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Yes Monford, attack a a military genius with armies, support of a Targaryen, dragon, the king and a foul-mouthed lord. Surely nothing can go wrong.
It's like the high school cheerleading team all over again.
 
Yes Monford, attack a a military genius with armies, support of a Targaryen, dragon, the king and a foul-mouthed lord. Surely nothing can go wrong.
It's like the high school cheerleading team all over again.
But how high is crown authority? Can the king really do much without provoking accusations of tyranny? Also, has Rheana even tamed Jemamza yet? Also, what good is a Targaryen when all the rest of them are extinct?
 
But how high is crown authority? Can the king really do much without provoking accusations of tyranny? Also, has Rheana even tamed Jemamza yet? Also, what good is a Targaryen when all the rest of them are extinct?
But nothing can match Rhaekar's military genius, can it? Also, thanks for pointing out the discrepancies.
 
But nothing can match Rhaekar's military genius, can it? Also, thanks for pointing out the discrepancies.
Personally, I was banking on the foul mouthed lord.
 
But how high is crown authority? Can the king really do much without provoking accusations of tyranny? Also, has Rheana even tamed Jemamza yet? Also, what good is a Targaryen when all the rest of them are extinct?

Y'all will find out in the next update... which I am going to post... now.
 
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Chapter 20
Rhaena

In the distance, the village of Brindlewood rested quietly. Smoke rose from a few chimneys, but otherwise it appeared untouched. It was like a quiet doe staring out from a forest at a busy city in the distance, for not far from the village was the military camp of the loyalist forces of Duskendale. The tents had been arranged in an orderly manner, and a few fires had been set, since it was about time for the afternoon meal. Some soldiers were walking about, having a chat. Others were with their superiors, engaged in training. Still others sat near their tents, sharpening their swords on whetstones or playing music from whatever instrument they could carry.

At the largest tent in the camp, the gust of wind that had picked up caused the flap to flutter like a banner. Under the flap, one could see a thin woman in light armor. She had one hand uncovered, her pale flesh visible over her slender knuckles and fingers. The other hand was metal, and still – almost limp. A helmet rested on the edge of the table, nose-guard hanging off the very end. The white hair of the woman was bundled up behind her head in a tight braid. As a commotion rose outside the tent, Rhaena looked up from the papers on the table before her. There were no maps on it – she really had no need for them, since Duskendale was so easy to navigate for most of her officers. Instead, there were lists of how many men they had raised, who was commanded by whom, as well as a handful of messages that had been arriving for the past day. One of them, the most recent one, announced the arrival of her husband.

The commotion had been a quick conversation that was over in a moment. It had sounded like someone speaking in loud terms, while another tried to calm them. What the subject matter had been, Rhaena wasn’t sure. As silence came over the area outside the tent, it was soon filled with the rising sound of clinking armor, and the familiar thump-thump-thump of boots on the ground. All at once, the flap of the tent was pulled aside, and a tall man with long-flowing white hair appeared. He gave her a smile as his violet eyes settled on her. “Hello, my lady.”

Rhaena lowered her gaze to the papers before her. “Lord husband...”

Rhaekar stood there, as if considering something. Rhaena knew that when she treated him this way, it drove him insane. He never became angry, but he was clearly frustrated at what to do. He had been attempting to play blessed septon with her, being all smiles and cheerfulness even as her purple eyes bore daggers into his heart. She had been countering it by increasing the size of the wall she had before him. She really couldn’t think of anything else to do: when she heard his voice, she heard the words that echoed off the walls of the throne room, announcing his decision to go with Ser Daeron; when she saw his smile, she saw the look he gave the newly anointed King Daeron as the latter thanked him; when she felt the warmth of his body in bed, all she could do was feel a chill as she realized she was sleeping beside the same man who had tossed away the rightful claim of House Targaryen to another, lesser house. She was the true heir to the Iron Throne, and yet the Unicorn Prince had taken it away from her. Why? She couldn’t understand. It had been a deep betrayal – even deeper that it had been done by her husband.

