Chapter 73: The Firestorm

Second Moon, 132 AC

Baela

With a dragon's eye view, she soared over all the lands. Years of experience and training allowed her to bend the candle and its rebellious light to her will with ease but it still needed focus. At any moment the candle could drag her mind across the whole world and away from what she wished to see.

In the aftermath of that day and with glass candle scrying to ensure the remaining Targaryens would not sally forth and challenge them, Jacaerys, Laena, Corlys, Baelor, Jaenara, Serra, and Daemon had all deployed once again in order ensure that there would be minimal threat to the Triarchy from Westeros. Decades' worth of infrastructure built to support and host armies and fleets in Cape Wrath and Dorne had all gone up in flames, as did the soldiers mustering there under Targaryen orders. The smallfolk and even the nobility had been allowed to flee in many cases, for needless and cruel slaughter of innocents was not their goal. Only wanton destruction.

Only a month had passed since that day and Storm's End, Evenfall Hall, Griffin's Roost, Crow's Nest, Stonehelm, Fawnton, Mistwood, Estermont, Rain House, and Singing Town had all been destroyed, with the ruins of Singing Town now named Weeping Town by the dispossessed survivors left to pick up the ashes and rebuild their lives from nothing. Dorne had suffered similarly, the region had barely recovered from the Targaryen conquest twelve years ago and now Baela's marital house had destroyed it again for the second time. The Tor, Godsgrace, Salt Shore, Ghost Hill, Spottswood, Lemonwood, and even Summerhall had been razed.

Remembering Summerhall left a particularly bitter taste in Baela's mouth. It had been her father's pride and joy, everything that he, her mother, and brother had worked to build for over a decade. She remembered happy memories spent there as they had tried to give peace one last chance and arrange meetings between their families. A time that was now gone, as dead as her father, brother, and Luke were. Peace there may yet be, one enforced with a dragon's jaw at the Targaryens' throats, but there would never be warmth and love again. What did her mother and little sister think of her now she wondered?

Putting aside her dark thoughts as best as she could, she moved the glass candle south to the Summer Islands, watching as Velaryon armies and fleets invaded and fought their way through the islands. They would likely need to send a few dragonriders south to help clean up and consolidate the area when things were settled with the Targaryens.

Moving north, she came to the Stepstones and briefly looked over them, seeing the Velaryon Navy patrolling its waters, and the Velaryon Army garrisoned in the islands' castles with the Sea Dragon banner flying from every standard. Houses Hightower of Highwatch, Redwyne of Redwater, and Lannister of Guardian had all been taken into custody as hostages and would be used as bargaining tools in any negotiations with the Iron Throne while Houses Mooton of Grey Gallows, Swann of Scarwood, Darklyn of Dustspear, and Manderly of Serpentholm had been placed under house arrest but were tentatively being offered peerages and some form of compensation for their fiefs, either in the form of great landed estates in the Essosi continent or being allowed to keep ownership of their castles if not the islands.

With a nudge from her mind, Baela felt the candle straining to go west and she allowed it, just a little, to overlook the burnt out husks and ruins of Summerhall and the other Dornish castles before crossing over the Sea of Dorne to Cape Wrath. The Rainwood had caught on fire from all of the destruction and even now the fires burned through the forests wild and untamed. A storm of fire clearly visible even from where her view was high in the sky, devouring everything in its path.

Passing over the ruins of Storm's End and Tarth, she came to Massey's Hook where yet another fire raged. Before the Dance had begun, they had filled up both Stonedance and Castle Driftmark and Hull with many barrels of wildfire and rigged them to blow at the slightest disturbance. A disturbance that would not be long coming.

Only a few days after that day, Targaryen soldiers from Dragonstone had landed to occupy the island of Driftmark while knights and levies from the Massey's Hook houses such as Bar Emmon and Sunglass who had defected to House Targaryen marched on Stonedance. Their end would be grim.

Over three hundred Targaryen soldiers died in Hull after they had disturbed the wildfire barrels in the town and in Castle Driftmark, causing a great explosion. Luckily for the Targaryens though, the conflagration had been constrained by the outer walls of Hull though that may not have been a good thing. Unable to spread to the rest of the island, the wildfire had lit up Castle Driftmark and Hull like a giant green candle visible from miles away, with the inferno reducing much of the two settlements into piles of ash, debris, and rubble full of melted twisted stone, greatly complicating any potential rebuilding. Even now, a month later, the wildfire still burned and it may very well do so until there was nothing left but a desolate ashy wasteland within the walls of Hull.

At Stonedance, years of decline and lack of maintenance had allowed the wild forests to creep far too close to the castle and so when the wildfire was triggered, the resulting explosion sent fiery debris right into those forests, setting them on fire and creating yet another firestorm that was currently burning its way through the forests and farmlands of Massey's Hook. The Wendwater would protect the Kingswood itself, but little could protect the lands of House Bar Emmon, House Sunglass, and the other treacherous and petty vassals in the region from the inferno steadily progressing towards them. A divine retribution for their disloyalty Baela had heard some more fanatic servants of House Velaryon call it.

Moving further north, past the ruins of Driftmark and its settlements, she saw the Targaryen banner flying from Castle Celtigar, or Castle Claw as the Targaryens now called it with House Celtigar having been attainted after they had fled Westeros. The same sight could be seen in Gulltown and Runestone as well, with Arryn and Targaryen banners draped over both settlements and their ruling houses in chains and attainted.

With the Conches as their messengers, they had instructed their three remaining Westerosi allies to flee the Seven Kingdoms and wait out the storm in Myr, Pentos, or even Braavos when word had come of Aemon's passing. Unfortunately, none of the three houses had taken their warnings that seriously, though they did make some preparations, with House Celtigar actively loading most of their wealth and retinues into their fleet in the time they had.

When it had become clear war was imminent after their spies in King's Landing and their schemes had been partially exposed, they had warned their allies yet again and this time Celtigar had taken the warning seriously, setting sail with the vast majority of their servants, possessions, and all of their guards and family members for Pentos where they had then proceeded to make their way down the Essosi coastline until they had reached the safety of Myr. With their fleet and wealth intact and a peerage promised to them by Jace, House Celtigar had a bright future in the Velaryon Empire.

