King's Landing, a chamber.
"Alicent, I can't help you with this request," Jeyne said, leaning back in her chair with a look of regret.
Across from her, Alicent frowned in dissatisfaction. "You said that in a man's world, we women must unite."
"Dorne's request for a marriage alliance is a matter for the king to decide. I cannot intervene," Jeyne replied, her tone firm but sympathetic.
"Viserys will marry Helaena to Dorne, and I must act before he agrees," Alicent pleaded. "I have only one daughter, and I cannot abandon her."
Jeyne's demeanor remained unchanged. "My influence lies in the Vale, not King's Landing. Here, I have no power."
She understood the dangers of arranged marriages for women all too well, which is why she remained unmarried at 24. But when it came to the political maneuvering of the realm, the king had the final say, and she was powerless.
Realizing Jeyne wouldn't help, Alicent's expression hardened. "Jeyne, don't forget our agreement. I've been advocating for you to Viserys."
Jeyne's face showed a flicker of irritation. "I didn't see any results from your so-called advocacy. I approached Rhaegar myself, and I was rejected. I can't even imagine how he perceives me now."
"Viserys is considering your union just as he is Helaena's," Alicent retorted, her tone turning cold and threatening. "Jeyne, I am the queen. While I may struggle to make something happen, it's easy for me to ruin it."
Jeyne's face darkened. "Threats won't change the fact that I have no power here."
The greatest humiliation of her life was being rejected by Rhaegar. But even before that, She was the Lady of the Eyrie. How could she give in to threats?
Alicent stood up, looking down at Jeyne. "Our partnership ends the moment I leave this room."
"Feel free," Jeyne replied, her red lips barely moving, her indifference clear.
Alicent snorted and strode out. Just as she was about to close the door, Jeyne's voice stopped her.
"I can't help you, but think about who can influence the king's decisions and who you can turn to for help."
"No need to remind me," Alicent snapped, pushing the door shut and leaving.
Once outside, Alicent regained her composure, adjusting her makeup as she walked towards Rhaenyra's quarters. She understood Jeyne's hint. Who in the entire kingdom could sway Viserys' decisions? There was only one answer: Rhaegar. And who could influence Rhaegar? Rhaenyra.
Alicent had known her course of action even before she entered Jeyne's room. Larys Strong had provided her with the perfect plan. First, approach Jeyne for help. Regardless of the outcome, the attempt would underscore Helaena's importance. Though she had threatened Jeyne, it was a necessary tactic to secure her warning.
Now, it was time to find Rhaenyra and plead her case. With this in mind, Alicent approached Rhaenyra's door and knocked.
Knock, knock, knock...
"Rhaenyra, I need to speak with you," Alicent called out, her voice filled with sadness, her expression transformed to one of desperation.
...
Tyrosh, In a luxurious garden.
A group of middle-aged men, each dressed in elaborate clothes and sporting different hair colors, gathered here.
A dark-skinned, red-haired old man in a brocade robe sat in a pavilion, holding a young girl in his arms.
Inside the pavilion, a group of unruly young men in leather armor sat on either side, each holding a beautiful woman in his arms.
Opposite the brocade-robed old man stood a young man with silver-gold curls and blue eyes.
The young man spoke, "Archon Graghas, the battle for the Stepstones is going well, and the Triarchy is about to win."
The brocade-robed Archon drooped his eyelids and smiled, "That blonde-haired Lannister is truly a fool, just by spreading some half-truths and half-lies. He fell for it."
"That's right, that Sea Snake nearly died, and Westeros's army is likely in disarray," laughed a young Myrman with black curly hair and olive skin.
The Triarchy, also known as the Kingdom of the Three Daughters, consists of the free-trading city-states of Tyrosh, Myr, and Lys. The ruler of Tyrosh is called the Archon, which is the title of the old man in the brocade robe. The unruly youths are mercenaries, one of Tyrosh's specialties.
Myr is governed by a council of magister, and one of the Myr youths present is a governor's representative. Lys has an elective political structure with a elected political official callled the First Magister.
The young man with silver-blonde curls who spoke first is Drazenko Rogare, the younger brother of the First Magister of Lys, Lysandro Rogare. The Rogare family is one of the largest in Lys and operates the Rogare Bank, which rivals the Iron Bank of Braavos in wealth.
Drazenko Rogare said, "The War for the Stepstones is not yet over. The Targaryen prince is still gathering supplies and troops, intending to retake the Bloodstone Isles."
"A brat new to the battlefield is not worth mentioning, except for his dragon," the brocade-robed Archon waved dismissively, showing great disdain for the so-called prince.
If Daemon Targaryen had ridden Caraxes and led an army to battle the Stepstones, he would have been more cautious. But a young Targaryen who spent his days on Dragonstone, unable even to detect scouts in his garden? How dare he claim he will fight to the death in half a month's time? It's a joke.
