YEAR 113 AC
Red Keep ― Small Council chambers…
It has been more than eight-and-a-half, almost nine months, since the sudden departure of two of the crown's influential individuals. Many had noticed the now two empty seats on the council. With no Master of Ships or Master of Whisperers, there was no doubt going to be many questions. Lord Corlys was the wealthiest man in Westeros and commanded the realm's best fleet, and Prince Aeonar was one of the best spymasters of his time. This would certainly complicate things.
A messenger then arrived. "Your Grace. My lord Hand," he arrived. "A contingent of landed knights have been reported gathering in large numbers before sailing south to invade the Stepstones with their private army… and three dragons, towards Grey Gallows and Torturer's Deep. It seems that despite our protests, Lord Corlys and your brother Prince Daemon have declared war on the Crabfeeder."
Otto accepted the missive and looked it over while Viserys leaned back in his chair and rubbed his brow. He finished reading the message and sighed. "It would seem that Corlys, Daemon, and Aeonar each made a pact with each other. Corlys would provide the ships, Daemon the soldiers, and Aeonar the intelligence."
Lord Lyonel tapped his fingers against the table strongly. "This will be seen as nothing less than a declaration of war against the Triarchy. They will respond in kind," he remarked.
Lyman shook his head. "The crown has not declared war on the Triarchy. This is the act of a single lord."
"And being supported by two sovereign princes," Grand Maester Mellos scoffed.
"A prince that was betrayed by those he trusted not once, but twice now," one of the Lykirī Mēre assassins accompanying Aeonar to Dragonstone arrived through an open window behind the council. "Our order has trained Prince Aeonar well in our arts. Without him, the losses would have been insurmountable. The conflict in the Stepstones will be resolved in less than a year instead of five. Be fortunate the son long surpassed the father, for the dragon within his very soul… has awakened."
Ser Harrold Westerling placed himself between the King and the assassin, his hand on his sword. "And you would do well to remember that it is the King who commands here." He said firmly but Viserys rose and placed a hand on the Lord Commander's shoulder.
"Harrold, enough," Viserys said gently as he looked at the assassin. "Do you bring a message from my son?"
The assassin was of Yi Ti origin. "He brings no message… to a father who's failed him twice over," she shook her head. "The young prince strikes out on his own, to make his mark on the world, to correct the father's mistakes. Any other parent would be proud of their child's success, but it would seem the blood of the dragon wasn't thick enough for you to not trust him nor acknowledge all he's done for you." She tilted her head sideways. "Your son did love you but taking away the one called Aemma Arryn and spurning him more times seemed to rip that love away… and replace it with something else entirely." She tossed a dagger at the table, sticking it to the wood. "So, the Lykirī Mēre instead will pass on the message for him: 'stay out of his way… or lose him forever. For the Heir of the Flames will bring about the restoration of the House of the Dragon.' Farewell, Your Grace… May we never meet again."
The assassin then backflipped out the window. Viserys looked over the edge, but she was nowhere to be seen. Whoever these Lykirī Mēre assassins were, they were highly trained and considered extremely dangerous. Yet… they follow Aeonar's commands?
Red Keep ― Royal apartments…
Viserys sat in his room, polishing a statue of a miniature stone dragon that overlooked his model city of the ancient Valyrian capital.
Beatrice Peake, the king's second consort, was in the room as well. In her arms, she was carrying the king's infant son, Prince Aegon – named after the legendary conqueror himself. The child had the classic Valyrian features of pale skin, silver-blonde hair, and purple eyes and bore a strong similarity in appearance to his father and older half-brother. She walked up from behind Viserys and gently placed one of her hands on his shoulder and began to massage them. "How can you allow your son to disrespect you like that?" she asked.
"He is young and angry. I was much the same at his age."
"This is more than youthful defiance. He has all but declared an open rebellion against your rule. Launching a war on his own, absconding with the royal fleet, making cause with your traitorous brother."
