The Bloody Prince: HOTD SI

Chapter 49

CORLYS VELARYON

When the war had first begun, Corlys had thought that it would be over within a year. The initial onslaught had been much successful, and he had thought the Crown within his grasp.

And then, a few setbacks later, he had thought that perhaps victory would come to him a few months later, and yet the defeats had continued. One trouble after another plagued his campaign, from defective ships to rotten foods to dwindling supplies, and now, three years later, as he looked around at the gathered men, he wondered if victory would ever come to them.

"The enemy attacked our supply lines a week ago. The rations have run out my lord," his captain informed him, as the men, haggard and tired from continuous fighting of three years, looked towards him for courage and hope.

"We are able to fish for some food, but it is not nearly enough, my lord," the captain continued.

"The men are tired. They need food, armor, and swords, and a dozen tried to flee in the night." It was not the first time he had heard such words. The morale which had once run high had all been lost through the years of pain and suffering as both the Crown and the Crab Feeder choked them from both sides.

"What about the supplies from Lys? They were set to arrive today," he asked as he turned towards his son. And the boy had turned into a man in the war, and yet he was tired as well.

"I believe I have an ominous word in regards to Lys," and it was their alliance that had allowed them to fight. A reluctant alliance, but one which he had become overly reliant on as he lost the backing of the Iron Throne.

His own coffers alone could not bear the weight of this campaign, and hence joining with the Rogares had been an ideal plan until it was not.

He had forgotten that families and fortunes in the Free Cities took years to build but days to vanish. And even for the mighty Rogares, three years of infighting and disputes had been enough to drain them of much of their resources.

Soon enough, the Rogares had become a liability, and even now, their leader had rushed back to Lys to try and hold onto their power there.

"A letter arrived from Lys in the morning," Laenor began as he pushed the missive towards him as he stood there, along with the rest of his councilors.

"the Rogares have lost the election for the First Magister. Drazenko has pulled out of our alliance," and that was the final straw.

"Preposterous!" "Traitors!" the men screamed at those words, and his fury rose as he read the missive and realized that their only hope was lost.

"So, in short, we have no food, no allies, and no possible chance at victory!" his brother's voice came from the side, and he saw Vaemond look around.

"Tell me, brother! What do we have! WHAT! This all was your idea. Your plan, and yet here we stand three years later, thousands dead, hundreds of ships lost, our fortunes ruined, with nothing to show for it!" and his lips thinned.

"Mind how you speak to me. I am your lord!" Corlys thundered, but Vaemons scoffed, there had never been much love between them, and his brother had lost a son to the war already, something for which he blamed Corlys.

"I will not. This war was a mistake! And my son prayed the price for it. We are stranded here, with no food and no possible chance of retreat," Vaemond taunted, and he was right.

The Crab Feeder had drawn them to the middle of the Stepstones, and they had chased after him, thinking that they were winning, until the man had struck at them from behind, cutting off their supply lines.

Laenor had tried to regain control using his dragon, but the pirates hid themselves in caves, avoiding the dragon fire. They struck at night, using the darkness as their cover, and harassed his men, stealing and burning stores of food, putting their ships to fire, and so forth.

The forces from Lys were supposed to counter the enemy at the rear while rebuilding their stores, but now they had abandoned them as well.

"Then tell me what is that you think we must do?" he asked Vaemond and the whispers died down as he looked into his brother's eyes.

Vaemond did not back down as he stepped forward.

"We must engage the Crowd and rebuild the alliance that you spat on. The alliance that has existed since before the Doom of Valyria itself," and there was silence as Corlys scoffed.

"The Crown has abandoned us. You may wish to beg at the Crown's feet, but I will not," Corlys roared as Vaemond scoffed.

"The Crown has abandoned you, brother. You and you alone. Not us," Vaemond scoffed as he took out a missive and threw it on the table, as Corlys frowned.

"I received a missive from the King, promising us aid and relief if we ben..." and Corlys picked up the missive and threw it into the ocean.

"No!" he answered as he looked into Vaemond's eyes.

"I will not beg..."

"Then tell me, brother!" Vaemond cut in as he was about to speak.

"Tell me what we will do! What can we do? What do we even have!" Vaemond and he had no reply, though Laenor did.

"Dragons," his son's whisper cut through the silence as they both turned to look at his son, who stepped forward.

