Riverlands, Stone Hedge
Lothar Bracken,
Lord of the House Bracken
Stone Hedge and the surrounding area were filled with thousands of soldiers, bustling between buildings and tents. However, there was a gloomy atmosphere in the air, as the soldiers did not share the same optimistic thoughts as their leaders. Many harboured doubts about the impending war, their minds clouded by the weight of uncertainty and fear. Whispers of trepidation circulated, as men exchanged glances that spoke volumes of their apprehension.
To be honest, for him the whole undertaking was just one big gamble. He had been presented with a fait accompli the moment those damned Blackwoods had made an agreement with that sorcerer from Dorne, posing as a god.
There was no way that after gaining such a powerful ally, and if even a quarter of what was said about him was true, then he undoubtedly was, Roland and his damned slut wife would want to see him and his entire family dead. The stakes had never been higher, and the weight of what was coming hung heavy in the air. As he paced the dimly lit chamber, every shadow seemed to whisper of impending doom, urging him to act before it was too late.
There was too much bad blood between their families, feuds and crimes that could not be simply forgotten, some of them very recent.
No... all he could do now was to try to destroy the rebels together with the Stormlanders and lure the sorcerer into a trap and kill him. He didn't know how high the chances were, but what he could see was that an animal cornered, with no way to escape, was the most dangerous. And both he and the Storm Kingdom forces occupying the Riverlands were in such a situation.
"So we shouldn't expect reinforcements?" he finally asked, looking at the grey-haired man sitting at the table. The man's brown eyes had lost all their previous arrogance and pride, now filled only with desperation.
"No, the Stormlands are in total chaos. There are conflicting orders," replied Lord Corwyn Morrigen, the head of the Storm Kingdom's military forces in the Riverland. "The sorcerer killed the king, then took over Storm's End. Letters were sent out that the queen was regent, but most of the lords rebelled and began gathering forces to march on the capital. We can't count on any support."
Lothar sighed in resignation. "Storm's End has never fallen, and while these fools lay siege to it without success. That Dovahkiin, or whatever his name is, will destroy us in the meantime and then deal with them."
Corwyn looked at him, and after a moment, said, "Our only chance is your plan. If the trap doesn't work, we're doomed. I admit that coming to terms with the Valyrians was a brilliant idea, although I would have preferred if they had lent us their dragons."
He only nodded at these words, analysing the plan step by step, which seemed flawless every time. He tried to completely eliminate the human factor, but it was not possible to do so completely. However, something told him that he had not taken something into account. However, he tried to drown out this voice.
"The most important thing is that we reach Riverrun within half a moon; there the trap will close," he stated after a moment, "We have to leave tomorrow to have everything ready. Even if the siege takes place in two moons, organising everything will take time."
"Does Hoster know what you want to use his ancestral seat for?"
"No," he admitted with a wry smile. "But when he finds out, it will be too late. Once he sides with us, there will be no turning back. If he wants to survive, he'll have to agree."
"Let's hope it's enough to kill the warlock," Corwyn stated, taking a deep sip of ale.
Lothar shook his head at that. "Have more faith, my Stormlander friend. Anyone can be killed. Aren't ants tiny and fragile? So easy to stomp on? But when there are enough of them, they can eat you alive. Anyone can be killed. The only question is whether we're willing to pay the price."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dorne, Sunspear
Princess Nymeria Nymeros Martel
To say she was furious was like saying Dorne was warm. That would be a huge understatement. That arsehole Neferion pissed off half the world, and when representatives and even rulers of various important powers came to discuss the terms of granting travel through the Stepstones, he disappeared.
It was only from a letter brought by a raven that she learnt that he had killed Arrec Durrandon, captured Storm's End, and was planning to go to the Riverlands. When she read the message, she had to sit down. She was only 17 years old, and because of him, she had to worry so much that there was a chance she would go grey before her twentieth name day.
As soon as she got her hands on him, he would still be whining for mercy, and to hell with his powers. She didn't care. And to think that for a while she had even considered marrying him. Outrageous. She wouldn't be able to handle such a relationship mentally... And knowing his strength, she wouldn't be able to physically either.
These thoughts must have reddened her cheeks, because her uncle, who had been reviewing the development plan for the guests, glanced at her and smiled significantly.
"Nymeria, my dear niece. Are there any dirty thoughts wandering through your head? If you were thinking about your dragon hero, then half an hour ago, you wanted to whip him or bury him up to his neck in an anthill. I didn't know that such things turned you on."
Nymeria was speechless, honestly not knowing how to respond to something like that, because she was really imagining their half-naked silhouettes and herself holding a whip over Neferion at that moment.