"Perhaps this is for the best. War will keep Daemon out of trouble and some bloodletting will humble Corlys. With time Aeonar will come around. Even my cousin Rhaenys made peace with our grandfather before the end."
"And what if he does not? What if his conquest of the Stepstones only fuels his ambition and what if he comes to take your throne?"
"Utter nonsense," Viserys said dismissively.
"Oh, my sweet love," Beatrice said as she kissed the top of Viserys's head. "You are so kind. But victory does strange things to people. Once they have a taste of power and authority they only want more. I would be wary, the Aeonar that returns from his battles may not be the one you knew."
Unknown to either of them, someone was listening at the door to the chamber. None other than Rhaenyra herself. She had planned to come and speak to her father, but after what she had heard she decided to head to her chambers and had a letter she wanted to send to Dragonstone. Aeonar and Alicent would want to know about this.
While Viserys had remarried, things at court were not the same. Aeonar ― his firstborn son and heir ― despises him, Rhaenyra had become distant… It felt like no matter how hard he tried, the king knew his family had been fractured. Divided. Things were not supposed to be this way. No matter how hard I try, I cannot please everyone.
"Your Grace," a steward approached, "Lady Alicent is here to visit."
As if on cue, Alicent arrived. "Good morning, Your Grace," she curtsied with a slight groan.
Viserys turned to see his daughter-in-law had come to visit. Alicent made many trips between King's Landing and Dragonstone to routinely check in on Rhaenyra and the king and her father. But there was something different… Her belly was swollen! She was pregnant and must be nearing her due date soon. As evident on her face, Alicent looked tired. The king's eyes widened with shock and with joy. He quickly rushed to Alicent's side, taking her hand into his own. "My dearest daughter-in-law, y-you are with child?!" a smile spread on his face. "This is wonderful news! We must inform the realm, a tourney must be held, a feast, a ball." The idea of his first grandchild filled Viserys with unprecedented joy. "You… you've told of this Aeonar, yes? Where is where? Is he on his way home? He should be by your side." His words came out so rapidly that it took Alicent a moment to process them.
"E-Ehhh, Your Grace," Alicent politely tried to settle her excited father-in-law down, but she understood his feelings. "A ball does sound wonderful. It would be perfect for all of us to be together like it was before." She exhaled. This pregnancy was taking a toll on her. "Aeonar and I exchange messenger by raven when we can. It worries me that he is out there, but I have faith in him. He once told me that he believes this baby might be a boy." She breathes shakily again. "But if we do have a son… We would wish to name him…" Alicent breathed again. "Jaehaerys, after your grandfather the Old King."
Viserys beamed with pride, his eyes misting slightly with joyful tears as he nodded his head. "The perfect name for a Targaryen prince. Though if it is born a girl... would you and Aeonar do me the greatest honor of choosing the name Aemma?" he asked as he held his daughter-in-law's hand.
"Of course. It's been Aeonar's wish if we were to ever have a girl." Alicent then groaned. "Sorry, Your Grace. This pregnancy… it is more exhausting than I thought it would be."
"She needs to lie down, Your Grace," one of the attendants informed the king. "In her condition, she's more likely to give birth at any time and needs to be ready."
"Of course." Viserys snapped his fingers and suddenly a group of servants appeared with a palanquin chair. "Take the Lady Alicent to Prince Aeonar's chambers. See to it that she is as comfortable as possible." He commanded as he walked her over and helped her ease into the chair. "I shall send the Grand Maester to look you over and let Rhaenyra know you are here. She will be overjoyed to see you again, Alicent. This evening you shall join me and Beatrice for supper." He said with a smile at the idea of a family meal.
And though Alicent kept her face calm and composed, she had to contain the urge to grimace at the mention of Beatrice. Rhaenyra had sent her a constant stream of letters, sent through personal carriers since she did not trust the maester to not read them. These letters all detailed what had been happening since Beatrice had come to court.
