CHAPTER II - THE KING WHO LED
Daemon had planned on removing the remnants of the loyalist forces from the northern Crownlands, but sucha distraction would have meant valuable time lost to the Martell forces approaching from the South. Instead, Daemon chose to wait, hoping to draw the attention of the large host to his position, one he planned on securing in the coming days. Before choosing the location of the next battle, however, Daemon detached a force to follow the remnants that had fled Attadale, hoping to stifle any attempts they might have taken to group with the Prince of Dorne.
The detachment sent east were successful, managing to send the fleeing loyalists into further disarray. It was a small engagement, but the Blackfyre forces suffered significantly less losses. Hundreds of the loyalists were imprisoned, and over two thousand were killed. Those that were neither killed nor captured fled, according to reports, without cohesion. The detached force would march back west, regrouping with Daemon's body, numbering now at nearly thirteen thousand. Reports said that Prince Maron's host was of roughly the same size. Men began to pray Daemon's calculations would prove correct, hoping the advantage of fighting on the defensive would be enough to defeat the Dornishmen.
In time, as they often did, Daemon's calculations proved true. Maron Martell marched north to meet Daemon, seemingly intent on ending the war himself. Daemon's fortified position proved heavily advantageous. Scouting reports had been wrong, though. The Dornish numbered under ten thousand when they arrived, not the thirteen Daemon came to expect. When the battle began, the Dornish proved more prideful than patient, something Daemon now found amusing due to the name he had earned himself thus far in the war. Their attack was disjointed, frenzied even. Seemingly without a tactical consideration in his head, the Prince threw men at Daemon's position until he had none left to throw, save for himself.
Maron Martell, to his credit, was in the thick of the fighting, but with the flanks secure and beginning to now encroach upon the Dornish lines, Daemon pushed hard and fast through the center. He found himself across from the Prince, and saught the prize for himself. Instead, the Prince ran, turning back in retreat. It wasn't long before his men followed. Though there were hundreds of dead to be sure, thousands even, most of the casualties got off with wounds only. By the day's end, Daemon had pushed back the Prince's forces and sent them running, with only a few hundred lost of his own. The Battle of Bramsfort would prove to be a monumental moment in the war, one that would signal the beginning of the end.
Victory at Bramsfort allowed Daemon's host time for recovery. In the following weeks, word had arrived from both the west and the east, from Daemon's brother and Daemon's new ally. Arion Baratheon had won a great victory of his own, throwing back a Tyrell host nearly twice the size of his own. The Baratheons had lost thousands of men, but the Tyrells more. Lord Tyrell retreated down the Roseroad, nearer to Highgarden. Arion would inform Daemon of his intent to hold their position on the road, blocking any further movements from within the Reach. The alliance had already proven fruitful. The rider from King's Landing also bore with him great news. The walls of the city had been breached, and Bittersteel now controlled the entirety of the city, save for the Red Keep itself. The war was drawing to an end. Daemon would see to it personally.
That was the plan, at least. However, news came of a host growing in the west. Though he had been thoroughly defeated, Izembarro of the Stormcrows had gathered what men he could, and slipped between Daemon's position at Bramsfort and the Baratheon host further south. It was reported he had alleviated some of the loyalists in the Westerlands, and now aided them in marching east towards King's Landing. Daemon had no choice. Leaving Bittersteel to see out the ending of the siege, Daemon marched west. A few weeks into his march, word arrived of Bittersteel's success at King's Landing. The Red Keep had fallen, and the throne was now under their control. Effectively, the war was won, but so long as some elected to fight on, Daemon would have to oblige them.
So, Daemon did. Early in the new year, Daemon had marched into the Westerlands and met a host of Lannister men still loyal to Daeron. Daeron, who had not been seen in months. None had heard of the King, and even when Daemon had expected him to be at the head of one of the loyalist armies, he had not been present. It was a lot to ask of a man who found more liking of books than of steel, but Daemon expected it nonetheless. Why would a king not lead his own war? With each passing day, Daemon proved to more and more why he was the rightful King. The opposing force at Cedrictown still required convincing, though. Ten thousand or so, they numbered, equal to Daemon. However, Daemon's army was lead by a King, while the loyalists followed a sellsword who had already been defeated by Daemon in the field. Morale would be low, and Daemon would capitalize on it.
The fighting proved to be closer than the other battles the Blackfyre had participated in, but still, the day ended in victory. For every one of Daemon's men that fell, four fell on the side of the loyalists. The Lannisters gave up their efforts that day, returning home to Casterly Rock, and bowing low to their new king. The Lannisters were followed by the Arryns, who had remained slow to aid King Daeron, and then by the Tullys, who had lost significant numbers trying to quell the armies loyal to the Blackfyre cause within the Riverlands. From there, all that was left was for Daemon to march northeast. One final bastion of loyalist strength remained, and the King would see to it personally. In the fourth moon of the 196th year after Aegon's Conquest, Mosborough fell to Daemon Blackfyre, and the last army in opposition to the Blackfyres was vanquished. Daemon returned to the capital, triumphant.
For months, the seeds of dissent had grown in the capital. The smallfolk were fed tales of how King Daeron had abandoned them, given up on them. He had still not been seen. A reward was posted for the aid in finding him - a knighthood from the King himself, as well as gold. Gold always talked. When Daemon arrived in King's Landing, a ragged man was thrown at his feet, bound in chains. King Daeron the Good, brought ever so low. He was found trying to pass off as a beggar in the streets of the city by one of the Goldcloaks. The man was granted a knighthood as was agreed, and the King was placed in the Black Cells. Daemon, now entirely unopposed, would take his place upon the Iron Throne. The reign of Daemon I had begun.
ulls up chair:: You have my attention.
