Chapter 1: Exile and Conqueror - 0 A.L.
Fire and Faith - The Summer Dragon
Table of Contents
Chapter 1: Exile and Conqueror - 0 A.L. [Opening Post]
Belono I
Aemon I
Doshuru I
Belono II
Chapter 2: Love and Hate in Oldtown - 0 A.L.
Aemon II
Petola I
Belono III
Aemon III
Chapter 3: The Citadel - 0 A.L.
Belono IV
Aemon IV
Belono V
Chapter 4: To our Home - 0 A.L.
Petola II
Belono VI
Aemon V
Chapter 5: Fate of a Dragon - 0 A.L.
Theo I
Petola III
Belono VII
Aegon I
Chapter 6: The Marriage and Royal Visit - 1 A.L.
Aemon VI
Chapter 7: The Dragonlord of Golden Head - 1 A.L.
Theo II
Aemon VII
Mermesbhar I
Aemon VIII
Petola IV
Table of Contents
Chapter 1: Exile and Conqueror - 0 A.L. [Opening Post]
Belono I
Aemon I
Doshuru I
Belono II
Chapter 2: Love and Hate in Oldtown - 0 A.L.
Aemon II
Petola I
Belono III
Aemon III
Chapter 3: The Citadel - 0 A.L.
Belono IV
Aemon IV
Belono V
Chapter 4: To our Home - 0 A.L.
Petola II
Belono VI
Aemon V
Chapter 5: Fate of a Dragon - 0 A.L.
Theo I
Petola III
Belono VII
Aegon I
Chapter 6: The Marriage and Royal Visit - 1 A.L.
Aemon VI
Chapter 7: The Dragonlord of Golden Head - 1 A.L.
Theo II
Aemon VII
Mermesbhar I
Aemon VIII
Petola IV
Hello.
Here I am again, inspired by the many great AGOT AARs I've found scattered here in the forum. I've got high hopes for this one.
The way I want chapters to work is: Each chapter is a very important event or series of events for the character under the player's control. It is subdivided into various perspectives from the different characters involved. It's very freeflow and subject to change, but I really enjoy exploring perspectives, so read each of the 'subchapters' as if they were the character's perspective. Sometimes they may be wrong, sometimes they may be right.
Here I am again, inspired by the many great AGOT AARs I've found scattered here in the forum. I've got high hopes for this one.
The way I want chapters to work is: Each chapter is a very important event or series of events for the character under the player's control. It is subdivided into various perspectives from the different characters involved. It's very freeflow and subject to change, but I really enjoy exploring perspectives, so read each of the 'subchapters' as if they were the character's perspective. Sometimes they may be wrong, sometimes they may be right.
Many generations ago, one of the Targaryen branches turned to the faith of the Seven.
The Targaryens, enraged by their scions’ betrayal, removed any legitimacy they might’ve had over the throne of Dragonstone and banished them to the hold of House Celtigar.
The proud converts decided to adopt a new name for their house, Brightflame, to represent their undying devotion to the Faith.
The sigil of House Brightflame. Seven seven-pointed red stars on a black field, mimicking the colors of the Targaryens.
‘Fire and Faith’ became their words, and always did they defend that the path towards the future was to forget the Dragon Gods.
Aemon Brightflame saw his family’s homestead burn as he sailed away on a poor man’s ship. Aegon Targaryen was responsible for the incident, he had been planning to invade Westeros for a few years now. He wanted no loose ends that may undermine his authority as Dragon King.
Aemon clutched a reliquary close to his heart as the ship sailed. Therein lied the hope of Brightflame, according to his fallen father.
Targaryen persecution was relentless. The Brightflame’s ship only ever stopped to gather supplies and then sailed again. There was only one way to stop the Targaryens from following them…
Introductory Chapters
Belono I
Belono had been serving the young man’s father for years now, the man had hired him in the port of the Velaryons after engaging in a mummer’s joust there. Belono hadn’t told anyone that he was but a lowborn mummer that knew a trick or two, some information had to be withheld after all. Not that he was bad with the sword, just that he hadn’t been knighted, yet. Still, Aemon’s father had promised him to give him a knighthood if he served his family well.
