Dragonstone

[Oznerol]

"And my own son's mount, Seasmoke, and Good Queen Alysanne's Silverwing"

The old lord reminded.

"The blood of the dragon does run a bit thin... However..."

Corlys looked quite worried for a second, staring at his wife with a hint of... fear. And he then looked Daemon, like seeking his former son-in-law's support.

"I may know where to find some"

It was unusual for someone to have crossed all known seas, save the Sunset Sea, to be unwilling to share his thoughts openly.

[Gandalfus]

Prince Daemon's brow furrowed, and he leaned forward in his seat.

"Who would they be?"

He asked, after a slight pause.

"If you trust them, then they may try themselves against the dragons."

It was strange for Corlys to be so... Candid. He reasoned that it was not without good cause.

[Oznerol]

"Ahemm... they're two boys, born in Hull"

If eyes were to be believed Corlys had blushed so very slightly. He looked at Rhaenys sideways.

"I didn't want to... ahemm, talk about them, to not disturb Her Grace"

Gods, I hope this works.

"My son Laenor fathered two sons on a young woman. I've fostered and taken care of them since they were born"

He said, very quickly, as if rushing to conclude the phrase would lessen the impact.

"Addam and Alyn. They're the blood of the dragon, I swear on the Old and the New Gods"

That much is true.

[chesser2538]

"Sleep, my dear. I will take the council until you return to strength. Then we will bring them fire and blood."

With that, the Rogue Prince took his leave. Jacaerys was summoned to the top of the Stone Drum, where Aegon's painted table lay. The maesters scurried off to send ravens to Dragonstone's vassals; Corlys Velaryon chief amongst them, for he would bring with him the might of the Velaryon fleet. Aegon had stolen a march on them, likely taken the time to drum up support before he dared to assert that Viserys had named him the next King. It was a scheme of Hightower's making, for certes - none of the sons of Viserys had the guile to deceive the realm so. Worse still, he had not expected it; they would have been back in the capital before the year was out, but the old fool could not hold on for just a few more weeks...

The Prince of Dragonstone made his way up the cold hard steps of the Stone Drum toward the top, taking them two at a time. He moved with swift determination, his eyes harbored a cold anger that was begging to be unleashed. He was eager to hear what Daemon had to say. What plans he had formulated to strike back at the treachery done upon their family. More than anything he longed for something to do. If there was to be a conflict, and if he knew his mother there would be, he wanted some part in it.

Nearing the top of the tower now he slowed his pace; best not to be seen rushing into things. Daemon was already there and turned as Jace entered the room. Meeting his gaze he greets him "Hello Uncle Daemon." His words were ringed with a hint of sadness.

[Barry Goldwater]

"Ahemm... they're two boys, born in Hull"

If eyes were to be believed Corlys had blushed so very slightly. He looked at Rhaenys sideways.

"I didn't want to... ahemm, talk about them, to not disturb Her Grace"

Gods, I hope this works.

"My son Laenor fathered two sons on a young woman. I've fostered and taken care of them since they were born"

He said, very quickly, as if rushing to conclude the phrase would lessen the impact.

"Addam and Alyn. They're the blood of the dragon, I swear on the Old and the New Gods"

That much is true.

Rhaenys returned Corlys' glance, and her eyes narrowed as he continued speaking. His sudden change in behavior and his words were more than a little suspicious - their son Laenor, of all people, fathering children with some girl? By the end she was biting her tongue to keep herself from responding and asking the question even she dreaded to hear the answer to. Calm down and don't lose your discipline, focus on what's important right now, which is to say, putting Aegon and his Hightower kin in their place, she had to remind herself as she relented and exhaled, stiffening her posture. Oh, but if the truth is remotely close to what I'm starting to suspect, there's going to be seven Hells to pay once we're done here, Corlys dear...

[Gandalfus]

"Ahemm... they're two boys, born in Hull"

If eyes were to be believed Corlys had blushed so very slightly. He looked at Rhaenys sideways.

"I didn't want to... ahemm, talk about them, to not disturb Her Grace"

Gods, I hope this works.

