Alysanne took a deep breath, enjoying the chilly air of Dragonstone. It was morning, and the eastern sun was rising on the horizon. A slight dew hung loosely in the air. The sea sang its melody as the waves kissed the island's shores.
Her eyes looked east, where the sky and sea met on the horizon. In some far away distance, her daughter was safe from the cruel whispers and rumours of the royal court. That knowledge gave her a sense of peace.
One by one, Westeros took her daughters. Only Saera survived, and she forced herself not to think about the hardships her daughter went through to build a life in Volantis. But at least she could rest easy in knowing that Saera was among the living.
There were rumours that Saera had children with a Triarch of Volantis. But she couldn't confirm the veracity of such claims.
'I'll have to send word to Aegon to see whether the rumours are true.' Alysanne mused.
If her daughter Saera had children of her own, they needed to be reached out. The sad fact was she didn't even know their names. She'd at least like to send a letter to her grandchildren before she passed away. It was also her heartfelt wish to see Saera one last time before her time came.
She hoped dearly for her daughter to reach out to Aegon once word reached Volantis. If not, she could always ask Aegon and Gael to reach out to Saera.
The door behind her opened with a bang.
"Do you know what you have done? Do you understand the shame your actions have brought upon our family?"
Alysanne paid her husband no mind and merely gazed at the rising sun. She sighed almost wistfully as the warm orange rays of the sun peppered her skin with warmth while ignoring her husband. She knew Jaehaerys had arrived early in the morning. She was informed the moment his ship arrived at the harbour by the servants.
"Alysanne!" Jaehaerys thundered.
"Don't shout too much, husband. I won't be held responsible if you keel over and die while shouting at me in my solar." Alysannes said with a scoff.
She plucked a brush from her nightstand and brushed her hair while keeping her eyes on the horizon. Her husband could strut around, huff, puff and shout, but she wouldn't be intimidated in the least. The blood of the dragon ran in her veins the same as her husband's, and his dismissive attitude towards her and the women in the family was no longer tolerable. She had lost most of her daughters to the callous plans of her husband and his Small Council.
The time when she easily caved into his demands was long over.
She had taken her time and moulded her grandson to her whims so he'd one day do what she wanted. Aegon performed better than she had hoped, and her daughter was safe in Essos. Her plan had come to fruition, and there was little her husband could do to undo what had happened.
Of course, she never meant for any dislike to fester between Aegon and Baelon, but that blame rested solely on her idiotic son's shoulder. She loved Baelon dearly, but sometimes he reminded her too much of her husband.
"I will bring back Aegon and Gael." Jaehaerys said with gritted teeth.
"Good luck in your ventures, husband. I wish you the best on your trip to Pentos." Alysanne said dismissively.
"I will not be the one to travel to Pentos. I have decided to send Viserys and Daemon to bring them back to King's Landing."
Alysanne didn't deign to reply to her husband's comment and instead continued combing her hair.
"I have decided to give my blessing to their marriage and Gael's claim over Dreamfyre."
"I'm sure they'll be thrilled to know they have your approval." she said sarcastically.
"Why are you doing this, Alysanne? Why do you challenge me every step of the way?" Jaehaerys asked in a calmer tone.
"There have been many instances where I warned you repeatedly not to interfere with my daughter's life. But you never listened. I had no choice but to take matters into my own hands."
"Take matters into your own hands?" Jaehaerys asked incredulously, "How is it safe for Aegon and Gael to live in Pentos instead of Dragonstone or King's Landing?"
"They're safe in more ways than you can ever know, husband. The greatest danger my daughter faces is from this land. In Pentos, she'll be safe, and she has Aegon by her side to protect her." said Alysanne.
Jaehaerys let out a frustrated yell before storming out of her solar.
Alysanne scoffed as she continued brushing her hair. Her husband could throw all the tantrums that he wanted, and he could send even the gods to do his bidding, but she was confident Aegon would not break his word. Aegon might love his siblings dearly, but his hate for Baelon was such it triumphed over everything. This could've been mitigated if Jaehaerys had listened to her advice and controlled Baelon's behaviour.
