords who quickly stood with me and some captains of the Golden Company. And some of my kin.
Oberyn Martell serves as my Master of War. The Red Viper is as dangerous as his reputation suggests, but he is also impatient, prone to taking risks that make my captains argue with him during some of the battles we have bought, and after in some of these counsel meeting he has been faithful.
Quentyn Martell serves as my Master of Law. He is quieter than his uncle, more thoughtful, but no less committed to the cause.
I was grateful for the both of them.
After some hours the meeting finally ends.
The lords file out, still arguing among themselves about supply lines and troop movements and the proper disposition of cavalry. They will not resolve anything today, and I am too tired to pretend that their squabbles matter to me.
Harry Strickland remains.
The Captain-General of the Golden Company is a cautious man, perhaps too cautious for his own good, but he has been loyal. He has not fled when the tide turned against us. He has not broken his contract, despite better offers from the other claimants.
He approaches my chair and holds out a letter. The parchment is yellowed, the seal cracked and faded.
"Illyrio Mopatis's last will," Harry says, his voice flat. "It arrived on a ship from Pentos this morning. You should read it, Your Grace."
I take the letter from his hand.
I break the seal and begin to read.
The handwriting is Illyrio's, though shakier than I remember. The words are in High Valyrian, a language he taught me when I was small enough to sit in his lap.
To my son, Aegon...
As I read the letter I could feel as I started hyperventilating reading the context of the letter as a horrible realization it's finally confirmed to me.
I open my mouth to speak, to call for Harry, to do something, but no sound comes out. My chest tightens.
The letter falls from my fingers, fluttering to the floor.
The last thing I see is Harry Strickland's face as he shouts for a maester.
Then everything goes black.
-Robb Stark "the young wolf"-
Looking at the giant skull of the mountain I could only be amazed on how big the skull was the same size of a large rock.
The bones of the mountain were being preserved. The knight of clegane was put to death for his crimes throughout the riverlands but this has not satisfied the bloodlust of several of the lord and knight from the riverland. After all, there was one last clegane still living in Kings Landing, as part of the kingsguard of the bastard pretender.
Sandor Clegane, the Hound, who serves the bastard pretender in King's Landing Joffrey's water sworn shield.
The Riverlords want him as they want the Clegane line extinguished, root and branch, so that no more monsters can rise from that cursed house.
I cannot blame them.
And with the news of the death of his cousin Robert it's only increase the bloodlust of riverland lord and knight including his own family members like his uncle and great uncle.
As for myself cannot lie to myself… I also wanted blood, especially after my father had given me our ancestral sword ice….
I could feel a connection with the sword, the same similar connection I felt with my dire wolf gray wind. I had asked Jon about it only for him to agree as he also felt similar connection with darksister. But I had also asked my father only to received a weird look from him.
He said he had never felt such a thing from Ice. That to him, it was a sword. A fine sword, a priceless sword, but a sword nonetheless.
I do not know what to make of that.
Perhaps it is different for us. Unlike my father, me and my siblings have bonded with dire wolves, including Jon but considering the sword, he's bonded with that might do more with his dragon blood than anything else.
Making my way to the room that would be used for this council meeting I take my seat next to my father at the long table. The lords file in my uncle Edmure, the Blackfish, Lord Bracken and Lord Blackwood (still glowering at each other across the table), Lord Mallister, Lord Vance, and a dozen others.
And Jon.
My brother sits at the head of the table now. King Aemon Snowfyre, though I still struggle to call him that. To me, he is Jon my bastard half brother but regardless I needed to mentally accepted that my brother was now king.
The council begins.
"The blackfyre pretender is dead. We should march to Kings Landing and take the capital there's no more threats than you need to worry about" say Lord Bracken.
It seemed no one in the council disagrees. I see nods around the table.
But everybody waited for the Kings decision.
"The bastard's hold on the Iron Throne is weak," Jon says finally. "Insignificant. His great-uncle has pulled out of the war, but we cannot march on King's Landing while the Stormlands and Dorne remain hostile at our backs."