The same could not be said of the Graftons and Royce-Arryns. They had ignored the first warning for the most part and had barely prepared to leave, too attached to their lands and claims within the Vale and with far too much of a traditionally feudal Westerosi worldview, so much so that they had been sent scrambling when they had sent the second and final warning on the eve of the war. Perhaps they had thought themselves beneath the Targaryens' notice, perhaps they had hoped that House Velaryon would win quickly enough to secure their position in the Vale. Whatever it was, the evacuation had failed when Aemond Targaryen had flown north barely three days after the Battle Above Driftmark.

In Crackclaw Point, the Clawmen who had long chafed under House Celtigar and desired to swear directly to House Targaryen had eagerly welcomed Aemond though they would find Claw Isle deserted and House Celtigar gone. Enraged, Aemond had turned his attention on Gulltown and Runestone and demanded that the people turn over House Grafton and House Royce or burn. And they did, almost every last Grafton and Royce-Arryn was given to Aemond in chains save for those few who had been wise enough to depart for Essos earlier.

In his anger, Baela had heard tales that Aemond had almost burned them all with his dragon Vhagar before relenting at the last moment. Nonetheless the future of both houses was now uncertain and they were hostages of the Targaryens as much as the Stepstones houses were hostages of House Velaryon; among them was Cassandra Grafton née Celtigar, the woman who had once been her husband's first love.

For a single treacherous moment, Baela allowed herself to wonder if her life wouldn't be happier if Jace had eloped with Cassandra instead of marrying her. Maybe she wouldn't have been forced to murder her own brother and abet in the death of her father. Maybe she wouldn't be tearing herself apart right now with grief, guilt, and dis–

She snapped herself away from those thoughts.

Gulltown and Runestone had both since been occupied by the armies of House Arryn. It was unlikely there was any future for House Grafton and House Royce-Arryn in Westeros but if they could get their allies back, they could still have a future in Essos with years' worth of clever investments and business opportunities taken in the Triarchy and a peerage and other favors from House Velaryon. However, their safe return was easier said than done.

Ever since they had secured the Graftons and Royces as hostages, the Targaryens had refused to leave Blackwater Bay, not even to defend the vassals and peoples they had sworn to protect. Dorne and the Stormlands had cried out for House Targaryen, for their lieges to save them, but no aid had come. Instead the Targaryens had turned a deaf ear and gathered all their remaining family members and dragons in the region centered around King's Landing in the hopes that they would not be divided and caught unawares like they had been on that day. Even the children had been tasked with the protection of the Red Keep itself, for though they themselves may be young, their dragons were large and capable of fighting.

They couldn't just assassinate them all either like she had been too weak to stomach before the war. The Conches had broken out their imprisoned comrades and protected the deepest secrets of their organization, including that of the glass candles, but it had come at the cost of exposing even more of their network and assets in King's Landing to Larys Strong and the Targaryens and they had all since been purged.

The Conches had since largely withdrawn from King's Landing rather than risk capture again with Larys Strong's purges continuing and it would take years upon years to rebuild their assets and networks in the city to the degree they had been before the war had started. If they wanted to achieve their goals by force, they would have to confront and face the nine remaining Targaryen dragons and riders all at once. That is of course, if they used force.

As Baela slipped out of the glass candle and let its light fade and the colors of the world returned to normal, she saw her sister's stricken glance. "Any news?" she asked.

"The same as usual. Our armies and fleets continue to fight it out in the Summer Isles, Dorne, the Rainwood, and Massey's Hook still burn, and the Targaryens are all holed up in King's Landing," Baela answered.

The Targaryens she called them. Neither of them were worthy to call them family anymore, not after everything they had done. When she woke up in the morning every day, Baela saw blood on her hands. The blood of her kin, so much blood she felt like drowning.

And logically she knew, she knew it had to be done, that she had acted to protect not just her own life but that of her children, that it was kill or be killed, Luke's death proved no less. But knowing that did nothing to heal the void that had opened in her heart, it did nothing to take away the agonizing guilt and grief, and it did not lessen her anger at Jace.

She had screamed and hit him so many times the past month it made her ashamed to even look at him and made her drown in guilt even more. She resented him, she resented that he had married her and lied to her to force her into a side that would take up arms against the family that had birthed her. She resented that Jace was alive and not Luke or her father and brother and so many others as much as she was so deeply grateful that he was seeing how her sister was falling apart after Luke's death. She hated him as much as she loved him. And above everything else, Baela hated herself for letting it come to this.

Maybe if Rhaena and her hadn't so stringently opposed and hampered the plans to assassinate the Targaryens, Luke would still be alive and they wouldn't have to deal with the guilt of having murdered their family members with their own hands, only the knowledge that they had died and they had done nothing. Now Baela would consider that trade more than worth it.

Rhaena choked up, randomly bursting into tears and Baela struggled not to join her. They had been doing that a lot lately. The slightest memory or thought could send them reeling into a pit of despair and depression. The guilt and grief overpowered everything after that day.

That day… the start of the war that everyone now called the Dance of the Dragons, the same codename they had come up with for the conflict decades ago. On the very first day of the war, they had slaughtered seven Targaryen dragons and riders and mortally injured one more of each. Meleys had died of her injuries only a week after the Battle Above Driftmark and Rhaenys was so grievously injured nobody expected her to live for many more years.

All it had cost them had been the lives of her goodparents and Dreamfyre, Luke and Morghul, and Daeron's dragon Terrax. Three Velaryons and three dragons for seven Targaryens and eight dragons. Any strategist would call that a bargain, but Baela could only call it pain. With the possible exception of her goodparents whom she had cared little for (and even then Baela had no choice but to care due to how their deaths had affected her husband and the children), every single person who had died that day, Targaryen or Velaryon, had been someone she had loved once.

In a single day she had lost her father, her younger brother, her cousins, and her niece and nephew. Rhaena had lost all that she had and her husband on top of it, and Jace had lost his parents and his twin. So much pain, so much loss in one day, and so much of it at their own hands… Baela just wanted it all to end.

