Once the battle of the gullet had come to an end, and Elia had made sure every last boat had been torn to nothing but splinters, Nettles and Addam returned to Dragonstone with their dragons. Whilst Elia landed Cannibal and Phoenix on the Dragonmont overlooking the sea that was strewn with wreckage.
Her purple eyes were no longer the beauty of violet they'd once been. After witnessing her brothers death, they dulled into a bleak grey colour, the underneath of her eyes holding the forming of dark rings already. The Queen was falling into a deep pit of grief and weakness, she couldn't tell whether she wished to fight on and avenge all that was stolen from her, or if she only wished to give up.
The Queen jumped off from Cannibal's saddle and not even a heartbeat after her feet hit the ground, she dropped to her knees. Her throat was stinging and tight, her stomach in a deep knot as she fought not to take her own life while she had some sort of sanity left in her. She knew, if she survived this grief, there'd be no turning back, and she hated the thought of knowing she was losing her mind.
Tears spilled heavy from her dull eyes and ran over her dust and ash covered skin. With a heave of her mourning chest, she let out a terrible cry of anguish, feeling nothing but helpless. Could she have saved his life? Maybe if Aemond had accompanied her Jace would still be alive. Her mind was running ramped as every single thought turned on her self blame.
Cannibal and Phoenix let out soft chirps of comfort as they lay beside their rider who continued to cry out. Jacaerys was gone, she'd lost another dear brother, and was it all her fault?
The night was freezing and pitch black, the only light illuminated the sky was the moon, which glowed weaker than usual.
Elia's skin turned purple as the nights chill attacked violently at her body, but she didn't care, she could hardly notice, all she could feel was grief, and pain. Her dragons lay themselves close to her in an attempt to keep her warm, but they couldn't prevent the frozen breeze to sweep across the Queens skin.
Elia remained in that spot the entirety of the night, and into the early morning. Not once did she tear her eyes away from the ocean, in the exact spot her brother and his dragon had been taken asunder. She felt like if she just kept her eyes there and prayed, that Jacaerys would somehow re-emerge unharmed, but this never happened of course, and it never would.
Aemond had grown worried for his wife and had set out early that morning to search for her after she'd not returned to Dorne. It didn't take him long to reach the Gullet, where he found Elia kneeling over the cliffside of the Dragonmont that faced out to the wreckage from the battle. Cannibal and Phoenix made it easy to spot them.
Astride Vhagar and with Grey Ghost flying at his side, Aemond landed him and his dragons down on the cliff side with her.
Vhagar shook the ground as she landed, but even with this, Elia did not look away from the ocean, her eye rings becoming darker by the hour, with tears streaming over them.
Aemond quickly approached his wife and grabbed her shoulder gently as his knelt at her side. "You had me so worried.." he said, trailing off as he noticed her face, strewn with tears, dull eyes, dark rings, pale-purplish skin and ash covered.
Elia was so incredibly numb that she didn't even feel Aemond's touch, nor could her ears register his voice correctly.
Seeing his wife in such a state of mental collapse caused tears to form in Aemond's eyes, which was almost impossible for him to comprehend. He hadn't cried since the night he'd lost his eye. Aemond didn't need to speak to his wife for her to know he was there for her, all that was required was to simply be at her side.
The pair remained in that exact spot an hour longer before Aemond knew best to return to Dorne so Elia could rest. She wouldn't speak or even look his way the entire flight back, she was too broken.
Her reaction to Jacaerys death was very different to that of when Lucerys died. When Lucerys died, she felt nothing but anger, and a need for revenge, she didn't spill many tears for him. However with Jacaerys, she cried, and cried, and felt nothing but sorrow and heart break, and weakness.
Perhaps it was because she had someone to blame in Lucerys death, whereas Jacaerys could have been saved, given Elia had been more aware of the danger that still surrounded them. The thought of Vermax being brought down hadn't even occurred in her mind as she was sure with the might of Seasmoke, Cannibal, Phoenix and Sheepstealer at the Princes side, everything would be fine.
The Queens first mistake was underestimating her enemy, and having done so had cost her the life of her precious brother, who would have become her heir once the war was won. She believed Jacaerys to be a good ruler, perhaps even a better than her, maybe even better than the old king Jahaerys himself.
