House Targaryen
157 years after Aegon's Landing
Chapter 1: The Conquest of Dorne, Part One
Books old and new lay in front of me, placed on a shelf in a logic only I understood. As I looked at them absent-mindedly, a sudden realization struck me. These books and scrolls were my life. If only I knew how many hours I'd spent, pouring over the pages time after time in candle light, all the way to dawn when I no longer had need of it, and to the point beyond. This had been my childhood, but that time was now over. My father's death had seen to that. His throne, his sword and his kingdoms were now mine, along with the legacy of my house and what came with it, my family being the last remnants of Old Valyria.
All people have a legacy to uphold, even the lowest of us. They may live on with their life not knowing that and think while laying abed, waiting for death to come, that their life was meaningless and changed the surrounding world only little, but that is not true. Each action taken by you takes you further in this story called life. Each child you father will have sons of his own to the point that world ends. How many generations, how many lives lived and ended that will take - who knows. I only know that the time of those before me is over and those to come after me has not yet begun. This is my time, my chance to change everything and leave my mark in this world. The book of life is not solely mine, but writing this chapter is my priviledge.
How future generations will remember my name, or if they'll know me at all, is something I nowadays find myself pondering. Will the name
Daeron Targaryen live on in songs and books, or will it be forgotten like so many things? How will those stories go? Will I be the hero - or the villain? Knowing what turn the tale will have and if it'll have a happy ending is yet beyond my reach, but each step that I take, I take closer to finding that truth.
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If there's one good thing people are good in, it is remembering. What is forgiven is never forgotten. The Dance divided my people in two, and while my father Aegon and uncle Viserys did their best to mend the damage, even they could not undo everything that was done. That never-ending task continues, now by my hand. To unite my people I am giving them a common goal, a common enemy. The independent kingdom of Dorne lies on my doorstep, their existence a continued reminder of my ancestor's failure to unite all of Westeros. I decided to finish what was left undone as my first act as King of Westeros and hope that gods would not make it also my last.
There are only few things the nobility of Westeros understand as well as war. As much as my highborn vassals would like to consider themselves above others, they're still prone to the same emotions as every other person in known world. War represents hate, and to extinguish its flames one needs to counter it. The opposite of hatred is love, of course. It is a tool where any other, used through marriage to bind families together and to make old enemies future friends.
House Hightower of Oldtown served my family well in the past. One of them served as Hand of the King and provided my great grand-father with a new queen after the death of my great grand-mother. That all was a beginning of an era that many now dread thinking of, but I do not fear the past. To show the realm that my heart is neither green nor black, I offered to take one of Lord Hightower's nieces as my queen. In the end an agreement was made to betroth myself to the third daughter of Lord Hightower's Brother and my aunt Rhaena, Lady Lia Hightower, who was closest to my age of the seven daughters their parents had.
While some no doubt wondered why I did not wish to be married to one of my three sisters and thereby continue the tradition of keeping the bloodline of my house pure, Lia was my cousin and half Targaryen, even if her hair did not show it. My sisters had a part to play in uniting the kingdoms to my cause as well. To win their support for this war, I arranged betrothals for my two younger sisters but left the eldest and dearest to me, Daena, unpromised. Rhaena would wed Lord Jaesin Lannister, heir to Casterly Rock.
Though Lannister blood had run green during the Dance, they had suffered like the rest of the realm. Lord Tyland Lannister, then Master-of-Coin was tortured, blinded and castrated in an effort to squeeze information about the crown's treasury's whereabouts. He lived but did not
see the end of war, and was later named as Hand of the King by my father. This had happened after Lord Cregan ruled for a single, dark day as a Hand, and before my uncle Viserys returned from Essos and was named to that position. It did not go unnoticed that two of the royal blood were to wed the descendants of former
'Green's, but I was not done yet.
The youngest, Elaena's way would lead to Winterfell, for North is not the only region that remembers. Lord Cregan Stark, nowadays more commonly known down south as 'the Old Man of North', had pledged his sword to my grand-mother Rhaenyra during the Dance in exchange of a promise that a Targaryen princess would one day wed into his family. I kept her word and though Lord Cregan expressed worry and counseled me to remain vigilant that history would not repeat itself, refering to the newly-made ties to his old enemies, he told me in a letter that he would not oppose my will. Instead the Starks had called their banners, and Northmen would once again follow a Targaryen king to war.
