The Crowned Dragons - A Game of Thrones Mod
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CHAPTER XIV - THE HARRY OF HARLAW
With a rebellion being waged in the Iron Islands, the first few months of the year saw preparation for the inevitable invasion begin. I began mustering a force in the Crownlands, to convene on the capital where the Royal Fleet was waiting to carry them over to the Iron Islands. In the Riverlands, I ordered a separate force to be gathered by the vassals of House Tully. This force was to march east while I led my own force to the Iron Islands, and would lay in wait should the Ironborn attempt to raid the coast or take the capital. Extra provisions of food and cloth were supplied by House Tyrell, while barrels upon barrels of Arbor Red and Dornish wines were carted up to King's Landing. As much as I would have preferred the wine to stay far away from the men, I understood that it was a necessity in times of war as a supplement to the men's morale.
While the men, weapons and provisions all on their way to King's Landing, the rest of the realm continued on as if nothing was happening, oblivious to the impending war. After twenty years in service to my father, it seemed as though the stress and advanced age had finally caught up with Lord Jon in Storm's End. Jon Connington had raised my father as his own son since he was a boy, and served as his loyal Hand from the day they landed in the Stormlands. I had allowed him to return to Storm's End to see out his remaining days in peace, and it would happen that those days were few. Yet as is so often the case, the words, 'only death can pay for life' were once again proven true. With the passing of Lord Jon, Rhaenys gave birth to a boy, whom we named Aemond. The name was a traditional one of Old Valyria, but I had hopes it would serve my son and heir better than it had my forefather. The last Aemond Targaryen had lost his eye as a young boy, and was forever cursed as a kinslayer for killing Rhaenys Targaryen during the Dance.
With preparations concluded, the game turned from planning to waiting. The Greyjoys were outnumbered, but were putting up a staunch fight against House Harlaw and their allies. Finally however, after months of conflict, Lady Frenya's forces were defeated and the Greyjoys were imprisoned. I sent word to Lord Edmure on Pyke to in turn send word to Harras Harlaw that the Iron Throne was declaring war, should the Ironborn not submit to Targaryen rule. Knowing full well they would decline, I ordered Lord Edmure to leave immediately and return to the Riverlands, while myself and my men boarded the Royal Fleet and made sail for the Iron Islands. With no passage through Westeros to the western shores of the Riverlands, the only path to the Iron Islands was south around Dorne and the Reach. After weeks of travel, the islands were in sight, and the men were readied for war.
Expecting fierce resistance, though short in numbers, I was truly shocked by what I bore witness to on the Iron Islands. The Greyjoy rebellion had done serious damage, namely to the size of the Ironborn armies. Little more than five thousand men stood between us and the gates of the Grey King's Hall- the seat Harras Harlaw had chosen as his own. Many of the Ironborn scattered, some stood their ground and fought, despite the overwhelming odds, while most fled to Nagga's Hill to defend the Iron King's seat. It wasn't long before my entire force was stationed outside the walls of the Grey King's Hall, waiting for the Ironborn's inevitable surrender. I had presumed it would be no more than a few weeks before Harras Harlaw himself came out to bend the knee, but for months we sat outside the walls, starving out it's defenders, yet still, none budged.
After five months of siege, I began to grow weary and contemplated a full-scale assault on the walls. I probably could have made the same decision five months ago, given our significant numerical advantage, but why throw away the lives of my men needlessly if I could avoid it? Only days before I was finally going to give the word to scale the walls, word arrived from the capital, directly from Lord Commander Balon Swann. While most of my Kingsguard accompanied me to the Iron Islands, I left the Lord Commander in the Crownlands to lead the Riverlander force I had ordered mustered. As it happens, the Iron Islands were not as weak as presumed. Fifteen thousand Ironborn, led by Harras Harlaw himself, had landed in the Crownlands, burning and slaughtering anything in their path. Lord Commander Balon engaged them near the Kingswood, significantly reducing their force, sending them running into the dead end that was Massey's Hook.
Weeks later, Lord Commander Balon crushed the remaining Ironborn force at Sharp Point, and Harras Harlaw personally surrendered himself to Ser Balon, and was now in the capital awaiting my return. Upon my return, Harraw Harlaw was brought before me and as expected, he bent the knee. For the first time in over a decade, the entire realm was one once more. I allowed House Harlaw to remain as Lords Paramount over the Iron Islands, only in light of the fact that House Greyjoy was significantly weakened in the rebellion. I did however legitimize a Greyjoy bastard, Ambrode, who was crucial to Lord Edmure's efforts to ignite their rebellion in the first place. I allowed Lord Harras to return to the Iron Islands shortly after his surrender, but as it happens, he never returned. Though the ships docked in the islands safely, the crew claimed Lord Harras died of his advanced age on the journey, though the honesty of the Ironborn was never something to be certain of. Lord Harras was succeeded by his son Harras. A young man of apparent promise, I could only hope he would be the first of the Ironborn to prove trouble-free to my family.
With a rebellion being waged in the Iron Islands, the first few months of the year saw preparation for the inevitable invasion begin. I began mustering a force in the Crownlands, to convene on the capital where the Royal Fleet was waiting to carry them over to the Iron Islands. In the Riverlands, I ordered a separate force to be gathered by the vassals of House Tully. This force was to march east while I led my own force to the Iron Islands, and would lay in wait should the Ironborn attempt to raid the coast or take the capital. Extra provisions of food and cloth were supplied by House Tyrell, while barrels upon barrels of Arbor Red and Dornish wines were carted up to King's Landing. As much as I would have preferred the wine to stay far away from the men, I understood that it was a necessity in times of war as a supplement to the men's morale.