"You ask us what we have, uncle. We have dragons," his son answered, and then he turned towards him.

"Let me lead the attack, let me lead and kill the Crab Feeder. As soon as the man falls, the enemy will crumble," but only if it was that easy.

But what other option was there?

"We know that he is hiding on this island," Laenor pointed out.

"Let me and Laena torch the entire island to the ground. We will force him out of his caves," and he shook his head.

"No. Laena will take no part in this," his daughter had already nearly died once. He could not see that happen.

"Then let me do it. Sea Smoke is fast. With all the men here, I can lead the offensive and slay the Crab Feeder," and it was a sound idea.

"You forget, nephew, but who would the Crab Feeder ever dare to leave the protection of his caves," and there was only one prize that could tempt the man.

"For me," Corlys cut in as everyone turned to look at him.

"I will lead the attack with a small amount until I draw him and his men out of their caves, and when they do, you must strike them down from the skies," he suggested.

"It is risky, father," Laenor added, and it was. It was very risky.

"But this is the only way," he added as he turned away from the table.

"The only way that we win..." for he would win. He had to, for Corlys Velaryon was tired of bending the knee.

He had done it once, and he would not do it again.

0000

RHAENYRA TARGARYEN

Tragedy seemed to cling to Viserys Targaryen, it clung to him like nothing else. Now, with the passing of years, Rhaenyra, once known as the Realm's Delight, had found another name ascribed to her, one meant for mockery and history—The Last Delight.

For it was believed that the Princess was the last joy that came upon King Viserys. His reign had begun with prosperity he had inherited from the Old King, and even now the realm prospered yet its monarch only suffered.

It had all begun with the loss of children and the lack of an heir, which would end up killing his wife. Tragedy would continue to follow him, as his ailment would take from his hand, as he would suffer an ailment that would make it so that his wounds refused to heal.

Then, the realm would suffer another loss as Lady Alicent Hightower would be found dead in her room, her wrists slit open, and though the death, while saddening, was not significant for the King, the next one would be. For within a month of her death, the realm would suffer another loss, as Prince Daemon Targaryen would succumb to his death in a campaign in the Stepstones.

All this pain and suffering would break any man, and the King was but a man. Yet he persisted, he fought and clung to hope, yet fates were not yet done with him.

For when finally the shadows of death were just about to be shed, tragedy struck once more on the day of the Marriage between Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and Prince Aegon Targaryen, as the King slipped down the stairs, falling and breaking both his legs for he had lost the hand that could have helped him steady himself to his ailment months ago.

That was the final straw, and robbed of his ability to walk and run, the King would seclude himself in his room after that day, coming out rarely as he left the ruling and running of the realm to his Council and his heir.

He was a part of that Council, having been named as Hand just months prior to the wedding between the Prince Aegon and the Princess. He had replaced Lord Otto Hightower, a man who served as Hand for a decade.

Lyonel Strong had watched the beginning of King Viserys's reign. He had watched the man who had inherited the throne from the Old King, the bright, cheerful, and joyful man much fond of tourneys and feasts,

Alas! That man was no more.

As he found himself in his solar, like so many times before the King of the Seven Kingdoms who sat there in a wheelchair, his legs had never healed properly from that fall. He had in front of him a book written in the tongue of Old Valyria, and he read it as two expert masons stood there inspecting the ever-expanding model of Old Valyria that now covered half the room.

It was a marvelous sight, really. The model was a thing of beauty, built to scale as per accurate historical accounts. Lyonel had seen it come to life infront of his eyes, and yet this was not a King's calling.

"Your grace," he greeted softly as the King read the letters of the book with a Myrish glass, one crafted specifically for him. It had been a new idea, one that Prince Aegon himself had offered, as he commissioned the short hand-held device for the King specifically.

Now, it was becoming rather common for old Lords and ladies to hire a craftsman to make them a mirror much like the King's own, to help them read as the years ate away at their sight.

"Yes, Lyonel," the man asked, still not looking away from the texts.

"I came to inform you of the Council meeting today," as he would do so for the last three years. For that was his duty as Hand of the King, and he would not sully it by superceding the man who had given him that honor.

"Yes, I was told that there was trouble in the Stepstones," the King whispered as he put down the mirror and looked towards him as Lyonel nodded.