Red Keep ― Prince's Aeonar's room…
Alicent was resting, groaning, and visibly uncomfortable. Only her father Ser Otto Hightower ― the Hand of the King ― and her older brother, Ser Gwayne kept her company. "Ooooh…" she complained. Her first pregnancy was taking a toll on her.
Gwayne, the ever-dutiful elder brother, held his sister's hand and tried to make a joke. "I remember mother often said that same when she was pregnant with you," he spoke.
Otto, who had been pacing the room, paused to swat his son on the back of the head. "Do you imagine you were any easier?" he asked rhetorically.
Mellos had come to see Alicent, but Otto had turned him away. He would not have a man whose primary recommendation for treatment was always leeching looking over his daughter. Before departing from Dragonstone, Alwyn had examined Alicent and assured her that the baby was developing normally. He had given her an essence of ginger root to help with nausea and strictly forbade her from consuming any wine, ale, or fish.
As the Hightowers kept one of their own comfortable, the doors to the room flung open for Rhaenyra to make quite an appearance. "Alicent," she exclaimed. The princess rushed over to her best friend's bedside and embraced her warmly. "How did you make it over here from Dragonstone in your condition?"
"Mmm… some of our household attendants had to carry me," Alicent replied with exhaustion. Beads of sweat were forming on her brow. "But the travel by sea, I kept throwing up the whole way. Maybe it's because of this pregnancy that's made everything so unpleasant."
"Honestly, I can't wait for it to be over soon. You're almost due and you shouldn't be moving around so much." Rhaenyra wiped Alicent's brow clean. "Did you sleep?"
"As much as I could get, yes."
"Any other discomforts? Or unusual habits?"
"Other than the occasional food cravings I have no control over, no. No, mostly my lower back and feet have been aching a lot."
Rhaenyra then glanced down. "Has there been any word from Aeonar?" she inquired. "Did my brother say anything?"
Alicent seemed lonely. "The last I heard, Aeonar was at the Stepstones with his troops. I do not know where in the Stepstones he is, precisely, but Brother Farrier has shown me how to get a message to him through his encrypted network," she explained. "How he utilizes puzzles and combines multiple languages into his messages as a spymaster, I'll have no idea."
"Heh! That sounds like him. High Valyrian is not an easy language to learn, but garbling up Ghiscari and that… Yi Tish, or something, makes my head spin. Ah well if it's what stops wandering eyes from looking or something." Rhaenyra shook her head. "Did you tell him about the baby in your last message?"
"I did, yes… but I worry it won't reach him in time. All we can do now is… wait. And hope."
"He'll come back, Alicent. I know he will. Otherwise, I'll just have to get Syrax and fly down there so I can kick his ass."
"Rhaenyra!" Alicent chuckled.
― The Stepstones―
Grey Gallows ― Main encampment…
Nightfall had befallen the main camp overlooking Grey Gallows. Since the invasion began, House Velaryon's fleet coordinated with Daemon's army and Aeonar's spies to outmaneuver the Triarchy forces to seize several of the Stepstone's island chains throughout the Narrow Sea. Last they heard; Lord Corlys was besieging Torturer's Deep while Prince Daemon boldly attacked Bloodstone. Further reports from his agents informed Aeonar that the Triarchy's main supply base was hidden within Grey Gallows, and, upon a closer inspection, they were discovered.
Aeonar stood upon the high ground overlooking the battlefield, with Vaelor and Seasmoke close behind him silently hissing. The Triarchy forces dispatch dozens to guard this outpost, but if his allies can seize it, the Crabfeeder's men would suffer due to a lack of available rations. They would be forced into a war of attrition, however, the young prince understood that the enemy can snatch up whatever food they can from the seas as the Velaryons can. Whatever the case, Aeonar had his eyes on the target like a dragon stalking its prey.