But, like always, her words fell on deaf ears. Her husband couldn't see past his self-importance ever since he became too obsessed with the power the Iron Throne granted him.
'And the idiots in the mainland call him the Conciliator.' Alyssane thought with a snort.
*****
Ser Reginald Reyne kept a close eye on the Red Priests he was escorting with the rest of the sellswords in their fledgling sellsword company, the Dragonshields. He didn't trust these fire-worshippers with a potato, much less the wife of his prince. But he was forced to watch from a respectable distance as Princess Gael was surrounded by the infernal Red Priestess and her entourage.
He couldn't say anything outright regarding the proximity of these foreign priests and priestesses because they were out here in the Flatlands guarding the pilgrimage of the Red Priests. The Red God's followers were leading a religious procession towards one of their holy sites in the Flatlands. He didn't know why they couldn't just do one in the Red Temple of Pentos, but he wasn't going to make a fuss because this was the first contract Prince Aegon negotiated on behalf of the Dragonshields.
He had advised the prince against forming a sellsword company. As a knight, he couldn't allow himself to fight for gold and abhorred such people.
In his eyes, they had no honour. Yet, here he was, at the helm of a sellsword company his prince created in Pentos, training with some of these swords for hire. His sense of honour clashed with the necessity of doing so, creating a storm of conflict within him.
As a knight, it was important that if he took a sword into his hands, it was for a worthy cause, not for gold.
But he found himself at the helm of a sellsword company his prince created in Pentos. He found himself training with some of these swords for hire. Though his sense of honour abhorred mingling with such honourless cur, he understood the necessity of doing so.
"I know what you're thinking. We need the gold and silver to survive if we're to remain politically independent from Pentos." said Aegon.
"I know my prince. But I suspect that is not the only reason you want to form a sellsword company. After all, there are other ways to make a living." Reginald pointed out.
"You're right. I just got this feeling that it'd be advantageous to have some experience in warfare." said Aegon as they sat close to their horses while taking a break from their journey.
"You realise that you'll bring undue scrutiny from other Free Cities for forming a sellsword company." Reginald said as he cleaned his sweaty face with water.
"It is inevitable no matter what I do." Aegon shrugged. "They won't ignore two dragons and their riders no matter what. It is better this way. They should think we can be bought with coin instead of manipulating us or sending hired knives to do their bidding."
Reginald still didn't like it one bit. But his duty was never to question his prince but to obey. He was blessed, however, to have the freedom to advise the prince, and he had done that task admirably in his mind.
For that, he was grateful.
"I still don't know why these fire-worshippers have their temple all the way out here. They have one inside the walls of Pentos." Reginald muttered, glaring at the Red Priests strutting around in their ungodly red garbs.
He hated these foreigners, especially their penchant for trying to smother Princess Gael with their oily compliments and ridiculous traditions.
"The Flatlands are fertile land where the magisters hold acres of farmlands. They have rich vineyards and other plantations in these lands. The Pentoshi have kept their farmlands safe by giving expensive gifts to Dothraki Khalassar."
"Why don't they continue the practice then?" Reginald asked.
"The Dothraki horselords are hostile to the Red Priests. Lately, those gifts have also become too expensive for the Pentoshi to afford."
"I can see why those horselords dislike the Red Priests." Reginald muttered with a cross look. "I don't like them mingling with the princess."
"Gael has never known anything outside of the Red Keep except for Dragonstone. The Queen made sure she never got exposed to the world. Gael is seeing all of this for the first time, and she is naturally curious about everything and everyone in the absence of the queen's towering shadow." said Aegon with a pinched look as he looked at his wife, mingling with the Red Priests.
"Maybe we should think of asking for some ladies of noble birth from Westeros to serve as companions to the princess. Or better yet, we should seek a septa from the Starry Sept. I'm sure the Faith would be honoured to send…"
"No!" Aegon said immediately, making Reginald widen his eyes in surprise.
