Red Keep ― Maegor's Holdfast...
"Nnnuh!" Aeonar groaned. The Young Dragon had been experiencing more intense pain and discomfort in the back of his head lately. Despite massaging his temples, the twitching and tugging on his nerves persisted. The Black Council had been tirelessly searching for the elusive Caltrop fugitives, with his chief agent, Farrier, following up on several leads. It seemed only a matter of time before they were found. Larys Strong, you are a more capable spymaster than I thought. But no matter. I still have eyes everywhere. Whatever you do, wherever you go, I will find you.
"If the Caltrops have any spies," Daemon mentioned, "then they would likely be few and hidden. Our main concern lies in the Westerlands and the Reach," he said as he placed pieces on the map.
"It is quite evident that Ser Tyland has been under the influence of the Caltrops for a considerable time, and it is highly probable that he has managed to sway his brother in his favor," expressed Rhaenyra, refraining from mentioning the fact that she firmly believed Lord Jason still harbored resentment towards her for rejecting his romantic advances in the past."
"Unwin has friends and relatives among the neighboring lords, which will benefit him. However, his primary source of strength is expected to come from the Dornish Marches."
Otto discreetly cleared his throat to draw attention. "I must clarify that Unwin lacks the complete support of the Reach. Oldtown stands with their rightful king," he stated, gesturing towards Aeonar.
"May I kindly inquire about House Tyrell, or has there been a change where House Hightower now holds the title of Wardens of the South?" Daemon asked directly, causing Otto to give him a disapproving look. However, before the Hand could respond, Alicent intervened and redirected the conversation.
"The current ruler of Highgarden is but a mere babe, wrapped tight in his swaddling clothes, with his mother serving as regent in his stead," Alicent stated matter-of-factly.
"What of Storm's End and Winterfell?" William Royce inquired.
"There has never lived a Stark who forgot an oath," Bartimos replied. "And with House Stark, the North will follow."
"But Storm's End will be of concern," Jaehaerys pointed at the map. "Grandfather," he turned to Otto, "we may not assume the loyalty of Lord Borros Baratheon. It is conceivable that he may still hold personal animosity towards father for the humiliating defeat he suffered in a duel against him sixteen years ago when Lord Boremund was still alive. However, from what I was able to gather, he does have four daughters, all of whom are currently unmarried. If we were to make the right proposal..."
Otto appeared to possess insight into his grandson's intentions. "It appears that you desire to propose a marriage alliance to appease Lord Borros and remind House Baratheon of its loyalty," he stated with a calculated approach. "Timing will be crucial. Who do you intend to designate as a potential suitor to Lord Borros's daughters?"
"My brothers Viserys and Daeron have yet to embark on seeking a suitable wife for themselves. I imagine our cousin Lucerys may also be considered if deemed appropriate. If the plan is to go smoothly, we must ensure this matter is handled with the utmost care and attention."
"I can handle it. Let me talk to Luke," Rhaenyra chimed in. "You focus on getting Viserys and Daeron on board with the plan, Jay. Viserys will understand the significance, but Daeron may need some... convincing."
"I understand, aunt Rhaenyra. He might grumble and complain, but he'll comply if the request comes from us."
"Perhaps we could have a gentle chat with Daeron, but let's be careful not to push him too much," Alicent proposed. It is worth noting that despite whatever motives may be at play, the fact remains that Daeron is still her youngest son - a mere boy thirteen years of age with an entire life ahead of him. While the queen would never condone using her children as pawns, her experiences have shown that alliances are often more advantageous when established through arranged marriages rather than brute force.
Farrier, accompanied by Ser Erryk, soon arrived. "Your Grace. My lord Hand," he said with urgency.
"We found them," Erryk reiterated. "A lone galleon, flying a banner of a three-headed orange dragon."