One of the Lykirī Mēre's young acolytes emerged from the shadows. "Wǒ de wángzi (My prince,)" she spoke in Yi Tish. "Wǒmen de xiōngdì men shēnshēn dì zhāgēn yú dírén de duìwǔ hòumiàn, bìng yǔ Sānquánfēnlì de lǐngdǎo xiāng rónghé. (Our brethren have ingrained themselves deep behind the enemy ranks and blended with the Triarchy's leadership.)"
"Tāmen zhōng yǒu rén bèi fāxiàn liǎo mǎ? (Have any of them been discovered?)" Aeonar inquired.
"Bù, wǒ de wángzi. Yǐnyǐng shì wǒmen de péngyǒu, chénmò wǒmen zuì dà de cáifù. Wǒmen de mùbiāo bù zhīdào shíme huì jīzhōng tāmen. (No, my prince. The shadows are our friends, silence is our greatest asset. Our targets do not know what will hit them.)"
"Hǎo. Gàosù tāmen kāishǐ wéi líng jìhuà Zuò Zhǔnbèi. (Good. Tell them to begin preparations for Plan Zero.)"
"Shì de, wǒ de wángzi. (Yes, my prince.)" The acolyte silently fled the scene undercover of night, leaping over the edge and hopping from boulder to boulder, embarking on her raft to flee the scene without being detected.
Aeonar once more surveyed the field until his ears faintly detected the sound of footsteps approaching from behind. Glancing over his shoulder, he could see his top lieutenants Laenor Velaryon and Joffrey Lonmouth arriving. The heir to Driftmark had a remarkable growth spurt and had already shown signs of exceptional talent in warfare and strategy, whereas his companion provided a support role. Laenor had grown to closely resemble his father Corlys, with a slightly lighter skin tone from his mother Rhaenys Targaryen, inheriting an aquiline nose, silver-white hair, and purple eyes. And of course, being dragonrider to Seasmoke, there would be significant advantages as well.
"My prince," Laenor reported. "Our scouts report the Triarchy forces have begun to mobilize their rations in preparations for the next shipment while foot soldiers on the ground are keeping an eye out for potential ambushes." He unveiled a map. "We've just about ten ships lying in wait. Triarchy forces are said to number in the hundreds if not close to two thousand strong. But until then we have the advantage due to the cover of night: the element of surprise with a combined attack by land, sea, and air. With their access points cut off, they will be completely isolated from the main unit. Of course, my house continues to supply the balance if an attack by the sea does occur."
"We also have a report that the Triarchy's captain-general assigned to the Grey Gallows, Gaerys Valtaris, is hidden deep within the enemy's supply base," Joffrey mentioned. "His guards have formed defensive ranks, but if we take out their commander, the rest will certainly follow suit. Wounding the Triarchy and strengthening our morale before the final push to drive them out of the Stepstones for good."
He assesses the enemy's strengths and weaknesses, evaluates each scenario closely, and has a good mind for warfare. The son far outclasses the father. Ser Laenor will no doubt prove quite useful to my plans. "An early victory. I suppose it is not like this battle is going to last long anyway," Aeonar studied the map. However, I have a feeling that it will not be long before chaos rises again. "Ser Joffrey, you and your men will act as a decoy and strike from the southern flank to draw the enemy's attention. Ser Laenor, once Gaerys's men respond to the first wave, you and Seasmoke will attack from the east and cut off their escape route."
Laenor and Joffrey both nodded and moved to their respective positions.
"*Reeeeeh*" Seasmoke vocalized. Measuring 100 feet long with a 135-foot wingspan, Seasmoke was a pale, silver-grey dragon loyal to his rider, Laenor. Although still relatively young, he nevertheless was a nimble flyer in the sky although not as fast as Vaelor.
"*Hssssssss!*" Vaelor snarled.
