Summerhall 301 AC,
Elia Martell.
She had not expected Daemon's return but like her husband, son, and granddaughter, Elia had very much welcomed it. The men of Dorne, the knights, lords, and heirs they were, had very much not. They had witnessed firsthand the true extent of the destruction that Daemon and Lyanax were capable of, and Elia now looked at its grisly aftermath. There was a time she'd have done so with tears in her eyes. A time when she'd have wept for what had been wrought on Dorne. Now, she did anything but.
Whether by choice, good fortune, or Daemon's god enjoying a jape, almost all of those who'd heard her word during the parley, lived still. Few of them had been untouched by the dragon's flames entirely, but even they had suffered less than the vast majority of the men her brothers had sent her way. Now it was time to judge those men and for Elia to live up to the words she'd spoken to each of them. For them to learn that to be Unbowed, Unbent, and Unbroken was for her, no pretense or mummery. If anyone asked her, Elia would say these poor fools believed it had been.
"You are ready, my love?" she asked Rhaegar who had removed his armor and yet still wore Dark Sister on his hip.
"You don't think Daemon should?"
"It was us both that they attacked, Rhaegar. We, our son, and our grandchild. Had you fallen to their blades it was your very life they sought to take from you. No, this is not Daemon's work nor is it his god's that we go about today. This is our own bloody business." she said determinedly. Happy to see Rhaegar nod and show his determination in return.
Aegon had asked for and been given leave to be elsewhere. Her son had recovered greatly from the wounds he'd suffered in Essos, yet some of those wounds would take much longer for Aegon to not have nightmares about. To see as much bloodshed as was soon to stain the ground outside Summerhall, would be a step too far and so along with her granddaughter, Aegon would be elsewhere. Daemon however would be there to add his authority to hers and Rhaegar's own. The King of the Seven Kingdoms would allow what Elia said to be considered true. Even if she was not sure if, in the end, she could go through with that part of the sentencing. Promise it she may have, delivering upon it, still gave her pause. Daemon she knew, paused not.
Looking to the men who would live to see another day, all of them forced to bear witness to what was to come, Elia pitied them not. None would see Dorne again. Nor know the heat of the sun or the warmth of the desert sands. From here, it would be to the Wall or they too would meet their makers this very day. No matter how loudly they cried out that they were just following orders.
As for the men who gave their orders. Elia knew that they too would not be long for the world. That by the time Daemon or the man they had so recklessly allied with was done, House Martell may very well be no more. Oberyn and Doran certainly would not be. Elia had tried and failed to get her brothers to see sense. She'd warned them what would happen if they went against Daemon and they had listened to her not. Now, her only thoughts were on her more immediate family. Some of whom were much safer than others and would no longer be truly in the firing line. She, Rhaegar, Aegon, and her granddaughter would know peace. Even if both Daemon and Rhaenys would need to know war for a little longer at least.
"Father, Elia." Daemon greeted them both. Elia noticed how Rhaegar now stood a little straighter upon hearing himself named as such. She knew he'd feared that Daemon would never be able to truly speak the words. That he'd name him so, only because it was the done thing to do, not because he wished it or felt Rhaegar to be his father.
' I believe he feels it and wishes it now. As does my husband.'
"Your grace," Elia replied as Rhaegar took a moment to speak his own words back to his son. Only once he did so did Thoros of Myr step forward.
"Men of Dorne, you have been found guilty of attacking His Grace Rhaegar Targaryen and Her Grace Elia Martell with no justification or reason. You have been found guilty of attacking the peaceful lands of Summerhall without cause or provocation.
In doing so, you have broken the King's Peace and by Order of King Daemon Targaryen and in the name of his father and stepmother." Elia gasped a little, Daemon's nod to her allowing a small smile to come to her face. "You are sentenced to the following. Your grace, if you would." Thoros looked at her.
Elia moved forward. The proclamation was written in her own hand and signed by her, Rhaegar, and Daemon. It named each man who had raised his spear here today as the traitors they were. Stripped their Houses of any right to name their lands their own. Sent their heirs to the Wall, and for their part, their lives were now forfeit. Elia looked to the five men who knelt with their heads bowed and if she was another woman, she'd have taken pleasure in the sight. She did not. She could not. Yet, she felt no remorse or reservation in what she now so loudly declared.
"I promised you all what would happen if you persisted with this folly. Told you all what would become of yourselves and your Houses should you dare to do as you plotted and planned. My brothers are fools. You, however, are so much worse. You are men led by fools.
House Wyl, House Qorgoyle, House Yronwood, and House Allyrion are hereby attainted and stripped of all their holdings. All their remaining male members are to be offered the choice of the Black or the Block. The female members may choose the Sept or the Silent Sisters. As for you, Dark Sister has a hunger for blood and today she shall sate herself with yours.
Rhaegar if you will."
Cletus Yronwood was the first, followed by his cousin Ser Archibald. The latter of the two men did not cry out as he lost his hands before then losing his head. As for the former, Cletus wept like a babe. Wyland Wyl and Gulian Qorgoyle spoke or wept not, but Ser Ryon pleaded for his brother, for his sons and his wife. He pleaded for his bastard son too, and yet his words went unheard or unanswered, at least briefly. Daemon moving forward to speak.
"You dared attack my family, Ser. My father, brother, my niece. You dared to attack them all. Even after you were warned of what you would reap by doing so, you attacked them still. In front of you stands your princess. Elia of the House Martell. Unbowed, Unbent, and Unbroken as only she can be, for mark my words, her brothers will very much not be when I am done with them.
You dared attack a woman who is a true Lady of Dorne. Even after she swore to you what fate doing so would lead to.
Now you plead for mercy. Beg for the lives of your family and for them to suffer a better fate than that which was planned for mine own. No, the only mercy you will be given is at the end of Dark Sister's blade, Ser.
Father, remove this man from this world lest Lyanax, I, or my god decide to do so instead."
With that, Rhaegar slashed downward with Dark Sister before slashing upward. Elia almost had to turn away from the sight of Ser Ryon Allyrion's entrails falling out of the hole that was his chest and stomach. She could hear the man's screams and though they went on only for a moment before Rhaegar took his head, it was a moment that felt never-ending. Then, it was done. Five men lay dead and this army that had attacked her home was now no more.