As Rhaekar always seemed to do, he overlooked this offense. She expected him at any moment to use “the horn of the unicorn” he was so apt to use as a threat against inferiors who disrespected him. It had become something of a legend associated with him. “Lord Rhaekar thrust the horn of the unicorn across the kingdom and brought peace,” many had said. Elonne had even made mention of Rhaekar using “the horn of the unicorn” against Hugh Hammer. Rhaena had asked Elonne about that claim, since everyone knew that Hugh Hammer had died in a fire at a whorehouse. Elonne had smiled nervously and said that it was a rumor – a legend in some circles, even. Rumor, legend, or truth, it certainly to the aura that had grown around Rhaekar’s person. Nonetheless, he never seemed to use that “horn of a unicorn” against her. Indeed, just as he always had in the past, he simply shrugged off the offense and continued his line of thought.

“How many men are under our command?” Rhaekar asked.

“Just under three thousand,” Rhaena replied.

“And House Byrch? How many have they raised?”

“Just under two thousand.”

“Three thousand and a dragon versus two thousand and no dragon. Very good odds.”

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Rhaena lowered her eyes to the table. She looked at nothing in particular. “Jem-Jem shall make short work of them.”

“Yes, indeed. Are you aware that your dragon ate a local farmer’s cow?”

“Yes. She was hungry, lord husband.”

“And the farmer was livid. I was speaking with him on the way in here. I had to compensate him for the price of two cows before he left. I know campaigns often bring headaches to the smallfolk, but could you at least control your pet?”

Rhaena glanced at Rhaekar, only for a second, then back at the table. “I shall try.”

“Good.” Rhaekar fidgeted with his gloves, then took them off. His large, hard fingers curled and flexed as he relaxed his hands. Rhaena took notice, and the thought reminded her of… warmer times. Times in their marriage when they made love in a regular basis. Rhaekar had a strength she had never expected, and his hands often proved it. She felt a shiver – a mixture of want and disgust – as she remembered a time when she used to make love to this man who had betrayed her. Why was she thinking about that now? It had been a long time since either of them had made love, to be sure… but why think about it now?

“Where is Lord Byrch?” Rhaekar asked.

“In the Antlers.” Rhaena lifted up her eyes, staring out the waving flap of the tent. Beyond was the west. “Lord Buckwell is with him.”

“But that still amounts to only two-thousand. Most excellent work on the information, my lady.” He grinned at her, and Rhaena made the mistake of looking at him. He had a certain smile that he noticed he only gave her, and no other woman. He would curl his lips, and his eyebrows would raise slightly – very, very slightly. It was a subtle gesture, but a noticeable one for her. Once, in the beginning of their marriage, she’d seen him give her that look when she caught him watching her undress. It sent another shiver up her spine, which she attempted to suppress, though with less success than before. “I say we go and meet him. We put him to flight, lay siege of Byrch Hall, and see about ending this rebellion quickly.”

“Shall I give the order to move out then?”

“Yes. Let us see if we can defeat them in battle tomorrow, then end the war within a month.”

The next day, the Duskendale army came upon the Byrch army easily enough. As a dark fog settled on the field in the waking hours of the morning, Rhaena strolled from her tent (she had not slept in the same tent as Rhaekar) towards Jelmamza. She found the dragon chained to a large pole, though the chain was only loosely tied about her neck. Rhaena knew full well that Jelmamza would not depart from her, for the dragon loved her dearly, and she loved it. Even as Rhaena approved, Jelmamza lifted her now great head, dish-sized eyes staring across at her. The dragon had experienced quite a growth spurt in the past month or two, and though not as huge as any of the dragons boasted by the Conqueror or his sister-wives, she was still big enough to ride on, and would pack some damage on the field.

“Jem-Jem, my darling,” Rhaena cooed. The dragon blew smoke from its nostrils and leaned its head forward, offering it to Rhaena to pet. The lady did so, running her only true hand along the middle of the dragon’s forehead, rising up between its horns. “Did you sleep well? Today, we kill traitors.”

As the fog cleared, and the sun rose, the battle armies formed. Rhaekar commanded the western flank, while Lord Rolland Hollard, who had remained loyal, commanded the eastern flank. Rhaena commanded the center, which she observed from high in the sky. Atop Jelmamza, Rhaena could at last feel the wind against her flesh, and the superiority of her position above all others. At long last, she could feel alive. She could feel Targaryen. People had laughed and scorned her behind her back when the dragon in her first egg died, and again when her second dragon betrayed her. Her sister had been the successful dragon rider, while she had been seen as a girl cursed to live forever on the ground. Not anymore. The gods had been good to her. The rest of the Targaryens were dead, but this one – this young girl, high in the sky – still drew breath. And now, she rode her dragon, who likewise drew breath – and that breath was fire.