Aeonar and Laenor climbed to their respective dragons and fastened their harnesses. Both glancing at each other, they gave a brief nod before giving commands for Vaelor and Seasmoke to take to the skies. Both dragons gave a brief roar and soared high; though Seasmoke dipped down, Vaelor remained hidden under the cover of darkness. His black scales and dark crimson membrane blended in perfectly with his surroundings and were the perfect camouflage.
Ever so silent, Aeonar observed the battle taking place below. Ser Joffrey's main unit was progressing along the front lines in drawing out the Triarchy, giving Laenor the chance to swoop down with Seasmoke and strafe the enemy with dragonfire. He could hear the screams and shouts, some forces scattering to make a run for it, only to be cut off from escaping.
"This battle's a real waste of time!" a Celtigar soldier taunted. "We could defeat this scum in our sleep!"
Another soldier from House Sunglass chimed in. "Look at 'em! Running for the hills with their tails tucked between their legs!"
Aeonar watched as more Triarchy troops advanced to engage Joffrey's men in battle in response to their taunts. And just like that, they break down their defensive lines. With Ser Laenor riding Seasmoke into battle, the enemy will have a tough time concentrating on a single target. If they take their eyes off the dragon, our men on the ground will catch them off-guard. But if they focus solely on our troops, they will not be able to keep an eye out for Seasmoke from above. Clever work, you two. Keep drawing them out. He then watched as Laenor and Seasmoke again rain down a barrage of dragonfire on the enemy, scattering more and keeping them from fleeing to their ships.
"Argh! It is an ambush!" a Lynese Triarchy officer exclaimed.
Aeonar then turned his head to see several Triarchy ships redirecting their trebuchets to hurl flaming projectiles at his forces. This startles them and causes the tide to slowly shift. The prince realizes that if the bombardment keeps up, the Triarchy will have a significant advantage and his allies will be in big trouble. Having to break his cover, he pats Vaelor three times. "Naejot, Valor. (Forward, Vaelor.)" he commanded.
Vaelor roared and flew higher into the sky before making a wide turn to begin a sharp dive. With the wind blowing in his face, Aeonar gripped his harness tightly.
"Keep up the pressure!" one of the Triarchy sailors called out.
Another one heard a faint roar before looking up. "Dragon!" he warned.
By the time the captains and sailors realized, Vaelor had already gotten too close.
"Dracarys!" Aeonar commanded.
Vaelor's jaws open and burst forth an eruption of fire, decimating the boat in front of the Triarchy fleet docked at anchor, flying past them with unbelievable speed before arcing away for a second sortie.
"They're coming back for another pass!"
"Man the scorpions!"
"Turn it around! Turn it around!"
Vaelor destroys another handful of ships as he strafes the Triarchy fleet.
"Fire!"
Enemy sailors launch a barrage of scorpion bolts at the banking Swiftrunner, but Vaelor swoops around and snarls at the little people who shot straight at him and his rider.
"Dracarys!" Aeonar commanded again.
Angry and his draconic instincts taking over, Vaelor belches forth fiery destruction, shattering more ships in front of the large, yet fast dragon. Although a few leaped overboard to avoid incineration, others, however, were not so lucky as they were engulfed in the blazing inferno. Soldiers scream in agony as Aeonar and Vaelor swoop past as man and machine incinerate. Utilizing his speed and maneuverability to his advantage, Vaelor was able to avoid one scorpion bolt as more whizzed past him before turning around to decimate the Triarchy vessels until almost none were left. What remained of them, only three vessels began to sail away.
"W-Wait! Our ships! They are leaving us!" one of the Triarchy soldiers exclaimed in horror.
"They're… abandoning us?!" another panicked.
"Dracarys!" Laenor commanded.
Seasmoke unleashes fire once again, now reinforced by Vaelor. More panic began to spread, allowing Joffrey's main unit to break through enemy lines leading to the enemy's main encampment.
"We were just following orders! W-We surrender!" some Triarchy soldiers laid down their weapons. "Please, forgive our foolishness!"