"See that the bodies are treated respectfully and their bones brought back to Dorne," she said to Summerhall's guards.
"And their families?" Daemon asked.
"Are no concern of mine, your grace."
She and Rhaegar shared a long embrace in their chambers. Dark Sister had been cleaned and put away. Close by, but out of sight for now. As for Daemon, it seemed as eager as he wished to return to his wife and grandmother, his sister, aunt, and uncle, he was in no desperate hurry to do so. Elia kissed her husband on the cheek and bid him to speak to his son, to finally try and close the rift between them.
"Though I have every confidence that today will not be the last time we see him, Rhaegar, treat it as such."
"I…"
"Fix what was broken between you both. Don't let this parting be one with things left unsaid."
"I won't," Rhaegar said firmly.
Summerhall 301 AC,
Rhaegar Targaryen.
His family were safe, most of them at least. Rhaenys, Daenerys, Viserys, and his mother would soon find themselves in the path of the storm that headed their way. Daemon would be right in the eye of that storm, however. Thankfully after having borne witness to just what Lyanax and his son were capable of, Rhaegar felt less fear about that than he probably should. Or he did until Elia had spoken to him and bid him to talk to Daemon.
" Don't let this parting be one with things left unsaid." his wife's words were as wise as ever and Rhaegar now wished he'd listened to her far earlier than now.
Leaving Elia to look after his son and granddaughter, Rhaegar walked through the keep in search of his other son. He felt a father's pride at what Daemon had done. A wish that his mother had been here to see it, as he had wished for her to see much of what their son had done since his return to Westeros. Rhaegar smiled slightly as he knew that Lyanna looked down upon their Prince Who Was Promised. To his surprise, it was one he wore all the way to Summerhall's Godswood.
Next to an oak, not a Weirwood, was where he took his seat and waited. Where his son now was, he knew not, and yet for some reason, Rhaegar believed that Daemon would find him. So he closed his eyes and thought of days long past. Dreamt almost of things not done and how different it may have been if Lyanna had lived and presented him with their son. It was a thought he'd had more than once these past few moons. One that did little to assuage the guilt he feared over how he'd treated his son, but it was a pleasant distraction while he waited for Daemon to join him.
"Father." the voice called out and Rhaegar kept his eyes shut just so he could hear himself be named as such once more "Father, are you well?" Daemon asked concernedly.
"I am. Or I will be." Rhaegar opened his eyes. "I've never killed a man who was not actively engaged in trying to kill me. It's never fallen to me to be the King's Justice."
"It had to be you, Father," Daemon said and Rhaegar nodded. Happy once more to hear the word being spoken aloud.
"It did, Elia is a far smarter woman than I ever deserved. As too was your mother."
"I've not heard anyone speak of her cleverness." Daemon took a seat beside him. "Her Fierceness. Stubbornness. Her Strength of Will, these I've heard much of. My Uncles, Arthur. In the letters that I found she'd written."
"Letters?"
"To my uncle when he was in the Vale, to friends she had in the North. I've been lucky enough to see and read some of them."
"How?" he asked curiously.
"R'hllor gives many gifts to his chosen, Father," Daemon smirked before laughing fully and truly. "Your face is a picture. My god has no power over the cold North, Father. No, my uncles have sent me some, they had some copied and Davos and Melisandre both thought I would like to read them."
Rhaegar found himself chuckling. Never did he think his son would ever care enough to pull a prank on him. Even such a minor one as this. It was something he found himself wishing he'd have known much more of. His expression then darkened as he realized that this Daemon would never have had a chance to become who he was had Rhaegar had his way. Daemon surprised him once again by noticing his expression and commenting on it.
"It's not your fault," Daemon said. Rhaegar turned to him. "I know I've blamed you for so much of it, and yet, mayhap it's because of what I've done or what I'm about to do, but it's not your fault."
"Son I…"
"Were a terrible father to me, true. And yet had you been a good one, where would we be now? In the Lands Beyond the Wall, the Free Folk live in peace because of what I was able to do with my god and Thoros' help. Right now in Essos, my Brother by Choice leads a united Khalasar and has fulfilled his destiny because R'hllor saw to it that our paths crossed. As for what marches toward King's Landing, the man who leads them and what they seek, I would not have the tools to stop them was it not for how I was raised."
"It absolves me not, Daemon."
"No, that falls to me, father." Daemon rose and bid him to do likewise. "You lost yourself after mother died. I finally understand that. It's taken Myrcella and the knowledge that I'm to be a father myself for me to finally understand."
"I'm sorry, Daemon, truly I am."
"I forgive you for your part in things, father. And I thank you for them too."
"Daemon…"
"Our family, our House, Westeros itself, it'll be me and my god, those who fight alongside us, and themselves that they thank, and while I cannot thank you for how I was raised or for the years we lost because of it. I can forgive you for them."
Daemon embraced him and it took all he had in him not to sob and weep upon his son's shoulder. He had never believed that they would ever speak in such a way. Not even in his dreams did he expect such a thing. They had reached some level of peace and understanding between them in King's Landing before he'd left for Summerhall. This, however, was what he needed as much as he did air to breathe.
How long they stood there, he knew or cared not. The cough when it came was unwelcome and yet Daemon took one more moment before he turned to Thoros. Rhaegar then took a further moment to compose himself and look to his son and the red priest who had been more of a father to him than he had ever been.
"The Stormlords have arrived, Daemon," Thoros said and Daemon nodded, turning to him to bid him walk with him. Rhaegar though needed one more moment and he wished too to speak to Thoros of Myr.
"May Thoros and I have a few moments, son?" he asked as Daemon looked at him curiously before nodding.
"I'll see you both in the keep."
Rhaegar watched his son walk away and felt his breath hitch in his throat. The fear that he'd never see him again had risen and threatened to steal his senses from him. Thankfully, Daemon noticed it not. Thoros however very much did and the red priest allowed him to compose himself a little more before speaking.
"He's as content as I've ever known him, your grace." Thoros began, Rhaegar not correcting him and naming himself as a former not current king. "As happy as he ever wished to be," Thoros added. "Daemon fears not the upcoming war even though he knows that this one risks far more than the other two battles we've fought."
