(???, ???)
The seed was strong.
That was the first thought to appear in his head once he got a good look at his nephew.
With raven black hair and stormy blue eyes that seemed to capture the light around him. There was no denying that they shared common blood.
"What about my brother? Why has he sent his own flesh and blood to me?" His booming voice echoed through the Round Hall.
Ariglac cut an imposing figure as he stood atop the dais, holding onto his nephew gently, much to the surprise of the court. Gentless that he had only ever shown his daughter.
The mysterious man who had appeared in his halls did not immediately respond. Choosing to stare at the sovereign in front of him with indifference. His gaze remained on the baby, as if he feared the King would drop him at any moment.
Many among them looked furiously at this man who dared to ignore his status.
Finally, as if satisfied. "The honorable prince and his consort have willingly given their lives to ensure the safe passage of the young lord. I know nothing of their intent." There it was again, that understone of pride and arrogance that he'd rarely seen anyone show him.
Even those flowery puffs westwards tread carefully when around him. Yet, this man remained whimsical.
While Argilac found himself impressed by the man's audacity, a larger part of him was more concerned with the revelation he'd brought. "Their lives?"
"Indeed, the slavemasters of the East had taken a liking to the prince and his consort. It was only with the blessing of the divine that I managed to rescue this little one from their greedy clutches!" This time, his voice was more animated, disgust and fury spewing in equal measure as he spoke of the eastern merchant princes.
For what difference was there between a merchant prince and a slavemaster when it came to the eastern continent?
His eyes darkened upon hearing the fate that had befallen his only brother. Ariglac had sworn to protect his only brother with his life. Yet, it appeared he had failed him once more.
"Who?" It wasn't a question; it was a demand. One that would decide the lives of whole Kingdoms.
Carefully scrutinizing the King, the mysterious man simply responded with one word. "Volantis."
"I see."
"..."
His steward looked ready to interrupt the duo, fearing the King would do something rash. "Your grace, surely…"
"Silence." The Storm King cared not for restraint at this moment.
The rest of the court didn't dare support the aged steward, fearing their liege's wrath and what would happen to them should they naysay him.
Durrandon blood had been shed. Royal blood. Storm's blood…
He didn't care if the freehold itself rose from the seven hells. No, for the man known as the Arrogant, only blood could pay for blood.
Volantis would soon learn that its former masters weren't the only ones it should fear. For he was a far more real danger, more so when compared to those craven sister-fuckers hiding in their measly isle.
"Who is the mother?"
That was something that lingered at the back of his mind. Surely his brother couldn't have fallen for a mere commoner?
They were wed, if the letter his brother had left was of any indication, but there was no mention of this goodsister, and he had no doubt that this insufferable mystery man knew her identity.
It was only his brother's letter that removed all doubt that this young child was a Durrandon. That is, if one ignored the stormy blue eyes and raven hair the child shared with his brother.
Though he appeared to be far too soft-looking. Nothing, some training in the yard couldn't change.
"As far as I'm aware, she was of green stock. You could even say that her dewy green eyes were reminiscent of a certain green hand."
Argilac stared dryly at the yet-to-be-named man, "Cut the flowery bullshit and speak clearly."
Audibly sighing, the mystery man looked at him with open disappointment. As if he were a wee lad who had been caught stealing from the castle kitchens once again.
"Funny you should mention that, your grace. The madam just happens to be a Princess of the Green Realm…"
"..."
Before the Storm King could even react to that ridiculous statement, his courtiers finally managed to find the balls to actually react to what was occurring.
"Presposterous…"
"What in the seven hells!"
"The Gardeners aren't going to like this."
"I certainly didn't see that coming."
"..."
"ENOUGH!" His roar shut down whatever nonsense came spouting out of their lips, as he glared at the mystery man.
One whose eccentricities were wearing thin on his patience. "You're telling me that my brother had somehow managed to wed the only daughter of that bastard Mern? The same daughter he fucking locked in a tower of all things…
Instead of responding verbally, the mystery man merely handed over another letter. The seal on it differed drastically from that of his brother's letter.
Handing over the young baby to his curious daughter next to him. Argilac took the letter without hesitation.
For a few moments, silence once again filled the Round Hall, with the court watching their King with bated breath. Waiting to see whether the mystery man was pulling a mummers' farce, or whether he spoke the truth.
Argella awkwardly held onto her little cousin, the maids close by rushing to aid the young princess who stubbornly insisted on holding on to her littlest relative.
Ariglac paid no attention to this, choosing to read the letter that was only meant for the eyes of that bastard Mern. A letter that spoke of anger, regret, love, and hope.
