Game Of Thrones: The Dragon Targaryen

Aelor's rage was terrifying to behold, but it certainly made things happen quickly.

The Dragon of Duskendale was the obvious choice as Aegon's regent, all agreed, and in that capacity he was moving quickly. Everyone knew it was solely so he could pursue the Lannister's sooner, but none were complaining as more was getting done in a few days than normally got done in a few months.

Aegon Targaryen, the sixth of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, had been crowned two days after Aelor's arrival. There had been no grand ceremony, no feast, no nothing, merely a heavy guard of fifty men-at-arms and three Kingsguard knights escorting a carriage through the windblown streets in a steady rain, the strong winds from the hours before having subsided but leaving debris scattered across the wet streets.

Inside that carriage the King of the Seven Kingdoms had slept in the arms of Ashara Dayne, oblivious to what was around him, his sister Rhaenys squirming restlessly in her uncle Aelor's l.a.p. The toddler, unlike her brother, was fully aware of Elia's absence, having developed enough of a vocabulary in the months Aelor had been gone to repeatedly ask after 'mama'. It had broken the Targaryen Prince's heart each time, increasing his rage at the Lannisters with each syllable.

He was truly going to kill them all. Every last one.

A few lords had grumbled that a Great Council was necessary, the implication clearly to crown Aelor Targaryen instead of the baby Aegon, but all whispering had stopped when the Dragon of Duskendale had caught wind of it. He'd reacted violently, informing the lords and ladies gathered in King's Landing that Aegon was King and would remain so, stating in no uncertain terms that he would remove the tongue of anyone who suggested otherwise.

It was King Aerys-esque, but also superbly effective. No more whispers were heard.

The rebellious Lord Paramount's had sworn fealty to the Infant King soon after the simple coronation, though their intent to depart afterwards was postponed. Each had sworn the remnants of their men to Aelor and the loyalist army, to track down and defeat the murderous Lannister. There was an underlying current of hope that good service in the coming battles would result in a diminution of the already lenient reprimands made, though whether or not it would happen even Aelor hadn't decided on.

The Small Council had been chosen quickly, only missing a master of sh.i.p.s, whom Aelor claimed to have chosen already but hadn't given the name, and a Grandmaester, soon to be chosen by the Conclave at the Citadel. Pycelle's head now rested on a spike along the walls of the Red Keep, joined by those of the other eight Lannister men responsible for Elia Martell's murder. The old man's death had been carried out by the dead Queen's brother Oberyn, and Barristan could only suppose it had been agonizingly slow.

Bronze Yohn Royce had been appointed master of laws, a gesture intended to start binding the wounds in the realm the war had torn open. The Lord of Runestone was highly competent and respected, as well as a suitable man for the duty, and it proved that Aelor didn't intend for any bad blood to remain between the once opposing forces. Barristan himself was standing in for Lord Commander Gerold Hightower on the small council, his sworn brother still with the Stark girl in Dorne. Lord Wyman Manderly, already portly and likely to become much more so, had been appointed the Master of Coin. The Lord of White Harbor seemed much more shrewd and capable than Barristan's original impression of the man, and his family's devotion to both the Starks and the Faith of the Seven made his presence both signifying and prudent.

Varys had retained the role of master of whisperers, his circle of contacts and the power he could wield invaluable, though Aelor clearly held the spymaster partly responsible for the Lannister men's infiltration. The Spider had partially made up for it by placing most of his assets into tracking the movements of the Western bannermen, giving the loyalist crucial information concerning who had received ravens, who hadn't, and who was obeying them.

To a man the early reports indicated they all were.

"There is nothing he can do, surely he must see that," Bronze Yohn was saying. "We have nearly sixty thousand men outside of the city, with fifteen thousand more finishing the siege of Storm's End. At best Lannister can raise thirty thousand, and that is a stretch. His retinue, half of his lords and their retinues all either died in this very city or currently serve us."

"Can their loyalty be trusted?" Asked Manderly, his chair pushed farther from the table than the others to account for his belly.

"As much as yours can, Lord Treasurer." Varys gestured towards the window of the Small Council Chambers. "Half of the men outside were not so long ago fighting the other half."

"My liege lord bent the knee to the Targaryen name and bid me serve them," Manderly shot back. "The Manderly's owe the Starks a debt we cannot hope to repay, and as such I will serve where told until the day I die."

