Morel
patreon
39. Aeron IX / Shiera XIV
🕑 Added 2024-10-13 15:44:00 +0000 UTCAlrighty then, an important chapter here. It was a blast to write so I hope it is a blast to read. Please let me know your thoughts in the comments!
Aeron IX
6th Moon, 33AC
“Wow… no wonder Grandmother surrendered,” Aeron heard Jasper say from his right and he could not blame him. He was not present to witness the carnage on the Little Rhoyne. The putrid smell of tens of thousands of burning bodies, the bone-chilling screams of thousands of dying men, and the terrifying roars of an enraged dragon.
He was new to Essos, relatively at least. Jasper and the Vale contingent arrived a few moons after the battle of Ghoyan Drohe. Ever since then, they had not participated in major battles. Instead, they had mostly been fighting bandit groups, the odd stray band of Dothraki, and the occasional Sellsword company hired on by Volantis or Braavos. Now they were in a real war, or at least, what ought to have been one.
The sight before Aeron revealed clearly the disparity in power between Braavos and Maegor. Braavos was a city nearly seven hundred thousand strong. They had more wealth than all but the emperors of Yiti. They had the most powerful navy in the world, as much as Aeron and his family hated to admit it. They were strong but it did not matter, not in the face of two dragons.
Much of Sellagorro’s Shield was on fire, the meticulous defenses Braavos erected had been swept away in a single pass from Terrax. They themselves camped on one of the formerly forested islands, but the rest of them burned with a fury. Aeron could see through his far eye that they had enough foresight to not make their fortifications out of wood, not that it helped them.
Dragons were truly the ultimate weapon. Aeron could see now just why the Valyrians of old conquered practically the entire world. For nothing could withstand the might of a dragon, let alone multiple. Wood burned to cinders under the searing flames of a Dragon, flesh cooked into ash in mere moments, and even stone was not safe. Smaller dragons like Terrax could not melt stone but larger dragons like Vhagar and Balerion could.
So the stone fortifications Braavos threw up in the nearly full year the Faceless Men managed to provide them were cast away in less than an hour. The brave souls who stationed the bunkers and lookouts were cooked under a storm of bronze and green flames. The empty stone forts were left smoking from the burning bodies within them.
Yet that show of force was hardly enough. The Braavosi had prepared much more than a myriad of fortifications on Sellagoro’s Shield. From what Aeron could tell, they had turned their lagoon into a genuine fortress.
They clogged the docks with dozens of hastily thrown-together ships and debris, denying the Pentoshi transports the ability to dock and unload men. Hundreds of buildings were transformed into what Aeron could only describe as small castles. Several canals were widened, and the streets alongside them were made nigh unnavigable from the rubble and trash strewn about. The Braavosi had even sent several suicide fire ships to their fleet stationed right outside of the Lagoon in an attempt to wipe them out. None had succeeded but the effort was shocking.
Perhaps a conventional army would have been deterred by their fortifications and preparations. News had quickly spread of the Braavosi extorting everything they could from their hinterlands in an attempt to prepare for a years-long siege. From the harrowed farmers they passed on their way here, it was made clear that the Braavosi took everything.
They took every single piece of grain, even what the locals would need to grow for the next harvest. All animals were taken too, along with anything that could even be made into a weapon. Pitchforks whittled down into spears. Plows taken to be smelted into armor and weapons. Even young men were plucked from the hinterlands to defend the city.
It went without saying that the locals practically cheered them on as they marched up the Braavosi coastline. Especially when Maegor promised them relief should they swear loyalty to him, which they did readily. The locals had been more than happy to inform them of planned Braavosi ambushes and their relatively kind treatment of them even inspired a few defections from the small parties of skirmishers Braavosi sent to slow their advance.
So what they expected to take moons of slogging through Braavosi raids had instead been more of a normal march for them. Not unlike the times they would march to and from Norvos, just without the much loved Valyrian roads, as none had been made to connect to Braavos.
The Pentoshi navy made it even easier. They could afford to travel lighter and move faster because the Braavosi never truly sallied forth to face the Pentoshi navy. Apparently, they had achieved a small, albeit inconclusive naval battle near the start of the war but ever since Queen Visenya deployed, the Braavosi had been too scared to fight.
‘Probably smart,’ Aeron thought, he recalled how easily Maegor was able to cast aside the pirate vessels in the Stepstones. Not to mention the stories he was told of the conquest. Queen Visenya shattered the Vale fleet in mere moments with her Vhagar, the same fleet that crushed his grandfather’s. The Braavosi were certainly better sailors than pirates and the Graftons but Aeron doubted they would fare much better against a dragon.
Such was the predicament they found themselves in when they finally reached the Braavosi Lagoon. Or at least, it would have been a predicament for him and the army had Maegor and Queen Visenya not been with them.
Now it was merely a question if Maegor and Queen Visenya could intimidate the defenders into surrender. Which their current actions were simply the start of. First came Sellagoro’s Shield, Queen Visenya burnt the soldier pines that used to cover the islands in her night attack, and now they would burn again. ‘A quick show of force,’ Aeron thought. Sweeping away the fortifications the Braavosi spent nearly a year preparing in mere moments was a good way to start the pressure.
The next immediate target was the Titan. The symbol of Braavos, its most notable feature, and a staple in the everyday life of the city. Queen Visenya’s first pass bathed the structure in fire and killed its defenders but Queen Visenya and Maegor would not be so forgiving this time.
Aeron could see from his far eye the pathetic last stand of its defenders. A handful of arrows and scorpion bolts flew out of the numerous portholes before a sea of fire was dropped onto the Titan. Vhagar’s flames filled the structure and Aeron noticed the metal and stone statue begin to bend and sag. The metal continued to warp under the combined assault of green and bronze flames before a sickening groan resounded across the Lagoon.
In almost a cry of agony, the Titan’s metal and stone body began to bend. Pulled in the direction of its torch, which had long since melted into more of a gooey mess, the Titan groaned as it fell, the metal clearly not meant to bend that way.
