The sea that day seemed to be peaceful, bringing dread and agony to team black. Any moral capacity Rhaenyra held for her once dear family had vanished, burying itself between the rocks and the sand of the black sea.
Aegon watched his dragon as the boat moved, their small faces were being pushed further from their mother. The dragon flew, creating a small breeze as they glided through the clouds. The smaller boy looked at his brother, feeling a comfort that they had someone to protect him.
The feeling would last no longer than mere hours.
The Triarchy, also known as the Kingdom of three whores, found the boat carrying Rhaenyra's babes and with ninety warships, the small boys had no chance.
There was no fight, few made it out, their escorting boats were sunk beneath the waves or taken. The small boys looked in horror as each of their support were taken from them, perhaps they wished for their mothers warmth once more.
Aegon, now clutching desperately to the neck of his dragon, lived. Viserys was taken, a hostage for Sharako. Stormcloud had been mortally wounded during the attack, but made sure Aegon made it back to his home before showing its injuries.
When the small boy made it back to dragonstone, collapsed on the shore with its dragon beside him, Rhaenyra held a more serious approach now, the grief she once faced had been replaced with desperation, anger.
Without thinking, Jace rounded up him and the dragonseeds, commanding that him and they go and rescue his brother from these traitors. They flew across the sea, Jace held nothing but anger.
His brother had been taken, his other dead. As he soared through the skies, he thought of Luke, they would've been able to get away if he had been there. Vhagar would not have taken him if he was there. The thought plagued his mind more than he'd like to admit.
The sailors however, had experience with Prince Daemon during the war of the stepstones and had formed a plan, to aim for Jace and not the dragon. Killing the beast would be easier if they booted down its rider first, so spears and arrows were aimed for the crown prince rather than the very thing that could cost them their lives.
Fire once again engulfed the seas, one after the other, warships were swallowed by fire and then left to the mercy of the sea. Under the siege of their prince and the rest of the dragonseeds, they shattered.
Devastation became all that filled the sea, Vermax had flew too low and crashed into the sea. Jace had leapt free for a short while, calling out for help. None would come. Myrish crossbowmen had their chance, shot after shot was fired and the son of Rhaenyra had joined his brother in the sea once more.
Prince Jacaerys, first born son of Rhaenyra, supposed bastard had died a true Velaryon in the end and nothing else had mattered.
The day's events bled into the night as the squadron of ships passed Dragonstone, metres from the grieving queen who had now promised to rain fire on the greens and whomever else dared to defy her, promising that their blood would cover the red keep as she sat on the throne.
Butchered men, women, children led the streets of SpiceTown, now being sieged by the Triarchy. Any and all belongings of Lord Corlys Velaryon were consumed by fire, the laughs of those who set them filling the now ghosted town.
The fifth day of the new year, 130 AC had been the final cost Rhaenyra was willing to sacrifice, three of the sons dead. One haunted by his brothers capture. The greens, Maellery in particular, celebrated the success of the loss team black faced. Her husband by her side.
Though the losses did not stop there, Daemon, after learning of Maellery's behaviour sent a letter to her dear mother, writing that the war had been succeeded, posing that Maellery had wished to reunite with her mother and her dear spy.
To my loving mother,
It is with great happiness that I tell you we have won. The blacks have bent the knee and the realm can once again return to the state it was. I wish to reunite with you and Tommen.
All my love,
Maellery Targaryen
Mysa was not met with her loving daughter and the smile that brought her back to when she was born. She thought of her in that moment. In the hours Maellery was born, Mysa had never felt more obsessed with another, she spent hours stroking her nose and reading her the most beautiful of passages. That obsession did not diminish.
The moment she had received such news, she did not even question who had wrote this and had made preparations to house Maellery and her dear husband who had sent some letters to her, promising that her dear love would not be harmed and any attempt would be met with Vhagar personally.
When she saw the rouge prince stood instead of her curly haired baby, she did nothing. She did not ask for mercy, she did not bend the knee nor betray her daughter. She simply told him that he would pay for his ways, whether that be by her daughter or by the gods themselves.
She thought she would have more time, she thought that she would be able to coach her daughter as she gave birth and hold her hands when the sadness of marriage hit her. She wished to hold her grandbabies in her arms and hum a similar tune like she did with her baby.
She also thought of Aemond, wishing in her last moments that her daughter was happy in her life. Trying to comfort herself as he etched closer to her, you did the right thing she would mutter in her mind, she did not believe it.
One swing of his sword and Mysa Catell, loving mother and devoted wife joined her husband with the gods. Daemon left to be with Rhaenyra happy with his decision as her body was left to rot into the earth and her head was delivered personally to Maellery.
The losses came also, Aemond sat in a meeting as he was informed that Rooks Rest was now in the hands of a Lord Mooton. Before he could do anything however, he was burnt alive by Sunfyre, who then abandoned the place before she could be wounded further.