The armies advanced against one another, each column moving forward steadily. Rhaena observed the banners of House Byrch on the enemy’s western flank, and supposed that her husband would be facing up against Lord Byrch himself. Jelmamza flapped her wings a few times as she kept herself stable in the uplift, content now for circling the battlefield as the battle lines came closer and closer. In sporadic waves, arrows flew from both sides, landing and dealing deadly blows. In the center and eastern flanks, the forces advanced in slow, certain tempos, banners fluttering in the wind.

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Rhaena leaned down. In a loud voice, heard above the flapping of Jelmamza’s winds and the gust of the wind, she declared, “Jem-Jem, burn them.”

The dragon let out a battle cry. She craned her neck, and at once both dragon and rider went down at a sharp angle towards the ground. Rhaena had no fear as the ground became as present before her as the horizon had been. As they neared the ground, just above the enemy’s center flank, Jelmamza lifted up her head and opened her mouth. A heat emanated from the the beast’s throat. A split second later, the dragon’s ugly face lunged forward. Fire blew from its mouth. The flames shot down like a great arm into into the middle of the rebel forces. Men cried as they were engulfed in flames. The dragon’s flames continued to spring forth from its throat, like the pouring of a waterfall. The reptile swung up, flapping its wings a few times as it straightened itself. The fire tore down the middle, then finally abated. Arrows flew up and around them. Rhaena felt the whiz of one by her ear, but she was untouched. As Jelmamza turned to her left, Rhaena glanced back. For a moment, she saw a line right down the middle of the enemy’s center column, with burnt corpses filling in the gap. A moment later, the enemy line reformed, as men tried to maintain as much discipline as possible.

Rhaena made another flame run, with as much the same result. Once again, arrows were lodged her way, and once again, they missed their mark. Now Rhaena turned to the other flanks. She saw that the western flanks for both forces had clashed mightily, and the hardest fighting of the battle so far had begun. By the way Lord Byrch’s forces had advanced further from the line, she presumed he had attempted a flanking maneuver. It was a poor choice: Rhaena knew that Rhaekar’s men were well trained, and all veterans of the Dance; Byrch’s men had done little more during the Dance than keep dust off the ramparts of Byrch Hall. Many of Byrch’s front-line men were in retreat, fleeing towards the rear. They moved through a line of men with large shields, who were pushing forward in an obvious attempt to turn the tide. Some of Rhaekar’s forces clashed against them, but made little headway.

Suddenly, as if he had sprung out of the ground, Rhaena saw a familiar warrior clad in dark armor spring forward from the battle line. It crashed against the shield wall, just missing the thrusts of spears and swords. With one strike, the man cut down one of the men at enemy combatants, sending him sprawling to the ground. For a moment, a hole in the shield wall formed – a hole which the rider used to his advantage. He rode his horse forward, swinging his sword one way, and then the other, to deadly effect. His men, spurned by the bravery, swarmed towards him. Before Lord Byrch’s men could reform, the hole had increase, and the line was crumbling apart.

The rider had survived, though blood of his enemies coated his armor and his horse’s sides. As the battle reached this critical moment, he reached up and tossed his helmet away. Long, silver hair tumbled out and flowed about his back. He held up his sword and gave out a cry before motioning towards his front. Lord Byrch’s men were no long in retreat, but in a route, with Rhaekar’s men in pursuit. The entire enemy western flank crumbled. Several knights took Rhaekar’s flanks, holding their swords aloft and crying out:

“UNICORN! UNICORN! UNICORN!”

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A heroic deed, Rhaena thought. And so… dashing...

With the western flank destroyed, Rhaekar turned his men against the center. Rhaena renewed her attacks with Jelmamza. Soon both the center and eastern flanks gave way, and the Byrch Hall levies fell apart. The battle was won.

Casualties for Lord Byrch had been great. Duskendale had only lost about 150 men, while almost 500 men could be accounted for from the enemy side. These were losses Lord Byrch could not afford, and everyone knew it. His forces retreated to Byrch Hall, which the Duskendale army promptly besieged. Soon a circle of unicorns had surrounded the plain castle, their upraised forms dancing about on the banners.

