Viserys was surprised to hear Laenor and Elaena announced. He bade the Kingsguard to admit them and turned his puzzled frown to the two leather-clad members of his family.
"Did you cut short your visit to the Tooth?" Viserys addressed his daughter first.
"There was a change of plans after I arrived to share your approval for my good-brother to investigate his assassination." Elaena paused and met his curious gaze with her blue eyes. "He thought it best to begin as soon as possible, and it dawned on me that the Dornish may feel less alarmed if I arrived with him instead of someone like Daemon or even Princess Rhaenys, who has a stern bearing."
Viserys was confused, perhaps he had misheard.
"I'm sorry my dear, could you repeat that?"
"I went with my good-brother in the hopes of providing a softer touch to the discussion." Elaena said simply.
Viserys felt his body grow cold, and then erupt in anger. He rounded upon his good-son.
"DID THE POISON ADDLE YOUR MIND?"
Laenor remained stoic. "Your Grace, I attempted to dissuade her, but her rhetoric was effective. In truth, she kept me from doing something rash – so it was quite good that she came."
"That is not the point! She could have –" Viserys was cut off as Elaena stepped between his advance and Laenor.
"Father, Laenor speaks true. He took great pains to ensure the rendezvous point was completely safe and that no harm could befall me. I would rather you not be cross with him, when I was the one who convinced him to take me."
Viserys glared over his daughter's head for a long moment before lowering his gaze to Elaena's level.
"You have no business being anywhere near Dorne! They have no honor and will stoop to the darkest depths to harm their enemies." Viserys spat out, and began to pace, needing to work out some of his anger through physical exertion.
"They weren't responsible."
"What?" Viserys jerked a half-step while mid-stride, before continuing his pacing, "You believe Qoren?" he asked after a moment with disbelief plain in his voice.
"I do, as does Laenor who oversaw the sharp questioning of some of the captured tools of our true enemy." Elaena paused and Viserys was about to ask what she meant, when she continued. "Tyrosh. They wished to pit Dorne against the Seven Kingdoms as vengeance for Dorne quitting the war so swiftly after joining them in the Stepstones, and of course against us."
He looked to Laenor, apprehension beginning to winnow through the haze of fury clouding his thoughts. "This is true?"
Laenor's face was unreadable, able to speak of brutal torture in the same voice he used when speaking of the weather.
"It is, Your Grace. Prince Qoren fully understands our initial suspicion, as it was a clever scheme, but they acted quickly and closed the net upon the Tyroshi agents. My men have been avenged." Laenor said steadily, voice monotone.
Viserys was silent as his anger redirected to consideration of what the news meant.
"Then Tyrosh must be punished." Viserys said.
"Yes, Your Grace." Laenor continued. "I have plans to present to the small council on how we can accomplish this swiftly. If my plan works as intended, Tyrosh will fall before Myr and Lys even realize it is occurring. From there we offer guarantees that the same will not happen to them, so long as they avoid a return to piracy or attempt to reclaim Tyrosh or the Stepstones."
Viserys closed his eyes for moment, the world falling silent as he pondered the image of those who would harm his beloved daughter being destroyed at the Dark Storm's ruthless hand, before he slowly nodded. "Tyrosh richly deserves their fate." he spat, his tone arctic as his rage cooled to a darker resolve. "To think that assassins were within ten feet of Elaena…" His bones creaked and shook, so clenched were his hands and jaw. His eyes turned back to Laenor. "I am still vexed with you. Regardless of the reasons, you should have sought my approval before endangering my daughter."
Laenor met the King's gaze steadily and Elaena interrupted again.
"I have reached the age of maturity, father. I fly a dragon. I have been over the Wall. I am betrothed. It warms my heart to know you hold me in such affection, but I am no longer a child that needs coddling and sheltering."
Viserys paused as memories of his daughters in their younger years flashed before his eyes, then sighed as he considered Laenor's own role in protecting them time and again. "You will always be my precious daughter. And yet, I trust Ser Laenor with Rhaenyra's happiness, I suppose he's also earned my trust in your safety. If he says the meeting with Prince Qoren was safe for you, I will accept it."
Elaena took Viserys into an embrace and it felt as if a weight had been lifted from his chest. His clenched hands relaxed to hold her gently, and he felt his anger wane, as if the years burdening him fell from his shoulders in moments.