The young man from Myr took out a letter and reminded, "My Lords, we have a new message from the front. The army on Grey Gallows Island is short of supplies and urgently needs replenishment."
"What are the movements of the other side?" the brocade-robed elder asked.
The Myrish youth replied, "The four dragons have been taking turns bombarding Bloodstone Island. Our people are hiding in caves and have suffered minimal damage."
"They're just relying on their dragons to show off!" the brocade-robed old man grunted, clearly disgusted with the dragons.
The young Myrish man continued, "According to our intelligence, a large number of cargo ships will depart from Driftmark to Grey Gallows Island in two days. We can intercept them."
"The other side has dragons. They won't just stand by and watch us destroy the cargo ships," Drazenko Rogare objected.
"Under normal circumstances, they wouldn't. But these are not normal times," the Myrish youth said confidently. "Our scouts have reported that Grey Gallows Island has reorganized its army and is preparing to launch a counterattack against Bloodstone Island soon."
"We can attack from the east to draw the enemy's main force and use this time to destroy their supply lines," the brocade-robed old man agreed. "It's feasible. If we cut off their supplies, the army on Grey Gallows Island will be unable to break through."
When Bloodstone Island was recaptured, the mercenaries looted all the supplies. The remnants of Westeros's army now rely on supplies from the rear. By destroying these supply lines in advance, the enemy will starve without a decisive battle.
"We can also invade the Gullet and plunder Driftmark. It's a rich place," the Myrish youth suggested greedily.
Drazenko Rogare frowned. "Laena Velaryon guards Driftmark. She controls the largest and oldest dragon, Vhagar."
"What's to fear? If our armies come ashore to pillage, will the dragons destroy the whole island?" the Myrish youth retorted proudly.
Dragons are indeed powerful in battle, but they are not omnipotent. He didn't believe a dragonrider would destroy their own land so easily.
After some discussion, the brocade-robed old man made a decision. He formulated a plan, "Two days from now, Bloodstone Island will send a small army to attack Grey Gallows Island to attract the dragons' attention."
"Our main force will use ships to plunder the supply lines, and depending on the situation, decide whether to invade Driftmark. First, we must cut off the enemy's supplies."
Upon hearing this, the Myrish youth and Drazenko Rogare pondered for a moment. Finally, the Rogare nodded in agreement.
...
Time flew by, and two days had passed.
In the Narrow Sea, near a island, a dozen large cargo ships sailed steadily towards the Stone Islands. The fleet advanced slowly, eventually reaching the area of the Cape of Wrath.
"Attack!"
Warships bearing the symbols of the Triarchy approached from the distance. The lookout on one of the cargo ships spotted the incoming vessels and shouted, "Enemy! Turn around!"
The helmsman panicked and tried to steer the ship to safety, but it was too late. The warships, with their superior speed, quickly closed in and surrounded the cargo ships.
The watchman counted the number of enemy ships—there were more than sixty.
"Lower the ramming horns and charge!" the Triarchy commander ordered.
The warships surged forward, their thick ramming horns crashing into the cargo ships. Both fleets came to a halt as the warships rammed into their targets.
"Board and fight!" the commander yelled, drawing his scimitar. He led the Triarchy pirates as they boarded the cargo ships, using the ramming horns and chains to climb aboard.
Soon, the pirates had surrounded the dozen cargo ships, boarding them one after another and starting to slaughter and loot.
A strange scene unfolded. Before the pirates could board, the helmsmen and sailors on the cargo ships jumped into the sea, abandoning their vessels in a desperate bid to escape.
The pirates, undeterred, stormed the cargo holds to search for loot. To their shock, they found it empty. This was true for almost all the cargo ships.
Only one ship had a group of soldiers waiting inside. Cole led the charge, wielding a morningstar, and shouted, "Kill all the pirates of the Triarchy!"
Behind him, fewer than a hundred soldiers fought fiercely against the pirates, showing no fear.
Realizing something was amiss, the Triarchy commander shouted, "Retreat! This is a trap! Hurry back to support Bloodstone Island!"
His heart pounded as he looked at the empty cargo ships. The enemy had no substantial supplies. The scouts' reports had been false.
But his retreat orders were drowned out by a thunderous roar.
"Roar !!!"
A dragon's roar echoed across the sea, striking fear into the hearts of the pirates. Four dragons appeared in the sky: the charcoal-black Cannibal, the blood-red Meleys, the golden Sunfyre, and the light silver-gray Seasmoke.
Rhaegar, riding the Cannibal, looked down at the Triarchy fleet and commanded, "Dracarys!"
With a deafening roar, Cannibal was the first to unleash a torrent of ghostly green dragonfire upon the fleet. Rhaenys, Aegon, and Laenor followed, their dragons spewing flames in various hues.
In an instant, the four dragons circled over the Triarchy fleet, engulfing it in a blaze of colorful, destructive fire.
(Word count: 1,768)