First Moon, 102 AD (1 AC)
The Ranger Commandant
Crowley and his fellow Rangers watched from a distance as the King and Queen blasted through the Golden Tooth with their dragons. The sight of Balerion and Meraxes in all their awesome power never failed to amaze him.
Their preparations for this war had not gone unnoticed and the Golden Tooth had been fortified and reinforced with almost ten thousand men, many of them veterans from the campaign in the Iron Islands. They were under the command of Lord Roger Lefford, the lord of the castle. Many of those men now died screaming as fire poured from the skies.
Every offer to yield had been rejected by the Westerlanders and no threat could corral them to submit and so King Aegon and Queen Rhaenys had made the decision to spare the lives of their men in an assault and speed up the campaign by simply destroying the Tooth and all its defenders with dragonfire. Once the fires went out, their army marched into the ruins of the Tooth, capturing any surviving defenders they found who were desperate to surrender along with all of their supplies, and looting the treasure vaults of House Lefford.
Drily Crowley wondered how Ser Gaemon Gryvetheon would take to the castle that had been promised him by the King being ruined and sacked but he supposed a loyal Dragonguard like him wouldn't really mind, especially if the King's generosity held true and he paid for the rebuilding of the castle.
Ultimately such matters were not of any importance to Crowley. Far more important tasks had been entrusted to him and his men. While their King and Queen and the army secured the Golden Tooth and the supply lines from back home, Crowley and his Rangers spurred their horses down the roads deeper into enemy territory, all of them going their separate ways one by one. Each one of them carried with them a detailed map of the Westerlands that had been made for them from the records in the Riverlands and the efforts of the King's Eyes that had infiltrated the Westerlands months or even years in advance.
Their task as Rangers in war was to act primarily as forward scouts, intelligence-gathering agents, and special mission soldiers, far beyond the scopes of even the most skilled and daring outriders that would normally venture out from a marching army. Rangers would penetrate deep into enemy territory, living off the land and scouting out enemy fortresses, armies, and assessing the terrain, roads and any hidden paths, local conditions and ways to exploit them before reporting it all back to the army. They were also trusted with the initiative to sabotage and destroy enemy supply lines and convoys.
Crowley's fourteen Rangers had all been given those exact missions and he was certain that they would bring honor to the name of the Ranger Corps as they accomplished them. They were a young organization, and even Crowley himself had only recently completed his training under the watchful eyes of Queen Visenya the year before. While they had already proven to be incredibly effective in their domestic duties in the Riverlands, war would be the ultimate test for their skills and Crowley would be damned before he let either himself or any of the men under his command fail to live up to the expectations of their lieges.
It felt like a lifetime ago now that he had been just a fisherman's son on Dragonstone, poaching in the dragon preserve trying to make ends meet for his family when his father had fallen sick and had been unable to support them. When he had been caught, he had thought it had been the end for him and his family, with him the only able-bodied son about to lose either a hand, his life, or his freedom packed off to the Wall.
But the Targaryens had shown him mercy. They had spared his life and given some aid and relief to his family, long enough for his father to recover from his illness and fish once again. Furthermore, they had shown their wisdom, removing much of the preserve on Dragonstone to allow the people to hunt once again and taking steps to ensure the local trades and guilds would prosper to ensure the people never went hungry or wanted for anything again.
That was when Crowley had finally understood why so many of the people on Dragonstone had seen the Targaryens as closer to gods than men. He still remembered the beauty in their faces when they had spared him, the wisdom and power in their voices when they had made known their decisions.
And all they had asked of him in return was to give them his service and skills, helping them to build and create the Ranger Corps that would be one of the pillars of their rule. It had been and still was his greatest honor. The life of a Ranger was not an easy one, but it was meaningful and full of purpose. Every bandit they hunted down and killed, every wild animal they put down, every scheming noble or official they reported on, every enemy fief they scouted, they knew just how much it all contributed to the peace and stability of their kingdom and the goals of their lieges.