"My son Laenor fathered two sons on a young woman. I've fostered and taken care of them since they were born"

He said, very quickly, as if rushing to conclude the phrase would lessen the impact.

"Addam and Alyn. They're the blood of the dragon, I swear on the Old and the New Gods"

That much is true.

"I trust your word. They may approach the Dragonmont, with my blessing."

Daemon's mouth tugged slightly, threatening a smile. Unless the mother had a beard, he doubted Laenor would have looked twice at her.

"In the meantime, I shall raise the men of the Narrow Sea. We do not have time to waste, so we should move swiftly to gather our forces."

The Prince of Dragonstone made his way up the cold hard steps of the Stone Drum toward the top, taking them two at a time. He moved with swift determination, his eyes harbored a cold anger that was begging to be unleashed. He was eager to hear what Daemon had to say. What plans he had formulated to strike back at the treachery done upon their family. More than anything he longed for something to do. If there was to be a conflict, and if he knew his mother there would be, he wanted some part in it.

Nearing the top of the tower now he slowed his pace; best not to be seen rushing into things. Daemon was already there and turned as Jace entered the room. Meeting his gaze he greets him "Hello Uncle Daemon." His words were ringed with a hint of sadness.

"We were just discussing your trip to Storm's End."

Daemon greeted, curtly. He made a flippant gesture to those others present.

"Lord Baratheon must be won to our cause. Offer him what you wish: a marriage, the handship, even. But we need his men."

[Oznerol]

"I trust your word. They may approach the Dragonmont, with my blessing."

Daemon's mouth tugged slightly, threatening a smile. Unless the mother had a beard, he doubted Laenor would have looked twice at her.

"In the meantime, I shall raise the men of the Narrow Sea. We do not have time to waste, so we should move swiftly to gather our forces."



"We were just discussing your trip to Storm's End."

Daemon greeted, curtly. He made a flippant gesture to those others present.

"Lord Baratheon must be won to our cause. Offer him what you wish: a marriage, the handship, even. But we need his men."

"I raised my sails already, I said as much. Their strenght, added to that of Celtigar, Bar Emmon and any other ship we can assemble can block any incoming fleet"

Added Corlys.

"I shall send word to Hull, and order to fetch both boys to Dragonstone"

He eyed Rhaenys cautiously.

"They will serve Her Grace, my daughter, faithfully. I hope she won't mind their... paternity"

Corlys then turned to look at Jace.

"But, remember, you and your brother are betrothed to Lady Rhaena and Lady Baela, that was promised to us. You're not free to give away your hand, grandson"

[Zeus Almighty]

Arthor Celtigar, a young man of twenty years of age, arrived to Dragonstone to pay tribute to Queen Rhaenyra. He was from Claw Isle, had but a few friends, and was far from the main Celtigar branch. Yet still he came as a talented young fighter and sailor, as the blood of Old Valyria showed itself in his platinum hair and light eyes. He requested an audience with the Queen or one of her advisors, as he knew himself to hardly be important enough to warrant an audience with the Queen herself. He thumbed a pinky ring of his while awaiting to be acknowledged.

[Gandalfus]

Arthor Celtigar, a young man of twenty years of age, arrived to Dragonstone to pay tribute to Queen Rhaenyra. He was from Claw Isle, had but a few friends, and was far from the main Celtigar branch. Yet still he came as a talented young fighter and sailor, as the blood of Old Valyria showed itself in his platinum hair and light eyes. He requested an audience with the Queen or one of her advisors, as he knew himself to hardly be important enough to warrant an audience with the Queen herself. He thumbed a pinky ring of his while awaiting to be acknowledged.

Daemon could be found within the courtyard, inspecting the sorry lot that had come forward to serve the rightful Queen. Dragonstone did not boast a large population, nor a particularly strong one, and it seemed that their numbers would need to be bolstered. No matter. Rhaenyra had enough coin stockpiled to hire sellswords, and he knew from his own experience that plenty of companies roamed the Disputed Lands.

"Celtigar. I know you not."