Rhaena had not seen much of Rhaekar after the battle. It had only been a day between then and the beginning of the siege, and Rhaekar had spent much of it with some of his men on patrol, securing the area around Byrch Hall. He returned the next night, joining his wife in her tent. He walked in as she was in her chemise, brushing her hair and preparing for bed. She turned and shot him a sharp look with her purple eyes. “What are you doing here, lord husband?”

Rhaekar raised an eyebrow. He took off his gloves, which, like much of his dark armor, had been covered in the dust and dirt of that day’s travels. “We sleep in the same bed during peace. I presumed it would be no different during war.”

An uneasy silence fell in the tent… but in Rhaena’s mind, there was no silence. Emotions, thoughts, and feelings plagued each other, attacking and shooting barbs. This insolent kingmaker! Kick him out! Kick him out at once! And yet, how handsome was he in battle the other day? Like a hero out of legend. Like someone from the tapestries of old. He was like Aegon the Conqueror, reborn. No, he is a traitor to the Targaryen line! He pledged loyalty to Rhaenyra, then betrayed her daughter! But was it really betrayal? And… was not the bed cold last night…?

“Was I wrong to presume as much?” Rhaekar asked. “I have never forced a woman to bed with me, and I am certainly not going to start as much with my wife.”

Rhaena’s mind suddenly went blank. She turned to the small mirror resting on the table before her. As the brush went back to her hair, a simple “Hm!” left her throat.

Rhaekar curled half his lip, then went over to the bedside. He untied his chest-piece, and began to disassemble it. They have no hope. Lord Hollard believes they might be done within a month or two. This war was far too easy.”

Though her face gazed at the Targaryen in the mirror, she watched the Valzyren out of the corner of her eyes. She watched as the chest piece came off, revealing the firm, broad shoulders and the slim waist. The tunic he wore did little to hide them – the sweat of the day had made them cling to him like a long lost lover. And… had it not been quite a while since they made love?

“Perhaps, lord husband.”

Rhaekar glanced Rhaena’s way, then back forward. He kicked off his boots, and then he began to tug at the tights clinging to his feet. “Rhaena… I know you have been upset with me. I cannot blame you. However, I must ask that you show more courteousness when you are around others. I cannot have Elonne or other servants thinking it is alright to insult me. I still deserve respect as your husband.”

Rhaena glanced down at her lap. Her hands, clutching the brush, were there. Her thumb ran along the handle gently.

“And Laena… I would like her to grow up seeing what a true relationship is like.”

Rhaena placed the brush on the desk before her. She turned her head, some of her silver locks tumbling over one of her shoulders. Rhaekar had taken off his shirt. She remembered their wedding night, when he had begun to undress. A wave of emotions came over her that she had not felt in months.

“If you do not love me, well...” Rhaekar sighed. “I cannot help that. But for Laena’s sake, and for the court’s sake, please, at least treat me as your lord husband.”

Rhaena stood up. She began to walk towards Rhaekar. Suddenly, she stopped. She stood there, a few feet from him, staring at him silently. Rhaekar turned and saw her. He tossed his tunic onto a nearby stool, and stared back. “What is it?”

Rhaena reached up and undid the knot at the top of her chemise. As she lowered her arms, it began to slide down her shoulders, her arms, over her body...

“I wish to apologize… lord husband...”

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Yeah! Finally! And by Rhaena!
Perfect as usual... And now more optimistic. As we are reading a GOT AAR, that means terrible deaths are to follow.
Also, why does Rhaena not speak Valyrian to her dragon? Burn them is not so impressive as Dracarys.
I liked it anyway. The unicorn strikes again.
 
Meanwhile, in Byrch Hall...
"I JUST WANTED A CANON CASTLE!" The lord screamed, angry.
"My lord, we told you that he had a dragon..." The Maester replied.
"IT'S A NON-CANON DRAGON!"
"It was canon enough to burn the army." The Master-at-Arms replied.
"SILENCE, YOU NON-CANON CHARACTER!"
"Gods, what have I done to have this guy as lord..."

---------
Jokes aside, great chapter as always. Happy to see that Rhaena and Rhaekar are repairing their relation.
 
