Chapter XXXIII: Royal Coronation
1 BC
Dragonstone
With all the Kingdoms now firmly submitted to the dragon's authority, Westeros was united for the first time in all of recorded history. Events like the Field of Fire and the Burning of Harrenhal had carved an innate fear of the dragons into the hearts and minds of men, and none would dare rebel so long as the dragons lived.
Arin thought otherwise; Human passion was one thing no one could truly control, and who was to say there would not be rebellion or any form of civil strife after Aegon the Conqueror passed?
Aegon surely knew he could not truly enforce his authority beyond the Crownlands, and in the Westerlands, the Reynes were elevated thanks to Reynard's treachery, an eternal blemish upon the honour of the surviving Lannisters and their relatives, who even now were scheming to retake their rightful throne from the usurpers.
And because the Valyrian civilisation only encompassed the Crownlands, the kingdoms of Westeros were more of an uneasy Confederation of Kingdoms, ready to splinter without strong institutions holding it together.
All this, Arin thought of unceasingly as he stared outside the window of his room in the guest quarters of Dragonstone, counted as one of countless invitees to attend the official coronation of Aegon as King of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. Such a ceremony was still a month away, but he and Huang Xue came here to discuss things with Aegon regarding matters of political reform (at Arin's request).
The rest of Arin's inner council remained in Dorne to ensure the smooth transition of power, leaving only Arin and Huang Xue as free enough to travel afar.
"So, this is Dragonstone. Quite quaint and imposing for a fortress."
Huang Xue took his place beside Arin, leaning over the window sill and resting his hands there as he joined his Lord in overlooking the bustling fortress-complex, the gentle sea breeze caressing their cheeks and seagulls flying and cawing overhead.
"The Valyrians always love imposing and grandiose architecture - reinforces their sense of superiority," Arin stated, "Here's no different, especially among the locals."
"I suppose," Huang Xue nodded, "So, are you just going to let things take their course, now that we have what we achieved?"
"More or less, though I will be making some suggestions to Aegon," Arin stated, "Nominal political changes."
"And you believe them important?" Huang Xue asked.
"Important enough that I want an excuse to start making crucial reforms in Dorne," Arin shrugged, his expression a mixture of calm composure and grim uncertainty, "That's one reason why I contributed so hard to wrest Dorne from Martell hands."
"I see," Huang Xue nodded, "When do you believe will be the right time for our ultimate goal?"
"Give or take, maybe two to three decades," Arin concluded, "And when that happens, the flaws of the Targaryen conquest will be exposed for all. We have to be ready by then."
"And here I thought you might change your mind, move to help the Targaryens instead of working behind their backs," Huang Xue commented with a knowing smirk, "Though we have already done quite a lot behind their backs."
"And with all the leeway and approval I have, we'll be doing a hundredfold of such antics," Arin laughed slightly, "Mother Rhoyne blesses me with all the fortune of the world."
Huang Xue snorted at that.
"No, no one blesses anyone with the fortune of the world," Arin corrected himself, "Or if they do, we're also cursed with all the world's misfortunes to balance it out."
"Please, if you are any indication, My Lord, you're willing to risk suffering all the world's misfortune to see your dreams become reality," Huang Xue pointed out before musing, "I almost wonder if I am working my way to an early grave."
"And if you are any indication, Shuren, you are," Arin winked at his mischievously, "Since when have you ever been bored of the work I've thrown your way."
Huang Xue simply smiled back wordlessly.
"When historians study your achievements and methods, there are those who might believe you acted on pure instinct and inertia," He mentioned off-handedly, "Yet it is easy for any Westerosi noble to forget that preparation is key before a campaign. Even Aegon himself spent years preparing for his conquest before he initiated it in earnest.
"As Machiavelli said: 'All courses of action are risky, so prudence is not in avoiding danger - which is impossible - but calculating risk and acting decisively. Make mistakes of ambition and not mistakes of sloth. Develop the strength to do bold things, not the strength to suffer,'" Arin said in response.
"In other words, especially because we cannot predict what happens in the future, we must prepare here and now so that the damage is mitigated," Huang Xue nodded in agreement, "I must say, this Niccolo Machiavelli's words perfectly suit these times."
"His home of Italy was divided between warring princedoms constantly bickering and scheming against each other," Arin said, "Not unlike the warring Kingdoms of Westeros."
"And the feuding City-States of Essos," Huang Xue nodded.