The three dragons landed back on the outskirts of the Sunspear palace, where Tide Breaker and Grey Ghost had been awaiting their return. Both smaller dragons let out chirps of excitement when their riders returned, though they soon quietened when they sensed the sorrow Elia was carrying with her.
The Queen slipped from her dragons saddle and turned quickly on her heels toward the castle, leaving behind Aemond who was yet to dismount Vhagar. Once inside the palace, Elia went straight for her chambers, ignoring the guards whom had greeted her, as well as Cregan and Willem who'd tried to ask if she okay.
Elia opened her chambers doors and quickly stepped inside before kicking them shut behind her and falling to her knees, finally allowing herself to sob again for her brother now that she was in the privacy of her room.
And there she remained, hidden away not to be disturbed for an entire fortnight, only having the occasional visit from Aemond to force her to eat supper so she would not waste away. Though of course she would eat no more than a few bites before growing tired and sending him away.
That same fortnight later, in the Reach, Ormund Hightower found himself caught between two armies. Thaddeus Rowan, Lord of Goldengrove, and Tom Flowers, Bastard of Bitterbridge, were bearing down on him from the northeast with a great host of mounted knights, whilst Ser Alan Beesbury, Lord Alan Tarly, and Lord Owen Costayne had joined their power to cut off his retreat to Oldtown.
When their hosts closed around him on the banks of the river Honeywine, attacking front and rear at once, Lord Hightower saw his lines crumble. Defeat seemed imminent...until a shadow swept across the battlefield, and a terrible roar resounded overhead, slicing through the sound of steel on steel. A dragon had come.
The dragon was Tessarion, the Blue Queen, cobalt and copper. On her back rode the youngest of Queen Alicent's three sons, Daeron Targaryen, fifteen, Lord Ormund's squire, that same gentle and soft-spoken lad who had once been milk brother to Prince Jacaerys.
The arrival of Prince Daeron and his dragon reversed the tide of battle. Now it was Lord Ormund's men attacking, screaming curses at their foes, whilst the queen's men fled. By day's end, Lord Rowan was retreating north with the remnants of his host, Tom Flowers lay dead and burned amongst the reeds, the two Alans had been taken captive, and Lord Costayne was dying from a wound given him by Bold Jon Roxton's black blade, the Orphan-Maker. As wolves and ravens fed upon the bodies of the slain, Ormund Hightower feasted Prince Daeron on aurochs and strongwine, and dubbed him a knight with the storied Valyrian longsword Vigilance, naming him 'Ser Daeron the Daring.'
The prince modestly replied, "My lord is kind to say so, but the victory belongs to Tessarion.
Although the battle Tessarion and Daeron had fought in was against Rhaenyra's forces, word quickly reached Dorne, intent on having Elia's ears a-tuned to the loss her mother was suffering from not only the battle, but also Jacaerys death. However not long after news was carried to Dorne about Tessarion and Prince Daerons incredible victory, Queen Elia's insider on Dragonstone had sent word of Rhaenyra's plans of attack. The message spoke of Rhaenyra planning to rain fire and death upon Aegon and all those that supported him, saying that she would "Tear Aegon from the Iron Throne, or die trying."
Aemond clutched the letter from Mysaria in his hand as he made his way through the hallway toward Elia's chambers. The Sapphire Queen was yet to read the new information on The Blacks next move.
He didn't bother to knock at the doors, he knew if he did so, Elia would only ignore it. He pushed open the doors and stepped inside Elia's chambers. The Sapphire Queen stood in the same spot she always did; at the balcony overlooking the sea.
The Queen had since become sickly and weak, her body was thin, almost holding nothing but skin and bone, her hair was matted and uncared for and her eyes were darkened and bleak in colour.
Aemond hated seeing her in such a state and would try not to look at her if he could help it, the sight of her would only cause his stomach to twist. She was no longer the sight of beauty and strength she'd once been.
"A letter from Mysaria." Aemond said as he approached his wife.
She turned around slowly and faced him, but as she did so, Aemond could only look away. The king consort held the rolled paper out for her to take, which she did with frail hands.
The Queen opened the letter and scanned over the words quickly before closing it again. "My mother wishes to take the Iron Throne." She said, her voice hoarse and weak.
Aemond nodded, "What do you want us to do?" He asked.
