The Blood of the Dragons - A Targaryen AAR

[Magnetic Hyena]

The Blood of the Dragons​

A History of House Targaryen from 160 AL​

Prologue​

"For a century and a half, the dragon lords of Westeros fixed their eyes southwards towards the lands that hung under the burning Dornish sun. When Aegon I and his wives first landed at the mouth of the Blackwater Rush, he proclaimed there could only be one king of Westeros, and over the ensuring years, one by one, the great and powerful lords of the seven kingdom's fell, either bending the knee to their conqueror, or be burned in the flames of dragon fire. However, one of the kingdom's remained vigilant against the Valyrian invader, the southern land of Dorne, ruled from sunspear by the house Martell. Despite his best attempts, the first Targaryen king could not force the Dornishmen to submit with his dragons, nor his successors Aenys or Maegor, Jaehaerys or Viserys, the second Aegon or the third; none of the great and terrible kings that sat upon the Iron Throne could force the the Martell's to bend their knees, and for one-hundred and fifty years after the conquests of Aegon and his sister-wives, Sunspear remains unbowed, unbent and unbroken, independent from the kingdom of Andals and the First Men; a conquest left unfinished."

Maester Durran stopped reading for a moment and turned towards his young ward, Pate Wagstaff, placing the large book down on the old wooden table. The morning was a cold one, unusual for any at Adderhall. The courtyard was alive from sun-up that day, Lord Lester Wagstaff and his small retinue of knights and warriors training in the large open field that was adjacent to the small stone fort that the Wagstaff family boastfully called a castle. Pate never wanted to be educated by a maester, having to sit at the small table everyday, being forced to listen to and old fool talk for hours on end about dragons and battles and histories whilst the outside world continued pleading to the young boy to break free from the old chains of his teacher and create his own history, fight in his own battles. Perhaps he thought, perhaps I may ride a dragon one day. Instead he was kept here, looked after by his mother and his guardian-maester whilst his father fought for his liege at Storm's End and his King at King's Landing.

"Young Pate" Maester Durran said, his chains shining in the early morning sun, "Do you know what this metal signifies?".

Pate looked at the red-orange chain-link, trying to remember the lessons he had spent studying the different metals and what they stood for when they were forged for the maesters, but for the life of him he could not remember.

"This link is of copper, one of twenty-five links that I have been awarded for my training at the Citadel. It signifies that I have studied the histories of Westeros and its people, and ever since I was given it by Archmaester Unwin eighty years ago, I've been in service to your family, and in that time, I have seen many things my young lord".

"Have you ever seen a dragon". Despite his hatred for having to be told the histories of Westeros, Pate often fawned over dragons. Stories of the conquest, when men were bathed in the flames of their conqueror sent both fear and excitement into the heart of the young boy, as well as his brothers and sisters.

"I saw them once" the maester replied, his feeble hand rubbing his temple as if he was trying to recall something from long ago. "I once saw Vermithor, the great mount of King Jaehaerys. When I was training as a boy in the Citadel, the old king travelled with his wife to Oldtown. A thousand-thousand people clambered to see the king and his dragon that day, and if I wasn't in the Citadel that day, I may never have saw the beast in it's glory."

"What do you mean?".

"During the day, I remained locked with the archmaestar Unwin, left to study and read his papers. The day the king arrived, I looked out the window from one of the tallest rooms in the tower, and that's where I saw it; a great grey dragon, I large wings that sounded like thunder every-time they beat, and a head as large as a carriage, with teeth as large as longswords and as sharp as Valryian steel. It breathed great flames into the sky the first night it arrived, and every time it shot flame into the air I could feel the heat. I remember it completely."

Durran stood up out of his chair, taking a drink water as he did so. Pate looked completely memorized. If only they had lived. The thought of the death of dragons disappointed him, as many had seen the beast in their days of glory, when they built great lairs into the steaming volcanic mountains of Dragonstone, when great men and women rode their backs, each performing a deadly dance as flames beat back the greatest of armies. Now they were dead, and those that rode them were gone, and soon, everyone that had ever saw the beasts too, would be dead. The thought was visible on his face, and the old maester sat back in his chair, a smile returning to his face as he comforted the young heir.

"There has been another dragon I've seen, very recently in fact".

Pate was surprised; perhaps maester Durran knew of some dragon that survived, that were spirited away after the failure of the Dragonbane King to protect them.

