Red Keep ― Maegor's Holdfast…
Alicent felt beads of sweat beginning to drip from her forehead as she continued her slow breathing exercises. "Oooohh…" she moaned. "Was… was this what mother had to endure? Oh, by the Mother…" she felt bile crawl up her throat before forcing herself to gulp. Before long, she began to toss and turn. "Oh please… make it stop. Make it— Ah!" Alicent's eyes suddenly widened, and she sprang up sharply. Lowering her eyes, she cautiously lifted the sheets to find a sticky wet substance between her legs, staining the gown and mattress. "GAAAAAAAAAAH!"
The room was deafened by the sudden sharp screech.
"My lord Hand," one of the septas quickly hurried around, "she's going into labor! It is time! The baby's coming!"
It did not take long before word spread and suddenly the entire castle was thrown into chaos. Alicent was moved to the birthing room, the one where Queen Aemma had birthed Prince Baelon not long ago. Midwives and maesters circled her like buzzards. Outside the room, septons and septas prayed loudly for a healthy birthing. Otto paced back and forth like a caged tiger, wringing his hands. Never before had Gwayne seen his father in such distress.
The door of the chamber suddenly burst open, and King Viserys entered with Princess Rhaenyra quickly behind him. The princess immediately rushed to the side of Alicent, taking her hand and holding it tight as she dabbed her sister-in-law's head with a cloth.
"I'm here Alicent, I am here," Rhaenyra soothingly reassured her.
Viserys looked fearfully at his daughter-in-law. "The baby, has it…?" he asked.
"NNNNNNNNGGGGGHHHH!"
Otto nodded his head "The midwife and Grand Maester assured me that the child had turned. Still, this is her first child…"
"AAHHH! UGGGHHHH!"
Images instantly came to Viserys's mind of Aemma, screaming, tears, and of bloodstained sheets. But he forced the images from his mind. Alicent was already throwing her head back as she let out another wail, gripping the bedsheets while Grand Maester Mellos was already at work between her spread legs. Rhaenyra gently dabbed a piece of wet cloth on Alicent's forehead and neck, wiping off beads of sweat; the pain was horrible. Alicent kept her eyes shut tight and felt pressure as the baby continually moved down with each push. She had been gradually getting more tired with each push.
"HNNNNNNGGG!"
"That's it, my lady," Mellos encouraged. "You're doing good. Just keep pushing!"
"Come on, Alicent! Fight it," Rhaenyra was more pressing. "Push! Get the baby out!"
"I-I'm trying!" Alicent wailed. "It hurts! It hurts!" she gripped Rhaenyra's hands.
"Give her something!"
"AAAAAARRRRGGHHHH!"
"We've already given her plenty of milk of the poppy without risking the baby," Mellos advised against the suggestion. "A woman's first time delivering a newborn always poses a challenge, but Lady Alicent is fighting with every fiber of her being."
Alicent gasped and slumped her head back on the pillow, panting heavily. Her brow was drenched with sweat, and her hair stuck to her face. Seven hells, she was in incredible pain. Inhaling through her nose and exhaling in small, steady sharp breaths yet groaning in such agony through her clenched teeth, Alicent felt the septas adjusting her posture into a reclining position.
"Ooooohh!"
"Keep breathing," one of the midwives said.
"Huff…! Huff…! Huff…! Huff…! Huff! Huff! Huff!"
"And push!"
Alicent held her breath, closed her eyes tight again, and pressed down, pushing as hard as she could. "GGGGGGGUUUUUUU!" she screamed with more contractions hitting her.
"And again!"
"HAAAAAAAAA!"
Mellos spread her vaginal lips a bit further apart as the Grand Maester noticed Alicent's cervix gradually opening on its own. "Ah! There is the head now," he called out. "Just keep pushing."
"Push!"
"Ngah! Owww! Gaaahh! Auuu!" The pain was growing steadily, but Alicent soon felt a stretching sensation as she continued to push, accompanied by a hard and slimy sensation beginning to slip out of her maidenhead. Her legs felt a sudden urge to clamp shut, but the army of midwives in the room prevented Alicent from closing them. For hours, she was confined to her bed. And Alicent was becoming exhausted. "HMMMMMM!" she moaned. Alicent felt as though she were about to pass out, her first baby was so close to coming she could feel her cervix stretching as the child moved slightly downwards, pain gripped her as the pressure became worse. "UUURRRRAAAGGHHHHH!"