"The Caltrops have been spotted at Harrenhal near the Gods Eye. They also sent this," Farrier presented a scroll in hand. The scroll was adorned with a seal of orange wax that was carefully placed to ensure its confidentiality. The Master of Whisperers carefully watched as Aeonar broke the seal and read the scroll's contents with the utmost attention and scrutiny, ensuring that every word was thoroughly understood before sharing it with Otto, his father-in-law and Hand. Otto, too, read each word meticulously, taking in every detail with great care and attention. "They wish to parley with you under guest rights."
"A calculated move," William replied. Upon invoking the guest rights, a sacred covenant is established that prohibits harm from either the guest or host during the guest's stay. This ancient tradition is believed to be protected by the Old Gods and New and applies even to those with a history of criminal behavior. As such, the Caltrops have made the first move by invoking these laws of hospitality.
"Assemble a detachment, Otto," Aeonar said firmly. "Guest rights or not, we can't leave anything to― Ngh!" he stumbled, holding his head as the pain returned.
"Aeonar!" Alicent hurried to her husband's side.
"Father?"
Otto observed. "Give him something for the pain," he ordered before shifting his attention to his son-in-law. "My apologies, Your Grace, but I cannot allow you to go anywhere in your state. It's too dangerous. Let me go to Harrenhal in your stead," he offered.
"I'll have my scouts sight the skies," Daemon didn't bother waiting to reply as he quickly left the room, taking his Valyrian longsword, Dark Sister, with him.
"I'll come with you," Jaehaerys volunteered. He then became the recipient of his mother's worried gaze.
Alicent turned to her eldest son. "That would not be my desire, Jaehaerys," she said with a look of concern etched on her face. "You know how much your father and I care about your safety. If anything were to happen, I..." she trailed off.
"I assure you, mother, there is no cause for concern. I take full responsibility for ensuring the talks proceed smoothly and with the utmost respect toward all parties involved. I have to ensure that both grandfather and Daemon do not disrupt the proceedings in any way. You can rest assured that I will handle this situation with the utmost care and professionalism."
Alicent lovingly held her son close, relishing the reciprocal warmth of his embrace, before reluctantly watching him depart in the company of Otto and Daemon. Though Jaehaerys had matured into a capable young adult, married and poised to assume his role as the new Prince of Dragonstone, Alicent found it difficult to shake the image of the sweet, innocent child she had once carried in her womb. For a fleeting moment, she was transported back to those early days of motherhood, when the world was full of endless possibilities, and her son was the center of her universe. My little boy... Oh, dearest Mother Above, I pray to you, please keep him safe... A single tear made its way down the queen's cheek, leaving a trail of bittersweet sadness in its wake.
Despite the uncomfortable pain he was experiencing, Aeonar had a sense that trouble was looming. He suspected that his heir was unknowingly walking into a trap.
Harrenhal ― Near the Gods Eye...
The Seven Kingdoms proudly possess the most extensive inland body of water, known as the Gods Eye, located south of the Trident and west of the kingsroad. It is believed that when the water of the Gods Eye is warm, its color changes to blue and green, and it sparkles in the sunlight. However, during the winter, its water resembles cold steel, taking on a pewter hue. To its north lies the ruined castle of Harrenhal, which was once the seat of King Harren the Black of House Hoare but is now under the control of House Strong. Situated at the center of the Gods Eye is the Isle of Faces, a solitary island. On this island, the legendary Pact between the Children of the Forest and the First Men was formed. Although locals in the surrounding area occasionally attempt to sail across the Gods Eye to the Isle of Faces, they are frequently thwarted by harsh winds or flocks of ravens.
Otto, fully suited in armor complete with chainmail, donned a striking green cloak that draped elegantly over his broad shoulders. He was flanked by his loyal household guards and three brave Kingsguard knights, Erryk, Lorent, and Steffon, who marched in formation at his side. Jaehaerys, resplendent in the regal colors of the Targaryens, stood beside his maternal grandfather. Meanwhile, Daemon maintained his fierce and intimidating gaze, his eyes blazing with intensity as he surveyed the approaching crowd. Behind them, the dragons Vermithor and Caraxes lurked menacingly, their sharp senses alert to any signs of danger.
