Pre-Chapter A/N: Here we go with another chapter, coming a bit later than promised but here all the same. Next three chapters on my patreon(https://www.patreon.com/c/Oghenevwogaga)— same username as here and link in bio.
120 AC-- ICARUS JORDAYNE
Good news, Icarus was quickly beginning to find, tasted better than any wine. He read over the letter the messenger had brought once more and could not help but sigh out loud in relief. The headaches that had been a constant companion in all his days since the news of the Dayne and Fowler marriage, or the alliance between Blackmont, Sandstone, and Ghost Hill. They had only worsened when the reports began to reach him that those groups would be coming together in an alliance of their own. He had thought himself so smart, riding at the head of a great host to see his brother wedded to Yoren's sister.
A Yronwood King only made sense, but it seemed the rest of Dorne would come together to fight against good sense. He had gold aplenty, but the Great Lords of Dorne would rather watch their smallfolk starve, or even die in war, than be bribed into making the logical choice. And so war was inevitable. That was what had caused the latest set of headaches. Yoren was getting impatient. Icarus had put the thought of a crown in his head, and men did not often see crowns and turn them down.
He wanted it. He had gotten a taste of what it would be like, and had decided that he was well suited for it. And Icarus would rather die than leave his one and only friend alone to face the hordes, so he did what he could. The Lords of Dorne had little use for his gold, but his gold could go a long way outside of Dorne. There was not a single sellsword company of note that he had not contacted.
Most were willing to take his gold, but only a fraction of them were willing to do what was necessary to earn the gold. Still, thousands of men were thousands of men. Braavos would be closed out to him. His alliance with Laenor Velaryon would make sure of that, but that same alliance gave him an opportunity.
A request letter written with enough naked desperation that he knew a man like Laenor Velaryon could not refuse. The man got what he wanted through House Jordayne, but a dragon always wanted more, and that was what Laenor Velaryon was. A dragon of the same make as Aegon the Conqueror. The man who saw six kingdoms and did not think them enough.
So when he sent the letter and did not receive a response for a moon, he was perplexed. And then when the response came that he was thinking about it, Icarus had begun to fear. Laenor Velaryon had become a father as the whole world knew, and fatherhood changed men. If he became a man less inclined to war for the sake of the children he had at home, then Icarus' cause would be the first to suffer. He could win without the dragon Igneel on his side. He knew it. But if the dragon did not come, then the shape of his victory would change. It would be a slog. A long, bloody slog that would have Yoren putting down rebellions for the better part of his life, and his children would likely be forced to do the same.
But now the response he wanted had come. The dragon would come. Laenor Velaryon most likely thought the limitations he had placed on his support would be hard to swallow, but Icarus had expected them. No naval force beyond what would be used to bring the dragon and its rider here, no men on the ground, nothing other than the dragon. But the dragon was all he needed.
The dragon meant no sieges. The dragon meant that either their enemies would face them on the field and burn in the open, or they would fight like Dornish did. And if they did so, they would die like dogs. Because while they had plotted their resistance, Icarus himself had not been idle.
His friend would rule Dorne by the end of the next year, he swore. And not just in name, in truth as well. The only thing that worried him was that Laenor Velaryon had a single condition he refused to put to paper. Most likely additional trade or guarantees of supplies. The Stepstones were a ravenous beast and Laenor Velaryon was always expanding. He needed the dragon so much that, whatever additional payment was requested, he would pay it.
And so he rose now, leaving his solar and heading to where he knew he would find his brother. The shipyards. It was only after he had left the castle that he realised he had forgotten his wine flask. He could go back for it... No, that would be ridiculous. A seller in the city would have wine for their Lord.
--
"What could he want that is so sensitive that he is unwilling to put it in writing?" Oberon said on reading the message. They sat within his solar in the small watchtower that adjoined their shipyards. The tower as well as the yard itself had been purchased from the Velaryons, but it had paid for itself many times over.
"I care not. He can ask for whatever he wishes. That is not the important bit. What is important is that we can begin now. You will sail at the head of the fleet on the morrow. The sellsword companies promised to me will wait for you in Lys. Your job is to bring those men to me." he said.
"Here?" Oberon asked.
"No. I mean to meet you at Starfall. Bring them to me there." he said.
"The lynchpin of this alliance. If Dayne falls, they will treat with us" Oberon said appreciatively.
"No. If Dayne falls, they fall next. There will be no quarter in this war, brother. We mean to crown a new King, and a King does not rise by consensus. They have already shown themselves willing for war. Cutting one of the hydra's heads and then letting the others bury their heads in the sand would be a mistake. We give them no chance to bide their time and fight another day. A dragonlord rides with us. We end this war now. For us, and for our children" he said, meeting his brother's eyes to drive home the point.