"Why?" Rhaegar asked with a confused look. "Why does he fear not?" he clarified.
"Because he walks in the light of our god. He is his chosen and my prince believes, as do I, that R'hllor chose well." Thoros smiled.
"I… I want to thank you." Rhaegar said to a shake of Thoros' head. "I need to."
"For why? For being by his side. My god willed it of me at first and ever since. Yet, even had he not, I would walk where my prince walks. The very best years of my life have been spent in his company, your grace. As old as I am, I've only ever truly lived when I've been by his side. You have no need to thank me for doing as my heart bid me to. No more than you need to thank him for coming to your rescue here today. For both of us did only what we wished to do."
After Thoros walked away, Rhaegar knelt and offered up a prayer to the gods of Daemon's mother. He'd long stopped believing in any of his own and though Daemon named another his god, Rhaegar believed you could never have too many on your side. He believed too that they'd not answer him, yet they'd be unable to ignore Lyanna's prayers and pleas to them. That wherever she was, she'd indeed be offering those prayers and pleas.
"Or she'd be hitting them over the head and demanding they come to our son's aid in his time of need." Rhaegar smiled.
By the time he had walked back to the keep, the plans had already been firmed up for the garrison to be left behind. Daemon feared not that Summerhall would come under another attack. Instead, his son believed that the Dornish would think themselves successful already and that the news of their success had just been delayed in arriving. His son was of the mind that when Oberyn eventually realized his plans had failed, the true battle would already be upon them and the Red Viper would have not time to launch another attack on them. Rhaegar could fault the logic not.
With Summerhall now truly garrisoned and knowing that it would take a larger army than Dorne had to set against it for it to fall, the time had come to say their goodbyes for true. Rhaegar watched as his son spoke to his niece, promises of a dragon ride one day in the future something that brought a true smile to his granddaughter's face. Aegon was embraced by his brother and words were whispered between them both. Elia too was soon wrapped in a tight embrace and this time it was his wife who spoke while Daemon listened before he then answered.
Finally, it was time to say their goodbyes and it seemed that neither of them truly had the words. Rhaegar told his son how proud he was of him and how much he loved him and Daemon told him that he loved him back. The tears that had threatened to fall earlier now did, and Rhaegar felt no shame for allowing so many people to look upon him as he wept over the thoughts that he'd never see his son again. As he wept over the years they lost and prayed they would know ones to come.
"I walk in R'hllor's light, father. My god knows not how to fail and he's been planning this war from before there were dragons in the world."
He said no words, he could not. Instead, he offered up what he hoped was a comforting smile and one that showed his faith in his son. Rhaegar put it not in R'hllor but in Daemon himself.
' I owe him that much and more.'
King's Landing 301 AC,
Shiera Seastar.
She finally arrived at the city. The journey had been one that had been fraught with the worry that she'd be too late. That the ruby she knew was so very important in the upcoming battle, would be one that would remain with her and not be with the man who truly needed it. However, in one respect her fears turned out to be for naught. Shiera arrived at a King's Landing that while it was preparing for a battle, wasn't actively engaged in one.
What she didn't expect was to find that there were still dangers for her to face before she reached the Red Keep. The men came out of the shadows and sought to stop her from reaching the safety that her family and numbers would bring her. Yet these men were no match for the ones that they soon faced. Men of the Hundred along with a white wolf made light work of them and left none of them alive to speak on who sent them.
' Not that I need to know such a thing.'
Shiera had felt it on the last leg of her journey. The darkness that would soon be upon them all. She knew too the reason for that darkness and the force behind it. So, as she was escorted to the Red Keep under the protection of the men of the Hundred, Shiera needed them not to tell her that these men of Dorne had been sent to take a member of House Targaryen prisoner or to see one fall. Nor did she need to hear that others in her House had faced their own attacks in this very city. Or that the Red Keep and the city itself were in lockdown. Only the docks were still open to the outside world.
Upon arriving at the Red Keep, she was greeted by Queen Rhaella and her ever-faithful knight. Ser Bonifer asked his questions of the men who'd escorted her here and what troubles they'd faced in doing so, while the queen moved to her and asked her had her task been accomplished. Shiera opened her hand to show her the ruby that she held in it and Rhaella gave her a smile when she did so.
"I've been told that Daemon will arrive on the morrow. That the battle, the war, he was destined to fight will be upon us by week's end."
"Good," she said relieved. A frown then appeared on the queen's face at her words "I made it in time."
Her words were not enough to remove the frown completely, but they did at least lessen it somewhat. As she and the queen, along with Ser Bonifer and the queen's guards, walked through the Red Keep, there was no sign of the white wolf. Ghost may have come to her to see her safely to the Red Keep, he was not to be her guardian it seemed. Shiera certain of whom it was that the white wolf would be spending his time with and it brought a soft smile to her face to know this was so.
Upon reaching the queen's rooms, Shiera was offered and accepted refreshments. Her hunger was something that had come upon her gradually and yet when she ate, she barely picked at her food. The wine she drank more truly. One glass in a single swallow and the second she sipped as she handed the ruby to Rhaella and began to tell her its gruesome tale.
"It truly belonged to Queen Rhaenys?" Rhaella asked and Shiera nodded.
"All five belonged to members of our family at one time, or so I believe. One to Rhaenys and another to The Rogue Prince. The one I gifted Bloodraven belonged to the Dragonknight, those three I am certain of. I believe one to have belonged to the Dreamer and that it was taken by Princess Saera when she ran from Westeros. Later she gifted it to R'hllor in exchange for the freedom to live her life how she wished, or so it's been told to me."
"The last one?"
"Was once mine own. I gifted it to Aemon Targaryen for my path had been set and Essos was far too dangerous for me, let alone for that ruby. As for the one already there, that was held by a god and under no danger of being taken from R'hllor before he was ready to gift it himself.
"He gifted it to Daemon did he not?" Rhaella smiled.
"The first of many gifts."
"Your own, princess, where did that come from?" Ser Bonifer asked.