As Dowager Queen Beatrice and her father Lord Unwin Peake drew near, their vibrant orange attire caught the eye. With them came Aegon the Elder, his imposing figure topped with a magnificent red gold crown adorned with dragon heads. His sister-wife Helaena and their brother Aemond, both clad in regal dark orange, completed the entourage. Their Kingsguard consisted of the original, Criston Cole and Arryk Cargyll, but with new additions such as Mervyn Flowers, Unwin's bastard half-brother Marston Waters, Gyles Belgrave, Edmund Warrick, and Unwin's nephew Amaury Peake. Their attire spoke volumes of their unwavering loyalty to the powerful Caltrops. Alongside them were Lord Larys Strong, the incumbent ruler of Harrenhal, and their recent additions, Hugh Hammer and Ulf White.
"Let me guess: you must be Hugh Hammer. The dragonseed I heard so much about," Daemon mocked.
Hugh wielded his colossal war hammer and brought it down with a mighty force, causing the ground to quiver beneath him. "You best keep your trap shut if you know what's good for you," he cautioned with a menacing edge to his voice.
Jaehaerys maintained a tranquil demeanor, carefully evaluating Hugh Hammer with his discerning gaze. Observing his well-built frame, the youthful prince surmised that Hugh Hammer possessed considerable physical strength, capable of effortlessly bending and manipulating steel bars with his bare hands. However, gauging from his conversational tone, it became evident that his intellectual prowess wasn't on par with his physical abilities.
"Welcome to Harrenhal, my lords," Larys calmly greeted. His servants then arrived to provide each of them with trays of bread and salt. "On behalf of His Grace, King Aegon, Second of His Name, Lord and Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, we welcome you beneath our roof, and at our table. I extend to you our hospitality and our protection in the light of the Seven."
"Keep your bread and salt," Daemon dismissed the servants.
"Your assistance is not helping in this situation," Jaehaerys cautioned.
With a fierce stare, Beatrice confronted the Blacks' delegation. Her voice was icy calm as she spoke, "You've got some nerve showing up here, throwing my children out of their rightful homes." She paused, her eyes narrowing. "Where's your son-in-law, Otto? I don't see him. Is he too scared to leave the safety of his castle? Huh. He seems more like the mewling kitten than a dragon if he can't come himself."
"His Grace would never lower himself to entertain such a mummer's farce," Otto retorted.
"Stop it. You've already caused us enough embarrassment," Unwin scolded his daughter. He then turned to meet the delegation. "Ser Otto Hightower."
"Lord Unwin Peake. I come at the behest of the Queen Alicent, wife of King Aeonar, the First of His Name, rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."
"The same brother who stabbed me, sliced my cock off, and banished me to that frozen wasteland?!" Aegon seethed. "I'm not going back. And I will have justice for my mutilation."
"I don't think you're in any position to demand anything... Aegon Waters," Daemon said, amused.
"What did you just call me?!"
Jaehaerys held a hand up toward his great-uncle.
"Despite the time-consuming process, the crown has amassed sufficient evidence to disprove the legitimacy of Aegon the Elder," Otto provided the delegation of the Caltrops with a collection of documents that contained years' worth of records. Having a son-in-law who was once the realm's spymaster was indeed beneficial. "Before your marriage announcement with Viserys the Peaceful, there were reports of Dowager Queen Beatrice Peake being seen with Hugh Hammer in the Blue Pearl on more than one occasion. It is believed that during this time, a child was conceived and passed off as His Grace's trueborn son, leading to the need for a remarriage to avoid dishonoring House Peake. However, upon investigation, it was discovered that the time of conception between Aegon and Prince Jaehaerys did not align, nor did he share any of Viserys's features. Only one was a close resemblance, that man - Hugh Hammer. The truth was revealed that Aegon Targaryen was not of trueborn royalty nor a Targaryen, but a bastard born out of wedlock."
"I categorically reject these baseless accusations," declared Beatrice firmly, shaking her head in disbelief. "This is simply another attempt to launch a witchhunt against me and tarnish my reputation. I have done nothing wrong and stand by my integrity and honesty record."