While the men, weapons and provisions all on their way to King's Landing, the rest of the realm continued on as if nothing was happening, oblivious to the impending war. After twenty years in service to my father, it seemed as though the stress and advanced age had finally caught up with Lord Jon in Storm's End. Jon Connington had raised my father as his own son since he was a boy, and served as his loyal Hand from the day they landed in the Stormlands. I had allowed him to return to Storm's End to see out his remaining days in peace, and it would happen that those days were few. Yet as is so often the case, the words, 'only death can pay for life' were once again proven true. With the passing of Lord Jon, Rhaenys gave birth to a boy, whom we named Aemond. The name was a traditional one of Old Valyria, but I had hopes it would serve my son and heir better than it had my forefather. The last Aemond Targaryen had lost his eye as a young boy, and was forever cursed as a kinslayer for killing Rhaenys Targaryen during the Dance.
With preparations concluded, the game turned from planning to waiting. The Greyjoys were outnumbered, but were putting up a staunch fight against House Harlaw and their allies. Finally however, after months of conflict, Lady Frenya's forces were defeated and the Greyjoys were imprisoned. I sent word to Lord Edmure on Pyke to in turn send word to Harras Harlaw that the Iron Throne was declaring war, should the Ironborn not submit to Targaryen rule. Knowing full well they would decline, I ordered Lord Edmure to leave immediately and return to the Riverlands, while myself and my men boarded the Royal Fleet and made sail for the Iron Islands. With no passage through Westeros to the western shores of the Riverlands, the only path to the Iron Islands was south around Dorne and the Reach. After weeks of travel, the islands were in sight, and the men were readied for war.
Expecting fierce resistance, though short in numbers, I was truly shocked by what I bore witness to on the Iron Islands. The Greyjoy rebellion had done serious damage, namely to the size of the Ironborn armies. Little more than five thousand men stood between us and the gates of the Grey King's Hall- the seat Harras Harlaw had chosen as his own. Many of the Ironborn scattered, some stood their ground and fought, despite the overwhelming odds, while most fled to Nagga's Hill to defend the Iron King's seat. It wasn't long before my entire force was stationed outside the walls of the Grey King's Hall, waiting for the Ironborn's inevitable surrender. I had presumed it would be no more than a few weeks before Harras Harlaw himself came out to bend the knee, but for months we sat outside the walls, starving out it's defenders, yet still, none budged.
After five months of siege, I began to grow weary and contemplated a full-scale assault on the walls. I probably could have made the same decision five months ago, given our significant numerical advantage, but why throw away the lives of my men needlessly if I could avoid it? Only days before I was finally going to give the word to scale the walls, word arrived from the capital, directly from Lord Commander Balon Swann. While most of my Kingsguard accompanied me to the Iron Islands, I left the Lord Commander in the Crownlands to lead the Riverlander force I had ordered mustered. As it happens, the Iron Islands were not as weak as presumed. Fifteen thousand Ironborn, led by Harras Harlaw himself, had landed in the Crownlands, burning and slaughtering anything in their path. Lord Commander Balon engaged them near the Kingswood, significantly reducing their force, sending them running into the dead end that was Massey's Hook.
Weeks later, Lord Commander Balon crushed the remaining Ironborn force at Sharp Point, and Harras Harlaw personally surrendered himself to Ser Balon, and was now in the capital awaiting my return. Upon my return, Harraw Harlaw was brought before me and as expected, he bent the knee. For the first time in over a decade, the entire realm was one once more. I allowed House Harlaw to remain as Lords Paramount over the Iron Islands, only in light of the fact that House Greyjoy was significantly weakened in the rebellion. I did however legitimize a Greyjoy bastard, Ambrode, who was crucial to Lord Edmure's efforts to ignite their rebellion in the first place. I allowed Lord Harras to return to the Iron Islands shortly after his surrender, but as it happens, he never returned. Though the ships docked in the islands safely, the crew claimed Lord Harras died of his advanced age on the journey, though the honesty of the Ironborn was never something to be certain of. Lord Harras was succeeded by his son Harras. A young man of apparent promise, I could only hope he would be the first of the Ironborn to prove trouble-free to my family.
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Just read this in one sitting, I really liked the Aemond Snow bit. And a question concerning the war for Iron Islands independence. Did you just white peace them after Aegon axed Crow's eye in the face?
No, that war actually confused me a bit, and that's why I wrote about the Iron Islands kinda spiraling into chaos, with Dagmer Cleftjaw then the Harlaws seizing power. When I killed Euron, the war just ended. I got no message or anything, the small war tab by the mini-map just vanished as if nothing ever happened, yet they remained independent. Perhaps it is a game/mod mechanic I'm not aware of, but it seemed really odd to me.
Huh. I think I had that happen to me in a vanilla game as the Magyars. Was occupying the whole of Bulgaria when the war suddenly ended.
