Chapter 21: Fallout

108 AC

Bloodstone, Stepstones

Velaryon Tent

"I will have answers right now else heads will roll," Rhaenys angrily barked at us. She was positively shaking in fury and it was only a matter of time before she throttled someone. Then again losing your uncle and nearly losing your husband tends to have that effect on people, especially on a hot-blooded Targaryen-Baratheon with a dragon.

"Mind if I ask whose heads?" Daemon weakly jested as he nursed his receding black eye.

"Don't tempt me Daemon," Rhaenys growled with her fist tightly clenched and ready for a swing.

"What questions?" I slowly asked as I checked my empty goblet. I winced as the pain coming from my thigh flared up.

"How the fuck did a siege that was supposed to be a walk in the meadow become a bloodbath that has taken my uncle's life and nearly that of my husband's?" Rhaenys demanded with gritted teeth.

"Shut your harping will you, Corlys' fever broke and the Maester clearly said that he will survive," Daemon waves it off.

A Corsair managed to slash Corlys' throat during the confusion of the battle, luckily for Corlys, he made it through thanks to the timely intervention of his guards. Even then, Corlys' life was on a knife's edge, after two weeks of high fever and the day after a distraught and frantic Rhaenys arrived on Meleys did the fever finally break.

Talk about true love.

"My uncle is dead, thanks to your negligence and nothing is going to bring him back, you idiots," Rhaenys responds hotly.

Boremund lost his life when around ten pirates barged into his tent whilst he was still recovering from his leg injury. But the Lord of Storm's End was no ordinary man, he managed to single-handedly kill all of his assailants but not before being mortally wounded. He died in the hands of his grief-stricken son who was too late to help. The eighteen-year-old Borros flew into a black rage following that during which he rallied the Royalist army and countered the pirate attack and what resulted was a complete butchery of the pirates with no prisoners taken.

As for Daemon and I, the two dragon riders, the leaders of the said expedition to the Stepstones, the Destroyers of Myr, we were too busy in a vicious brawl with each other to bother with the pirate attack. It was only after the Crabfeeder himself entered our tent did we realize how fucked up we were. Before the Crabfeeder could take advantage of our position and kill us, Daemon and I managed to set aside our fight to take care of him. Turns out that the Crabfeeder earned his place as the leader of his armada with blood and was one of the toughest opponents I had ever faced.

It was a rather uneven fight, he was well armed and armored and had a bloodlust of a man who had nothing to lose while we had the desperation to save our hides with the lack of preparedness added to being freshly injured from our brawl with no armor and with two Valyrian steel swords.

After a few minutes of fierce and desperate fighting, the Crabfeeder managed to smash his war hammer into my thigh which caused me to fall over in pain, and before he could follow that up with a fatal smash on my unprotected head, Daemon saved me by slicing his head off.

But the Crabfeeder turned out to be a wily bastard, he had ordered his men to cut the ropes holding up our pavilion while also setting the tent on fire from outside, all the while we were fighting inside.

By the time Daemon and I realized that something was wrong, the burning pavilion began to fall on us. Daemon managed to drag me out of the burning tent before I nearly succumbed to the smoke.

All the while our dragons feeling our distress turned their anger on the men fighting down below as they began killing and burning indiscriminately before they were calmed.

As for Daemon's targets, the Hightower cousins were not in their tents when the Crabfeeder attacked, they had gone to inspect the repairs of a damaged Hightower ship which helped them to escape the carnage while other prominent Lords and Heirs of the Reach lost their lives in the attack. Lords Redwyne, Peake, Florent, Fossoway, and numerous others were either killed or injured.

The blame for the attack and oversight that caused it was tossed around between the Reachmen, Daemon's sellswords, and the Crownlanders until it was decided that everyone takes the blame for being lax in their security as every faction suffered casualties.

A lucky escape for Daemon as no one other than me has figured out that Daemon was responsible while the soldiers who followed Daemon's orders in not sealing the postern gate happen to be dead.

How fucking convenient for him?

Before the siege, the entire army suffered around two and a half thousand casualties throughout the war and now in a single night, five thousand have been added to that number.

"What more can we tell you other than what others have already told you?" I asked Rhaenys with a sigh.

Rhaenys nodded resolutely "Yes, you are right, the story that I will be receiving will be the same as everyone has undergone the same ordeal except for the two of you, so you both can tell me what you were doing when the pirates attacked the camp because everyone agrees that you both were nowhere to be seen until Daemon pulled you out of a burning tent in the middle of the battle all the while your dragons went mad."

"We were fighting the Crabfeeder, what more do you need to know?" Daemon replies evenly.

"What nonsense!!" Rhaenys scoffs, "Are you trying to tell me that the Crabfeeder snuck into your tent before his men attacked the camp and you both were fighting him the whole time with nobody finding out,"

"Nobody with half a brain will believe that nonsense," She continued before Daemon cut in.

"Anybody with the other half of their brain will know not to question the word of two Targaryen princes," Daemon growled in response.

Mercifully before Rhaenys could respond with anger a squire entered, "My Lady, Lord Corlys is awake."