Aemond's attention was keenly focused on the allegations being presented. If the claims were indeed accurate, it would mean that his elder brother was not legitimate, and subsequently, his nephew and niece were also bastards as well. This revelation would elevate Aemond's position in the line of succession, bringing him even closer to the Iron Throne. Interesting...
"Based on the events that transpired during the coup attempt, it appears that your actions may contradict your assertion," Jaehaerys responded in a manner that suggests a possible discrepancy between the claim and the demonstrated behavior. "But if you had any affection towards my late grandfather, King Viserys, as you have suggested, then it is imperative that you comprehend that armed conflict resolves nothing other than to exacerbate the misery of others. We ought to strive towards a settlement through negotiation. There's still sufficient time, Your Grace, for you and your family to reconsider your stance."
Beatrice remained silent, her expression betraying a sense of satisfaction that curled her lips into a sinister smirk. In the distance, a faint roar could be heard, accompanied by the thunderous footsteps of approaching creatures. As the Blacks looked up, they beheld the awe-inspiring sight of three dragons - Vhagar, Sunfyre, and Dreamfyre - bearing down upon them. With the Queen of All Dragons on their side, the Caltrops had established their dominance.
But that was not all. Hugh Hammer and Ulf White, now risen to become two formidable dragonriders themselves, had joined their ranks, swelling their forces with even more power. And then, emerging from behind them, came Seasmoke and Tessarion, the two dragons missing from the Dragonpit during the reconstruction. Daemon and Jaehaerys realized with a sense of awe that they were now opposed by the dragon once ridden by the late Ser Laenor Velaryon and the untamed Blue Queen. Tessarion, in particular, was a sight to behold; measuring 100 feet in length, her wings were dark cobalt, while her claws, crest, and belly scales shimmered like bright, beaten copper. Indeed, the Caltrops had increased the number of dragons at their disposal, which was nothing short of formidable.
"*Grrrrrrrrrr!*" each of the Caltrops' dragons growled.
"*Wurrrrrrr!*" Vermithor growled gutturally.
"*Reeeeeeeeee!*" Caraxes screeched menacingly.
"It's a trap," Daemon seethed.
"You're a madman," Otto accused.
"Now you are not in any position to be making demands," Aegon refuted mockingly.
"But we are not without mercy," Beatrice stated. "Acknowledge my son Aegon and swear allegiance to us."
"Lower your banners, and we shall offer you a fair exchange," Unwin offered. "Dragonstone will remain in your possession, Prince Jaehaerys, and the rest of your family will be welcome at our court as squires, scribes, and cupbearers. Your parents shall reside in the finest castles of their choosing, living out their days in comfort."
"As for those who drove us out, they will be granted a full pardon. However, should you refuse, we will have no choice but to end you, be it man, woman, or child."
"So, what do you say?" Aegon insisted.
Jaehaerys was an attentive listener. Having spent significant time at the royal court, he had developed a keen sense of discerning truth from lies. Aegon, Viserys, Aemma, Daeron... Jace, Luke, Joffrey... Baela, Rhaena... Father, mother... The memory of how Beatrice had dealt with his grandfather's remains was still vivid in his mind. He was fully aware that the Caltrops would never follow through on their commitments, considering their past actions.
"I would rather feed my sons to the dragons than have them carry shields and cups for your drunken, would-be usurper cunt of a brat," Daemon furiously declared.
Beatrice frowned deeply at the offense. "You not only refuse our hospitality but dare throw insults at us?" she accused.
"King Aeonar Targaryen, the First of His Name, in his wisdom and desire for peace, proposes a counteroffer," Otto stated. "His terms are: acknowledge Aeonar as the rightful king, inheritor of Viserys the Peaceful's will, and swear obeisance before the Iron Throne. In exchange, His Grace will permit House Peake to retain its holdings of Starpike, Dustonbury, and Whitegrove. It will pass through Ser Titus upon your death, Lord Unwin. Princess Helaena will be permitted to return to King's Landing and be betrothed to Prince Viserys, and her children by Aegon the Elder will be legitimized as trueborn Targaryens. They will also be given places of high honor at court: Jaehaerys as the king's squire, Jaehaera as the queen's lady-in-waiting. His Grace also offers a position for Prince Aemond in his Kingsguard as acknowledgment for his skills in battle. Finally, the king, in his good grace, will pardon any knight or lord who conspired against his ascent."
