Daeron
He took a deep breath, taking in the sight of his camp.
Thousands upon thousands have gathered, and this is just the Dornish host? More will come, the Reach, Stormlands, Riverlands, Iron Islands, the Vale, and the North, but most of all is the seat of his families power... The Crownlands, and the Iron Throne.
He heard a growl and smirked, turning to the side and placing a hand on Daegon. No, you and your siblings are my power, and my heart is my weakness. Of course, he won't let himself feel from the heart, but from the mind, a mind which is needed for the Wars to come.
"Your Grace, the Lords, and Commanders have gathered, they await you," Barristan said as he rode up, sending a nod he hopped unto his horse and turned its spurs to head down the hill towards the camp.
"Who has all come to join me, anyone of note?" He asked his commander of the Kingsguard, Barristan gave a huff to think before telling him.
"Lord Wyl and two of his sons. Lord Yronwood, he has come too. The young Lord Edric Dayne from Starfall with his aunt Allyria. I remember seeing the sigils of Manwoody, Allyrion. Vaith, Uller and Qorygyle have also arrived with all their levies in tow." He understands why some Lords haven't shown up and stayed in their lands.
Plenty of Houses will remain to hold Dorne in the case that he loses his war.
"I assume House Dalt, Fowler, Toland, Gargalan, and Santagar will not be coming with us, they wish to remain home?" Barristan nodded, hearing him speak.
"We already have most of Dorne's soldiers, almost 19,000. That includes the host of four-thousand men of House Jordayne at the Tor where part of the fleet is harbored." He hummed with a smile, hearing some of the men bowing their heads and calling him their grace, he couldn't be more thankful of the men before him.
I guess it is time, no more looking back. He thought as he and Barristan reached the main pavilion where everyone is gathered.
He's never seen so many Lords in one place, they all rose from their seats and knelt their heads.
"Welcome, your Grace!" They all said and stayed standing, "Take a seat, Daeron." Barristan said and he took a deep breath before doing and only then did the others take their seats.
"Alright, let's begin."
Six hours later and the plans were made, debates were talked about and plans of attack and conquest were set in stone lest they cracked to shifts of the future.
"Our forces will split into four factions. Two go through the Boneway, and the other two go through the Prince's Pass." He started, taking the Martell symbol. "Lord Anders Yronwood, I give you command of half the Dornish host of 10,000 men and Lord Harmen Uller will command the other half and divide and conquer the Stormlands. Bring them to heel." He ended and both men and their heirs rose from their chairs.
"It will be done, your grace." He smiled and went onto the next plan of action.
"I will personally take charge and lead my Unsullied, R'hllor Warriors and Mercenaries into the Reach. They are our biggest adversaries at the moment, I mean to use my dragons for the first, and hopefully only time in this war." He knew some disagreed, especially Lords Vaith and Fowler.
He isn't afraid to use his children in this fight, for it is theirs as well. But cooler heads kept me from making every battlefield a scorched waste. He smiled, thanking some of his advisers for their blunt but truthful words.
"Meanwhile, Lord Trebor Jordayne and Commander Harry Strickland will go by sea towards King's Landing, to deal with the royal fleet and besiege the Lannisters directly while we deal with all their supporters." A dagger at their throat and a hammer battering their shield. "The Golden Company will split in this endeavor and become the fourth faction on land, I name Jon Connington to lead them and the war elephants, take control of the Kingsroad and the Lannister supply lines." He turned and sent a nod to Jon who looked on with pride as he stood up.
"It will be my honor, my King." He got up from his seat, as did the others who upon seeing him rise.
"I am honored to be your King. Your leader, in this endeavor, as we go into the storms of war." He said and with a wide smile, "There is one small matter to be discussed, however, before we all get one last night's rest before our march." He saw many give a confused face, some curious and a few uncaring but no matter. "Over my time, I have already assembled three for my Kingsguard, a fourth was chosen but, he is no longer in my service... So, I have thought about who should fill the other four positions." He added and paused for a moment, looking around the entire room before landing them on his choice, "... Lady Obara Sand, please stand."
At the end of the table sat Nymeria and Obara, the eldest sister got up with a slight confusion on her face.
"As we sparred in the training yard, spoken on the rare occasions about combat, I had already decided that you would be the fourth, to fill Ser Jorah position as Knight of my Kingsguard." He said and left out the part that she bested him four of six every time they trained together.
Obara Sand. She is loyal. Strong and with more honor than the entirety of her family combined. In fact, he was sure of his choice after their first match.
"Are you sure, your grace? I am no knight- " He nodded to her excuse but could see past that.
"Rakharo and Kovarro, the fiercest of my army when it was small, they are no knights but yet I've chosen them as my Kingsguard." He started while resting both hands on the two Dothraki warriors. "I am not just looking for knights, my Lady. I search for dependable men and women that can ensure the safety of my family when I have one at the end of this war." He added and saw shock wash over Obara's face, his words must have struck something within her, he'd like to think it hope of loyalty.
"Your grace, your- Your grace, I." Obara tried to say something, would have said nothing if not for the Lady Nymeria nudging her sister, proudness was her expression.
Obara hesitantly walked over and got to one, her spear standing up. She rose her head, smiling with pride. "Not since the day my father gave me this spear had I been so proud, I accept the position, your grace. I will honor my vows to protect you and your children from this day to my death." The room cheered and congratulated the Sand Snake on her position.
"Now, who will feast with me!" He cried out and many agreed.