Lord Bracken opens his mouth to object, but Jon raises a hand.
"We need to deal with the Stormlands first. The men who followed Aegon Blackfyre, are scattered, leaderless, and terrified. They will bend the knee when they see us coming. And Dorne..."
He trails off, his eyes finding my uncle Edmure.
"Your Grace," my uncle says carefully, "Dorne, if not treated lightly, could cause more problems in the future. If they go independent, we will be unable to bring them back into the fold. The Dornish have never been conquered. Not by the dragons, not by the Storm Kings or any other ruler foreign from Dorne".
Jon nods slowly.
"I will prepare an offering," he says. "A gesture of goodwill. A marriage perhaps, or a trade agreement, anything that could be considered not unreasonable."
He pauses.
"Or maybe Dorne needs a new Lord Paramount."
-Arianne martell "the Queen of dorne"-
I stand at the edge of the pyre and watch them prepare my husband's body.
Aegon looks smaller in death than he did in life. The firelight flickers across his face, softening the hard lines, making him look almost peaceful.
My throat goes dry.
My father's gambit has gone to hell.
Whether Aegon was truly Rhaegar's son or just a pretender raised by Illyrio Mopatis a Blackfyre, as some of her people claim, it does not matter anymore. He was my path to power, only for him to die not even in battle, but for his body just die out on him.
I do not believe it.
He was poisoned. He must have been poisoned. I know no other way he could have ended up otherwise. The Lannisters, perhaps. Or the Snowfyre pretender in the Riverlands….
But regardless the camp fell apart after Aegon died.
The fighting started within hours.
Members of the Golden Company blamed Aegon's Dornish guards. The Dornish blamed the Stormlords. The Stormlords blamed other group. Fists flew. Swords were drawn. Men died before anyone thought to ask why they were fighting.
It took a full day for the camp to return to any form of order. A full day of shouting and threats and near-duels. The captains finally restored discipline, but the damage was done. The alliance was broken because their only claimant was dead.
The majority of the Stormlords returned to their homes. They marched back to Storm's End with their tails between their legs, carrying the bodies of their fallen. Perhaps they will try to crown Edric Baratheon as their new king. The boy has the blood, after all. Robert's bastard, legitimized by Aegon himself. Or perhaps they will return to their old loyalties, bending the knee to whichever king seems strongest.
It does not matter to me. The Stormlands are no longer my concern.
The Golden Company stayed behind. They have nowhere else to go. The majority of Essos is now under the dominion of the supposed Emperor of Valyria.
I hear they are traveling to the Riverlands. To offer their swords to the Snowfyre pretender, perhaps. Or to carve out a kingdom of their own among the ruins of the war.
I do not care.
My father's gambit has failed. But I am still a Martell and I am still the Princess of Dorne. And Dorne has not bent the knee to any king before joining the seven kingdoms with in the rule of daeron the "good".
Perhaps it is time we returned to our old ways.
I will go home. I will gather my father's court and I will decide what comes next. We can hold Dorne against any invader. The passes are narrow and the mountains are high. We have done it before.
-Lord Jaime Lannister-
The war had went terribly.
After my father dead and the death of my little brother the war has turned to the worst with the vale joining the pretender stark bastard.
At least I hasn't been completely useless. I have eliminated from the capital any potential turncloaks. The formal spymaster, Varys, was the first to go. I personally beheaded him as the war turned for the worst. The eunuch's spy network collapsed after the creation of this new eastern Empire his agents in the east went silent one by one, swallowed by whatever darkness that "dragonlord" has unleashed and his spies in the kingdoms were fewer…
The eunuch spy network collapse after the creation of this new eastern Empire and his spy in the kingdoms majority of them varys had lost contact with them due to the war.
Using that as an excuse I had personally executed varys for his failures. The eunuch was a turn cloak anyways from the previous dynasty, I wasn't going to allow Joffrey to have a turn cloak in his council.