The Rogue Prince, dressed in blackened mail, turned to stare at him directly. He looked like a Celtigar, though the self styled Protector of the Realm knew all of the sons of the old lord of Claw Isle; Arthor was not among them.

"You a cousin, or something? Some distant kinsman? I may have a use for you, Celtigar."

The lad had the balls to ask for the Queen directly, which made him very brave - and therefore useful - or very stupid. It would not take him long to find out.

[Zeus Almighty]

Prince Daemon Targaryen. Looking at the man, into his eyes, in this place, it could only be him. Arthor bowed deeply,

Prince Daemon, it is an honor to meet you.

The boy spoke softly. He felt cool yet warm. He anticipated being more nervous, maybe even scared, but his nerves were steady and so was his voice. He looked Daemon directly into his eyes, knowing it might have been as dangerous as looking away might have been cowardly.

My Father is Lord Celtigars...third cousin, I believe. So quite distant yes. I think if my features didn't strongly favor my Valyrian lineage they might not have even let me keep my name. My Father is a deplorable alcoholic you see. Made me raise myself basically. I had to nearly die a few times in order to teach myself how to fight, and nearly died some more while learning how to sail. If I could have nearly died learning to read, maybe I would have learned how.

He let out a little chuckle at the end. Surprised by the chuckle himself, his eyes widened and for the first time he stuttered slightly,

I-I came because whispers are reaching even us small folk about the death of the King. We know Rhaenyra Targaryen to be the rightful Queen and I wished to pledge myself to her cause. I could be useful in a great deal of ways.

[chesser2538]

"We were just discussing your trip to Storm's End."

Daemon greeted, curtly. He made a flippant gesture to those others present.

"Lord Baratheon must be won to our cause. Offer him what you wish: a marriage, the handship, even. But we need his men."

Upon hearing Daemons words, Jace has to suppress a smile. A chance to land a blow against the snakes that inhabited Kings Landing, and a chance to prove his capabilities. Every lord that was won to their side was one less for the Greens.

"You can depend on me" Jace responds, "I will set out in the morn for Storms End." Behind his eyes was raw vigor and determination. Drawing quiet to let the Lords speak he watched and listened. The next day boy and beast took to the skies.

[Oznerol]

Rhaenyra summoned her council, to discuss matters of war. She waited them seated at the throne, where Dragonstone stood in the painted table. She seemed fiercefully determined, somewhat weakened by labour still, but most her strenght had returned to her bones. Her hair was carefully braided and she had lost almost a stone and a half in the last days; her face was narrower and there was a hint of her old self.

[Adamat]

To Queen Rhaenyra of the Iron Throne, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms,

You may rest assured, my Queen, that the might of the Vale will stand with the Blacks for your rightful claim. The Seven know that Aegon II is nothing more than a vulgar usurper, ripping your dear father's last will apart like a vulture for personal gain. Our banners have been raised, our soldiers roused.

With winter approaching, my commanders believe it best to transport our armies, by sea, into the Crownlands. The Riverlands have been silent, so far, and we cannot risk leading our host through hostile territory, nor would we want to antagonize the Riverlander Lords by ransacking their stores so close to winter. I request that Your Grace send a fleet to Gulltown, capable of ferrying my Valemen across.

Signed,
Your leal vassal,
Lady Jeyne Arryn, Lady Paramount of Mountain and Vale, Lady Protector of the East

[Gandalfus]

Prince Daemon Targaryen. Looking at the man, into his eyes, in this place, it could only be him. Arthor bowed deeply,

Prince Daemon, it is an honor to meet you.

The boy spoke softly. He felt cool yet warm. He anticipated being more nervous, maybe even scared, but his nerves were steady and so was his voice. He looked Daemon directly into his eyes, knowing it might have been as dangerous as looking away might have been cowardly.

My Father is Lord Celtigars...third cousin, I believe. So quite distant yes. I think if my features didn't strongly favor my Valyrian lineage they might not have even let me keep my name. My Father is a deplorable alcoholic you see. Made me raise myself basically. I had to nearly die a few times in order to teach myself how to fight, and nearly died some more while learning how to sail. If I could have nearly died learning to read, maybe I would have learned how.

