Morel
patreon
32. Visenya I
🕑 Added 2024-08-24 12:19:57 +0000 UTCHello everyone, a few notes before we begin. This upload is a little early because I will be very busy for the next few days. I will also be much more busy going forward because I am returning to college. I will do my very best to keep up with the weekly upload schedule and if there are any complications I will inform you guys promptly. With all that said, I do a lot of worldbuilding in this chapter and I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments.
Visenya VI
32AC
The frigid winds one experienced while on dragon back mixed oh so unpleasantly with the still cool winds of the fading winter. Yet Visenya did not mind the temperature as the cold whipped at her body. For she was finally going where she had wished to for a while now. Her son had finally called for her, not just for a visit. But to properly join them in Pentos, for as long as they remained there.
Vhagar let out a low rumble as the winds high above the Narrow Sea kicked up once more. The winter was fading but the cold remained ever present. Dragons, as creatures of fire, naturally disliked the cold. Their preferred environment was the old Lands of the Long Summer after all.
‘I suppose we are like in that way,’ Visenya thought with a sad smile.
How many times had she dreamed of Old Valyria? Thought of the opulence their house once possessed, even as the lowest of the dragon-riding houses the splendor they had in Old Valyria must have been legendary. Putting even their current station at the top of Westeros to shame.
How many times had she wished to see the lands Aenar the Exile had given up to finance his move to Dragonstone? The mines which their house had plundered for eight millennia, making even the Golden Lions of House Lannister look positively destitute in comparison. The resplendent estates, where the cold never came, where the sun always shined, where all manner of bountiful crops and foodstuffs were grown year-round.
Yet the Old Valyria that Visenya had dreamed of died well over a hundred years ago now. The great Fourteen Flames which had birthed their dragons and provided them with untold wealth, had also taken it all away in an instant. Millennia spent as the most advanced and powerful civilization the world had ever seen did not matter in the slightest, as all that splendor and opulence disappeared under fire and ash.
Yet her house, the lowest of Old Valyria’s forty dragon-riding families, did not perish on that fateful day. For a prophecy had foretold them of a doom that had not yet come. So Aenar, in his boundless wisdom left Old Valyria two and ten years prior to the doom. With his wives, children, slaves, what wealth he still had, and most importantly, his five dragons.
Yet in their survival, House Targaryen had fallen. Decades of separation from their ancestral lands. Of selling off their more priceless artifacts to finance their voyage and purchase of the island. Of familial disputes and interference from troublesome interlopers. Their house was not the same one that left Old Valyria almost one hundred and fifty years ago.
The ceaseless efforts of her grandfather and herself had helped restore what was lost to a degree but the damage could not so easily be undone. The careful and meticulous teachings developed over millennia of unbroken family lines had been disrupted and their precious texts had been lost, destroyed, or not properly maintained. So their prowess in what had made them so special dwindled.
It had gotten to the point that, aside from fire magic, the occasional uncontrolled dragon dream, intermittent glass candle usage, and some more miscellaneous deployments of small-scale blood magic. House Targaryen had lost nearly all of their magic.
‘Thankfully, we have not lost you too,’ Visenya thought while rubbing the scales of her precious Vhagar. House Targaryen would truly have to lose their way to lose their dragons. The magic used to claim them was directly tied to their blood after all.
The method to give another dragon blood was long since lost. Likely forever, as the only dragons in the world rested firmly in the grasp of the last scions of Old Valyria. Visenya would see to it, neither would she allow their family to lose their ability nor would she allow others to potentially find a way to claim it, even if she doubted such a process still existed.
Their ancestors had ridden dragons for millennia, from the very start of their empire to the very end. They also extensively used blood magic, famously creating hideous abominations on faraway lands to satiate their thirst for knowledge. It stood to reason then that her ancestors certainly would have made it impossible for anyone not of their blood to claim a dragon.
She could not fathom how they could not. Millennia of tampering with dragons, making them more suitable for riding, breeding new traits, colors, sizes, shapes, features, personalities, and speeds. Old Valyria had molded the dragons just as much as the dragons had molded their empire.
To not prohibit others from potentially claiming that same power seemed impossible to Visenya. She certainly would have if she were in their position. Anyone not of your blood could never truly be trusted, and so it stood to reason that only those of your blood should possess the power to truly challenge you.
Yet, others somehow finding a way to claim dragons without the requisite blood of the forty was not Visenya’s main concern. It was the prospect of her own bloodline descending into the same state as the mongrels that surrounded them.
The moment their ancestors left Old Valyria, House Targaryen took on great risk. In Old Valyria, incestuous marriages were frankly more of a political tool to keep dragons in the main line than derived from any true necessity. Whatever the Maesters believed that it was custom because it was thought brother-sister marriages had the purest match was nonsense. They wrote only the myths her own house had spread after the Doom in an attempt to preserve their own dragon blood. Blood was blood, regardless of whether it was that of a sibling or a distant cousin, it mattered not so long as both were pure and dragon blooded. Not to mention, any potential thinning could have been offset by the magic that had given their families the power in the first place. Yet her house no longer possessed such luxuries. They were bereft of their kin back east. Branch families, cousins, allies in the Forty, even bastards born of concubines, were all gone now, along with all the other secrets and magics of Old Valyria, including any means to truly restore dragon blood that had been diluted beyond repair.