Nymeria did not conquer Dorne by beating one house. She forced all of them—all their ancestors—to bend the knee at the end of the blade, and those who refused felt its kiss. Nymeria had the same advantage Aegon Targaryen did in Westeros. The advantage of foreignness. Martell only rose because Nymeria was by his side. Nymeros Martell, they became, because Martell alone could not rule Dorne.
The other Houses would never allow one of them to lord over them. And that would be what they would seek to do here. To go from peers to superiors. If they wanted it, they had to be bloody. More bloody than Aegon Targaryen. Less merciful than Nymeria and Mors Martell. They had to be ruthless. Show the only fruit of resistance to be death, win their fear so thoroughly that no house would lack for examples to look to when they asked themselves the question: why not rebel? And after it was over, after Icarus had won their fear with his war, Yoren would bring the hand of peace and love.
Two sides of the same coin. Yoren would come with the army. He would ride at its helm. But when the evil acts would need to be done, the King would step aside. Icarus would be the one to be feared so that Yoren, the one who he loved, would be loved. He looked at Oberon with sadness he could not show. His loyal brother. Even now he knew nothing as he prepared to leave to do his will. Ever loyal. History would not be kind to him. Would not be kind to them. The mark he would leave would be one House Jordayne would suffer for generations. But the fear and gold he would leave them would last even longer. And as far as he was concerned, even if Oberon would never agree, it would be worth it.
"As you say brother. I will leave on the morrow. I must first say goodbye to my wife"
"Thank you, brother. And please do give Ynessa my best. Tell her I don't bite as well" he said.
"She's not scared of you. She just says you remind her too much of Yoren to spend so much time around you. She misses home" he said.
"Don't we all?" he asked, before turning to leave. Because despite how much he changed and how much he made The Tor his, it would never feel like home. Home was the place he had laughed and learned to love. Home had been burnt by the same man he now invited into their Kingdom.
XXXX- LAENOR VELARYON, DRIFTMARK (SIXTH MOON, 120AC)
The halls of Castle Driftmark sang in the low tide and flooded themselves in the high tide, the stories said. Thankfully, we were in the former rather than the latter as I walked through the corridors that had once housed so many of my ancestors. This was the past of House Velaryon in physical form. In the rooms, I could see little markings where Velaryon Lords past, or more likely their servants, had marked their children's growth. In the cellars, I could see clothes that had not been worn in centuries.
A poorer House would take them apart and use them to what extent they could be used for clothes in the present day. Thankfully, for whatever else could be said about my stewardship of the House, I had somehow managed not to let things get to that point with our finances. I descended down into the castle, going deeper and deeper until I reached the lowest levels. These levels led off to a water inlet, I knew. There was a pool here that Mother said Father had used in his spare time when he wanted to think. And that was my goal for today.
Finding the pool was not hard. It was a small opening that allowed water to come in from the sea and fill up a room. It was not an intentional pool, I could tell easily enough. This had been something else before it had been lost to flooding. But then it had been so many decades since the water took it and refused to give it back that it had just become a pool instead. Fighting nature was not worth it at this scale.
I removed my clothes once I had a good look at the water. It looked clean. Clean enough, at least. And there was little chance that anything dangerous would make its way here. Of course, I still carried my Valyrian steel dagger on my waist. I never went anywhere without it. Not since the red witch. I swam around the pool a few times to make sure I was comfortable with it before I allowed myself the chance to drift.
The offer had come in a year ago, and I had stalled all I could since then. One did not just refuse a royal marriage for no good cause. And to be honest, I knew the offer was inevitable. It was what I would do if I was Viserys. I could not say I regretted putting the eggs in my children's cribs, but sometimes I caught myself thinking that a life where they did not all bond dragons at the same time would probably have been an easier one to lead. For one, I would not find myself in a position that made me the envy of every Lord of the realm. And I was serious when I said every. Even Borros could not quite hide his jealousy. He had sought a royal match for his daughters for years, and I just had three of them shoved straight at me. Aemond, Daeron, and Helaena for Alexandria, Diana, and Caesar.
Three good matches. A daughter of the royal house to be the next lady of Driftmark, and two of my daughters wedded to Princes. A second and third son yes, but Princes all the same. House Targaryen did not have a good history of doing much with their spares, but the life of a spare was also not a bad one. More gold than most Lords could ever spend, a seat on the Small Council if they wished for it and proved competent enough (sometimes even if they did not), and perhaps most importantly, a dragon.