As Rhaena sniffed and tried to regain her composure, she tearfully confessed to her. "I still expect to see Luke you know? I turn a corner and I think he's there, I go back to my bedroom and I expect to see him waiting for me, but he's not. He never will, never again. And it's all my fault. I wasted so much time holding a pointless grudge against him, wasting time I didn't realize was limited and precious, expending energy to protect someone who killed him in the end. Father killed him, and yet I still grieved him when he died, even though he killed Luke. Is something wrong with me? And Jae and Rhaenyra, we killed them. I… I," she choked again, struggling to hold back the tears.

Rhaena was spiraling again and Baela knew she had to act fast to pull her out of this before she hurt herself. It had happened before. There was a reason neither of them had taken part in creating the firestorms House Velaryon had unleashed upon Westeros. Neither of them were in the mental state to do much of anything.

But she needed her sister. She needed her twin to be on her side because she knew no one else would be soon enough. Once she had comforted Rhaena and calmed her down, Baela spoke again. "I need you to focus Rhaena. A letter arrived from King's Landing this morning. The Targaryens are suing for peace," she said, remembering what Jace had told her, an offering given in the hope she would forgive him.

Her sister turned to her, fully attentive for the first time since that day. "What do you need me to do?"

"I need you to help me end this pointless war and make sure that no one else has to die."

__________________________________

The council room of Zaldilaros Palace had hosted many meetings in its history and now it played host to one more. This time, it would be the setting for a meeting that would decide the fate of the Known World. To decide whether there would be peace, uneasy as it may be, between House Velaryon and House Targaryen, or if the war would continue unto its bitter end.

Unlike the meeting they had had in Myr before the war had started, which had had the Triarchy Council and Mysaria of the Conches in attendance for at least the first part, from the very beginning this meeting was open only to the present members of the House of Zaldilaros Velaryon. Baela herself, Jace, Rhaena, Laena, Daeron, Corlys, Daemon, Baelor, Serra, and Jaenara. With Rhaelle and the younger children having almost reached Velos, the ten of them made up the full assembly of their family and they would be the ones that would decide the future of Westeros and Essos in one conversation.

It was Jace that opened the meeting. He was curt and quick to the point. "A letter has arrived from King's Landing. Curiously it has been signed and sealed not by Aemond the Prince Regent but directly by Rhaenys though her handwriting is very different from what I remember. In short however, the Targaryens are suing for peace, they are asking for our conditions for a truce and a location to discuss peace terms."

It was Baelor that spoke first. "Well this is a rather short meeting then isn't it? We just tell the Targaryens to fuck off and continue on as we were."

Corlys nodded. "I concur. The Targaryens are on the back foot and they know it. Now is the time to press our advantage."

"Press our advantage to what end Corlys?" Baela interjected then. "What exactly are you seeking? We have already defeated the Targaryens in the skies, razed the Stormlands and Dorne, seized the Stepstones and soon the Summer Isles. Driftmark and the Hook are worthless now, what could you possibly be after that we cannot compel the Targaryens to give us for free now that they are suing for peace?"

Corlys took a deep breath before he answered. "The elimination of House Targaryen as a dragonriding house, to ensure a monopoly on dragon power for our family and ensure that they could never threaten or kill any of us ever again. We would continue the war with our decisive advantage, kill the remaining Targaryen dragons and seize whatever eggs they have, and then leave the continent to its fate."

Baela was about to protest before Jace spoke. "An ambitious plan. Tell me how you would go about it."

Their son nodded, pleased at his father's apparent approval. "The Targaryens are all holed up in King's Landing right now, and it's because they're scared, and they should be. Between the ten of us we have nine dragons and we can bring that back up to ten if Uncle Daeron claims one of the dragons in the pit in Myr. Whatever injuries our dragons took in the Battle Above Bloodstone has been healed for the most part so they're ready to fight.

"Against our force, the Targaryens can muster only three dragons, Vhagar, Stormcloud, and Syrax, with the latter being half blind. Five at most if they are willing to deploy Aelyx and Maelor to war on Aegarax the Cannibal and Nightfyre. We outnumber them almost two to one. The path forward is simple, we continue spreading the firestorm and burn as much of Westeros as we can until the Targaryens have no choice but to sally forth and face us and when they do we surround and kill them. After that we can mop up the remaining dragons in King's Landing at our leisure, they're all ridden by children," Corlys said menacingly.

Baela looked at him in horror. She had failed her son she realized. By raising him for war ever since he was ten years old, they had stripped all of his innocence and mercy away from him, leaving only a ruthless and cold hearted young man in his place. A man who thought only of the end results and never stopped to consider what the price of victory would be. A man so much like both of his grandfathers.

"Are you proposing that we eliminate the Targaryen children then?" Jace asked. "Jaehaera, Gaemon, Elaena, and Vaella as well?"

"If we have to," Baelor answered in Corlys' place.

Rhaena broke then as she rebuked her son. "Do you not understand what you speak of? Vaella is six years old! Elaena nine and Jaehaera ten. Even Gaemon is but eleven and Maelor and Aelyx not much older at three and ten! The two of you are proposing the murder of your cousins! Of children."

"And they'll grow!" Corlys retorted. "Grow up to become threats who will threaten our children, our families! For the sake of House Velaryon, the Targaryens and their dragons must die. All of them if need be."

Baela did not even know what to respond to that. Daeron spoke up before she could. "You were close with Aemond once weren't you Corlys?" he asked.

"A long dead friendship. What is the relevance of this?"

"But even still, deep down you still feel some slight measure of fondness for him don't you? A wish that in a better world your friendship might never have been forced to end. You understand when I say that doing something like this is not done lightly. Murdering an old friend by your own hand, estranged or not, it will change you. Murdering children, your younger cousins that you once played with and adored will change you. And I can promise you that you will not like the person you become in the end."

