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Chapter 11 - The King of Dreams

Military Ranks of Westeros at the outset of the war of the Stepstones.

King/Queen (Supreme leader)

General (Commander of an army)

Battalion Lord (Commander of a Battalion, aka. A 1000 men, aka 10 companies)

Commander (Leader of a company, aka 100 men)

Captain (Leader of a platoon, aka 20 men.)

Sergeant (Rank subordinate to a Captain, chosen by the captain to Help maintain order and discipline in the platoon.)

Soldier (The lowest rank of the Army, given to all those who have enlisted)

---

14 Days before the first King's Council.

The piece of wood that allowed you to exit from the ship unto the pier slammed down on the wood with an audible "Crack".

Brandon let the sailors run off first and do all the things sailors did to fasten the ship and stabilize it.

Then he and his entourage stepped down the plank, and into King's Landing.

"Gods it smells," Tom complained loudly to the annoyed mumbling of the rest of the party. He wasn't wrong though. The disgusting smells hung in the air, like an invisible mist.

"I bloody hope the Castle smells better than this."

Brandon glanced up at said castle. The walls around weren't finished, so he could still easily see the top of the big hall rising above the half-finished walls.

It was an impressive sight. Still, the buildings on the docks were a complete mess. Not like Wintertown or White Harbor at all. It was a collection of buildings that had just spring up wherever with no rhyme or reason. Hell, from where he stood, he could count 17 buildings that had once been ships of some kind.

Gods this city was a wreck. And he'd only seen the outside of it so far. Who knew how awful this place was inside the cramped squalor of the city walls?

His men kept bickering in the background, while he focused on a new set of arrivals. Riders dressed in black.

"Everyone, be quiet," he order in a loud, though not reprimanding voice.

They shut up immediately, and he could feel, more so than any through any other sense that everyone of them with a sword rested their hands on the hilt. He did not. What would be the point here so far from home?

He had no power here beyond the 50 men around him. Aenys had thousands upon thousands of men loyal to him in this place. It was the reverse of how it had been at Winterfell.

Which was one of the main reasons why he had not wanted to come here.

The man in front of the horse escort ordered a halt before the group of Northmen, just before they would have crashed into them.

"Warden Stark." He greeted with a nod.

"So I am. Who are you?"

"Police Captain Nail, my lord. On behalf of King Aenys, welcome to King's landing, allow us to escort you to the keep."

---

12 Days before the King's Council

"This is garbage Rhaena."

Alayne wasn't cruel about it exactly, but she had never been one to hold back her words. One would have thought that would deter stupid young knights, but no. Instead, she attracted a number of smaller but far more persistent Arses than Rhaena herself did. Her blunt nature apparently had a charm with some boys. Well, that and her beauty.

She considered arguing but instead, sighed as she took back the letter, crumpled it up and threw it at the corner of her writing desk.

"I know. I'm just not good with written words."

And she wasn't. This was the 7th letter she had tried to compose to Larissa.

Writing down a letter inviting someone to the capital should not be this damned hard.

"You know Rhaena, I've said before that if you want Larissa to come to the capital so damned much, why not just get your father to offer her husband an office? That way not only would she come here, but she'd probably stay so long as he's here."

It was a good argument. One that she really wished she had an actual answer to.

She sighed, as she turned around the chair so she could actually look at Alayne as she talked.

The older girl was sitting on her bed with crossed legs, leaning her back towards the edge of the bed.

The position also gave her a full look at Alayne's naked body, which she was most certainly not complaining about.

Alayne was only 2 years older than her, but her body had already blossomed into wide heavy curves that made Rhaena's own body look like a boy's.

Another girl might have felt jealous or threatened by that stark difference. Not her, however.

She pointedly made certain to look Alayne in the eyes as she continued.

"I don't know Aly. I just feel like… Like I want her to come here cause she wants to you know, not because I'm ordering her here. Also, me and Tarth… Well, we aren't exactly friends you know?"

"Well, you aren't exactly planning on stealing his wife if she comes here. If you really do want to reignite your old friendship with Larissa, you'll have to be able to talk to Tarth at least."

"Yes but… What if he isn't treating her well?"

It was one of the reasons she had never gotten along with Tarth. She could never stop worrying that he was actually treating Lari horribly behind closed doors.

"He isn't. You know he isn't. Tarth isn't a bad man Rhaena, and even if he was, do you think he'd risk the wrath of house Velaryon by treating her badly?"

For a brief moment, she felt the urge to fight that statement just on principle. But it quickly burned out.

"Nooo… He's a decent knight," she admitted.

"Still, I really don't want Larissa to feel like she HAS to come here if she don't want to."

Truth be told, that was probably her biggest fear. That Larissa didn't WANT to see her again after everything. It was Rhaena's fault she had been forced into that marriage after all, after she had been a bit too open with her during a tourney.

Her mother had not approved, grandfather and father hadn't cared, and her brother's had teased her for it.

Larissa's damned brother Daemon had, however, and he had quickly arranged a marriage for her to one of the Tarth's of The Stormlands.

All because of a stupid couple of drinks and a kiss.

Larissa had been in tears when she left the city, and so had Rhaena. No one had stopped it. Not her father, not grandfather. No one.

It was a harsh lesson in how life truly worked. One she had learned from.

She had made certain to get close to lord Stokeworth and had made a point to personally showing Lord Royce the dragons when he had visited his daughter at court.

That she had not needed to bother with. Alayne was in the capital precisely for her not be available to men of the Vale. Her own father was not the only good parent in the world.

Frankly, though, she liked Lord Royce a lot more than she liked Stokeworth, what with the creepy way the hand would sometime look at Mother.

"Well, you'll have to-" Alayne was interrupted by a sharp rapping on the door.

She glared at it. She was pretty sure she had made it abundantly clear she didn't want to be disturbed.

"Who is it?" she asked loudly.

"Your Father." A loud melodious voice replied.

Alayne quietly swore. Then she jumped off the bed and quickly began to get dressed.

"Just give me 10 minutes and I'll be dressed for court."

Well, it could have been worse. He could have knocked an hour ago.