CHAPTER XV - THE VAIN
With the reintroduction of the Iron Islands into the realm, and the birth of another son whom I named Maelor, I ordered the commissioning of a Tourney to mark the occasion. It was to be the first major tourney of my reign, and as such, I convinced my subjects to make it as grand a spectacle as possible. My wife began procuring the coin to cover the expenses, while myself and my uncle, Lord Willas, began organizing the matter ourselves. With my uncle being the Lord of the Reach, the supply of wine was granted to the Arbor exclusively. Silks came in from Dorne, dozens of heads of cattle and pigs came in from various regions of the Seven Kingdoms, and the hunters operating in the Kingswood ensured there would be plenty of venison for the occasion. With supplies flowing in from the Kingdoms, all that was left was the people. Lords and Ladies, both big and small, came from every corner of Westeros. From Dorne to the Wall, the nobility all convened in the capital. Even men from the Free Cities showed up to see the splendors of my reign.
The event itself went almost exactly as I expected. With 20,000 dragons going to the winner of the joust, 15,000 to the winner of the melee and 8,000 to the winner of the archery, competitors from far and wide were present, grasping at a chance of winning fame, glory and of course, gold. The archery was held first, with a man of little note claiming the winner's purse. The melee took place on the second day of the festivities, with thirty men partaking in a grueling fight lasting nearly two hours. At the end, Ser Aemon of the Kingsguard stood above the rest in victory. I was hardly surprised- Ser Aemon was a giant of a man and still a young man. He could probably have placed high in the melee on his strength and size alone, but add a formidable warrior to his list of traits, and it was clear it would be a difficult task to best such a man. Over the next five days, thirty two knights and nobles jousted each other until, yet again, Ser Aemon stoof victorious. At the conclusion of the week, and the tourney, Ser Aemon had secured himself 35,000 gold dragons, and the attention of the Kingdoms. It was hardly a bad outcome- anyone who would ever think of opposing me now knew they would have to pass through Ser Aemon, and six others first.
The tourney was a grand event, bringing together the lords of the realm in a time of peace, and giving the small folk some much-needed entertainment. However, there were some who did not appreciate the tourney, nor it's grandeur. Though many of the small folk appreciated the tourney for what it was, there were others who felt the whole thing was a needless burden on the realm's finances. There were those who said it was merely a means to an end, one that petted my own ego. Before long, murmurings from around the capital began reaching the halls and chambers of the Red Keep. 'King Rhaegar the Vain' they were calling me. Vain? The tourney was in many ways a necessity. The common people seem to forget that without something to take their mind off of other happenings in their lives, there would be far greater uproar than they could possibly imagine. A tourney is a distraction, a means to an end, not for my ego, but for the betterment of the realm. King Rhaegar the Vain. So be it. They can think of me as vain, but I know it for what it is, and what I know is the truth.
Many months later, towards the end of the year, a third son was born to me and my wife Rhaenys. Maelys we named him, and like his brothers before him, he looked every bit a Targaryen. It pleased me greatly to have three strong and healthy sons, but my mind began to wander towards thoughts of their futures. If myself and my wife failed to have any daughters, there would be no female Targaryens to wed my sons to. Though my own mother was not a Targaryen, I knew the necessity of ensuring the strength of our blood, and an exclusively Targaryen match would always be preferable over any others. I was still young though, and I had many more years left in me- years in which I could produce daughters. I was not worried, but the thought loomed nonetheless.
Elsewhere, in the early days of the year, word arrived in my court from Storm's End- from Lord Lester more specifically. Lord Lester was the son of Lord Jon Connington, the most loyal of my father's ally and a crucial part of my father's efforts to regain the throne. He had served for many years as Hand of the King, and was named Lord Paramount of the Stormlands after the removal of House Baratheon from power. Upon Lord Jon's death, Lord Lester took his father's place, at a still-young age of eighteen. Not an overly impressive man, it was his marriage that made him stand out above all else about him. Upon his father's death, Lester Connington married Morra Martell, the legitimized daughter of Arianne Martell, and the sister of Princess Obara Vaith. Though the rest of her siblings carried the name Vaith, Morra was legitimized as a Martell, and as such, cared more for her house than that of her siblings.
Lord Lester's letter exclaimed his intention to march against Princess Obara and House Vaith, in an attempt to retake Dorne and Sunspear for House Martell. Though it would have made sense for the claim to have been made in the name of Lady Morra, perhaps Lord Lester was wise enough to see that him and his wife controlling the entire south-east of Westeros would pose too great a threat for me to ignore. No, instead of Lady Morra, the claim was made in the name of her uncle, Trystane. Trystane was the third child of Doran Martell, my great uncle and staunch ally of my father. Princess Arianne had died years ago, and Prince Quentyn had left for Essos to find my great Aunt and was never heard from again. This left Trystane as the last remaining heir of Doran Martell, which therefore gave him the strongest claim to Dorne. Lord Lester made his intentions very clear, and before long, war was declared between Dorne and the Stormlands. I could only hope that the war would end swiftly with little bloodshed, but even then a small part of me still ached for Lord Lester's victory. After all, it would far better suit me to see House Martell returned to their former seat.