Before long, the indomitable Titan of Braavos, the key strategic defense point of the city, unconquerable via conventional means, heaved a great sigh as it tipped forward. The metal and stone body of Braavos’s once-great titan pitched forward into the waves below. Aeron was worried the collapsed Titan might have blocked the entrance into the Lagoon but it seemed they had nothing to worry about. As the Titan fell forward, into the Narrow Sea outside of the city.
A series of cheers resounded across the camp once the Titan fell. The waters from the splash rose so high that they could see the spray from their position almost a mile away. The camp had long since grown knowledgeable of Braavosi arrogance. They had the gall to threaten them when they first arrived.
The moment the Black Company arrived and Vhagar and Terrax flew around the city a few times, a delegation from Braavos had arrived under the flag of a truce, wishing to meet before the siege began.
They were hilariously arrogant, proclaiming the strength of their defenses and their even stronger resolve. They told Maegor and the rest of the leadership that he would either have to burn the city down or leave because they would not surrender.
Maegor responded to such a taunt by sending them back and destroying all of their fortifications on Sellagoro’s Shield. Oh, how Aeron wished he could see the face of that arrogant diplomat now that the Braavosi Titan was sinking beneath the waves.
“They’re coming back!” some of the soldiers began to say and cheers continued to fill the camp as Vhagar and Terrax landed and their riders dismounted. Maegor waved them all over to the command tent to talk and Aeron rushed over to the tent.
‘I have to be better,’ Aeron thought. His new perspective made him even more self-conscious. He could still feel the jealousy within him but now it was accompanied by shame. He had been so ungrateful so far, and he had to make it right.
The tent was quickly filled with all the commanders and lieutenants of the campaign, Sellswords, Black Company, and Pentoshi alike. All clamoring to get Maegor’s attention with thanks and congratulations.
“Silence,” a single word from Maegor was all it took to calm the crowd.
“With that little show of force, let us see how confident they remain in their fortress city,” Maegor said with a small smile, and a chorus of ayes rolled throughout the tent. Everyone was excited to share in the spoils of victory.
“What shall we do now, my prince? Shall we prepare an attack?” Lord Galladon said from behind Aeron and everyone in the room held their breaths. The sun was already quite low, and the prospect of not only challenging Braavosi defenses without a dragon but with fading sunlight too was not desired.
“No, get some rest. Send some ships out to yell all night, however, and post double guards in case of a night attack. Let the people know that should they surrender, I will spare their city,” Maegor waved away their concerns with ease before Aeron noticed he appeared restless.
‘It must be about his wife,’ Aeron thought with as much sympathy as he could muster. It was no secret that Shiera was pregnant. Maegor was moving the campaign along at a breakneck pace, presumably so he could bring her back to Pentos.
“Do you have any plans for tomorrow, my prince?” This time it was Magister Thorello who spoke. He had gotten much more friendly after the death of the Faceless Men. Perhaps because he could see the writing on the wall but Aeron assumed he was all but dead already. He had yet to get Maegor into a private conversation to get clued into all of his friend’s plans but from what he could tell. A purge was soon to come, and none of Maegor’s enemies would be spared.
“If they wish to fight further, I shall descend on the southwestern island, and raze it to the ground. Prove to the fools that if they do not surrender, I will kill them,” Maegor said with a fire and fury that was alien to Aeron.
His friend held a tangible distaste for the Braavosi now. Aeron knew it was from his attempted assassination but wanton brutality was certainly not Maegor’s go-to. ‘Is it the circumstances? The fact his wife is soon to give birth? Or rage over his attempted assassination? Or all of that and more?’ Aeron wondered.
“And if they do not surrender even then?” Queen Visenya asked.
“Then we will use the cleared-out island as a staging ground. Move the professional soldiers to the island and clear the city out, building by building, until the Braavosi are all either dead or realize their situation,” Maegor said with disinterest, he was clearly anxious by the rapid tapping of his right boot.
“So rest up, for Braavos will choose between life or death tomorrow,” Maegor dismissed the commanders and lieutenants and they all filtered out with due haste.
As Aeron exited the tent, he could not help but feel bad. He had been trying to find a good time to talk with his friend the last two moons but no easy chance arrived.
‘How the hell do I bring this up?’ Aeron bemoaned in his mind. How on earth should he broach the subject? It was all he could think about as he retired for the night.
…
“Fools,” Aeron said to the open air as he watched the burning mass of buildings. The Braavosi did not surrender by morning, and now an entire island packed to the brim with houses, apartments, shops, and people was burning.
Maegor departed three hours after sunrise. First striking the piers and docks. The structures were clogged with ships broken and functional, which made excellent kindling for Terrax’s green flames.
The piers and docks were soon engulfed with an inferno of vibrant green flames. The fire on the ships spread so fast to the main island that Aeron wondered if the houses first caught fire from Terrax’s direct flames or if the flames spread from the quickly sinking boats.
The houses were next to burn. The Braavosi had seen fit to construct most of their houses out of stone. Which was generally smart and would have normally saved them from most fires, but Terrax spewed no normal flames, the green dragon fire quickly burned through the brick roofs and before long, the huge stone buildings of Braavos shared the same fate as Harrenhal.
Stone did not typically burn or melt. Only true beasts like Balerion and perhaps Vhagar could achieve the true melting of stone, but Maegor did not need to. The houses were filled with furniture, tapestries, carpets, rugs, furs, firewood, food, and people. All of which turned to kindling as the green flames jumped from house to house, from apartment to apartment.
Soon enough the island’s defenses were silenced. The few scorpions placed on the roofs were bathed in green flames and destroyed before their bolts could bounce off Terrax’s body. The archers fared little better, what with their positions within the hollowed-out buildings quickly catching fire.