Jaehaerys will make one final attempt to convince them to see the logic. "In compliance with the reforms established by the Great Council of 101, the laws governing the right of inheritance, entailing direct succession from male to male, are unequivocal. As grandfather's firstborn son, my father is legally the rightful successor to the Iron Throne," he spoke calmly. "He wears the Conqueror's crown, wields the Conqueror's sword Blackfyre."
"He was anointed by a septon of the Faith before the eyes of thousands. Every symbol of legitimacy belongs to him. And then there is Stark, Tully, and Baratheon. Houses that have also received and are currently considering generous terms from their king.
"The Starks, Tullys, Baratheons, Arryns, Lannisters, Greyjoys, Tyrells, all Great Houses swore fealty to my father when King Viserys named him his heir twenty-seven years ago."
"Huh! Stale oaths don't put anyone on the throne, boy," Beatrice refused. As she moved closer, Erryk, Lorent, and Steffon quickly placed their hands on their sheaths to prevent the Dowager Queen from advancing any further. "Grand Maester," she called to Orwyle.
"What the fuck is this?" Daemon demanded.
Orwyle stepped forward, his voice hesitant yet resolute. "My prince, I implore you to consider this situation carefully," he said, directing to Jaehaerys. "Continuing to dispute the legitimacy of your grandfather's chosen heir benefits no one. Let us put our differences aside and move forward together," he reasoned, calmly yet firmly.
"Another one of your whore of a queen's lies. My brother was never one to change his mind. I have known Viserys all my life. And what you said only shows how low you're willing to stoop in your treason." Daemon glared at Beatrice, Unwin, Aegon, and Aemond. "Your bitch of a mother can have her answer right now, stuffed in her mouth along with a dragonseed's cock. Let's end this mummer's farce," he unsheathed Dark Sister.
As a sudden commotion erupted, all sides instinctively reached for their swords. Despite lacking the skill of a seasoned warrior, Aegon the Elder kept a firm grasp on his longsword, ready for whatever may come. Aemon, renowned for his prowess with the blade, aimed his weapon at Jaehaerys, who remained vigilant, protecting his maternal grandfather from harm. The Kingsguard from both the Blacks and Caltrops factions also stepped forward, drawing their swords against their once-sworn brothers, while the men-at-arms of each group stood ready to defend their respective sides. The tension in the air was palpable as the potential for violence hung heavily over them all. Each dragon from either side roared, rearing up for a vicious fight to defend their riders.
"I suppose we both knew it would come to this," Aemond sneered.
"Lower your sword and stand down, uncle," Jaehaerys cautioned coolly, his gaze fixed on his opponent. The tip of the king's sword was perilously grinding against the opposing steel. "I have no desire to fight you, but I will defend myself if you leave me no choice."
"That's what makes it so interesting. Here I am, ever the good soldier in service to a wastrel who we now know has no claim to anything nor ever taken half an interest in his once-believed birthright. 'Tis I the younger brother who studies history and philosophy; it is I who trains with the sword, who rides the largest dragon in the world. It is I who should be..."
"The matter at hand, Aemond, transcends the throne and whose claim is superior to the other. It is a question of ethics and discerning between right and wrong. Please, enough blood has already been spilled. In consideration of grandfather's memory, he wouldn't condone any of this. It would crush him to see us like this. It would be better served if we abstain from fighting each other. I urge you to reconsider. This is your last chance to stand down and surrender peaceably. No one needs to die."