"No need. I wish to speak to you alone in your room. Just get dressed decently, and let Miss Royce gather all she brought before she goes. I'll wait."

Alayne swore again, and with a flushed face began to speedily gather up her things, with Rhaena helping her after she had quickly dressed herself with a set of pants and a jacket.

Finally, after they had gotten Alayne fully dressed in her clothes and all her stuffed packed, Rhaena unhooked the lock and opened the door.

Outside with a kindly smile stood her father. He was flanked by two of the Kingsguard and was also holding a long but not particularly thick box in his hands.

"Lady Royce." He gave a courteous nod to Alayne, who in turn curtsied, while also trying to pretend her face wasn't red like fire.

"Your Grace."

"Ser Baratheon, please escort the young lady to her rooms, and be certain nothing befalls her, and that you are not seen if possible.

"Yes." Her cousin replied simply.

After letting her pass, her father entered Rhaena's room and closed the door behind him after putting the box on her writing table. Then he locked the door, before sitting down on the chair Rhaena had so recently sat in.

Taking the hint, Rhaena plopped down on the edge of the bed facing him.

She tried desperately not to focus on the way her regular clothes were strewn about on the floor and cursed herself for not putting them properly while running about just a few minutes ago. Her father's eyes did not miss the way they had been carelessly thrown on the floor.

"So, I'm guessing things are going well with you and Alayne."

"Yes." She said, way too fast. Her face felt like it was a furnace. Dear god's this was humiliating.

Her father smiled wider at that.

"Glad to hear it. You'll need her in the coming days. And lady Stokeworth as well I suspect."

Then he got a more serious look on his face.

"Anyhow, I am not here to discuss your love life Rhaena. You and I have matters of state to discuss.

What? Oh… Right. That.

"I'm guessing you're here to talk about Aegon's marriage."

She had expected that ever since she had been baffled that Aegon had been betrothed to a Lannister lady.

It wasn't like she and Aegon had ever been officially been betrothed, but she had been raised with the idea they would be married from her youngest memories. It was something she had accepted years ago, so long as she didn't have to abandon her girls.

Thus it had come as a great shock to her as well as the entire court when father had announced that Aegon was betrothed to a Lannister, while Viserys would wed a Tully girl.

She had also expected a marriage for herself as well and had been dreading it for the past days. Now it would seem that fear was about to come true.

Her father promptly gutted that idea.

"No. Nor do I have any plans of setting you up with a husband if you're worried about that."

"Oh. Then… What did you want to talk about?"

She could practically feel the heat exit her face, so quickly had the tone changed.

"Well, to explain that I kinda need to go over some of my plans. You, of course, know that we're going to invade the stepstones by now. I haven't made much of a secret of that."

"Yeah, it's been all the castle ever talks about anymore."

It was pretty annoying, to be honest.

"Aye. What I have not been talking about is Your role in the upcoming war."

She blinked.

"Namely, it's about time that you are trained in our family business. Namely Draconic warfare."

"You want me to fight?"

She wasn't sure what she felt in that moment, beyond shock. Giddiness? Fear? Excitement?

"Yes. You'll be one of the three generals of the war. Namely, you'll lead our eastern Forces, and when I leave the Stepstones during the second part of the war, you'll be in charge of the entire army stationed there."

It was too much.

"Father… I've never even fought in the yard, I can't lead a company of knights, much less a gods damned army!"

Her father was undeterred.

"Of course not. Not the way you are now. Before you can do that, you shall need an education in the arts of war. And that begins, as you correctly pointed out, in the yard."

She gaped at him.

"Or rather a room I've prepared for your training. I have procured a warrior who shall act as both your trainer in arms as well as your personal sword."

"You… You're serious? Aren't you?"

"Indeed. You are a dragon rider Rhaena. By definition, that makes you one of the most powerful warriors in the Kingdom. It is a shameful failure of mine that you are not better trained in the arts of war. A failure that I shall do what I can to rectify before you turn 16."

"You've always scoffed whenever I asked you to train with a sword, father. What changed?"

It probably came out far more like a childish plea than she had tried to make it sound.

Her father, however, was not taken aback by it, however.

"Your grandfather died."

"Why… Why that change your opinion?"

"Aegon and I didn't always have the same view of viewing thing Rhaena. However, when I was a prince, it was not my place to openly challenge my father's decisions. Now, however, I am King. I make the rules."

He turned around, and opened the box, and pulled out a war mace.

Then he handed it to her.

She took it reverently and brought it up to her eyes to inspect it. It was good quality steel it was. As good as Aegon's blade, if not better.

"You like it? I had a Qohorian blacksmith make it especially for you. Along with your armor."

She snapped her eyes up from the mace and back to her father.

"Armor?"

Then she realized how stupid that sounded. Of course, father had made her armor. She was royalty damn it. Both Aegon and Viserys had their own sets of full plate, and they were just growing squires.

Her father obviously agreed.

"Of course, you didn't think I'd send you to war in a dress did you? Anyhow, the armor is in the training room. Your new training master will help you with it during your first lesson."

"And when will that be."

"Tomorrow night."

Great. So little sleep then.

"I… Not that I'm not happy about this father. I have asked you for this since… I was four after all but… What about mother?"

His face became a grimace.

"I suspect there will be much yelling about the topic. But don't worry. I have no plans of going back on it."

A part of her felt jubilee about that. Another, deeper part of her had kinda hoped mother would force a stop to it before it began. She tried her best to squish that part into the bottom of her mind.

"So how often will I train then?"

"Every night for the next two months, after you've begun to build some muscle, we'll change it to be more in line with your brothers."

Her brothers. How would they react?

"Also, once that has happened, I will begin to teach you personally in your further education. Until then I will leave you this book to read and study."

He pulled out a book from the box.

"What book is that?"

"Hammer and Anvil. It's a pretty good work about field tactics. Once you've finished it, we'll move on to naval tactics and how you'll both lead and affect it on dragon back."

"Also, from now on I want you to attend every session of justice held by me or Stokeworth."

"....Why?"

"Because once we've conquered the Stepstones, I don't want you to simply command Rhaena. I want you to rule as well.