Now, that all had gone to the shitter. The Targaryens were relentless, barely anything could be saved from the surprise attack. The ship, its crew, a few tens of soldiers, enough gold to pay them for the trip, and some personal belongings of young Aemon.
Aemon Brightflame held on to his reliquary as he looked on towards the expanse of the Narrow Sea. His dirtied hair flowed with the wind, the taste of salt was everywhere and the sound of the waves crashing against the ship were all that could be heard. They had been heading south for weeks on end and still the pirates’ ships could be spotted on the horizon.
“My Lord, the Targaryens’ hired swords are slowly closing in. They will eventually reach us.” Belono had to yell for Aemon to hear him.
Aemon looked back towards Belono, who saw his hazel eyes full of fear and doubt. Belono could see it, the poor boy’s life had been destroyed in but an instant. His parents, his siblings, all gone in but a day. And now here they were, fleeing to nowhere under the command of a boy who’d only seen ten and six namedays.
The boy’s voice quivered and broke, but still he managed to yell out a question. “What are our options?”
Belono shrugged and let his mind ponder a bit, then answered back with a yell. “They’ll follow us as long as we follow the coast, that’s for sure. Pirates are relentless and have no fear of spending a long time at sea.”
Aemon’s eyes darted towards the expanse beyond the Narrow Sea. “The Summer Islands are this way, yes?” He shrieked, his young voice tearing.
One of the crew answered back. “Aye, a bit of a ways off though. Not following the coast is dangerous.”
Belono looked at the crew who spoke out of turn and was about to admonish him, but the silver-haired lordling stopped him and approached the old bodyguard.
“Belono.” He said. “Tell the crew and the men that we’re heading to the Summer Islands.”
Belono was dumbfounded. “What? No one will welcome us there, my lord. They have no reason to.”
Aemon’s quivering young voice didn’t seem fitting with his next sentence. “We do. We have swords and Faith.”
The young man looked down to his reliquary. “And soon…”
He paused for a few seconds, opening the hatch ever so slightly to show what was inside.
“We’ll have Fire.”
The dragon egg shone bright.
Aemon I
Weeks had passed since the boat stopped at Lys to restock before the final departure towards the south. The Summer Sea was warm, calm. Aemon was on deck, looking to the south, to his destiny. The winds barely blew on the sails of Brightmaiden, his family’s pride, a large trade ship that had sailed the Narrow Sea hundreds of times. It was old, but it was beautifully carved from Stormlander wood.
He remembered his father’s tales of their house’s past. For generations, they had worked hard to get on the good graces of the Celtigars and be allowed to sail the Narrow Sea on trade ventures. They ceded after years of pleading, and the Brightflames were eventually known for their lucrative voyages between Essos and Westeros.
And now… Nothing remained of that. Only Brightmaiden.
Aemon sighed.
The wood behind him creaked, he turned back and saw Belono. The man claimed he was a Valyrian from Essos, Aemon believed him, not that it mattered too much, considering the situation.
“My lord.” Belono’s pale blond hair interrupted him, sweeping into his eyes. “Agh!” The man cursed and moved it off the way. “On the Seven, as soon as we reach shore I’ll cut this whole thing away.”
Aemon laughed, Belono would always be the Jousting Mummer to him. The man tried to behave like a proper knight, but he often floundered on his fancy words. “What is it, Belono?”
“Our spotter has seen shore, to the southwest. It’s the Summer Islands.”
Aemon looked to the direction Belono was pointing. He bit his lower lip. It was a faint sight in the horizon, but it was true. Land. They hadn’t seen land in so long. “Are we sure it’s the Summer Islands?”
“Yes, my lord. In fact, according to the spotter, we ran right into a bay, there is more land around us.” Belono approached Aemon and stood by his side. “According to one of the sellswords, there is only one bay we could’ve reached without hitting land beforehand; Golden Bay.”
The small string of land was slowly elevating itself in front of Aemon’s eyes, the ship sailed towards it at a snail’s pace, yet anticipation was killing him. “Wh-what do we know of it?” His voice flickered.
“It’s mainly controlled by one of the Islander princes who resides in a palace called Golden Lodge, it has the biggest forest of goldenheart in the Isles, a tree whose wood is well prized by the world at large, and… Little else is known.” Belono pondered, trying to find out if he forgot something, but shrugged.