Rhaenys was torn between chewing us out and going to her husband's side but her love for her husband won out, she gave us a baleful look before leaving.

"This isn't over," She said as she turned to leave.

"As far as I am concerned it is," Daemon replied once she was out of earshot.

Two days later

The feast meant to celebrate our victory was a somber event or at least it was before the wine, mead, and ale began to flow for the common soldiers. For the nobles, however, the mood was much different with the tension being so thick that you could cut a knife through it.

A campaign that was meant to unite Westeros against a common enemy and to heal divisions of the Great Council has now backfired with new tensions and new grudges being made.

The Reachmen hate the Crownlanders, the Crownlanders hate the Reachmen, the Stormlanders hate them both and everyone hates the Sellswords.

Still, everyone was civil and the feast went on without incident since everyone was desperate to leave these godforsaken islands for good. Except for Daemon, who will remain in the Stepstones with a few thousand sellswords while builders, traders, and craftsmen from the Seven Kingdoms will be brought to settle the place and make it economically viable.

I will be one of the last to leave while the Stormlanders and the Velaryons will depart first, all the while Daemon and I have earned Borros' undying disdain for not being there when the pirates attacked the camp which took his father's life.

And to add to it all, a couple of prominent Stormlanders were killed when Gaelithox and Caraxes went on a rampage in our absence which got us no favors from the Stormlanders.

After a few minutes of poking at my food, I looked up to see a messenger arrive and hand Daemon a couple of letters. I noticed that one of the letters was sealed in red wax with the Targaryen sigil. Daemon read the letters while I dismissed the messenger before he could lash out at the poor guy.

After a while, he fisted the letter and threw it away before turning to the second letter.

After reading it, he turned to me and said, "The Volantene emissaries will arrive in a sennight,"

I nodded, it was expected that they would arrive and then I looked towards the letter from King's Landing and I asked, "And what does Viserys' letter say,"

"The usual nonsense that Viserys will write in his letters," Daemon said dismissively. "Along with the news that the Hightower bitch is with another child," He continued.

"I see," I said with a nod.

"He still refuses to acknowledge Visenya as a Targaryen," Daemon spat out.

Daemon and Lady Misery had their child right around the same time as the war began, the girl had inherited all the hallmarks of House Targaryen, with dark amethyst eyes and silver-gold hair. Since Westeros is not a safe place for any child of Daemon's, Mysaria and Visenya are currently housed in a manse in Pentos with a dozen servants and guarded by a hundred Unsullied, all of it graciously provided by the Prince of Pentos.

"Give it some time, when I return to King's Landing, I will talk with Viserys," I mollified him.

"Any word about Dacey and my sons, it's odd that I haven't gotten a letter yet," I asked thoughtfully, I had expected to receive Dacey's letter by now.

"I assume that it takes more time for a letter from Raventree Hall to arrive than it does for a letter from King's Landing," Daemon answered.

"I suppose," I said with an absent nod.

Before I left King's Landing, I sent Dacey and the twins away to Raventree Hall, without me to protect her, and in a court that was soon to be dominated by Otto, it was the best option in my eyes.

After a while, I got up from the table and excused myself while Daemon found himself a new whore.

A couple of days later

"Most of the Velaryon ships have departed along with the Stormlanders, the withdrawal for the Reachmen has now begun," The Captain reported.

"Very well, see to it that within two days, every last one is aboard a ship back home," I said turning to my Quartermaster who nodded and went about his work.

"How is your leg?" Daemon asked me as he approached.

"Better, far better," I replied.

The pain in my leg had subsided, and I was lucky that the Crabfeeder did not use the spiked part of his war hammer on me which could have easily pierced through and cut the femoral artery.

"Good, and how are your burns healing," He followed up.

"Better than I expected, the salve that the Healer concocted is working marvelously, and what about your burns, you got just as many as me," I asked.

"It's getting better," Daemon answered while holding back his grimace. For more than a decade, Daemon and I had partaken in tavern brawls, melees, tussles, duels, and our childhood roughhousing, but none of them had left a mark like this.

"Get ready, the Volantenes are about to arrive," Daemon then said before he left.

Yes, the Volantenes, were the last set of people we needed to negotiate with to ensure that our new acquisition did not burn to hell.

A few hours later

As the Volantenes entered our tent, I took a good look at each of them. Three emissaries represented three of the Triarchs, two of them were Elephants whilst the third was of the Tigers, it seems that the Tigers have managed to end their dry spell in the political sphere since the Battle of the Borderland the past decade.

All three of them wore gaudy jewels and fancy robes while Daemon and I wore our battle-worn armor. Each of them was escorted by a dozen slaves carrying them on three separate palanquins and yet another dozen slaves carrying several chests with each emissary having a squad of slave soldiers surrounding for protection. Around ten Volantene dromonds had docked in Bloodstone which leads me to wonder what they have in mind.

Daemon and I were sitting on the High Table surrounded by our bodyguards with three chairs situated below the High Table so that they know who exactly is in charge.

I can't believe that the descendants of Valyrian foot soldiers think that they are in any way equal to the Dragonlords.