"Are you still pushing for our surrender, Jay? Come on now; we both know how this will end. Neither of us will back down in our quest for the throne. And deep down, you already understand that. It may be tough to admit, but ideals such as peace and prosperity are nothing more than a mirage. It's high time you faced reality. Thanks to the proof you provided, I'm next in line. And I assure you, Jay, I don't intend to run or hide like my brother. No, I intend to be found."
Jaehaerys furrowed his brow, his knuckles turning white as he tightened his grip on his sword. He could feel the pressure of Aemond's blade pushing against his, an unyielding force that spoke volumes about the other man's determination. Nonetheless, he held his ground, matching his uncle's strength with an unwavering determination of his own as he pushed back with equal force. Despite offering him numerous opportunities to surrender, Aemond steadfastly refused, his one remaining eye burning with a fierce desire to claim the Iron Throne for himself. Jaehaerys knew all too well how skilled and cunning his one-eyed uncle was, having sparred with him countless times in the courtyard over the years. He was a formidable warrior with a deadly combination of talents, making him a force to be reckoned with. Despite this, Jaehaerys couldn't allow himself to be intimidated. He knew that Aemond posed a grave threat and that he had to be stopped. Even as he steeled himself for battle, however, he couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. The Caltrops outnumbered the Blacks in terms of dragons with 5 to their 2, and it was clear that Beatrice had lured them into a trap. All around him, the sacred guest rights were being violated, and Jaehaerys knew that the situation was rapidly spiraling out of control.
"*RRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOHH!*"
Unexpectedly, the sudden appearance of three additional dragons caused a commotion among all those present. Vaelor, Syrax, and Silverwing made a grand entrance, soaring overhead above everyone and circling Harrenhal before abruptly turning around. The Caltrops' plan was effectively foiled, and the playing field was leveled. This added twist led to a tense stalemate between the two factions, as each now possessed an equal number of these formidable creatures. After a momentary pause, the dragons descended to the ground, and their riders - Aeonar, Rhaenyra, and Aemma - elegantly dismounted from their saddles. The air was thick with anticipation as everyone watched with bated breath to see what would unfold next.
Jaehaerys was surprised to see his father, aunt, and sister. "What are you all doing here? It's not safe," he asked puzzledly.
"Come on, Jay. You're my brother. I love you," Aemma stood by his side. "And you know what mother always told us: it's important to stick together as a family, providing unwavering support through life's ups and downs." As she turned her head, her eyes met with Aegon's. A wave of nausea washed over Aemma as she was reminded of when Aegon attempted to violate her years ago. However, her gaze remained steel-cold as it pierced through him, emanating a disgust and bitterness that had replaced her previous fear.
Otto, on the other hand, cautioned. "Your Grace, it's not safe for you to be here in your current state," he said.
But Aeonar ignored the warning and marched forward.
"If we hadn't intervened, all of you would have been dead by now," Rhaenyra retorted sharply, defending their decision to intervene.
Beatrice's gaze was fixed on Aeonar, who was clad in a suit of obsidian-hued plate armor. The breastplate was adorned with rubies shaped like a three-headed dragon and featured a charcoal-grey scale pattern underneath. His hands were encased in gauntlets reminiscent of a dragon's claws, and he sported the Conqueror's crown upon his head. At his waist, the Conqueror's legendary sword Blackfyre was sheathed and secured. "Aeonar," she said coolly.
"Beatrice," Aeonar reciprocated to his former stepmother with a calm and measured response. He shifted his gaze towards the other Caltrops, including those who had aligned themselves with Beatrice on the small council. "And the other traitors to the realm. You are aware of the repercussions of committing such betrayal, but you have still conspired to do it. My late father hoped it wouldn't come to this. Pity." He shook his head in disappointment. "But... it's as my Hand suggested. You know my terms."
"Quit stalling and burn them for it. They murdered my brother - your father - and tried to steal his throne while we were away. You know the punishment for defying the House of the Dragon," Daemon snarled, his grip on Dark Sister tightening with anticipation, yearning to cut them all down for their treachery.
"Father, you're better than this," Jaehaerys implored. "Please stay your hand. Grandfather would not have wanted any of this."