"Come on, Alicent," Rhaenyra beckoned. "You're almost there. Just one more push! Do it for me! For the baby… for Aeonar."
Aeonar. Aeonar… Alicent's thoughts turned to her childhood sweetheart and the baby. She just could not give up now. Not when she is so close! For what felt like an eternity, Alicent felt her muscles tightening and pressed down on the contractions with all her might, screaming in agony. "GAAAAHHHH! MMMMNNNNAAAHHH!" Mellos withdrew his fingers and gently placed his hands around the neck, the tiny shoulders, the little body… gently pulling on the baby with every pressure Alicent applied to her body. "AAAGGGHHH!" With the last ounce of strength, Alicent gave one final push and felt something leaving her body.
"*Waaah! Waaah!*"
"Hot water and towels! Hot water and towels!" one of the midwives hollered.
"*Waaah! Waaah!*"
Grand Maester Mellos, once cleaning and handing the wailing newborn over to an exhausted yet relieved Alicent, turned to Viserys and Otto. "Your Grace. My lord Hand," he said. "The gods are smiling on us. It is a boy… Your first grandson. Strong lungs and kicking like a mule."
"*Waaah! Waaah!*"
"Congratulations, my dear sister," Gwayne brushed Alicent's hair, bringing a few strands away from her sweaty face. "You did good, Alicent. We're all very proud of you."
Both Otto and Viserys rushed forward, Rhaenyra was sitting on the bed with Alicent, gently cooing over the newborn baby. The boy was wrapped in a thick blanket, a tuft of pale silver hair on top of his head, with deep violet eyes blinking at the light and sights of the strange new world that he had entered. Viserys was nothing but smiles as he leaned forward, gently tickling the infant under the chin. Even Otto seemed at a loss for words, he merely stood proudly by his daughter's side, placing a hand gently on her shoulder.
"I hope none of you mind, but I took the opportunity to choose my nephew a dragon egg," Rhaenyra spoke as she motioned for a Dragonkeeper to come forward, carrying a brazier he opened it, resting on hot coals to keep it warm was a dragon egg, a swirl of blue and white scales.
"Congratulations, my lady," Mellos spoke softly. "You have a son."
"A… a son…" Alicent panted. She was weak, tired, and covered in sweat. In her arms, she cradled her newborn son. Oh, Aeonar... He looks so much like you. "*Sniffle!* My… my baby. *Sniffle!* My beautiful baby…" she began to cry with tears pouring down her cheeks. "Hello, my sweet little boy… Hi… I-I'm your mama…"
"Have you and Prince Aeonar chosen a name?"
Alicent could barely keep her eyes open. She was very tired from giving birth to her first child. "Ja… Jaehaerys…" she softly murmured. "Jaehaerys…" Her eyes slowly closed, but her chest kept rising and falling with gentle breaths.
Mellos examined her. "She's asleep," he determined. "We'll be keeping a close eye on Lady Alicent and the child, but I'm very optimistic." He glanced at the child. "Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen," he said the name given to the newborn. "The Old King would be proud."
Viserys took the babe into his arms. "A grandson. My grandson…" he could barely contain his happiness he was smiling so much. The newborn Jaehaerys reminded the king of his own son's birth eighteen years ago. "There now. There you are. It is me, your grandfather. Oh. A fine prince. Yes, you are. Sturdy. You will make a fearsome knight, won't you? Yes, you will," he spoke softly to not disturb the baby. Do you see him, Aemma? Our grandson is perfect in every way. He then looked at everyone assembled. "I want the word to go out across the realm. Let it be known that Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen, second-in-line to the Iron Throne behind his father, Aeonar Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone, has been born."