All in all, it appeared to come from a young woman who hoped to reconcile with her estranged father. Truthfully, he had no idea if this was the writing of the real princess, but if true, then it had ramifications for the relationship between their two Kingdoms for decades to come.
One that the other kingdoms would not take kindly to.
Ariglac was not blind to the future instability that awaited his Kingdom, one that could conveniently be solved by the sudden appearance of his nephew.
His daughter needed a reliable man by her side. In his eyes, who better than the person with the strongest claim to the throne beside her? One who potentially came with the backing of another Kingdom.
He knew not whether his brother was a masterful schemer or just plain lucky, but he certainly saw the benefit of such a union. This was something that needed more thought to be put into.
Without looking up, "Send for the Maester, it appears that I and that flowery bastard have much to discuss…" Pausing to glance at the mystery man. "As for you…"
…
(???, ???)
"What is this nonsense? What could have possibly convinced Eleanor of all people to elope with a Storm Prince of all people?"
"I don't know why you're so shocked. She had been giving that man doe eyes ever since she first laid eyes on him."
"Does it matter how they got together? We should be getting our nephew back. Those barbarian Stormlanders are simply unfit to care for him!"
"Yes, might as well call Old Argilac a twig to his face, since you're so interested in starting a war."
"Why you little…"
"Enough." One word was all he needed to silence his squabbling children.
House Gardener had only one voice, his. Its members knew better than to deny his orders.
If one had told Mern, the 9th of his name, that he would receive a raven from Arrogant Argilac talking about an alliance. He would have assumed that the speaker was a jester sent to entertain him.
Unfortunately, or fortunately, it appeared to be the truth.
The Reach had rarely enjoyed friendly relations with its barbaric neighbors to the east. Only ever enjoying such situations when the Dornish got far too uppity for their breeches.
Now presented with an opportunity to actually make a semi-permanent peace with his martially inclined neighbors, Mern would not deny the fact that he was interested.
Those stormlanders were just too dangerous to leave to their own devices.
He'd managed to make peace with Loren of the West, and making another with Argilac greatly appealed to him. Ensuring his name would be remembered for future generations as the Peacemaker.
A Wise King. A Good King.
Mern the Peacemaker had a certain flair to it.
"Father, what of Eleanor? If the Storm King speaks true, then Volantis has spat on House Gardeners' dignity! They have gone too far. We must bring them to heel!"
Gazing bemusedly at his heir, Mern easily saw through his eldest's thoughts.
Edmund had always been the closest to sweet Eleanor. The two had been inseparable when they were younger, so seeing him prattle on about their House's prestige, when in truth all he cared about was avenging his sister's death, was amusing to say the least.
Still, the lad had a point.
How dare those inbred slavers think they could get away with spilling royal blood?
He might not have been the closest to his daughter, but she was still his only daughter, deserving far better than being slain like common rabble.
One person didn't seem to agree.
"Are we sure this Durrandon is of our blood? Mayhaps it's a mummer's farce set by Argilac to lay claim to our lands?" Gawen pointed out, ever wary of any potential schemes at play.
"Nonsense, I can easily recognize Eleanor's writing. For the Seven's sake, I taught her her letters!" Edmund argued, clearly displeased at the notion. As he always was when it came to his only sister.
Refusing to stand down, "I understand your feelings, brother, but we should at least get a good look at the boy before we settle anything. Argilac's words and a few parchments hardly make for a convincing argument." Gawen retorted.
"Then you'll be pleased to know that the Storm King intends to personally bring his nephew to Highgarden, Gawen." Mern cut right through any potential argument. "The old bastard did admit that the boy shared far too many Gardener traits, even if he had the Durrandon colouring." He added.
"Then we shall judge the boy when he arrives." Gawen conceded.
Edmund simply nodded in agreement. Despite his protectiveness of his late sister, he had the sense to recognize the need to confirm the boy's parentage.
Mern had no interest in recognizing a cuckoo. The Hightower incident was still fresh on everyone's minds, despite being centuries since its occurrence.
…
"Well, he's certainly Eleanor's boy, there's no denying that." Gawen easily acquiesced.
"What a beautiful child. It's obvious Eleanor's bloodline was doing all the work." Another of his children stated contemptuously.
Edmund gave his sibling a sharp glance. "Don't let Old Argilac hear you. He might cave your head in with his hammer for insulting his brother." He warned.
They had finally laid eyes upon the prodigal son, and even Mern was surprised by the startling similarity between his daughter and his grandson.