"But my prince, the Faith…" Reginald started, but the prince cut him off again with a firm look.
"Are you out of your mind, Ser? I'm not an idiot to call a septa from the Starry Sept to Pentos where slavery is practised." Aegon said with a scoff. "I have no interest in starting a religious conflict in Pentos."
"Surely you exaggerate, my prince. One septa wouldn't cause religious turmoil in Pentos." said Reginald.
"Maybe not." Aegon admitted, "But I'm not interested in taking such a risk. The chances of creating unnecessary enemies are high."
Reginald let the matter drop for the moment. However, he noticed Prince Aegon was not opposed to finding a lady companion for Princess Gael from one of the loyal houses of Westeros. He made a note in his mind to breach the subject once more with the prince.
'Perhaps some of the Narrow Sea lords could send women from their families to accompany the princess. Or better yet, I could ask Roger to send one of our own to Pentos.' Reginald mused.
But that was in the distant future. He still held out hope that King Jaehaerys would set things right and invite Prince Aegon and Princess Gael back to King's Landing. The sweltering heat of Pentos did not agree with him and pined after the sweet, frigid air of Westeros.
But he was digressing. There were other important matters that needed his attention.
"My prince, may I send some scouts ahead to search the land ahead. If the Red Priests are to be trusted, a small Khalassar under Khal Fharyar has been seen prowling these lands and terrorising nearby villages. Perhaps we should..."
"There is no need. I had sent scouts ahead long before we started the journey from Pentos." Aegon said, making Reginald's eyes widen in surprise.
"But... my prince. All our men are accounted for." Reginald said with a confused look.
He had personally counted the numbers before departing from Pentos. There was no way any scouts could be sent without his knowledge.
"As a matter of fact, my scouts have just returned."
Reginald could only frown more at his prince as his charge was not making much sense.
"My prince? I do not understand." Reginald said, utterly confused, as he could see no scouts arriving at their camp.
It was a pretty simple affair to see if any riders arrived at their camp. After all, their camp was temporary, and they were taking a break to nourish themselves with water from a nearby pond.
Suddenly, Reginald froze partially in fright as his prince held out his hand to the grass on the ground and a green-scaled snake slithered into the prince's hand. The snake was thin, the size of a finger and as long as an arm. His hand fell on the dagger holstered by his waist to strike at the snake.
"Don't take that dagger, Ser. This one is friendly." Prince Aegon said with a pointed look.
Reginald eyed his prince and then the snake. He let out a shaky breath he was holding and released the hold on the dagger's hilt. He was then witness to a bizarre event where Prince Aegon was hissing at the snake, and the snake was hissing back.
He stared between the snake and the prince with a befuddled look as they hissed back and forth. At some point, they stopped, and the prince lowered his arm to the ground so the snake could slither away into the grass. It was surreal to witness the whole event, and Reginald struggled to comprehend what just happened before his eyes.
"Khal Fharyar is on the move. Have the men prepared to march out." Prince Aegon ordered.
"My prince, I don't understand…" Reginald eyed his prince with his mouth agape.
"I can hold fire in the palm of my hands and ride the fiercest creature in the world. You are surprised I can now talk to a snake?" Prince Aegon asked with an amused grin.
"Well…" Reginald rubbed the back of his head with a confused look. "…when you say it like that… I suppose…"
"Keep this between ourselves for the moment. I haven't told anyone else."
"Of course, my prince." Reginald readily nodded
Reginald shook his head at the strange skills of his prince. The Queen used to say Prince Aegon was gifted. He used to think the queen was exaggerating a little bit, but as of the past few months, he was starting to see the truth of the matter.
'The gods have certainly blessed Prince Aegon.' Reginald thought as he joined the prince to prepare the men for a long march.