"It belonged to Princess Aerea and was the reason she was able to make it back to Westeros after what happened to her in Valyria."
Rhaella gasped. The tale of the young princess was one that all in their House knew and it was not a pleasant one. Shiera could see that like her, Rhaella blamed the girl's mother for basically imprisoning her on Dragonstone. The Conciliator too she blamed, for not intervening. Yet even now as she was doing this and as he mind began to compare their actions to the ones her son took regarding her grandson, Rhaella listened to Shiera speak. In a way, Shiera believed she wished she'd not done so.
"Yet the tale is only half true and the true owner was Princess Rhaella."
"It cannot be."
"The girls were unhappy with their lot in life, both of them were forced to live where they wished not and they had been refused leave to be who they truly desired to be. All simply due to the timing of their births. So they took each other's place and it was Rhaella not Aerea who flew to Valyria. Her sister who then spent the rest of her life blaming herself for allowing the switch to occur."
"Is there no end of cruelty that the gods seek fit to impose upon the women of our House." Rhaella's anger threatened to explode.
"Which is why it took a god that none of us followed to show Daemon the true path. Why Daemon put his faith in R'hllor as much as R'hllor did so with him."
"The Old Gods, the Seven who are One, even the Gods of Valyria, are none of them true or are they all simply monsters who name themselves as what they are not." Rhaella snapped.
"There is but one monster who names himself a god, and his army marches our way, Rhaella. Speak to Daemon upon his return. Ask him about the gods and should you wish it, name his own as yours too."
"Have you?" Rhaella asked.
"Dragons are fire made flesh, are they not." Shiera smiled. "Brynden looked to the gods of ice, to the gods of the North. He served them and they took all he was or ever had been from him. When I… what I saw when I looked upon him, in my dreams ever since, and from what Daemon told me of him. I curse them for what they did to him and thank mine own god that he sought not to do the same with me."
They spoke no more of gods after that. Rhaella handed her back the ruby and Shiera made her way to where the queen and her ladies were engaged in what seemed to be idle gossip and japes. She was glad to hear it and to see them so relaxed. Even if it was only a mummery they were performing.
"Princess….Daemon is he with you?" Myrcella asked to a shake of Shiera's head.
"Yet I believe he'll be here soon, your grace."
"You do?"
"With all I am, your grace."
That night she ate with the queen, with Rhaella, Daenerys, Sansa Stark, and Margaery Tyrell. Ser Bonifer too ate with them and when the time came for her to make for her bed, Shiera spoke words of comfort to Myrcella before doing so. She showed her the ruby and said that Daemon was always destined to gather all five. That with them, she believed that none could stand against him.
Shiera spoke of the blue eyes that Daemon had already shut for good. The red eyes that he had gone to Essos to see closed too. While she believed that the white ones would be harder to close, Shiera had faith that they would indeed be dealt with. Rhaella had spoken to her of the armies that marched their way and so Shiera now spoke to Myrcella of them. As she did of the fact that Daemon had thus far fought with fewer men than he would soon have to call upon. The men of the North, West, Reach, and the Vale, of the Riverlands, Storm and Crownlands. Daemon's own men too would play their part in the battle to come, or so she told the young worried girl.
Yet it was not until she spoke of the dreams she had that Myrcella truly relaxed and seemed at ease. Shiera spoke of the children she'd seen in those dreams. Myrcella's hand touched her stomach as Shiera told her of her third son, of Daemon's third son, and that she'd seen him both in her dreams and her visions. She spoke then of how Daemon had conquered death already and this seemed to be most welcome to Myrcella's ears. A small smile appeared on her face that showed her worries had been assuaged if not fully chased away.
The next morning, it was to the children that Shiera made her way to. They were now making the Godswood of the Red Keep their home rather than anywhere else. Their safety needed to be guaranteed or at least made as close to such as was possible. So Shiera was happy to see so many guards around them and to see the Children themselves so busy at their work.
"For the prince," Leaf said as Shiera looked at the large sacks filled with what looked like stones. "For the battle to come."
"You will not fight," Shiera ordered.
"We will not fight, yet we will play our part too. As must you." Leaf called upon one of the other Children and Shiera almost gagged when she saw the paste in the child's hand.
"How?"
"The gods provide." Leaf's words were as cryptic as her expression and in the end, it mattered not. Despite not wishing to do so, Shiera swallowed the paste and knelt by the tree.
"Show me what I need to know."
The Riverlands 301 AC,
Ned Stark.
He had hoped to never have to lead an army to war again. At times, he'd prayed to the Old Gods to see that was so. Leading the largest army the North had called upon since the rebellion, Ned found himself free of any doubts, however. His nephew had called and the North would answer in force. It was the least they could do, even if it had not been against a force that would not be content with simply removing Daemon from the Iron Throne.
Ned had believed that he'd managed to avoid fighting in another war. That Daemon's actions with the Ironborn had made that so. He knew that Dorne took umbrage with his nephew being named king, but the rest of the realm was fully behind Daemon. His marriage to Myrcella Lannister had brought Daemon the West. Stannis Baratheon had been named as Master of Laws and was finally fully accepted back into the fold as a true Lord Paramount. So that gave his nephew the Stormlands too.
The Riverlands were fully behind their new king and with Bran to rule over them as their Warden of the Trident, this was even truer. While the Vale wished to be seen as good and true and its knights too would answer any call. Ned may have worried about the Reach somewhat. He may not care for the so-called Game of Thrones, but he understood it well enough and the Tyrells had hoped for a queen. Instead, they were getting a Prince Consort to a Princess who served as the Hand of the King. That alone garnered Daemon their support. As too did the betrothal between Margaery Tyrell and Tommen Lannister, for in that or from the marriage between Princess Rhaenys and Willas Tyrell, the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms was like to be born.
Daemon had his own men to call upon as well. Not to mention the dragon of course. So Ned had not expected that even with their hurt feelings and thoughts of being pushed to one side, Dorne would ever dare to pull on the dragon's tail. Yet, the raven that arrived from Queen Rhaella said they did and in this, they acted not alone. Men from Essos that had taken issue with his nephew had joined their cause to Dorne's own and yet even this was not the full truth of things. Daemon's own words had been spoken to him and Benjen as they stood by the Weirwood in Winterfell's Godswood, telling the truth of the battles to come.