Just then, Vaelor lands atop a cliffside and roars at the remaining Triarchy soldiers who are trapped before him.
"*ROOOOOOOOAAAAH!*"
"Fools," Aeonar sneered down at them. "There are only five options in war: fight, defend, flee, surrender or die." He leaped down from Vaelor's saddle and landed on the ground. "You have proven inept at the first two, and now you have the temerity to surrender? Hmph! After all you've done, death is all you deserve."
Realizing there would be no mercy, the Triarchy soldiers tried desperately to reach for their blades to fight to the death.
"Dracarys."
Vaelor draws a deep breath and begins spewing dragonfire at the Triarchy forces. They are instantly engulfed in flames and collapse into ash after a few seconds, leaving only craters left where they once stood. Reaching into his scabbards, Aeonar unsheathed two longswords and strolled into the supply depot as if he owned the place. There he could see the enemy commander, captain-general Gaerys Valtaris, awaiting him.
"Insolent brat!" Gaerys cursed. "I will not give in to the likes of you!" he rushed.
Drawing upon his training with the Lykirī Mēre, Aeonar's blades caught the edge of Gaerys's axe and parried, deflecting, and whirling around him. "You call yourself a general, yet your masters foolishly thought they had a right to claim the Stepstones and start a war by attacking our own in the shipping lanes. Indeed, your masters' ambitions have much to answer for," he replied coolly.
"Men! To me!"
Gaerys and three of his remaining guards surround Aeonar before attacking all at once, but Aeonar deflects all of their blows repeatedly while quickly spinning around, then repositions himself before killing one of Gaerys's men with a downward strike from both of his blades. The Triarchy captain-general and the two remaining men advance on the Targaryen prince. Aeonar deflects their blows again and slices the throat of another man, then runs another through with his blade.
"Curses! Grraahh! I refuse to be defeated by a mere boy!" Gaerys spat before engaging Aeonar in single combat. Clashing steel and each making circles around the other, the duel grew fierce before Aeonar traps Gaerys's axe and wrenches it from his hands. Aeonar then delivers a spinning hook kick which spins Gaerys around and to his knees and stabs him in the back. "Hngh!" he howled. "C-Curse you… Targaryen! The… Crabfeeder… will come for you…"
As his opponent lay in a pool of his own blood, Aeonar could not help but look down on his fallen nemesis. "This is all you have?" he said disappointed. Before walking away, he turned to see Laenor and Joffrey finishing off what remained of the Triarchy forces on Grey Gallows. The dragons, the strategy, working in unison… it appeared to have paid off. Craghas Drahar... have you yet to understand the Triarchy does not fight for the tangible?
"Victory is ours!" Laenor called. "The Grey Gallows belong to us now!"
"To our prince!" Joffrey exclaimed. "And our honored dead!"
"Whom will the Triarchy dare to send next?! Whom?!" an excited Stauton soldier cheered.
"There's nothing that can stop us now!" a Bar Emmon soldier echoed.
Aeonar observed the celebratory cries of victory from his troops. Sons of minor lords, hedge knights, mercenaries, those seeking to make a name for themselves in the pursuit of glory… many had heeded the call. Against all odds, against the Triarchy's hordes, even the Prince of Dragonstone felt such confidence that they could win this conflict.
Then a messenger approached. "Report!" he stated. "Lord Corlys has successfully taken Torturer's Deep, but Prince Daemon and Caraxes are said to be struggling against the Crabfeeder at Bloodstone! The Sea Snake is already en route, but he is requesting immediate reinforcements!"
Aeonar nodded. "Understood," he said. "Men!" he called out. "We've just received the call-to-arms from Lord Corlys Velaryon. Our allies appear to be having trouble at Bloodstone and will need our help to bait the crab. Who is up for another hunt!?"
"Aooooo!"
"*WROAAAAAAAAA!*" both Vaelor and Seasmoke roared.