Aemon’s eyes were fixated on the land beyond. His pose had straightened itself, his expression was now as serious as could be. “We will conquer Golden Lodge, then.”
Belono looked at the boy. “If my lord allows me, I would reconsider.”
“Fire and Faith, Belono.” Aemon responded.
The former mummer turned around and made sure that no one was listening in on them, then turned back to continue speaking with hazel-eyed child. “Lord Aemon. We barely have a hundred men. The lord of the Golden Lodge will probably have thousands guarding his lands.”
“Surprise is on our side, Belono. The Warrior will grant us victory, I know it.” Aemon responded.
Belono sighed and spat towards the sea below. “My lord, a hundred will not be convinced to conquer the lands of the Islanders solely on the Seven’s promise. Half of them don’t even believe in the Seven.”
Aemon’s eyes continued to stare at the horizon, the thin line beyond sprang up slowly. “We can’t be mere exiles. I won’t allow my life to be that of a courtier at the whim of an Islander prince.”
A silence reigned for a while, until Aemon spoke again. “The Brightflames will never be exiles again.”
Doshuru I
It was a strange sight, over a hundred armed men storming into his family’s ancestral home. The ebony-skinned Islander prince was on his way to flee towards his house, he had his sword and bow and strung his panther fur around his neck. He spoke to his guards in the Summer Tongue, the words drifted around like water in the sea.
“So, some sort of Lyseni boy and his host of men simply stormed the castle?”
One of the guards, bearing the traditional wooden shield and lance, along with a silver pelts’ namesake on his back, nodded back to him. “Yes, my Prince. They stormed through the front entrance in droves. We don’t know who they are working with.”
Doshuru cursed and spat on the ground. “The children?”
“Safely evacuated, Prince.”
Two of his monkey guards took up the vanguard and opened the doors before him, the wooden hallways glistened with the shine of the golden wood. His family’s pride. The Babiakus had been living here for generations, ruling over the Principality of Golden Head.
“Are the Talking Trees still standing?”
“Yes, my Prince. We believe the invaders don’t even know what they are.”
“So they weren’t hired by that bastard Udo. Who could they be-“
A scream interrupted Doshuru’s sentence. One of the two monkey guards was on the ground, squirming and holding to a bleeding stab wound in his gut. Doshuru’s guards drag the Prince back towards another hall, trying to hold off the attackers, but their path is swiftly interrupted. A tall, gruff Lyseni looking man and two sellswords stand infront of them, their blades bloodied.
“Surrender, Prince.” He says in a botched Summer Tongue.
Doshuru answers in Valyrian. “What do you want from us? Gold? Slaves? Golden wood?”
The short-haired Lyseni stands back, showing the young man behind him. Another Lyseni?
The young man with purple eyes and silver hair steps forward and, in perfect Valyrian, says: “Your title.”
Belono II
It had been a few months since Aemon had conquered this accursed part of the island of Jhala. Apparently, the vassals of the old fat Prince could barely care about Aemon’s conquest. It’s not the first time a corsair came by and conquered the Golden Head before being kicked out by the other Princes of Jhala and the Babiakus were reinstated.
Last month, the two local lordlings Mermesbhar of Tamarinu and Chibundo of the island of Lizard Head presented themselves in front of Aemon. They were surprised to see such a clean youth in front of them instead of some gruff pirate lord from the Stepstones. Nevertheless, they swore an oath and left as swiftly as they came. Aemon then asked one of the septons that came along aboard the ship to bless him as Lord Aemon Brightflame of Golden Head. The rite was short, and the only men present were those who came with the ships.
Meanwhile, back in Westeros, Aegon had begun his conquest of the continent atop his dragons, proclaiming himself as King of the Seven Kingdoms. One King, seven Kingdoms. It didn’t sound so good to Belono, a bit overreaching, maybe. Even if those Targaryen have dragons of their own, controlling something as vast as Westeros seemed unrealistic.
Belono slapped his neck, another one of the bloodsucking insects of the Summer Isles. This accursed jungle was hot, humid, and prowling with beasts and nefarious insects. He checked his hand and saw the splattered mosquito there, some of his own blood streaming out of it.