"It's moot at this point isn't it? I took part in murdering my own grandfather. Aided and abetted in the deaths of my uncle and cousins. The blood is already on my hands, what's a little more kinslaying when we are all drowning in it already?" he said bitterly and Baela could not help but feel some relief that her son had not been wholly deprived of his humanity.

"But not like this. That day was self-defense. The Targaryens were going to attack us imminently and we protected ourselves. Now it's different. We hold all the cards and the Targaryens are on the back foot and suing for peace. Most of them are children. Will you be able to stomach having it on your conscience knowing that you unnecessarily continued an already won war just to kill children? Not to mention are you willing and able to bear the costs to do so?" Daeron said darkly.

"Speak frankly Uncle," Corlys demanded.

"The course of action that you are determined to pursue, putting aside the moral qualms of murdering more of our kin and children at that, will exact its price on our family. Are you prepared to pay that price? Dragon battles are inherently chaotic and unpredictable. You all saw for yourselves that even with all of our advantages, things still went wrong. All of our numbers, our magic, and our Valyrian steel, and still we took casualties. Uncle Luke and Morghul died, my dragon died. And that was fighting three Targaryens.

"How many of us will die if we face five Targaryen dragons? Vhagar and the Cannibal of all beasts among them? Who will give up their lives next? Are you in line to put your own life on the chopping block Corlys? Or will you watch Daemon, Baelor, Serra, and Jaenara die for your mission? Will you torture your own mother and aunt further and force them to kill even more of the family that birthed them?

"What about your aunt Laena and your father? What about me? Am I to be reduced to nothing more than a pawn in your game, forced to risk my life again and claim another dragon when I have not even mourned the first simply for your grand ambition? Have you forgotten that the three supposed spare dragons in Myr are not even seven years old and hardly fit for battle? Or mayhaps you would even recall Rhaelle and the others from Velos and overwhelm the Targaryens with sheer numbers? Will they be the next sacrifices for your war? You have not considered any of this. I know you haven't. I can see it in your eyes."

Daeron's words had made Corlys' eyes widen as he hesitated and Baela knew that she had to seize the opportunity.

"Corlys, isn't it time for all of this to end?" she begged him. "Hasn't there been enough death already? You want to risk the lives of the family we still have left and all for what? To kill children? To kill more of our kin senselessly? Have you no care for me at all that you would do this? Throw away yours and Daemon's lives just so you can kill more of my family without any need? Do you know how it felt when I chose Daemon over the brother I watched grow up? When I murdered him with my own hands? And now you want me to make that choice nine more times?"

"Just five," Corlys choked out. "Jaehaera, Gaemon, Elaena, and Vaella need not perish as long as they don't resist."

"And what if they do? Can you imagine standing by and watching as some outsiders slaughter your dragon and your family? What if the Targaryens are desperate enough that they deploy them to war as well? What if they are so afraid of us they refuse to sally forth from King's Landing no matter what we do until we have no choice but to attack the city itself and face all nine of them at once?

"We would win, that's for certain. Nine or even ten war hardened dragonriders with magic and Valyrian steel armor against a force made up mostly of child riders? It's not in question. But the price we pay for that victory will make it meaningless. Tell me would victory mean anything to you if Daemon died? Or Baelor? Or your father and I or any one of us here?" Baela countered.

"And what about when they come back for more in ten years? Seek to avenge their losses and their damaged pride? In ten years every one of those Targaryen child riders will be adults and the threat of their nine dragons would be even greater than it is now! The risk is all the same isn't it?" Corlys fired back.

"Aye they will have nine adult dragonriders in ten years, and we will have nineteen. Mayhaps even twenty if your last remaining uncle can overcome his grief for his bondmate and claim another dragon by then. We will still outnumber the Targaryens two to one and we will be in a much stronger position than we are now, having learned from our mistakes and strengthened and rejuvenated our minds and spirits."

"You're just saying that because you don't want to kill more Targaryens! They will recover and strengthen as well! For all we know they'll figure out how we won that day, get glass candles and magic of their own! We have to end it now, while we still can!"

"And is that so wrong!?" Baela demanded. "Did you kill your brother and your cousin that you loved with your own hands? Tell me please how you would feel if you had to kill Daemon and Baelor right now! You can't possibly understand so shut up!" Baela finally snapped.

As she struggled to hold in her tears, her son finally relented, just a little, his tone softening as he spoke. "I'm sorry Mother. But it's us or them. You're right. I don't understand how you feel, and I'm sorry that it came to this. I really am."

"Is it?" Jace finally spoke again.

"What?" Corlys asked, confused.

"Is it really us or them?" he clarified. "I've wondered for so long you know, looking back on our history, on everything that led us here. And I realized that it was precisely this kind of thinking that got us into this mess to begin with. Unnecessarily at that.

"We didn't fight this war to take the Iron Throne. We fought it for independence, for freedom from Targaryen oversight constraining our actions in Essos and threatening our people. There is no real need for us to exterminate the enemy wholesale as one would the other claimants in a war for the throne. Once we cut off all ties and entanglements with Westeros and settle our respective spheres of influence, there would be minimal reason for us to clash again once the bad blood caused by this war has settled. If we make peace the right way, in fifty years' time, the Targaryens will not care any longer to attack us, not when they have their own realm in the west to do with as they please and we ours in the east.

"Mercy is the privilege of the strong and we are strong, stronger than the Targaryens ever will be. We proved that in the eyes of the entire world that day and it will never be forgotten. Whether we fight the Targaryens now or in ten, twenty, or even thirty years, we will win. We have surpassed them to a point they can no longer catch up, and we are always going to be better than them in everything and in every way. More dragons, more wealth, superior armies and fleets, better governance, a fanatically loyal people, and even if they manage to learn some magic of their own, we have all the lore of Gogossos and we will always be ahead of them.

"So why then should we risk our lives and risk losing more of our family when the Targaryens may very well be willing to give us anything that we could reasonably want without us needing to fight for it? We have won, our victory is complete, let us not risk making it bitter by unnecessarily grasping for more than we can hold."

Jace's words surprised Baela if she was being honest. She had thought that he would make 'the hard but necessary decision' and side with their son's plan to permanently remove the threat of the Targaryens to their family. Had Luke's death changed Jace more than she had noticed, lost as she had been in her own grief and guilt?