Now, with the new developments of the war the Blackfyre pretender dead, his forces scattered, the Snowfyre pretender growing stronger I have sent a letter to the Rock to call back the banners. We need every sword we can muster.
And I had also been given the task by Joffrey to round up the levees around the Crown lands and take back territory from the riverlands and to bring back the narrow sea houses back into the fold.
Me and the Lord commander barristan went to Rosby to Duskendale and start sending letters of submission to the narrow houses so they band the knee.
Before they let Kings Landing an envoy was sant to dragonstone with a proposal. To the daughter of stannis baratheon if she band the knee to Joffrey she might keep the castle, but also be eventually married to Joffrey make her the future queen.
Joffrey and cersei did not like it, but it was better then their current situation at this point in the war they four kingdoms against them at least with this marriage they could possibly pulled in the stormland to support them and some other houses from the narrow sea.
I also sent other marriage packed between different Lord around the Crown lands and other kingdoms between a bunch of Lord mostly Lord who were widowed or with no wife or heir who had not been wet yet or were also a widow
Like Lord Monford Velaryon who despite converting to the old faith of the 14 flames was still a widow after his wife, recent death after birthing a daughter. Velaryon was an old house and with the promise of becoming master of ships, he doubted the man wouldn't accept after all the Velaryon was currently the most powerful Lord of the crownlands.
I gathered the armies of the Crownlands. We set out for the Riverlands with high hopes and full bellies, ready to reclaim what had been lost.
Two weeks into the march, we were ambushed.
They came out of the dawn mist like ghosts. The Stark bastard Aemon Snowfyre led them personally, his white dragon banner flying above his head.
The fighting was brief as me and my men were brutalized. He had positioned his forces perfectly and had waited for the perfect moment to strike.
When the dust settled, I was on my knees. My sword was gone and my golden armor was dented and bloody. My men lay dead around me or were being herded into groups, their hands bound, their faces pale with fear.
All the knights and lords who had followed me were captured. Every knight, every lord, every man who had sworn to fight for Joffrey. The common soldiers were given a choice: the sword or the black. Most chose the black. The few who refused were cut down where they stood.
And I was forced to bend the knee to Aemon Snowfyre.
I knelt in the mud before a bastard oh how the honorable eddard stark fools us all along pretending the silver Prince bastard was his own. And now I swore fealty to him. Another oath to a bastard king this would be my second one after my own bastard.
"Did you commit incest with your sister?" The bastard had asked me as I was swearing my filthy. "Did you father the bastard claiming to come from king Robert? Are you the true father of the boy on the Iron Throne?"
I insisted that I did not. I had lied to him, I felt ashamed that I couldn't protect my sister and now was likely that her and the three of my children would be put to the sword, I care not for my bastards, but I still love cersei but I have lost. I could've fought back until the bitter end but then what who would succeed me as Lord of the rock, my little brother is dead and the next in line was my craven uncle. My uncle Kevin did not respond to my calling for the banners or if he did it would've been too late to do anything. And so I told him that I had never slept with my sister, that Joffrey was Robert's son, that the rumors were nothing but lies spread by our enemies.
He did not believe me. I could see it in his eyes. But he did not press further.
Barristan Selmy was forced to take the black.
The old knight knelt before the Snowfyre pretender and accepted his judgment without complaint. It was clear why Barristan was seen as a turn cloak for submitting to Robert.
-Eddard stark "the kingmaker"-
As the kingslayer was thrown to stay in one of the mini towers of Harrenhal I couldn't help but sigh the kingslayer had escape taking black for the second time.
The war have been going well for them with only three more kingdoms to join the fold, well two now since a letter was sent to Casterly rock and to swore fealty to the king, ser Kevan Lannister was not his brother and if whatever I heard about him was true, he wouldn't push his luck.
Eventually some days later banners can be seen coming closer to the castle from the south, all of them being stormlander houses and with them, the Golden Company.
Roberts bastard son Edric Storm had come with other stormland houses and members of the golden company to swore fealty.