"Yes, your grace. There are rumors that the alliance between Lord Corlys and the Rogares of Lys has fallen through and that the Sea Snake finds himself stranded and surrounded on all sides on those islands," and if true, it was a wretched and damning thing.

And at the mention of that name, of the Sea Snake, he saw those eyes glint for a second; the fire that had once burnt so brightly had become embers, but it still lingered in that gaze.

"Yes, Aegon came a bit earlier and spoke much of the same," and that did not surprise him, the Prince was diligent, and dutiful and was perhaps the main culprit behind the King's lassitude for the of the last three years.

Aegon Targaryen had grown up with a fierce reputation. By defeating the mountain men of the Vale, he had done before becoming a full man what none had ever thought of accomplishing.

He was a brilliant tactician and a dutiful lord, inheriting the best of his maternal and paternal grandsires while having none of their fallacies.

The Prince had just become a man and was yet to inherit the throne. But he had accomplished more than many Kings would in their entire reigns, for as King Viserys dedicated himself to his fancies, the Prince took upon more and more of his duties.

And with that, the King's presence at the Council Meetings grew more and more sparse with every passing month, until it was such that now it had been more than a month since the King had joined them for a Council Meeting.

"He was of the mind to offer the man a way out of this mess," the King began, and Lyonel nodded, interested as always in what had transpired between the King and the Prince.

"Distasteful, but the man is in a precarious situation and has lost much to this misguided campaign of his," and that was true. House Velaryon, once the richest and most powerful House of the realm, had beggared itself in the Stepstones as many before, and the war, which had begun with great promise, now threatened to swallow the Sea Snake and his entire fortune.

"I was not fond of the idea, but the Velaryons are our kin, and so I have chosen to heed his advice. A diplomatic message will be conveyed to him, an offer to rejoin the fold," the King said as Lyonel nodded.

"But nothing more, we will not offer him any aid, not until he bends the knee like the rest of the realm," and while harsh, it was a fair plan.

"That is quite fair, your grace," and it was, and the King nodded, seemingly at peace with himself, for King Viserys was never one with a cold heart; he was gracious and judicious.

"Your grace, about the Council Meeting, there are other matters that would need your attention..." but the King stopped him with the raise of his hand.

"Let Aegon and Rhaenyra handle them," he said as he picked up his mirror once again and began to pour over his texts.

"The boy has proven himself to be rather competent, and I do hope that you would be there to advise him if he is about to make a mistake," the King asked, and Lyonel bowed a dutiful Hand.

"Of course, your grace. Though, I would add that he rarely needs that advice," and the King smiled sagely.

"Yes. Yes, it was a good match. Him and Rhaenyra, a very good match," and Lyonel would agree.

"It was," he repeated as the King dismissed.

"That will be all, but do tell me when a reply comes from the Stepstones and make sure that necessary arrangements are ready for whatever it maybe," and Lyonel nodded.

"As you say, your grace," and with that, Lyonel Strong walked out of the King's solar without the King once more, as had become the norm as he walked towards the Council chambers.

The Red Keep had grown much quieter since the beginning of King Viserys's reign, the bustle from those frequent feasts and tourneys no longer filled the Halls, for unlike King Viserys the Prince was not much fond of tourneys and feasts, preferring the serenity of peace and quiet.

He walked through the Halls until he reached the Council Chambers, and as he entered the room, the lords made to stand, and in the three years since he had become the Hand, the Council had not changed much.

The only new face was Lord Robert Redwyne, the Master of Ships. The younger brother of the Lord of Arbor had replaced Lord Corlys when the man had resigned in protest and was a rather experienced and patient man.

"Will your grace be joining us for the day?" Lord Beesbury questioned and he shook his head at the Master of Coin.

"I am afraid the King has again delegated his duties to Prince Aegon," he finished, and Lord Beesbury smiled. None in the Council were shocked at that, it had become quite the norm.

"Is he not here yet," he asked as he sat down, and Lord Beesbury shook his head.

"He will be here soon," added Ser Willam, the Prince's right-hand man.

Officially, Prince Aegon held the title of Master of Laws, yet as the King dished out more and more responsibilities to him, the Prince delegated some of his duties to his cousin, who often served as his right-hand man.

"He has gone to call for the Princess...."

0000

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