"Where did you see it, how long ago?". Pate stood up and leaned closer to the old man to catch every word.

"This was no ordinary dragon Pate, this was the Young Dragon".

Pate fell back into his seat, the old wood digging into his back as he landed hard. Does he mean King Daeron.

"The King has no dragons" Pate responded, his face contorting, looking confused from the revelation.

"No, no, the King has no dragons, they have not been seen in at least five years. I mean the King is the dragon, perhaps the last one".

The thought confused Pate further. He had often heard from his friend Aegon Connington when he visited Adderhall that the Targaryen's had the blood of the dragon within them, but he had never heard anyone call them dragons.

"I don't understand; how can the King be a dragon?".

"King Daeron is a dragon in the form of man. He has defeated many a man in jousting and tourneys. I've heard him lead a band of ten against one hundred and kill most himself".

"But he failed to take Dorne".

"So did Rhaenys Targaryen when she rode to Sunspear on the back of Meraxes, as did Maegor when he tried to cross the Red Mountains with his family's dragons. Even the Old King himself did not deal with the Martells, who refused every offer he sent. Daeron is the first king to see to Dorne bending the knee".

"But the Dornishmen rebelled. They killed the lord the King had left, and killed his guards in the knight".

The elderly maester nodded his head, before turning to the retinue that remained in the yard, continuing to train alongside Pate's lord-father.

"Do you know why they train so these days; why they fight so ruthlessly?" the maester asked, a grim demeanour falling across his face.

Pate shook his head as Durran stood and leant over the table, whispering to the heir to Adderhall.

"I've heard rumours that the King is leading another great army south into the land of Dorne; ten times as large as any that came before it, with fifty-thousand ready knights and men preparing for the day they march to Sunspear. Your father will be among them, as his father was before him."

Pate looked up towards his tutor, then out to his father, who was busy training the young stable-boys that oft looked after the fort's horses, remembering the day his father had returned from Storm's End, bringing news of his own father's death in Dorne.

"Your father shall fight valiantly when the young King leads his great army south, I have no doubt. The Targaryen's are the blood of the dragons, and the dragons themselves made flesh, and the work that was started by Aegon the Conqueror shall be finished by Daeron. Dorne shall fall, and the seven kingdoms united as one".

Maester Durran's face grew a smile once again as he slowly stood, taking his large leather bound book with him, before turning one last time to the astonished as surprised Pate, who remained motionless in his chair.

"And mayhaps, my young lord, you may live to see the beasts that once flew the sky take wing once again".
____________________________________________________________________________________________

Ok, so this is going to be my second AAR after I (quite quickly) abandoned the first one. I always found the narrative AAR's to be quite brilliant (I'm looking at
And Now My Watch is Ended and How inbred can you get? in particular). I've always had trouble in my attempts to keep writing, made a bit more difficult as I'm not that great of a character writer; still, I've always had a dream of finishing a story that I've begun writing, and I hope that this will be the one. Currently, the date I'm going to end this at is 8400 in game, and I'm wishing I have the patience to get there.

Any responses and/or criticisms are extremely helpful.

 

[Magnetic Hyena]

The Young Dragon​

He was seated high upon the Iron Throne, the great hall reaching out in front of him. As a King, he found no comfort in seating upon the great and dangerous chair, it gave him no pleasure in being seated above the nobles, the trader and diplomats, the knights old and young, he cared not about their petty squabbles, their incessant calls for power and prestige and money, each grovelling before their young king. The Younger Dragon used to dream when he was younger, of an vivid dream of an endless battle, dreaming that he had turned into Aegon the Conqueror, his sisters beside him as they rode into battle atop the three great Targaryen beasts, Balerion the Black Dread roasting the field of enemies whilst his sisters too set the field alight with the dragons of Rhaenys and Visenya. The field was always the field of fire on which King Mern IX died at the hand of the first Aegon, but in the Young Dragons dreams, the enemy was forever changing; sometimes it was the Knights that used to mock him on field, other times it was the bandits and outlaws that he killed as a squire in service to Jon Darklyn. However, those dreams were behind him, and now he slept soundless and bind, his only thoughts turning to Dorne, and the conquest that both had occured, yet still was to come.