They heard knocking on the door to their quarters, and a guard informed them, "Milords, Lord Aegon will see you both now."
"Let's get going," Arin beckoned.
IIOII
Aegon greeted Arin with a smile, shaking his hand as if he were a long-time friend and trustworthy ally.
"A pleasure to see you here, Lord Arin," Aegon greeted, "I heard you wished to discuss matters of governance for my kingdom?"
"Yes, Lord Aegon," Arin nodded, "With me is Huang Xue, styled Shuren. My second-in-command."
"Lord Aegon," Huang Xue greeted with a bow, clasping his hands in front of his person.
"So, what do you think of Dragonstone?" Asked Aegon, "A fine fortress, is it not?"
"Impenetrable by any but the most dedicated of attacks, and even then any victory over this fortress would be a pyrrhic one," Arin nodded, "Not to mention victory is close to impossible unless the enemy had powerful magic or dragons of their own."
"A very blunt assessment, but one I approve of," Visenya nodded gruffly.
"I thought you would call it out as mere flattery, dear sister," Rhaenys smirked.
"Not from Lord Arin, especially with his detailed explanation," Visenya answered, "In any case, you wished to discuss matters of governance for our new kingdom?"
"Yes, I do," Arin affirmed, "Shall we discuss this somewhere more private?"
"Of course, follow me," Aegon beckoned.
They went into a private meeting room reserved for them only, and it was here that Aegon beckoned Arin and Huang Xue to take a seat at the table.
"Before we continue, might I offer you both bread and salt?" Asked Aegon.
"Of course, My Lord," Arin nodded.
Servants brought forth platters of bread and salt, and Arin and Huang Xue broke off pieces and dipped them in salt before eating them. Arin mentally noted how crisp and pure the sea salt was, and how fresh and soft the bread was.
"Now then, would either of you like further refreshments? Some water or tea, perhaps?" Asked Aegon, "Or snacks to fill your stomach?"
"Just water, thank you," Arin answered.
After beckoning a servant to fetch some drink for their guests, Aegon's expression then turned more serious with a tinge of casual interest.
"So, Lord Arin. Might I ask exactly what sort of 'suggestions' you wish to make?" Questioned Aegon, his eyes fully fixed on Arin.
"The kind that is necessary to ensure Dorne's stability and peace in light of my successful rebellion," Arin answered confidently, "And to ensure some idiots don't try anything silly."
"Oh? I thought you already dealt with those silly fools, Lord Arin," Visenya pointed out.
"The current generation, which is already dead," Arin replied, "But what about the next generation, or the generation afterwards? As you know, I'm a rather paranoid person, Your Lordship."
Aegon snorted in amusement, "Since when has any sensible Lord never been paranoid?"
"Which is why I want to implement some radical changes to the political system in Dorne," Arin finished.
Aegon and his sister-wives raised an eyebrow in genuine curiosity, and Aegon leaned forward ever so slightly.
"Proceed to explain," He beckoned.
"My proposal is simple: I wish for permission to test out a new noble ranking system in Dorne [1]," Arin answered.
At this, the Targaryens shared confusion at Arin's words.
"Elaborate for us," Aegon said.
Arin nodded at Aegon, "As you know, Dorne is divided between three ethnic groups, and I only hold the loyalty of the Greenblood Dornish; the Desert Dornish are indifferent for the most part, but the Red Mountain Dornish do not hold high sentiments of me."
"As if the opinions of mountain raiders are of any concern to you, Lord Arin," Visenya commented.
"They are not," Arin agreed, "However, my spies do tell me that there remain quite a few Red Mountain Dornish who believe me the source of their misfortune."
"What?" Rhaenys questioned with incredulity.
"There are countless varied rumours among the remaining nobles, Lady Rhaenys," Huang Xue put forth, "That Lord Arin conspired with the Reach to have them invade and cause grievous harm as to stop their raiding ways, then he would move in and claim the glory of being a liberator; that he consorted with demons of the Seven Hells to bless his army with unholy strength."
Rhaenys stared at Huang Xue as if the nobles had lost half their heads, whereas Visenya rolled her eyes.
"I personally believe those imbeciles are just finding an inordinate number of half-witted ways to vent out their anger, or masking their wounded pride at being so easily conquered by the Reachmen," Visenya remarked dryly, "Oh, how their fathers and brothers in Heaven weep at their stupidity."