" Three sets of eyes must I close, uncle. Red, White, and Blue. Where those battles are to be fought or when I know not. Only that I must fight them and I must win when I do."
" You seek the North, Daemon?"
" Would it be wrong of me to say I do not." Daemon laughed a bitter laugh. "I seek to fight the wars on mine own, with the men I have gathered over the years. Were it up to me then with Lyanax, my swords, and my god's favor I'd seek to fight these battles alone."
" It's not up to you though is it, nephew," Benjen said and Daemon nodded.
" We are all merely playthings in the hands of our gods, uncle. I'm just a lesser one than most."
So Ned had called the banners and they had marched south. Less than a year earlier he'd believed it would be Ironborn who'd be facing the fury of the North. At one point, years earlier, he'd almost expected it to be the dragons themselves. The news of Daemon's disappearance and the pitiful efforts made to find his nephew, along with how Daemon had been treated by his father, had almost given rise to the North being called to arms. Only the knowledge that they could not defeat the combined forces of Westeros that Rhaegar Targaryen could call upon, had stopped Ned from rising then.
"Nothing would stop me from doing so now," he said firmly.
They had left Moat Cailin behind more than two weeks earlier. Had traveled up the Kingsroad and Ned had expected it to be the Knights of the Vale they'd have met up with. Instead, it was the Riverlords and he was happy to see the Blackfish once again. His Goodbrother too, even if it was under other circumstances that he'd have preferred to have once again met Edmure.
The Knights of the Vale had traveled both by ship and by horse. Some left from Gulltown while the main and largest part of their army had ridden four days ahead of them. Neither he nor the Blackfish felt it would have done them any good to try and catch up with them and they were all heading in the same direction anyway, so Ned had done nothing to quicken their progress through the Riverlands. By the morrow, it would be the Crownlands that they would be marching in and within a week, they'd be on the outskirts of King's Landing itself. He hoped by then they'd have had a visit from his nephew.
' And that we face no impediment to our march.'
Despite the logistics of such a thing, Ned was wary of a battle being fought before they reached King's Landing. Even though Dorne would need to march from further south than they now were and could hardly do so without running into opposition, Ned prepared his men just in case. They sent out outriders, lined up pickets when they camped, and had numerous men on guard duty through the night when they slept. It was far better to be ready for an attack that never came than to be caught up in one you prepared not for, or so Ned believed.
"You look like you've got the weight of the world on your shoulders, brother."
"How can I not." Ned sighed.
"I don't fucking care who Dorne has on its side, they'll be no match for even our forces," Benjen said. "Look around you, brother. Seven Hells we could send the Greatjon on his own and the Red Viper would shit his fucking britches."
Ned laughed though it was a poor jape. Truth be told, not even Lyanax would make the Red Viper shit his britches. If that was so, then Dorne would not be marching in the first place. It made him worried a little. Curious as to what exactly Dorne had in their arsenal that made them believe they could take on a dragon for true. Not even the North at the height of its hubris had believed themselves to be a match for dragons. Aegon may have had three to Daemon's one, but Ned was under no doubt that his nephew would have made Torrhen kneel all the same.
As they camped that night, Ned looked around at the men with him. The good and true men and women of the North. To his left, the Greatjon was regaling any who would listen to his tales of what he'd do to the sand dwellers. Rickard Karstark sat with a smirk on his face that was difficult to see unless you were truly looking. Roose Bolton sat with Rodrik Ryswell, while a little further down, Robb sat with Roose's son Domeric and with the other heirs of the North. His son's presence added a further worry to Ned's mind. Good and capable Robb may be but he'd not fought for true and certainly not in a battle the likes of the one they would soon be engaged in.
Howland sat with Benjen, along with Maege and Jorah Mormont and they spoke with Big Bucket Wull and the other leaders of the Mountain Clans, all who had come out in force at Ned's call. A little away from them, the Riverlords sat around their fire. Edmure, the Blackfish, Jason Mallister and Raymun Darry, William Mooton, and even Jonos Bracken and Tytos Blackwood were all laughing at some jape or other. Feeling the need for his bed, Ned rose and bid them all a good night. He called his son to him and told Robb that he too should try and get a good night's rest. Laughed and patted Robb's back when his son asked him if he was being sent to his bed. Ned shook his head and simply bid Robb not to drink the night away. Not that there was any true need to do so. His son and heir was far too dutiful to do such a thing.
Laying his head down on his bedroll, Ned soon fell to sleep and his dreams that night were of his fierce little sister. Lyanna bid him to protect the pack and promised him that she too would do all she could in the fight to come. His sister told him that Sansa was safe and Ned almost felt shamed that he'd not thought of his eldest daughter and the fact that she was not in Winterfell with the rest of his family. He put it down to the thoughts of war itself as he'd not truly thought of Cat or his other children either. Then he resolved himself to send ravens to them from the first keep they reached in the next few days.
Eventually, true sleep claimed him, and the last image in his dreams that night was of his sister dressed in the armor she'd worn at Harrenhal. Lance in hand and with the shield that he remembered so very well all these years later, Lyanna seemed ready to once again ride for honor and not renown.
"No, big brother, I ride for my son. I ride for the pack, as I always have and will."
Blackwater Rush 301 AC,
Tywin Lannister.
How long had it been since he'd felt a rage like the one that simmered inside him?
What lengths would he go to once he let that rage loose on those who truly deserved to feel his wrath?
Would he be seen as a monster or a savior by his granddaughter and her new family?
These were among the many questions that Tywin had asked and answered since leaving Casterly Rock behind. For the first one, it had not been since the Reynes and the Tarbecks that he'd felt how he now did, and even then, he'd not felt it as truly as he did now. True, both Houses posed a threat to his own, but that was more in terms of reputation than anything else. Militarily they were but minor inconveniences and while the harm they may have done to House Lannister's reputation would have caused his family issues, his family were never in true danger before Tywin let the Rains pour down on his errant Bannermen.