He had done the right thing in not begrudging his good-son's actions. He well knew how convincing Elaena could be! She had a silver tongue, and her sharp wits could guide a man's reasoning down the path she intended. Thinking back upon the various projects and favors he'd bestowed; he realized more fully in that moment just how effective she truly was.
All turned to the good of the Seven Kingdoms, even these bloody affairs of treachery became a chance for swift vengeance and peace. I will speak with Rhaenyra at the wedding. The lords would not like her being Queen and a woman as her Hand, but like Rhaenys, Elaena must have a seat upon the small council to help advise her sister.
"Thank you, father. And now I do still need to visit my intended. I do despise being tardy to anything."
Viserys chuckled. That was certainly true. His daughter was always a structured individual and one of the few visible things that exasperated her was when others were late to something.
"Go then, with my love, Elaena. Worry not about the coming conflict, if the Dark Storm says the conflict can be ended quickly, it will be so."
***
Laenor disliked the continued mummery, but it appeared he had a talent for it. The King suspected nothing, and, true to her word, Elaena had stayed his wrath. The plans she had left him were absurdly detailed. The logistics were already in place, and since a much smaller muster would be required – the shipping of the soldiers would be straightforward. The larger muster was still of use to continue the belief, in the eyes of Westeros and Essos, that the target was Dorne, but most of the Seven Kingdoms would not be fighting.
Now, I must convince the small council, and particularly Daemon, that Elaena's plan will work.
He walked in with his back straight, his face composed, and himself ready. The faces of the council were a mix of smiles and surprise. Beesbury grinned and stood to greet him.
"Ser Laenor! I am pleased to see you have returned unharmed."
"Thank you, Lord Beesbury. I have news for the small council, along with a proposal to end this strife swiftly and with finality."
Daemon cocked his head and looked at him; his gaze was curious.
"First, I have learned that it was not Prince Qoren who plotted the assassination, and Dorne was not responsible."
There was some shock, and Laenor noted how Tyland Lannister's eyes widened, the rest of the council more subdued.
"Then who?" Daemon demanded.
"And what is the proof?" Otto asked right behind him.
"I interrogated the Tyroshi agents personally," Laenor said, pausing to look each person in the room in the eyes. "It was Tyrosh that was behind the attack on High Tide and my person. They sought to weaken the Seven Kingdoms enough to recontest the Stepstones. Should we not be sufficiently weakened after crushing Dorne, they would simply be pleased that an ally who abandoned them swiftly has suffered."
Laenor took in the reactions of everyone. The Grand Maester and Lord Beesbury looked contemplative. Jaspar Wylde looked furious; that sort of subterfuge seemed to have struck a nerve. Larys Strong simply smiled, while Otto Hightower looked perplexed. Tyland looked to the King as if for confirmation of what was being said. Daemon's face had gone still and was unreadable.
The Hand cleared his throat. "All here know, I was opposed to beginning hostilities toward Dorne, but I must confess, this sudden news alarms me. Ser Laenor, none doubt your valor in battle, but is it not possible you were deceived by the duplicitous Dornish? Simply because they fête you warmly with fine drink and entertainment does not mean they are innocent."
Laenor almost let his expression fall. Did Otto think he had been seduced by a comely Dornish lad?
Elaena would say that it is best to view people's actions based on what benefits them. Now why would Hightower be opposed to war with Tyrosh? Ah, of course, our Hand has already deduced that it would fall under the fiefdom of the Stepstones and the long history of acrimony between Otto and Daemon is well known.
"They are innocent of this. The Tyroshi agent could no more lie to me than he could escape my wrath. Do not think that I take lightly the fact that men and women under my house's banner died that night. Nor do I take lightly the fact that it was but chance that the assassins entered my room and not my good-sister's. I would not spend my fury on an innocent target, but I will expend it to the hilt against the true culprit," Laenor said, continuing the mien he had been instructed to maintain by Elaena.
Otto's cheek twitched a bit, likely contemplating just what Laenor had done to the agent. Tyland looked a bit ill as his face blanched, Jasper Wylde looking grim. Even Lord Beesbury's brows drew down and a grimace flashed across his lips, but he still tilted his head in a resolute nod to Laenor.