"I believe you, Lord Manderly," Aelor stated calmly from the head of the table. "Our war is done, the reprimands lenient. I hold knowledge of Lord Stark's sister's whereabouts, and the men who harmed his family so are dead. He is with us, and Lord Royce and his liege Lord are the same. Tully by default is with us as well, as he is too closely tied to the others to join Tywin on his own." He glanced at Barristan ever so briefly before returning his gaze to the men surrounding the table before him. "The men of Lannister blood have all fled, but their soldiers remain behind. They will not forsake us; they are already on the favorable side."

"The other lords follow Tywin Lannister because of fear," Lord Varys chimed in. "Fear is a great motivator, and after the Reyens and Tarbecks all of the Western lords are too afraid for their houses to dither from Lord Tywin's command."

The Dragon of Duskendale looked to another man at the table, grim faced and stern. Randyll Tarly didn't hold a traditional seat on the Small Council but Aelor seemed to have created one for him, having repeatedly referred to the Lord of Horn Hill as Chief General, making it clear that supreme command of the loyalist force should Aelor fall would pass directly to the balding Reachman. It was a prudent move Barristan knew, rewarding the Reach with a spot on the Small Council as well as selecting a man born for the role. Tarly was as adept at tactics as Aelor was at swordplay. "Lord Tarly, what do you suggest?"

The grim man stood, leaning over the table slightly to rest his finger on the red flag representing the seat of House Lannister. "According to both the captured letter and Varys' spies, Lannister is rallying troops at Casterly Rock. He knows he is outnumbered, but he also knows he has no choice but to fight on after Queen Elia's death, so fight he shall. The mountains and hills of the Westerlands give them a defensive advantage, one I am sure Lannister will use."

"What is your suggestion?"

"Our army is mustered and ready to move, giving us time Lannister doesn't have. All we need is to gather enough supplies to feed our men, and I already have convoys traveling through the Reach for that purpose." Tarly moved his finger away from Casterly Rock, placing it on King's Landing. "I suggest a two-pronged attack. The main force of forty five thousand will travel down the Gold Road like so, subduing Deep Den and any other castles necessary along our path." He slid his finger along the intended route as he spoke. "A second force of fifteen thousand will enter the Westerlands here." This time he gestured towards where the Westerlands bordered with the Riverlands west of Riverrun. "The Golden Tooth has a stout defense, but the raven the big Kingsguard knight killed bore the message to them, so they will be lagging behind the others and a force of mostly cavalry could reach them in time to assault before they are prepared. Once the flanking force is through, the main force will engage Tywin in the flats surrounding Casterly Rock and Lannisport, allowing the flankers to descend on him from another direction."

Bronze Yohn, a decent tactician in his own right, nodded his approval. "It will be similar to the Battle of the Trident, where your Dornishmen forded farther upriver and came in on our rear."

Tarly nodded curtly. "Lannister will be caught on two sides, and in the flats his defensive advantage will be gone. There is one setback, however. Lannister is smart, deadly smart, and once he realizes the battle is lost he will likely pull a chunk of his forces back into Casterly Rock. Any attack on that castle would be suicide, even if we had six hundred thousand men. It has never been taken before, and for good reason."

"And Lannister is too smart to be drawn away from his true advantage," Barristan agreed. "Even if we don't reach him in time to catch him in the flats, he will only venture far enough to ambush us in the hills of the Westerlands, all the while maintaining a clear line of retreat back to his seat of power."

"Our numerical advantage can be countered." Tarly spoke only to Aelor then. "Decisive action is required, Your Grace."

"It will be like then Stormlands again, Your Grace," Barristan said. "Try to remove the Lion's claws before they can sink into you."

Aelor stared into the map, eyes unfocused in thought. "Lord Tarly will have command of the main force, as is his place as Chief General. I will lead the flanking force. Lord Royce, Lord Manderly, I will need both of your assistance in selecting the strongest knights and hors.e.m.e.n from the North and Vale. My own best men were wiped out at the ford. Send word to Lord Tully to do the same." Aelor gestured to Storm's End. "I will send Lord Eddard Stark and Lord Cleyton Byrch with a thousand men to lift the siege of Storm's End. Hopefully Stark can talk some sense into Stannis Baratheon, for Renly's sake if nothing else. Once done, Lord Mace will have orders to march to the Westerlands post haste, to reinforce our armies there. Lannister is outnumbered but certainly not beaten, and I will not lose him due to being overconfident."