"Rule?" She replied with a squeaky voice.

"Yes. The Stepstones will not be a province like the rest. It will be considered to be a part of the crownlands and will be ruled by a royal governor, a nonhereditary post chosen directly by the king, which will revert back to the crown upon death. You will be the first governor of the stepstones. In charge of ruling all of the cities I'm going to make on them, as well as defending it from any threat."

She just stared at him, mouth wide open.

Her mind tried to come up with something, anything to say, but it just wouldn't come.

"It's okay to be scared Rhaena. Responsibility is terrifying."

"I'm not scared" She snapped.

Then she shrank back.

"How… How the hell am I going to do that? I… I"I don't know anything about ruling."

"You'll do fine Rhaena." He stood up, and ruffled her hair, like he had done when she was younger, back when she had still asked him to be allowed to use a sword.

"You're my child after all. You have a good head on your shoulders, and I'm going to teach you, Aegon and Viserys EVERYTHING you'll ever need to rule. It'll be fine. I promise."

---

10 days before the King's Council.

The song started up again for the third time.

"Mother and father were laying in bed!"

"Mother rolled over and this is what she said!"

"Now gimme some!"

"PT!"

"Good for you!"

"And good for me!"

"Up in the morning to the risin' sun!"

"Gonna run all day, til' the running's done!"

"The Pirate King is a son of a bitch!"

"Got the blue balls crabs and the seven-year itch!"

"I love working for Aenys and being his man!"

"Lets me know just who I am!"

"One, two, three, four, Westerosi Crossbow Core!"

"One, two, three, four, I love the Westerosi Crossbow Core!"

"My Core!"

"Your Core!"

"Our Core!"

"Crossbow Core!"

"I don't know but I've been told!"

"Wildling pussy is mighty cold!"

"Mmm good!"

"Feels good!"

"Is good!"

"Real good!"

"Tastes good!"

"Mighty good!"

"Good for me!"

"And good for you!"

"I don't want no teenage queen!"

"I just want my goatfoot killing machine!"

"If I die in the combat zone!"

"Box me up and ship me home!"

"Pin my medals upon my chest!"

"Tell my mother I've done my best!"

The song did not start up again. That was good. It meant they were nearing the goal. Thank the fucking gods.

Sure enough, a minute later they passed the black pole, and the sharp sound of drill Sargeant Giovanni's flute rang.

He felt like collapsing. Every muscle in his body burned like fire. But he didn't collapse. That would mean weakness. And weakness meant punishment.

So, instead, he unhooked the shield from his back, set it up so that it didn't fall. Then he carefully balanced his crossbow against it, making sure it would not tip and fall.

After that, he bent down and began his stretches. Just like everyone else on the field.

"Seems you iron bars are finally starting to learn something. Good. Good."

He didn't stop doing his stretches as the Myrishman talked. He and several other of the group had learned the hard way, that doing so was not allowed. You did your job, the way you had been ordered. Unless ordered otherwise.

"HOWEVER! You still have not cleared the 20 minutes mark! Today we did it at 22 minutes. By the end of the week, we will do it in 20! IS THAT CLEAR YOU IRON BARS!?"

It was unnerving how he was able to tell time like that, to the exact minute. Those time machines truly were unnatural things.

"YES DRILL SARGEANT SIR!"

"GOOD! Now take 15 minutes breather, then we begin the march back."

10 of those ten minutes would be used to finish their stretches.

Still, at least now they were allowed to talk, as the drill Sargeant went amongst the shield looking for any poor damned bastard who had allowed his crossbow to fall to the ground. If he did, it would mean an hour of standing at attention for the offending man.

"So Bronn, you up for a game of cards later? Donny asked in a cheerful tone like they hadn't just run 2 goddamned miles with heavy shields on their backs.

"Why, to watch you lose again?"

"Oh, you don't know, I might win this time."

Bronn snorted.

"Because if someone beats you 13 times in a row, the 15th time it'll turn around."

"14 comes after 13 Bronn, not 15."

He rolled his eyes.

"The POINT. Is that Brynden has crushed you in every damned game you've played with him. Why do you keep going back to play with him? I don't even understand the rules to that crazy riverlander game they play."

Truth be told, he barely understood the way the Valemen played cards, but he wasn't gonna admit that in front of a fellow Valeman.

"Well, for one thing, it's fun. You don't become a master at anything without doing it a few times and failing."

"You have a strange definition of fun Donny. In any case, to answer your question, no I'm not going with you to see you lose more stags. I'm heading over to the bar."

"Well, in that case, I don't recommend the wine. It's pretty bad."

"That so? What do you recommend? Arbor gold? Maybe I could get a glass for the rest of my pay for the year."

"Eh, I've always thought the reacher wine was overrated. Not to mention too expensive. Now, if you want some real good stuff at a reasonable price, I'd recommend wine from Roland's Dale. It's this small valley along the Snakewood that makes amazing wine."

"And you think ill find that at the bar?"

"Probably not. Knowing the Crownlanders, it's just some local drivel. They have no taste for vine here."

"If you say so."

Truth be told, he hadn't even tasted wine before coming to the city. All his experience with drinks had been beer.

Gods he had missed out.

"JON, YOU PATHETIC WHORESON!!! GET OVER HERE!"

Both he and Donny winced, then looked over poor Jon who had turned as pale as milk. Seems there would be someone from their company at attention after all.

---

They left poor Jon standing at attention by the barracks being shouted at by Giovanni. That the man could keep going for an hour with only breaks for water was pretty astonishing.

Oh well, Jon would still have the rest of the free day to enjoy himself once it was over.

Running was far away the most hated of the trainings they did. In large part due to the fact it was the only training they still had to do on their free day. And if you were unlucky or clumsy like Jon, you'd lose an hour afterwards too.

Some of the men headed into the city, some to go mingle the with men outside their own squads for various reasons. Generally gambling.

He and a few others headed towards the bar.

One would think that a bar outside the city walls would not have many customers, but the rather large building had been standing for far longer than it had been a favorite of the King's Soldiers.