We made sure that when they arrived Caraxes and Gaelithox flew past their ships to unnerve them and it clearly showed on their faces despite their attempts to school it.

The Herald of the Volantenes loudly announced as they entered, "Presenting before the Princes of House Targaryen, the highly esteemed representatives of Volantis, Vohasso Paenmyion, Belicho Nogarys, Donophinos Maegyr,"

The Maegyr guy looks rather familiar, I feel like I have seen him before but where? He is also looking at us with a weird intensity that I dislike.

"It is their great honor to meet Princes Daemon and Aegon Targaryen, the dragonlords of Westeros, the Destroyers of Myr, and now the Conquerors of the Stepstones,"

"Please sit, and have some refreshments, you must be tired after such a long journey," I politely begin and they accept without much fuss, I have a feeling that they expected this.

Then after a pause, Vohasso begins, "Volantis has long hated the spiteful Triarchy since its inception, an unholy alliance which met its rightful end at the flames of the dragons,"

Nogarys follows it with "The Old Blood of Volantis celebrated the fall of the Triarchy while all of Volantis rejoiced upon hearing that House Targaryen was to liberate the Stepstones from the vile Crabfeeder,"

"To show the gratitude of Volantis and to help set up a profitable and prosperous relationship between Volantis and the Iron Throne, the Old Blood have brought forth gifts to be given to the Three Targaryen brothers who have cast their shadow on both sides of the Narrow Sea and have etched themselves in the history of all nations,"

Vohasso claps and the slaves come forth with their chests which when opened reveal their treasures of gold bars, emeralds, amethysts, onyx, diamonds, rubies, sapphires, topaz, amber, ivory, pearl, and many other gemstones.

"This is but a fraction, there are many more gifts for you on our ships, we also bring gifted artisans, tradesmen, merchants, and many more to help settle the barren islands and help to make them a land of prosperity where east and west meet,"

Then the grandest gift, a freaking tiger, they carried up a cage that had a living tiger. This is the first time I have ever seen a tiger in this world, it wasn't very different from one seen in my old world. The tiger growled and roared at us before the handler whacked at him with his whip. That's all right, for a few minutes in the vicinity of the dragons will show him who the real boss is.

I have to say I am impressed, they left no stone unturned.

However my attention is taken by the Maegyr guy, he has been silent this whole time and is fixated on staring at us, and Daemon, in turn, has been staring at him.

Then I speak, "The Iron Throne sends its deepest thanks and appreciation to Volantis for such wonderful gifts and hopes that such a mutually beneficial relationship continues well into the future,"

"And in turn, we propose a treaty of friendship between the Iron Throne and Volantis, with a generous waiver of all tolls on Volantene ships in the Stepstones for seven years following which a tenth of all goods will be taxed."

Now of course this was all theater, Otto and Beesbury had been in talks with the Volantenes since day one of the war. The terms were already agreed upon, all that was needed was for us to ratify it in Viserys' name after winning the war. Ten percent was a generous deal, and that too after seven years of zero tolls, for the pirates would charge nearly half of all merchandise.

The paper for the treaty was brought, and we signed and stamped and ratified it and all was well.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Daemon finally asks Maegyr. So much for that, and thank goodness he said it before I had to.

"Don't you recognize me, I was there at the Great Council of yours seven years ago." He finally says.

"There were plenty of foreign dignitaries at the Great Council, why should we remember you?" Daemon responds as the realization sinks into me.

"I did not come as a dignitary but rather as a claimant," He replies with gritted teeth while the others look on in uneasy silence.

"What fucking claim does a Volantene have on the Iron Throne?" Daemon scoffs.

"The claim he got from his mother and the point of going to the Great Council was not to claim the Iron Throne but to show your Grandfather that his daughter and her children have done just fine and better without him," He angrily answers.

That's when I lean towards Daemon and whisper loud enough for everyone to hear, "The Whore"

That is when it clicks in Daemon.

Well, this is awkward.

"So how is your mother?" I ask just to increase the cringe because why not.

The guy gets angrier "She was right about the lot of you, you are all the same, once you have a dragon, everyone else is beneath you like dirt, even your blood,"

"Thank you for stating the obvious," Daemon drawled.

The man storms off after that while his compatriots rush to assure us that his behavior has nothing to do with Volantis and everything to do with himself.

And that is the end of what I call a productive day.

The Next Day

"My Prince, a letter from Raventree Hall," A messenger says as he enters my tent.

"About time," I say as I take the letter from his hands.

Dear Goodbrother

I write this letter with a heavy heart. I write after news of your victory reached me and it pains me to make your victory bitter, for after we received news of your victory in Bloodstone, Dacey caught a spring fever.

For the Gods can be cruel, one morrow brought rains, and the one after had brought gusty wet winds, and the next a chill.

On the fourth day, Dacey was too weak to leave her bed and she passed on the fifth.

The children are hale and healthy and are yet to understand what has happened to their mother.

Words cannot express my grief, so I pray that you depart those isles and come with all haste to Raventree Hall.

Lord Hosteen Blackwood