"I would not say that, Lady Visenya," Huang Xue pointed out, "In fact, a few of the surviving Red Mountain and Desert noble houses, in spite of us revoking their privileges, are thankful to His Lordship Arin for driving back the Reachmen where their own liege lords failed. That sentiment is also shared by many of the local smallfolk who lost so much to the invaders - family and property."
"At least they aren't wholly ungrateful," Visenya nodded, still maintaining an air of disdain.
"Getting back to topic, we have a list of titles we are ready to implement, but I also wish to ask for permission to change my title however I wish," Arin answered, "I have both personal and political reasons for doing this."
"Oh? Is the title of Lord Paramount not enough for you, Lord Arin?" Questioned Aegon.
"It is… more than enough, Lord Aegon," Arin quickly reassured him, "I mean no offence but in my circumstance, I simply believe that a change to a new title of my design would be better suited inside the ranking method I wish to implement. It would be, in practice, the same as Lord Paramount, merely… worded differently, so to speak."
"At least you are not keeping the title of Prince," Aegon smiled.
"It's not for me, only for a son of the Royal Family [2]," Arin added.
"No one can deny that," Rhaenys nodded, "Here I thought you would ask for more."
"I already have everything I need for the next decade, Lady Rhaenys," Arin answered, "At times, it is best to not try and want more when one has earned as much as I have."
"Yet another reason why you are such a capable and trustworthy vassal of ours," Aegon smiled, "Perhaps if we ever initiate an invasion of Essos, you could helm our armies as our general?"
"I appreciate the honour, but there are stronger and more talented generals than me out there," Arin answered, "That, and I fear that if I always steal the limelight, there would be countless enemies who would wish to see me brought down and all my hard work undone. I already see enough nobles jealous of my achievements."
"His Lordship Arin speaks truly," Huang Xue added, pursing his lips.
Aegon sighed in understanding, "I suppose no one likes an overachieving errand boy, no matter the benefits he brings. Very well, I understand and hereby grant you my permission. Do whatever you believe will help ensure a pacified and loyal Dorne for our New Valyria."
"As you command, Your Lordship," Arin and Huang Xue bowed.
Discreetly, they shared knowing glances of triumph, having achieved their objective in this meeting.
Long before their visit to Dragonstone, they had already laid down the groundwork for implementing the new political ranking, having spent countless weeks making preparations with the rest of House Rada's well-oiled bureaucracy. As for Dorne's new proposed hierarchy, the ranks were as followed in descending order:
- Grand Duke / Grand Duchess
- Duke / Duchess
- Count / Countess
- Viscount / Viscountess
- Baron / Baroness
- Lord / Lady
- Knight (Unlanded)
With Arin having little else on his agenda save waiting for the coronation, Aegon would proceed to ask Arin more questions and suggestions on his opinions in his government of Westeros, his decisions regarding the restive regions of Qelbria [3] and Ajonia [4], and on Aegon's shifting of court to the mainland in the realm of Paletillia [5] and so on.
In the end, Arin merely told him to continue what he was already doing.
Now, only the Coronation remained.
IIOII
With time to kill before the Coronation's official date, Arin and Huang Xue would take the time to acquaint themselves better with Aegon's inner circle and many of his direct vassals. And where better to do this than through noble gatherings, be it private meetings in gardens sipping tea or at banquets with tables groaning under the weight of the dishes?
Many of the Valyrian lords themselves held varied opinions regarding the Black Fox of Dorne; some believed he was merely lucky, blessed by the Fourteen for some unknown reason they could not comprehend; some believed he was deserving of his position, though perhaps a little too successful for their liking; some could hardly care less about some Desert rat that climbed his way to the top, though they swallowed their pride at knowing he was the Targaryens' favoured errand boy.
On this particular day, after a hearty banquet where rich, hearty and spicy Valyrian food was served to the guests, leaving many guests with a full belly until the next morning, more of Arin's inner circle were present in the banquet hall of Dragonstone, making conversation with the nobles present in a bid to form connections and learn of who to make friends with, who to be wary of, and so on.
One particular man eyed Arin with a maelstrom of emotions: Suspicion, bewilderment, unease and certainty.
"Is there something you dislike about him, my Lord husband?"
Orys turned to face Argella Durrandon, now Argella Baratheon, who stared with studious disinterest at the other banquet attendees feasting and making merry without a care in the world. Due to her cruel betrayal at the hands of her own vassals, one could be forgiven for assuming Argella's marriage to Orys was a cold and loveless one.