Over the coming weeks, as he rode through the Westerlands on his horse Cropper, he couldn't help but be amazed at the little horse's speed and endurance. He was only a first-generation Ranger horse too, being a cross between a Dothraki courser and a Dornish sand steed. Their breeders had plans to mix and test various breeds from all across Westeros and Essos to eventually create the best breed of horses for their needs that would be even faster and more enduring.
He still chuckled sometimes at the memory of Cropper bucking him off the first time he had tried riding. Ranger horses were very valuable due to the traits they were bred for and so by King Aegon's orders, they were trained by the breeders to only accept riders who had told them a pass phrase specific to each horse at least once.
Suddenly his horse seemed to shake his head as if to say, "Stop daydreaming and focus on your mission."
He was right of course, though Crowley found himself wondering if it was all in his mind or if his horse really was talking to him. There were old tales of course of the skinchangers and their familiars and then there were the awfully clever ravens the Maesters and Couriers used and how could he forget the bonds between his King and Queens and their dragons. It wouldn't be all that surprising if their horses were so clever that they appeared to understand them and even speak to them at times, and he knew his fellow Rangers had reported similarly but it still seemed strange. As far as he was aware, he was not a skinchanger or a dragonlord and horses couldn't speak.
Cropper snorted then, as if reacting to Crowley's thoughts or perhaps to him once again becoming lost in his thoughts and not focusing. Taking the hint, Crowley banished his strange thoughts away and focused on his task. Up ahead he saw a small camp of soldiers centered around three wagons went about their day.
Crowley had been tracking this supply convoy for the past three days, meaning to destroy it. He had finally caught up to them on the road near Castamere and heading south to Casterly Rock and now that he had, their fate was sealed.
He had watched them in the night from his hidden vantage point in the woods nearby, counting how many targets there were. Around thirty in total unless he had seriously miscounted. Not a problem for him.
'A Ranger carried the lives of two dozen men in his quiver,' or so the saying went. It was an unofficial motto in their corps alongside 'One riot, one ranger,' though both sayings had originated from the King and were slowly starting to spread out to the common folk in the Riverlands as the reputation of their order grew.
Though words might just be wind, Crowley had the skills to back up those sayings with actions as well. The King and Queen had drilled them relentlessly and he had spent every free waking moment he had in the past six years practicing with his weapons relentlessly. Twenty-four arrows in his quiver, another forty in his saddle pack, and all the stealth and fighting skills of a fully trained ranger. This convoy was easy pickings for him.
Crowley opened his saddle pack and took out ten extra arrows and placed them in a secondary quiver before ordering Cropper to hide in the woods. He approached a tad closer to the camp and nocked his bow, holding his breath and preparing to draw and take aim before he noticed something lit by the light of the campfire that he had been too far away to notice earlier in the darkness.
It was a sigil, that of a red lion with a golden tongue and claws on a field of silver. The banner of House Reyne of Castamere. Crowley released his bowstring, letting the tension release as he considered his next move.
King Aegon had personally entrusted him with another mission separate from that the rest of his Rangers had been given, trusting only in his skills and loyalty as the Commandant and perhaps the most capable member of the Corps to date. If possible, he was to make contact with Lord Reyne and give him an offer he could not refuse.
It made sense for this convoy to belong to the Reynes seeing as it was on the road from Castamere and it had their banner to boot. His decision made, Crowley returned to his horse and settled in for the night. It looked like this convoy would get to live after all.
Over the coming days he followed the convoy from a distance and just as he had expected, they led him right to the Reyne army a few days south. The camp was much, much larger than the convoy's camp had been. Crowley estimated that the Reyne army had to be about four thousand strong, maybe more.
Like many army camps though, security was perhaps not as tight as it should have been with all the camp followers and supply convoys moving in and out. He had to remind himself that not all armies were managed as efficiently and professionally as his lieges managed theirs when he saw this.
Putting his skills to the test, Crowley snuck into the camp and scouted it out in the night, never once being caught as he explored and discovered where Lord Reyne's tent was before plotting a route to get there and get in. He knew he had to act quickly though before the army broke camp and undoubtedly continued their march which was why he put his plan into action on the second night.