So it stood to reason that House Targaryen must preserve the blood purity it currently possessed, to the best of their ability at the very least. They had started off strong early in their rulership of Dragonstone. With strategic marriages of excess daughters to the Houses Velaryon and Gryvetheon, along with seeding the island with bastards should the worst truly come to pass. Both houses Gryvetheon and Velaryon would one day supply their house with brides so the gamble paid off but the thinning of their blood was a trend that could not continue.
Visenya did not know how thin their blood would have to get for their ability to ride dragons to completely disappear, or even if it would at all. But she would rather be safe than sorry when regarding such a terrifying concept. Such was her predicament, the next generation of her house may very well be vital.
She and Rhaenys had thoroughly failed in their duty, their responsibility. They had succeeded in providing their husband with sons but had failed in regard to daughters. Her youthful hubris and faith in her siblings had allowed her better judgment to slip. She should have had more children, at least a daughter for Maegor to marry. But it was already too late when she gave birth to Maegor, and by the time she realized the severity of her mistake, it was far too late to fix it.
As a result of their failure, Aenys and Maegor both had unworthy wives. Alyssa was better based on blood alone, the girl’s paternal great-grandmother was a Targaryen, with House Targaryen marrying into House Velaryon several times before that. She was the ideal candidate for Aenys, which was why she agreed with Aegon’s decision when that betrothal was finalized.
Yet it had all fallen apart when it came to Maegor. Aegon had chosen perhaps the single worst candidate he could have possibly found. An Andal, bereft of any Valyrian, much less Targaryen, blood. Then he had the audacity to be surprised when she circumvented such a boneheaded maneuver.
‘Would he have listened if I provided a better option?’ Visenya thought with a small frown. Years of separation had cooled the rage. It was still warm, and Visenya still held less than zero desire to ever see her failure of a brother again, but she could not help but think.
What if she went to him with a counteroffer? What if she had known of Shiera and her blood ties then? What if she had a candidate from Volantis or Lys already? She had rested on her laurels, pushing off the subject as a future issue. When she should have begun looking the moment she had finished giving birth to Maegor.
“What ifs will do us no good any longer, right Vhagar?” Visenya whispered over the cold, windy air. Vhagar could certainly not hear her, much less understand her. But she could feel Visenya’s emotions.
Another low rumble from Vhagar was the confirmation that Visenya wanted. Maegor had always spoken of living in the moment or looking toward the future, instead of being stuck in the past. Where he had gotten the notion she had no idea but it was likely necessary now.
Their old lives were gone, and even if Aenys grew a spine and actually brought Maegor back to Westeros, it would never be the same. Maegor had been exiled from the Kingdom, and had his legacy and honor tarnished to marry a bride of far more suitable stock. His children would benefit from the marriage in some ways but be hurt in others.
They would surely benefit from a better mother in the first case. Visenya had put in many, many days of work and tutelage to make Sheira the best bride she could be. Her blood was not the greatest but she made up for it in other ways. The girl had a quick wit, even if she had a tendency to get too focused on one thing, or stubbornly refuse to see reason.
Visenya balled her hand into a fist remembering that incident. Shiera’s youthful naivete and hubris had gotten the better of her. In a similar way to how her own youthful ignorance and hubris had led to her swearing off having children until it was too late. Shiera had nearly died, nearly letting her unborn child growing in her womb die.
Such an enormous error had to be responded to with an enormous lesson. Thinking back on it, Visenya thought she might have been a bit too harsh. But her words were nothing but the truth, and it was a truth Shiera sorely needed to hear.
Yet that action had consequences, Maegor was not particularly happy with her after Shiera’s lecture. Asking her to return to Dragonstone until the birth of their child, even though Visenya offered to remain in the city to better protect Shiera.
Visenya was reluctant to leave Pentos after that incident. But Maegor insisted and it all seemed to work out. Shiera appeared much more astute the next two times Visenya saw her. Along with the semi-regular communications the two shared over glass candles and letters. She was more aware of her station and position, which was what she needed most in Pentos.
The benefit of having a good mother was not the only one Shiera brought to her children. Shiera was a natural with a glass candle and was an eager magic student. It was vital that she was, given Visenya’s advancing age and the chance she may not live long enough to pass the knowledge to her grandchildren. She would leave as much knowledge as she could in journals and books, as her grandfather Daemion had before her but nothing beat actual tutelage.
That brought her to the negatives of Maegor picking Shiera. Visenya did not like to dwell on them very much but they did exist. First was the lack of access to the wealth, prestige, and power that she, Aegon, and Rhaenys had expended so much blood for their house to gain.
Instead of a royal education, with hundreds of knights and maesters leaping at the chance to educate her grandchildren, they would have to make do with the modest living they would be afforded in Pentos. Unless Aenys lifted Maegor’s banishment in the future but that was still likely far off if it would happen at all.
It seemed Maegor also noted this flaw and was working to remedy it. She had received extensive reports and descriptions of all the investments and purchases Maegor was making in Pentos from letters Maegor sent and direct word from Shiera.