She quickly shook her head in panic, trying to chase away these thoughts, to which Morgan, seeing her reasoning, burst out laughing.
Before she could react in any way, she heard roars. The last guests she had been expecting but also feared the most had arrived. Any conversations with the Valyrian dragonlords were not easy, and without Neferion present, she could not say that she was talking to them from a position of strength.
The only protection she had was that damned staff with a head ending in a scream, which the Dovahkiin had left her. He had assured her that he would even cope with a Valyrian dragon. When she asked what he was doing, he had only replied, "You'll see for yourself if it turns out to be necessary."
Oh, how that man irritated her sometimes. Returning to reality, she grabbed the staff standing by the wall, checked if she had all the rings on her fingers that were supposed to protect her, then, looking at her uncle, who nodded to her, grabbing an ebony spear herself, she left the chamber, heading to the throne room.
She was a princess of Dorne, a descendant of the Rhoynar; she intended to show that she was the one calling the shots here, even if only in Neferion's name. Her ancestors had previously struck down dragons with magic, and she had magic at her disposal at the moment.
The throne room, made of white marble, was probably the most magnificent room in the palace, showing the wealth and splendour of her family. Located under the dome, the circular chamber was decorated with numerous windows filled with coloured glass.
On the wall opposite the entrance were two identical thrones, one of them inlaid with a Martell spear on its back, and the other depicted the blazing Rhoynish sun rising from the masts of Nymeria's ships.
She, as the princess of Dorne, sat on the throne with the spear; the other was for the consort, and recently it was taken by Neferion, who liked the sun motif, both because of his spear and bow and as one of the aspects of his divine father, the sun god.
Actually, when she thought about it, Neferion's luminous spear Solarion was the perfect symbol for her lineage and what an artefact it was. But he would rather die than give it to anyone. Besides, he claimed that the weapon would incinerate anyone who took it in their hands.
After a moment, the gold-trimmed doors to the hall opened again, and in them were led by guards and Morgan, who had come out earlier to meet them. After all, they were too important guests to simply send just anyone to meet them. Before Neferion arrived, she would have had to go out to meet them herself and act extremely honoured by their presence.
She had to give it to that annoying man of hers that, thanks to him, she had more real power than any ruler in Westeros had ever had.
At that moment, however, she turned her gaze to the newcomers. There were two of them, but she knew immediately who one of them was. 6 years ago, when she was in Volantis with her father, he appeared at one of the banquets. Vaegon Nylaeris. Archon himself honoured them with his presence. Without a doubt, the most powerful man in Valyria. His House alone had almost 90 dragons.
She rose from the throne, deciding to show at least that much respect. They would face each other as equals. Sure, if Neferion were here, he would have just thrown his leg over the arm of the chair, showing his disdain. He didn't like Valyrians, after all. As an absolute opponent of slavery and human sacrifice, which she completely agreed with, they were definitely in his Death Note.
"Princess Nymeria. Since I saw you with your father in Volantis, you have truly grown into an extraordinary and beautiful woman." The first greeted her, a smile plastered on his face and no trace of the usual Valyrian arrogance. "I was greatly saddened to hear of his unfortunate passing."
"Lord Vaegon. It is equally good to see you. My father's death was indeed a great loss to us," she replied, nodding slightly. "But who is your companion? If you would be so kind as to introduce him?"
The second man bowed his head slightly and introduced himself, "Tyris Vael, princess. It is a pleasure to meet you."
Another one of the Council of Fourteen? Vael was also one of the 5 most powerful families, with dragons making up over 30 per cent of all of Valyria's dragons.
"I am equally pleased, Lord Tyris," she replied. "Your chambers have been prepared, and you must forgive me if they are not to your standards. Unfortunately, Sunspear is not Valyria."
Vaegon smiled politely before saying to her, "Of course. We had hoped to meet the famous Dovahkiin, Lord Neferion."
"Unfortunately, Lord Neferion left the capital some time ago, and I am not certain when he will return. So you will have to content yourself with holding talks with me." She replied, trying to sound more confident than she felt.
Both Valyrians visibly frowned. "We would prefer to talk to the one who really rules here. We did not come here to chat but to settle the subject of access to the Narrow Sea for our ships." Archon replied, his tone clearly indicating that he was at least irritated and felt offended.
However, hearing his words, she felt anger filling her. She was the ruler of Dorne. Not some figurehead. "Let us settle something once and for all, Lord Nylaeris... I rule Dorne, so either you settle for me or you can leave my city!"
Before the Valyrian archon could react to her words in any way, another voice, a more powerful one, came from the entrance to the hall, "Hey, lizard lords. What have you done to anger my princess so much? You better apologise right away, because it will only get worse. I know from my own experience.