Rhaenyra remained by Alicent's bedside, watching her sleeping. Her gaze then turned to Jaehaerys. She watched as her nephew was placed in a nearby cradle next to Alicent. Rhaenyra gently brushed some hair out of Alicent's face before leaning over to place gentle kisses on her forehead, holding her close. I thought I was going to lose you like mother. I am so thankful the gods did not take you too, Alicent. You are my best friend. We love you so much.
"Aeonar… Please come home…"
Rhaenyra heard Alicent mumbling her brother's name in her sleep. It was obvious that although she had given birth to her first child, Alicent still felt lonely. Rhaenyra promised herself that she would look after Alicent and Jaehaerys; no matter what, she would not let anyone threaten her expanding family ever again. Not even her stepmother.
Red Keep ― Royal apartments…
Outside, there was a small contingent of servants tending to Beatrice's needs. As she rocked Aegon in her arms, the queen consort was still fuming internally. "I've just heard. A boy," she mentioned. "This setback will only prove problematic in our plans to assert control."
A hooded figure, leaning on a cane insent with a golden firefly, was seen leaning forward as his right foot was badly curved inward and downward. "A momentary setback, Your Grace," he calmly reassured her. "We have no love for the prince, but as long as he remains the king's heir, we cannot simply make our move. However, I believe I do have a solution to make the estrangement between them grow that he will be forced to set him aside."
"How?"
"Perhaps you require an ally? I have contacts in the city who can specialize in misinformation. We can therefore dispatch a formal request to the Starry Sept to seek a dissolution of marriage. All that's required is your approval, Your Grace."
"And how would that benefit me?"
"Malvales," he examined a nearby flower.
"What?" Beatrice asked.
"A rare bloom. Indigenous to Braavos. By all rights, it should not be thriving here. Nature... such a mysterious force of nature." He turned back to the queen. "By the slight towards the king, I do feel there was a sense of injustice. Begging your pardon, Your Grace, I do hope that we can right such wrongs."
Beatrice felt incensed that this lowly man was speaking in riddles to her. But if he had valuable methods to further estrange the king from his firstborn son, then it could potentially lead to her own son's place in the line of succession being extended. "Just get it done," she dismissed. "I'll keep an eye out for them."
"I await your command, Your Grace."
― The Stepstones―
Stepstones ― Bloodstone…
Flames roared on Bloodstone, the final stronghold under Triarchy occupation. As nearby wrecked ships were ablaze, several Triarchy soldiers began gathering as many supplies as possible before carrying them to the caves in preparation for a wide-scale confrontation.
"Report!" a messenger arrived. "Grey Gallows and Tortuerer's Deep have fallen to the enemy! Captain-general Gaerys Valtaris has been slain, and―"
"I know," Craghas dismissed. "No matter. The seahorse and dragon lord seem impulsive in the need to seize the Stepstones. But little do they know we have them right where we want them." He turned to his men. "Gather your spoils and bring them back to the caves before the enemy arrives. Their dragons won't be able to reach us."
"Come on, men!" a Lysene scout hurried. "You heard the prince-admiral! Put your backs into it!"
"Hey! Someone give me a hand with this!" a Myrish officer grunted.
"This is heavier than it looks."
"We'll be making a fortune with this loot!"
"Keep your focus, lad!"
A Tyroshi scout carried a torch in his hands. "Empty those chests," he ordered. "And bring them back to the caves before the prince-admiral decides to feed us to the crabs."
Craghas observed his men gathering the loot before turning his sights toward a crucified Velaryon soldier.
"House Velaryon will come for you!" the soldier warned. "The Sea Snake will have your poxy fucking head!"
Insolent whelp. I do not believe you understand the situation you are in. Amusing himself, Craghas pulled out his hammer, giving the instrument a twirl before gripping one of the stakes in his free hand.
"No, no, no. No, please!"
Regardless of his captive's pleas, the Crabfeeder began nailing another victim to the cross before leaving him for his fate. The Velaryon soldier screamed in agony as the nail pierced through his hand and penetrated through the other side.
"Fuck you, Prince Drahar! Fuck your whore mother and bastard father!" the captive Velaryon soldier cursed bitterly. He painfully groaned as he watched Craghas toss several crabs on his body. "Fuck! No, no! No!" No matter how hard he struggled, the soldier could not shake them off. Held captive and sentenced to die by being devoured alive, he would be condemned to suffer the same fate as another of the Crabfeeder's victims.