Taking advantage of all his training he moved undetected in the shadows, unseen by the sentries as he skulked toward the lord's tent. Spotting the guards at the front entrance of the tent and the patrols roaming about however, Crowley took out a spare knife (not his trusted saxe or throwing knife) and slowly cut away a hole in the back wall of the tent large enough for him to squeeze inside.
Lord Robert Reyne's tent was as pompous and ostentatious as you would expect from the second-wealthiest house in the West. There were even tables and bookshelves in the tent for Seven's sake. All the better for him to remain undetected though. He helped himself to some papers and letters as he sneaked through the tent, reading over them quickly before putting them away.
The lord of the tent question was reading something in candlelight at his desk, his red hair almost glowing in the light of the fire. Crowley smirked. He drew out his spare knife again and crouched up behind the seat before placing his left hand over his mouth and the knife at his throat.
"Scream and you die," he said as he did so.
Lord Reyne struggled briefly in surprise before instantly forcing himself to calm and Crowley slowly moved his hand away from his mouth to let him speak.
"What do you want?" Lord Reyne demanded.
"Just to talk. I am a Ranger in the service of House Targaryen of Summerhall. Have you heard of our corps?"
"Only as a rumor from the Riverlands. I had not thought it to mean anything. Just some legend the smallfolk had started telling. You and your order are real then?"
"We are."
"Fascinating. So, what does a Targaryen ranger want with me?"
"I have been empowered to speak on behalf of my king," Crowley said before he drew out the royal seal he had been given to show to Lord Reyne before quickly tucking it back into his jerkin.
The days in which the silver oakleaf would be enough for anyone to trust their words as a ranger had not yet come, their reputation was not great enough for it, but until that time came, they would make do however they could.
"You are on your way to Casterly Rock I have heard. King Aegon would like to ask you to help him in taking the castle from the inside with your forces when the time comes. You will lead a mutiny that will turn on the Lannisters and your men will help ours in killing or capturing the rest of the garrison, ensuring the castle's submission."
Crowley removed the knife from Lord Reyne's throat as a sign of goodwill, though it remained at the shoulder of the chair as a warning to Lord Reyne not to turn around and try and look at him.
"And why would I do that?" Lord Reyne demanded.
"Why wouldn't you?" Crowley challenged. "The Targaryen army is at Ashemark. Every day brings it closer to Casterly Rock. Nothing so far has been able to stand in its way, do you think Casterly Rock will be any different ultimately? Whether or not you join my king, the end result will be the same. The Rock will fall, and the dragons will be triumphant.
"The question now my lord Reyne, is if you will fall with the Lannisters or rise with the Targaryens. There is no love lost between you and House Lannister, but there could be with House Targaryen. Look to the Riverlands if you must, see the rich rewards that were given to all those who joined my king and the punishments given to those that stood against him.
"If you join House Targaryen, my king has asked me to relate to you that he will return Red Rain, your house's rightful ancestral sword to you. Furthermore, if your service proves exemplary, you may even be given overlordship of your neighbors and made the Warden of the Pendric Hills. I'm sure you know the power and authority Wardens are honored with in King Aegon's kingdom. It is far beyond anything the ungrateful and arrogant Lannisters ever gave you, isn't it?"
"And how do I know that you are telling me the truth? That you truly are who you say you are and that your king will live up to his end of the bargain?" Lord Reyne demanded.
"You don't. All you have is the evidence and examples I have given you. But let me leave you with this to think about my lord. Deep down you know that House Targaryen will emerge victorious over House Lannister in this war, it is only a matter of time. Dragons are such fearsome weapons and nothing can stop them, the Targaryens continues to march through the Westerlands unhindered by anything or anyone. Is it better to stand against them and know the certainty of defeat and annihilation or to take the risk that joining them will bring you great rewards as you know it did for others in the Riverlands?"