With the reintroduction of the Iron Islands into the realm, and the birth of another son whom I named Maelor, I ordered the commissioning of a Tourney to mark the occasion. It was to be the first major tourney of my reign, and as such, I convinced my subjects to make it as grand a spectacle as possible. My wife began procuring the coin to cover the expenses, while myself and my uncle, Lord Willas, began organizing the matter ourselves. With my uncle being the Lord of the Reach, the supply of wine was granted to the Arbor exclusively. Silks came in from Dorne, dozens of heads of cattle and pigs came in from various regions of the Seven Kingdoms, and the hunters operating in the Kingswood ensured there would be plenty of venison for the occasion. With supplies flowing in from the Kingdoms, all that was left was the people. Lords and Ladies, both big and small, came from every corner of Westeros. From Dorne to the Wall, the nobility all convened in the capital. Even men from the Free Cities showed up to see the splendors of my reign.
The event itself went almost exactly as I expected. With 20,000 dragons going to the winner of the joust, 15,000 to the winner of the melee and 8,000 to the winner of the archery, competitors from far and wide were present, grasping at a chance of winning fame, glory and of course, gold. The archery was held first, with a man of little note claiming the winner's purse. The melee took place on the second day of the festivities, with thirty men partaking in a grueling fight lasting nearly two hours. At the end, Ser Aemon of the Kingsguard stood above the rest in victory. I was hardly surprised- Ser Aemon was a giant of a man and still a young man. He could probably have placed high in the melee on his strength and size alone, but add a formidable warrior to his list of traits, and it was clear it would be a difficult task to best such a man. Over the next five days, thirty two knights and nobles jousted each other until, yet again, Ser Aemon stoof victorious. At the conclusion of the week, and the tourney, Ser Aemon had secured himself 35,000 gold dragons, and the attention of the Kingdoms. It was hardly a bad outcome- anyone who would ever think of opposing me now knew they would have to pass through Ser Aemon, and six others first.
The tourney was a grand event, bringing together the lords of the realm in a time of peace, and giving the small folk some much-needed entertainment. However, there were some who did not appreciate the tourney, nor it's grandeur. Though many of the small folk appreciated the tourney for what it was, there were others who felt the whole thing was a needless burden on the realm's finances. There were those who said it was merely a means to an end, one that petted my own ego. Before long, murmurings from around the capital began reaching the halls and chambers of the Red Keep. 'King Rhaegar the Vain' they were calling me. Vain? The tourney was in many ways a necessity. The common people seem to forget that without something to take their mind off of other happenings in their lives, there would be far greater uproar than they could possibly imagine. A tourney is a distraction, a means to an end, not for my ego, but for the betterment of the realm. King Rhaegar the Vain. So be it. They can think of me as vain, but I know it for what it is, and what I know is the truth.
Many months later, towards the end of the year, a third son was born to me and my wife Rhaenys. Maelys we named him, and like his brothers before him, he looked every bit a Targaryen. It pleased me greatly to have three strong and healthy sons, but my mind began to wander towards thoughts of their futures. If myself and my wife failed to have any daughters, there would be no female Targaryens to wed my sons to. Though my own mother was not a Targaryen, I knew the necessity of ensuring the strength of our blood, and an exclusively Targaryen match would always be preferable over any others. I was still young though, and I had many more years left in me- years in which I could produce daughters. I was not worried, but the thought loomed nonetheless.
Elsewhere, in the early days of the year, word arrived in my court from Storm's End- from Lord Lester more specifically. Lord Lester was the son of Lord Jon Connington, the most loyal of my father's ally and a crucial part of my father's efforts to regain the throne. He had served for many years as Hand of the King, and was named Lord Paramount of the Stormlands after the removal of House Baratheon from power. Upon Lord Jon's death, Lord Lester took his father's place, at a still-young age of eighteen. Not an overly impressive man, it was his marriage that made him stand out above all else about him. Upon his father's death, Lester Connington married Morra Martell, the legitimized daughter of Arianne Martell, and the sister of Princess Obara Vaith. Though the rest of her siblings carried the name Vaith, Morra was legitimized as a Martell, and as such, cared more for her house than that of her siblings.
Lord Lester's letter exclaimed his intention to march against Princess Obara and House Vaith, in an attempt to retake Dorne and Sunspear for House Martell. Though it would have made sense for the claim to have been made in the name of Lady Morra, perhaps Lord Lester was wise enough to see that him and his wife controlling the entire south-east of Westeros would pose too great a threat for me to ignore. No, instead of Lady Morra, the claim was made in the name of her uncle, Trystane. Trystane was the third child of Doran Martell, my great uncle and staunch ally of my father. Princess Arianne had died years ago, and Prince Quentyn had left for Essos to find my great Aunt and was never heard from again. This left Trystane as the last remaining heir of Doran Martell, which therefore gave him the strongest claim to Dorne. Lord Lester made his intentions very clear, and before long, war was declared between Dorne and the Stormlands. I could only hope that the war would end swiftly with little bloodshed, but even then a small part of me still ached for Lord Lester's victory. After all, it would far better suit me to see House Martell returned to their former seat.
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House Martell restored sounds like a good idea. They've ruled Dorne so long they're part of what makes it stable, right?
Stay out of anything going on in Dorne. It's the Afghanistan of Westeros.
And how is your great-aunt these days? And more importantly, how are her children? I mean the scaly, incendiary, airborn ones, though if she has any daughters that could help your incest ambitions.
And how is your great-aunt these days? And more importantly, how are her children? I mean the scaly, incendiary, airborn ones, though if she has any daughters that could help your incest ambitions.
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does the Martell one have his own children? or will Lord Lester's wife inheriting him when he passes away?
