Chapter 45
SER BRYNDEN RIVERS—Bloodraven
This was his fault. His and his alone. Brynden rued the day he had chosen to spare Aegor's life, and now the entire realm was paying the price for this. Their rivalry ran deep, for the blood of House Bracke and House Blackwood ran through their veins.
If destiny were real, then the two of them were destined to be enemies. Yet he had spared him, for the sake of his love of Shiera. Yet now, Aegor was back, and the Targaryen family was fighting for their lives.
Aegor had struck first when he had captured Princess Kiera and Shiera while they were coming back to the capital from New Haven. The man had spent decades plotting his return, and Brynden would shamefully admit that for the first time in his life, he had been completely outplayed.
The man had used Shiera's abilities to blind him, robbing their side of one of their greatest advantages. With his 'eyes' gone, the Crown was essentially blind. Brynden did have a formal network of spies and workers to keep him informed, but they were neither as effective nor as efficient as his other skill, and Aegor knew that.
He was also the only other person who understood the danger posed by Matarys, and with that, everything began to make sense. Brynden had always thought that the whispers and the murmurs surrounding Matarys were a bit unnatural.
The King's youngest son was not the Matchless Prince, the realm had believed him to be, but there was no reason to question his goodness. Matarys was a dutiful son, yet for some reason, many lords had a bias against him.
He had attributed this to their fears, but now he realized that this was all the work of an invisible hand. The curse had done the final trick, and the Crown could no longer depend on one of its most effective warriors and generals.
The King and Prince Valarr had sent him away so that he could save his son. After the initial strike, him and Prince Valarr had both led the offensive as Prince Valarr held back the armies of Lyonel Baratheon near the Wendwater, while he was tasked with bringing down the head of the Snake.
The rebels had crowned Daemon the Younger as their King in Whitehall, and so he had led his men to the Riverlands to bring him to heel. It took him four moons to reach Whitehall, while his armies burnt all of the rebel castles and hosts they met along the way.
Daemon the Younger did have his father's name, but the boy was no Daemon Blackfyre. He was no dragon. They met in the fields outside of Whitehall, and Brynden was able to slay the pretender King with his own blade, believing that this was the end of the war.
But he was wrong, for Aegor had used the boy as a sacrificial pawn. The bastard had hidden away the real claimant in Essos, and just as he was beginning to feel some sort of relief, Brynden learned about the attack on Dragonstone.
In his exile, Aegor had started a sellsword company. One that had risen through the ranks rather quickly to become one of the largest companies in Essos. He had called them the Golden Company, and yet the company had yet to make an appearance in the war.
Only now did he realize why. By tradition, Dragonstone was the dominion of Prince Valarr, yet because of the war, the King had relocated his younger brother, Prince Rhaegel, to the ancient castle.
Prince Rhaegel was a kind but innocent man. He was not built for war or duty, and so sending him to Dragonstone was meant to keep him and his family safe. But tragedy had struck, and now the Prince was dead along with his sons, as Haegon Blackfyre ruled over the ancient Targaryen seat.
With this attack, the capital was effectively under siege. Brynden knew that he had to return, that he had to rush back to the Crown's lands with his armies to support both Kingslanding and Prince Valarr at the Wendwater, but he found himself halted by the presence of a second host at Bitterbridge.
Aegor had finally entered the war to deal a crushing blow to them.
Ever since his first attack, Aegor had been holed up in Storm's End with his two hostages. This had bothered him much, for the man should have been in Riverlands fighting for his King, yet for some odd reason, he had refused to leave the safety of Storm's End even when Brynden slaughtered his King and his armies.
"Eight thousand?" he asked with some worry, and the scout nodded, and Brynden's fists balled up.
"They have made camp on the other side of the River," and the Mander was one of the longest and broadest rivers in all of the land, so crossing it without using the bridge was impossible.
But Aegor and his armies had reached the place first and had established a foothold there, making it impossible for them to move ahead towards the capital.
Brynden had more men, but they were tired. He had fought through two hosts to reach Whitehall, and the battle there had been brutal. His men had been riding hard for days now, while Aegor's host was well fed, well rested, and well positioned.
He looked down at the map, thinking of a possible solution, yet none came to mind as the realization dawned on him that this war might just be over.
"What are your orders, ser?" questioned his captains, and the truth was that he had none to give.
If they were to turn back now, they simply would be too late to support the Prince or the capital. But pushing through Aegor's camp was also impossible, and so he found himself forced into an impossible choice.