Now it was a gathering point where army footmen and local farmers mixed together with the occasional travelers.

Situated by a much trodden upon road to the north, it was a much more accessible alternative to going into the city proper.

For one, you did not risk getting lost and not finding your way back to the city gate before the sun went down. He'd done that once, on his second free day. He'd lost track of time and hadn't gotten back to the barracks before morning training.

It was so far the only misdemeanor that had actually gotten him flogged.

It would be the last if he could help it.

As he entered, he looked around for the other Bronn. No luck though. Either his own running training wasn't over, or he had decided to spend his days elsewhere.

He sighed, went up to the bar, and bought a cheap bottle of wine, and got two cups. Then he sat down by his usual table to wait.

Just an hour of loneliness and Jon would be here, and he wouldn't be alone anymore.

As he sat and took a drink of the awful wine, he wondered how in an army of thousands, he could still feel so alone.

When they had gotten to the capital they had been many valemen together. But they had quickly been divided into other groups with men from the other lands of Westeros.

The other Bronn had instantly been sent to become a pikebreaker, given his size and strength, while he and Donny had been made crossbowmen.

Now it was all… Empty. He didn't really know most of the men in the squad. Only Donny and Jon. If it could even be called a squad. They were supposed to be 20 men under a captain, but they were only 11 so far.

According to Giovanni, they'd get a captain when the numbers were filled out.

He had given no indication of when that would be. So far, they hadn't been filled out in the 6 weeks they'd been here. Most of the others had, but Crossbow Platoon 17 had not.

Army life had proven… Different than he'd expected.

It was hard of course, with six days out of seven being devoted to a truly astonishingly brutal training regiment.

One would have thought that the crossbowmen's training regiment would have been less brutal, but it most certainly was not. Every day, they would be drilled with firing their crossbows, hours upon hours upon hours. Then once they had fired all their bolts, they had to run and pick them up and fire them again.

Then there was the running. And the strength exercises. And training in the art of stabbing someone in the face with their stilettos after they were down. And formation training. And on and on it went.

And then there was the only thing everyone hated nearly as much as running training. Camping day.

Once a week they'd have to march half a day, only to make a camp and sleep there. Then after that, they marched all the way back in the morning and went back to training as regular.

It was a brutal life.

Yet somehow it wasn't any of that got to Bronn.

It was the loneliness.

All the songs and tales he had heard spoke of fighting as if it was this grand endeavor of tons of men coming together and becoming comrades in the fires of war.

So far, the only friends he'd made in this army were Donny, the other Bronn, and Jon.

He liked Donny. But he couldn't just follow him around all the time. For one thing, he had a talent for screwing things up where Donny would charm and calm others down.

He'd gotten a day in the brigg(A fancy way of saying the barrack's dungeon) for a brawl he'd gotten into while tagging along with Donny while visiting a platoon filled with Stormlanders.

They were not the friendliest folk the Stormlanders.

As for Jon… Well, if Bronn lacked a silver tongue, he at least didn't just attract bad luck wherever he went.

Jon had so far in his 4 weeks of army duty: stood at attention more than any other man in the entire crossbow section of the army, gotten lost every single time he went alone into the city(He currently had a ban from doing just that) and gotten whipped for it every single time, accidentally shot a dog belonging to a blacksmith(He'd lost two weeks of pay to pay reparations to the man) and had fainted when King Aenys visited them on his silver dragon.

He wasn't a bad man… He just wasn't cut out to be a soldier, as Giovanni had screamed at him time and again.

Why he had joined the army then was anybody's guess. So far he hadn't even told him and Donny about that.

And final amongst his friends were the other Bronn, who seemed to grow more and more distant between each time they talked together.

It was a melancholic feeling, and one he wasn't sure what he could do anything about.

The rest of the "squad" outside of him, Donny and Jon had formed their own group, and he'd had little luck joining them.

He'd noticed that a lot walking around. Dozens upon dozens of smaller groups just doing their own thing. There were a couple of exceptions like Donny, who mingled freely, but for the most part, the army was composed of men who didn't interact much outside their own crew.

Hell, a look around the bar reinforced that view.

Every single group were their own.

He couldn't read the numbers on their surcoats, but everyone matched with all the rest of their groups.

It was a depressing feeling. It shouldn't be like this. They were one army, right? Yet it felt like they were a hundred, smaller disconnected bands.

Finally, Jon showed up and Bronn wordlessly poured him a cup of wine.

After finishing drinking all of it in one go, Jon finally spoke.

"What happens if you kill a drillmaster?"

"You're broken on the wheel. Happened the first week I was here. Not a pleasant way to go."

Jon shuddered.

"...Wouldn't be able to anyway… Damn that Myrish bastard…"

He poured himself another cup and drank it too in one go.

"Yeah, he's kinda terrifying."

Jon looked longingly at one of the other groups, laughing around their own table.

"Damned the 9th has it good. Their drill Sargeant doesn't yell at them nearly as much."

9th...

"Isn't he that one who makes you stand at attention for 3 hours if you fuck up?"

"Yeah, but he doesn't yell at them while they're doing it."

"Well, it could be worse. There is the 8th."

He shuddered.

"Yeah." Jon agreed with him. He didn't sound encouraged by the notion at all though.

"The 8th has it the worst."

---

7 Days before the King's Council

Tom kicked down the door, just like he'd been practicing with the prop.

Then they flooded into the room.

"ON, THE GROUND! NOW!!!" Someone yelled. It didn't work, as everyone inside just tried to highlighted, but they were obligated to give anyone they raided the chance to yield.

The king's own orders.

There were a lot of changes happening inside the City Watch lately. Some good, some bad. The good part included proper equipment, better pay, and access to a maester if you got hurt.

The bad part was more rules. A neverending list of new rules and regulations. Tom didn't remember the name of the old commander of the City Watch. He hadn't much mattered to the men for the most part. Other than the men with higher ranks, he generally let them do as they pleased.

The new commander was a different beast.

A lordling the Riverlands, bracken was a tall, imposing man with a fiery beard, who had enforced and brutal discipline on the men. A couple of men had taken some extra coin to do their job, as had been usual for years. They needed some way to get paid for their work after all.