So a possible sense of reconciliation ... but I remain cautious. There is still very many things between them.

Everything is in the look and glance ... again very restrained.
 
Huh, that was surprisingly easy. I thought that perhaps more lords had joined the enemy cause. I hope Rheana and Rheakar can continue to patch up their marriage. Annara must be disappointed about what a failure the rebellion turned out to be.
 
so, there was some action between them from time to time hehe
 
I can't help but feel that it's going to take more than one night of passion to mend the breach in the relationship, but it's a start at least, and the new child will hopefully be a good omen.

I can't help but feel that, really, Rhaena's "hatred" for Rhaekar stems more from frustration than actual malice. Beneath it all, she still cares for him; it seems she just wants him to realize that he was wrong, and to hear him admit it.

A further thought: It does seem slightly morbidly amusing how the rise and fall of Rhaena's passionate feelings for Rhaekar seem to be so closely linked with fire, death, and the mayhem of battle ;)
 
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Yeah! Finally! And by Rhaena!
Perfect as usual... And now more optimistic. As we are reading a GOT AAR, that means terrible deaths are to follow.
Also, why does Rhaena not speak Valyrian to her dragon? Burn them is not so impressive as Dracarys.
I liked it anyway. The unicorn strikes again.

Rhaena does not speak Valyrian to her dragon because I don't know Valyrian and I'm too lazy to look it up. Also GRRM has openly admitted he's no creative linguist like JRR Tolkien was, so fudge him and his made up languages.

Also, if Rhaena speaks anything to Jelmamza, it's gonna be Dovahzul.

"Jem-Jem, ag niin... ag niin enook..."

Meanwhile, in Byrch Hall...
"I JUST WANTED A CANON CASTLE!" The lord screamed, angry.
"My lord, we told you that he had a dragon..." The Maester replied.
"IT'S A NON-CANON DRAGON!"
"It was canon enough to burn the army." The Master-at-Arms replied.
"SILENCE, YOU NON-CANON CHARACTER!"
"Gods, what have I done to have this guy as lord..."

This is now a canon part of my AAR.

So a possible sense of reconciliation ... but I remain cautious. There is still very many things between them.

Everything is in the look and glance ... again very restrained.

I shall be known for looks and glances the way Richard Laymon is for butt descriptions.

Wait... no... I hope not...

Huh, that was surprisingly easy. I thought that perhaps more lords had joined the enemy cause. I hope Rheana and Rheakar can continue to patch up their marriage. Annara must be disappointed about what a failure the rebellion turned out to be.

Annara will be the focus of the next chapter, so you will find out.

so, there was some action between them from time to time hehe

It pays to have a wife with a "lustful" trait.

I can't help but feel that it's going to take more than one night of passion to mend the breach in the relationship, but it's a start at least, and the new child will hopefully be a good omen.

I can't help but feel that, really, Rhaena's "hatred" for Rhaekar stems more from frustration than actual malice. Beneath it all, she still cares for him; it seems she just wants him to realize that he was wrong, and to hear him admit it.

That's pretty much what I've been going for. Rhaena's bitterness towards Rhaekar is different than Annara's bitterness towards them both. Rhaena's is mostly superficial and dealing with their relationship, whereas Annara's is to the bone. Rhaena's bitterness is of the "go sleep on the couch tonight" variety, whereas Annara's is "go sleep in hell." Obviously, they're very different.

A further thought: It does seem slightly morbidly amusing how the rise and fall of Rhaena's passionate feelings for Rhaekar seem to be so closely linked with fire, death, and the mayhem of battle ;)

There's something about a strong, silver-haired man with broad shoulders and a handsome face standing in the midst of soldiers and being worshiped as a great warrior to ignite the fire in a woman.

Or maybe Rhaena is just a huge Elric of Melniboné fangirl...
 
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Chapter 21
Annara

That fool!

That blasted, wretched, ignorant fool!

Why did he rebel so soon? She was gracing him with plenty of time to conspire and form allies! He could have perhaps had the other lords under his spell within a month, if he had chosen to wait and play the political game! But no, no, no! He had to launch his revolt, thinking he could raise enough troops and use his personal skill in battle. Did he forget about the dragon? Did he forget how beloved the Unicorn was by his men? Did he forget the Unicorn’s skill in battle? Did he forget how to use any dropping of reason and intellect the Seven had given him?!