The boy similarity with his father was so shocking looking almost identical to the memory I had of my first time ever meeting Robert when we were both fostering in the vale.
The Lord and landed Knights were granted guest right including the essos sellswords to the dislike of the Lord and knight.
"I, Edric Storm, son of Robert Baratheon and Delena Florent, do swear fealty to Aemon Snowfyre, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men. I pledge my sword to his cause, my lands to his crown, and my life to his service and relinquish any claims on the iron throne of my bloodline. I swear it by the old gods and the new."
"Rise, Lord Baratheon," Jon says. "Rise and take your place at my side."
The other Stormlords followed. One by one, they knelt and swore their oaths. The Golden Company followed, their captains bending the knee in the name of their men.
Edric was also betroth to Sansa as a showing of goodwill. It was a good match but I want Sansa to first meet Edric before anything became official.
The image of another blonde prince enter my mind. Even if the boy was not the spawn of the King slayer, the boy was cruel and craven One of my worst mistakes was accepting the betroth had to ask out me with his "son".
Edric look like a good lad at least.
The members of the Golden Company, who were Noble descent, were promised land once the king sat on the iron throne.
Now the last kingdom to bend the knee is Dorne.
-Aemon targaryen "the white dragon"-
As I hold the sword of kings in my hand, I can only thank the gods for the early death of the Blackfyre pretender. Both the sword Blackfyre itself and the original crown of the Conqueror would have given that pretender so many symbols of legitimacy. Symbols I would have had to pry from his cold, dead hands.
I would have to repay the captains of the Golden Company and young Edric for the return of these items. After all I am of the house of the dragon now and the last of my line.
From a bastard to a king, I would also have to reward my uncle for his service to me after all most of my men wouldn't even be under my banner, if it wasn't for him.
I would have to reward him even more than I planned. Obviously I would return the gift to the North command, maybe turn the north into a principality, my uncle deserves nothing less.
-Lord Monford Velaryon-
After they're so tragic again of Ser Stannis Baratheon many of his formal Batterman quickly submitted to the other king.
For myself, I had decided to stay "loyal" and I moved quickly, seizing control of Dragonstone before the news of Stannis's death could spread too far. I took over the Regency of "Queen" Shireen Baratheon Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, though that title grows more hollow with each passing day.
The war of the six kings has caused chaos throughout Westeros. The extinction of several noble houses some tracing their history back to the Age of Heroes or the coming of the Andals has left the realm reeling. Great names that once commanded armies and held vast lands are now nothing but memories. Of the three remaining monarchs, it was clear that we were the weakest by far so they were only really had two choices we had left submit to one of the two kings.
Currently in my hand, I had two letters, one of them written by the hand of king of king Joffrey the bastard, Lord Jamie offering my "Queen" to swear fealty to Joffrey and unite both lines through marriage Shireen would become Joffrey's queen, and Dragonstone would pass to their children.
I might have accepted it if it wasn't for the fact that the lions were losing the war. And King Aemon has sent a better offer. Not for my lady, but for me specifically.
If his lady and her vassals swear fealty to him, they would receive a pardon and positions in court. But the letter was clear: I was offered my house's former position. I would be made Master of Ships. The same position my ancestors held during the reigns of the Targaryen kings. The same position that gave House Velaryon its power and prestige.
I would be a fool to refuse.
Already, I am writing to my kinsmen in Claw Isle and Stonedance. I have instructed them to prepare their men to travel to the capital. We will need every sword we can muster if we are to present ourselves as loyal allies. Through the years, I have positioned several of my kinsmen with the name Velaryon in Dragonstone. Loyal men, and trustworthy men. I eventually plan for my heir to marry Lady Shireen, for my grandsons to be Lord of Dragonstone and finally become High Lords in their own right.
With king Aemon terms lady Shireen would keep her lands and titles and so my long term planned could continue.
With foresight I made sure to get rid of any loyallist of that reach whore and her fellow believers of that red priest's nonsense.
Unfortunately Stannis pet witch had left the seven kingdoms hours after the man's death.