So the southwesternmost island of Braavos had become an inferno, like one enormous green bonfire. ‘How many people lived there?’ Aeron could not help but wonder as the flames continued to consume the mass of stone and wood that was once hundreds of apartments and houses.
“Perhaps they will surrender now,” Jasper said, fury and disappointment in his tone. Aeron hoped his opinion reflected the rest of the army. The Braavosi were certainly hated by the Black Company for almost killing Maegor and his family and by the Pentoshi for a myriad of reasons, but the foolish defiance of the Braavosi impressed nobody.
Aeron had already heard around the camp numerous times. “They ought to just surrender, save their lives and our time,” by at least two dozen different mouths. Pentoshi and Westerosi alike, from both commanders and common soldiers. It was a common sentiment, and Aeron hoped the Braavosi would develop a similar one. For this current ‘battle’ was naught but a waste of precious time and life.
The rancid smell of burning flesh and wood soon filled the air as enormous plumes of black smoke rose from the still-raging inferno. This was the power of a dragon, the Braavosi had turned every square inch of their city into a veritable fortress, better than every Westerosi fortress besides perhaps Casterly Rock. Yet it meant nothing in the face of a dragon’s might.
Maegor landed his dragon after ensuring the whole island was alight. He remained atop his dragon for the rest of the day, however, as did Queen Visenya. They both sat their dragons where the Titan once stood, in full view of the city. The message was clear, and Braavos finally saw reason.
The Pentoshi sailors circling the island had seen fighting inside of the city. A mutiny as they would come to learn. Before long, a small ship departed one of the last open docks of Braavos. On it were perhaps a dozen people waving a white flag.
Maegor leaped at the chance, especially with the head of the Sealord delivered to him. He quickly organized a meeting to discuss the final terms of surrender, and luckily for Aeron. He got to sit in on the negotiations.
“We would like to negotiate our surrender,” what must have been the self-appointed leader said. He did not look particularly wealthy, what with his wearing a drab brown and grey coat. Perhaps the one notable thing about the brown-haired man seated in front of Maegor was the key dangling around his neck.
“Unconditional, lay down your arms and open your city,” Maegor said instantly, and a look of horror appeared quickly on the man’s face.
“My prince…” the young man offered, looking deathly pale.
“The time of negotiations has passed. Surrender or die, those are my terms,” Maegor offered the same hardline position he held since the start of the war. He would not give Braavos any leeway, just as the Pentoshi wanted it.
“My prince, we wish to surrender, but we want assurances…” the man paled further, terrified of Maegor. Not that Aeron could necessarily blame him. Maegor was already a full foot taller than the poor soul and in his armor, he looked closer to a demon than to a man.
“Assurances?! You want assurances after you tried to assassinate me and my family?!” Maegor played up the rage and Aeron was confused. ‘Was this person somehow responsible?’ Aeron wondered as he looked at the spindly man before them.
“Y-yes… Braavos will not surrender if you do not provide agreeable terms,” the man put on a brave face, even if a blind man could notice his quiver and the chattering of his teeth.
It was then that Queen Visenya leaned in and whispered into Maegor’s ear. It was not much, perhaps only a few words, but Maegor’s mind must have been changed as his tone quickly shifted from rage to denigrating.
“Fine… these are my terms. If you want peace, you will agree to all of these. Are you empowered to sign a peace treaty?” Maegor quickly asked as one of their aids produced a paper and quill.
“Y-y-yes… my prince, The conclave of Braavos and my fellow Keyholders have empowered me to negotiate on the city’s behalf,”
“Excellent, then agree to all of these terms, and sign this here treaty and we will have peace,” Maegor said as he turned over the pre-prepared peace document. He had been apparently working on it while cooped up in Pentos and Aeron could not fault the supposed ‘keyholder’ for balking at the terms.
“You will lay down your arms, open the Iron Bank’s vaults, tear down your fortifications, and allow my soldiers into the city. In return, I promise that no sack shall occur. Your people will be spared from further war unless you choose to wage it,” Maegor said as the man continued to balk at the terms for the peace.
Aeron tried his best to remember all that was in there but there was so much it was hard to do so. Off the top of his head, he could remember a few key things. First was the near-complete disarmament of Braavos. They would be permitted a war fleet of ten ships for the purpose of defending the city from pirates but that was all. Any further construction for any reason not approved by the Prince of Pentos was to be met with war.
Second was the land transfers. Maegor had already presented the map to a very pleased Pentoshi Conclave and it was harsh. Braavos’s mainland territory was only a few miles around the Braavosi Lagoon. The rest of the territory would be placed under the management of Pentos.
Braavos was also to disband their Iron Bank if Aeron’s memory served him correctly. The vault would be looted, along with the Braavosi treasury, and they were not permitted to have another bank. They were to depend entirely on Pentos for monetary purposes.
This was merely a facet of a larger term in the treaty, Braavos was to submit to Pentos. It would receive a similar deal that Norvos had gotten, albeit worded much more harshly. The city would retain self-rule for now, but foreign affairs would be dictated from Pentos.
There were other, smaller parts of the treaty that Aeron barely remembered. He was pretty sure that there was something about reduced trading vessels, fishing rights, and the Arsenal, along with reparations but Aeron had not been in the conclave for the planning, and he had not really gotten the chance to properly ask Maegor for the details either, so he was in the dark.
‘Damn it,’ Aeron thought, feeling the shame and jealousy rise up again. Had he lost his chance? Had he let the chance to be Maegor’s right-hand slip between his fingers out of his selfish desire for greatness all his own?
Maegor did not ask his opinion much anymore. Instead, he relied on the counsel of his mother, his wife, and the magisters within Pentos. All the while he let his lead fade away, the advantage he had, being a friend with Maegor for years, was now slipping away. ‘Tonight,’ Aeron thought. He would speak with Maegor that night. Even if he stumbled and blundered his way through the conversation, he would do it all the same.
“...Very well, do I have your word?” the grey-robed man said after a long pause to read the document.