As Craghar began to leave, he heard the faint distinctive rumbling sound which steadily grew louder. So, he is finally here. The impulsive one.
"Dragon!" a Triarchy soldier called out.
Descending from above, Caraxes unleashed dragonfire to incinerate all in the Blood Wyrm's path. With the arrival of Prince Daemon Targaryen, Triarchy forces scattered and immediately made a hasty retreat to the caves for safety.
"Hail Prince Daemon!" the captive Velaryon soldier laughed. "Burn the fucking Triarchy cunts alive!"
Caraxes growled and again took flight before strafing the enemy forces along the beach with another wave of dragonfire. More Triarchy soldiers began sprinting to the island's caverns whilst trying to escape the fierce dragon's wrath. If they can make it inside, the dragon cannot catch them.
"Here, my prince! Save me!"
Before he could continue calling out to Daemon, Caraxes landed directly on top of the Velaryon soldier, crushing him beneath his foot. Screeching menacingly, the Blood Wyrm swept aside the wreckage with his slender, serpentine-like tail and breathed more fire on the enemy.
"To the caves! Now!" Triarchy soldiers hurried. "Retreat to the caves!" Finally approaching their destination, the soldiers flee inside where Caraxes cannot pursue. The last two made it inside, lowering their heads to avoid the dragon's flames before proceeding deeper into the caves.
Daemon, mounted atop Caraxes, surveyed the landscape in search of Craghas Drahar. "Where are you?" he yelled. "Come out and face me, Drahar!"
The Crabfeeder, taking refuge inside one of Bloodstone's caves, simply observed from a distance. Just as the Dornishmen bested the Conqueror and his dragons, the Triarchy shall do the same to these insolent whelps. Daemon Targaryen, you were foolish enough to come out here alone. Now suffer for your folly. Satisfied with the use of guerilla tactics, he turned around to disappear into the caves.
"Come out, Drahar!" Daemon called out again. "Where are you!? I am gonna feed you to your own crabs! Where are you!?"
High atop the cliffs overlooking the beach, Triarchy archers nocked flame-tipped arrows before pulling back on their bowstrings and unleashing a volley of arrows at Caraxes, aiming for Daemon. The Rogue Prince raised one arm, compelling Caraxes to raise its left wing to protect his rider. The arrows bounced off the Blood Wyrm's thick wing-like membrane, but more barrages came down from every direction.
"*Reeeeeee!*"
Caraxes quickly looked left and right, confused as to which direction he needed to defend against the enemy. Taking advantage of the chaos, one of the Triarchy's archers managed to land a direct hit – landing a flaming arrow at Daemon's right shoulder.
"Ngh!" Daemon hissed, pulling the arrow from his shoulder.
"*RAaaarrh!*" Caraxes screeched frustratingly. Despite the distinct advantage a powerful dragon gives in battle, his effectiveness was suppressed and only managed to cause minimal casualties before forcing him to retreat. Beating its wings, the Blood Wyrm took to the skies in a hasty retreat.
Nearby, at the highest peaks, Aeonar and Laenor lay low – observing the scene.
"He launches a night raid on father's ships, and retreats deep into the caves whenever we retaliate with our dragons," Laenor said silently. "By using the island to his advantage, the Crabfeeder has turned our assets into a liability. Such clever tactics."
"Indeed," Aeonar agreed. "He's using the same strategies the Dornish used against my ancestors during the Conquest. The Crabfeeder intends to prolong the war and inflict as much damage as possible through attrition. However, just as he's doing to us, we may be able to turn Drahar's advantage against him."
"What do you propose?"
"Do you still have the map with you?"
Laenor reached into his sack and pulled out a detailed map of Bloodstone. "Here," he offered. Both surveyed the area, narrowing down the caves and potential routes. "There are about eight caves spanning across several yards of each other, but we cannot pinpoint how many tunnel networks connect one another. Our scouts estimate the Triarchy forces stationed on Bloodstone somewhere between 2,000 to 4,000, including those archers we saw earlier."