It is wearisome to have everyone think I am a monster.
Larys spoke then, ending the stifling silence.
"A clearer picture is being drawn, Your Grace," the Master of Whisperers addressed the King. "Dorne seemed utterly unprepared for war with us. Outside of the one border raid that was fended off by Prince Aemond, they have made no attempt to attack us, nor did they have a muster called until we called our own. I trust the Dark Storm's assessment and will begin putting more of my ears in Essos."
Border raid?
Daemon took a gulp of wine and then stood up.
"I agree, let us deal with Tyrosh, but why should we stop there? Even if Prince Qoren is innocent, it was his people who assaulted High Tide. It was a Dornish captain who gave passage and would have aided in the assassins' escape. It is well past time this continent was unified under one rule."
"No." Laenor simply replied.
"No?" Daemon questioned in surprise.
"I met with Prince Qoren, man-to-man, and he revealed our enemy. More than just that, he has offered his aid in dealing with the Tyroshi pirate scum, and their role in my plan is an important one. But more than this, my good-father, your brother, our King, does not long for war. And war with Dorne would be a prolonged one, brutal, grinding, and costly. War with Tyrosh will be over swiftly, our vengeance complete, and the Stepstones expanded to include an Essosi city. A city rivaling that of King's Landing, and under your rule." Laenor gave Daemon a meaningful look; he hoped it conveyed what he intended.
"Wait," Tyland Lannister interjected, "why would Daemon rule Tyrosh?"
"Because he and Caraxes will be instrumental in taking the city," Laenor replied, "and because it is a natural extension of the Stepstones fief."
"My nephew has the right of it; I rule the Stepstones, and Tyrosh borders it. Your brother rules more than just Casterly Rock," Daemon said, affixing his glare upon the Master of Ships.
"Before we speak of spoils, what is this plan of yours, Ser Laenor?" Grand Maester Mellos interjected.
"I plan on unleashing a lightning-fast war upon them. The plan has three primary principles. First, is utter surprise. I will require oaths from each of you to speak not one word to another – not to your liege lords, not to your wives, not even your closest friends – unless our King, or I personally grant permission. A quick resolution minimizes the cost of the war and preserves the prize to be won." Laenor began to walk around the room, directing the movements of those seated at the table. If he was going to follow Elaena's plan, he might as well take advantage of her offered wisdom.
"The second key is swiftness. We will descend upon the city with our invasion fleet and our dragons. Both we and Dorne will have our fleets massed in the Stepstones. It will seem as though a great battle is about to take place. In one night, our fleet and Dorne's will descend upon Tyrosh. At the same time, Caraxes, Meleys, and Seasmoke will strike immediately prior to our landing."
He held up a third finger. "The final key is confusion. We shall make a decapitation strike upon our enemy's leadership. We bring fire to the Bleeding Tower, slay the Archon in his manse, and tear the gates asunder with our dragons. Without effective leadership, the soldiers and sellswords shall not provide meaningful resistance. In a single night, we will make them pay in blood and expand our power into Essos."
The small council was silent for several long seconds as Laenor let his words sink in.
Beesbury rapped his knuckles upon the table. "A bold plan, a good plan! Should it succeed, the burden upon our treasury will be much diminished compared to what we would face with our original designs against Dorne."
Jasper Wylde added his support. "Such foul treachery and dastardly conduct must be punished. Swift justice is always welcome."
"How can we trust Dorne?" Otto asked. "They know of our plans, what if you are walking into an ambush? Our fleet defeated, dragons slain, a potential humiliating defeat. If Dorne is playing us false, we are falling into their trap."
Tyland was quick to agree. "Yes, I'm afraid our Lord Hand is right to be concerned. I, for one, am not convinced that this isn't some deep mummery concocted by Dorne."
"Let them try!" Daemon roared. "I welcome it, we will have three dragons, a fleet, and thousands of bold men of Westeros. If Dorne tries anything, we will see them burn alongside the Tyroshi dogs. I have been given command of the war effort, and unless my brother, our King, countermands me, this is the plan."
He drew his sword. "And as Laenor has suggested, I will have your oaths not to share the details of our war plans. Should you violate it, I will have your heads."
Elaena was correct again. He couldn't resist the plum of Tyrosh. Daemon is now fully invested.