"Let her take the throne, she won't hold it long." She said, taking a pause to catch her breathe. "My mother is not the threat, no more than Rowan and these traitors in the Reach. The danger is my stepfather Daemon and his dragon Caraxes. Once he's dealt with, all these fools flying my mothers banners will run back to their castles and trouble us no more." She explained.
Aemond frowned, "You wish to kill Daemon?" He asked.
Supremely confident with Aemond's prowess as a warrior and the might of his Dragon, Vhagar and the support of Grey Ghost, Elia was sending him off in her stead. "I'm too weak to even think of attempting to battle my Stepfather, I'd never be able to stay clung to my saddle, nor would Cannibal respond to the weakness of my voice." She explained, "You will go, astride Vhagar and accompanied by Grey Ghost and the Stark army. This shall ensure your victory."
Sure, Caraxes was a fearsome beast, savage and cunning and battle-tested, but Vhagar was older, fiercer, and twice as large.
"With Daemon gone, you'll eliminate the mummers farce retaliating in Harrenhal and we shall hold a portion of the Riverlands." She said.
Aemond nodded, a smirk playing on his lips, pleased with this plan and eager to carry out her orders, for he had been waiting a long time to slay the famous Rogue Prince. "Victory shall be mine, as well as Daemons head mounted on a spike." He promised.
True to his resolve, the king consort rode forth from the Gate of Sunspear within a fortnight, at the head of a host four thousand strong. "Sixteen days march to Harrenhal," Aemond proclaimed. "On the seventeenth, we will feast inside Black Harren's hall, whilst my uncle's head looks down from my spear." He announced to the Stark Army marching with him.
Obedient to his Queens command, Cregan Stark, Lord of Winterfell, rode at the head of his army, beneath the shadow of Vhagar who flew overhead. The Stark force poured down out of the western hills, descending with all their power upon the Red Fork and the heart of the riverlands. The Lords of the Trident had no choice but to turn and meet them.
Daemon Targaryen was too old and seasoned a battler to sit idly by and let himself be penned up inside walls, even walls as massive as Harrenhal's. The prince had friends in Dorne, and word of his nephew's plans had reached him even before Aemond had set out. When told that Aemond and Lord Cregan Stark had left Dorne, it is said Prince Daemon laughed and said, "Past time." for he had long anticipated this moment.
A murder of ravens took flight from the twisted towers of Harrenhal.
On the Red Fork, Lord Cregan Stark found himself facing the Lord of Pinkmaiden, old Petyr Piper, and the Lord of Wayfarer's Rest, Tristan Vance. Though the westermen outnumbered their foes, the riverlords knew the ground.
Thrice the Starks tried to force the crossing, and thrice they were driven back; in the last attempt, Lord Cregan was dealt a terrible wound at the hand of a grizzled squire, Pate of Longleaf. (Lord Piper himself knighted the man afterward, dubbing him Longleaf the Wolfslayer.) Though this was out of complete arrogance, as Lord Cregan Stark was yet to be taken down by a mere squire. The fourth Stark attack carried the fords, however; this time it was Lord Vance who fell, slain by Ser Cassian Beckett, who had taken command of the western host. Beckett and a hundred picked knights stripped off their heavy armor and swam the river upstream of the battle, then circled about to take Lord Vance's lines from the rear.
The ranks of the riverlords shattered, and the westermen came swarming across the Red Fork by the thousands.
Meanwhile, Prince Daemon Targaryen himself hastened south on the wings of his dragon, Caraxes. Flying above the western shore of the Gods Eye, well away from Lord Cregan's line of march, he evaded the enemy host, crossed the Blackwater, then turned east, following the river downstream to King's Landing. And on Dragonstone, Rhaenyra Targaryen donned a suit of gleaming black scale, mounted Syrax, and took flight as a rainstorm lashed the waters of Blackwater Bay.
High above the city the black queen and her prince consort came together, circling over Aegon's High Hill. The sight of them incited terror in the streets of the city below, for the smallfolk were not slow to realize that the attack they had dreaded was at last at hand. With King Aegon abed, with his dragon Sunfyre's to wounded and absent to defend the city, and Ser Criston and his men to little a force had denuded King's Landing of defenders. Leaving only Dreamfyre and a handful of half-grown hatchlings to oppose the queen's dragons. The young dragons had never been ridden, and Dreamfyre's rider, Queen Helena, was a broken woman; the city had as well been Dragonless.