When news of the end of the rebellion had arrived at the Dun Fort, Annara had excused herself to her room and screamed in agony. She shrieked, paced about back and forth in a straight line, and tore at her hair. When that stupid, pretty little serving girl, Elonne, came to the door to check on her, Annara grabbed an empty brazier and tossed the heavy thing at the girl. Elonne ducked back into the hallway, the door closing just before the attack could prove effective. Annara had never liked that girl, any way. She makes one good first impression, and suddenly she’s the lady’s personal assistant? Pah. Annara could have done just as well.

The bloody Unicorn and his repulsive Dragon princess came back to the Dun Fort like a pair of victors. They rode together at the head of their returning army. Cheers came from the crowd at Duskendale as they gathered about to see the Lord and Lady in their procession. Roars came from that ugly reptile as it flew overhead, making loops in the air like a fish dancing out of water. In a cage, atop a creaking wagon, was Lord Monford Byrch himself. His body, which had always been somewhat impressive in armor, was now just fat and dumpy in brown tunics, and his chin seemed especially pronounced as he drooped it down. Vegetables and chunks of gods knows what were tossed at him from the populace. The captured rebel leader was taken to the Dun Fort, surrounded by soldiers to keep the angry crowds away. As the Unicorn and Dragon entered, a horn was blown from the ramparts.

Gods, if only Annara could have shoved those horn blowers off the edge. To see their brains splatter on the ground below would only make the sudden silence all the more sweeter...

As things settled back in the Dun Fort, a trial was held for Monford Byrch. Annara attended it, of course, as did the men on the council. Rhaekar, looking as cocky as he ever did, sat on his Duskendale throne, looking down from the dais at Lord Byrch, who was knelt before him in chains. That stupid dragon-slut stood beside him, her head held high and a subtle smile on her face as her half-opened purple eyes looked down at Byrch with all the airs of superiority. How Annara wanted to reach out and claw at that proud face of hers, and watch the blood seep from the open scratches as the stupid tart was forced into tears. Even if it had been the last thing she did before a guard ran her through, she would have enjoyed it.

Of course it wasn’t good for Lord Byrch. Albar, that stupid maester who only kept his post because Rhaekar loved him so much, read off the ancient laws of lordship and nobility. Lord Byrch had violated them by attempting to usurp his lord’s command, and for nothing but greed and avarice – at least, that was the charge. Annara could tell that almost all in the court were on the Unicorn’s side, even if most of them kept silent, and those which spoke only did so in low gasps or deep inhales. When all was said and done, Rhaekar finally spoke loudly for all to hear:

“Lord Byrch, your betrayal of your lord has made you unfit, before gods and men, of the service bestowed on you. However, your noble birth prevents us from giving you a murderer’s death, or a thief’s sentence. Therefore, as Lord of Duskendale, I hereby decree that you shall take the black, and serve the kingdoms as a member of the Night’s Watch. Your son Alaric shall inherit your lands. This sentence shall be carried out immediately.”

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So it was, with that sentence, that Monford Byrch was dragged away from the courtroom. Annara saw him being led by a guard out the Dun Fort the next day, headed North. She hoped he froze to death thinking about how stupid he had been. Lord of Duskendale? Let him be Lord of the Seven Hells. Perhaps the Others would return especially to slay him. Then again, if the legends were true that they raised the dead, would Annara truly want the chance to see Monford again? She declined to pursue that fantasy. While the former lord was led northward, the rest of his family – which had been captured with the taking of Byrch Hall, were ransomed off back home. Lord Rhaekar used the money to pay off much of the debt that the Dun Fort had accumulated, before and during the war.

Despite the immense disappointment Byrch had proven to be, Annara still had hope. The other lords had grown discontent, and continued to pursue plans to overthrow the Valyrian that had been thrust upon them in the Dun Fort. Many desired to see the Darklyns return to power, and were making plans to raise their banners in their name. These men would have gladly risen up alongside Monford Byrch, if only he’d been more patient. Yes, that Rhaena had her dragon, and yes, the Dun Fort could raise a sizable host, but all the lords united against them could overcome the power of the white-haired tyrants. This was what Annara was hoping on.