“You do, your city will not descend into a sack or a bloodbath should you all surrender, I swear it on my honor,” Maegor swore readily and the rest of the day passed in a blur.
The soldiers quickly crammed onto boats and were welcomed into the city with questioning glares but none were foolish enough to attack. Not after Maegor’s display of resolve. So the Iron Bank was looted, and tens of thousands of pounds of gold, silver, bronze, and even a little Valyrian Steel were loaded onto ships and taken out of the city. Along with hundreds of priceless artifacts taken from the Braavosi as the first “reparations payment.”
But Aeron did not marvel at the riches plundered from Braavos. No, he focused on just what he would say to his friend. The march back would be slow, as Maegor was sure to be afforded another triumph for his achievement and so he would march with the army. But Aeron needed to stop dithering, lest his chance at greatness be lost forever.
…
“So Aeron, you wished to speak to me?” Maegor said and Aeron could not help but shift in his seat a little.
“Yes, I apologize for wishing to talk this late,” Aeron said quickly. He could not help but feel shame, shame for both troubling his friend and for his previous actions and thoughts.
“Why are you apologizing? I wanted to speak with you anyway,” Maegor said while pushing papers away from his desk. From the brief glance Aeron got it looked like reports from the quartermaster.
“You wanted to speak with me?” Aeron asked a little confused, a little hopeful that perhaps Maegor would lead the conversation where it needed to go anyway.
“Right, I wanted your opinion because my mother has shown shockingly little care on this subject. I promised the men a sack of Braavos, and a portion of all its riches but I kind of broke that promise. I will need to spread some of my newfound wealth around as an apology but I do not know how much, do you have any ideas?” Maegor descended into one of his old blisteringly quick questions. Ones that he used to have to strain his ears to keep up with. Thankfully, it had long since become second nature to him.
“Oh uhm…” Aeron said, his mind rapidly trying to come up with a response.
“If you cannot, that is fine, I will just have to ask Rego when we return to the city,” Maegor began to wave it away but Aeron stopped him.
“No, it is fine. Uhm, the men like to gamble and their signing bonus was three gold dragons I believe, I think double that in value should be appropriate. More for commanders of course but I am certain they will be easier to please with other means than gold,” Aeron quickly said. He could not let himself become useless.
“Hmm, you make a fine point. Double their signing bonus would be perhaps not as good as the glory and wealth they could plunder in a proper sack but I already pay them every other moon. So what the hell, it’ll do,” Maegor said with a wave of his hand. So easily moving on from an issue. ‘How does he do it?’ Aeron thought.
“So, you wished to speak with me, yes?” Maegor said expectantly.
“Uhh…yes,” Aeron stumbled immediately. He had been racking his mind for a while now and had yet to come up with a decent way to start this naturally.
‘Unnaturally it is then,’ Aeron thought with resolve before he began talking again.
“Is there any way I could be admitted into the Conclave? With the war over I would like to begin helping you in politics,” Aeron offered, it was a flimsy excuse, but hopefully, he could begin to enter the political stage and actually be more than Maegor’s commander of the army.
“Huh? Oh… of course! I can arrange that very easily. I did not know you were interested. When I offered it to you before you seemed kind of put off so I figured you did not care,” Maegor said, moving back into the casual, lighthearted tone that Aeron remembered from their childhood.
“Yeah, I uhh… I want your advice on something else,” Aeron said while scratching his cheek. It was embarrassing to ask his friend for help on this but he was even more embarrassed to ask his father.
“Go for it,” Maegor said with a smile.
“I uhh… I think I ought to get married,” Aeron said with a little bit of a stammer. He had been so focused on the army and war that he had not really considered who would be a good fit. He had done essentially zero deliberate politicking and had done even less courtship.
Maegor burst into laughter before beginning. “This is what you are so concerned about? Be reasonable now Aeron this was no reason to act all meek the last few moons,” Maegor said with a wide smile and Aeron felt his blood run cold.
‘He noticed that…’ Aeron thought with terror. Had he subconsciously been more formal or something?
“I am sorry for that,” Aeron groaned and Maegor looked at him thoroughly confused.
“Huh? Why are you apologizing? You didn’t do anything wrong. You were just acting weird. I feared my mother got to you actually,” Maegor said with a smile but Aeron did not possess his own.
“No, you are mistaken. I have been acting wrong. I have failed in my duty as a Velaryon serving House Targaryen,” Aeron said, finally admitting publicly what had been clouding his mind for years on end.
“What?” Maegor asked, an eyebrow raised and a confused look plastered on his face.
“The last few years, I have felt jealous of you, jealous of your success, and it has clouded my judgment. I should have entered Pentoshi politics sooner, I should have married sooner, and you should not have had to turn to others for advice because of my inability, I apologize,” Aeron said with a light bow, only to be met with a bewildering response.
“Woah woah woah, hold on what the hell!?” Maegor said and Aeron awaited the chastisement. He had forgotten the innumerable lectures his father gave him and his own jealousy had clouded his judgment, he deserved whatever chastisement Maegor had for him.
“You feel bad because you were jealous, what the hell? Why didn’t you say anything?” Maegor looked appalled and Aeron could only blink dumbly at his friend.
“What was I to say?” Aeron offered quickly, growing more embarrassed by the second.
“Oh, I don’t know. How about ‘Hey Maegor I am a little worried about what is going on and I would like to perhaps get some more chances at honor and glory’ Come on Aeron. We’re friends for fucks sake,” Maegor said with a disappointed look on his face, disappointment mixed with amusement.
Before Aeron could even respond, Maegor continued. “Also, you should have entered politics sooner, gotten married sooner, and I should not have had to turn to others for advice? What the hell has gotten into you?” Maegor seemed to finally digest all the words Aeron offered in his apology.