He saw this as a victory for them and celebrated sunfyre's courage, telling those to look for her but to let her rest for a while, the wounds could be fatal for her and her taking flight was not right for her healing.
As they discussed further, the doors opened and there stood his wife, his beautiful wife, clutching the head of someone. Aemond stood immediately, others began to protest, he shoved them off as he approached her.
The expression she held was emotionless, her eyes were wide and her lips were closed and she held the head at arms length. Aemond glanced over to it once and noticed the soft curls that dangled, Mysa.
He looked toward his wife again and noticed the soft shaking she held, her eyes were tearful but none fell. The guards were now approaching her as well, from behind. Aemond's anger grew with every step they took, he told them to stop what they were doing but they failed to listen.
Aemond snapped in that moment, overcoming with his rage, his wife's rage and devastation. His fist collided with the guards face so many times it was hard to keep track. He saw nothing but a threat to his wife, he needed to die. He needed to die, was all that repeated in his head as he stood up and turned back to his wife.
Now reeking in bloodshed, the room fell eerily silent. The council watched as the guard was carried out the room, his face now unrecognisable. Their prince regent stood, covered in the blood of his threat as he looked at his wife. Both of their breathing's were erratic, Mae held nothing but desperation in her eyes and him, rage.
They shared the same look with each other. Maellery clutched her mothers head, as if it were comforting to herself. I want revenge. she told her husband telepathically, as if he would know what she wanted. But he did. you'll get it, he responded back in Maellery's mind.
When he confirmed her thoughts, she turned and left the room, clutching tightly onto her mothers curls. She did not look at her, she could feel her hair in her hands and that was enough. For a split second she thought she was alive, she was simply running her hand through her head in a comforting manner. The blood that dripped said otherwise.
Maellery did not speak for the rest of the day, her mothers head lay right beside her. Disgusting, cruel is what the others thought. Who would want their mothers beheaded corpse dragged around with her. Mae wanted her mother, she wanted to hold her, feel the comfort of her embrace. She settled for stroking her hair.
They had proposed they display the head as another senseless act of Rhaenyra. By now, there were protests and riots about the war. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep the people at bay. Maellery, a much beloved figure, would settle them. She refused.
They may have used Helaena as a tool, but they would not do the same for her mother. Her mother, her sweet, abiding, loving mother. No. Enough. She wanted to scream, cry, howl at them to leave, get out. She couldn't move, she couldn't speak, it felt often at times she couldn't even blink.
She just remained staring, stroking the hair of her mothers head, trying to regain any sort of control over herself. All that had gone. No more conversations, no more laughter. She had nothing. Daemon had taken her. Revenge, revenge, revenge.
She needed it, she wanted it. She needed to see the pain that he had caused her on himself. She wanted him in pain, so much pain he was begging to die. She would not allow it. She didn't want him to die. She wanted him to be in agony, she wanted him to wake up in agony, sleep in agony.
Aemond also wanted revenge, though very different to Mae's. He wanted him to die, he wanted to be there when his head and hands were torn from his body. He wanted to deliver them to his wife, wanted to watch as she smiled and thanked him. He wanted to hang him up, his body nothing but a warning. Nothing would be spoken of the rogue prince, he would become nothing but a memory.
He and Ser Cole made a plan, Harrenhall. Daemon was there, they would march to harrenhall and he would face his uncle. They were to depart as soon as possible, the anger in Aemond's tone growing each minute.
He watched as his wife did nothing, saw nothing, it was like she had returned to her old ways. Staring silently out the window of their chamber. Mad, mad, mad Mae. He approached her, bending slightly.
"We're marching to Harrenhall." is all he said, she nodded slowly. Truly she was not listening to anything her husband had told her, instead focusing on the many thoughts of revenge that crossed her mind.
Aemond knew she was in another world, he could see it in her eyes as she looked through him. He chose not to say anything more, nodding once at her and smiling softly.
The pair remained quiet together, both racking up thoughts of whatever they would do to Daemon when they got their hands on him. Aemond knew it was time for him to leave, he was elated. He had been wanting to face his uncle since the very start of the war. He looked down at his wife and lightly planted a kiss on her head, lingering for longer than he ought to.
He did not know the state he would come back in, he knew his uncle would not give up so easily. He may lose an arm, an eye. He knew he would not be dead, he would put more of an effort to return to his wife. He did not want her to be plagued with the scent of death once more.
He turned, just before he left her, he heard her mutter something. He closed his eyes and lowered his head. "Tommen." is all she asked. He turned around to face her but said nothing. She knew what he meant. She nodded as a few tears escaped her eyes. He reluctantly turned and walked away.
A host of four thousand and vhagar marched toward the river lands, one thing stayed in Aemonds mind as he marched his men. Maellery.
authors note*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:
I actually did not mean to publish this chapter just yet but i mean it's out now so enjoy!!!! Thank you once again. This chapter is so fast paced it's awful but i wanted to get to the more juicy parts of the war.
birth of mad mae.
‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