He let out a little chuckle at the end. Surprised by the chuckle himself, his eyes widened and for the first time he stuttered slightly,

I-I came because whispers are reaching even us small folk about the death of the King. We know Rhaenyra Targaryen to be the rightful Queen and I wished to pledge myself to her cause. I could be useful in a great deal of ways.

"You amuse me, boy."

Daemon kept his gaze for a while. Perhaps he was getting the young man's measure. Eventually, he gave a little sneering smirk.

"You are barely noble. But the best men I have known have been as common as the dirt beneath your feet."

This one was no spoilt brat, given to ideas above his station. He could be some use.

"You can serve me, as my sworn blade."

The Prince took a few steps closer, looming over Celtigar like an ominous shadow. Suddenly, his gaze grew very stern.

"But you must obey my every command. I may ask you to breach a gate, climb a wall... Slay a dragon. Even if I command you to enter hell itself, you shall do so. I do not tolerate cowards... or fools."

Rhaenyra summoned her council, to discuss matters of war. She waited them seated at the throne, where Dragonstone stood in the painted table. She seemed fiercefully determined, somewhat weakened by labour still, but most her strenght had returned to her bones. Her hair was carefully braided and she had lost almost a stone and a half in the last days; her face was narrower and there was a hint of her old self.

Daemon made his presence known, taking his place alongside the Queen. Over the past few weeks, he had allowed himself to grow a beard of mourning - for the child, not Viserys - which, though adding dignity, also added a few years to his face.

[Oznerol]

"Husband"

Addressed the queen. A layer of make up concealed new wrinkles and fatigue. But she seemed renewed, fiery.

"I got this, for you"

She gestured towards a small chest over the table. It was more over the painted Duskendale.

"There was none fitting, but you, only you"

[Zeus Almighty]

"You amuse me, boy."

Daemon kept his gaze for a while. Perhaps he was getting the young man's measure. Eventually, he gave a little sneering smirk.

"You are barely noble. But the best men I have known have been as common as the dirt beneath your feet."

This one was no spoilt brat, given to ideas above his station. He could be some use.

"You can serve me, as my sworn blade."

The Prince took a few steps closer, looming over Celtigar like an ominous shadow. Suddenly, his gaze grew very stern.

"But you must obey my every command. I may ask you to breach a gate, climb a wall... Slay a dragon. Even if I command you to enter hell itself, you shall do so. I do not tolerate cowards... or fools."

Arthor looked up to the sky, hearing the caw of his hunting hawk. His family had been rumored to have trained hawks and eagles for their purposes. Along with his silver hair and light blue eyes, it was another family trait he shared in. A smile crept across his face as the sun shone on it.

I have less interest in slaying a dragon, than riding one Prince Daemon. I will breach any gate, and climb any wall for you. I have climbed walls for no reason at all. King Daemon and Queen Rhaenyra's crown's are the best reasons I will do anything going forward. Coward is not something I have ever been called before. Fool....maybe once or twice. But I believe my true worth will not be recognized until I step into the Dragonmont. I hope to slay dragons while atop one, or die in the attempt.

There is no hysteria in his eyes. No sarcasm in his voice. His look was matter of fact, without pomp as if looking for a shock from Daemon. He felt the rumble of the volcano in his dreams, before awaking every morning. That rumble drove him here. It drove him to his knee, in front of Daemon, with his head bowed.

There it is I guess. You do not have to command me into hell. I offer to walk into the precipice of hell for you, for the chance to live a meaningful life by your sword arm or be swallowed by it. Long live King Daemon and Queen Rhaenyra.

[Gandalfus]

"Husband"

Addressed the queen. A layer of make up concealed new wrinkles and fatigue. But she seemed renewed, fiery.

"I got this, for you"

She gestured towards a small chest over the table. It was more over the painted Duskendale.

"There was none fitting, but you, only you"

”A gift? You honour me too much.”

The Prince crossed over to the Painted Table to look upon what she had brought, a look of faint amusement on his face as he cracked open the lock.