"Truthfully, more than a few," Orys answered, slowly sipping a cup of wine, "And many more things to like about him."
"I suppose he is your brother's favourite errand boy for a reason," Aegella mouthed noncommittally.
Orys sighed, "I trust my brother's judgement, I just cannot find it in myself to truly trust Arin Rada."
"Oh? Did he not win you Dorne without a single Targaryen man killed?" Asked Argella, "Rather did he not attain a pyrrhic victory against the Reachmen?"
"It's what he did right that makes me want to suspect him, Argella," Orys pointed out, "Think about it this way: Would you not be suspicious of one man who rapidly rose from obscurity to becoming Lord Paramount of his homeland, a man as paranoid and cruel to his internal political enemies as he? This is a man who is not only possessed of great talent and ambition, but one who has a fundamentally different way of thinking from all others of his station."
Though Argella could hardly care less about the conquerors, she could not find it in herself to deny the truth of Orys's words; if Arin was able to inflict such heavy casualties on the 80,000 strong Reachmen army, what hope did the Stormlands have with its measly 10,000 strong army?
She despised the feeling of dread that bloomed in her gut, forcing herself to quash it down under her ruthless temperament. And the traitors who sold her out feared the Targaryen menace? They should add their erstwhile neighbour to the list of prominent and dangerous people to be wary of.
"Lord Orys, Lady Argella."
Orys sighed and looked at Arin who boldly approached them with a disarming smile, Huang Xue. Upon looking into his eyes, Argella shivered despite the warmth of the banquet hall, swallowing her saliva in one huge lump.
"Lord Arin," Orys greeted back, "I see you've made yourself comfortable in Dragonstone."
"It is surprisingly hospitable despite its origins as a military fortress," Arin nodded, "And it is good to meet you, Lady Argella. With me is Huang Xue, styled Shuren, my right-hand man."
"Lord and Lady Baratheon," Huang Xue bowed with hands clasped in front.
"The pleasure is mine, Lord Arin, Lord Huang Xue," Argella greeted, forcing herself to remain calm, "Not a day goes by that the nobles of Storm's End do not talk about your achievements."
"I've had capable men and women help me come this far," Arin smiled, "Might I ask how things are in the Stormlands?"
"A little rowdy, with the recent transition in power," Argella admitted, fighting to keep the bitterness from her voice, "The nobles are otherwise compliant now, and are ready to follow the commands of my lord husband."
As if understanding Argella's circumstances, Arin nodded with a neutral expression of respect and ceased the inquiry there.
"I will say though, I am impressed with how swiftly you ended the threat of the raiders from the Red Mountains," Argella commented, "Many call you overly cruel, but I suppose without someone like you at the helm, those monsters would have continued to inflict cruelty unending."
"Us nobles who take the role as generals must sometimes take the good with the bad, Lady Argella," Huang Xue added, "It is simply life."
"Yes, I suppose it is," Argella nodded.
Sourly she may feel over her untimely dethronement before her reinstatement as Lady Paramount, at least there was no worry of external threats from the south, and it would have to suffice.
To the side, the Tian Feng Huang and the Qorgyles met with two vassals of Aegon: Crispian Celtigar and Triston Massey.
"So you are prominent merchants in Dorne?" Asked Triston, adopting a strangely casual yet alien smile of interest, "You don't feel like merchants to me."
"Do we not?" Asked Gongmak Phoq, "What makes you say that?"
"I am a rather emotional man, and yet I tend to have very sharp instincts, so others say," Triston shrugged, his smile tinged with a hint of psychoticism, "Makes me sensitive to all manner of whispers; out in the open, hidden in the shadows, I see and hear all. And right now, I hear whispers of your darker deeds."
"We barely met and already you believe lies and half-truths about us," Gongmak Phoq frowned, though his lips curled into a smirk, "What sort of rumours fly about us?"
"Regarding you and Maryse?" Said Triston, "That anyone and everyone who dares oppose your liege lord is never seen or heard from ever again."
Gongmak Phoq simply shrugged and said nothing, while Maryse merely smiled back at Triston.
"Ah, but Lady Maryse," Triston said, "I cannot help but notice a rather distinguishable smell about you; the kind both prey and predator alike flee from."
"Pray your keen listening does not fill your head with lies and falsities," Maryse continued to smile at Triston, who remained firmly footed where he stood, though his eye twitched slightly.
