Chapter 1-A Bloody Prince!
The ancient castle of Runestone Castle was rife with the screams of a babe in so many years. The union between the House Royce and Targaryen had proven itself to be a disaster yet to the relief of many, the solitary and rather compulsory bedding had borne its fruit, with the Lady of Runestone falling pregnant on the first moon of her marriage.
And now, after nine months of labor, Runestone welcomed a babe in its Hall. A babe that many had thought would bridge the icy and frigid relationship between Lady Rhea and her Lord husband, the Rogue Prince.
Yet one glimpse into the happenings of Runestone on this rather joyous occasion was enough to put down such hopeful thoughts.
"I thought I was clear on what name my child was to have," the young Prince raged. His pride, wounded one too many times now, had just received another massive hit.
"And I never agreed to this, and this is my babe as well," Lady Rhea rejoiced as she held her child in her arms, weak and weary from her labors, yet she remained unyielding in the face of her lord husband's rage.
"You spite me! Both you and that child!" the young Prince roared.
"You name him against my wishes, and he with his hair. I refuse to believe that any son of mine shall be born with hair like that!" in his rage, the Prince accused his lady wife of much more.
"Think carefully of how you speak!"
"I WILL SPEAK AS I WISH!"
"Then you shall do so in some other place," Lady challenged, and the Prince's fists balled up at that insult as he gritted his teeth.
"Then that is what I shall do!"
And so, the Blood Wyrm shall take to the skies once more and head to Kingslanding, where, despite many pleas and punishments, he would refuse to return to the lands of his wife.
ARNOLD ARRYN
There were some things known to men by tradition. Traditions that had lasted for a thousand years, and it was this very tradition that named him Lord of the Eyrie.
It was well known that a son came before a daughter, that women were too were too soft to rule, let alone rule over lands of the Vale, lands rife with honored knights and wretched mountain clansmen. This was a man's job, yet many would rush forth to deny him his right.
They would stand against him, deny him what was his by the tradition of over a thousand years as they sat a little girl on the throne of the Eyrie, letting a woman rule over them.
Yet he would not let go of what was his by right and rise in rebellion, yet those jealous of him numbered more, and he would taste defeat as that accused Lord of Runestone acted as her hand and squashed his forces, forcing him to swear fealty to a small child.
An insult he would never forget, and so he would seethe in rage, waiting for an opportunity to take back his right as he gathered support for his cause.
Years would pass, and the old Lord Yorbert Royce of Runestone would grow older still. The realm would have a new King, one who would ascend the throne, denying it to his older female cousin, the same right which would have him rule over the lands of the Vale.
The Targaryens were a problem, House Royce had married into the Royal family with Yorbert's Royce only daughter marrying the Rogue Prince, yet nothing but scorn would come from the match.
The Targaryen Prince would scorn his wife and her lands and had left a few months after the wedding only to return once since then, at the birth of his son but leave again in rage and frustration as he found the boy impure with his brown Royce hair, rather than the flowy silverish blonde of his sire's family.
And so when the opportunity came years later as the older Royce lord died, succumbing to his age, Arnold knew that it was his time to strike, and strike he would, fearing no retaliation from the dragon-riding Prince or the Crown as he sought to take control of the Eyrie.
He had expected this to be easy. Knowing that few would rise up in support of a little girl with her biggest supporter, Yorbert Royce, now dead, he would take control of the castle swiftly and bring his little cousin to heel one way or another.
Yet he was wrong.
So, very wrong as he stood there as pain rippled through his, holding his limp arm by his side as he stared at the bodies of his men all around. He was surrounded by half a dozen men, Arryn guardsmen, yet his defeat had not been caused by these simpletons.
No, the person behind this humiliation stood right infront of him, barely reaching upto his shoulders, his brown hair now tanned a dark red as he stared down at him with those ominous amethyst eyes, like he was seeing a bug.
"Kneel!" he ordered, as Arnold grit his teeth, as blood dripped from the sword the boy held in his hand, the infamous Valyrian Steel blade of House Royce, the great sword lamentation in the hands of a boy.