Countless farms, estates in the Velvet Hills, the patronage of skilled artisans, the loyalty of small farmers, alliances among the Conclave. Her son was not willing to sit on his hands following his victory over the Dothraki and Visenya applauded him for it.
Of course, the lack of resources and wealth paled in comparison to the real cost of Maegor’s banishment. One that became readily apparent a little over two sennights ago when Rhaena claimed the hatchling she named Dreamfyre.
Daeron and Baelon had no such prospects. All they had to look forward to was perhaps inheriting their father’s sole dragon. A male one that would not lay any eggs in all likelihood. Eggs that would likely never hatch, given they would be quite far from the new natural home of the Dragons in this world.
Dragonstone was vital for the power of House Targaryen. The hatcheries on the island had birthed all five of the dragons born after the doom. Meraxes, Vhagar, Quicksilver, Terrax, and now Dreamfyre. The Valyrian craftsmen who created Dragonstone were kind enough to include a hatchery built into the pit and it was their lifeblood now.
There were other means of hatching eggs but they varied in success rate and viability. There were mentions in her very old texts on Dragonstone of her ancestors in the Freehold using blood sacrifices to awaken dragon eggs, but considering they had a distinctive lack of slaves and human sacrifice was, frowned upon nowadays. That would likely have to be a last resort.
That was assuming that Vhagar would lay eggs at all of course. Meraxes and Vhagar only ever seemed to roost on Dragonstone. Her father Aerion worked to collect as much dragonlore as he could from the library on Dragonstone and condense it into a single work. In that work, he speculated that Dragonstone, as the closest environment in the world to the old Fourteen Flames, was vital for dragon reproduction.
Visenya was not entirely certain about that but it was pretty clear that dragons preferred Dragonstone to all other environments. They would tolerate living damn near anywhere their rider was but any self-respecting dragonlord should be able to feel the emotions of their dragon. She herself had felt it many times, Vhagar was simply more content on Dragonstone, much like herself.
‘Sorry girl,’ Visenya thought with a small frown. She imagined that the thought of his son’s future dragons weighed heavily on Maegor’s mind. As such, she was expecting a request to name Daeron as the next rider of Vhagar. Meaning her beloved dragon could very well be remaining in Pentos for a long, long time.
Even if he did not request it, she would still do so. Vhagar was her dragon. She may have been bonded to another Targaryen before her but Vhagar would always be hers. The first to take her to war and victory. It was only right that she and she alone got to choose who next claimed her ferocious Vhagar.
The thought of her Vhagar being ridden by Daeron was an odd one for Visenya. She knew logically it was bound to happen, she had long since begun to feel the presence of age creep into her form. She had managed to stave off the feeling for some time, but ever since she gave up Dark Sister, it was as if age finally had caught up to Visenya.
She had once told Maegor that the reason for House Targaryen passing their dragons down through a chosen method was due to their low status as Dragonlords in Old Valyria. It was pure speculation on her end but it seemed to check out. A low number of dragons means each and every one is precious, coupled with the deep bonds a rider and dragon could develop. It made sense to control who could and could not claim a dragon.
Yet Visenya hoped it would change. There used to be houses in Old Valyria with hundreds of dragons to their name. Where every member of the house could pick and choose from among their stock of free dragons. Who were so numerous as to always have at least one be free.
Visenya hoped her house may one day rise to that level. They may never achieve the same magical prowess that they possessed in Old Valyria, even as the weakest of the dragonlords. But they could perhaps one day surpass their ancestors when it came to dragons. After all, they had already caught up to Aenar with the number of claimed dragons.
“Perhaps being in Essos will allow us to rekindle what was lost,” Visenya spoke a little louder and with some more energy. They were surely nearing Pentos proper now. She had left Dragonstone in the early morning, hoping to spend the midday unpacking her things from Vhagar’s saddle and then spend the evening with her family.
Vhagar suddenly stirred beneath Visenya. As if perturbed by something she saw. Visenya noted it immediately and scanned the skies and the waters below. ‘What could trouble Vhagar?’ Visenya thought for a moment. Vhagar was only surpassed by Balerion in size and power. Anything less should not have concerned a dragon of Vhagar’s size.
But then Visenya noticed it. Great plumes of smoke on the horizon. Visenya strained her aging, weary eyes to see where it came from as she urged Vhagar faster. Fearing the worst.
The worst was right to be feared. As Visenya neared the city proper, she saw the distinctive mansion her son called home still smoking, clearly having been burnt.
…
An earth-shattering THUD rolled out beneath Vhagar’s great legs as Visenya brought her illustrious she-dragon down for a hot landing. Having already unchained herself from the saddle in the air. She descended Vhagar’s wing before her dragon had even come to a complete standstill.
At a breakneck pace, faster than she had run in decades. Visenya pushed through the enormous crowd surrounding the mansion and closed in on the formation of what must have been four dozen guards in the courtyard. Each was completely focused, with their shields and spears ready.
They seemed to whisper amongst themselves as she closed in. No doubt shocked at the sloppy landing of Vhagar but she pushed past them in an instant. None dared to stop her as she passed the shields and spears unharmed..