"And what if this peace offer is just a ploy for time to regroup and prepare? What if the Targaryens come back for more? What then?" Corlys asked.

"Then we destroy them. Simple as that. The secrets of the glass candles have been preserved and even if they learn of them they cannot surpass us. The same goes for fire magic and they certainly do not have the technology or the materials to make Valyrian steel armor and parachutes and the like as we have. Nor will they ever have enough dragons or the doctrines and training needed to match us. And this is assuming that they do come back for more. That is no guarantee.

"The fact they are suing for peace indicates to me that they won't. It proves that we have put fear into their hearts, a terrifyingly strong fear that is overcoming their need for vengeance. Will that fear truly lessen enough for them to dare try again in a few decades when the gap in our dragon numbers and mastery of magic has grown even larger? Especially when there are no true conflicts of interests otherwise? We have more female dragons than them after all, and far more eggs and children to create larger and larger successive generations of dragonriders, we will surely maintain the lead.

"But don't take my word for it. Take theirs. Daemon, Jaenara, Serra, the three of you have been awfully quiet this whole meeting and I am curious of your opinion. You are the ones that will be fighting these battles after all, so your opinions have more merit than either mine or Corlys'. Tell us, would you rather face the Targaryens tomorrow and the certainty that some of us will die in the fight or the possibility that they will attack again in a decade or longer when we are stronger than we are now and the much lower possibility that some of us will die destroying them once and for all then?" Jace asked.

"The latter Father," Daemon answered reluctantly under the gaze of his elder brother. "I've learned my lesson. I don't want to fight again if I don't have to. Not like that, I don't want to go back to that. It was the most terrifying experience of my life. I cannot forget the feeling of Tyraxes' flame slamming into Saffyre's chest and sending us both spiraling, the knowledge that Uncle Jaehaerys was seconds away from killing us both if Mother hadn't intervened. I never want to feel that again, never want to dread that next time I won't be so lucky."

"I agree," Jaenara said. "I would take the chance that they may force us to fight again in the future when we are stronger over the certainty that we will have to fight again now if we continue the war. Maybe Corlys can't understand that sentiment as much as the rest of us do when he rides the largest dragon in the family," she said with a narrowed glance at her cousin.

Serra was the most hesitant however, making her opinion known before the pleading and watchful eyes of both her mother Rhaena and her elder brother Baelor. "I would prefer not to fight again and kill more of our family if we don't have to," she said meekly under the pressure.

"So that's it then? We just give up because we're scared of what could happen? What about my father? Or our grandparents? Where is the vengeance for everything we have lost?" Baelor demanded hotheadedly.

"Do not speak of loss when you understand so little of it," Rhaena hissed at her son. "I loved your father. Can you imagine what it's like knowing that my own father killed him and died for it? That I had to kill my own cousin, someone who was once a sister to me, and my beloved little brother? Aid and abet in the deaths of his son and my other cousin? We have all lost something here, what is the meaning of avenging our losses if we must lose even more of our family to do it? Do you think your father would want you to die to avenge him Baelor?"

"Vengeance." Jace laughed bitterly all of a sudden, making all eyes turn to him. "What is there left to avenge? We have taken the Stepstones, our armies are conquering the Summer Isles as we speak. Dorne and the Stormlands lay in ruins beneath our wake. And seven Targaryens are dead. I avenged Luke's death, I burned his killer with my own hands, I tore apart his dragon with Corlys. And my parents? They chose to die like legendary heroes for their own pride and stubbornness rather than live for our family. If they had fought with us at Bloodstone, maybe Luke, Morghul, and Terrax need not have died at all. There is nothing left to avenge.

"If anything, do all of you not think the Targaryens are the ones more deserving and righteous in their pursuit of vengeance? Let us be honest with ourselves, we are not blameless in any of this. Did we not plot to kill them all in their sleep with assassins? Massacre half of them in one day? If they can overcome their pride and their need for vengeance for a chance to end all of this senseless death, why can't we?"

The entire table fell silent then, stewing on Jace's words. Baela saw that Corlys and Baelor looked thoughtful and contemplative, if the latter was only begrudgingly so. Finally, after a time, Jace continued.

"Make no mistake. We will have our pound of flesh. We will take anything that we could reasonably want from the Targaryens; reparations, the Summer Isles, the Stepstones, and so much more. And if the Targaryens choose to accept those losses, we will have taken everything we wanted without having to fight again. And if they don't, then we end this once and for all and destroy them as Corlys and Baelor so enthusiastically argued for. There's no harm in giving them the choice to accept peace on those terms or not. At the very least, it will remove a small part of the blood on our hands knowing that we gave them one last chance to avert their own destruction."

Slowly Corlys nodded and Baelor followed suit. "I can accept that I suppose. Thank you for explaining this all to us Father. I understand now."

Jace looked at him. "I don't think you truly do. Not yet. But you will one day, and you'll thank me for it."

There was a little more discussion after that on what conditions for the truce they should give the Targaryens in their reply and what terms they would enforce upon them at the peace meeting. When that had concluded, Jace adjourned the meeting and everyone slowly walked out of the room. As Baela made to leave however, Jace called out to her.

"Baela. Please stay back a little longer."

As she turned back into the room, she saw a book lying on the table. "What's that?" she asked.

"The last volume of the memoirs my father gave me before he left. It has… I suppose you could call it his and my mother's apology for that stunt they pulled. It's only the first few pages of the book though. I don't even want to know what's in the rest of it right now to be honest," Jace said bitterly and Baela nodded in understanding.

The few remaining people of Driftmark had borne witness to the events on Driftmark and despite it only having been a month, whispers of it had already reached the Triarchy and given birth to a legendary tale. One that they knew was at least in part true from what their Conches, their glass candles, and Daeron and the others from the Driftmark squadron had told them.