"Ser Erryk, bring me the Queen Dowager so I may take the pleasure myself."
"Stand down!" Aeonar commanded firmly, raising his hand to motion for the Blacks not to move. The Rogue Prince might be their highest-ranking military officer, but the Young Dragon was still their king and Protector of the Realm. Tempting as it may be, I gave father my word to keep the House of the Dragon intact.
"*Wuuuurrrr!*" Vhagar growled gutturally, encircling one of the dragons.
"*Grrrrrrr!*" Vaelor snarled menacingly, circling around the Queen of All Dragons.
In the midst of the Blacks and the Caltrops, the two mighty dragons, Vhagar and Vaelor, sized each other up, their tails leaving circular patterns in the dirt beneath them. Their eyes locked in a fierce gaze, with their sharp fangs gleaming in the daylight; they both knew that only one would emerge victorious. Despite being fiercely loyal to their respective riders, the dragons' primal instincts kicked in as they assessed each other's strengths and weaknesses. Vhagar, the oldest and largest of the Targaryen dragons, bore scars from past battles, a testament to her formidable power and experience. Meanwhile, Vaelor, the last offspring of Balerion the Black Dread, was lightning-fast and possessed an unmatched level of maneuverability in the air. The tension between them was palpable as they reared up on their hind legs, spreading their mighty wings wide to intimidate their opponent. Despite Vhagar's towering size, Vaelor refused to back down, driven by his fierce determination to protect his rider and assert his status as an alpha. The ground shook beneath them with each step, and the air was filled with the sound of their deafening roars, an actual test of strength and skill between two of the most powerful creatures in all of Westeros.
"Dohaerās, Valor. (Serve, Vaelor.)" Aeonar commanded in High Valyrian.
"Dohaerās, Vagar. (Serve, Vhagar.)" Aemond equally commanded.
Orwyle cautiously approached. "Your Grace," he spoke to both Aeonar and Aegon the Elder, "this situation is spiraling out of control. It would benefit no one to resort to violence over a family dispute. I suggest we call for a Great Council and allow the realm's lords to find a peaceful resolution― Ngh!" But before he could finish, the Young Dragon seized him by his maester's chain, choking him mid-sentence, and lifted him off the ground.
"You are no more Grand Maester than Aegon a pretender," Aeonar proclaimed. Without hesitation, he ripped the chain of office off Orwyle's robes with a swift and forceful movement. The pieces scattered across the ground as he let go of the Grand Maester. As he looked down at Orwyle, struggling for breath, the Young Dragon couldn't help but feel a sense of pity, despite the persistent tugging and twitching at the back of his head. "It's a shame you chose the wrong side. You were almost useful. What a waste." Aeonar pushed through his nerve pain and refused to let it affect him. "For the sake of the father who sired us," he addressed his half-siblings, Helaena and Aemond, "I will give you three days to reconsider." He focused on Beatrice, Unwin, Larys, and the other Caltrops. "From this day forth, there would be but one king in Westeros. Those who bend the knee will keep their lands and titles. Yield now, and your sons will live to rule after you. Those who take up arms against me will be thrown down, humbled, and destroyed. Remember that."
Following a prolonged and nerve-racking impasse, Aeonarinstructed his family, advisers, and guardsmen to wind up their affairs and depart for King's Landing. As the Blacks' delegation left Harrenhal, Beatrice and Aemond could do nothing but watch as they vanished from sight. The Dowager Queen, seething with fury, glared at Aegon the Elder, who, despite having been crowned as a rival claimant, remained quaking in the presence of Aeonar. Despite the passage of time, Aegon had always harbored a deep-seated fear of his elder half-brother. Meanwhile, Aemond eagerly awaited the upcoming showdown between Vhagar and Vaelor, two of the mightiest dragons in the entirety of the Seven Kingdoms. He was elated at the prospect of challenging Aeonar and yearned to surpass the Young Dragon's accomplishments.
And there were more than three days to prepare.
Aemond and his maternal grandfather, Lord Unwin Peake, made preparations...
...once their envoy returns from Storm's End.