He was quick to gather all eight hundred men with the sixteen officers in their fledgling sellsword company. Eight hundred men were not a number enough to bring the fear of the gods into the minds of their enemies. Reginald knew this, but then again, he didn't want the Dothraki barbarians to fear the men under his command. For that, there was the nimble Dreamfyre and the colossal Fiendfyre.
He arranged the men in neat eight columns in preparation for their march. When they finally had a sense of order to his satisfaction, he turned his horse so that he was facing the company of men.
"We ride east as fast as possible, and it's our hope that we'll catch the Dothraki by surprise on their back. But we won't be attacking them headfirst, and we'll not be revealing our position to the Khalassar. We scour for any scouts and eliminate them along the way." Reginald ordered.
The men smacked their spears and swords against their shields, acknowledging the order.
"Leave the Khalassar to Prince Aegon." Reginald nodded at the prince, who mounted his dragon.
"Fire and Blood!" Prince Aegon shouted with his fist raised.
"Fire and Blood!" Reginald shouted with the men as they raised the purple three-headed dragon standard.
Reginald nodded at Jon Tarth, who was standing beside Princess Gael. Princess Gael and her dragon stayed with the procession, and Jon Tarth remained behind to guard the princess.
"Do not leave her side." Reginald ordered before he broke away from the procession.
"You have my word, Ser." said Jon.
He nodded at the Tarth boy one last time before turning his horse towards their destination. Prince Aegon's dragon took to the sky with a couple of mighty flaps of its wings. It was now time to test the mettle of the Dragonshields on the battlefield.
*****
Harmenen Makaero stared grimly into the distance as his servants ran around in his manse in utter chaos. Usually, he'd have taken the whip and taught his slaves some discipline, but this was one of those times where the whip would do harm to him more than to the slaves. After all, he wanted his servants and slaves to ensure his manse remained unbreachable, for there was a barbarian horde riding towards them in the distance.
He drained the last drops of wine from his cup and held it out to the servant standing behind him.
"More." Harmenen demanded.
As the servant refilled his cup, his eyes remained pinned on the Dothraki horde riding straight for his estate in the distance. His modest estate in the Flatlands supplied tons of wheat, onion, potatoes, spices and many other edible fruits and vegetables. Right now, all of that was in jeopardy because of the barbarian horde riding towards his estate with the intent to burn, rape and kill.
"Dothraki scum." Harmemen muttered with a scowl.
It was not just his farm that would get affected. The slaves he had on his estate would also be affected by the coming raid. The Dothraki killed those they liked, took the women they wanted to fuck and took the children as slaves in their Khalassar. Once the raid was over, he'd be left with burnt farmland and short of hundreds of slaves. He'd be forced to buy a new batch of slaves from the city and train them in the art of farming. That was going to be expensive and time-consuming.
He couldn't help but curse his father for leaving him with this piece of land as his inheritance instead of the lands close to the city, which now rests in his brother's hands.
"Master, your wine." A servant held out the refilled cup.
"The Red Priests told me that there was a bountiful harvest this year. They told me the Red God would bring great wealth and prestige to my lands. Is this what wealth and prestige look like?" Harmenen muttered darkly.
The Dothraki horses came upon his lands with thundering hooves. Their warriors screamed and hollered atop their horses, signalling the arrival of the Khalassar and their intent to pillage the lands to their heart's content. Then suddenly, Harmenen stood witness to a strange sight. The Dothraki horses stopped at the edge of his estate while his slaves working in the fields ran for cover in all directions.
His experience with the past Dothraki raids was slightly different. The Flatlands had never tried to resist the Dothraki hordes in his living memory. The Dothraki had always raped, burned and pillaged the lands without any inhibition. The Dothraki riders made sport of killing the fleeing slave workers in the farmlands, and he was forced to pick up the remains when the barbarian horde went away after their fun.
But for the first time, he stood witness to the Dothraki horde stopping at the edge of his wheat fields.
"Why did they stop?" Harmenen asked in confusion.
"Master, look!" his servant shouted, pointing westward.