The Qorgyles did not like Triston Massey one bit, firmly maintaining their distance from him and staying close to Maryse. They did, however, maintain their distance from Gongmak Phoq as well, making no effort to hide their fear of him.
Yet just as Triston made to comment on this, a silver-haired man came between them.
"Triston, I think that is enough from you," He interjected firmly, flashing him a look of firm disapproval, "Our allies have far better things to do than to listen to you prattle."
"But of course, Crispian," Triston smiled as he made himself scarce.
"My apologies for my fellow lord's behaviour," Crispian said, "He serves as House Targaryen's spymaster."
"No, he was no trouble," Gongmak Phoq smiled and waved off, "May I ask about your identity, by the way?"
"Of course, I am Crispian Celtigar, and I served as Lord Aegon's Quartermaster during his campaign of conquest," Crispian introduced himself with a friendly smile.
"I am Gongmak Phoq, Chairman of the Tian Feng Huang - a merchant company," Phoq said, "With me are Lady Maryse and Lord Lewyn, Lady Druselka and Lady Elia, of House Qorgyle."
"House Qorgyle…" Crispian muttered, before shaking his head and saying, "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
"The pleasure is ours," Lewyn shook Crispian's hand, feeling more at ease with him than Triston.
"If you do not mind me asking Lord Lewyn, how fares House Qorgyle these days?" Asked Crispian.
"We are doing better than before, Lord Crispian," Lewyn answered, "Lord Arin has generously donated supplies for the reconstruction of our lands and for the construction of new infrastructural projects."
"What kind of projects, might I ask?" Said Crispian.
"Aqueducts, roads, wells and canals," Answered Lewyn, "Along with schools for young children and adults - primarily smallfolk."
"Schools for smallfolk? Seeking to emulate Valyria?" Questioned Crispian.
"In a way, yes," Lewyn nodded, "Quite a lot of Valyria's ways are beneficial to the people if only we put in the time and effort. It is a shame other nobles do not see it that way."
"Yes, it is a great shame," Crispian nodded sadly, "And yet that is just the reality of things; some things cannot be changed, especially overnight."
If there is one thing to change, it is the very way of things that prevail in Westeros, and only by eliminating those who perpetrate this stagnation will things change.
Lewyn did not voice such thoughts despite wishing to, as Maryse gave him a knowing look and a shake of the head.
Crispian then asked Elia, "Lady Elia, could I ask if your subjects harbour any form of resentment for House Rada's annexation of their lands after House Martell's downfall?"
"No, they do not," Elia answered confidently, "In fact, they could not be more grateful for Lord Arin's magnificent victory against the Reach and for his generosity in rebuilding our home."
"Surely there are a few dissidents here and there who resent Lord Arin instead?" Crispian pressed on, his voice soft and polite.
"If there are, they are no nobles - all dissenters died during the Reach invasion," Elia answered, "And with the generosity Arin displayed to them, the smallfolk sing his praises in the fields and in every town and village."
"Lord Arin's the greatest person we've ever met," Druselka puffed her chest in pride, "Far better than any Lord we have ever met before."
At this Crispian nodded in silence, before saying, "I can see your respect for him, and I admire that. Alas, I am afraid that is all the time we have for conversation for now. Perhaps another day we may chat again?"
"As many times as you want, Lord Crispian," Druselka said smilingly.
As he left, however, Crispian felt a frown adorn his face, a feeling of suspicion in his gut.
IIOII
1 AC
Dragonstone
It was the turn of the new year, and all at the courtyard of Dragonstone were gathered to witness the coronation of Aegon Targaryen as ruler of all Westeros. For some, particularly the conquered, it was a mark of shame and misfortune, and they bore it all behind polite masks of friendliness and deference. For others, especially the Targaryen men, it was a day of triumph and jubilation.
The men of Dorne, on the other hand, were more or less neutral if albeit warm to the Targaryen coronation, and Arin and his council smiled as they clapped for the appearance of Aegon as he took centre stage.
All around the castle courtyard, there were throngs of smallfolk and nobles beholding the ceremony, happy faces all around and safely shepherded by men in black dragon armour. Mighty statues of dragons and gargoyles lined the paved paths like an army of statues, standing in eternal vigil over their lord and master as the sun shone brightly overhead amidst clear skies.
In front of one of the Valyrian priests, Aegon knelt as the Pasgryast [6] invoked the blessings of the Fourteen and anointed him, pouring olive oil upon his head and cleaning it with a cloth. Once he finished, he bowed and gave way to Visenya and Rhaenys who approached, the latter bearing a silver circlet inlaid with square-shaped rubies upon a crimson velvet cushion.