***
"Others take you, what in the Seven Halls was that?!" Otto snarled, barely restraining his voice from rising to a shout.
Larys gave a simple shrug. "My lord, it is nothing more than a setback."
"Setback? And no, Strong, I'm not referring to the farce Ser Laenor orchestrated in there – I am talking about you not only failing to speak against it but also providing evidence absolving Dorne of responsibility for the assassins!"
"It was too late to do otherwise. By swiftly embracing the explanation, I protected my position and garnered support from Laenor." Larys wore a small smile that barely upturned the corners of his lips. It almost sickened Otto to look at. "I discerned that he had already convinced the King. Better to avoid being seen striving against the hero of the hour."
Otto snarled in frustration. He could see the sense of the man's actions, but it galled him how badly this had turned. Who could have possibly predicted that a vengeance-driven monstrosity like the Dark Storm would ally with the Dornish instead of having the decency to get himself killed!
"We must somehow give warning to Tyrosh. Perhaps the entire Triarchy can still bleed the Blacks."
"I would advise against it, my lord," Larys said directly.
"Why?"
"Ser Laenor was clear that no one is to speak of it outside these council chambers, save with express permission from Laenor or the King. If Tyrosh learns of the impending attack, it will raise uncomfortable questions. As of yet, I do not believe your faction is under suspicion. We should ensure it stays that way."
Otto felt anger suffuse him. Failure seemed to present itself at every turn.
"What I do not understand is how that sword-swallower was so misled. There couldn't have been any real evidence of Tyroshi involvement."
Larys looked startled. "My lord… I fear that in your wroth you have failed to see what is plain."
"Explain it then, before I have you tossed out of the window."
Otto mastered himself and took a deep breath. He was acting more like his departed brother, than himself. Control mattered, and he was on the cusp of losing it.
"Laenor lied. It was not the Dornish who lied to him; it was the Dornish who lied for him." Larys did not appear as if he were presenting dire news; instead, he was more animated than Otto had ever seen him. "All this time, we thought it was the Sea Snake, or maybe Rhaenys, pulling the puppet strings of the Blacks. Oh yes, Daemon floundered about in his typical gauche style, but the real scheming has always been done by others. But I was wrong – so fantastically wrong – it is not the Dark Storm's parents. It is the Dark Storm himself!"
Otto's face must have shown his confusion.
"Don't you see? Laenor is more than just a man who enjoys a tussle with comely young men, fine wine, and bloodletting. His raw prowess on the battlefield is only matched by his titanic intellect!"
"And just how have you come to this conclusion?" Otto asked, voice short.
"The bulk of the supplies for the invasion were moved to our eastern coast before Laenor went to Dorne. He knows it wasn't the Dornish or the Tyroshi, but he also knew that the war drums were beating too loudly to easily stop them. In one stroke he avoids a costly war and brings in a city that nearly rivals the size of King's Landing. He also pushes Daemon and his vanity filled tantrums even further away from Dragonstone and Driftmark." Larys went on, speaking rapidly.
Could it be?
"I would wager he was the one who pushed the match between him and Rhaenyra. We contend not with a foolish woman with wise advisors, but with her husband – the true leader of the Black faction. He will rule, not Rhaenyra, though most like none will know the truth." Larys showed his teeth. "But now we know better."
Otto was slowly nodding. "It all makes sense. I wondered who was pulling Beesbury and Elaena's strings with the Dragon Bank. It was Laenor. No wonder such charitable terms were given not just to his father in the war in the Stepstones, but even to his cousin, who went on a voyage to the farthest reaches of Essos. Your reports indicate that Elaena and Laenor are close; no doubt he saw her intellect and quickly ensured she could carry out his will." Otto's gaze hardened into a glare. "How could you not have seen this sooner?"
Larys shook his head. "You've known him longer than I have, my lord. Remember, though, if I have hit my mark, we are dealing with someone who is a master of deception and has the intellect to wield it effectively. I am but a mortal man, but as good as he may be, no one is perfect. Now that we know Aegon's true rival, we can plan."
"Plan? Plan!?" Otto raged. "How do we put a stop to a one-man army with every advantage? They are going to add Tyrosh to their holdings and be on good terms with the Dornish. The odds grow ever bleaker for my grandson!"