Harmenen squinted his eyes and looked to the south. His eyes widened at what he saw, and not a moment later, he heard the roar of the colossal dragon.
His mouth dropped open, and he looked on in disbelief as a colossal black dragon swept into his lands from the sky and set the Dothraki horde ablaze. A tall plume of purple flames consumed the lines of the Dothraki Khalassar in the blink of an eye. The distant rumbling sound of the Dothraki horses was now replaced by the cries and screams of the barbarian horde as dragonfire swept them away.
Slowly, a wide smile started to stretch on his face as the massive black dragon circled around and breathed another long line of flames on the barbarians, turning them into ash. A shiver passed through him at the sight but his excitement was palpable.
'This is the natural order of things. Dragons at the very top and the dragons' daughters thriving under their watchful gaze.' Harmenen thought with self-assured satisfaction.
"So, the rumours were true. The city now hosts a Targaryen prince." Harmenen muttered, the corners of his mouth stretching into a growing smile.
"More wine." he shouted, this time with a massive grin. "It seems we have cause for a celebration."
He sat back on a couch and watched the demise of the savages that plagued his lands. Their terrified screams drowned out all the rest and he intend to enjoy the spectacular view of as long as it lasted.
*****
Aegon felt the thrill of battle, but more than that, he felt like he was the wheel of fate looking down upon the broken mortals. The power that he felt upon his dragon as he brought fire and blood upon his enemies gave him a rush that set his blood aflame. He could feel his blood thrum in his veins. It felt like wings were about to sprout from his shoulders and he could fly away.
The rush of emotions was such whenever Fiendfyre made a pass over the Dothraki and breathed fire, he let out a whoop of joy.
It was like becoming the personification of death. He didn't know whether this was why his namesake thought to conquer the Seven Kingdoms. But he wouldn't be surprised if that was the case. The feeling of invulnerability was quite strong within him.
Aegon tugged sharply at the ropes tied to the huge left horn on Fiendfyre's head. The black dragon let out a low growl and banked sharply to the left.
"Dive."
He felt the weight of the sky as the force bearing down on his body while Fiendfyre went on a steep dive. The air whistled past his ears, his eyes stung, and he could feel a thrum of power emanating from the great beast of death and destruction he rode.
In that one moment, he felt like he understood Fiendfyre. It was like he felt their hearts become one and beat as one.
He was also quite thankful for the Dothraki raiders to line themselves neatly on the ground. It made his work easier.
The barbarians gathered together and released their arrows from horseback. Unfortunately for them, their inexperience in fighting against dragons made them think their arrows could harm Fiendfyre.
They learned the hard way that arrows were useless against dragons. Their pitiful arrows simply broke on contact with the thick scales of Fiendfyre.
"Dracarys." Aegon shouted while pulling on the left and right horns using ropes.
Fiendfyre stretched his wings and gathered all the air in his wing membranes. Aegon braced for the whiplash that came while holding onto the harness. Fiendfyre opened his maw wide and breathed the simmering hot purple flames into the Dothraki horde.
Screams rose to a new pitch as the Dothraki barbarians were instantly turned into ashes while those who survived scatters in all directions to save themselves from a fiery death.
He gave no respite to his enemies, just like they showed no mercy to the villages of the land.
As Fiendfyre stopped breathing fire, he made his mount circle back and set the fleeing horselords aflame once more. The green grasslands were set aflame in dark purple dragon fire. The Dothraki screams filled the sky as they died in the flames or just died from inhaling too much smoke.
"These grasslands are no longer yours to do as you wish. I am here, and you'll burn or kneel." Aegon whispered.
The winds took his words while carrying the ashes of the Dothraki Khalassar. In the distance, he saw his sellsword army riding into the storm of battle against the survivors. He circled the sky and observed as his sellsword army rode down the fleeing Dothraki, felling them with arrows and spears.
AN:
To read ahead of the update schedule;pat(r) eon. C (O) M/Dragonspectre
For artworks: https://discord.gg/Nw2JH25fJf