For the second, there were no lengths he'd not go to once his army was face-to-face with the one from Dorne. The Martells wished his granddaughter dead. They wished the child that Myrcella bore in her womb, dead. For that alone, Tywin would see them all in the ground before he breathed his last breath. Yet, it was not just Myrcella who was in danger from Dorne and its allies. Jaime, Cersei, Tyrion, and Tommen were in King's Landing too, and in one fell swoop, Dorne could end his entire line.
"No, they shall not!" Tywin shouted determinedly. Even if it was only in his head that he did so.
As for the last, he believed that his granddaughter would not think less of him after he put the Dornish to the sword. Given what they planned for Myrcella and her husband, he doubted she'd see him as a monster, even if he bathed in Dornish blood she'd not do so. Daemon Targaryen had done terrible things to keep his family safe. House Greyjoy had all but been wiped out and the Iron Fleet destroyed at the cost of gods knows how many lives. He was loved unconditionally by his wife even after doing so. Myrcella was smart, clever, and most capable and so Tywin believed she'd not only understand what Dorne forced him to do, but she'd welcome it too.
While his Bannermen and his brothers understood it not, Tywin knew exactly what drove Dorne. It had been something that had brought his army to the gates of King's Landing once before. To feel slighted or disrespected was at times a powerful motivator. He had felt it when the Mad King had refused Cersei as Rhaegar's bride. When Aerys had then taken his son from him and given Jaime a white cloak. Tywin had wished for his House to rise and his blood to sit on the Iron Throne and yet he'd not truly marched all those years ago for that. Instead, he'd marched to pay Aerys back for all he'd forced him to endure.
Dorne had mayhap been even closer to seeing their blood on the Iron Throne than Tywin had back then. In Rhaenys they had picked who they wished to crown and no doubt Doran's plans did not end there. They may even have accepted Aegon as their king. Daemon, however, was not only someone they named not as their blood, but he was who they saw as shameful. No matter that Queen Elia had never done so. Or that Daemon had no intent to cast them down or see them slighted. To them, Daemon Targaryen was unacceptable and so they wished him dead. Which meant they wished Tywin's granddaughter and future great-grandchild dead too.
" Many years ago, it was plots by Dorne that saw my grandson leave this city," Rhaella said as she and Tywin shared a glass of wine.
" Plots?"
" Daemon overheard them planning his death when he was but a boy. I'd been sent to Dorne for some silly reason or other. For the life of me, I cannot remember it now. As was his father's wont, Rhaegar refused me leave to bring my grandson with me, not that I would have."
" They truly wished him dead?" Tywin asked, understanding a little why Rhaegar wouldn't have allowed his son to travel with his grandmother to Dorne. Yet not willing to speak such words here and now. Not when they'd not be welcomed by Rhaella Targaryen nor seen for what they were. Politics will always be trumped by family no matter how much you may wish it would not.
" Then and now I believe."
They had been among the last words that he and Rhaella had shared before Tywin handed his pin over to Princess Rhaenys. Yet even then, Tywin didn't truly believe it would be an army that Dorne would send to see Daemon in the ground. Had anyone asked him, he'd have named it as knives in the dark and the thought of such was laughable truly. Twice already people had tried to kill Daemon Targaryen. Once they'd even managed to succeed, for all the good it did them. Tywin may not have much faith in the gods but the little he'd seen of Daemon's in action, was more than enough not to wish to get on his bad side. As it was the man himself if he truly thought about it.
Still, he'd sent word to his Bannermen once he'd arrived back in the West. Tywin had asked for and had received a true accounting of not only the number or men that could be called upon but the makeup of those men. Outriders, infantry, pikemen, cavalry, both heavy and light, all in all, more than 40,000 could be raised within a moon. Almost twice that in three moons if it was needed. Though some of those would be far lesser than others.
Tywin had gone over the routes he'd march to King's Landing and where along those routes he'd be joined and by whom. He'd planned the march they were now on and done so long before there was any true need for that march. From Casterly Rock along the Goldroad and right to the gates of King's Landing itself. Half his men to join him at the Rock itself with the other half to meet him at Deep Den. His Bannermen had then not failed him and had come in the numbers they had promised. Something that Tywin had thanked them for.
"How long?" he asked as they set up their camp by the Rush itself.
"Less than a week, five days mayhap," Kevan replied.
"The Reach?" Tywin asked curious to see if Olenna had called her banners just as truly.
"Two armies march. One nears Tumbleton and the other the Stoney Sept. Mathis Rowan and Garlan Tyrell lead the one with Randyll Tarly the other."
"At least it's not Mace," he said, half-japing. Thankful though he was that the Oaf of Highgarden was at present in King's Landing itself.
"How large are their armies?"
"Combined they are larger than our own. Split, we'd have the edge on them." Kevan replied. His brother thought as he always did and though they were allies in the battle to come, it would always be as potential enemies that Kevan would look at another army first and foremost.
"Together that gives us what, 100,000 men?"
"Close enough to make no never mind, I wager," Kevan answered.
"The Vale, Riverlands, and the North are what, another 70,000, 80,000 mayhap," he said and Kevan nodded.
Adding them to Daemon's men, to the Crownlands, Lords of the Narrow Sea, and the Stormlords, their army would be close to 250,000 all told. Of that, Tywin would wager there would be nearly 80,000 mounted. Even if some of the army marched slower than his own did, they'd still outnumber any army that Dorne could call upon by two to one. That was without even adding in what Daemon and his dragon could bring to bear. Tywin would name them both as the equivalent of 30,000 men or mayhap more.
It made no sense to him. Truly it did not. The battle that Dorne was capable of fighting was not one that they could win. No matter what allies they had to call upon, they would not be enough to resist the entire might of Westeros that Daemon would set against them. They would not be able to fight off a dragon unless they had some plan or other that Tywin could think of not.
Was it simply hubris?
Had Doran and Oberyn Martell taken leave of their senses due to the slights they felt they'd suffered?
Or was there something else afoot? Some unknown ally or weapon that Tywin or Daemon himself was unaware of?
"Brother?" Kevan called out, taking Tywin from his thoughts.
"It's nothing." Tywin lied.