"There is truth in that, but Tyrosh is a poisoned fruit. Lys and Myr may hesitate in avenging Tyrosh against the full might of the Seven Kingdoms, but should we be embroiled in a civil war… well, they would jump at the opportunity to evict Daemon. Moreover, Tyrosh is also a port full of commerce. It will be even easier to slip assassins there than it will be at our other targets," Larys said in a soothing manner.
"Because that has worked oh so well," Otto replied, voice filled with derision.
Larys bowed his head in acknowledgement to his point. "Daemon may be an easier boar to skewer than the Dark Storm. But not until the intended time, as you yourself have said in the past, Daemon makes it easier for us to recruit lords against a Rhaenyra rule. Although, it grows less valuable as Laenor ascends."
Otto shook his head in disgust. "Our hopes grow dim, so we must play to every advantage we have. My granddaughter must bond with Silverwing as soon as she can be trusted with the task. Aemond must secure the Stormlands for our cause. His daughters are young yet, but a long betrothal with Boros Baratheon's eldest to Aemond will do our cause well. Viserys will be happy to have the boy away from King's Landing after his overeagerness in Dorne."
A pity that Aemond's aggression had not poisoned negotiations with Laenor, it would have solved so many issues at once.
Otto's gazed fixed on Larys. "Have word spread in the Stormlands that the King is upset with Aemond for defending the Dornish Marches from raiders. That will improve his reputation there and ensure he is made welcome."
"We must take steps to improve Aegon's reputation," Otto continued.
"To my ears' knowledge there are no issues with his reputation." Larys replied with a questioning lilt to his voice.
"Yes, but there are few who speak of him at all. He is an afterthought. Unfortunately, Ser Criston does not believe he will be a grand knight and one to win tourneys, so we must bolster his reputation in another manner."
"I see, do you have something in mind?" Larys asked.
"A few thoughts, but you'll need to plan and attend to the details. Perhaps he and Sunfyre can burn a pirate ship from Essos during one of his flights near King's Landing. Or mayhaps he is on a hunt, and 'assassins' seek to undo him, but he slays them in a manner likened to the Dark Storm. Perhaps some other non-martial means of endearing the people to him. Do not put him at any risk, but we must have an answer for the reputational prowess of Laenor. Even among the Reach, nobles who have previously spoken of supporting the rightful heir have backtracked on their word."
Larys nodded. "I will make the arrangements, and review them with you for approval."
"Success this time, or your usefulness will be at an end." Otto warned as Larys left his office.
***
Aemond was curious why the letter from his father ordered him back to King's Landing. Had his soft-headed mother convinced him it was "too dangerous" to allow him to remain on the border with Dorne after his victories? Would his prowess in battle not have proven he was in no peril?
A pity that mother was not more like the Dark Storm's mother. Princess Rhaenys would never behave this way.
Aemond acknowledged to himself that there might be another reason, yet he could not help but wonder why he was being recalled. His flight back to King's Landing was swift. Vermithor was aging, but after his sister Elaena had shown him the trick of using updrafts over certain types of terrain, long flights had become easier.
He landed and saw his brother Aegon waiting for him. Aemond greeted him and then asked, "Do you know why father has beckoned me home? I had purpose at Harvest Hall."
Aegon gave a slight shake of his head. "No, but he isn't happy. Neither is mother. Did you really burn down a town full of the Dornish?"
Aemond grinned. "Aye, I did. And a pair of villages too. That will teach the Dornish not to cause mayhem in our lands."
"So, it is true. Were you not supposed to be a tool of defense and deterrence? Why fly into Dorne itself? You could have been lured into an ambush." Aegon's voice took on an irritated note as they entered the small wheelhouse that would take them to the gates of the Red Keep.
"I'm not a fool, brother. I know what I was doing. Vermithor is more than capable of handling what the Dornish can throw at us." Aemond was weary from the flight, and not looking forward to meeting his parents. He felt it in his bones that he was going to be sidelined from the rest of the conquest of Dorne.
"Was Queen Rhaenys a fool? Was Meraxes a weak dragon? Yet they both fell in Dorne. Try to keep reign of your pride – or don't and see what happens with father." Aegon countered.
Aemond silently raged, but he would not take out his frustration on one who gave good counsel.