Also, its unfair to call Rheagar 'the Vain.' That is not the haircut of a vain man.
House Martell restored sounds like a good idea. They've ruled Dorne so long they're part of what makes it stable, right?
I think Dorne is stable so long as the women and the wine continues to flow. The ruler doesn't matter to the common folk so much as it matters to me.
I don't plan on getting involved in Dorne any time soon. I agree with your sentiment. As for Dany and her children, only one of her four children have survived their first few years. Her only son is now eight, and funnily enough that eight year old now rides Rhaegal. I'm sure an infant on a dragon would be quite the sight.
Trystane Martell does have children, a boy and a girl I believe. The Martell line should survive should Trystane come into power.
Though their Valyrian roots would be beneficial, they're not quite as prestigious as they used to be. I'd be more in favor of wedding my children to Andals should they prove to be a suitable match.
Funnily enough, I've decided to use this 'Vain' angle to help me change my character's look.
CHAPTER XVI - AN EMBOLDENED LION
With forces in the Stormlands and Dorne mustering for war, a different threat began mustering in the West, one that had been all too familiar for my father. On one particularly uneventful evening, word reached the capital from the Westerlands- from one Kenric Lannister in particular. Reading the words he had written, I realized he was just as much a fool as all his predecessors. The Lannister lord was writing to me to deliver an ultimatum, one that he had similarly delivered to my brother Maelor. This ultimatum declared that through, "thorough investigation", Lord Kenric had discovered that Maelor was in fact not the son of our father, Aegon, but was born to another entirely. As such, Lord Kenric declared, Maelor was not officially a highborn, nor a Targaryen, and his lordship over the Westerlands was void because of this fact. "I anxiously await your reply", he wrote. He would have my reply in due time, but not the one he was expecting.
Within a month, Lord Kenric was in the capital, locked away in a damp and dark cell where he belonged. What a fool he was. Did he honestly think I would remove my own brother from his seat? No, Lord Kenric had made a grievous error, and would pay for it with his life. Defamation of a member of the royal family was a treasonous act, and treason was punishable by death. A week after his arrival in King's Landing, Lord Kenric was brought to the Great Sept of Baelor, where the King's Justice took his head. How many times must the Lannisters make these god-awful decisions?, I thought. They must all have a death wish. I thought perhaps this would be the last of the Lannisters to cause my family grief, but I should have known better than to have such hopeful thoughts. No, the death of Lord Kenric did not end the Lannister threat, it only proved to aggravate them even more. With the death of one lion, another came to prominence, and this one was far more dangerous- an emboldened lion of sorts.
Over the coming months, life continued on in the capital, with the thought of the Lannisters lingering but not dominating my mind. Over the last year, being called 'King Rhaegar the Vain' had gotten to me, as much as I tried not to show it. In an attempt to counter this ridiculous name, I began growing out my hair and beard, in an attempt to appear more unkempt before the masses. I would have thought the people would want a well groomed king, but apparently I was wrong. During this time, my wife gave birth to a fourth son, whom we named Aerion. It was becoming clearer every day that I would have to find wives for my sons elsewhere in the kingdoms.
Nearly a year after I had Kenric Lannister executed for his treason, word arrived of in the capital of this emboldened lion I spoke of previously. Podrick was his name, and though he was not directly related to Kenric, he was a Lannister all the same. Where Kenric had attempted to take the Westerlands with little forethought and backing, Podrick was not as foolish as his kinsman. He was a smart man, equally skilled with coin, quill and lance. There were many who were calling him the 'Heir of Tywin', but that was a mantle I myself could not believe. Tywin Lannister was a man who had the realm held in his grasp for twenty years- all feared him and few disobeyed him- this Podrick might be skilled, but I could not believe he was anything that could even resemble Tywin.
Podrick had the sense about him to rally allies around him, and after a year, most of the Westerlands viewed him as the rightful ruler of Casterly Rock. Once more, unlike his kin Kenric, Podrick did not deliver an ultimatum, but chose the much more obvious route- war. Podrick Lannister called his allies- who were many- and marched on my brother at Casterly Rock. There were still those who remained loyal to me and my brother, but the Lannisters commanded what was possibly an even greater host than our own. It was up to my brother to now consolidate his rule on the battlefield. As much as I wanted to join him, I knew that I could not. As King, it was not my place to fight in the quarrels of my vassals. My brother was alone. He would have to win this war on the battlefield, or we would be forced to take more.... extreme, actions.
With forces in the Stormlands and Dorne mustering for war, a different threat began mustering in the West, one that had been all too familiar for my father. On one particularly uneventful evening, word reached the capital from the Westerlands- from one Kenric Lannister in particular. Reading the words he had written, I realized he was just as much a fool as all his predecessors. The Lannister lord was writing to me to deliver an ultimatum, one that he had similarly delivered to my brother Maelor. This ultimatum declared that through, "thorough investigation", Lord Kenric had discovered that Maelor was in fact not the son of our father, Aegon, but was born to another entirely. As such, Lord Kenric declared, Maelor was not officially a highborn, nor a Targaryen, and his lordship over the Westerlands was void because of this fact. "I anxiously await your reply", he wrote. He would have my reply in due time, but not the one he was expecting.