Yet he was no normal boy.
He was the son of Daemon Targaryen, the Rogue Prince, and though he lacked his hair and his face, the boy had his father's skill with a blade and had managed to hold off half a dozen of his men singlehandedly as he led her wretched cousin, Jeyne, to safety.
This damned boy. No, this damned monster had thwarted his plans.
Of course, he had heard rumors about the grandson of Lord Yorbert, the Targaryen Prince, and how the boy was so ahead of his peers, yet this was no man.
This was a monster.
"YOU!" he spouted angrily as six crossbows were aimed at him.
"YOU ARE NO HUMAN! YOU ARE A DEMON!" he cursed as Jeyne Arryn, his cousin and the ruler of Vale, stepped out from behind the demon, her dress also covered in blood but less so than the boy, who was nearly caked in it.
"You will not insult him like this," she commanded him before she looked at him with a perplexed expression.
"Why would you do this, cousin? Why?" she asked, acting innocent as if she did not know how she had taken away from him his rightful position.
"You dare not command me and act so innocent. You ask why I do this! Why but to take what is mine!" he scoffed loudly as he gripped his arm, and the girl reeled back, making him shake his head.
"I am ARNOLD ARRYN! THE LEGITIMATE RULER OF THE VALE AND EYRIE! THE THRONE IS MINE BY TRADITION!" he shouted before suddenly he saw the boy's gaze shift as suddenly an arrow hit him in the leg.
"ARGH!" he grunted in pain as he was forced down to one knee as the damned Prince walked towards him, the sword in his hands too big for a boy his size as it skidded on the ground behind him.
"I knew you to be vile, but I did not know that you suffered from delusions as well, Arryn," the Targaryen scoffed in a cold tone as another arrow pierced through his other leg, forcing him to his knees as his lips thinned in pain.
He thought this was it as the young boy approached him. In a swift motion, he tried to reach for his sword, but suddenly, a sword was pushed into his hand, inches away from the hilt.
"AHHHHHH!" he screamed in agony as valerian steel cut through his skin and bones and impaled his hand on the ground, making his eyes water in pain and rage as he glared at the brown-haired bastard.
"I think I told you to kneel," the bastard spoke as he looked him in the eye.
"DAMN YOU! DAMN YOU!" he cursed, and the boy's eyes narrowed as he reached for his blade.
"Then so be it...." and as he plucked it off the ground, sending another rush of agony through him.
"Wait stop...." and just as the boy raised the sword, Jeyne Arryn's voice cut in from behind as she stepped forward.
"Do it! I don't need your pity!" he shouted, as his hand throbbed in pain, yet the brown-haired girl stepped forward and looked down at him.
"It is not pity, but I will not have my name tainted as a kinslayer," she said, and he scoffed.
"I was right. You are weak. You do not deserve to rule over these lands," he taunted and saw her fists ball up, yet she continued.
"Take him to the sky cells," and he scoffed as the guards came around and took him by teh arms.
"I, Jeyne Arryn, as the ruler of Vale and the Eyrie, remove Arnold Arryn and his line as my heirs. None from his blood shall ever rule over Vale," she decreed, and he grew bitter.
"You cannot do that! You have no right!"
"I have every right!" she spoke with force as she looked him in the eye.
And then, he was taken away, to the Black cells,
The Lady of the Vale would then turn towards the young boy who had just saved her life and her Lordship. The young grandson of the previous reagent had been living in Vale as a page to the late Lord Yorbert Royce.
"Kneel," she would say strongly and the young Royce would kneel on one foot, caked in blood from head to toe, as the Maiden of the Vale would take lamentation from his hands and tip his shoulder with the flat of the blade.
"In the name of the father...." and so she would tap his shoulders Seven times, in the name of the Seven worshipped by herself.
"Rise Ser Aegon Targaryen, a Knight of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Vale."
Though another name would prop up for the young Prince.
The Bronze Prince.
The Bloody Prince.
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