The scene that met her eyes was one that she had feared most. Maegor, bereft of his armor and most of his clothes, lay in the lap of Shiera, blood covering him from head to toe while it looked like Shiera had been crying for hours. Her eyes were puffy and her hands were still visibly shaking.
“What happened!” Visenya yelled instantly, closing in and dropping to a knee beside Shiera and Maegor.
Her gooddaughter appeared shocked to see her but quickly jumped into action. “We… w- we were attacked l-last night. We were talking in the nursery… when there was a commotion outside of the room and someone attacked Maegor when he went out to investigate,” Shiera said in a shaky, hoarse voice.
Meanwhile, Visenya took the chance to inspect Maegor. He was covered in dried blood and bandages. With the most cloth wrapped around his chest and left arm. A thick, blood-soaked bandage covered her son’s chest near the bottom of his left ribs and around his left arm.
Shiera seemed to notice her gaze as she began speaking once more. “I-I stopped the bleeding, he is breathing but he has not woken up,” Shiera said through new tears streaming down her cheeks but Visenya’s mind had already decided on what to say.
“An assassin got through!? How?!” Visenya roared again, her rage and worry were palpable. So overflowing were her emotions that she had failed to notice one more thing in the courtyard. Terrax was currently coiled around Shiera and Maegor, along with her two grandchildren once Visenya got a better look.
Both of her grandsons were placed on the ground, Daeron sitting while Baelon lay flat on his back and Dark Sister was placed between the two. Presumably so Shiera could tend to Maegor. Yet Terrax circled them in with his tail and long neck. Shielding the four from any potential attackers with one of his wings. He only opened up slightly around Shiera and Maegor, albeit with his head nearby to strike if needed.
Terrax bristled at the clear rage wafting off of her. Though she imagined he bristled more at the emotions radiating off of Vhagar. Who was currently peering over the low walls of the manse, looking to check on her distressed rider.
“I… I don’t know,” Shiera started to cry, for what was almost certainly not the first time this day. Visenya could spot the tear marks on her dress and the still puffy eyes and cheeks on her face.
‘Who could have done this to Maegor?’ Visenya wracked her brain. Maegor was one of the finest warriors she had ever seen. He had only gotten more capable since he defeated Ser Corlys years ago and he was of such an imposing stature that he could likely kill a man with a single swing of his fists. To render him this injured in a bout meant that he was fighting no ordinary assassin, even if they ambushed him.
“Why are you still here? Why have the soldiers not moved him if he is stable?” Visenya forced herself to calm down. Her son needed her now more than ever. She could not afford to let her emotions cloud her judgment, no matter how powerful of a storm they currently were.
“Terrax will not let them, every time a guard gets close, he hisses and threatens to burn them,” Shiera was beginning to calm down too. The slow, labored breaths of Maegor seemed to bring her a sense of ease as Shiera turned her eyes off of Visenya and brushed her blood-covered fingers through Maegor’s hair.
“We must move him, he is not safe here,” Visenya said while scanning the courtyard. Terrax provided a certain level of security but Maegor needed proper medical attention. Shiera had managed to stem the bleeding and Maegor was still breathing but they needed to get him inside and away from the elements.
“I cannot lift him, and Terrax will not let the guards get close,” Shiera almost seemed to chuckle at their predicament. Maegor’s protective dragon was inadvertently hurting him.
“Do you know where we can go?” Visenya asked Shiera, clearly and concisely. Her gooddaughter was in a fragile state right now. The last thing she needed was Shiera falling apart while Maegor was injured.
“Take him to my manse, he will be safe there,” a chubby man outside of the shield wall suddenly cut in and Visenya sent him a glare that could kill.
“Illyrio is Maegor’s closest ally in the city, and his manse is not far,” Shiera seemed to calm down and work to assuage Visenya’s rage.
“Do the guards know the way?” Visenya said with a light nod toward the guards. Only to be met with a curt nod and unneeded verbal confirmation from the chubby magister still hugging the outskirts of the courtyard.
Visenya helped Shiera get out of her current position under Maegor’s head and Visenya took her place. While Shiera picked up her sons with shaky hands. Visenya sucked in a breath and reached under Maegor’s arms.
With a great heave, Visenya pulled Maegor up and over the still tail tip of Terrax. Only to be met with a loud hiss and a guttural growl as Maegor groaned from the sudden movement. Terrax stared intently into Visenya’s eyes. Vibrant green orbs meeting her own dark purple ones.
The rest of the guards in the courtyard turned their blades toward Terrax but Visenya stayed their hand. The last thing she needed was for Terrax to strike at Maegor’s very guards. They would be getting some thorough retraining for some and no doubt others would be dismissed but Maegor would certainly be upset if they died.
“Lykiri, Terrax,” Visenya whispered. Trying desperately to convey the message. She was a friend, not a foe.
Terrax took one glance at her and then one at Vhagar before withdrawing his tail and wings. Revealing Shiera to the proper sunlight again and making it far easier for Visenya to drag Maegor’s limp body to the guards.
Once the first guard was brave enough to close in to help her, the rest soon followed and a tight formation was formed around Maegor as a stretcher was prepared to carry him the distance.