Crowley did not give Lord Reyne a chance to speak with him any longer, as he was already halfway out of the tent as the conversation progressed, having balanced his spare knife on the shoulder of the chair to sell the illusion that he was still behind him and by the time Lord Reyne realized that he was no longer there, Crowley was long gone into the night.
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Visenya
Throwing up her breakfast into the chamber pot was not a fun experience. It had happened a few times already now, though not that often thankfully. The Iron Islands did not seem to be agreeable with her stomach and she could understand why. They were a few miserable rocks in the sea, damp and dreary and the people were little better. Still, some argued that Dragonstone where she grew up was not much different and Visenya briefly considered the issue before she turned her thoughts to more important matters.
The first island that they had conquered had been Harlaw, which had been firmly under the control of the Westerlands at the time. In a rather ironic twist, the local Ironmen had greeted them as liberators and seemed so grateful to be freed of the Westerlanders' yoke they barely paid attention to the restrictions and laws Visenya had imposed on them. Years of the Westerlanders' brutalities had thinned the population of the island and all of the local reavers, drowned men, and priests had all fled or been killed.
Harlaw Hall itself was a damp, constantly flooding, and altogether unpleasant castle, likely exacerbating her health issues, which were once again giving her pause. Dragonlords like herself were immune to near any infectious disease, and their constitution and health was better than most people in general.
Not to mention the symptoms were strangely familiar, almost reminding her a little of… no that couldn't be right. It had been several weeks since the last time she had seen her husband and she was certain she had taken the necessary precautions after their 'farewell' to each other. That had been a particularly wild and fun night. She smiled briefly at the memory before she shook her head.
Putting the matter aside once again, Visenya considered how her and her siblings' simultaneous campaigns were going. The glass candles had been exceptionally useful in this task as they allowed them instantaneous communication and long-range magical scrying that helped supplement their existing ravenry networks, Rangers, and other spies.
It was through all of those means that Visenya was aware of the fact that in just three weeks her siblings had conquered their way to Oxcross and Ashemark and had even been able to make contact with Lord Robert Reyne through their Ranger Commandant Crowley and give him their offer. Only time would tell what his decision would be but either way it went, Visenya knew the Rock would fall. There was no way it stood with Aegon and Rhaenys intent on breaking it.
In the Iron Islands her campaign had gone a little slower, due to the tedium of ferrying all her forces from the mainland to Harlaw but once that had been accomplished things had gone by much faster. All of Harlaw Island had fallen and they had a beachhead on neighboring Orkmont.
She was still uncertain about the wisdom of her siblings giving her much of their best and most loyal troops and commanders, but she could hardly deny the results it was producing. Capable lords, generals, and admirals like Orys Baratheon, Quenton Qoherys, Jacaerys Velaryon, and Legate Valoquo were more than worth their salt. And perhaps most importantly, they were close friends or even kin of hers and she knew she could trust them.
The campaign was going so well that Visenya had ordered an attack on Pyke since the island was closest to the Westerlands and had Lordsport, the largest settlement in the Iron Islands. If they could take the island and destroy or capture its ports, they could effectively cut off the Westerlanders from their supply routes from the mainland.
It wouldn't be an easy battle though. Much of the Lannister fleet under the command of Gerold Lannister was still at large in the region, despite Visenya's attempts to track them down with Vhagar and her glass candle, (the glass candle had been strangely more tiring to use than usual lately). But that was all part of her plan too. She was certain that Gerold Lannister would reveal his fleet and try and stop her own, knowing that they could not let Pyke fall.
And when he did, she would be there to destroy them all with Vhagar. She had already sent Jacaerys off with the fleet for that mission though she hadn't set off yet herself, choosing to wait at Harlaw Hall instead. There was a chance that the Westerlander fleet would not engage if there were reports of her and Vhagar anywhere near the western coast of Harlaw and close enough to respond.
Unfortunately for them, they were unaware that she had a glass candle and she knew how to use it. As soon as she spotted them anywhere near her cousin's fleet, Vhagar could make the distance between Harlaw Hall and the sea between Harlaw and Pyke within an hour or two at most and that would be the end of them.
