Game Of Thrones: The Dragon Targaryen

And it had all been going so well.

King Viserys Targaryen's war effort had been achieving nearly unprecedented success. He'd taken King's Landing almost bloodlessly—for his side, anyway—and several houses had sworn for him. While his cousins and sister had escaped him, his nephew and uncle had both been beset upon by the same snows that now covered his city. While his scouts couldn't infiltrate the snows well enough to keep track of numbers or exact positions, it was common sense that Aegon and Aelor were suffering severe attrition. Their animals were certainly in danger, and if Viserys could engage them with an overwhelming cavalry superiority he would have the clear advantage.

Over half the North and a large portion of the strongest southern levies were at the Wall. The Reach armies and shattered remnants of the Westerlands were busy trying to rid their coasts of the Ironborn, nearly the entire coastline falling at some point or another to the reavers. The forces of the Riverlands and Vale were split, a large portion of their strength also trying to contain the Ironborn while the rest had gone to try and unite with Aegon. Maylo Jayn and Black Balaq had taken a detachment of several thousand Golden Company mercenaries to harass them, and the Summer Island archers had succeeded in slowing them considerably. Dorne had been subjected to enough Ironborn raids that they had been forced to protect their borders, while the presence of Elia Sand in King's Landing kept Prince Oberyn Martell and his fifteen thousand Dornishmen in the Boneway.

Yes, despite the slight setbacks, Viserys' war had been going swimmingly.

Until a handful of battered longsh.i.p.s had sailed into Blackwater Bay, bringing with them devastating news.

Asha Greyjoy was longlegged and lean, with black hair she kept chopped short. When she'd disembarked her right arm had been in a makeshift, bloodstained sling; the bones had been nearly pulverized by a warhammer, and the physicians seemed intent on removing the arm before the infection already running rampant through it took her life. The Lady Reaver was just as adamant that they didn't take it, and it had taken ordered force from Viserys to save her life.

Ordered force had taken her father's.

Viserys knew Stannis Baratheon was a hard, unyielding man, totally unlike his younger brother Renly. While Viserys had been granted the reconstructed Summerhall a few years before the Lord of the Stormlands had come to the capital as Master of Sh.i.p.s, he still knew the elder Baratheon's reputation; he had eaten boot leather rather than surrender Storm's End to Mace Tyrell, and had made no excuses to try and save his life when judgement was passed down by Aelor Targaryen. The only reason he hadn't died at Storm's End was the interference of Ned Stark and the fact that Renly would have to die with him.

Yet still, Viserys hadn't expected Stannis to be as patient and calculating as he had been. Storm's End wasn't overly far from King's Landing, particularly by sea, and it was there that Lord Stannis' children and wife awaited the end of the war. While it was considered nearly impregnable, it certainly couldn't have been easy for Stannis to resist either rushing back to protect his castle or rushing forward into battle to try and end the war quickly.

He had done neither.

Iron King Balon Greyjoy had been raiding the south of Dorne while he awaited Stannis' arrival. Lord Baratheon had proceeded cautiously, hugging the coastlines and keeping in contact with the Lords of Dorne. Balon Greyjoy had kept his navy mostly intact aside from the attachment under his daughter, who was chasing the Redwyne's back and forth. After a few weeks raiding around the curve of the Reach as they waited, he had proceeded to Dorne, and there had sacked Starfall, home of the ancient House Dayne, though the Dayne's themselves had simply evacuated ahead of the Ironborn scourge. Intermittently they raided villages, slaughtering smallfolk, before sailing up the Brimstone to attack Hellholt, home of House Uller. Thrice he attempted to take the castle and thrice he was repulsed, though he kept the bulk of his navy scouting for Stannis.

When the Royal Fleet was finally sighted, he abandoned all other raids, consolidated his fleet, and took off after them. Stannis had retreated from him, outnumbered without the Redwyne's, into the small Bay of Salt beneath the walls of Scorched Rock, the seat of House Ladybright. Iron King Balon, believing Stannis trapped, had sailed in after him.

And there he had died.

The Ironborn were better sailors than the men under Lord Baratheon, their entire lives spent on the decks of sh.i.p.s. In open fleet combat even unyielding Stannis would have fallen, his sh.i.p.s burned to the watermark and body feed to the sharks. So he hadn't fought Balon in open ship combat; he had pulled him against the coast, and there he engaged them.

As did the Dornish.

In the weeks it took him to finally involve Balon Greyjoy, Stannis had been working. While the details in their entirety were unclear to Viserys, it was reasonable to assume he had disembarked on multiple occasions, likely treating with the various Lords of Dorne. However he had managed it, the Dornish had trebuchets and catapults in the hundreds waiting on the cliffs of the Scorched Rock.

Hell had been unleashed on Balon Greyjoy.

The fleets had meet under a backdrop of flaming barrels of pitch and burning bolts. The Ironborn hadn't withdrawn, be it brave or stupid—Asha Greyjoy questioned if her youngest brother's successes, a thorn in her father's side, may have played part—and might have won the day despite the volleys of Dornish fire.

Until the Redwyne's arrived.

Asha doubted that had been part of Stannis' plan, for she had finally caught up to the Fleet of the Arbor. Lord Paxter had one moment been fleeing a different direction, the SheKraken on his heels, and then had turned abruptly and followed the sounds of battle. Asha had been unable to run him down before his men, for months having been on the run, finally were able to attack.

They had torn into the Battle in the Bay with devastating effect.

By the time Asha's own sh.i.p.s joined the fray her father's fleet had been mostly demolished, and it didn't take her long to see the day was lost. Her own fleet was mostly demolished in its efforts to escape, her personal crew having to repulse four separate boarding attempts before they made open water and fled back around the arm of Dorne and up towards King's Landing.