The four guards hoisted him up on a stretcher produced by a healer while the rest of the contingent formed a tight group around their prince. Pushing through the rowdy crowd, which was beginning to become unruly after catching a glimpse of her son’s injured state.
They were lucky that Shiera was correct. They made it to the short but robust walls of the chubby man’s manse in no time at all. The crowds began to descend into a rage but still let them pass, even if a few had to be pushed out of the way. It had hardly taken any time at all until they were safely behind the walls of a new, much larger manse.
Magister Illyrio led them to a small, secluded room deep within the expansive labyrinthine walls of the manse and brought them a healer. Even if she and Shiera only really needed him for clean supplies.
Shiera set down her exhausted, sleeping children in a cradle provided to them by the fat man and worked to join her in treating Maegor. Carefully, and in tandem, they removed the thick cloth bandages placed on his wounds and got to work stitching them closed.
The wound on Maegor’s left arm was bad but nothing truly concerning. Shiera worked quickly and efficiently, just as she had been taught years ago on many damned souls. Maegor barely got out a few quiet groans before his left arm had been patched up. It would likely take some time before he could swing his arm at full strength again but at least it was not his sword arm.
Visenya meanwhile had a much more daunting challenge. A proper stab wound in the lower ribcage. Visenya could tell it had pierced the liver, which was mighty concerning. The fact that Maegor was not dead indicated that an artery had not been hit but such a deep cut boded poorly. Visenya used boiling wine to clean the area and stitch it up but it could take a moon or two before Maegor was properly healed at the earliest.
Both she and Shiera worked on the smaller cuts Maegor had experienced after that. A dozen small slashes, just through the skin, dotted his chest and arms. With perhaps two dozen more scratches that needed to be cleaned.
Both breathed a sigh of relief in unison once their work was completed. Maegor’s left arm and lower chest were once more lined with a thick bandage but his labored breathing continued unabated and with the wounds properly closed. They could afford a small break.
Shiera took the chance to check on her children, both still fast asleep from the action and energy they no doubt expended from the attack. While Visenya picked up Dark Sister from the ground.
Her old blade felt alien in her hand. She had given up the sword to her son years ago now. Passed it onto her son whom she deemed worthy. Yet how could he have possibly suffered these injuries with Dark Sister at his side?
“Explain more, how Maegor was harmed so greatly,” Visenya whispered, despite the fire in her tone, she had no wish to wake her slumbering grandchildren.
“He did not have Dark Sister, if that is what you are asking. He left it in our room when he returned from his time at the conclave. He did not wish for its rattling against his body to wake the children,” Shiera sighed, tiredness seeming to take complete hold of her.
“And the assassin? Did you catch a glimpse of them?” Visenya stared intently into the blood-red eyes of her gooddaughter. She needed to know how this could have happened, to respond appropriately.
“I did, but it was brief. The thing looked…wrong. Almost as if its eyes were not its own somehow. I do not know how to explain,” Shiera sighed and Visenya’s blood ran cold.
“A Faceless Man…” Visenya muttered to herself. She hoped they would never cross her house's path again. Especially after the fire and blood, her grandfather had brought to the order of cowards.
“A what? Do you know who attacked Maegor?” Shiera asked, her energy seemingly restored.
“A Faceless Man, a group of well-trained assassins, who worship a death god, and can wear the faces of others,” Visenya groaned out, she so deeply wished it had been a normal attempted assassination. Killing some foolishly brash magister was far easier than what she would have to do.
“Wear the faces of others… then are we doomed? How can we stop attackers who can disguise themselves as one of us?!” Shiera exclaimed in rightful fear, but Visenya had no time for fear.
“We are not, doomed. But we must act fast. House Targaryen has danced with the Faceless Men before. It seems they did not learn their lesson the first time,” Visenya said with a fiery tone. Not since her argument with Aegon had her tone been so venomous.
“The first time? What are you talking about?” Shiera asked with a thorough bewilderment. Visenya had taught her much but she had deliberately tried to keep some things from Shiera. Some things that Visenya knew her gooddaughter would obsess and fret over.
Yet her caution and attempt at preventing her gooddaughter from descending into a paranoid spiral had come back to bite her. Now Visenya had to explain a portion of her history she had deliberately hidden from Maegor and Shiera. A shameful one of their house’s near extinction.
“You know of Lord Maegon Targaryen, and his desperation to see House Targaryen restored to its former glory,” Visenya began from the beginning, House Targaryen’s history in the Century of Blood was not a pretty one. But it was unfortunately relevant. Not to mention that Visenya had some time to kill before nightfall.
“Yes, Your Grace. His efforts to restore House Targaryen to its former glory is why you named Maegor after him, correct?” Shiera descended back into her knowledge-thirsty ways, even if there was not a backdrop of urgency to her tone.
“Indeed, his was a noble cause. Even if he did not ultimately succeed,” Visenya frowned. Maegon Targaryen was the last of the great blood mages of their house. Visenya and her grandfather Daemion Targaryen would attempt to fill the hole his death left behind but they failed.