Taking the crown in hand, Visenya raised it high towards the sky, the sun's rays bathing it in its lustre and making it shine like diamonds.
"In the name of the Fourteen, of our ancestors and glorious Valyria of old, I crown thee King Aegon Targaryen of Westeros, First of His Name, of the Valyrīhi, the Andhālīhi, the Endinīhi and the Rhoynīhy [7]!" Visenya declared in a loud voice ringing like thunder, "May thine reign be blessed, and the reign of thine descendants now and forevermore! May all who dare harbour ill-will for our New Valyria be struck down, and may the people prosper under your rule!"
With that declaration, Visenya placed the crown upon Aegon's head, and when he rose and faced the people he stood tall and true as a warrior-king, and all the audience clapped for their king.
Then Aegon raised a hand, and eventually the audience went silent.
"Our fair home has seen countless centuries of bloodshed," Aegon began, "Much was lost in that time, and countless lives lost in pointless wars. Now, these days shall be blessed with peace."
The nobles did not see it the same way, but for the smallfolk it was music to their ears.
"Now, I must make a few declarations for our newborn nation," Aegon continued, "Orys Baratheon, step forward!"
Orys Baratheon stood before his half-brother, his newlywed wife Argella watching him with emotional detachment.
"For your contributions to conquering and annexing the Stormlands and to leading our armies against the rebel warlords of Westeros, I name you Lord Paramount of Jelmazmia [8] and my Hand!" Aegon declared, "From now on, as second-in-command of the Seven Kingdoms, you shall handle all domestic and foreign affairs in my name, be they bureaucratic or military! Any who dare contest your authority contests mine!"
"Thank you, Your Grace!" Orys bowed, before retreating to his position.
A few nobles scoffed, believing him extraordinarily lucky; he only became Lord Paramount due to killing the nobles and other retainers who betrayed Argella to him, though they grudgingly acknowledged that he was a mighty warrior, able to fell Argillac the Arrogant in single combat and lead his men with great charisma befitting a general.
"Arin Rada, step forward!"
All eyes turned to the unlikely hero among the Dornishmen, the rebel turned liberator turned Master of Dorne, who confidently strode towards the Emperor with purpose. Once he reached arm's distance, he curtseyed and stood tall and proud before him.
Though his entourage was small, all stood with the imposing, godlike dignity of accomplished generals who each won a hundred battles, and this small group stood out like a sore thumb among thousands of men and women capable of simply existing.
"Arin Rada, you achieved what mortal men thought impossible: You upended centuries of political stagnation in Dorne and ended horrendous villains that Nymeria the Uniter herself did not, and ushered in a new era of innovation and political growth for Dorne," Aegon beamed brightly with every word, and some of the defeated nobles grew sickened at this sight, "You also ended the pirate menace of the Stepstones and provided safe shipping routes for all who pass through the Narrow Sea. For that, you are hereby named Grand Duke of Dornia [9], Warden of the Straits and Master of Laws, to contribute to the building of Westeros as a true beacon of civilization! May the Narrow Sea forevermore remain free of pirates under your watchful eye!"
Some nobles made a keening sound of disbelief, and for a handful their faces turned red with fury, and they excused themselves lest they embarrass themselves in outburst. Others nodded in grudging approval, appreciating the results of his actions or quietly accepting the inevitable graciousness of his rewards.
And yet many also looked askance at each other, wondering what a 'Grand Duke' was. They concluded that it must be some kind of new title the Targaryens had created purely for Lord Arin, as thanks for his aid in the Conquest. For the man to be granted the title of Grand Duke and not Lord Paramount? They could only conclude that Arin had tremendous influence to be allowed this special privilege.
"I graciously accept, Your Grace," Arin bowed deeply with a polite smile, before returning to his earlier position.
"Triston Massey, step forward!"
House Massey was a small and obscure house like countless minor noble houses in Westeros, ruling over a small stone castle and ramshackle villages famed only for fishing, thatching and small-scale farming. Only when House Targaryen made itself known that it was finally able to improve its situation, exploiting the rich trade routes to Essos to fatten their coffers.
The castle was renovated and expanded, villages turned into towns and markets bringing fresh produce to every villager in its lands. Its feudal levies also received proper equipment and training, and its neighbours could no longer bully House Massey as they used to.