Word reached Annara, through her spy network, that Lord Rolland Hollard of Hollard Hall was planning to rebel and place himself in the Dun Fort, and had convinced Lord Jothos Harte of Brindlewood to work with him. Already this was off to a good start, as Lord Rolland proved to have a much better head on his shoulders than Lord Monford. Annara, of course, ignored much of these reports, most intentionally, and translated them into some “minor grumbling” among the nobility regarding “mercantile matters.” She was most happy when the news finally came that Lord Rolland and Lord Jothos had sent their ultimatum to the Dun Fort, and demanded the Rhaekar Valzyren step down. The Unicorn, of course, was far too proud to so, and refused the ultimatum. A fresh, new rebellion had begun.

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Annara was shocked, however, that Rhaekar did not have his wife awaken her pet dragon, or command that the levies be immediately marched out of the Dun Fort and towards the north. Instead, Annara found him shortly after the announcement of the war, speaking with his wife as he bounced his young daughter on his knee. As the little demon cooed and smiled, one would have expected this to be the scene in the cottage of the smallfolk, not a lord facing a major rebellion. The only thing that Annara noticed was, when Maester Alber came to join them, Rhaekar looked to the maester and asked, “Ah, Albar, did you send that uh… you know, that I gave you?” The maester nodded and pointed out the window.

A few days later, Annara discovered just what the “you know” was… a message to King Daeron himself. Rhaekar had appealed to the king to pass down authority from the Iron Throne. Lords Rolland and Jothe, knowing the king loved Rhaekar, and would make good on any threats, chose to change their plans and agree to a white peace. Rhaekar pardoned them, in return for a pledge of loyalty before the gods. So it was that this rebellion – without any blood being dropped or flames being lit – came to a sudden and abrupt end. Duskendale was again at peace… and a Valzyren still sat in lordship over the Dun Fort.

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That bloody Unicorn, came the thoughts in Annara’s head. That bloody Unicorn! Was he protected by the gods themselves? Every force that attempted to usurp him seemed to only make him stronger! He had survived the Dance and made a king! He had survived a rebellion and sent a lord to the Wall! He had survived another rebellion with the blessing of the very king he had created! All this only continued to make him seem more esteemed among the smallfolk and his peers! The very aggravation of it all made Annara wish to scratch her eyes out! As she paced the floor of her room, moving in a circle in a near-run, she very nearly did scratch her eyes out, in the hopes of never seeing this world again. If the Darklyns were ever to be restored to the Dun Fort, or if ever these Valyrians were to fall, it would have to be by first undoing Rhaekar. Only when he was removed, could Annara see this come to fruition. Yet despite this simple reality, making it happen was hardly simple.

Annara leaned against the wall and planted her head against the stone. There just didn’t seem to be any way to undo him. Rhaekar would be the Unicorn Prince, and he would be the Unicorn Prince forever…

Then Annara opened her eyes. She stared forward. Her mind was busy.

A smile curled over her lips.

The Unicorn Prince unbeatable? No… there are other ways… there always other ways…
 
Annara is getting increasingly frustrated, and I would not necessarily think whatever her new venture is well-thought out for all that she has calmed her fury somewhat.
 
Though I know author's love to take a routine event and turn it into an interesting chapter, I doubt that Annara's thoughts are just a way to show her opinion of Rhaekar. Something is going to happen in game. Something important... And it won't be good.
 
Seven Hells Annara, you really need to calm down. Have you tried some cyvasse? Or yoga?

Archmaesters at the Citadel are working on a new herb whose working name is "the chill pill."

Annara is getting increasingly frustrated, and I would not necessarily think whatever her new venture is well-thought out for all that she has calmed her fury somewhat.

You will soon see.

Though I know author's love to take a routine event and turn it into an interesting chapter, I doubt that Annara's thoughts are just a way to show her opinion of Rhaekar. Something is going to happen in game. Something important... And it won't be good.

Maybe... maybe not... maybe maybe...
 
it is good when the King owes you the throne
 
I finally caught up and.. oh boy, a lot has happened and in just 2 YEARS??? I thought it was more like 5 years or something. As people are used to say nowdays to someone who is raging or angry, I dare say, Annara, calm your tits.

To be honest, I'm really impressed by how you make her such an unlikable character, that is really worth of mention. And also, pretty nice way to handle that second rebellion. Hopefully Duskendale can prosper again in the future.