Within a month, Lord Kenric was in the capital, locked away in a damp and dark cell where he belonged. What a fool he was. Did he honestly think I would remove my own brother from his seat? No, Lord Kenric had made a grievous error, and would pay for it with his life. Defamation of a member of the royal family was a treasonous act, and treason was punishable by death. A week after his arrival in King's Landing, Lord Kenric was brought to the Great Sept of Baelor, where the King's Justice took his head. How many times must the Lannisters make these god-awful decisions?, I thought. They must all have a death wish. I thought perhaps this would be the last of the Lannisters to cause my family grief, but I should have known better than to have such hopeful thoughts. No, the death of Lord Kenric did not end the Lannister threat, it only proved to aggravate them even more. With the death of one lion, another came to prominence, and this one was far more dangerous- an emboldened lion of sorts.
Over the coming months, life continued on in the capital, with the thought of the Lannisters lingering but not dominating my mind. Over the last year, being called 'King Rhaegar the Vain' had gotten to me, as much as I tried not to show it. In an attempt to counter this ridiculous name, I began growing out my hair and beard, in an attempt to appear more unkempt before the masses. I would have thought the people would want a well groomed king, but apparently I was wrong. During this time, my wife gave birth to a fourth son, whom we named Aerion. It was becoming clearer every day that I would have to find wives for my sons elsewhere in the kingdoms.
Nearly a year after I had Kenric Lannister executed for his treason, word arrived of in the capital of this emboldened lion I spoke of previously. Podrick was his name, and though he was not directly related to Kenric, he was a Lannister all the same. Where Kenric had attempted to take the Westerlands with little forethought and backing, Podrick was not as foolish as his kinsman. He was a smart man, equally skilled with coin, quill and lance. There were many who were calling him the 'Heir of Tywin', but that was a mantle I myself could not believe. Tywin Lannister was a man who had the realm held in his grasp for twenty years- all feared him and few disobeyed him- this Podrick might be skilled, but I could not believe he was anything that could even resemble Tywin.
Podrick had the sense about him to rally allies around him, and after a year, most of the Westerlands viewed him as the rightful ruler of Casterly Rock. Once more, unlike his kin Kenric, Podrick did not deliver an ultimatum, but chose the much more obvious route- war. Podrick Lannister called his allies- who were many- and marched on my brother at Casterly Rock. There were still those who remained loyal to me and my brother, but the Lannisters commanded what was possibly an even greater host than our own. It was up to my brother to now consolidate his rule on the battlefield. As much as I wanted to join him, I knew that I could not. As King, it was not my place to fight in the quarrels of my vassals. My brother was alone. He would have to win this war on the battlefield, or we would be forced to take more.... extreme, actions.
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I've always hated that you can't intervene, even to support close kin. Iirc, the GoT mod gives you the option to demand one side back down and label them a traitor (and thus allow you to imprison them) if they refuse.
Time to give the Lannisters the full Rains of Castamere treatment. They can't help themselves, they'll always wake the dragon.
Time to give the Lannisters the full Rains of Castamere treatment. They can't help themselves, they'll always wake the dragon.
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there should be a way so you can be the judge in those disputes... to avoid war within the Realm is one the most important tasks of a king
you can if you have medium crown authority. Go to the agressors diplomacy menu and there should be a "command to end war" option
That option to demand them to stand down is there, but I don't want to abuse it. Though I don't want my brother to lose power, I also want to let things play out as naturally as possible. Plus, in terms of a story, I want to make it seem like the rest of the lords in Westeros will view me constantly bailing out my brother as him receiving preferential treatment due to his name. Time will tell how I use the function though.
As for the Lannisters getting the 'Rains' treatment... No comment.
CHAPTER XVII - TWO SIDES OF A COIN
A few months had passed since Podrick Lannister declared war on my brother, and his rebellion was proving to be a success. Though no major battles had taken place, the forces loyal to my brother had engaged those loyal to the Lannisters in a number of small skirmishes, and every single one of them ended in our defeat. The Lannisters had more men, more gold and more supplies at their disposal, and those three factors would prove to be the undoing of my brother's rule if given enough time. As king, it was not my place to intervene, but I was beginning to lose faith that we might prevail, and I resorted to finding other ways of ending the conflict.
I pondered my options for a few weeks, taking the council of my most trusted advisers when I could. Nearing three months after the revolt began, I had come to a decision- Podrick Lannister had to die. The man exuded confidence and charisma, and as more time passed, more men would flock to him. This emboldened lion could not be allowed to let his pride grow any further. I began arranging to have Podrick removed, by dubious means. There were various options at our disposal, but the most appropriate came in the form of a skilled marksman and knight named Ser Dallen. Ser Dallen had won various archery competitions at tourneys across the Seven Kingdoms. Though there were few marksmen of note in the world, Ser Dallen's name was one of them. Though of low birth, Ser Dallen's grandfather had served in the kitchens of King Aerys II, before travelling to Essos and joining the Golden Company. From there, he had his own son, who served with the Company also, before landing in Westeros with my father, where Dallen was born and has served in the capital ever since.
With the Lannisters in open rebellion, their forces would be constantly on the move, and the best chance Ser Dallen had to succeed in our plot was to ambush Podrick Lannister on the road during his travels. Where a troop of marksmen would be easy to track, a lone bowman would be all but invisible. Ser Dallen left for the Westerlands, and was ordered to report to my brother Maelor upon his success. Within weeks, Maelor sent word to the capital of an untimely accident befalling Podrick Lannister. During a routine march, a single shaft pierced the edge of the woods near Sarsfield and caught the Lannister lord in his heart, killing him on the spot. With Podrick Lannister's death, the rebels lost their figurehead whom they had rallied around, and soon scattered and surrendered to my brother's rule once again. The Westerlands returned to peace and my brother to safety at Casterly Rock. It had been said many times before by my father, but hopefully that was the last of the Lannisters to trouble my family.