Daario
Feasting plenty, a girl or two and he had well spent night, well, so far.
"I need to piss." He told his woman for the night and got up from his cot, throwing on a robe he ventured to the edges of the encampment.
Finally finding an unoccupied area, he took his snake out to leak it. A moment or so later he heard a voice from a small tent.
"So Daeron is heading for the Reach?" He smirked, remembering the stupidest decision he's ever made in all his time, and all for camaraderie.
"Of course, friend. It is us and, what, hundred-thousand men? Ah well, we have the dragons. We can take them." He said with no amount of confidence, but he's chosen his path and who knows, it might still lead to a castle of his own.
Jorah Mormont removed his helm, dressed in a suit of his companies garments, stepping from the shadows and into the light of a brazier, he sighed and sniffed the cool air, with no affection for the heat they'll be suffering in the morning as they march out of the Dornish Marches.
"I must thank you, for allowing me a remain, albeit hidden within the host." Nodding he took a deep breath, looking back to the encampment.
He's fond of the serious knight, untrustful, but fond all the same. It was that fondness that had two of his best track Jorah down, bringing him near but not close to his camp where he swore to keep him in their party of degenerates and nobles.
Whether Daeron believes it or not, Jorah the Andal was loyal, all the way through and especially when inside Volantis. He would never have conspired with Melaquo and the Lions, especially after what they did to Missandei. Yes, maybe the man was an agent before but who wouldn't want to return home after being exiled, and life is hard, especially for a man down on his fortune.
That is why he is here, why he let Jorah stay despite what Daeron has decreed.
"Well, I had to, truly." He said to Jorah and put a hand on his shoulder, "You have every right to be here as we do, the first warrior of King Daeron Targaryen. Now get some rest, friend, or take a woman. I feel it will be the last in some time." He added and Jorah chuckled but shook his head, refusing his offer.
"I already have a woman, and she is long gone from this world when a witch killed her." He had an inkling, that the old bear was referring to the sister that Daeron lost.
"Well, I hope we survive long enough to see ourselves old and rich. Good night, Jorah the Andal." He laughed and told his companion to get some rest, they'll need it.
King's Landing
Kevan was annoyed, annoyed and angry with all that's been going on.
Grand Maester has called him to a small gathering, something about the Dragon King and if it was so important that it involves waking him, then it must be urgent.
Things are in place, he's spoken to Olenna and Lord Tyrell, and Tarly's will be waiting for Daeron in the Reach. In the Stormlands, a few that answered the call will be led by Ronnet Connington will meet the Targaryen boy if he decides on going there to get to King's Landing.
But these dragons... They are trouble.
The Dornish were the only ones to repel the Targaryen invasion and Aegon's dragons, but now so can they.
When Dorne finally joined the Seven Kingdoms, they contributed the weapon that can kill them, the Scorpion. The blacksmiths and builders are making more, but three is all they have and has been sent and spread. One remaining in King's Landing, another in the Stormlands and one traveling to the Reach.
At worst, there is a chance if all these plans fail.
A letter, sent from Myrcella to the King. The letter begs that they surrender, that Daeron is willing to let them live in exile so long as they renounce any claim to the Iron Throne via conquest. If they lose all their battles, then that becomes an option for them in the case that these weapons fail or their armies fall in battle.
"Pycelle, I am here." He said as he stopped at the door to Pycelle's chamber, but there was no answer from within, has the man fallen asleep? With a sigh, he opened the door and went inside, the candles were out and he was thankful for the torch he brought.
But it revealed the scene before him.
Pycelle was in his sleeping robes, drenched in blood and clearly dead. He stopped and knelt by the dead Maester, trying to figure out why.
Then the door clicked shut, and he was startled to his feet.
"I would like to say he died painlessly, but that would be a dreadful lie." That voice, he remembers it.
"Varys, traitor. Why come here? Of all places." He was curious, why would someone with such a price on his head be here, and if Varys is here, then where is Tyrion?
"I hate playing dirty tricks such as an assassination, but you've been mending a bridge that I mean to be torn down." He didn't know what Varys meant until the eunuch rose a crossbow and shot him in the chest, then in the stomach. "You have proven a good Hand, my Lord, a pity you did not heed your grand-nieces request and surrender, but this will do." Why, why kill him and do this when they all knew that House Lannister won't win this war.
"Why?... " It is all he asks, all he wishes to know at this moment, he knows he isn't long for this world now.
"It is my hope that Cersei, in her madness will blame the Tyrells for this. It will break the fragile peace that you worked so hard for, oh, and don't hold hope for your business with the Iron Bank to bear fruit. I had the ship taken days after it left port." Varys put down the crossbow and folded his hand, "Take heart in this, my Lord, that you will not die alone."
He hadn't long left, he can feel it leaving him and he took that thought with gratitude and smiled.
"The Gods will favor us, in the end, eunuch... They will always favor... The lion!"
The Prince's Pass
Daeron took a heavy breath, taking in the great expanse before getting into the Dornish Marches.
"Glory awaits us, my King." His newest Kingsguard said to him, her spear held in her hand.
He sees it as more than glory, more than anything that is tangible or intangible. I see it...
"Destiny... I see destiny." He whispered with a growing smile, "It is my destiny to conquer these kingdoms as my ancestor has done, I will take them all... "
He looked behind him, looking at the thousands of men who have followed him from Slaver's Bay to Volantis. He unsheathed his sword, raising it high for all to see.
"Forward!" Hie cry echoed as thousands joined in, then the roar of his children.
This war begins.