If it wasn't for his coloring, Mern could have sworn his sole daughter had risen from the grave and been brought back by the gods as a boy of all things. It was quite jarring if he was being honest.
"The other Great Houses will not take this kindly." His High Steward stated softly.
Harlan Tyrell, while an able man and steward, was also stubbornly cautious. Always wary of anything that might spark conflict between the Kingdoms. To him, maintaining the status quo was paramount to the stability of the Mander.
Naturally, Mern disagreed with him, feeling the man was being far too craven. "Does it matter? They may not like it, but they'll have to accept it. With the two most powerful Houses in alliance, they can only cower in fear." The King sneered.
That brief peace between him and Loren might even last longer than expected now that the boy's lineage was all but assured.
Argilac, for all his aggression, was a family man through and through. He would not take action against the Reach as long as their shared scion breathed.
"Did you see the look in his eyes, father?" Edmund questioned.
"Indeed. The way he looked at my grandson and his daughter. There's no doubt my bloodline will soon rule the Stormlands." Mern said, in excitement brimming within him at the mere thought of it.
He would do what every Gardener had failed to do before him. Tie the Stormlands firmly to the Reach for centuries to come. The title of Peacemaker didn't seem too far off. In fact, it appeared to be closer than ever before.
"I suggest sending someone loyal to our House to watch over the boy. We can't let the marcher lords' sycophants get too close to him." Gawen suggested.
As paranoid as always. His second son never failed to show his deep mind.
The Marcher lords would no doubt be vying to get the boy for themselves. A Durrandon with a claim to the Mander was a far too valuable prize to easily give up. It didn't matter which Kingdom such a child belonged to. Both sides would no doubt attempt to influence him for their own personal gain.
Then again, he doubted the Storm King would ignore such attempts. This was his stabilizer, one who looked as if he'd been specially sent by the gods.
Everyone had been holding their breath for the potential civil war that would break out within the Stormlands once the old King perished. The king was far too old to beget a male heir.
Even Mern had waited patiently for the gains he could make once everything fell apart.
Now things had changed. For the better, it seemed.
…
(???, ???)
"How interesting, perhaps these squabbling fools may have some sense in their heads." He mused out loud.
Curious about his words. His precious hatchling peered over his desk, attempting to catch a glimpse of whatever information he'd received.
Instead of admonishing her as someone in his station would normally do, the Dragonlord gently raised his beloved daughter onto his lap, giving her free rein to read through his reports.
It was blatant favoritism. He was well aware of how it appeared to everyone else, yet he couldn't help himself.
Aegon was far too sullen, more interested in the sword and doting over his younger sister. Whereas Rhaenys was far too whimsical, content with chasing the latest gossip and wrapping her brother around her fingers.
Only Visenya showed interest in the rulership of the island and maintaining the customs and traditions of their people.
Her interest in the blood magic of their ancestors always calmed his worries. At least, it would survive through her, even if his other children showed no interest in it.
As the last remaining scions of Valyria, Aerion and his family were duty-bound to carry its legacy and keep it alive. Unfortunately, as the years passed, it appeared that the task only got more difficult.
Neither the Celtigers nor the Velaryons truly kept to their traditions anymore, intermingling with the barbarian Westerosi and leaving him to pick up the scraps.
The Celtigars were a lost cause, but the Velaryons still had some hope. His own lady-wife was a Velaryon after all, thus making them more tolerable. Now if only his good brother wasn't an overly ambitious cunt.
Everything would be so much better.
"Father, why does this child interest you?" His little pearl queried. Her face scrunched in confusion.
"Did the Maester not tell you? Hmm." It appeared that he would have to have some words with the man. No knowledge should be beyond his daughter. "Never mind that for now, all you need to understand is that these royals rarely wed beyond their borders, preferring to intermingle with their lesser vassals, rather than with their peers."
"That seems foolish. Wouldn't it be more pragmatic for them to forge alliances with their neighbours? The Riverlanders would certainly be better off if they had the support of another Kingdom."
"You'd think they would. In fact, it's what they used to do before the Kingdoms truly began to take the shape they have today, but as the borders solidified, to prevent the other Kingdoms from gaining a claim over another, they gradually stopped doing so."
"This can be considered the first true union between the Royal Houses in centuries, one that doesn't include distant and overall inconsequential relatives."
Visenya gained a thoughtful look on her face. "Will it affect us?"
"Truthfully, that remains to be seen. Though if they do decide to take action against us, then Balerion shall show them the error of their ways." He responded confidently.