She named her son after Maegon in the hopes he would achieve what his namesake had failed to do. Fully restore House Targaryen to their pre-doom power and prestige. They may now possess seven Kingdoms but not even Seven Kingdoms could replace what they had lost.
“Lord Maegon died a suspicious death. Killed in his sleep by an unknown attacker,” Visenya began, and noted Shiera’s rapt attention to her every word as she took a seat to rest her weary legs.
“I thought a disgruntled slave killed Lord Maegon? Unhappy at his station worsening and his wealth disappearing overnight,” Shiera blurted out, the cover story they had come up with leaking through her lips.
“That is who Aerys blamed. But it was not the attacker. The assassin was a Faceless Man, not unlike the one who attacked Maegor. Disguised as a guard who slashed his throat in the night,” Visenya began with a frown. She greatly disliked this period of their history.
“So what did Lord Aerys do?” Shiera asked, no doubt trying to find the hidden clues in the official telling of events.
“He did nothing, he feared their retaliation and so he remained quiet until he could no longer. The endless questioning of his three sons, Aelyx, Baelon, and Daemion, finally coaxed the truth from him and House Targaryen was incensed by it,” Visenya groaned out, the hubris of their ancestors and the cunning of the Faceless Men caused great harm onto House Targaryen.
“Aelyx had aspirations of refounding Old Valyria, of flying east with Balerion and his brothers atop Vhagar and eventually Meraxes and begin to restore what was lost, but the fear of the Faceless Men consumed him. So he began preparing for a fight. It just so happened that the Faceless Men were preparing to do so as well,” Visenya continued.
“They feared just what Aelyx planned to do. A resurgent House Targaryen, aiming to reclaim what we had lost. Especially with the birth of Meraxes one and seventy years before the conquest and Vhagar less than twenty years later. They feared that from our new home of Dragonstone, a second Valyria would be born,” Visenya said with a sad smile on her face. Had the Faceless Men not interfered, perhaps House Targaryen would have already controlled their old empire before she had even been born.
“The shadow war began with the death of Lord Aerys. He was pressured into preparing the depleted coffers and food stores of Dragonstone to survive a siege, and meeting with our aligned houses of Velaryon and Celtigar should Braavos be foolish enough to defend their resident death cult,” Visenya said and she noticed something appear to click inside of Shiera’s mind.
“Braavos… do you think it was them who ordered the hit?” Shiera seemed to connect quite a few dots in her head and Visenya let out a hum before agreeing.
It made sense of course. Maegor was encroaching on their territory and accruing much influence in Pentos. For such cowardly and paranoid people as the Braavosi, it would seem like he was preparing a reconquest of Essos.
“So how did Lord Aerys die?” Shiera asked hesitantly.
“A Faceless Man disguised as a trusted guard got him. Lord Aerys never imagined that one of his closest friends and guards could ever be killed by a Faceless Man. That hubris cost him his life,” Visenya groaned once more. Oh, how she bemoaned fate. Aerys was a competent lord had he survived, he could have calmed his eldest son Aelyx and perhaps even prevented his death.
“Then what of Lord Aelyx and Lord Baelon? Both died as well correct?” Shiera asked again, seeming to understand just how strange it was that Daemion, a third son, was the one to inherit Dragonstone.
“Lord Aelyx assumed the position as lord, given that he was Lord Aerys’s heir. His rage knew no bounds after the dishonorable death of his father and he prepared to fly to Braavos to burn the House of Black and White, along with the rest of the city, yet he never made it out of the castle. As a second Faceless Man was waiting, disguised as a maid, he had his throat cut in the halls of the castle. Even though it cost that Faceless Man their life,” Visenya continued to tell Shiera, desiring to finish the story.
“Wait, a second one? There were multiple on Dragonstone?” Shiera asked, fear in her tone. If there were multiple sent to slay House Targaryen, surely more than one was sent to slay Maegor.
“If you are still unharmed and we were not attacked on our march here, then I think we are fine. I will explain later but my grandfather Daemion brought Fire and Blood to the cowards,” Visenya tried to assuage her gooddaughter’s fears as best she could. It was pure speculation on her end after all.
“How did Lord Baelon die then?” Shiera asked after calming herself down somewhat.
“Lord Baelon assumed the position as Lord Aerys’s heir and took the title of lord before Aelyx’s body had even gone cold. Given that Aelyx died before his wife Saera Targaryen could bear him children. His elder brother’s death terrified Lord Baelon. Who descended into a paranoid haze along with his little brother Daemion,” Visenya continued the humiliating tale. Gaemon the Glorious would have stomped the Faceless Men flat, with no issue. Yet her ancestors scrambled to fight cowards.
“How did he die?” Shiera asked again.
“Lord Baelon was killed in a meeting with his friend, Maelys Velaryon, son and heir of House Velaryon. Just a single day after the deaths of his father and elder brother,” Visenya sighed, this was a dark spot on both House Velaryon and Targaryen.
“How?” Shiera asked again, looking impatient as she glanced at her still-sleeping children. The message was clear, she should hurry up before the children woke up.
“Maelys Velaryon was killed before the meeting, and was replaced with a Faceless Man, who killed Baelon without a second thought,” Visenya said to a straight-faced Shiera.