Despite there still having been time and a chance for them to join Luke and the others on the flight south, her goodparents had stubbornly chosen to remain on Driftmark until the last moment before they had personally destroyed Spicetown and High Tide in time to greet the Targaryens on a hill overlooking the destruction. It was an image that was already being immortalized in the songs and tales and she had heard that there were rumors that a number of paintings and tapestries had already been commissioned by some wealthy patrons of that scene and the events that preceded and followed it.

The Lord and Lady of High Tide had remained defiant even as the flames consumed the eponymous castle behind them by their own command. Cousin Rhaenys and her mother had greeted her goodparents on that hill and what words were exchanged then, only they still knew. The Battle Above Driftmark would commence soon after.

In the skies above High Tide, the Sea Snake and the Seastar would do battle against five dragons with naught but their own beloved dragon Dreamfyre and their hands to conjure red jets of flame. They had twirled and twisted through the air epically, firing off jets of blood-red fire for the Targaryen riders and taking them by surprise.

They had blinded Syrax in one eye in that exchange before slaying the youngest and weakest of the Targaryen dragons, Vermax and his rider Visenya with the other four distracted by the strange magical flames. After that they had grappled with Meleys until the two dragons had fallen hundreds of feet to the white beaches of Driftmark below, leaving Meleys crippled to die from her injuries within a week and Cousin Rhaenys, burnt, broken, and dragonless.

Corlys and Viserra had not long enjoyed their victory over Rhaenys however, for Vhagar, Syrax, and Stormcloud had then descended and torn them apart. Even in death however, their legend continued, for their bodies and Dreamfyre's were said to have fallen into the sea near if not directly beside or on top of where the Sea Snake had been sunk and there in the shallows off the coast of High Tide was the final resting place of Corlys and Viserra Velaryon, entwined and holding hands in the intermingled wreckage and bones of the famous Sea Snake and Blue Queen. Or so the singers claimed.

So passed Corlys the Sea Snake and Viserra Seastar the Sea Dragon, Archon and Princess of the Triarchy, Lord and Lady of the Tides, Master and Mistress of Driftmark. He was the finest seafarer the world had ever seen and she the most accomplished and talented dragonrider since Visenya herself.

Whatever the true story was, it had been an empty victory for House Targaryen when they had finally conquered Driftmark and slain the legendary Sea Snake and Sea Dragon, for the prize had been all but ruined. The island's population had almost entirely departed years earlier and Hull, Castle Driftmark, Spicetown, and High Tide had been all destroyed. It had cost them two dragons to take the island and it was a poisoned chalice at most.

High Tide and its silver towers and white marble walls had been hoped to be captured intact by the Targaryens who had desired it for themselves for even if its once fabled wealth had been long since removed the castle itself was still a thing of beauty and they resented its loss bitterly and cursed Corlys and Viserra for that final stubborn defiance. Her goodparents would be the last lord and lady of High Tide. The Targaryens could build a new castle on that hill and pretend it was High Tide but it would be only an impostor to the true castle that once stood there, remembered only as a memory, in songs and tales, paintings and tapestries.

Baela did not doubt that in the years to come Corlys and Viserra's legend would only grow as this tale reached more and more people and took on greater and greater life and splendor. It was the ultimate climax, a triumphant and glorious ending to their story, and one that would inspire generations to come. But those tales would say nothing of the children that they had selfishly left behind to pick up the pieces when they were gone.

Jace had a legend of his own now too. He had already been known as the Fearless ever since Gogossos and he had done great feats in the campaign for the Triunification but now the people spoke of him almost with the same reverence they gave his parents. Emperor they hailed him, even though he hadn't yet officially claimed the title and was still merely Archon. Jacaerys the Great they named him but Baela knew that for all of his ambition and newfound reputation and success, Jace would trade it all in a heartbeat to have Luke by his side again.

This new legend had extended even to Tessarion who was now known as the Azure Empress. No longer a mere Princess and heir of the Blue Queen, she had surpassed her mother by slaying both Vermithor and Silverwing though conveniently the singers left out that she had had help against both of those dragons. Singers always did that, leave out things that didn't fit the ridiculous tales they spun, stripping away all the grief and pain of war and leaving behind only the pretensions of glory and meaningful deaths.

For a while they both stewed in the deafening silence before Jace broke it.

"You know it occurs to me now that I never apologized did I?" he said suddenly. "I lost my parents, but so did you. I am sorry Baela, for Daemon's death."

She smiled bitterly. "No you're not. You hated him for decades. He killed Luke. You're not sorry he's dead."

Jace smiled grimly in turn. "No I suppose I'm not. But I am sorry for the hurt that it caused you. I'm sorry that it came to this, that I had to be the one who killed him, that you had to kill your own brother and cousin. I did a very cruel thing to you all those years ago when I lied to you and trapped you on this path and I am very, very sorry for that now that its bitter destination has finally been reached, though I know no amount of apologies can ever truly undo the hurt me and mine have done to you."

Baela resisted the urge to cry yet again. "I'm sorry too. For hitting you and screaming at you. I was just so, so angry. So full of guilt and grief that I didn't know what to do with myself. I hate you, but I also love you. I hate myself more than I hate you and I still love you more than I hate myself even after everything. I just can't stop thinking, maybe we could have avoided all of this, your parents' deaths, Luke's death, Daeron's dragon's death, and my having to personally kill my own brother, if I had only been brave enough to let you go through with the assassinations when we could have."

Jace shook his head. "No Baela. That way lies only madness. Who knows what the future could have held if we had done that? We can't say for sure it would have succeeded completely and we wouldn't have been forced to do it this way anyway. And don't tell me you wouldn't have resented me all the same. Regret is useless. And I have more than enough to drown in it. If I look back, I am lost. I can no sooner blame you for Luke's death than I can my own parents for not coming with him to Bloodstone. It's just pointless ultimately, dead and done."

"I also wanted to thank you, for what you said earlier. I don't know if we could have convinced Corlys and Baelor without your support," Baela said earnestly.

"I didn't do it just for you. I wanted to make you happy, but it was for myself as well and for Corlys. I didn't want to lose Corlys or anyone else in our family in this damn war. I wanted to spare our son from making the same mistakes that I and my father both did and losing someone he loved because of it."