The months following Podrick Lannister's death saw the birth of my fifth child, the death of two of my Kingsguard and the ending of another conflict elsewhere int the Seven Kingdoms. The deaths of Ser Medgar and Lord Commander Balon Swann shocked many in the capital, including myself, particularly because their deaths occurred on the same afternoon. Though both were advanced in age, dying on the same day made many think their deaths were not of natural reasons. Even I held my suspicions, but the Maesters assured me that no foul play was involved in either of their deaths, but it was merely a coincidence that they should pass from the world within hours of each other. With their deaths, two new Kingsguard had to be selected, and a new Lord Commander was needed too. After some deliberation, I named Ser Loras Tyrell as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and tasked him with helping me choose potential candidates to replace Ser Balon and Ser Medgar. A short while later, Ser Gerold of Peckleton and Ser Daven Clifton arrived in the capital and swore their oaths as the two newest members of my Kingsuard.
My marriage to my sister had proven to be a fruitful one, one clearly blessed by the Seven. After four sons, Rhaenys gave birth to a daughter, whom we named Rhaenys- after her mother. Though the age gap between her and Aemond was nearly seven years, it was probable that Rhaenys would eventually marry her eldest brother. However, that would still leave me with three other sons lacking in wives. Should the gods not bless me with more daughters, or should they continue to bless me with sons, it would force me to look outside of the bloodline to find matches for them. Though marriages to Tyrells, Martells or Conningtons were not to be laughed at, it was always preferable among Targaryens to keep out blood pure through marrying our siblings. With each passing year, it was looking more and more likely that this would not be achievable, but at least my eldest son and heir now had a sister whom he could one day call his wife.
News also reached the capital from Dorne, sent directly from Trystane Martell himself. The only surviving child of Doran Martell, it had been nearly two years since Lester Connington declared war on Obara Vaith, in an attempt to put Trystane on his rightful seat at Sunspear. Most of the fighting had occurred in Dorne, though the Vaiths had sent a small detachment to Dragonstone in an attempt to draw the attention of Lord Lester's forces. However, Princess Obara's little move failed to achieve anything, and after continuous and relentless pressure from the Stormlands, she was eventually forced to surrender. House Vaith was removed from Sunspear, and Trystane Martell took his place as Prince of Dorne. After many long years, House Martell was finally restored, and the crown had regained one of it's strongest allies in the process. While things were looking worse for wear in the Westerlands, at least the Martell's success in Dorne could be viewed as a high point, and something to celebrate.
However, at the end of every high point comes a low point, and it wasn't long before such a low came about. I had hoped that Podrick Lannister would be the last of our troubles in the West, but word once more reached me of a Lannister uprising. This time, some lowly Lannister- but still a Lannister- was pressing his claim against Maelor. This Duren was not like Podrick Lannister or Tywin, he was more simple, but he shared their name and as such, he felt his cause was just. Fewer lords had rallied behind him, a factor that greatly benefited my brother, but it did not matter. My brother raised a large force and met Duren Lannister head on in battle, defeating him and imprisoning him before the rebellion could even begin. It was almost certain that Duren would forfeit his life for his actions, but what followed was something no man in the Seven Kingdoms could have foreseen.
They say that when a Targaryen is born, the Gods toss a coin and the world waits to see how it will land. This refers to the rather unfortunate aspect of our bloodline, in which a number of my kin have succumbed to madness. My great-grandfather was the last Targaryen to show such traits, that is, before now. Perhaps succumbing to our own bloodline or perhaps to the constant aggression from the Lannisters, my brother Maelor fell into lunacy. Duren Lannister was imprisoned, his direct family was imprisoned, and every single Lannister in the Westerlands was seized as well. They were all brought to Casterly Rock, where Maelor had them all tossed from the peak into the waters below. With one fell swoop, my brother extinguished one of the greatest houses there ever was, barring the Kingslayer and his cousin Martyn at Castle Black. House Lannister was no more, and on that day, my brother ensured that no lord would ever show favor to him again, even his own vassals. Even as king, there was now nothing I could do to help him. He was lost.
A few months had passed since Podrick Lannister declared war on my brother, and his rebellion was proving to be a success. Though no major battles had taken place, the forces loyal to my brother had engaged those loyal to the Lannisters in a number of small skirmishes, and every single one of them ended in our defeat. The Lannisters had more men, more gold and more supplies at their disposal, and those three factors would prove to be the undoing of my brother's rule if given enough time. As king, it was not my place to intervene, but I was beginning to lose faith that we might prevail, and I resorted to finding other ways of ending the conflict.