“Aeron, you are my friend and essentially the captain of my army. There is no need for you to enter politics and when I prompted you, you showed little interest so I dropped the subject. And getting married sooner? Aeron I was not going to force you to get married if you did not want to. Trust me, I have no right to do that,” Maegor said with a little smile appearing on his face, perhaps at the perceived absurdity of the situation.
“There is a need, I am a Velaryon, Maegor. My family comes with pride and responsibility. You have two sons in need of brides and potentially a third on the way. Obviously my sister’s children are the ideal candidates but I know well that you wanted me to marry to provide potential brides for your sons,” Aeron continued before Maegor raised both of his hands.
“Hold on now, wait. That may have been a factor but I wanted you to marry for your own sake, Aeron. Respectfully, your dedication to the army is appreciated but there is more to life than just military service, even if Ser Gawen disagrees,” Maegor began and cut Aeron off before he could continue.
“Now, I have gotten wildly off the path here. You are apologizing to me because you were jealous?” Maegor asked, almost dumbfounded.
“Yes, it has caused me to act shamefully, leading me astray from my goals,” Aeron said, resolve in his tone.
“...Alright… but did you really think I would hold your jealousy against you? Do you think I have never felt jealousy? Because you are wrong, there is always a bigger fish Aeron. I will not fault you for feeling jealous. It is not like you betrayed me in any way,” Maegor said with a continued look of bewilderment.
“I-” Aeron began before Maegor cut him off.
“Nope! Not a word. There has clearly been a colossal failure in communication here. You are right on one thing, however. Perhaps getting married and stepping a little bit away from the army will do you some good. With peace on the way it is high time I rekindle old friendships. It has been far too long since me, you, Jasper, and some others have just talked and played some cards or dice,” Maegor said with a blank expression.
“Now then, stop apologizing, you did nothing wrong. Once we return to Pentos and the opposition is wiped out. You will share in the spoils, I will help you find a suitable match, and you can stop worrying so damn much. If you have concerns, if you want more honor, if you want more gold, if you want more recognition. Just ask! For fucks sake Aeron I have a dozen singers and bards being paid by me right now,” Maegor said with resolute determination and Aeron was kind of dumbfounded.
He supposed that his friend had always been good at this. ‘I should have talked with him sooner,’ Aeron thought then. He had been letting his opinions and troubles fester for too long when he should have known how his best friend would act.
That would not stop Aeron from redoubling his efforts, however. His path to greatness lay with Maegor still. He was still positioned well to be his right hand, all he had to do was play his cards right.
_______________________________________________________________
Shiera XIV
7th Moon, 33AC
“Aunt Shiera!” she heard from the door and she almost dropped her book in response.
“Wah! Princess Rhaena!” Shiera responded with a light yell. She had not exactly been expecting the sudden intrusion and she was spooked so bad she had to catch her breath.
Princess Rhaena looked a little put out at first before she seemed to right herself and begin speaking again. “Grandfather is doing boring King stuff and so is Father. Mother just wants to paint and Aegon is playing with swords. Do you have anything interesting to do?” the ten-year-old princess said as she ran up and gave Shiera some serious purple puppy eyes.
“Are you done with your lessons for the day?” Shiera asked first. This would not be the first time Princess Rhaena tried skirting her lessons. It would not even be the first time she tried using Shiera as a sacrificial animal either.
“Yes! My lessons with the boring Septa and the Maester are done and I am bored!” Princess Rhaena said with a proud look and Shiera could not help but give a questioning gaze at her. Well not specifically at Princess Rhaena but at what she said.
‘Septa…’ Shiera thought, recalling her own boring lessons with the Septa she oh so hated back in Harrenhal. Truthfully, she was somewhat surprised that Princess Rhaena had one at all. She did of course know King Aegon’s desire for peace with the Faith. But even the fools of court whispered about the differences in their beliefs.
Little progress had been made on the question of incest. The Faith still preached it as a sin, and House Targaryen still had little desire to do away with it. It was an open secret among the more Valyrian members of the court that Princess Rhaena and Prince Aegon were all but betrothed. The official announcement had yet to arrive, however.
Shiera could not help but be a little confused by the plan. Surely it would be best to announce their betrothal early. Ease the court into it while King Aegon remained able and hale. An accord could even perhaps be reached with the Faith, especially if King Aegon was the one negotiating the deal. No fool, however pious, would dare challenge King Aegon atop Balerion.
Shiera was glad she did not have that problem. The more time she spent on Dragonstone, the more likely the prospect of her children marrying their cousins became. Despite her own wishes for her sons to marry their sisters, the political necessities came first. Marriages among cousins were accepted in the faith, not that Shiera cared all that much. She did not follow the Faith and neither did her family and in Pentos at least, the Faith held no sway over them.
Thinking of Pentos brought sadness Shiera had been repressing back to the surface. She had deliberately been distracting herself ever since she arrived on the island. Spending time with her niece and nephews, combing the library of Dragonstone for anything she may have missed in her relatively short study there, doing her best to make a good impression on the court, and she even went so far as to visit Dreamfyre with princess Rhaena. But now that her pregnancy was nearing its end, any day now according to the maesters, she could deny it no longer.
She missed her husband, her goodmother, and the life she had in Pentos. Her time spent on Dragonstone had allowed her to reflect, and she could see her faults. Where and when she had gone wrong, where she made her husband worry, and where she pushed it too far. She was excited more than ever to return there now. Excited to get a fresh start within the city and begin raising her children properly.
‘But first comes you,’ Shiera thought with a little rub to her very swollen belly. She was almost past due depending on which calculations you did and it was abundantly clear now that Shiera would not return to Pentos before she gave birth.
That had always been her dream. For her husband and goodmother to quickly dispose of the Faceless Cowards and for her to return back to Pentos before she was due to give birth. But it was not to be. The Faceless Men had indeed been exterminated, but it took practically her entire pregnancy to do so. It was not so bad, sure she was fearful of birthing her third babe alone, but she slept much more soundly after Queen Visenya told her Maegor killed the last Faceless Man.