A region one after another declared to side with the crown; Tyrells, Baratheons, Tullys, Starks, Lannisters - but no word came from the Vale. Lord Jonothor Arryn refused to raise his banners and decided to sit and watch the war unfold, taking no part in it himself. At the time I didn't see the reason behind his decision, but later I learned that his sister had recently married the great-uncle of Prince Marence Martell. The Dornish was playing the game just as I was, making moves with his pawns. And the greatest of them was soon revealed to the world.
The Iron Fleet sailed, but not under dragon banner.
Lord Veron Greyjoy, a rogue like his ancestors, ruled the Iron Isles with stern grip. His people were hard folk, groomed for war, raiding and plundering, not born to bend their knees nor to sow. He saw this declaration of war as a chance to win his own freedom from the united kingdom of Westeros. My plan to invade Dorne had always been a dangerous one, but it had become more than that now. If I failed in my conquest, not only would Dorne remain independent but I would also lose one of the kingdoms in my realm. The Ironborn, should they no longer be bound to the Iron Throne, would no doubt bring much harm to the shores of Sunset Sea.
To stop the Greyjoys from making this war even bloodier, I made moves to bring Lord Veron, or rather, King Veron as he now called himself, in chains before me. There were those at his court who saw the same as I, that he could not win the war but would only bring more destruction and death to his folk. Even his master of whisperers sided with me in this plot.
But soon King Veron was out of my reach. He departed the Isles along with his fleet, heading south down the Westerosi shoreline. I received reports from my vassals of counteractions taken against them, with Tullies moving nine thousand men to Seagard and Lord Hightower keeping his men at home. My lords also advised me to keep King's Landing manned to defend the capital and the royal family until we knew where the Ironborn were headed.
When we received reports that fourteen thousand Ironborn had landed in Sunspear, I decided it was time to move. I left a garrison of six thousand men in King's Landing and took ten thousand men with me, sailing to the northern shores of Dorne. Lord Corwen Baratheon was already moving down the Boneway to Dornish lands and besieged the home of House Yronwood, but alone they were vulnerable against the numerous Dornish.
(House Greyjoy, a family of traitors, sides with Dorne)
The Crownlander army landed in Ghaston Grey, a grim island just north of Dorne, used by their overlords as a prison for criminals of worst kind. It was quickly taken an turned into a port for my fleet where I could launch an attack to anywhere in Dorne and at the same time protect my vassals, should the enemies seek a battle. Taking Ghaston Grey was my first victory. I was fourteen at the time.
The Dornish had some five and thirty-thousand men, along with fourteen thousand Ironborn. One of their hosts, greater in number than mine, was soon on its way to Ghaston Grey. Despite the numbers I refused to set sail and abandon my first conquest. The island of Ghaston Grey was far too important strategically, so I saw to the defences of the old prison and told my men to hold it.
Taking Ghaston Grey was not so hard as holding it. Trying to convince my men that this would be the first battle of this war and its effects would ripple through the realm and show my vassals that this conflict could be won, I walked the battlements of the ruined keep and bolstered my men for the battle to come. When the Dornish finally arrived on small boats to the shores of Ghaston Grey, just a walk away from the prison itself, we were ready.
Lord Commander Caron held the center, whereas the brother of Lord Corwen Baratheon, Sarmion the Stormbreaker was left in charge of the right flank. I myself commanded the left. And soon the Dornish were upon us. Though we had the advantage of walls and their lines were unorganised due to landing and then swiftly moving to attack, they had many more men. Before me I saw the banners of House Uller, their men led by none other than the noble lady Joslena. House Cargalen was tasked with their other flank, whereas General Ricasso represented Prince Marence on the battlefield since the Martells themselves had not joined this force.
The walls of Ghaston Grey were not so formidable as they had once been, having suffered damage when my host first took it. Soon the Dornish were upon us, scaling the walls and sending arrows flying to our direction. Where men screamed in agony or fury, dying or killing, I was more alive than ever before.
So this is how it feels, I thought as I shouted commands to my men, telling them to hold the walls and fight off the enemy.
As the battle raged on, I left the battlements, accompanied by the Dragonknight and the other Kingsguard with the exception of Lord Commander who was tasked to hold the center. Below the walls awaited my strike force, a host of heavy infantry, commanded to stay as reserve and to strike at my command. That time had come.
My grip around the hilt of Blackfyre tightened as I led the men out of the sidegate and plunged to the flank of the Dornish, still preparing to grapple up to the walls. Surprise gave us a good start, but soon the rest of the Dornish army was aware of our presence and turned their attention to the smaller force and the dragon banner that announced my presence in the field. Their focus now turned from the walls to my men and myself, giving more space to my force that still held the higher ground.