He was simply helpless, and before he could say anything, the tent flaps were pushed back once more as a servant walked in.
"There is a man here for you, my lord," and Brynden frowned.
"Who?" he asked, annoyed at the intervention.
"He is from the enemy side," and the entire room became silent at that, as Brynden raised a brow.
"He has come with the offer to parley...."
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In the end, it took half a day to set up the parlay. They met under the light of torches, as each of them rode with a contingent of four men. The two of them met on horseback, and even in the light of the torch, he could see the scar he had given him.
"It has been some time, old friend," Aegor teased with a smile, and Brynden ground his teeth as he answered.
"We are not friends," and they never would be.
"Such anger," the man clicked his tongue, as Brynden's brows came together because of his rage.
"But I can understand your reasons. It is not every day you lose a war," and he shook his head.
"We have not lost yet," he countered.
"Haven't you?" he teased, and one of the men stepped forward with a missive.
"Lyonel's armies are marching through the Wendwater as we speak. He outnumbers your Prince three to one, and once the young Prince falls, this war will be all but over," and that would be true.
"The Prine will not fall so easily," he countered, but Aegor knew that he was bluffing.
"Do not lie to yourself. You and I both know that Prince Valarr is not his father. Once he makes it past the Wendwater, Lyonel Baratheon will tear through his host in a few hours," and yet the war would still not be over.
"Maybe, but it is not Prince Valarr who sits on the throne," and Aegor rolled his eyes.
"I know of Breakspear and his illness. With the fall of Prince Valarr, I will have the capital surrounded on all sides. Baelor Targaryen will have no choice but to surrender," and he raised a brow at that.
"You will have to defeat me first," and now Aegor smiled.
"I have already done that," and a gust of wind passed through the air in that moment, as Brynden bit his lip.
"The Blackfyre rebellion. The world believes that the war was between the Red and the Black Dragons, but you and I know the truth. The war was not between the Red and the Black dragons. No," and Aegor's eyes grew wide with excitement.
"The war was ours. It was between you and me," and many believed that it was ambition that drove Daemon to rise in rebellion, but the truth was different. If it truly were ambition alone, then the man would have risen in rebellion years ago.
The real instigator of the war was the man standing in front of him. If it were not for his whispers , the rebellion could have been avoided in its entirety.
"You may have been able to best me then, but no more. Today, you lose Brynden. You lose," Aegor declared, but he shook his head.
"Never," he retorted heatedly.
"Even if you somehow take the Iron Throne, the war will not be over. Not as long as Prince Matarys lives," and he was his last hope now, for though he had tried to put up airs, the truth was that Aegor's words were true.
They were indeed at a disadvantage, but there was still hope.
"Matarys Targaryen," Aegor drew in a deep breath.
"He could have been trouble. Real trouble, but the truth is that you are responsible for his tragedy as well," and the words took him by surprise.
"You don't realize it," Aegor began as he looked him in the eye.
"Why would I ever have an interest in a young Prince like that? Why would I go so far as to tear him down?" and suddenly it all fell into place.
"Because of me," he whispered, and Aegor nodded.
"You were rather generous with your favor, and so I found myself wondering why the most heartless man I have ever known would be interested in a second son of all people, but the more I learned about him, the more I understood," and Aegor began nodding his head.
"I had quite fun tearing down your savior," and Brynden ground his teeth as he roared in rage.
"Why have you called me here?" he asked, and Aegor's smile vanished as the man's expression turned dull.
"To offer you the same mercy you showed me at Redgrass Field some twenty years ago," and so the offer was simple.
"Surrender to me now, and I shall allow you to keep your miserable life in exile," and he scoffed.
"I will never lower my head to the likes of you," Brynden countered, and Aegor shrugged.
"I expected as much, but I had to do this if not for myself then for the sake of Shier...."
"DON'T YOU DARE TAKE HER NAME FROM YOUR FILTHY MOUTH!" Brynden cut in with a roar, and Aegor smirked as he turned away from him.
"You have until dawn to take my offer. After that, I shall have no mercy to offer you at all..." and just as the two of them reached the edge of the bridge over the Meander, a growl shook the ground, and Brynden felt his heart still for a second.
"What was that?" the men asked in worry, as their torches began to flicker and their horses began to turn unruly. They began to look around before another roar cut through the skies as Brynden slowly looked up at the skies as a massive shadow passed over them.
"It can't be...."
"Impossible....."
"Is that...."
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