Land and titles or no, the Princes of the realm were still some of the most powerful people in the realm. It was a good deal. But only for someone who did not know what would happen. And unfortunately, I was not such a person. I knew the war to come would tear House Targaryen to pieces, and yet it felt like the world was conspiring for me to be tied to the mast of this sinking ship.
And sink it would. Rhaenyra had birthed one son last year, and another just a moon ago. Her first, Baelon, had already claimed Vermithor at the ripe old age of too young to wipe his own bum. Jason was making moves as well. Rhaenyra was no politician, but she had done the wisest thing she could have by tying her fate to the Realm's smoothest operator.
Lannister ladies were the thread through which Jason intended to knit the realm into one unified whole behind his wife. Borros Baratheon was the greatest prize, the centerpiece of the effort, but he was not the only one. Riverlords, their cousins, younger brothers, and oftentimes heirs, were married off to a limitless collection of Lannister cousins. One would suspect there was some sort of factory printing out beautiful blond haired, green eyed women as he needed them with just how many marriages he secured.
Even parts of the Reach had been unable to resist his charm and appeal. On the other hand, Aemond rode Caraxes, Aegon now rode on Sunfyre's back, and both Helaena and Daeron would claim dragons of their own soon, I could tell. The Greens would be the ones with the advantage in numbers in terms of dragons, but the Blacks would have the advantage in size, assuming that, as I suspected, Silverwing would be claimed by Rhaenyra's second youngest, and a wild dragon like Sheepstealer or Grey Ghost by her third. Syrax was no slouch in the size department either, beating out Sunfyre, and while smaller than Dreamfyre, would beat the calm dragon when it came to aggression and ferocity.
The Blacks would then, on top of that, have the swords on the ground. Baratheon, Arryn, Lannister. A dangerous alliance. Stark had stood with the Blacks in canon and there was no reason for him not to do the same in this world. The Riverlands had been split in canon, but with both a Bracken and Blackwood married into House Lannister, I would not put it past Jason to have figured out some way of unifying the most divided of the realms.
Five Kingdoms.
That was why Otto did not see to it that I was offered Aegon's hand. Aegon's hand would have to be the prize that won over one of those Kingdoms to his side. But Aegon could only take one wife, and Four Kingdoms was still one hell of a challenge. The Crownlands would splinter. The Narrow-sea houses were so deep in Jason's pocket that I doubted they'd seen sunlight in ages. The Houses closer to the capital were in the opposite situation. Deep in Otto's.
The Reach would, in an ideal world, unify under the Green banner, but Jason was courting Tarly and Tyrell. One would bend eventually and then the Reach would not be quite so united. To be honest, the Green cause looked hopeless. Beyond my desire to have nothing to do with this war, I had an even more pressing and important desire not to be on the losing side, and that seemed to be what the world was pushing me towards.
I could not refuse the matches without essentially spitting on Viserys. The offers had been leaked far and wide. If I refused, I basically made sure that Viserys had to be seen humbling me or his authority as the King would be practically finished. If I accepted, I tied myself to this sinking ship. I came with the two largest dragons in the world, virtually unlimited gold, and the strongest navy in the world bar none, but even that could not defeat Five Kingdoms.
Not Kingdoms with dragons to protect them as well. How long would Vhagar last against both Vermithor and Silverwing? Not long, I knew. There was a world where we could manage it, perhaps, but never without dragons dancing in the air. I could not leave Vhagar out of it, but at the same time, Vhagar was my beautiful wife. The Bronze Queen did not go to war without her rider on her back, and I could not imagine my heart on dragon back in combat against another dragon, while scores of men attempted to use a scorpion to bring her down. No. I could not imagine it.
And if that was to be the case with Laena, then how much more so would the case be for my children. I did not want them to...
'Can you shut up for a bit, by...'
'What do you want, Aurion?' I asked. He had been too busy doing whatever it is he does with his time for the last few days so I had enjoyed the time with the sanctity of my thoughts alone.
'Anything other than to be forced to hear your endless whinging about how good you have it. Boohoo, a King wants you on his side. If the oaths are such a burden, break them when the time comes. If you would rather never go to war, then do not go to war. If you would not marry your children to the King's, then do not. If you would do so, then move and end the war before it begins. I tire of this endless thinking with no action. Act, Laenor Velaryon. Act.'
A/N: Just a teeny tiny time skip to keep things fresh and moving.. Discount on patreon(https://www.patreon.com/c/Oghenevwogaga) for those interested (should be expired by Saturday so do hurry up if you are). Next chapter comes on here by Monday Night at the latest.. Next three chapters up on patreon(https://www.patreon.com/c/Oghenevwogaga) (same username as here and link in bio), support me there and read them early.