Bracken had promptly arrested both men, broken them on the wheel, and left pieces of their bodies hanging around the city, for all to see.

It had been a clear message, and it had been the end for taking cuts of shop owners in general.

He'd also enforced discipline, a clear list of where each guard worked and when, as well as including his 60 men into the guard.

Most of the older guards hated Bracken's guts, but not Tom.

After all, in the old days, he never got to raid someone's house.

One of the thieves pulled a knife on him, and tried to stab him in the face.

He "parried" the blow(as in he slammed down his goedendag on the guy's hand so hard he heard that glorious crunching sound of breaking bones.), then as the man was swearing, and cradling his hand, he took the shaft by both hands and drove the spike through his gut.

The man reacted in the usual shock of someone who had been impaled, and winced and cried in pain as he fell on his knees cradling the spot where he had a hole through to the back.

Not wanting the man to suffer unnecessarily, he lifted the weapon over his head, and with a big grin on his face, he brought it down full force upon the guy's head.

"CRUNCH"

After that, he followed the rest of the raid deeper into the warehouse.

---

"We killed four thieves, though maybe twice that number escaped."

His captain swore loudly.

"How much goods did you find?"

"Quite a lot. There's tons of metal crap, like knives, mail, weapons, and so on. But the majority was spices, not sure what kinds exactly, but not common salt, I can tell you that much."

"Also, we did manage to capture three thieves alive sir."

The man stared dumbfounded at him for a second.

"THEN WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME THAT EARLIER?"

He snapped towards two other men. "You two! Lay them in chains, then take 4 men and bring them back to the station. We'll put em to the rack, and see if they'll feel like telling us about more places they know about! "

The two men saluted, then went to carry out their orders. The captain looked back at him like he wanted to strangle him, but instead, he took a deep breath and told him to go and stand guard outside.

Tom did so, still wearing a smile on his face. It really was fun messing with the guy, delaying the report while they searched the building thoroughly, rather than informing him the moment they captured the thieves.

It was fun keeping him waiting for half an hour, nerves on edge.

As he stood outside, weapon raised, he took in the sight.

Most people took in the sight of their operation, staring and listening to the shouts. Some had horrified expressions, others fascination. Most people just stared for a bit, then went on with their day though.

It was the fourth house of thieves they had raided in the last month. And to Tom, it never stopped being fun. Frankly, it was far more enjoyable than how it had been 2 months ago. There wasn't a week going by now where they didn't hunt down some thieves and put a few holes in criminal scum.

He got better standard pay, things weren't boring anymore, and he got to kill people every week. It was nice being an upstanding upkeeper of the law.

Finally, the three thieves were dragged out of the house in chains and taken back to the Station. Or in common folk term, their home. He doubted the thieves would enjoy their hospitality though.

He chuckled as he watched them go, and wondered if he would make it back soon enough to hear them scream.

---

3 Days before the King's Council

"So, let me see if I understood this correctly boy."

Father looked down upon the man who stood in chains before the Iron Throne.

Since returning home, the regular daily sessions of the King's justice had changed from a few hours every other day to father sitting in judgment for an entire day once a week.

She had attended this one time before.

It was… A strange feeling seeing father deliver justice.

The man who always was kind, quick to laugh, and charitable with both words and coin, was like a completely different man when he sat the massive behemoth of steel.

It wasn't that he wasn't without mercy. He definitely was, as he had proven time and again over the sessions of justice.

He gave a widow and her children their father's property(or at least that which could not be proven to be stolen) when he sentenced the woman's husband to death for thievery when the law clearly noted that such went to the crown in those cases.

He gave mercy to child thieves and had come down hard on the subject with a new law that stated that children(as in those below 16 years old) could not be tried as an adult, and as such could not suffer the punishment of dismemberment or hanging.

It was the kind of good-hearted nature she would expect from her father.

No, the things that disturbed her was what he did with actual criminals….

"Thinking yourself clever, you followed the law of the rules of six to the letter, beating your erring wife with six incredibly hard blows, every time you decided she needed chastisement."

"One might be inclined to think you only made up your wives cheating on you, given how often you made use of the rule of six. I doubt many women would immediately go out and cheat on the morrow after being beaten for it the previous day."

"However, that question is moot, as you are guilty of murder, boy, not merely exploiting the law for perverse personal desires."

The tone of his voice was hard, cold, and utterly without mercy. It was as different from how her father was in her mind, as the sun was from the night sky.

"You murdered your wife boy, even if you technically did it within the confines of the letter of the law, killing her with a 4th blow, never striking her a seventh time. The spirit of the law of the right of six, however, is to protect women from endless abuse, not to give their husbands the means to beat them bloody each night after work."

"So, apprentice Hoster, I find you guilty of murder. And in my own name, I sentence you to death. Your wife suffered a lot in her short life married to you, and so shall you in what time remains for you, boy. I sentence you to death by Scaphism."

A chill ran down Rhaenas back at those words as the man was dragged out, followed by the family of the deceased woman, who had come to see Royal Justice done.

She wondered if any of them knew what scaphism was. Maybe they did. The boats had been used 4 times to kill criminals of a certain kind after the last session.

More to the point, father had given it to people who's crimes were against children or their wives.

Men who assaulted and raped children, and as shown today, men who beat their wives to death.

It wasn't that Rhaena disagreed with the verdict. The man was a murderer and should be punished as such. But Scaphism? Really?

Ignoring it had been invented by the ancient Rhoynar, ancestors of the hated Dormish, it was up there with flaying, as one of the most cruel and inhumane ways to execute people that had ever been devised.

She had actually thrown up 3 days after the last session when she had actually gone down to see her father's justice.

First, you took the criminal down by the river, where there were two boats.

Then the criminal was force-fed milk and honey, and after that their body was smeared in more milk and honey.

Then they were bound to one of the boats, and the second boat was placed over it and nailed on top of the first.

Then the condemned was force-fed MORE milk and honey.

The smell attracted insects, like flies, wasps, and bees. So many that the swarm would literally cover the entire person's body, climbing into the boat through the openings for his head, hands, and legs.