“Wait… so a Faceless Man can only disguise himself as someone they already killed?” Shiera asked suddenly, hope gleaming in her eyes momentarily.
“That is correct, but they have a vast number of faces to use in reserve, it is virtually impossible to tell if a random person you do not know is a Faceless Man or not,” Visenya said but Shiera’s hope was not abated. She seemed to be thinking deeply in her mind, perhaps coming up with an idea.
“So how did Lord Daemion vanquish this menace? Secure House Targaryen?” Shiera asked intently, Visenya was glad she was not wallowing in despair. Instead, she looked for hope in the past.
“Lord Daemion ascended the throne of Dragonstone, despite both of his elder brothers being married. Neither produced a child before their death. Which meant that Daemion was the sole adult male Targaryen. Thankfully, he was perhaps the best suited for such a shadow war,” Visenya’s tone improved a bit, as House Targaryen’s vengeance was served by Lord Daemion.
“Daemion swiftly claimed Balerion following the untimely death of his elder brother Aelyx, and placed his lady wife, Vaella Targaryen, atop Meraxes. Meanwhile, he locked Vhagar in the pit, and his two elder sisters within their quarters, fearing the Faceless Men would target them too,” Visenya began.
“Daemion ruled with a reign of terror. He overhauled the defenses of Castle Dragonstone. Locking the castle off from any and all visitors. The Castle Staff were purged, with dozens of suspicious actors being killed, including the Faceless Man that got Lords Maegon and Aerys. He then accompanied the purges with reforms to the guards. None were to go anywhere alone. Everyone did everything in groups of three to four, with regular checks of identity and usage of a glass candle to spot any abnormalities,” Visenya continued but was soon cut off by Shiera’s beginning to speak.
“Glass Candles can do that?” Shiera asked and was received with a nod.
“Indeed, the disguises of the Faceless Men can not hold up to the magical inquiry of a glass candle, their true form is revealed and may be pounced upon,” Visenya said and she saw a glimmer of hope appear in Shiera’s eyes, accompanied by the fires of determination.
‘Good, at least she is ready for what is to come,’ Visenya thought with a frown. It was unfortunate that Maegor was not skilled with the Glass Candle, as spreading its usage between herself and Shiera could easily result in overuse, which would be detrimental to their health.
“Daemion first purged the castle, and then moved onto the town from there, using Balerion and his glass candle to sift through each and every person on the island. The docks were closed, the people forced off the farms, and any who refused to listen to the call were put to the sword. Thousands of people died on Dragonstone under Daemion’s rule but his efforts worked. He successfully had four and ten Faceless Men killed over the course of three years. The devastation Daemion brought to the Faceless Men was so great that they sought peace,,” Visenya said and noted the bewilderment on Shiera’s face.
“Sought peace?” Shiera asked her obvious question and Visenya nodded for what felt like the hundredth time.
“Indeed, a Faceless Man revealed himself on the docks, along with a small delegation of Braavosi sailors and the son of the Sealord. They sought peace, the exact terms were never written down by Daemion in his notes but the Faceless Men said that their god had proved that Daemion and his family were not to die, and thus they desired peace,” Visenya finished the story of House Targaryen’s shadow war but Shiera looked like she had more to ask.
“He just accepted those terms? Why would he? He was winning!” Shiera spoke a little louder than was needed and Daeron stirred from the sudden noise.
“His son Aerion, my father, was recently born. With his being the last adult male Targaryen and unwilling to risk his or his child’s lives any longer. He agreed, he maintained his scrutiny for the rest of his life and his rules exist on Dragonstone to this day but another Faceless Man never arrived. The first attempt since the peace was last night, against Maegor,” Visenya finished just as Daeron started to cry and woke up his little brother, who joined in.
Shiera and Visenya both moved to comfort the crying princes. Exhausted from the energetic night and just rudely awakened. Visenya continued answering short questions from Shiera for a little while longer but soon it was time for her to take action.
“I must leave now,” Visenya said abruptly. Handing off Daeron to Shiera who was nursing a hungry Baelon. They could not exactly trust those around them at the moment so Shiera had little choice in the matter. A wet nurse could be compromised already.
“What? Where are you going?” Shiera looked concerned. Not that Visenya could blame her but she needed to strike soon. Before word got back to Braavos of her son’s survival. It had already been nearly a full day since the event. No doubt a ship would soon arrive in Braavos telling of the news.
“To Braavos, to strike before the Faceless Men have the chance to try again,” Visenya said with a fire in her tone and Shiera began to shake again.
“You cannot leave us here,” she practically pleaded. With Maegor still unconscious and nobody they could trust nearby. It stood to reason that Shiera feared a second attack.
“Instruct the guards to kill anyone and everyone who approaches besides me,” Visenya gave the order and Shiera gulped. Unwilling to refuse her but also not at all happy with the command.
“I will return before the morning does. If Braavos is slain quickly, then the work cut out for us will be much simpler,” Visenya began before a loud groan was heard from Maegor.
“Ughhhhh,” he exclaimed followed by a hiss of pain as her previously unconscious son sat up from his lying position.
“Maegor!” Visenya and Shiera suddenly yelled and rushed over to him.
