Jon_Coat

In a realm torn apart by war and betrayal, Aerion Targaryen, the Starborn rises from the shadows, a child of fire and blood. Born of the Mad King Aerys and the mysterious sorceress Melisandre, his fate is bound to the flames of destiny. With ancient powers stirring and enemies on all sides, he must carve his path through a world that fears and hungers for dragons. As alliances shift and kingdoms burn, Aerion will either forge a new ers or be consumed by the storm.

This is a Fanfiction of A game of Thrones, the rights of everything except Aerion Targaryen belongs to George R.R. Martin and HBO.

A song of Fire and Blood

Chapter 47 – The Tides of War

Robb Stark stood over the war table, his fingers pressed into the aged wood, his eyes scanning the map of Westeros. He had won every battle—Whispering Wood, Oxcross, the Battle of the Crag—but he was still losing the war.

His bannermen had named him king before he had even sworn fealty to Stannis. Now, he was the King in the North and the Trident, yet his war goals remained frustratingly out of reach.

Arya and Sansa were still prisoners.

Tywin Lannister still held Harrenhal, a dagger in the heart of the riverlands, cutting off any hope of a direct strike toward King's Landing.

His raids into the Westerlands had burned villages and taken gold and swords, but not his sisters. His men were fierce, battle-hardened, but they were outnumbered.

There was only one hope left—his mother's negotiations with the Tyrells.

If the Reach joined his cause, he would have the troops to take Harrenhal, cripple Tywin, and force the Lannisters to the table.

But until then, he could only wait.

Highgarden – Catelyn Stark's POV

Catelyn Stark sat in the great hall of Highgarden, surrounded by lords in silk and gold. The air was thick with the scent of summer roses, but beneath it, she smelled hesitation.

Mace Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden, sat at the center of the table, his great girth pressing against the arms of his chair. He was not a fool, but neither was he a bold man.

"Why should my daughter wed Robb Stark?" Mace asked, his voice rich with skepticism. "Your son has fewer men than the Lannisters, fewer ships than the Greyjoys, and fewer lords than Stannis Baratheon. He is also betrothed to a Frey."

"Betrothals can be broken, my lord," she said, her voice measured. "Especially in times of war."

Willas Tyrell, the heir to Highgarden, leaned forward.

"Father, the Hightowers aim to take the Reach's paramouncy for themselves by aligning with the Lannisters. Stannis will never forgive us for besieging Storm's End during Robert's Rebellion. If we do not ally with the North, we will be alone."

Catelyn studied Willas. He was shrewder than his father, a man who thought five steps ahead.

Across from them, Olenna Tyrell, the Queen of Thorns, gave Mace a disgusted look.

"You oaf," she snapped. "You sit here dithering while our enemies carve up the realm like a roast fowl."

He was a man who wanted glory, but not risk.

"We will divide our forces," Mace said. "Half of Highgarden's troops, along with the Caswells, the Fossoways, and the remaining Reach forces, will remain in the south to defend our lands. Willas will oversee them with my mother."

"Garlan and I will take the other half north," Mace continued. "The Meadows, the Footlys, the Merryweathers, and Highgarden's finest knights will accompany us. Margaery will ride with us to Riverrun. We will formalize the marriage there."

"He is still missing," he admitted. "After Renly's death, he vanished. The last reports placed him near Storm's End, but nothing since. Until we find him, Garlan will command his knights."

Catelyn nodded, absorbing the weight of the agreement.

He would have Margaery Tyrell as his queen.

The North, the Trident, and the Reach—a powerful alliance.

And perhaps, if the Vale joined, they could truly crush the Lannisters once and for all.