"Then I suppose it's time for us to employ some reconnaissance," Aeonar turned and waved over some of his allies.
Laenor turned to see thirty to forty Lykirī Mēre assassins stealthily climbing up to the cliffs beside them. The heir to Driftmark was surprised that he did not even hear them coming. Each of their upper bodies wore plain white robes featuring a hood that was shaped like an eagle's beak in the center which was connected to the main part of the robes. The lower portion was layered, with the back of the robes extending down lower than the front. Around the waist was a fossil-colored sash, with pouches containing supplies and a sheath connected to a belt. "My prince, to engage a force of that size with only 40 men is suicide," he warned.
"Such is my plan, for the shadows are our friends." Aeonar pointed towards the map. "The Lykirī Mēre have been observing the enemy's movement and withdrawal patterns. If Daemon and Caraxes can keep hitting the Crabfeeder's men again and again, we may be able to isolate them from their allies. What's more, we have something in store for them."
Laenor noticed at the bottom of the cliffs, more row boats arriving on the beach behind the island itself. The cold breeze carried about them the scent of something pungent. "Oh, I see now," he realized. "So, you intend to locate these tunnels and cause a collapse so they can't take refuge." Laenor then observed the map again. "But to do that, the pitch will need to be placed at these key locations your people will mark. And once inside…?"
"My assassins will blend within the cave's darkness and pick off those taken refuge one by one. The confusion should result in the Triarchy troops becoming increasingly paranoid to the point where they will eventually have to come out. But if they do, Caraxes and Seasmoke will be in front. So, they will need to go the other way. The Lykirī Mēre will then follow them, mark the tunnels before leaving a trail of pitch leading to the exits, and set enough caches to cause a big enough explosion. Once they back out the opposite way…"
"Vaelor will be waiting for them," Laenor deduced.
Aeonar nodded. "With dragonfire, the first cave-in will separate the Triarchy forces from their comrades if not collapsing completely on top of them. We do that over and over, then only one should remain. I suspect that is where the Crabfeeder will be hiding," he theorized.
"It won't be easy. There are too many risks in this strategy. If we keep sending our ships, we will lose more men and the Crabfeeder might know what we are planning. A lot of our men are going to be killed trying to pull this off."
"This doesn't sit well with me either, Ser Laenor, but it is a necessary evil. And the Lykirī Mēre are always at their best under the cover of dark." Aeonar then prepared himself for the upcoming reconnaissance mission. "All right, go report to your father. Tell him to get his ships ready for the next wave. And Daemon… well, just tell my uncle to keep doing what he does best. I'll take care of the rest."
Laenor nodded. "Sȳzbiarves, Dārilaros Aeonar. (Good luck, Prince Aeonar.)"
"Ao hae sȳrī, Azantys Laenor. (You as well, Ser Laenor.)"
Aeonar watches Laenor cautiously climb down to one of the rowboats without trying to give himself away. Once he was now out of sight, the prince then signaled the Lykirī Mēre assassins to begin the move. Pulling up his hood, his robe was black and he donned a leather tunic with a shirt of black scales, a piece of breastplate armor underneath in the center of his chest engraved with a three-headed dragon with emerald rubies, a set of draconic pauldrons on his shoulders, graves on his shins, and draconic gauntlets on his hands — each finger had a carbon steel blade, razor sharpened, attached to the tips. Pulling up a face mask, he stretched the fabric over his mouth and up to the bridge of his nose.
Creeping towards the edge, the group unveiled their Yi Tish longbows and reached for their arrows from their respective quivers. Below them were Triarchy sentries patrolling the cliffs. A precise strike from above would eliminate those on the ground from knowing they were soon about to get a surprise wake-up call. Nocking the arrow, they drew their bowstrings back as far as they could and aimed down sight.
Quick feet, fast hands, keen eyesight, deadly precision.
One by one, Aeonar and the Lykirī Mēre released their grip on the bowstring and watched as the arrows pierced the Triarchy sentries from above. Before they could fall forward, they quickly yet silently leaped from the top to land on the cliff overlooking the beach and grabbed their collars before pulling back.
Quick feet, fast hands, keen eyesight, deadly precision.