Regardless Selyse Florent was sant to the silent sister and all fellow believers in the red God were put to the sword. Afterwards, taking over the island by putting my own men in positions wasn't very difficult.
As I lit a candle shaped like a dragon with 14 heads. Putting my hands together I started praying to the 14th flames hoping for guidance in this stressful time.
-Emperor Aurion Vorysion-
As I felt the cold air making contact with my skin I know I was getting closer to the real enemy.
I have decided to finally eliminate the Great Other.
I will not waste my time with the Sunset Lands. I have no desire to trudge through their muddy fields, to parley with their barbarian lords, to sully my presence with their petty politics. The gate is there, yes, but I have no need of it. Why would I enter through the front door when I can simply tear down the walls?
Instead, I plan to fly to the home of the Other to the heart of their frozen realm and end them once and for all.
Currently, in my true form, I fly through the Long Ocean. My five heads cut through the clouds, my wings blotting out the sun. Beneath me, the water churns and boils in my wake, steam rising where my golden fire touches the waves.
The journey is long, but I am patient. I pass over lands that no living man has seen. The Shivering Sea gives way to something else a frozen wasteland of ice and snow that stretches to the horizon and beyond. The White Waste, the land at the edge of the world.
The cold grows more intense as I fly deeper into this frozen hell. I feel it even through my scales, through the fire that burns in my chest. This is no natural cold as I could feel the essence of death coming from this cold.
I am close now. I can feel them the Others. Thousands of them, gathered in several frozen fortresses. No, something more. A frozen city, with a giant frozen castle at its center. A capital for their civilization the seat of power for whatever ruler controls them or for the great other himself.
I descend through the clouds, my dragon form casting a shadow over their fortress. I see them look up, their pale faces turning toward the sky, I can notice several expression coming from several of them from confusion to anger and pure hostility.
Slowly, I return to my humanoid form as I fall toward the frozen ground. The wind screams past me, the cold biting at my exposed skin, but I do not flinch. I land on the ice with a thunderous impact, cracking the frozen ground beneath my feet.
On both of my hands, two weapons appear. Lightbringer in my left hand, the blades white flames covering it. And on my right, the Demon King's Longsword, crackling with crimson lightning that arcs across the frozen air.
I had also made sure to make myself some enchanted armor before coming here specifically with enchantments against the cold and anything else I could find in these lands. The black steel gleams with runes of protection, warmth, and power. It is not as strong as my dragon scales, but it will serve.
The Others emerge from their fortress. Hundreds of them, their swords of ice gleaming in the pale light.
I raise Lightbringer high, and the blade blazes with white fire that pushes back the darkness. The Others hesitate, their pale eyes narrowing at the light.
"Come," I say, my voice echoing across the frozen plain. "I have traveled far to meet you. Do not disappoint me."
At my back large red portals open up, as several dragons pour out of the portals. And like that the start of the new long night started.
-Part 3 War for the the western kingdoms-
A continuation of the history of the War of the Western Kingdoms, as recorded by Maester Gerold of the Citadel.
The Fall of King's Landing
After the capture of Lord Jaime Lannister at the Battle of Harrenhal, King Aemon Snowfyre marched directly to King's Landing. The host of the North, the Riverlands, the Reach, and the Stormlands followed close behind, their banners flying high and their spirits bolstered by the string of victories that had brought them to the very gates of the capital.
They found the city gates open.
Lord Monford Velaryon of Driftmark, who had been serving as Regent to the young Shireen Baratheon on Dragonstone, had arrived at King's Landing days before the army, leading a fleet of Narrow Sea houses under the guise of swearing fealty to King Joffrey. He brought with him the lords of Claw Isle, Stonedance, and other houses of the Crownlands who had grown weary of Lannister rule.
Lord Velaryon and his men were welcomed into the city. The gates were opened to them, and they were granted quarters within the walls. They were fed, housed, and given the courtesy due to lords who had come to bend the knee.
And then, when the hour was right, they struck.