They ate together that night. Tywin had sent outriders to the two Reach armies to let them know that his own marched in aid of the king too. There had been a time when he'd have not done such a thing. A time when he'd have thought so little of the Reachmen that he'd have expected fewer than half to truly answer any call. Olenna was tied to the crown now, however. She and her family were like his own, right in the firing line. Daemon and Myrcella may very well be the main targets of Doran and Oberyn's ire, but Tywin was certain it would not be sated with their deaths. His House, Olenna's, and any that now stood in Doran's path to the throne would suffer Dorne's Wrath. Or they would if that wrath was allowed to be visited upon them unchecked.
It would not be.
Heading to his bed, Tywin did so with the feeling that Doran had something up his sleeve. He would prepare his men for such a thing on the morrow. Daemon would be more than ready for anything that Dorne threw at him, or so Tywin believed. As for Dorne, they would hear him roar before they'd hear no more. Closing his eyes, he found her there even before the dreams came to him. She looked as she had always looked and she wore the smile she had only ever truly shown to him, their children or grandchildren.
" I will see them safe, Joanna. Even if it costs me mine own life to see that is so, I will see them safe."
King's Landing 301 AC,
Daemon Targaryen.
Once he was certain that Summerhall was properly garrisoned, Daemon set about saying his goodbyes. He and his father had finally put aside all their differences. Daemon had named his marriage and impending fatherhood as the reason for some of it and this had been true. Yet it was the thoughts that he could have been late. That his father and the rest of his family may have fallen and that he too could fall in the battle to come, that had been the true reason he'd been able to finally move on.
With Elia, he had told her that he'd try and save some of her family. That those who fought against him and Doran who had given the order to do so, were already lost. They would not survive the battle to come and be it due to him and Lyanax, the man they'd allied with or his god, or Daemon's own, their fate had already been sealed. Those who fought not, the children, would be allowed to keep their lives if not their positions. Dorne would be a very different place once the battle was over. Ruled by very different people.
Aegon, he'd simply told to take comfort that Daemon believed the fighting here was done. That none would seek to attack them once he'd left and that both he and his daughter were safe. His brother hugged him tightly and told him that he was shamed he could not fight by his side, Daemon would not allow those words to stand. So he told him that he was happy he did not have to. He whispered in his brother's ear that he'd not have any of them fight if the choice was his to make and that it was better it fell to him to do so anyway.
" My god has gifted me the tools I need to win this fight, brother. Had he not, then I would wish not to fight it or not have the courage to do so. You look after my niece, Aegon. After our father and your mother. You look after yourself just as much. Leave the fighting to me, brother, and soon enough we'll both know naught but peace."
" I love you, brother. I….thank you for coming for me. For…."
" We are blood, Aegon. Blood never needs to thank blood for doing what it always should."
Daemon had spoken to the Stormlords and had bid them to see to his family's safety. He'd considered leaving Arthur there and only that he believed the fighting at Summerhall was truly done or not even the knight's wishes would have stopped him from doing so. Instead, Arthur joined him along with Thoros and Melisandre and they took flight to King's Landing. Each mile took him closer to his wife and family and though he'd seen that all were safe, it comforted him not as much as it should. Naught but seeing them in front of him and holding his wife in his arms would do so.
Though he wished to do the journey as quickly as possible, it was not one he'd fly through the night to see that was so. Dorne and its allies may not be close to arriving, but for Daemon and Lyanax to arrive tired and unable to fight, would serve them ill. So they camped up near Bronzegate and Daemon looked to the fires that night. To his dismay, he saw nothing other than his family being safe and sound and waiting for his return. There was no sign of the Dornish Army. Of the Tiger Cloaks or the Golden Company, either. None of Daario Naharis and Daemon knew then that the former sellsword truly was the last of the Great Other's champions.
"They are being blocked from us, my prince. The Great Other's true power is finally being brought to bear." Melisandre shuddered.
"R'hllor's, will too." Thoros looked to him, Arthur too looked his way.
"This is the true battle our god has been preparing for. Red Eyes, Blue, they were but skirmishes in truth. Battles were only the chosen truly fought. White Eyes, they will see gods themselves do battle." Daemon said.
"What does a god doing battle look like?" Arthur asked.
"I know not, Arthur. Nor even if it's a battle that we'll see or truly comprehend. What I do know for certain is that my god has been planning for this day for longer than any of us could truly imagine. That R'hllor has been making moves and putting pieces in place so that when this day came, none would be more ready than he."
"And what of you, my prince?" Melisandre asked, worry creasing her brow as she did so.
"From the moment I arrived as a scared boy in Volantis, I too have been preparing for this day. Each thing I've done since that day has been part of R'hllor's training to make me ready for this day. For this battle. Daario Naharis may well be the Great Other's champion, but R'hllor chose me to be his own. Our god chose well, Melisandre." Daemon smiled.
They caught up with the larger part of the Stormlands army the next day. Daemon warging and making sure their path through the Kingswood was one they would march through without hindrance. After giving them his orders, Lyanax took to the sky once more, and soon enough the city came into view. There was no army around it, none stationed in front of it and yet Daemon feared not that his army would not arrive. From the West, Reach, Vale, and North, the Riverlords and the Crownlords, all would answer the call that he already knew his grandmother had made. As for Dorne and its allies, they would arrive soon enough.
Lyanax landed in the Dragonpit and Daemon was surprised that his wife or grandmother weren't there to meet him. Instead, it was Unsullied and men of the Hundred. Ghost too he was happy to see. The white wolf licked his face almost the moment he'd finished saying his goodbyes to his dragon, Lyanax only took to the sky and flew off once Ghost did so. His dragon now leaving Daemon's protection in the paws of the white wolf it seemed.
"Ser Jared, my wife, grandmother?" he asked Bonifer's trusty second.
"Are with the rest of your family in the Red Keep, your grace. Under orders from your grandmother, I believe."
"What happened?" he asked, knowing now that something had.
Ser Jared's words made the ride to the Red Keep one that was done far more quickly than it may have been otherwise. An attack on his wife, even one that had been repelled, was more than enough to force that to be so. Daemon now wished to make certain that Myrcella had not been harmed in that attack. His fear that his visions of her would be proved untrue was one that only seeing her in the flesh would remove.