Aeonar turned to his left and motioned for twenty assassins to enter the caves near them; the prince then redirected his attention toward the ones on his right and signaled the rest to do the same. Glancing down at the ground, Aeonar gripped the edge of the cliff and quietly made his descent. Leaping from rock to rock, the prince's grip kept him from slipping and both the leather and cotton padding on his feet helped muffle the sound of his footsteps if he needed to be quiet. Controlling the pace of his heartbeat, the prince breathed silently as he entered the first cave.
How fortunate the first tunnel offered little illumination from the torch. Sticking to the shadows, Aeonar crept close to notice a group of ten Triarchy soldiers laughing and chugging their wineskins.
"Did you see that? That dragon could not even get to us!" one laughed.
"Prince Drahar will reward us handsomely for this victory!" another chimed in.
"Oh, how low the Targaryen dynasty has fallen!" a third mocked.
Mock us all you want, Triarchy gnats. It is not wise to enter the dragon's lair unless you are looking for trouble. Aeonar's pale lilac eyes seemed to glow in the torch's fire, analyzing the entrance before seeing one of his acolytes carrying a cache of the pitch. He needed to dispatch the ones inside if he were to secure an ideal spot. Slowly reaching down to pick up a rock, it was light enough to hold but still heavy enough to bash someone's skull in. However, Aeonar instead threw it in the opposite direction. The resulting clacking sound startled the Triarchy soldiers and caused them to stand up.
"What was that noise?!"
"Is that one of us?"
"I don't know! Someone go check it out!"
One, two, three, four, five… Aeonar could see seven of them leaving. Only three remained. Once most were out of sight, the prince crouched and made his approach while the rest had their backs turned toward him. Sliding both his ring fingers into a spring-looped mechanism built into his gauntlets, Aeonar increased his pace and flicked his wrist, causing two small hidden blades to spring out and pierce the back of the first two's necks before they collapsed to the ground.
Quick feet, fast hands, keen eyesight, deadly precision.
"Wha—?"
Before the third soldier could turn around to realize what was going on, Aeonar quickly swept his right hand forward to slit his throat. The lone Triarchy scout gargled and clawed at his neck before slowly bleeding to death. Once the immediate danger had passed, the acolyte then made her approach and dropped the cache, but not before putting out the torches to engulf the tunnel in complete darkness.
"Shukran lak ealaa i voítheia, Al'amir 'Ayunar. (Thanks for the assistance, Prince Aeonar.)" She whispered in Old Ghiscari. "Emméno alzilal. (Stick to the shadows.)"
"Emméno alzilal. (Stick to the shadows.)" Aeonar whispered in turn.
Surveying each tunnel of the first cave, all whilst trying to avoid detection, Aeonar and the acolytes he met up with stirred up a panic amongst the Triarchy. Wherever they ran, it was dark; and someone ended up dead. And whichever direction they took, they wasted time; and more would get picked off. Stepping into something sticky, the Triarchy soldiers soon began sniffing the air and looked down at their feet. Realizing what they were standing on, they scrambled towards the nearest escape route behind the caves near the outer beaches.
However, they were soon greeted by Vaelor — who had been waiting patiently for his prey to come running to him.
"Another dragon!" a Triarchy shouted in terror.
Before they could react, Vaelor's jaws opened and blasts them in a ball of fire. As they screamed, the conflagration soon ignited the pitch and lit a trail deep into the caves. Within fifteen minutes, there was a loud explosion that rocked the nearby area. Aeonar and the first group quickly evacuated the area before the cave-in sealed them inside. Looking back, they swiftly made their retreat before more Triarchy forces could investigate.
Quick feet, fast hands, keen eyesight, deadly precision. Aeonar observed the area. His lips curled into a small smirk at the devastation. If we can hit them repeatedly, we can force a showdown within a few days. Of course, the Crabfeeder will not make it easy. After what happened, I imagine patrol routes will increase and patterns will change. So, we will just have to improvise. We will sustain heavy losses. But we will get the job done. One way or another, we will get it done. His pale lilac eyes stared into the flames before him. "Prepare yourself, Craghas Drahar."