The insects then began eating away at them, starting with their eyes and balls.

But that was hardly the end of it.

All that milk and honey would cause the condemned to shit themselves horribly, and they would be left to lie suffering in their own feces until the next day when they would feed him again.

As the days went by, the boat was eventually filled up with the victim's shit, where worms and burrowing insects would begin to breed.

This process would continue for days until the man's body finally gave out from rotting away in his own shit, as well as being devoured by insects.

Rhaena had gone down to look at day three, curious how this aspect of King's justice worked.

At least none of the smallfolk had been there to see her throw up on herself. They all gave the execution boats a wide berth.

It was horrible and inhumane, and it astonished her that father used this method of execution for anyone, given how he had revolutionized the act of quickly and mercifully beheading someone with the Execution machine.

He REALLY did not like men who abused children, or their own wives.

"We shall now take an hour break before we resume Justice." Her father declared as the door closed behind the wife killer. Then he stood up in his black and red armor and began to walk down the steps.

For the reprive, Rhaena was immensely grateful. She and Aegon had sat off on the side of the Iron throne by a table that was usually occupied by the council whenever Stokeworth held court.

Right now, however, it was completely unoccupied, except for her and Aegon.

Viserys wasn't old enough in her father's opinion, so he got to skip out on these days to do whatever he wanted. God, he was lucky.

As she got up and stretched her sore and beaten body, she contemplated whether she should go and find Alayne or Samantha. She quickly dismissed it. Her bodily needs took precedence over having a short bit of fun.

Also, she felt Darke's eyes on her back.

She felt rather certain that if she spent this hour having some fun with her girls, her master would punish her harshly for it during their training that night.

A kind, compassionate woman who was fond of displays of love, Darke was not.

Frankly, she had trouble considering her master a woman at all, given she was only 15 years old.

That youth masked a frightening skill at arms, that Made Aegon's talent look like he was a novice and that had laid Rhaena flat on her back 243 times so far(She was rather fond of loudly counting the new number after each time Rhaena fell).

Jonquil Darke was a bastard Daughter of lord Darklyn of Duskendale, and a lady of the Darklyn's cadet house of Darke.

By her own admission, she had no fame, no future prospects and no likely lordly prospects for a match. What she did have, was a childhood growing up in the yard. Unlike Rhaena.

The King's reach went far, however, and after getting a letter from the King offering her a job, she had jumped on a ship to the capital, in exchange for a monthly sum, as well as royal legitimization.

That job was to beat Rhaena like she was an untempered iron bar.

How her father had known about her and her skills, Rhaena didn't know. But the girl was the real deal. She had grown up watching enough men batter each other around in the yard not to understand the sheer difference between her and Darke.

"Man, that was great," Aegon replied, still sitting and looking at their father as he descended.

"What, the punishment?"

"Nooo," Aegon said in a tone like she had just said something completely stupid.

"The way he dressed down that arse like he was a bug on his shoe. It was awesome!"

God, boys were easily amused.

"Well, you can tell that to father yourself then. I'm heading to the privy."

---

Final Day before the King's Council

The outside of the sept of Remembrance was packed full of everything that the Kingdom of Westeros had to offer.

Northmen, Ironmen, Sistermen, Valemen, Clawmen, Rivermen, Westermen, Reachmen, Stormlanders, Valyrians, and Dragons.

Nobles of all colors and ranks stood on the plaza, in a pattern, each surrounded by their own men, stood all my Lord Paramounts and Wardens, gathered together for the first time in history.

Below my smallfolk had gathered, well over 50 000 people. On the sides of the plaza, flanking the spot where the Septon stood with by an altar, Visenya and Rhaena sat on their dragons, a visible reminder of our draconic might.

Quicksilver instead roosted above, on the roof of the sept, waiting for my command to jump down so I could mount her at the end.

Unlike most coronations, where the king would enter the holy place then say their wow's enclosed and locked off from the world, I was doing the opposite.

As I had and would continue to prove, I marched to the beat of a different drummer.

The ceremony would be held outside, for all the world to see and hear.

Also, it would the first use outside of the army of a megaphone. Though this was far more powerful than the ones I had given my army. All thanks to a couple of runes and some king's blood(though my septon didn't know about that last part).

Said army was also present, every single one of them standing at attention in columns below, and behind my lords here upon the plaza.

I didn't actually expect there to be any trouble, but I had organized them so that if for god knows what reason, the people tried to attack, they would face halberdiers protecting the stairs and crossbowmen up here on the plaza.

Anyhow, it was time for the show. To the call of trumpets, I and my family exited the sept.

By my side walked my squires, Aegon and Viserys on one side, and by the other walked my wife, holding little Jaehaerys by the hand.

Alysanne was currently in her room with her nurse, guarded by 20 Knights I trusted who weren't Kingsguard knights.

All the seven trailed me and my family making sure I was protected on all flanks.

My wife had originally not wanted to come today, instead wanting to be with Alysanne. She was still LIVID about Rhaena becoming a soldier. There had been a lot of arguments and screaming about that. However, that was simply not something I was going to back down on. I suspected a lot of sweet talking would happen on my part to mend our relationship.

For now, I had convinced/guilted her into coming for the sake of our children. Aegon and Viserys needed the realm to think the royal family had no problems, and Jaehaerys needed his mother here. It was a bit shitty of me to use the kids like that, but I had done it.

The image I wanted to portray here was important. Exceedingly so.

I wanted every single person who attended this event to remember this event forever. To remember the image of their king and his family.

United, strong and flawless. The blood of the Dragon in all it's prestige, might, and unity of purpose.

The reality was more complicated, but the image was what mattered in this kind of society.

We walked along the plaza surrounded on all sides by men from all corners of the land, all of them looking at us and judging us and how we held ourselves.

My squires were of course dressed in their suits of immaculately fitted plate armor, as was their sister and my aunt on their mounts. Little Jaehaerys was dressed in a fine black shirt with the three-headed dragon breathing fire on its chest.