‘Another legacy for you to inherit,’ Shiera thought with a small smile and another pat to her stomach. Her children would be the inheritors of Maegor’s still-growing legend. His war with the Faceless Men had propelled him from a legendary warrior to a nigh-mythical figure. He was spoken of as unstoppable now, and how could they not speak of him that way, especially after he killed two Faceless Men?
Her children were sure to inherit a colossal legacy. Both in a tangible inheritance, due to Maegor's ceaseless efforts at enriching himself, and in a more spiritual sense. Her children were to be the heirs and spares of Prince Maegor Targaryen. The youngest knight in a generation, the greatest warrior in a generation, the war hero, the slayer of Dothraki, the conqueror.
‘I wonder what lands you will inherit,’ Shiera thought with a smile. Normally she had some idea, a hunch, or a feeling about what her child would be. She figured she would have a son first, she had felt it in her bones. For Baelon, she had wished for a daughter but deep down, she knew it was a son, but this time, for the first time, she had no idea.
Would she birth another prince? Another prince to inherit a castle or city deep within Essos or Westeros? Or would she finally be blessed with the daughter she craved? A daughter to marry her eldest son. As was proper and good. She knew logically and ideally, Daeron would marry a cousin of his, but with Alyssa notably not pregnant and currently only have a single daughter seven years Daeron’s elder and already betrothed, a sister was looking more and more important.
“Aunt Shiera?” she heard Princess Rhaena say and Shiera jumped again.
“I apologize, Princess, I got lost in my thoughts,” Shiera quickly tried to reassure the worried look on Princess Rhaena’s face.
“What were you thinking about?” Princess Rhaena asked as she knelt down and picked up the now-dropped book. She took one glance at Lord Daemion’s treatise on magic and placed it back down on the table. Shiera had been looking back at some of her older texts looking for hidden messages and clues she could not see before. So far she had found nothing of note, however.
“Oh uhm,” Shiera said, trying to come up with something easy to say. She had thought about it quite a lot.
“Was it about your baby?” Princess Rhaena asked, turning her eyes down to look at the bump on Shiera’s belly.
“Yes… yes, it was,” Shiera decided. It was not an incorrect statement after all.
“Isn’t she supposed to be born soon?” Princess Rhaena asked while leaning close to her stomach.
“She?” Shiera asked with a smile. ‘Does this Princess know more than me?’ Shiera thought with an even wider smile.
Princess Rhaena had made a deliberate effort to befriend her, whether or not it was prompted by her father or grandfather the ten-name-day old girl would not say, but it was welcome all the same. Not only was Princess Rhaena Targaryen a joy to be around, but it also made a certain seahorse livid.
Said Seahorse was remarkably more subdued ever since their wonderful nightly chat. It had been so long since she got to trade barbs with someone. She used to do so playfully with Maegor, but ever since the whole Tyanna debacle she had tried to avoid that. Yet perhaps that was her overreacting again.
She could only really see what Maegor was saying once she left Pentos, his words before she left made more sense now. After she spent some time with her mother, and with her friends on the island away from all the politics and work of Essos. It was shocking how much she had changed.
It was to the point that her mother barely recognized her. Appearance wise she was still the relatively thin, white-haired girl her mother had birthed three and twenty years ago but her mother questioned her for hours about what had happened in Shiera’s life.
That talk was enlightening, she could see her rights and wrongs more clearly after that talk and now she had something resembling a plan. She would not make the same foolish mistake that she had with Tyanna. Yet she would also not lose herself, which she could now see that she was doing. She was Shiera Qoherys, and she could not wait to reunite with her husband again.
“... so boring and it is horrible!” Shiera heard and suddenly a pit opened in her stomach. ‘Oh gods, I got lost in my thoughts again!’ Shiera thought before she hesitantly stopped the rambling princess before her.
“I am sorry, Princess Rhaena. But could you repeat that again? I got lost in my thoughts,” Shiera said apologetically and was met with a ferocious pout.
“You keep doing that! Are you sure you aren’t just ignoring me?” Princess Rhaena said with an accusatory glare thrown into her adorable pout.
“I apologize, Princess Rhaena, but I have a lot on my mind,” Shiera did her best to assuage the little girl in front of her. She heard that the Princess was once timid and quiet but ever since she claimed a dragon she had gotten more outgoing and talkative.
“As I was saying! It has to be a girl. There are too many boys as is. I need another girl around to play with,” Princess Rhaena said with a huff and Shiera offered her a bemused smile.
“Can you not play with your brothers and cousins?” Shiera asked, this was the first she had heard of Princess Rhaena’s plight.
“No! Well… I can play with Viserys and cousin Daeron and Baelon but Aegon gets to go play with swords while Mother makes me embroider and knit. I want a girl cousin I can be friends with and talk to,” Princess Rhaena continued and Shiera hated to rain on the girl’s parade.
“I am sorry I have to be the one to tell you this, Princess Rhaena. But the babe in my womb will not be talking for a year at least, let alone holding conversations,” Shiera said apologetically. She could not quite understand Princess Rhaena’s plight but she could sympathize at the very least.
“Wha… b-b-but…” Princess Rhaena looked positively subdued at the realization.
“But it's so boring, and it is horrible being the only princess,” Princess Rhaena said with another fierce pout and Shiera could sit back and watch no longer.
“I’ll tell you what. My babe might not be able to speak but she can listen,” Shiera offered and Princess Rhaena seemed to perk up a little at that.
“Really?” Princess Rhaena asked.
“Yes really, she can hear you right now,” Shiera said while lightly poking at her belly. Trying to get the babe inside to react. When she felt a kick, she quickly moved Princess Rhaena’s hand to her stomach.
“Here, she is awake, tell her whatever you want,” Shiera said with a smile, and Princess Rhaena beamed one back before descending into a quiet, whisper of a rant about something or other.