The sound of the large door opening awoke the King from his daze, the two whitecloaks; ser Ryman Redwyne and ser Aemon Targaryen, standing vigil at both the left and right hands of the Throne. A small figure presented himself before Daerone at the entrance to the great hall, and as he drew closer, walking silently towards his liege across the long, blood-red carpet, his features became more clear. He had long silver-gold hair reaching down to his shoulders, and deep, lilac eyes. He walked slowly, stumbling over every second step he took, and his face was etched with age and cold calculation. He bent over as far as a man his age could, and said simply;

"Your grace called for my council".

"I called not for your council but for your assistance, uncle".

The King smiled as he stood up off the dangerous throne and walked to embrace his middle-aged uncle, Viserys Targaryen, who returned his favour with a face of solemn and glower. The Young Dragon turned to his Kingsguard, both standing silent as the two men exchanged their greetings.

"Sers, I shall be acquiring the assistance of only my uncle for the time being".

Both knights did as they were bid, walking down from their positions at the side of the Throne, and taking their leave from the two men's absence. Before the great entrance door closed however, Daeron noticed a glance shared between both his uncle and ser Aemon, the King's cousin, and in both cases, their eyes were full of malice and contempt for each other. The King never had cared for the petty grievances of minor lords, but more so he cared not for the petty squabbles between family members. He knew of the lustful thoughts shared between Aemon and his sister Naerys, and he knew of the hatred that the whitecloak felt between he, his father and his brother, but as King, he was forced into the middle of the infighting, the arguments and trifling squabbles, and as King, he had no time for it.

"Uncle, you've served the realm your entire life, and you have provided a great service to the crown and treasury".

Viserys snorted,"I did my part as well as any council master could, I surely take no responsibility for what is truly the work of a king".

"Your to modest uncle". Daeron returned to his throne, seating himself high above his advisor. "I have a number of important matters to deal with over the next few months, so I bid you listen".

"Very well your grace".

"I shall leave King's Landing tomorrow with a levy of twenty-thousand at my side. We shall ride south down the King's Road, and we shall convene at Storm's End with the Lord of the Stormlands. From their, we shall ride into the red mountains, and capture as the small holdings and forts along the base of the range. We shall wait the Dornish out, send the fleets of the Greyjoy and Redwyne to cut off their supplies, and wait them out. After thousands of their own starve, we shall draw them out of their holes by placing supplies in the forts we captured, and draw them out of their holes. When they come in droves to collect the food, we shall attack. A combined force of eighty-thousand men, from all the seven kingdoms, against a force less than half of our own".

Daeron waited for a response from his uncle, who seemed to be deep in thought, pressing his thumb and forefinger to his forehead.

"Your grace, as your uncle, advisor, council master" he took a step up towards the Iron Thorne, "and friend, I shall give you my council and my assistance".

"Then assist your King".

"As I am aware, you tried to make Sunspear bend the knee once before; you succeeded, but at a cost of a million gold dragons, and forty-thousand well armed and well trained men. You must know by now that we have resorted to taking stable-boys and children as young as nine as soldiers and spear men".

"This is your concern; that stable-boys cannot fight?".

"My concern, your grace, is not that stable-boys cannot fight, but that we lack horses and swords, or barely any trained and tempered men. The lowborn are no warrior or knights".

"It matters not what the lowborn are; we have more than twice the number of soldiers and swords that the Dornishmen..."

"Yet we require a second invasion of their land. Your grace, we have lost thousands of men already, and you are preparing to throw more lives away. We failed once before".

The Young Dragon stood up in a fury out of the barbed throne, breathing heavily with flames in his eyes.

"You dare interrupt your King. I admire and respect your council uncle, but do not assume to tell me that I had failed; I led the men into Dorne, I forced the Martells to bend the knee and I took Sunspear with a drop of blood spent on taking the city. It was not the fault of my men, my advisor's or myself that the Dornish threw out my rule. That fault lies with Lord Tyrell and his bannermen, not mine".

Viserys reared back, his hands falling together, his head hanging low.

"I beg your forgiveness, your grace" he said, in an uneasy tone as his hands fell together, his head hanging low.

"Very well". Daeron remained standing, and descended from the throne towards his hunched uncle. "We sent the ravens out to the great lords and we already have the assurances of the Arryns, the Tullys, the Starks the Lannisters, the Tyrells and the Baratheons that the crown has their support".

"And the Greyjoys?"

"We have received not a single word from Pyke".

"The crown did bleed their boats dry on the shores during the last invasion, did it not?".