I pondered my options for a few weeks, taking the council of my most trusted advisers when I could. Nearing three months after the revolt began, I had come to a decision- Podrick Lannister had to die. The man exuded confidence and charisma, and as more time passed, more men would flock to him. This emboldened lion could not be allowed to let his pride grow any further. I began arranging to have Podrick removed, by dubious means. There were various options at our disposal, but the most appropriate came in the form of a skilled marksman and knight named Ser Dallen. Ser Dallen had won various archery competitions at tourneys across the Seven Kingdoms. Though there were few marksmen of note in the world, Ser Dallen's name was one of them. Though of low birth, Ser Dallen's grandfather had served in the kitchens of King Aerys II, before travelling to Essos and joining the Golden Company. From there, he had his own son, who served with the Company also, before landing in Westeros with my father, where Dallen was born and has served in the capital ever since.
With the Lannisters in open rebellion, their forces would be constantly on the move, and the best chance Ser Dallen had to succeed in our plot was to ambush Podrick Lannister on the road during his travels. Where a troop of marksmen would be easy to track, a lone bowman would be all but invisible. Ser Dallen left for the Westerlands, and was ordered to report to my brother Maelor upon his success. Within weeks, Maelor sent word to the capital of an untimely accident befalling Podrick Lannister. During a routine march, a single shaft pierced the edge of the woods near Sarsfield and caught the Lannister lord in his heart, killing him on the spot. With Podrick Lannister's death, the rebels lost their figurehead whom they had rallied around, and soon scattered and surrendered to my brother's rule once again. The Westerlands returned to peace and my brother to safety at Casterly Rock. It had been said many times before by my father, but hopefully that was the last of the Lannisters to trouble my family.
The months following Podrick Lannister's death saw the birth of my fifth child, the death of two of my Kingsguard and the ending of another conflict elsewhere int the Seven Kingdoms. The deaths of Ser Medgar and Lord Commander Balon Swann shocked many in the capital, including myself, particularly because their deaths occurred on the same afternoon. Though both were advanced in age, dying on the same day made many think their deaths were not of natural reasons. Even I held my suspicions, but the Maesters assured me that no foul play was involved in either of their deaths, but it was merely a coincidence that they should pass from the world within hours of each other. With their deaths, two new Kingsguard had to be selected, and a new Lord Commander was needed too. After some deliberation, I named Ser Loras Tyrell as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and tasked him with helping me choose potential candidates to replace Ser Balon and Ser Medgar. A short while later, Ser Gerold of Peckleton and Ser Daven Clifton arrived in the capital and swore their oaths as the two newest members of my Kingsuard.
My marriage to my sister had proven to be a fruitful one, one clearly blessed by the Seven. After four sons, Rhaenys gave birth to a daughter, whom we named Rhaenys- after her mother. Though the age gap between her and Aemond was nearly seven years, it was probable that Rhaenys would eventually marry her eldest brother. However, that would still leave me with three other sons lacking in wives. Should the gods not bless me with more daughters, or should they continue to bless me with sons, it would force me to look outside of the bloodline to find matches for them. Though marriages to Tyrells, Martells or Conningtons were not to be laughed at, it was always preferable among Targaryens to keep out blood pure through marrying our siblings. With each passing year, it was looking more and more likely that this would not be achievable, but at least my eldest son and heir now had a sister whom he could one day call his wife.
News also reached the capital from Dorne, sent directly from Trystane Martell himself. The only surviving child of Doran Martell, it had been nearly two years since Lester Connington declared war on Obara Vaith, in an attempt to put Trystane on his rightful seat at Sunspear. Most of the fighting had occurred in Dorne, though the Vaiths had sent a small detachment to Dragonstone in an attempt to draw the attention of Lord Lester's forces. However, Princess Obara's little move failed to achieve anything, and after continuous and relentless pressure from the Stormlands, she was eventually forced to surrender. House Vaith was removed from Sunspear, and Trystane Martell took his place as Prince of Dorne. After many long years, House Martell was finally restored, and the crown had regained one of it's strongest allies in the process. While things were looking worse for wear in the Westerlands, at least the Martell's success in Dorne could be viewed as a high point, and something to celebrate.
However, at the end of every high point comes a low point, and it wasn't long before such a low came about. I had hoped that Podrick Lannister would be the last of our troubles in the West, but word once more reached me of a Lannister uprising. This time, some lowly Lannister- but still a Lannister- was pressing his claim against Maelor. This Duren was not like Podrick Lannister or Tywin, he was more simple, but he shared their name and as such, he felt his cause was just. Fewer lords had rallied behind him, a factor that greatly benefited my brother, but it did not matter. My brother raised a large force and met Duren Lannister head on in battle, defeating him and imprisoning him before the rebellion could even begin. It was almost certain that Duren would forfeit his life for his actions, but what followed was something no man in the Seven Kingdoms could have foreseen.
They say that when a Targaryen is born, the Gods toss a coin and the world waits to see how it will land. This refers to the rather unfortunate aspect of our bloodline, in which a number of my kin have succumbed to madness. My great-grandfather was the last Targaryen to show such traits, that is, before now. Perhaps succumbing to our own bloodline or perhaps to the constant aggression from the Lannisters, my brother Maelor fell into lunacy. Duren Lannister was imprisoned, his direct family was imprisoned, and every single Lannister in the Westerlands was seized as well. They were all brought to Casterly Rock, where Maelor had them all tossed from the peak into the waters below. With one fell swoop, my brother extinguished one of the greatest houses there ever was, barring the Kingslayer and his cousin Martyn at Castle Black. House Lannister was no more, and on that day, my brother ensured that no lord would ever show favor to him again, even his own vassals. Even as king, there was now nothing I could do to help him. He was lost.
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