Arthor looked up to the sky, hearing the caw of his hunting hawk. His family had been rumored to have trained hawks and eagles for their purposes. Along with his silver hair and light blue eyes, it was another family trait he shared in. A smile crept across his face as the sun shone on it.

I have less interest in slaying a dragon, than riding one Prince Daemon. I will breach any gate, and climb any wall for you. I have climbed walls for no reason at all. King Daemon and Queen Rhaenyra's crown's are the best reasons I will do anything going forward. Coward is not something I have ever been called before. Fool....maybe once or twice. But I believe my true worth will not be recognized until I step into the Dragonmont. I hope to slay dragons while atop one, or die in the attempt.

There is no hysteria in his eyes. No sarcasm in his voice. His look was matter of fact, without pomp as if looking for a shock from Daemon. He felt the rumble of the volcano in his dreams, before awaking every morning. That rumble drove him here. It drove him to his knee, in front of Daemon, with his head bowed.

There it is I guess. You do not have to command me into hell. I offer to walk into the precipice of hell for you, for the chance to live a meaningful life by your sword arm or be swallowed by it. Long live King Daemon and Queen Rhaenyra.

“Rise, boy. You wish to risk the dragon? So be it.”

King Daemon. He liked the sound of that; Arthor was full of bravado and charm, as he was at the same age. The Prince couldn’t help but allow himself a grin.

“Which one will you choose? The Bronze Beast? Or would you dare to risk the Cannibal?”

That was where bravery turned to the point of suicide.

[Zeus Almighty]

To hear the name Cannibal sent a slight chill up Arthors back. He heard rumors of the beast, and had thought it to be a task for closer blood to Valyria than himself. Everyone had heard of the Dragon Vermithor. Also known as the Bronze beast. He knew that should he have the opportunity, the Bronze Beast or the one Fishermen called Grey Ghost would be his task. The Grey Ghost was the dragon he initially came in hopes to ride, but he was impossible to find they said. Arthor also could only dream of the chance to ride Vermithor.... The dreams...

He could say but one thing, "It would be my honor, to risk the one they call the Bronze Beast my King. His true name, Vermithor. For I believe the Cannibal to be destined for one of...purer blood than myself. I would place my life in wager that I may win as the mount of Vermithor. I will not leave that place until death takes me, or a Dragon has accepted me as his mount."

[Oznerol]

”A gift? You honour me too much.”

The Prince crossed over to the Painted Table to look upon what she had brought, a look of faint amusement on his face as he cracked open the lock.

In a bed of red velvet laid a clasp, a small golden hand.

"Your badge of office"

She said.

"I might be queen, but to be Lord Protector requires something else"

Rhaenyra pointed at the badge.

"You're now my Lord Hand and Lord Protector of the Realm"

[Pericles of Athens]

Alton Waters stalked the beaches of Dragonstone, he’d spent half the morning rehearsing it in his head, over and over. The bastard was one of Daemon’s sworn swords, but he was one of many that had gravitated toward the charismatic old pirate and the two weren’t particularly close. In truth he could count the number of real interactions he’d had with the man in a single hand. He threw a stone into the water to calm himself, *skip* *skip* *splash*, as it smacked into a swelling wave and sunk beneath the murky waters.

He sighed deeply, pushing his bone white hair out of his face. “I may be a bastard.. and I’m hardly a noble.. but, surly Daemon wouldn’t turn his nose up at me..” He spoke the words aloud, stammering as he went, to embolden his faultering confidence. “After all.. the worst that could happen would be..” He gulped, a hint of fear and resignation on his face. “Better fed dragons.” He said, voice low and uneasy, as if he’d whispered some well kept secret. He shook his head, kneeling down and cupping his hands in the cold surf of Dragonstone. Once his hands were filled he splashed the water over his face, washing away his concerns for the moment.

Shortly there after Alton made his way back up toward the keep, knees weak and arms heavy. As he entered the keep he made to visit Daemon, praying to the Seven the King wasn’t one of his infamous moods.