"I suppose you do have a point. Does father have a reason for his anger? Has he said anything more?"
"Not much. I tried to pry, but he only said it wasn't my concern. I asked Mother too, but she said only that if all her children would just listen to her, they would be safer. I found it odd, because I can think of nothing our siblings have done to put themselves in danger. She refused to answer further. In truth, I'm annoyed at not being trusted with whatever concern our parents have."
Aemond pondered the situation and the falsehoods he had agreed to tell while they rode. As they neared their destination, Aegon fidgeted and turned to him.
"Did… did you feel anything when doing the killing?"
Aemond smirked. "The killing itself brought no special joy – they were no challenge for me, so I cannot claim any particular glory. I was satisfied, however, in knowing I had taken my first step toward writing my name in the annals of history."
"And you felt no pause or concern for those you have slain? Even the smallfolk in the town?"
"No, and why should I?" Aemond questioned. "They were assets of the enemy."
Aegon frowned. "That's true, but I've talked with other knights. They say they still remember the faces of those they killed. Ser Steffon said he had nightmares for weeks after his first battle."
Aemond laughed, "I am a Targaryen, not some weak-stomached fool."
"He's a member of the Kingsguard; I'd hardly call him weak," Aegon chided.
"Perhaps he grew stronger in time. Elaena says that everyone begins weak, but there is only shame if one remains that way. I've just advanced faster than others," Aemond replied.
"That wasn't the context she… argh, why must you be like this, brother? I just wished to make certain you are well." Aegon complained.
"Your concern is unnecessary. Care for our younger siblings if you wish to do something productive."
Really now, I slept like a babe afterwards. It was hardly even a battle, I simply directed Vermithor.
He was greeted by one of the Cargyll brothers, who escorted him to the King's chambers. If he cared more, he would have learned to distinguish them, but they were of little importance.
"Father, I have come as commanded." Aemond said in a casual tone.
"Explain yourself. What happened that saw you and Vermithor cross into Dorne?" the King demanded; his tone harsh.
Aemond schooled his featured and reported. "While patrolling on Vermithor, I saw a large band of Dornish riders nearing one of the border villages. I flew down and gave them a taste of the Bronze Fury's flame and they scattered. Realizing, that if I left it at that, they would just return another day I took it upon myself to hunt them down. Unfortunately," Aemond paused as he saw his father's mien not change, "the riders scattered. They ultimately went to different locations and it took quite a bit of effort to track and root them all down."
"Track? What, did you land Vermithor and search for hoofprints in the dirt?"
"No, father. But I could see the direction they were headed and then when I flew over one of the villages, I saw some of the riders. I repeated this process and…"
"Silence your deceiving tongue this instant! You are not as clever as you think. I put my trust in Elaena's idea of giving you and your siblings some duties beyond King's Landing. Little did I know that agreeing to it would almost get her killed! I should have trusted my instincts after the attack on Laenor and kept you away from the Stormlands."
Wait, what?
"What do you mean it almost got Elaena killed? I do not understand, father."
The King scowled. "Seven Hells… forget about that. I will explain at a later time."
"You will explain now, I want…"
"BOY! ARE YOU BEREFT OF ALL YOUR SENSES?"
Aemond flushed red. One did not make demands of a King, even if he was his father.
"Forgive me, Your Grace. My concern over my sister overrode any other thought."
Those were the rights words, as his father seemed to let his anger drain away.
"You would not be a good brother if you did not have that concern. Let me assure you, she is well and safe. But the actions you take can have consequences beyond your sight. You are confined to your quarters for the next two weeks, and you are not to fly Vermithor for the next three months."
Aemond clenched his jaw. This was outrageous! It was unfair! But speaking it, could only lead to further repercussions. Better to broach the subject when his father was less aggrieved. Aemond did not know how his actions had somehow put Elaena in danger, but he would find out, and try to make amends.
"I understand, Your Grace. May I go?"
"Off with you," he said, but as Aemond neared the door, he spoke up once again. "Aemond, you have erred considerably, but I am pleased that you are whole. If you feel ill or have trouble sleeping, send for Mellos."
First Aegon and now my father. It seems clear that Targaryen blood does not always win out. They do not realize I am far more akin to Laenor and Daemon than to them.