Baela nodded in acknowledgement, agreeing with her husband. She pulled him into a tight embrace for the first time since that day and rested her head on his heart, drawing comfort from the sound of his heartbeat. So many were dead, but Jace was still alive. As he ran his hand through her hair to caress her back gently, Jace continued.

"I can't help but wonder if I'm selfish though. If he's right and everything I told him to convince him otherwise aren't just the lies I tell to convince myself. Am I just kicking the pebble down the street for the next generations to deal with so I don't have to suffer more loss and pain while I still live? Does that make me a bad person?"

"If our son is right in the end then yes I suppose you are," Baela said bluntly. "But I'm right there with you aren't I? We're both damned already."

Jace laughed darkly before he shook his head. "What a pair we make huh? The husband who killed his wife's father and lied to her for years to trap her into helping him do it. The wife who hit her husband over and over again and may have inadvertently caused the death of his brother. The parents who suspect they are simply delaying the problem on purpose so that they don't have to deal with more loss than they already have."

"In the end we're only human. Weak and incapable of staying strong even when we want to be," Baela said as she began desperately kissing his neck and pulling off his clothes with a growing need swelling within her.

"Baela…" he said hesitantly. "Neither of us are in any state of mind for this. I don't think it's a good idea."

"I don't care," she replied simply. "I just need to feel something, something that isn't this inescapable grief and agonizing guilt. For just a little while, please, make me forget everything," she begged him.

He kissed her then, pressing his tongue firmly into her mouth before he lifted her onto the table and pushed her down, kissing his way south before he found it and began his ministrations. When he finally entered her and took her right there on their council room table, it was the roughest they had ever done it and Baela loved it. For a few short precious moments, the pain and the pleasure let her forget everything else that had gone wrong in her life.

___________________________________

Gael

"What is the meaning of this?" Aemond demanded. "Why have the Velaryons sent a reply to a supposed letter of ours asking for conditions for a truce and peace meeting? I don't remember sanctioning any such letter!"

As the new Prince of Dragonstone with his father's death and Prince Regent and Protector of the Realm with his grandmother's incapacitation, all authority to issue such a letter did indeed rest with Aemond but Gael and her daughter Helaena had gone behind his back to get Rhaenys' signature for it anyway. They had no choice but to do so. The path Aemond was intent on taking them on would only guarantee their destruction.

"You may not have Aemond, but the Queen did," Gael replied coolly.

There were only five of them at this meeting, herself, Helaena, Aemond, as well as Aelyx and Maelor. The last truly capable riders of House Targaryen. Only five out of thirteen they had had only a month ago. If things were truly desperate they could call upon Jaehaerya, Gaemon, Elaena, and Vaella but when all of them were less than twelve years old, Gael really quite doubted how useful they really would be.

"The Queen is incapacitated right now. I am her regent and all matters of state go through me. And even if she wasn't, I think I know my own grandmother well enough to know that she would never sanction this absurdity. You've forged a letter from the Queen of the Iron Throne Grandmother Gael, were you anyone else I'd charge you with high treason for this!" Aemond shouted.

"Will you charge your own mother as well then?" Gael retorted, causing Aemond to turn to Helaena with a betrayed look.

"Mother? You were in on this? Why?" he pleaded.

"Why? Because I still have children to protect, children who seem all too inclined to throwing themselves into harm's way!" Helaena replied.

Maelor at least had the decency to look ashamed and sheepish at his mother's words but Aemond was defiant. "The Velaryons murdered my father, my grandfather, my uncle, my aunt, and my cousins and they crippled my grandmother! They took Blackfyre, Dragon's Wroth, Dawn, and the bodies of Sunfyre, Vermithor, and Tyraxes and parade them around as trophies! They burned the Stormlands and Dorne, put traps in Stonedance and Hull to dishonorably kill our soldiers, and invaded the Stepstones and the Summer Isles! And you want to make peace with them?"

Furiously he drew out Dark Sister from where it rested on his hip and threw it on the table with a loud thud, the sharp blade cutting into the wood as it landed. "There is the only peace I mean to give the Velaryons Mother."

"Are you insane Aemond? You'll die! And you'll get us all killed in your foolish quest! Don't let your rage blind you from making the wise decision!"

"Sanity died a long time ago! There's no sanity to be had left in the world, there hasn't been since that day," Aemond replied grimly.

No one needed clarification on what that day was. There could only be one 'that day' now. The day the Dance of the Dragons started, the day they had lost everything. Seven members of their house had died in one day, and seven dragons with them. An eighth dragon had followed a week later from the injuries caused on that day and Gael wondered if the eighth rider might soon join the death toll.

"There's nothing left to live for anymore," Aemond said bitterly. "All that's left to us is vengeance."

"Don't be stupid," Helaena rebuked her son. "What vengeance? They have nine dragons! Maybe even ten if Daeron Velaryon claims another mount! We are not avenging anyone! If we continue the war, we will die for nothing!"

"At least we could bring some of the bastards down with us," Aemond said morosely.

"Not enough. Not nearly enough to make a difference when there are ten more of them waiting in the east to grow up and replace whoever we kill. We will get ourselves all killed and leave the Velaryons to have unchallenged control of the entire world. Is that what you want Aemond? To let them have a complete and utter victory?"

"It's the future I thought was sure to happen ever since we realized what really happened on that day. I'd kill us all if I were them," he admitted, downcast.

They had eventually concluded that the Velaryons had won such a brutal victory on that day because their surviving spies had successfully sent them the details of their war plans before breaking out their imprisoned comrade and exposing themselves. Larys Strong had since purged the city of all remaining Velaryon spies but it was little comfort after that day had left them at the tender mercies of House Velaryon.

For weeks now they had all been huddled in King's Landing, terrified and waiting for messages of nine (or even ten if Daeron the Daring deigned to claim another mount) Velaryon dragons swooping up from the south to finish them off. Instead word had come of how the Velaryons had destroyed much of Dorne and the Stormlands, leaving Gael with an even more bitter taste in her mouth knowing that Summerhall was gone.