“Thank the gods you are alright!” “Try not to move much, your wounds are still fresh!” the two spoke at once, both concerned for his health but expressing their thoughts in different ways.
“What is this about Braavos?” Maegor groggily asked, still wincing and groaning as he swung his feet off the makeshift bed and tested his legs on the ground.
“Do not stand up! What part of your wounds are still fresh did you not understand!” Visenya yelled at her foolish son. Who seemed determined to reopen his wounds and begin bleeding out again.
“As if I would let you fly to Braavos and fight a battle alone,” Maegor said with accusatory eyes and both Visenya and Shiera shared a glance.
“How much did you hear?” Shiera asked with hope and curiosity in her tone.
“Enough, now you said we must strike fast, yes? Then let us not waste any more time,” Maegor said while giving himself a great heave to his feet.
He wobbled this way and that and had to place a hand on the wall to support himself but he did not topple over. He stood to his full height, one arm cradling his ribs, where most of his pain must have been from, and the other gripping firmly at the wall.
“You should not be walking! Much less flying! I will attack Braavos alone. Vhagar is more than enough to destroy the House of Black and White and kill all the Faceless Men within,” Visenya said rather forcefully. Her son had miraculously survived an assassination attempt by a Faceless Man. Not even Daemion could boast of that, as no assassin ever got close.
“Such a blatant attack on Braavos will surely lead to war. You will attack the House of Black and White while I hit the Braavosi arsenal. You will cripple their death cult and I will cripple their fleet,” Maegor gave a counter demand and Visenya was taken aback. As if struck in the face.
“Are you daft! Look at you! You can barely stand!” Visenya’s rage was returning now. The same stubbornness that possessed both herself and Aegon in their youth was rearing its ugly head within Maegor.
“Good thing I sit atop my dragon,” Maegor began and earned a fierce, rage-filled glare from Visenya. ‘Now is not the time for jokes!’ Visenya thought with a red-hot fury.
“No, you are in no condition to fly. Your wounds would reopen and you would bleed out atop your dragon. I will burn all of Braavos, end this whole farce…” Visenya spoke in the most stern tone her tired body could manage.
“No, do not burn all of Braavos,” Maegor said and both Visenya and Shiera looked at him as if he was mad.
“Death is a fate too kind for the cowards. No, what they deserve is to live the rest of their lives on their knees.” A fire seemed to return to Maegor’s eyes and Visenya smiled at the sight. He was thinking like a conqueror, like he should. Even if his actions would no doubt prolong the war.
Maegor dispelled his fiery glare before turning to his wife. “While she is gone, we will shore up our position here, did you notice anything strange about Illyrio?” he asked intently, Visenya got the message, placed Daeron down, and checked her armor.
“He looked fine to me,” Shiera said with a little uncertainty. Confirming who was and was not a Faceless Man would be a daunting challenge.
“Then we will work to implement Lord Daemion’s policies within the walls of this manse. I will also draft a letter for Aeron, and tell him to bring the army from Ghoyan Drohe and implement the same reforms,” Maegor said, seemingly rejuvenated. He was clearly unhappy that he could not exact his vengeance forthwith but ready for war all the same.
“Then I must go, I am wasting precious daylight,” Visenya said as she finished checking herself, ensuring that her mail and light plate remained sturdy and ready for action.
“Stay safe, Your Grace,” Shiera blurted out, with Maegor following suit just after.
“Of course, I will not allow the cowardly Braavosi to kill me,” Visenya said with a cocksure smile. The prospect of war lighting her blood aflame once more. It had been far too long since her precious Vhagar got to use her great bronze flames.
Comments
Arcturus
As for war plan, I see a few following steps: 1. Obviously Visenya and Vhagar destroy White-Black House and Arsenal as two the most important objects of braavosy defense. Also would be good to full destroy of Titan because it's literally fortress which block Braavos from see. And Purple Harbor as base of their fleet with other docks and barracks of seamen 2. Aethan mobilize cavalry of Black Army and auxiliary dothrakis to annihilate everything on border and inner lands of Braavos, would be good to make population run in city to break moral and increase number of mouths which need feed 3. Cavalry could block border fortresses till foot men coming from Andalos amd Pentos, and wait dragons to fast destroying them without sieges or storming. Just pure destruction of garrisons of Braavos land forces. 4. With Fleet of Pentos and sellsails from other cities, destroy remaining of Braavos' fleet near Braavosian Coastland or near city to prevent them from escape ir getting help from Lorath or other place. 5. Threatening Lorath and other cities that if them try help Braavos they would be annihilate, because it's inner business between Dragon and Titan who unprovoked attack Maegor 6. After making full blockade from sea and land, demand unconditional surrender from Sealord and Council with following contributions, becoming Protectorate of Pentos, reducing fleet, lands and following things. Execution of Sealord, all who vote for attacking Maegor, leadership of military, Iron Bank and all Faceless men. Otherwise total destruction of Braavos and its people without mercy P.S Yes that's cruel and inhuman at all, but other than so this problem can't be solved P.P.S I think after this war, Maegor would get his original moniker even in other circumstances🤔🤦♂️
Bobby Hill
BURN THEM ALL!