Viserys' council had been debating so hotly in the weeks since that Viserys had a constant headache and the overwhelming d.e.s.i.r.e to drown himself in wine.

"For the last time, he's still outnumbered. Our plans can continue as discussed." Harry Strickland had been adamant that they make no adjustments to the intent to wait for Aegon to come to them, and his points were sound; Asha Greyjoy had reported that even though he had been the one to set the trap, Stannis' fleet was still heavily damaged, as were the Redwyne's. His lack of even token pursuit of her backed the claim.

"And for the hundredth time, outnumbered is a stretch." Jon Lothston had been ferocious in his request to sally out and eliminate Aegon on land before Stannis could win more victories on the water, likely because it was the opposite of what Strickland wanted. "We don't know how many sh.i.p.s he and the Redwyne Fleet lost when the idiot Greyjoy got himself killed; all we know for certain is that they are now unified while the remaining Ironborn are scattered."

"Surely word of their King's death would have spread," pointed out Renly Baratheon, who couldn't have taken word of his brother's impressive victory well. Part of his claim was that he could make men follow him when his brother couldn't, yet the elder had been the one to annihilate an enemy force in fair combat.

Lothston whirled. "How can we be certain? Lady Greyjoy says the Redwyne's came from the West; any stragglers would have been caught in their attack. The Reach and Dorne are nearly unified under Aegon, and they aren't going to go telling the remaining men raiding their homes that there's a threat nearing them."

"So what do we do," asked Lord Lorimer Payne, lean and stately. "Help Aegon Targaryen dig himself out of his snowstorm and attack? Why not just wait for the weather to do our work for us?"

"It's likely he's nearly dug himself out already. But we cannot wait for him to reach us, because by then Stannis Baratheon may have defeated the rest of the Ironborn, and then we're well and truly f.u.c.k.e.d. With no threat to their borders nothing will stop the armies of the Reach and Riverlands from coming straight for us, and with them the Vale. We need to destroy their King now, while we are at least close in number if not superior in that regard and better equipped. With Aegon and Aelor dead, King Viserys is the logical successor."

"What of Jaehaerys, at the Wall surrounded by ten thousand Northmen under the Starks who are his kin?"

"The wildlings will take care of him, and if they don't we will handle him in time. Besides, he is a bastard, regardless of whether Aelor or Aegon Targaryen want to admit it.""

Renly scoffed. "A bastard who has been the heir to the Iron Throne since the day of his birth. Your plan is filled with more holes than the Iron Fleet."

A voice came from the door of the chamber, Lysono Maar's tone a mixture of annoyed and concerned. "It is about to gain more credence. Theon Greyjoy is dead, as is another sizable portion of the Iron Fleet."

A chorus of groans filled the room, and Viserys cursed aloud. "Baratheon again?"

Maar nodded. "Stannis engaged Theon off the coast of Blackcrown and shattered his fleet. Maron Greyjoy, who I suppose is the King of the Iron Islands now, managed to slip a messenger through the reaver holdings of Cornfield and our land on the Gold Road. He's ordered his fleets to muster together; they won't stand a chance piecemeal."

Viserys ran a hand through his silvery-blonde hair. "That means most loyalist forces are about to be freed up."

It was a terrible blow to Viserys' war effort, but Lothston looked nearly giddy. "Surely you see my suggestion is the best course of action now, Your Grace. If all of our enemies band together, even the walls of King's Landing and the presence of hostages will not stop them. Our entire strategy was to keep them occupied until we remove Aegon and Aelor Targaryen; now is that chance!"

Strickland clearly wasn't convinced, but Viserys doubted he ever would be. "And leave King's Landing, our only symbol of power, free to the Dornish?"

Duncan Strong, thus far quiet, chimed in. "We can kill the hostages. If they are to recapture King's Landing for a time, we can make that victory taste foul to them."

Viserys shook his head. "Absolutely not. Unnecessary cruelty is what brought me half my army; I will not subject to it myself. If I have to surrender King's Landing for a time to eliminate my rival, I will do so." Viserys hunched over the table, peering over the map of Westeros. "While my nephew isn't free of the Neck yet, he is certainly close. There is only one way out of there, and then there are limited crossings for him to take. The Crossing itself, or the Ruby Ford."

Renly had joined his chosen King in posture, gesturing towards the two towers symbolizing House Frey. "Lord Walder hates the Tully's, but he hasn't sworn for us. I doubt he'll bar Aegon from passing."

"I agree, though he has no need of crossing there. If he does, he'll just have to ford another of the forks farther down. If he crosses at the Ruby Ford, though, he'll be only a couple of days from Harrenhal. It's defensible even if it is a ruin, and I'd wager it will be the chosen location of my brother and nephew for their base of operations until I am dealt with. There is a certain…poetic brilliance to it all."

Strickland tried once more. "Your Grace, this is our strongest position—"

Viserys glared at the Captain-General of the Golden Company. "And I have sat in it for months, and received nothing in return but a weakened position. Lothston has the right of it; now is the time to strike. If I allow the Vale and Reach to consolidate I am finished, even if I have elephants and professional mercenaries on my side."

"Your Grace—"

"Enough!" Viserys stood to his full height. "I have allowed you all to plan nearly all of my moves to this point, but I am Viserys Targaryen, not you. We march on my command, and I command it. You can obey, or you can die. That goes for you all." He slammed his finger down on the Ruby Ford. "This is where I will meet my nephew and brother in battle."

"And this is where I shall end them."