Visenya sat herself down at the desk in her quarters and placed the glass candle in front of her. It was a long and dark piece of twisted obsidian. Ominous and gloomy some might call it, but she felt right at home with it. Many had often said similar things about her after all.
She had no fear of the glass candle; it was a piece of her heritage. Raising her hand up to the candle, she focused, casting her mind out to link with it and bending it to her will. In an instant, an unpleasantly bright flame roared to life at the top of the candle, lighting the obsidian like a wick but never burning it away like ordinary wax would be.
The light emanating from the top of the candle did strange things to colors. The white cloth on the table became as bright as freshly fallen snow, the yellow daisies on the counter shone like gold, the red banners on the walls burned like flames, and the shadows in the corners darkened so much they looked like holes in the world.
Instinctively, she closed her eyes, trying to block out the strange colors and focus instead on the sight the candle bestowed upon her. In her mind she saw everything. Mountains, forests, cities, seas, and more. Dark terrors one should never witness flashed into the fiery blaze of lava and magma in the heart of a volcano. Lands both familiar and not, cities both dear and foreign, all zoomed by as the glowing light of the candle took her for a ride across the world.
The endless barrage of information and images was so intense that if nothing was done, it was inevitable that she would go mad. With the force of her mind however, Visenya bent the candle to her will, leashing it to her soul and forcing its sight to center on her location, allowing her to see her own body almost as if she was another creature in the room.
She could see her body gritting its teeth and the sweat beading in exertion and concentration. Magic came at a price and the weak who were unable to pay that price perished. Even now she could feel the candle straining at her will. It was not inherently malicious, simply wanting to be free, to cast its gaze across the world entire but she could not let it.
Visenya did not know why, but the candle was even harder to control than usual. She could feel an ache in her head and she knew that if her concentration slipped even a little the candle would go wild and she would have no choice but to detach her mind from it. Shaking off her fatigue as best she could, she directed the light to move and cast its gaze over the waters west of Harlaw.
First she found Jacaerys' fleet sailing for Pyke and then after minutes that felt like hours of searching, she found the Lannister fleet at last on course to intercept her cousin. Visenya smirked in her head. She had them now.
She detached her mind away from the candle and willed its light to extinguish before she rose to her feet, intending to set off for Vhagar before her headache suddenly got even worse. She felt her vision start spinning into a dizzy spiral as her nausea from earlier returned with a vengeance. Visenya almost fell to the floor, her tired arm barely holding her up on the edge of the table as she felt faint.
Desperate, she took a deep breath trying to recover and regain her bearings but it wasn't long before she succumbed and fell to the ground, her vision blacking out. Hours later she awoke to the worried face of her younger brother Orys. He helped her to her feet and then to her bed before he called for the healers.
It did not take long for the news to spread through all of Harlaw Hall that Queen Visenya had collapsed and her commanders sent ravens at once to Ashemark to inform her siblings, King Aegon and Queen Rhaenys. All the while, Jacaerys Velaryon's fleet continued sailing west, unaware that Vhagar would never come to their aid as had been promised…
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Author's Note: Hope you guys liked this chapter! A bit shorter than usual but pacing-wise I felt it best to leave it here. Stay tuned!
Crowley and his horse are expies from Ranger's Apprentice and the Ranger mottos and training are all from that series so if you liked that interlude, I'm really glad you do! Maybe check out the original Ranger's Apprentice series as the entire series is focused around content like that interlude and it will help you understand the Ranger Corps as it is written in my story even more.
As for Visenya, it should be obvious what is up with her but do lmk if you need further clarification in the comments below. Stay tuned to see how this new development changes the course of the war and her character development!
Any ideas for an alternate chapter title? I'm not sure for one so I just settled on 'The Fog of War' for the meantime, not sure how well it fits or if may not be better used in a later chapter. Let me know your thoughts, suggestions, and any questions in the comments below or over on Discord! https://discord.com/invite/NSEwuzpcWm