“Curse this rotten shithole.” Belono said to himself, his tone full of poison. Not even in the fat Prince’s mansion’s balcony was he safe from the buggers.
“It’s not that bad, Belono.” Aemon’s voice rang out from behind him. The young boy still wore the clothes that his father had brought him. Belono knew better though, the locals’ wide clothes and sometimes lack of clothes were shining examples on how to deal with this climate.
Belono straightened up and gave a slight bow. “Excuse me, my lord. I was talking about one of these accursed insects.”
Aemon headed towards the balcony’s ledge. “Don’t worry about it. I also think this place is most unwelcoming to strangers. We must simply adapt.”
Belono smirked. “I’ve seen my lord adapt to some of the local girls.”
The young Valyrian’s face turned red. “I did not-“ He shut himself up, trying to get his composure back. “I’ve only been trying to learn the local traditions.”
“I know the local traditions well, lord Aemon. I’ve had the pleasure of taking part in them in Lys.”
“They also have Talking Trees and a myriad gods there?”
“Oh, uh… No.” Belono responded. The boy didn’t seem to know about the other part of Islander society, or maybe he refused the women who came from the village nearby? “How goes the reliquary?” Belono swiftly changed subjects.
“No signs.” Aemon responded. “I’ve been busy enough setting up trade for the golden wood with the traders who came looking.”
“The trade ships of Walano?”
“Yes. It seems the local Prince had a lucrative deal with the Walano Princes. I’ve done naught but renew it. They bring tin, iron and many ores along with some gold, in exchange for this precious wood. This was a good landing spot, in the end. We now have this strategic resource and we get ways to arm our people with it.”
Our people. Aemon already spoke of the locals as his own people. The kid was peculiar in that way. Bold and brash, yet caring. “Are you well, my lord?”
Aemon nodded. “I miss my home. I miss my parents, my siblings and my friends. But all this I do in their memory.”
Belono look towards the horizon as did Aemon. “My lord is strong, for someone with six and ten namedays.”
A smile drew itself upon Aemon’s visage. “Thank you, Belono.” A comfortable silence reigned as the jungle’s sounds resonated in the area and the Islanders’ strange tongue was heard across the mansion. “I’ve been trying to learn some of their words, and also learn how use the relic. But I’m missing something important.”
Belono looked at his liege, confused. “What is it?”
“Information, books. These people inscribe their tales and legends in the Talking Trees, but its language is still too foreign to me, and none of them speak of what I have.”
The old Essosi took a hand to his chin and scratched it, thinking. “Well, places with books. I only know of the Citadel.”
Aemon’s wide smile made Belono realize what the boy wanted to do. “You want to head back to Westeros?!” Belono yelled. “But… If the Targaryens know that you still live…”
“They won’t, we’ll pose as Lyseni historians, you and I. Aegon is stuck fighting in the Riverlands against Iron King Harren. He won’t have time to conquer all of Westeros by the time we should be done…” Aemon recited his plan as if he’d been planning it ever since he came here. The boy had quick mind, Belono knew, old lord Aenys had told him so.
“… Then after that, which I’ll predict will take around two weeks, we’ll hop back on our ships and head back home.”
“Home?” Belono asked.
“You are full of questions today, Belono. I’m talking about this home, the Golden Lodge.” Aemon replied.
Belono shook his head. “Of course, my lord. Excuse me.” Aemon looked to the future, Belono was stuck in the past. The things age does.
The preparations took a week longer than Aemon had anticipated, but by the time they were done, their guise as Lyseni historians was fully ready. Aemon was a man of learning under orders of Vaelar Sathmantes, the Magister of Lys, who wished to learn more about dragons and dragonfire, and Belono was a sellsword tasked with protecting him. It was a good cover, considering the constant ambitions of Essosi lords to reach the power of the dragons.
Their ship, imported directly from Lys after a secret sale of golden wood to a prominent Lyseni trader, departed towards Oldtown.
Belono sat at deck, looking at the disappearing coastline of his new home.
“I wonder if that Islander gal had feelings for me.” He pondered as he tapped his foot rhythmically on the wooden boards.
The Summer Islands - 0 After Landing
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