The Narrow Sea lords seized the gatehouses, the walls, and the key thoroughfares of the city. They cut down the Lannister guards who had been stationed to watch them, slaughtered the City Watchmen who tried to resist, and threw open the gates to the advancing army of King Aemon.
The battle for King's Landing lasted less than a day. The defenders, caught between the betrayal within the walls and the army without, had little choice but to surrender. The Red Keep fell. The Iron Throne was taken. And Joffrey Baratheon or Joffrey Waters, as his enemies named him was dragged from the throne room in chains.
King Aemon ordered trials for all those who had served the Lannister regime. The judgments were swift, and the punishments, while harsh, were measured.
Joffrey Waters was given the choice between the black and execution. The boy king, whose cruelty had earned him the hatred of the realm, elected for a trial by combat.
King Aemon, however, declared that it would be a trial by seven an ancient tradition that required seven champions on each side to fight to the death.
The men who fought for Joffrey were ser Janos Slynt the formal Lord Commander of the city watch, ser Sandor Clegane, ser Meryn Trant, ser Arys Oakheart, Ser Boros Blount, ser Mandon Moore, Ser Preston Greenfield.
As for the king champions were himself and foster brother Robb stark heir to the north, ser Balon Swann (who after was granted a white cloak), ser Garlan Tyrell, ser Loras Tyrell (who also was granted a white cloak), Ser Brynden Blackwood heir of house Blackwood, Ser Gendry hammers a recently knighted young man who has showed great talent was knighted by Eddard stark.
After hours of combat king Aemon ended up victorious with no losses in his side. Joffrey and his brother, Tommen Waters, were sent to the Night's Watch both castrated, so that their line would not continue. Myrcella Waters was married to Ser Gendry Hammers, who was granted lands and made a landed knight.
After the conclusion of the trials, King Aemon distributed lands and titles to those who had served him faithfully.
Ser Harry Strickland, the Captain-General of the Golden Company, was granted the Lordship of Evenfall Hall on Tarth. The seat of the extinct House Tarth, which had been extinguished during the fighting with Stannis Baratheon, passed to the sellsword captain who had proven his loyalty to the new regime.
The officers of the Golden Company were granted knighthoods and lands of their own.
Ser Black Balaq and Ser Gorys Edoryen was granted lands in the Crownlands.
Ser Lysono Maar was granted lands and a keep in the riverlands.
Ser Franklyn Flowers, the Bastard of Cider Hall, was legitimized as Lord Franklyn Fossoway and granted the old lordship of house Fossoway and new land and keep.
Second, third, and fourth sons of the great houses, who had fought alongside the king, were also granted lands and titles. The new regime was built on a foundation of rewarded loyalty.
Ser Kevan Lannister came to the capital weeks after the fall of King's Landing. The acting Lord of Casterly Rock bent the knee before King Aemon, swearing fealty to the new regime and accepting the judgment of the king.
The terms were generous: the Lannisters would retain their lands and titles, but they would pay a heavy indemnity for their crimes, and they would be stripped of their position as Wardens of the West. The position was granted to Lord Addam Marbrand for the generation, a loyalist of the new regime.
With that every single kingdom has sworn there filthy except one. Eventually after a momo later Dorne sent a letter announcing their filthy to the iron throne.
In the next moon Prince Doran Martell of Dorne, whose daughter Arianne had been married to the dead pretender Aegon Targaryen, sent a letter to King's Landing. The letter was brief and to the point: Dorne would not bend the knee.
In the letter, Prince Doran declared himself the Prince of Dorne, ruler of a new kingdom independent from the Iron Throne. He cited the failures of the Targaryen kings to protect Dornish interests, the death of his daughter's husband, and the chaos of the recent wars as justification for his decision.
King Aemon's response was immediate. He declared that Dorne was still a part of the Seven Kingdoms, that its independence was treason, and that he would not rest until every inch of the realm was under his control.
The Dornish War has begun.
Dictated by Maester Gerold of the Citadel, transcribed by acolyte Petyr, in the fifth month of 299 AC.