Shiera hoped she would have her own little Visenya. She hoped that Rhaena’s hopes for another princess on the island would be answered by her womb. For her growing family to finally be blessed with a daughter. But she supposed she would just have to wait and see.
…
Shiera awoke in a dull agony. Her whole body felt like it was in rebellion. The bed she was in was too warm, there was a horrible agony between her legs, and she was positively covered in sweat from head to toe. Her nightgown stuck to her body unpleasantly and her hair was matted and wet with sweat.
“Wha?” Shiera said dully, sitting up in the bed before the realization struck her like a mace to the head.
“Where is my baby!?” Shiera said quickly, trying and failing to throw the heavy covers off of her before the midwives rushed over and stopped her.
“She is fine, my lady. You fainted after the birth. We have been taking care of her since,” the lead midwife said and Shiera’s mind stopped dead.
“She…?” Shiera asked, hope in her voice.
“Indeed, my lady. It is a wonderful little princess,” one of the younger midwives said, producing a little bundle of red cloth which was gingerly handed off to her.
Shiera hesitantly pulled the child into her arms. She moved the little bundle of Targaryen into view to see her long-awaited daughter, her perfect little Princess.
“Visenya,” Shiera breathed. Her eyes filled with tears as she had finally done it. Nine moons of aches and pains, a full day of labors, and the ire and unwanted interest of court. All of it was trivial now, as she had her Visenya.
“My lady, His Grace, and the Crown Prince would like to know if you are ready for visitors,” a different midwife asked her and she nodded without even looking, or even hearing what the midwife said. Her entire attention was focused on the daughter in her arms.
‘Visenya,’ Shiera thought, tears now streaming down her cheeks. How long had she dreamed of this day? To hold her daughter in her arms, the daughter she wanted, no, needed. She wasn’t a failure, she could do her duty, it was not all for nothing.
Soon enough her peripheral vision was filled with many more bodies and her ears were filled with questions she was not listening to. For she could not take her eyes off her daughter. The babe was sleeping but she knew her eyes were the same deep purple as her husband and goodmother. All her children had the same, dark purple eyes. Then there were the smallest silver tufts of hair sitting on top of her head too.
“Shiera?” she finally heard King Aegon say over all the noise and she raised her head. Wiping away the tears to look at the crowd gathered before her.
The midwives had largely cleared themselves from the room. Being replaced by King Aegon, Prince Aenys, Lady Alyssa, Princess Rhaena, Prince Aegon, and six of the seven Kingsguard. Shiera gave them all a tired smile, even Lady Alyssa, for she was too happy to be hateful to anyone in the world, besides perhaps a Faceless Man.
“Do I have a grandson or a granddaughter?” King Aegon asked, leaning over the bed to get a better look at her little Visenya.
“You have a granddaughter… Your Grace,” Shiera tiredly said. The excitement was quickly wearing off and the tiredness and pain returned to her body and mind.
Shiera used what little strength she had left to hand her daughter to King Aegon. She could feel the tiredness she had shirked off approaching readily and she knew her goodfamily no doubt wished to meet their newest member.
“I presume you already have the name picked out,” King Aegon said with a small smile, one which Shiera returned.
She did not care if he took offense to it, or even if he liked it. She could care less what anyone thought of her daughter’s name. Because she had long since decided it with her husband. The first daughter they had would be named in honor of the most deserving person in the world.
“Her name is Visenya,” Shiera breathed, the wide smile still plastered on her face. Her triumph, her victory over her doubt and fears lay before her.
“Excellent work, Shiera. I am certain my brother is proud of you,” Prince Aenys said after that a wide smile landing on his face, not dissimilar to her own. He took her darling Visenya from the arms of King Aegon and lightly swayed the babe in his arms.
‘I am sure he is too,’ Shiera thought. She had to choose her words carefully in her current state. She was so tired she thought each blink might send her back into the abyss of sleep, but the excitement barely kept her awake, and while she was awake, she would enjoy the moment.
“Might I hold her?” Lady Alyssa said after that and all eyes suddenly turned onto her. Even the small heads of Prince Aegon and Princess Rhaena looked at their mother confused. Prince Aenys looked to Shiera for approval and it took all the strength she had to nod her head.
Lady Alyssa carefully took Visenya into her arms and cradled the babe. Shiera expected to see a hint of something in the light purple eyes. Whether it be contempt, hate, or just disappointment she did not know but she expected something. Instead, all her tired eyes saw in the twin purple orbs of her adversary was nothing. She could not make out any emotion and Lady Alyssa was quick to foist her darling little Visenya off onto Princess Rhaena, without asking her first.
“It's a girl!? It's a girl, yes?” Princess Rhaena excitedly said but Shiera was too tired to respond. She barely, barely had the energy to keep her eyelids open and it was King Aegon who answered.
“Indeed it is Rhaena, now be quiet and give your cousin to the midwives,” King Aegon said with a small smile. Barely noticeable unless you were looking for one.
“What? Why?” Rhaena asked, suddenly defensive of her fellow princess, shielding Visenya with her body.
“Because it looks like Shiera is tired and needs some rest,” King Aegon said and before he could even turn his head around to look at her. Shiera’s own eyes closed and she embraced the sweet release of sleep.
…
The sound of a few quiet knocks on the door woke Shiera from her slumber. She had no idea how long she had been out. But the sun was setting and her room was barely illuminated by the still half-blocked windows.
Shiera sat up in her bed and nodded at the midwife in her room. She was unfortunately relegated to strict bed rest for the next few days. More and more memories were coming back to her but she had labored for almost a full day. About one and twenty hours according to the clock she had delivered from Pentos.
In stepped Princess Rhaena Targaryen, looking proud beyond belief. Followed by the princess’s grandfather, King Aegon Targaryen, in all his glory. Then came what she was certainly not expecting. The old Dragonkeeper had welcomed her to the island eight moons before along with two others carrying a small pot.