In this, he had his god's favor. Myrcella was waiting just inside the door when they arrived at the Red Keep. A Red Keep that was under lockdown and far more heavily guarded than it had been when Daemon had left for Essos.
"Cella," Daemon called out as he lifted his wife from the ground.
"Daemon, thank R'hllor."
"You are unhurt? Truly?" he asked worriedly. The kisses she shared with him and her words finally allowed him to calm himself and worry about her not.
The sight of his grandmother and sister soon had Daemon moving to them. Each of them offered and accepted the embrace he wished to share with them both. Viserys and Daenerys too were embraced just as warmly. Daemon was happy to see that his family was as safe as he hoped them to be and when he caught sight of Sansa, she too was treated to a warm embrace.
"Your battles in Essos are done with?" his grandmother asked as they walked.
"They are. As for the one soon to be here, we still have time."
Daemon walked arm and arm with his wife and listened as his grandmother told him that almost the entire realm now marched to join him in the battle to come. By the time they reached his chambers, Shiera too had joined them and as he had with the rest of his kin, Daemon embraced his aunt just as truly. Shiera whispered in his ear that she had found the Rhaenys' ruby and that Daemon now had all five that he needed to shut the White Eyes forevermore.
Once inside the room, he was now alone with his wife and though they had much to talk about, it was kisses and touches that they seemed to need more. Those kisses and touches soon led to where they would inevitably lead to and their coupling was both frenzied and not. Myrcella then helped him to dress as they spoke about what he'd done in Essos and what had happened here since he'd been gone.
"You are truly unhurt?" Daemon asked as his wife tied the laces of his shirt.
"I am. Ghost warned us. He and the Men of the Hundred, the Unsullied and Fiery Hand you left, they all played their parts. Sers Oswell and Barristan too, Daemon."
"Then I owe them all a debt I can never repay," he said as he moved to place a kiss on his wife's cheek. "You were unafraid?"
"My husband has a god's favor. I have my husband's own." Myrcella smiled.
"That you do." this time she kissed his cheek and Daemon's calm belied the fiery inferno that had been building within him.
They spoke not of war that night. Instead, they ate as a family, and other than telling them all that everyone they cared for was safe. Daemon not adding that he could only say so for now, it was most enjoyable. Their meal was a pleasant one filled with relief and happiness that he had returned and that nothing would be forcing him to leave again.
He and Myrcella made love for most of the night and only exhaustion and the need for some sleep stopped that from being for most of the early morning too. When they woke, they dressed and broke their fast and then and only then, did talk turn to the war to come. Daemon called for his family, for the Lannisters and Thoros, Melisandre, and Kinvara, for the Kingsguard, Ser Bonifer, and the commanders of the Hundred, to join him as he did so.
At first, he spoke of Summerhall and the battle that had occurred there. Then it was to the attacks on the other side of his blood. Bran, Arya, and Rickon had all been targeted because Oberyn and Doran had wished for hostages to bring him to his knees. Or so Daemon wagered was their intent. Soon talk turned to the Shadows and how they now each had one to guard their backs. Two to soon join with Daemon to guard his own, which at least stopped any talk of how their place was by his side to be uttered.
Lastly, it was the battle itself. How if they made it a week without it occurring, then when it did his army would not only be here but would be ready for the Dornish one. After that, it was to the city properly being locked down. How he would use the fires to ensure that those inside King's Landing were either their fighting men or the people they were sworn to protect.
"It's to be a siege then?" Ser Bonifer asked and Daemon shook his head.
"No, Ser, this will be a battle fought for true. From the sea, sky, and upon the land. We simply prepare the city as if it were not."
"The Ruby, Daemon, you've not added it to the others?" Shiera asked and Daemon shook his head.
"Now is not the time to do so, Aunt."
With that, it was done. Everyone knew their roles and only some would be on the front lines. Viserys and Jaime Lannister were both unhappy to find that they along with Bonifer and his men would not be. Daemon explained to both that he needed them with his family to ensure their safety. That even Arthur would stand by his queen's side and Barristan by his grandmother's. The Kingsguard would not fight in the battle to come. Or if they did, then it was a battle that was going poorly.
Over the next few days, Daemon looked to the flames and saw nothing. The armies arrived and he spoke to each of the commanders. Stannis Baratheon, Yohn Royce, his uncles Ned and Benjen, Garlan Tyrell, along with Mathis Rowan and Randyll Tarly, and finally his Goodgrandfather. Each of them was given their orders and then they simply needed to wait for the day to come. A day that drew ever closer and one that thankfully his own men had arrived before it did. Davos, Grey Worm, and the others were all then given their orders and when Davos came to him the night before they first spotted the Dornish Army, he did so with the offer of a retreat and sailing to safety for Daemon's family.
"I could take them where you wished, Daemon. Far from here to somewhere safe if you bid it of me."
"Would that there was such a place, Davos." Daemon sighed. Thoros looked at them both as did Melisandre. "If I fail here, then it'll be the same everywhere. Darkness will fall for true and the lives that people know from then will be naught but pain and suffering."
"They would be lives though would they not, Daemon." Davos pleaded and Daemon moved to place a hand on the old smuggler's shoulder.
"A life in the dark is not a life worth living. All of us have been lucky enough to walk in R'hllor's light. It is that which gives us that which we need the most. The love we feel. Our pride in those we name our kin. Whatever joy we know, we know it because R'hllor's light shines down upon us all. Even those who believe in him not, such as you, Davos." Daemon smiled to show that he meant the words not as a slight or condemnation.
"One more day, Daemon, two or three, are they not better than none at all? Do you not wish that for your wife, your family, and the babe you are to be a father to?"
"I do more than anything in this world, Davos. But that day has to be a day and not an endless night. It has to be one spent in the sun and not one without one. Here we make our stand and here we rise or fall. My god wills it of me. Demands it of me. And I have never refused my god anything he's bid of me. Nor will today be the day I do so."
"We walk in his light," Melisandre said. Her voice was firm and without any doubts.
"For the Night is Dark and Full of Terrors," Thoros added.
"I am his chosen and my god has chosen well," Daemon said determinedly.
On the morrow, R'hllor would either be proved very right or very wrong in that choice.