It went unsaid that Stark had other business to conclude afterwards in Dorne, though Barristan suspected every man present was aware. "When do we leave, Prince Aelor?" Tarly asked, ever focused on the task at hand.

"Three days. That will give me time to select the best riders as well as settle things here in King's Landing."

Lord Randyll nodded. "With the Prince's permission I will begin preparations immediately." Aelor waved his hand and Tarly swiftly exited the room.

"Lord Royce, the City Watch is in shambles after Lannisters raid. Your first duty as master of laws is to reorganize and resupply the men, though your choices are momentarily restricted due to the army's proximity to departure. Ser Manly Stokeworth, the former Commander, was killed in the Sack, and there hasn't been true time to select a successor since. Promote internally for now, though the Seven know what caliber of men you have to choose from. We will focus on rebuilding the Goldcloaks as soon as Lannister is subdued."

Lord Royce nodded, rising to his impressive height. "It will be done, Your Grace."

Aelor turned to Manderly as Royce followed Tarly's footsteps out of the door. "Lord Qarlton Chelsted, your successor, displeased my father and lost his life for it. That leaves you, Lord Wyman, in a difficult position, as no one has a notion of where our finances lay and it is your job to find out. Your duty is more difficult than even Lord Royce's, though I trust you are more than capable. Lord Eddard spoke highly of you, and you may recruit as much assistance as you need."

Lord Manderly nodded and rose, grasping quickly that the meeting was over and this was his dismissal. "I will begin at once, Your Grace." The portly man smiled knowingly. "I will consider any debts owed to House Lannister as 'soon to be paid'."

Aelor grinned ever so slightly. "I do believe you will thrive here, Lord Wyman."

Lord Varys had risen with Manderly. "I will continue listening for the song of my little birds, Prince Regent. The Westerlands are alive with their music." Both men, portly Northerner and bald eunuch, exited the chamber.

Barristan found himself alone with the Prince. The knight of the Kingsguard had made no secret of what he had done, informing Aelor the next morning of his actions. The Prince had said nothing, though the betrayal in his eyes had torn into Barristan's soul. The fact that Aelor had yet to move, coupled with the tenseness that had seeped into his shoulders, suggested to Barristan Selmy that the Prince intended to discuss it now.

"Go ahead, Your Grace."

To Barristan's surprise, Aelor merely looked at him for a moment, his voice calm as ever when he began to speak. "I don't think I will, Barristan. You betrayed me, warning Kevan Lannister and his blond c.u.n.t cousins that I was going to kill them when I had made no such action."

"Yet."

Aelor shot to his feet. "Who are you to judge the Dragon? They killed Elia, yet you allow them to run? Need I remind you that you serve House Targaryen, not House Lannister? Or are you a treacherous snake, like f.u.c.k.i.n.g Pycelle?"

Barristan kept his voice calm. "They didn't kill Elia; Tywin did. Ser Kevan fought loyally for you, as did his kinsmen present. I serve House Targaryen and House Targaryen only, Aelor, you know that."

"Do I?" The Prince's voice was calming, though the enraged—and, Barristan's realized in horror, crazed—glint in his violet eyes did not vanish. "Two of my brothers are dead, one of blood and one of choice. My household knights and retinues, friends all, are to a man dead. The woman I loved was stabbed to death for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, as well as for marrying the wrong Targaryen. And my father, the one I chose, not the one who sired me, allowed the men who killed her to flee." Aelor shook his head. "Tell me, what in this life do I truly know anymore?"

Barristan found his heart being shredded at the Prince's words. "Aelor, Ser Kevan…"

"Is a Lannister," the Prince spat. Barristan could only watch him as the Prince stood straighter. "You will remain here when we march, to guard King Aegon and Princess Rhaenys alongside Ser Arthur Dayne. Ser Manfred will accompany me on the campaign."

The knight of the Kingsguard instantly felt a jab of concern, not only for the Prince's life but also for what he may do were Barristan not there to restrain him. "My place is with you, Aelor."

The Dragon of Duskendale's voice was as cold as the tendrils of fear growing in Barristan Selmy's stomach. "Your place is where the King deems fit. As his regent, I deem it to be here." Aelor walked towards the door, leaving his mentor to watch after him in torment, only pausing under its frame to toss one more comment over his shoulder. "Do not enter my presence again unless called for, Ser Barristan."

Without another word, his son walked through the door.