The name of Triston Massey was one that rang beautifully for the Targaryen people, the lithe man slithering like a snake across the paved path before falling to a knee in front of Aegon. Yet aside from the Rizmoni, the Paletilans and Jelmari, the rest who saw his eyes shivered as if chilled, and they made a mental note to studiously ignore him whenever possible.
"Lord of Dōronlil (Stonedance), for your contributions to undermining the men of Harren Hoare in our liberation of Qelbar, and in instigating the internal revolt that led to our conquest of Lopon, I hereby name you Master of Whisperers! May your reach be far and wide, and may all who strike from the shadows be struck down by you!"
"I graciously thank you, Your Grace!" Triston said, his voice a lilting mezzo-soprano.
"Aethan Velaryon, step forward!"
Aethan Velaryon was a grizzled man, his skin tanned from years under the hot sun yet retaining the characteristic Valyrian pale colour. Mighty and dignified, he was every bit his father Daemon's progeny, his hand resting comfortably on the longsword by his hip.
"Both you and your father served as loyal Lords of Elēnbar (Driftmark) with pride and distinction, and helped repulse the Royal Vale fleet off the coast of Gulltown. Though sadly Daemon is no longer with us, he is surely proud of you," Aegon smiled, his joyous expression marred by a tinge of sorrow, "For your achievements, I name you the Master of Ships. May the Royal Fleets be kings of the sea under your wise management."
"I humbly accept, Your Grace," Aethan bowed, returning Aegon's smile.
"Crispian Celtigar, step forward!"
House Celtigar was descended from the blood of old Valyria, but had long ago founded its dominion on Claw Isle and converted to the Faith of the Seven before House Targaryen's coming to Dragonstone during the Century of Blood. When the Targaryens first arrived, they were quick to demand the submission of the old house who were powerless before their might. Since then, they prospered from the security and prosperity House Targaryen brought to the isle, and its inhabitants believed that submission and conversion to the Fourteen was a small price to pay.
Crispian Celtigar was a devout follower of the Fourteen, a thin and ordinary-looking man that did not stand out too much as compared to others like Orys Baratheon and Triston Massey. Yet without the immensely talented bureaucrats that House Celtigar produced, their logistical capabilities during the Conquest would have been crippled, and it was often remarked that Aemidon was the golden generation of his house.
"Crispian Celtigar, as Lord of Pogryājon (Claw Isle) you contributed immensely to the conquest as quartermaster, and as such I hereby name you Master of Coin! May the Royal Treasury be bursting with coin always!"
"Thank you, Your Grace!" Aemidon knelt, accepting his seal with pride.
"Ser Quenton Qoherys, step forward!"
Quenton Qoherys was an old, grizzled veteran, having seen many years and was close to his fourth decade. Confident and arrogant, he smoothly fell to a knee before Aegon with a grace and elegance that put many green nobles to shame.
"Quenton Qoherys, you have served faithfully as master-at-arms of Dragonstone, and it was thanks to your strict instruction that our troops can proudly boast of superior quality and tactics in comparison to the local levies, and you have always valiantly led the vanguard, mace and shield in hand. For your contributions in our war with Harren Hoare and countless other petty kings and warlords, I hereby grant you the fiefdom of Bartuzys [10] and elevate your house to Lordly status!"
"Your Grace is too kind," Quenton rasped, accepting his new seal of office.
"Edmund Gardener, step forward!"
The Reachmen were a defeated party, but they were widely considered to have gotten off lucky in comparison to the Westerlanders. Edmund himself lay prostrate before Aegon, a sign of submission that was as much a formality as a fact of life.
"Edmund Gardener, I name you Lord Paramount of Tegonia [11] and Warden of the South, and task you with repairing your home and putting to use your homeland's abundant food supplies for the arduous task of rebuilding our homeland," Aegon said to Edmund, his face both neutral and detached, "And given how terribly your land suffered in this campaign, I exempt your province from taxes for the next five years. Should you need more time, we shall negotiate at a later date."
"I graciously accept my appointment and thank you for your generosity, Your Grace," Edmund bowed deeply.
"Next, Sharra Arryn! Step forward!"
Sharra Arryn stepped forward and prostrated before him.
"I name you Lady Paramount and Regent of Blenia [12] until your son Jonnel comes of age, and bestow upon your household the title of Warden of the East," Aegon said to Sharra, "May your house continue to rule as justly and impartially as your ancestors have for thousands of years, and protect the land from the depravations of the Mountain Clansmen."