My wife was dressed in a gorgeous dress with the colors of her birth house and the seahorse(as in the greek kind, not an image of the actual animal) on her chest, just below where it was cut in front to give a view of her generous cleavage.

Over her shoulders, she wore a cape with the colors of House Targaryen, black with red trimmings. On her head, she wore a silver crown embedded with emeralds.

And finally, there was me.

As I was designing a standardized suit of armor for my army, I had used many sources in Westeros, but in the end, I had simple ended up pretty much copying the black and gold ebony armor from the upcoming Skyblivion mod for Skyrim.

Of all projects I had been looking forward to the most before I had ended up here, that one was by far the thing I had looked forward to the most.

Alas, I would never get to play it. Ever. However, I had realized I would be able to use a lot of its glorious designs for myself. No one was around to calm me out on it after all.

So I had decided that as my formal kingly wear, I would use a modified version of Skyblivions emperor robes.

My outfit consisted of a red tunic underneath with black patterns, black pants, and a set of fine red boots. Over my red tunic, I wore a set of purple robes, patterned with red draconic imagery along the sides, and with ermine sewn along the sleeves and over my shoulders.

As for jewelry I didn't wear my crown(that one was on a smaller pedestal by the altar) but I wore 7 of my custom made rings copied from various fantasy sources, and on my chest was the amulet of kings, the most valuable piece jewelry in this kingdom.

Around my waist was a belt made up of golden Squares inlaid with rubies. Finally there was Blackfyre by my side, it's sheet held up by a slim golden band I had hooked over my shoulder on the opposite side.

Quite frankly, I looked like the most illustrious of kings. Which I was.

As we walked, even at our brisk pace, we soon came near the edge, where the Septon who would crown me awaited us.

I had refused all requests by the high Septon to be crowned in Oldtown, instead, I had politely asked him to come here himself.

He had refused on account of his age and sent a lower-ranking Septon in his stead to bless me.

I had originally assumed that whoever he sent would be chosen to spite me.

Instead, he had sent one of the most energetic men I had ever met. A firebrand of a man who had been to crown the King of Westeros.

Finally, we reached the altar, and while my family stopped a bit ahead of the altar to let me go on ahead alone, my kingsguard spread out with their backs turned towards me, to shield me from any attacks in the back.

I knelt before the altar.

Septon Gerard, put his hand on my shoulder, in a kindly manner.

"Are you ready to say your oaths, my son?"

He said kindly.

"Yes". I answered, dreading what would come next. What came next was him turning to the crowd below, and putting the megaphone to his lips before he began speaking.

"Children of the seven!" His voice boomed so loudly it felt like I was standing by a loudspeaker at max.

"We are gathered here today, to see the ascension, no the RISE of our new Monarch. The son of Aegon the First, Aenys Targaryen, and also son of Rhaenys the Beloved, our queen, who lost her life in battle against the hated snakes beyond the Red Mountains!"

"Our nation was united 37 years ago, by the blood of the Dragon! But our King's fire has ended, and with it, he has passed from this world to the embrace of the Seven WHO ARE ONE!"

As I knelt listening to this guy, I couldn't help but be reminded of a certain preacher from Whiterun.

"Now, with our beloved King Aegon gone from this world of mortals, it is now the time for a new King to take his place and rule our BELOVED WESTEROS!"

"IT IS TIME FOR THE RISE OF AENYS THE FIRST OF HIS NAME, THE KING OF THE ANDALS, THE IRONBORN AND THE FIRST MEN, GRAND DUKE OF THE CROWNLANDS, PROTECTOR OF THE FAITHS AND. KING. OF. WESTEROS!!!"

He turned to me.

"NOW MY SON, IT IS TIME FOR YOUR KINGLY OATHS!"

"DO YOU SWEAR TO UPHOLD THE LAW OF THE LAND, AND BE JUST IN ALL YOUR RULINGS AND DECISIONS?"

"THIS I SWEAR!"

"DO YOU SWEAR TO SHOW THE MOTHER'S MERCY TO THE INNOCENT AND THE WEAK, TO THE MISFORTUNATE, AND THE BROKEN?

"THIS I SWEAR!"

"DO YOU SWEAR TO PROTECT YOUR PEOPLE WITH FIRE AND STEEL IN YOUR HANDS, AGAINST ANY WHO WOULD THREATEN THEM?"

"THIS I SWEAR! "

"DO YOU SWEAR TO BETTER THE REALM YOU INHERITED FROM YOUR FATHER, AND LEAVE IT STRONGER, RICHER, AND MORE PROSPEROUS THAN YOU FOUND IT?

"THIS I SWEAR!"

"DO YOU SWEAR TO PROTECT THE VIRTUE AND INNOCENCE OF THE WOMEN AND MAIDEN OF YOUR KINGDOM?"

"THIS I SWEAR!"

"DO YOU SWEAR TO SPREAD THE CRONE'S GUIDANCE AND WISDOM WHEREVER YOUR WRIT STRETCHES?

"THIS I SWEAR!"

"DO YOU SWEAR TO DO ALL OF THIS, UNTIL YOUR DYING DAY, TO NEVER WANE OR FALTER, TO UPHOLD THE LAW, JUSTICE, AND ORDER IN WESTEROS NOW AND UNTIL DEATH CLAIMS YOU, IN THE SIGHT OF GODS, OLD AND NEW?"

"THIS I SWEAR!"

After my final swearing, he took a cup, dipped it in the altar, and as I bent my head down, he began to pour the liquid over me. He repeated this 7 times. And though he said words, he thankfully didn't use the goddamned megaphone while doing it.

After he was done, he took a piece of cloth and dried my head and hair dry, before taking my crown and putting it on my head.

Immediately after it touched my head, he snatched up the megaphone and finished his performance with the other unoccupied hand on my shoulder.

"I NOW PROCLAIM YOU KING OF WESTEROS, KING OF THE ANDALS, THE IRONBORN AND THE FIRST MEN, GRAND DUKE OF THE CROWNLANDS, VISCOUNT OF KING'S LANDING, PROTECTOR OF THE FAITHS, AND SHIELD OF YOUR PEOPLE, RISE AENYS TARGARYEN, FIRST OF YOUR NAME, AND MAY YOUR REIGN LAST AS LONG YOUR FATHER BEFORE YOU!"