Too concentrated on bringing my men down and attempting to capture me, the defenders of Ghaston Grey rained arrows upon the Dornish, scattering their lines, whereas my infantry cut through their flank towards the center. I do not remember how it happened, but at one point I stumbled. Suddenly I saw myself gazing the sky, and a nearby Dornish decided to take advance of the situation. He charged head-on, cutting through two of my men, readying himself to kingslaying. I thought all hope was lost, but suddenly one of my men-at-arms threw himself in the way of the enemy, blocking the spear with his body. The moment I regained my footage, I avenged the death of my stalward savior. Thought this was the first man I'd killed, my thoughts later lingered only on the man that he'd ended.
The battle soon turned to victory. My forces left the walls elsewhere and plunged through holes in the wall and gates, meeting the Dornish force in close combat. Their lines still unorganised from landing, we sent them routing back to their small ships. The day was ours and the first battle of the war was won. In the end our casualties were as high as our enemy's, but Lord Gargalen lay dead, slain by the sword of none other than my Kingsguard 'Red Robert' Flowers.
As the Dornish returned to their shore, I saw to my wounded and repaired the defences of Ghaston Grey. General Ricasso soon was discarded the command of his host and that task was left in the hands of Lord Aidan Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. The Greyjoy host had moved from Sunspear to reinforce the beaten Dornish army, and I awaited with dread for their next move. They now outnumbered my men over three-to-one.
At the same time House Massey, bannermen of mine, decided to declare for Dorne as well. Most of my men were engaged in Dorne, but the garrison of six thousand men was soon called to action and under Lord Rosby, headed to bring the men of House Massey down.
But I was not alone. The Tyrell fleet had arrived north of Dorne, having come to my aid. A small Baratheon host also lay siege to Yronwood, a thing that did not go unnoticed to Lord Martell. Knowing he now had the superior numbers, he moved together with his Greyjoy ally to wipe out the Stormlanders. As they marched, we sailed.
The Baratheon host, supported by both Targaryens and Tyrells, met the Dornish outside Yronwood. At first we were heavily outnumbered and disorganised by our swift landing, but a host of Northerners joined us for the battle, reinforcing our lines with their men. Lord Reed even assumed the command of the center after Lord Commander Caron became too involved in the fighting, deciding to lead with his example if not his commands.
Our right flank, initially commanded by Lord Sarmion 'the Stormbreaker' Baratheon, Commander of the City Watch of King's Landing, was beginning to crumble. As the Tyrells moved to join our lines, Lord Peake assumed the command from him. But even he could not stop the men from routing. As I saw our lines break, a sudden fear overtook me, a fear that we might actually be losing this battle.
Seeing our men flee from the battle, Lord Aidan Dayne seized the moment. He personally joined the fray, trying to cut his way to me. With the ancient heirloom of his family, the legendary sword Dawn at his hands, he cut down men left and right, to the point where I could see him from atop my horse. Our gazes met for just a heartbeat, and I gripped the hilt of Blackfyre all the harder. But his eyes then turned to the man beside me, clad in white armor and white cloak. Holding blood-stained Dark Sister, the other Valyrian steel sword of our house in his hands, Aemon the Dragonknight stood sternly by my side.
Where the Sword of the Morning a moment ago had been determined to kill the king and end the war, he now considered his choices. To face me, he'd have to cut his way through my cousin, a foe even he was not sure he could beat. Making his decision, Lord Aidan continued fighting other foes and the battle took him further away from us.
The northerners in the center were soon reinforced by forces of Oldtown, led by Lord Leyton Hightower himself. The knights of the Reach cut through the ranks of Dornish center, dividing their host into two. Even the Sword of the Morning could not turn the tide of the battle and was forced to retreat and let us seize the day.
(Lord Leyton Hightower's arrival broke the Dornish center and started a rout even their generals could not stop)
The Battles of Ghaston Grey and Yronwood had shown our enemies what we were capable of. Both battles had been close calls, one won by an advantage given us by environment and the other due to reinforcements that arrived throughout the battle. But it was not just battles that we'd won. The Reachmen had taken Starfall, home of Lord Aidan Dayne, and the Tullies had marched down Prince's Pass - even if with heavy casualties.
Overall I was confident that we could make our enemies bend their knees. But at the time I did not yet know what perils I was soon facing, for the war was far from done.