Nonetheless despite their apparent detour to burn down the Stormlands and Dorne, Helaena and her had known that it was only a matter of time before the Velaryons turned their attention to King's Landing and either tried to entice them to sally forth to their deaths or just outright attacked the city, casualties be damned. And so they had acted, writing a letter suing for peace and getting Rhaenys to sign it in her delirious milk of the poppy addled state so that they could directly bypass Aemond who they knew would oppose it for sure and present it to the Small Council as an accomplished feat.

What was the harm in trying they had thought? If it failed they wouldn't lose anything, but if they succeeded they might have a second chance. They had bet that the Velaryons would be willing to make a peace on their own terms and not risk losing anymore family members against their remaining nine dragons if they could get what they wanted without fighting and against all odds their bet had succeeded. Now they just had to make sure it stuck.

"I don't believe in gods, but this must be a miracle," Helaena replied to her son's words. "Perhaps my sisters have some love left for us somewhere in their twisted dark hearts."

"The same sisters who gleefully murdered Uncle Jaehaerys and Aunt Rhaenyra? I somehow doubt that," Aemond retorted.

"The results speak for themselves don't they?" Helaena shouted.

"They could be faking it, trying to get us to lower our guard," Aemond said.

"What would even be the point of doing that when they hold such a dominant advantage over us? And even if it's true, we'd die all the same won't we? At least if we proceed with the peace meeting we have a chance of coming out of this alive."

"And let the Velaryons get away with everything they want after everything they have done for free?" Aemond demanded, enraged.

"Now you sound like your father," Helaena said.

"My father was a great man! And the Velaryons murdered him!"

"Your father was a fool," Helaena countered.

"Don't you dare insult my father!"

"He was my husband! I'll insult him as much as I damn well please! Aegon was a fool who happily led us into this war alongside his mother, obsessed with the Velaryons unto the end until it killed him! And I loved him despite it all but he's gone now and I can't bear to see you follow in his footsteps Aemond! I just can't. You're not even six and ten yet, you have a whole life ahead of you. I don't want you to throw it all away for a revenge you can never truly achieve.

"Do you think I don't want revenge as well Aemond? My father also died if you've forgotten. The Velaryons murdered my husband. My own sisters killed my brother and my cousin while their eldest children were slaughtered. But we can't always get what we want and we Targaryens have a hard time accepting that. This time we have to. We don't have a choice. The alternative is death for our whole family. You might want to die but do you truly want to see Maelor, Jaehaera, and the others die for your folly as well?"

Before Aemond could respond to his mother's words, the doors to the meeting room burst open. Rhaenys, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms was pushed into the room on her wheelchair by the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Criston Cole. Gael and Helaena exchanged a glance. If Rhaenys was finally lucid, she could undo all of their work so far. She would have cried at the thought if she had any more tears left to give after that day.

Rhaenys had an unamused look on her face that was soon broken by a grimace of pain. Even now a month after that day, the burns all over the right side of her face were unsightly to look upon and Gael knew they must hurt like the seven hells. She, Helaena, and Aemond had their own less severe burns from the Battle Above Driftmark. The accursed magic flames the Velaryons must have learned from the lore of Gogossos left behind injuries that were slow to heal.

"I have heard a most curious story from the Master of Whisperers. He claims that my signature was taken by deceit while I was addled by the milk of the poppy to approve a letter to Tyrosh requesting conditions for a truce and peace meeting. Do any of you know anything about this?" Rhaenys asked.

Aemond turned to look at Gael and her both accusingly then. Seeing no point in hiding it, Helaena and her both confessed to their crime. Rhaenys listened calmly before simply saying, "Why?"

"Why?" Gael said. "For the same reasons we told Aemond. Because it's our only chance at survival after you and your son led us blindly on the path to war for decades! We are five against nine. Even if we brought the children in we would still be at a disadvantage and they have ten more children of their own just waiting in the wings in the east! The war is over Rhaenys. Now it's just a question of whether House Targaryen will live to see the aftermath or not."

Rhaenys was offended. "I led you blindly? Who was it that vehemently opposed all arrangements with the Targaryens for years? Who was it that antagonized the Velaryons at every opportunity, sabotaged my father's pacts and betrothals that could have reined them in and given us peace? Who swayed Aegon and myself to see your side and then cowered out when you realized how it would affect your own daughters like a hypocrite!? It was you Gael. You and Daemon! Don't you dare put all the blame on me when you have more than your own fair share in this!"

"You're right," Gael admitted then, shocking Rhaenys into silence. "I was too blinded by my own pride, my anger at Viserra, my resentment that even unto the end my parents loved her more than me. I should have supported Aemon and Baelon when they tried to make peace the first time. Even after the twins married, there were still ways this could have been resolved peacefully. Daemon and I were just too stubborn to let them happen, foolishly believing that war wouldn't truly happen or we'd win easily if it did. We were short-sighted and stupid, and Daemon and the others paid the price for it."

The mood at the table sank like a stone then as they all drowned in their grief. Rhaenys opened her mouth gingerly to try and speak then but Gael beat her to it.

"It's too late for us to change the past Rhaenys. But the future is still unwritten. The Velaryons have shown us mercy. We'll all die anyway if it comes to a fight again. We have absolutely nothing to lose hearing out their demands at the very least," she said.

Rhaenys sank into her seat then, a defeated expression on her face and a thousand regrets in her eyes. "No. I suppose there isn't."

"So the truce stands then?" Aemond said resignedly.

Rhaenys turned to their grandson. "The request for a truce was signed and sealed by my own hand was it not? It stands," she said begrudgingly.

Once upon a time, Gael would have smiled seeing Rhaenys finally swallow her pride and concede something to her but after that day, all she could do was nod curtly in approval.

"Very well then. I hope you are prepared for the humiliation though Grandmothers," Aemond warned.

"Why?" Rhaenys frowned. "What location did they choose for the meeting?"

Gael was wondering too. She had not gotten the chance to read the Velaryons' reply to their letter since Aemond had taken it first.

"The ruins of Storm's End," Aemond answered in disgust.

Notes: