A/N: This is the beginning of a new war arc, ladies and gentlemen! I apologise if I've been boring you all with the relentless worldbuilding and character development.
Thanks to Tertius and Ascalon on SB for beta-ing.
Chapter L: Old Dangers Rise
28 AC
Elaegelle Targaryen
Five years had passed since then, and Elaegelle was now celebrating her 18th birthday.
"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to Elaegelle, happy birthday to you!"
Arin's family and Elaegelle's parents, and all their friends gave a round of applause as Elaegelle blew out the birthday candles, and as the birthday girl she made her first slice of the chocolate cake, taking it before Garin took over and cut the cake for the rest of the partygoers.
Elaegelle proudly wore her crimson dress uniform, her boots polished to a mirror sheen and her beret placed on a hat rack, the rank of 2nd Lieutenant displayed on her shoulderpads.
"Congratulations for graduating, Elaegelle, I'm so proud of you," Visenya beamed brightly, hugging her dearest daughter.
"You look positively charming and dignified, I might add," Aegon smirked, "Your uniform suits you."
"This beats dresses any day," Elaegelle smiled back.
"Come now, you know that dress codes exist for a reason," Visenya pointed out.
"Not to mention quite a lot of ignoramuses would ignore you simply if your attire doesn't match their expectations," Rhaenys added with exasperation, "I mean, they can shove their chauvinism up their behinds, but still."
Elaegelle rolled her eyes; it was only in private that her parents could afford to be so casual with each other and unwind from the daily stresses of rulership.
Turning to Arin who took a bite of chocolate cake with a smile, Aegon said, "We must give you our thanks, Grand Duke; Elaegelle has shaped up to be a fine woman."
"I merely gave her guidance while she chose her path," Arin replied, "But you are welcome, Your Grace."
"Modest as always, I see," Said Aegon, "By the way, can I ask your opinion about a few things?"
"Of course, please follow me," Arin nodded.
As they went towards a quieter, more private corner of the dining hall, Arin then asked, "What is it you wish to talk to me about, Your Grace?"
"What do you honestly believe about Eckard Blodfeld and Oberyn Taegorad?" Aegon asked.
Aegon showed not an iota of concern or suspicion as most players did, regarding the border disputes in the Neck as a mere blip on the map and little else.
"In all honesty, I don't truly pay much attention to what happens up north, Your Grace," Arin admitted, "I'm not sure how I can help there."
"Maybe, but I was hoping you could lend me your insight," Aegon put forth, "You see, the last time that happened, you managed to seize control of several fiefs that allowed you to build up your power base for the eventual confrontation with House Martell. Who is to say the same will not happen in the Neck?"
"That is true," Arin nodded, "If I'm being honest, Eckard does not strike me as the kind to trust any of the old nobility in Sonaria; he speaks of House Stark and House Bolton with especial derision."
"Given that he was formerly a beggar before becoming a lord, I might see a reason why he despises them," Aegon suggested, "Do you believe he will be aiming to seize power from House Stark, achieve complete dominion over Sonaria?"
"It is entirely plausible," Arin answered, "And it's not just his attitude towards House Stark; there's his complete extermination of the old houses in Gosmerch; his blatant antagonism towards House Frey in a latest series of trade disputes. Then there are rumors that vast swathes of Gosmerch are being cultivated for agriculture or being cleared for roads, and ships throng his newly-built harbours offloading goods of all kinds. I also hear that his army's top-class compared to anything and everything the Sonarians can muster. If that's not a blatant move to seize power, I don't know what this is."
Aegon nodded to himself, satisfied with the answer, and then he asked, "How long until you think he'll act against House Stark?"
"At least five more years or so," Arin answered, "Conquering a region as large as the neck with only one fief to your name means you have to spend years bringing it under your control and filling the vacancies."
"Yes, I suppose," Said Aegon, "What about Elaegelle? Do you believe her ready for the world of the nobility?"
"Yes, I do," Arin answered resolutely.
"Truly? I don't mean to cast doubt, but Dornia's politics are radically different compared to the politics and social norms of Daro Vilinion," Aegon pointed out, a tinge of worry in his eyes.
"You protected her by sending her here to be fostered, Your Grace," Arin replied, "And she matured splendidly into a fine noblewoman. Have some faith in her."
Aegon nodded silently in response, though he still seemed slightly worried.
"There are still naysayers who question her right to be a member of House Targaryen, and her siblings refuse to entertain the thought of her claiming her place in our family," Said Aegon, "Well, most of her siblings."
Arin abstained from asking further on this point, and instead said, "How about this? We've had recent trade disputes with Tyrosh, Lys and Myr, and their ships went as far as to seize merchant convoys and hold the merchants and their crews hostage, demanding we release them for coin."
"Not a day goes by that I do not remember this insolence," Aegon muttered darkly, "In fact, I believe only war shall educate them of the futility of their insolence."
"And here is where I propose an idea," Said Arin, "Countless nobles in the Andal kingdoms are growing exceptionally restless and eager for battle, and they want the flimsiest excuse to bear arms. When war breaks out, have Elaegelle take command of some troops of her own and prove to everyone her worthiness as a princess of House Targaryen."
"You're suggesting she risk herself in battle?" Questioned Aegon.
"My daughter Azella experienced war when she was just ten-and-eight, and has since grown much from the harsh lessons she learned," Arin said, "I know this might not be what you want, but your Queenly wives also took to the skies and commanded armies, no?"
"Naturally," Aegon said proudly.
"Then naturally, Princess Elaegelle must also experience the harsh realities of war and politics," Arin reiterated, "It's crucial for her not only in terms of helping her self-esteem, but also in exposing her on how politics work, and the cost of war itself. She has to undergo these harsh and painful lessons so that the obviously easy-to-make mistakes are not made in the future. As the saying goes: 'Don't waste a good mistake, learn from it.'"
"A good mistake, you say?" Asked Aegon.
"Indeed, Your Grace," Said Arin, "And more importantly, by putting the nobles to the test, we can weaken those disloyal to the Iron Throne and make the rest more cautious about being overly eager for war."
"Yes, you're right," Aegon nodded slowly, "I remember the Westerlanders are still exceptionally cautious of the might of our dragons, even now. Poor Casten's doing remarkably well as a figurehead, though I cannot say the same of the cadet branches of House Lannister."
Arin shrugged, "Nobles being nobles. Anyway, there is one more suggestion I'd like to make, should you wish to implement my plan."
"That being?" Asked Aegon.
"You deliberately hold back the dragons, and let the ground troops and navies fight their wars on their own," Arin suggested, which perturbed Aegon greatly, "Let them suffer war, and only have the dragons intervene when absolutely necessary."
"You do realise we can easily just have our dragons swoop in and put a quick end to those meddlesome magisters?" Aegon pointed out.
"Then we would not have put the nobles to the test, would we? They would become cocky and arrogant, and then regard the great dragonlords as cleaners come to clean their mess for them," Arin countered, causing Aegon to narrow his eyes.
"You truly believe they would think that?" Asked Aegon, a hard edge in his voice.
"With all due respect, Your Grace, if I were in their position I would think the same," Arin held up his hands placatingly, "And unless they pay a heavy price for their victory or failure in battle, they will never learn just how valuable and almighty dragons truly are, and why House Targaryen does not exist for their benefit alone."
Aegon curled his lips and grimaced as he stared into the distance, calming himself down and contemplating Arin's words. Eventually he nodded with acceptance, and said to Arin, "As much as I hate to admit it, you are right."
"Ultimately, the decision is yours to make, Your Grace," Arin said, "I am merely here to advise."
"All the same, thank you for your advice," Said Aegon, "I have to go now."
"Have a pleasant evening, Your Grace," Arin bowed.
Once he was alone, Sainalia approached Arin and leaned against the wall beside him, holding a glass of Uisce [1] in her hands.
"Honestly, I'm quite in awe of how easily you manipulated him, My Lord," She remarked with a smirk, "Now we can work to weaken the nobles one house at a time."
"Are the preparations finished?" Asked Arin.
"Indeed, My Lord. Our people in Paletillia have infiltrated the high echelons of bureaucracy," Sainalia happily reported.
"Good," Said Arin, "Make sure that when war with the Free Cities breaks out, Elaegelle is given command of the best troops we can field."
"Aye, Milord," Sainalia affirmed.
IIOII
Daro Vilinion
Aegon Targaryen
Diplomats from Tyrosh, Lys and Myr were chased out in a hail of insults after they refused to abide by Aegon the Conqueror's ultimatum: Cease attacks on the Iron Throne's trade fleets, or war will be inevitable.
Naturally, the Essosi diplomats did not take well to being ordered by whom they perceived as barbarians, and they flatly refused. As such, there was only one way it would end.
Standing before the gathered populace of Daro Vilinion, Aegon Targaryen began his speech.
"It has been twenty-and-eight years since I last stood upon this podium, and the last time I did, I was crowned King of the Seven Kingdoms. You crowned me king, and gave me a kingdom - a kingdom steeped in proud, ancient tradition! That tradition has sustained the Seven Kingdoms for uncounted millennia. It has bred warriors fierce and proud and hardy, capable of braving the stormy seas, frozen tundras and scorching deserts! Such warriors, I am proud to command!"
The people let out a cheer, jubilation and national pride brimming like an overflowing pot.
"Earlier today, I had to chase out diplomats from the Free Cities of Tyrosh, Lys and Myr! Arrogant in the extreme, to call us barbarians incapable of culture, when we existed for millennia while they existed for mere centuries! A mere blink in the passage of time! They dare mock us and bully us when in reality, they lack our martial pride and prestige, our loyal and powerful armies! Armies who are far superior to any and every mercenary company, petty criminal and castrated slave they can scrounge up! Tell me, warriors of Westeros! Are you inferior to these coin-counters?"
To this perceived insult to their culture and pride, the knights of Westeros had one thing to say.
"Nay!"
"Are you prepared to shed blood and tears in the name of your families, your houses and traditions? More importantly, are you prepared to seize your glory?"
"Aye!"
The thunderous cheering rang like thunder, a bold declaration to the known world that the sleeping dragon was soon to be unleashed.
"Then draw your swords, countrymen!" Aegon shouted, drawing Blackfyre [2] from its sheath, "This day, we go to war and humble these arrogant, useless coin-counters! Just as we humbled the coin-counters of old Volantis!"
"Aye!"
And Aegon smiled.
"To all the ancient kings of yore, may you eat your hearts out."
IIOII
Elaegelle Targaryen
A full company of men stood before Elaegelle, all second-generation ethnic Paletillians from Dornia equipped in standard uniform and wielding pikes and crossbows, proudly bearing the banner of the Crimson Fox.
Her armour - custom-made by master smiths of Rhoyehom - bore wavy ripples and shimmered with magic, shining like silver in the bright sunlight of the afternoon sky. Her pauldrons and helmet were shaped like dragon maws, a sleeveless open-front coat worn over her back proudly bearing her family insignia and colours and lined with thick, warm fur. By her side was a single longsword, simple in design and bearing no outlandish decoration or jewellery, the pommel a dragon's head and the crossguard slightly inverted towards her hand.
"Men! Who do you follow?" Elaegelle bellowed.
"You, Your Highness!" The men chorused.
"Are you ready for war?" She asked.
"Aye, Your Highness!"
"Are you ready to make your families proud, and show all the fruits of your training?"
"Aye, Your Highness!"
Nodding with approval, Elaegelle then called forth the leading sergeant among their ranks.
"You are Sergeant Vilarr Valtheon?" Asked Elaegelle.
"Aye, Your Highness. Ready to serve," Vilarr saluted.
Hailing from a humble family of farmers, Vilarr had to work hard to earn his rank and command, being severely disadvantaged due to being unable to read and write until his military training.
"Good, I expect great things from you," Elaegelle smiled.
"Your Highness," Vilarr saluted again before falling in line.
"They are good soldiers," Ser Jaehaerys whispered to Elaegelle with approval.
"Arin said he was sending some of the best my way," Elaegelle whispered back.
Harrumphing, Elaegelle then addressed the gathered company, "Know that we fight bullies who think themselves our betters because of their immense wealth. These fat pigs, who have never toiled for the wealth they and their ancestors inherited, have no right to bully us; they did not taste the bitterness of poverty, of suffering and toil that we put in order to earn our place in society and the food we put on our plates."
Many of the gathered troops nodded in silent affirmation, their eyes reflecting nostalgia and pride.
"We are ethnic Valyrians, but we are Dornians at heart," Elaegelle continued, "Here, all our past allegiances, all our past cultural influences, have faded away for our new ways and lessons to take root in our hearts and the hearts of our children. When we go to war, know that I will be first into the fire, and last to leave. So, may the Gods be with us all."
Sergeant Vilarr then boomed, "Soldiers, salute!"
And they all saluted their new company commander.
IIOII
Unknown Location
"So, the gods have seen fit to bless some champions here and there, thinking they will be enough to stem the tide? How naive they are to believe I will remain content and let them compete over this world."
The voice that spoke was tyrannical, domineering and overpowering, and any mortal who stood within its presence would be erased into nothingness from the sheer power his sealed form radiated.
"I am one of the primordials who was born long before Planetos was shaped into existence and seeded with life. I was there when the Empire of the Dawn fell, corrupted by my hand. I was there when the Gods of Dawn sealed me at cost to their own lives, and the world was soon to forget me. How eager I am to remind the world of my power, and their hubris for ignoring me."
Three shadowy figures emerged from the waters far from the western coasts of Essos, flying humanoids with dark skin the colour of obsidian, their heads that of lions and their hands and feet replaced with fanged paws, floating in the air without wings.
"Go forth, my servants! Make way for the Lion of Night!"
They flew towards the Free Cities themselves, in search of suitable hosts to possess. They soon found their quarries, all corpulent figures with no redeeming features and qualities whatsoever. Their positions and influence in their respective societies would serve them well.
One magister stared at the night sky, smiling at the beauty of the stars and the moon, a pleasant distraction from dealing with a score of unruly slaves and teaching them in their place.
"Ah, nothing like a little stargazing to take my mind off things."
He drank deeply of his cup of wine, some drops spilling down his lips onto his thick fatty neck, which he wiped off with his sleeve.
Then he saw the black humanoid in the air, flying straight towards him.
"Wha…?"
And he knew no more.
[1] Uisce - The name of the new hard alcoholic drink that House Blodfeld has recently begun producing, using distillation methods and technology they purchased from House Rada. It is not only much stronger than Omsyak, it possesses a unique flavour from ageing in charred oak barrels.
Its name in Endinaic means 'Water of Life'.
[2] Blackfyre - The ancestral sword of House Targaryen, with Aegon Targaryen as its most recent wielder.