"I shall strive to fulfil my duties, Your Grace," Sharra said, kissing Aegon's ring.
"Next, Casten Reyne! Step forward!"
The poor boy squirmed and flinched like a little worm, feeling so out-of-place in such a public gathering with so many eyes on him that he even tripped over himself, fumbling to regain his balance before thankfully falling prostrate before Aegon without further embarrassment. Both Aegon and his sister-wives fought to keep smirks of amusement from their mouths.
"Casten Reyne, I name you Lord Paramount of Rudiria [13] and Warden of the West. I task you with ensuring due tithes are paid monthly from Casterly Rock's mines to fill House Targaryen's coffers, both as remuneration for the lives lost in this war and to fund the reconstruction of Westeros."
"I humbly accept, Your Grace," Casten bowed, awkwardly kissing Aegon's ring.
"Vickon Greyjoy, step forward!"
There was no cheering, no gazes of sympathy for this Ironborn Lord, just stares of contempt and derision. He was a plain, unassuming man, as useless and barbaric as his ancestors and the current generation of Ironborn.
"Vickon Greyjoy," Aegon began, his voice devoid of emotion, "I hereby name you Lord Paramount of Ajonia, and task you with the compliance of the Iron Islands. Make sure my trust is not misplaced."
Vickon was equally devoid of emotion as he fell to a knee.
"As Your Grace commands."
It was a hollow and empty gesture, for everyone knew the Ironborn would never truly remain compliant so long as they maintained adherence to the Old Ways.
And now, there was one more to go.
"Torrhen Stark, step forward!"
The last of the conquered peoples, the people of a land so desolate and underdeveloped it was a joke in comparison to the other kingdoms of Westeros. Torrhen Stark slowly knelt before Aegon Targaryen, and his prostration was far lower than all others.
"Torrhen Stark, you are named Lord Paramount of Sonaria [14] and Warden of the North, and tasked with keeping the peace as you always have."
"I humbly accept, Your Grace," Torrhen Stark said, kissing Aegon's ring.
The Northmen were especially bitter at this declaration; as if it was not enough to force King Torrhen to kneel in shame and supplication, now their home was to be renamed by those who forced its submission without shedding a drop of blood?
Yet as much as they despised it, their king's - no, their Lord Paramount's word - was law, and they dared not disobey him lest they be branded traitors and dealt with accordingly.
"Give thanks to this day, men and women of Westeros!" Aegon declared, his fist raised in triumph, "This day, Westeros is reborn!"
And all let out a raucous cheer, flower petals raining upon the courtyard.
[1] A Lord Paramount being allowed to implement his own political ranking system by his liege was completely unheard of in all of history, and another reason for nobles to fear the goodwill House Rada had with House Targaryen.
[2] Arin's rejection of the title of Prince earned him more goodwill among the Targaryens and their direct vassals, taking it as a certainty of his unwillingness to rebel.
[3] Qelbria - The High Valyrian name for the Riverlands. Derived from Qelbartegun (River-land).
[4] Ajonia - The High Valyrian name for the Iron Islands, which means Land of Islands.
[5] Paletillia - The High Valyrian name for the Crownlands. Derived from Paletillategun (Crown-land).
[6] Pasgryast - The title of Chief High Priest / Priestess of the Valyrian Pantheon, the most powerful position in all the Valyrian religious offices. Only he or she is allowed to officiate coronation ceremonies and blessings of the Targaryen Lords and Ladies and, eventually, Emperors and Empresses of House Targaryen. Derived from the Roman title Pontifex Maximus.
[7] High Valyrian names for the Valyrians, Andals, First Men and Rhoynar respectively.
[8] Jelmazmia - The High Valyrian name for the Stormlands. Derived from Jelmazmartegun (Storm-land).
[9] Dornia - The High Valyrian name for Dorne.
[10] Bartuzys - Translates as Burnt Skull, the new High Valyrian name of Harrenhal, a symbolic gesture paying respect to House Qoherys's coat of arms and the burning of House Hoare. Otherwise known as Charskull Keep among the Westerosi.
[11] Tegonia - The High Valyrian name for the Reach.
[12] Blenia - The High Valyrian name for the Vale. Translates as Land of Mountains.
[13] Rudiria - The High Valyrian name for the Westerlands. Translates as Land of Mineshafts.
[14] Sonaria - The High Valyrian name for the North. Translates as Land of Snow.