As I rose, three dragons let out skywards burst of flame, brown and blue mixing with pure white above, causing a spectacular scene of three fire intermixing.

And all around, from behind, my left, my right and ahead, I heard cheering. Soldiers, lords, smallfolk, and knights. Everyone cheered my name.

Aenys! Aenys! Aenys!

Well, it was time to put on a show as they say.

First, I turned to my lords and gave all of them my best smile. I wasn't sure how many who saw it, but I kept it until the fires died down, then I took the megaphone from where Septon Gerard had left it.

And turned to the crowd.

I raised an open palm for silence, and the ones directly below silenced. As people realized what I was doing, they began to quiet down.

Over fifty thousand people shut up, and it only took a minute.

It struck me then, for maybe the first time what it truly meant to be king. For everyone below, I was their divinely-appointed monarch. I spoke for the gods in all secular matters.

I was on a level of fear and respect amongst the populace far beyond any elected president could ever hope to be.

God almighty it was terrifying.

I lifted the megaphone to my lips.

I licked them, ears still ringing after the Septon scripted performance. He had played his part well. Really well. Now I just had to finish it.

"PEOPLE OF WESTEROS! MY SUBJECTS!" I THANK YOU FOR COMING HERE TODAY!"

I took a deep breath before I continued.

Just remember the script.

"THERE ARE MANY THINGS I WISH TO SAY TO YOU, BOTH ABOUT PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE!"

"I AM NOT MY FATHER. MY REIGN WILL NOT BE REMEMBERED FOR LARGE SCALE WARS. IF MY PLANS DO NOT GO WRONG, THEN THE WAR IN THE STEPSTONES TO FREE OUR EASTERN SEAS FROM PIRATES WILL BE THE ONLY WAR I EVER FIGHT!"

"I WILL NOT GIVE YOU A GLORIOUS CONQUEST LIKE MY FATHER DID. WHAT WILL GIVE YOU, HOWEVER, IS PEACE, PROSPERITY, AND JUSTICE FOR ALL!!!"

"I KNOW THAT MANY OF YOU HAVE ALREADY SEEN THE BEGINNING OF THAT PROSPERITY! MY NEW FORGES HAVE MADE STEEL FAR CHEAPER AND MORE COMMON FOR ALL, WHETHER IT BE ARMOR, ARMS OR JUST THE REGULAR NEEDS OF LIFE, SUCH AS NAILS, CUPS OR DINING KNIVES!"

"BUT THIS IS NOT THE END OF THE PROSPERITY I INTEND TO GIVE TO YOU MY PEOPLE OF WESTEROS! NOT BY A FAITH BREEZE OR AN AUTUMN STORM! OH NO, I HAVE SO MUCH MORE I INTEND TO GIVE TO YOU!"

"BY THE END OF THIS YEAR, I WILL HAVE MADE IT SO THAT ALL OF THIS CITY, FROM THE RICHEST OF THE RICH TO THE HOMELESS ON THE STREETS, WILL HAVE ACCESS TO CLEAR AND CLEAN WATER TO DRINK! FREE, OF ANY CHARGE FOR ALL!"

IN THE YEARS TO COME, I WILL GIVE YOU MORE MARVELS! DEVICES THAT CAN ACCURATELY TELL TIME TO THE SECOND! SHIPS THAT NEEDS NO SAIL TO MOVE AT GREAT SPEED! STONE THAT CAN BE MADE AND FORMED LIKE CLAY, BUT HARD AND DURABLE AGAINST THE ELEMENTS! A MACHINE THAT WILL LET BOOKS BE WRITTEN IN ONE DAY'S TIME!

"I HAVE DREAMED OF ALL OF THESE THINGS FROM MY CHILDHOOD, WAITING, PLANNING AND DREAMING FOR THE DAY I MADE THEM REAL. BUT THE TIME OF DREAMING IS OVER! NOW, IS THE TIME TO MAKE MY DREAMS MANIFEST FOR ALL, TO ENJOY AND REAP THE BOUNTY OFF!"

I took one final deep breath before I continued with the last part.

"BUT THAT IS ALL IN THE FUTURE MY PEOPLE, FOR PLANS, TAKES TIME TO MAKE HAPPEN. HOWEVER, I WILL GIVE MY PEOPLE ONE GIFT TODAY! A BOON THEY SHOULD HAVE ENJOYED FROM THE START OF THEIR LIVES, BUT ALAS, THEY HAVE NOT."

"I HAVE SWORN TO BE JUST, TO SHOW MERCY TO THE INNOCENT AND THE WEAK, TO UPHOLD THE VIRTUE AND HONOR OF WOMEN AND MAIDENS IN MY LANDS!"

"HOWEVER! THERE IS LAW THAT CONTRADICTS ALL OF THAT! A TRAVESTY OF A LAW! A LAW THAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN OBLITERATED WHEN THE ANDALS FIRST CAME ACROSS THE SEAS TO THIS LAND."

"THIS TRAVESTY OF A LAW, IS AN INSULT TO THE KING'S PEACE!"

"MY PEACE!"

"SO LET IT BE KNOWN THAT I, AS THE FIRST ACT AS CROWNED KING OF WESTEROS, OUTLAW THE TRAVESTY THAT IS THE RIGHT OF THE FIRST NIGHT, IN ALL MY LANDS, FROM SKAGOS TO THE ARBOR, FROM THE LONELY LIGHT TO DRAGONSTONE, FROM THE WALL TO THE MOUNTAINS OF DORNE! I GIVE THIS GIFT TO YOU MY PEOPLE OF WESTEROS, FOR I LOVE YOU AS A FATHER LOVES HIS CHILDREN!"

The moment I stopped talking, the sounds of the crowds, and my soldiers all around, instantly became deafening.

AENYS!

Then someone somewhere shouted something else.

At first, it was hard to make out amongst all the repeats of Aenys! Aenys! But eventually, it became clearer and clearer as everyone began to scream it.

AENYS, KING OF DREAMS!

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