What were mere armies compared to the legendary beasts that had conquered half the world? They were simply mortals, ones who greatly overestimated their worth.
The Lockstep legions of Ancient Ghis had failed to stop the Freehold. These lesser Westerosi armies had no hope when compared to the highly disciplined free men of Ghiscar. Not when their armies were made of smallfolk who were only a step above the slaves of Essos.
He snorted at the thought of the armies of Westeros facing dragonfire. Visenya clearly agreed if her giggles were any indication.
Little did he know, it wouldn't be armies of mortals facing down his dragon, but a lone man. One whose blood carried storm and lightning.
For if there was one thing that could face Dragons without fear, then it was nature itself.
…
(???, ???)
When he first started regaining memories of his past life. He'd thought he was going mad.
What else would one call memories of another world? One where steel and glass dominated the landscape, where there was a political leaning for every grain of sand? One where an individual's power came in the form of currency rather than in terms of who had the bigger military.
It was jarring to recall, even more so considering how vastly different his life was here.
Here, he wasn't a student struggling to keep up with his workload, writing essays and reports that he would likely never open again. Worrying about whether he'd be able to register the required courses, and whether the great overlord of education would have mercy on his soul when exams made their presence known.
No, it seemed as if Lady Luck had decided that being born as a prince was his fate, heir secondary to the Stormlands. As for the primary heir, that would be his cousin Argella, who insisted on bringing him wherever she went.
Of course, nothing could be that simple. He was well aware of his mother's sensitive identity, which had affected the way most Stormlords looked at him. The warhawks wanted to push his claim on the Reach, the conservatives wanted him recognized as the sole heir over his cousin, whereas the moderates wanted him dead.
His Uncle thankfully ignored their views, having his own plans for the young prince.
Whatever they were, he had little interest. Rather than relying on the whims of his Uncle and the divisive lords, Erlend sought a different goal: familiarizing himself with the bloodline abilities he'd awakened.
Gently touching the ground beneath him, the Durrandon scion watched in fascination as the land around him came alive, grass seemed to grow, flower buds bloomed, and trees grew taller.
It was quite the sight to see, and to think all it took him was to will it into happening.
Reining in intent, the sudden growth immediately halted. The environment was returning to normal, though it remained in its accelerated growth phase. Good thing he was in an isolated location. Otherwise, people would start asking questions.
The only thing troubling him about his maternal bloodline was that it wasn't all too useful for defending him. Unfortunately, it appeared his bloodline was simply too basic to achieve something akin to Mokuton, much to his disappointment.
Hell, he couldn't even build houses with it.
Its true usage was in its strategic value. As long as Erlend lived, his presence alone would ensure that the Stormlands would never starve, achieving harvests that could make the Reach weep in envy.
Hell, he was still too young to even make use of the fertility aspect that his ancient ancestor was known for.
Still, Erlend felt that if he could make use of his maternal bloodline, then there was nothing stopping him from awakening his paternal one. It was a bloodline that he looked forward to much more than being an unrivalled farmer.
Fair Elenei was said to have been the daughter of the Sea God and the Goddess of the Wind. Whether they were actual gods or outrageously powerful sorcerers was unknown, but they were powerful enough to destroy six castles with ease, so Erlend felt that whatever power he ended up inheriting from them would put him at a minimum on the same level as Balerion.
He was quite particular in wanting to awaken something to do with lightning. Following the 'wisdom' of previous reincarnators, the young prince's main goal wasn't world domination.
No. His real goal was to punch a fucking dragon in the face, and not just any dragon, but the largest one Westeros would ever see!
A goal worthy of his alleged descent from the gods. His old world had Hercules; then, Westeros had an Erlend.
…
(Argilac Durrandon)
If the Storm King knew what his nephew was thinking about at the moment, he would no doubt tan the brat's hide till it turned red enough to make a maiden blush.
Especially with all the trouble he was unintentionally causing. No, at the moment, he was busy trying to hide his nephew's bloodline.
Young Erlend might have thought himself clever in hiding his abilities, but Argilac wasn't a fool. Once was a coincidence, twice was a happenstance, but over a dozen times.
Well, that was a completely different matter.
If it wasn't for that mysterious man's aid, his nephew's abilities would have long since been exposed, and the Gardeners would be at his doorstep attempting to claim the lad for themselves.
The mysterious man's abilities troubled the old King, but he had no choice but to make use of them. He was the only one capable of shielding his nephew in these uncertain times.
Argilac knew how much stock those green fuckers put into bloodline. Erlend's abilities would be the proof they would need to validate their legendary ancestor.