“Sorry to wake you, but Rhaena absolutely insisted we had to do this now,” King Aegon said with a shrug. Not that she minded, she was still tired, she could surely go back to bed after a few minutes of trying.
“It is fine, what did you have to insist on, Princess Rhaena?” Shiera asked the ten-name day old Princess, still dressed in her purple dress from earlier. ‘So it is still the same day,’ Shiera thought, looking at the clock and seeing it read four and eight.
“A gift!” Princess Rhaena said with a wide smile. She looked supremely proud of herself and Shiera then gave a quizzical look to the Dragonkeepers. The three looked mildly uncomfortable, but they were all at rapt attention.
“A gift for your new cousin, isn’t that right?” King Aegon prompted more information from Princess Rhaena. Perhaps out of courtesy given she was still dead tired.
“Yes! A gift for Visenya!” Princess Rhaena cheered before King Aegon hushed her.
“Shhh, Rhaena your cousin is sleeping,” King Aegon said, pointing to the cradle just by her bedside. The elaborate cradle was constructed of the finest wood one could buy, and it was unfortunately too tall for her to see her darling little Visenya inside of it.
“Right, sorry!” Princess Rhaena whispered, quickly raising her hands to cover her mouth. King Aegon then waved the Dragonkeepers further inside and they lowered the brazier onto one of the many desks in the room.
“And what is this gift you brought my daughter, Princess Rhaena?” Shiera asked the energetic girl at the foot of her bed.
“A dragon egg!” Princess Rhaena said excitedly, barely stopping herself from bouncing around the room.
“What?” Shiera asked, positively befuddled. She recalled a conversation she shared with Maegor a long time ago. About not having any dragon eggs for their family. How they had to simply pray that Vhagar would bless them with a clutch. Yet it seemed they did not need to pray any longer.
“A-are… you sure that is alright?” Shiera asked King Aegon specifically. She could tell by the uneasy expressions of the Dragonkeepers that they clearly did not like it. She was told by Queen Visenya and Maegor that typically, dragon eggs never left the Dragonpit. They were too precious to risk losing. Yet there was one in the brazier on the vanity, clear as day.
King Aegon walked closer to her on the side of her bed before whispering, so quietly that Shiera was certain that nobody but the two of them could hear. “It is fine, we have plenty,” he said with a wink and Shiera held back a laugh. ‘Maegor is going to be ecstatic!’ Shiera barely repressed the desire to cheer.
Their daughter, their Visenya had a dragon egg. A dragon egg that was hers and would presumably go back with them to Pentos. ‘Alright then, once I am healthy I will need to comb the library again, maybe even get myself into the library of the Dragonpit. I need anything,’ Shiera quickly thought. Getting the dragon egg was only half the battle, now they needed to hatch it.
It was then that a slight commotion broke out in the room. One of the Dragonkeepers squawking at something by the brazier. Once Shiera’s eyes refocused, she saw that it was Princess Rhaena, who had plucked the egg from its fiery cradle.
“Princess Rhaena, please return the egg to the brazier!” the lead Dragonkeeper scolded, before King Aegon intervened.
“Rhaena, what are you doing?” he said in a tone only a grandfather could muster. One that demanded an answer to a question the one asking already knew.
“I… I am giving the egg to Visenya,” Princess Rhaena sheepishly said, digging her toes into the rug on the ground.
“And why do you want to do that?” Shiera asked this time. She knew logically it would not hurt her daughter. Nothing less than an open flame or boiling water could burn her daughter, for she was a Targaryen, but Shiera’s curiosity demanded an answer.
“Because, I think she wants to see it,” Princess Rhaena weakly offered and soon enough the three Dragonkeepers all trained their eyes on King Aegon, awaiting his judgment.
“Rhaena…” King Aegon began but Princess Rhaena spoke first.
“Please, Grandfather! What is wrong with it? The egg won’t go cold for a while!” Rhaena pleaded and Shiera’s interest was thoroughly piqued.
King Aegon let out a sigh before shaking his head. “I just cannot say no to you, can I?” he said with an exasperated smile and Princess Rhaena excitedly ran over to the cradle Visenya was sleeping in. Shiera caught a glimpse of the egg for the first time and noticed its color. Solid bronze, like Vhagar but without the green.
Princess Rhaena gingerly placed the egg in the cradle before hopping over to Shiera’s side. “I thought it only fair that both princesses get a dragon!” she said with a smile and Shiera innocently returned one. Everyone knew eggs only ever hatched in the hatcheries but the gesture was kind nonetheless.
“Did you pick out the egg?” Shiera asked, not wanting to end the excitement.
“Yes! Father said that Aunt Visenya rides Vhagar, and Vhagar is bronze. So obviously Visenya should have a bronze dragon too,” Rhaena looked quite proud of her logic and Shiera could only chuckle.
“What are you laughing at?” Princess Rhaena said with an accusatory tone and Shiera did her best to dispel the laughter.
“You are a sweetheart Rhaena,” Shiera began, not even realizing she had dropped her formal tone. But you did not give my daughter a dragon, you gave her a dragon eg-” Shiera said before a loud CRACK resounded across the room.
In an instant, five bodies were crowded around the cradle and Shiera swiveled her head just as fast. She could see the tiniest wisps of smoke rising from the cradle and she willed her own body out of bed.
She ignored her aches and pains, and her wobbly legs too as she pushed past the elderly dragonkeeper to look at just what was happening inside the cradle. The sight laid before her would be etched in her memory forever.
A smoking, shattered, empty bronze egg. With a little bronze hatchling draped over her daughter, who was smiling from ear to ear.
Comments
Morel
Nah I wouldn’t do that to her
Morel
Will fix that later. Thank you!
Omar
Also forgot to mention, Rhaena saying “it’s sucks” doesn’t really fit the setting. specially since it’s in the medieval period, and that she was raised to speak formally.
Bobby Hill
Was really worried there for a second, I anticipated Shiera dying in childbirth if anything, or the babe being stillborn.