"Lord Thorne and Lord Darklyn have giving me their assurances that the Greyjoys shall join in the invasion when the time comes. If not, we shall have enough dragons to purchase sellsails from Tyrosh, and the Ironborn shall receive their punishment in just time".

Daeron paused for a moment, allowing time for his uncle to respond before returning to his throne and adjusting his seating, the bards from behind his jutting into the back of his regal armour.

"Uncle, when I ride tomorrow, I shall name a new council that shall rule in my stead, until I return that is. Lord Clement Celtigar shall be named master-at-arms in the stead of Sarmion Baratheon. Lord Celtigar's family has served our house well over the years, and have been steadfastly loyal to both me, my father, and my grandmother. Make sure he receives double pay. Lord Thorne and Lord Darklyn shall stay on the council as the master of whisperers and laws, and have my arrangements for the appointment of Lord Jaremy Chelsted as master of coin".

The choice came as a shock to Viserys, who reared back from the news. The King noticed the shock on his uncles face, as it was one of a few times over the past number of years in which he saw emotion draw over the cold, calculating face that his uncle so often wore.

"Do not worry yourself uncle, I've made arrangements for you to become hand-and-regent in my stead".

"But, your grace, my wife..."

"...is the hand of the king. I am quite aware of the composition of my council, but you have proven yourself over the past few years. You have run the nation well as my regent during my time in Dorne; you've balanced the treasury and the court, as well as your wife has ever done, and I comend her of her service to the realm, but when I leave tomorrow, your shall become my strong right hand, and you shall command the kingdom in my absence."

"Then what shall become of Rhaena?".

"Your wife and son shall be sent to Dragonstone on the Red Water as soon as I leave for Storm's End. I seen fit to name Aegon lord of Dragonstone and protector of House Velaryon and Celtigar".

Viserys fell to his kness.
"
"Thank you, your grace. My son shall thank you greatly for such an honour you bestow upon my blood..."

"Aegon has proven himself greatly in court during my rule, and I found it befitting of a man such as him to take the lordship of my shoulders."

The truth was far from it. Aegon was a drunkard and a fool, and for as long as Daeron knew of him, he always enjoyed the company of multiple women to warm his bed and a glass of wine to warm his belly. He was a disappointment before the king's court, but he was also more malicious and cruel than he would have people beleive. He loved to visit the dungeons of the red keep during the days, where he spent hours wondering the halls and cells, mocking the prisoners with food and drink, before consuming them himself. Some even whispered that he loved to watch as the gaolers tortured those in the lowest level of the dungeons, bribing them with dragons and stags before relishing in their screams. Daeron distrusted him, and after several whispered plots of assassination and death that Lord Thorne believed to be headed by Aegon, he needed to be removed from King's Landing without causing a break in the Targaryen family. For that, he was granted Dragonstone.

"And what is to happen to Baelor?".

Daeron cared little for his brother, the pious fool he was. He spent hours on end locked within his chambers, praying to the seven for strength and purity and peace. The king's brother was of little concern to him, as Baelor's sister-wife was to Baelor. The Young Dragon used to fawn over Daena, spending time with her in the godswood, and alongside the last of the dragons. However, when Baelor was called to marry her instead of Daeron, the heir could not believe his ears; a pious child, second in line, to marry the eldest daughter of the king. Daeron talked little to his father from that point on, instead spending time with his guardian, Jon Darklyn, learning how to fight a war whilst Baelor prayed, never bedding Daena. For all that his brother did, and did not do with his wife, Daeron cursed him.

"Baelor shall remain here, in court. He has proven himself an excellent hand to Lord Darklyn, and I hope by the time I return victorious from Dorne, you will have seen to him bedding his wife". Daeron spat as he spoke the last words, with the same malice of the stare between Aemon and his father.

"Very well, your grace, is that all for this evening".

"Yes, lord-hand, you are given my leave".

Viserys bowed his same shallow bow, and left the kings presence, trying not to stumble over every step he took. The Young Dragon was alone, the great hall empty, the evening quiet.

The fall of Dorne shall begin tommorrow.

So it begins...​

 

[Dr Pearceson]

Seems interesting. i thought this was going to be a Daenerys AAR, but the Young Dragon is an interesting start. I'm see a bit of Tywin Lannister in Viserys, only a little less confident/humble.

And Daeron seems to be similar to Robert Baratheon: Cares little for what it actually means to be King, but loves a good fight.

All in all, this is looking good. Good luck conquering the Dornishmen.