Garth Greenhand was revered within the Reach, yet at the same time, the rest of the kingdoms felt his reputation was inflated. Believing most stories about him were just pure nonsense and housewife tales.
For the Gardeners, once Erlend's abilities came to light, the tales behind their ancestors would likely prove true. Most troubling of all were the fanciful claims that he was a High King who reigned over the First Men.
Considering that a majority of the continent had First Men blood running through them, even those Andal houses. Then it could prove troublesome.
House Gardener was recognized as being Greenhand's traditional heirs. They would no doubt attempt to 'reclaim' that title, regardless of whether it was real or not.
Of course, what infuriated everyone else was the Reach's attempt to claim seniority and kinship over every other Royal House.
Not that he was any different, the Storm King was looking forward to his nephew awakening the Durrandon bloodline. If the Gardener's side could awaken, then he felt that Elenei's divine bloodline shouldn't be too difficult.
So far, only he, the mysterious man, and his daughter knew of the brat's gifts. All had been sworn to secrecy, wanting to avoid unleashing a war too soon.
He was worried that the sister-fuckers on their paltry island would feel threatened by Erlend's existence and would come after him while he was still weak.
Argilac could admit that he was arrogant, but even he recognized the futility of men facing those beasts. His pride demanded that he never give in, regardless of how outmatched he was.
This was a trait shared by all predecessors, and he was well aware that both his daughter and nephew also held this trait. For Elenei's sake, his brother died because he was too proud to flee from the slavers.
His late father had called it House Durrandon's greatest flaw. It was the reason why they were so volatile when compared to their counterparts from the rest of the Royal Houses.
Still, if anyone thought they could harm his blood, then they had another thing coming. Argilac would never back down.
'Ours is the Fury!'
------
With a wingspan so large that its shadow could engulf entire two-legged settlements whenever he passed. Teeth as long as those swords and jaws large enough to swallow an auroch whole.
The Black Dread was a fearsome dragon, one that struck fear into the hearts of all those who laid eyes on him. One that wielded fire that was as black as his scales and wings, and could melt steel and stone. So why?
Why did this young princeling face such a fearsome beast with such palpable excitement?
There was no fear apparent on his face. It was like a young hatchling facing danger for the first time, with no sense of preservation and brimming with curiosity.
Not for the first time, he regretted inviting this brat to the island.
------
"So you're him?" A curious voice sounded.
Turning confusedly to the most recent resident of his liege father's home, the bastard could not make head or tail of what the child possibly wanted from him.
Instead of the hostility he'd come to expect from those soft nobles. The lad had been nothing but friendly. Still, he could not help but feel as if he was being judged. Not in a hostile manner, but enough to give him pause.
Not wanting to bring trouble to both their feet. "You should head back, child. Her ladyship will not take kindly to us conversing." He let out gruffly.
Raising his head in mock contempt. "Hmph. I'm a prince, who dares tell me who I can and cannot interact with." The lad declared out loud.
Before the brat could go on with his nonsense, a familiar voice cut through their conversation. "And what makes you think you can ignore me, Hmm…"
Both of them froze at that, turning to meet the deep purple eyes of a very unamused-looking young lady.
The young prince took one look at the angry valyrian girl before choosing what Orys felt was the most appropriate action. One, he found himself swiftly following.
"NIGERUNDAYO!"
------
They had all received two ravens.
One from the isolated dragonslords and another from the Storm Kingdom.
Both carried the same demand: swear fealty or face destruction, either by fire and blood or storm and wind. Those who bent the knee would keep their lands and titles, but those who refused would be overthrown and destroyed.
Now, they had three choices in their hands.
Submit to the Foreigners, submit to the Storm King, or raise arms and resist. Regardless of what they chose, only one path remained clear to all.
War.
======
[Big Note:]
Originally, I was gonna have Felix or Matthias be the MCs of this idea, but then I realized Erlend was far more compatible. I also had ideas of making his mother a Valyrian, but decided against it, since I wasn't really interested in having another dragonlord MC. Especially since they were greatly underused in LoN and were overshadowed by magic.
Here, we're leaning more into Erlend's battle junky nature, instead of his scheming and paranoia traits. So less thinking, more fighting, I guess. As for the girls, they will be Argella and Visenya. I don't know what to do with Rhaenys, so she's shelved till I can think of something for her. Erlend's relationship with Aegon will be complicated; they both aim to achieve the same goals, yet both disagree on how to go about it. Who will come out on top? Well, that's for the future to see.
Anyway, cheers and hope your summers were interesting!