The Dragon's Revival: CK2 GoT House Targaryen in Robert's Rebellion (It's Over)

Chapter 21: Heartbreak

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Morra gravely underestimated me if she thought I was some soft southern Queen who hid behind her bodyguards and courtiers. I may be growing old but I remember how to fight and how to swing a sword, and I remember the value of a rapid advance and brutal strikes. Morra, apparently believing I was fodder with a ceremonial sword, was caught entirely unprepared for my charge.

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I aim a strong blow at her and she is unable to bring up an effective parry - I strike the axe away from her hands and follow up with a second attack before it has landed. This drives deep into her collarbone and she squawks in surprise and pain. I draw it out and she falls to the ground instantly, grasping futilely at the wound. I might be losing my touch but I’ll be a Lhazareen goatherd before I’m killed by some jumped-up Wildling bitch.

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Still, the effort leaves me drained. Just two strong strikes and I feel my body protesting. I could have managed more if I needed to, but I clearly don’t have the health or youth that battle demands, not anymore. I must try to be more careful in future. At any rate with Morra and her little band dead, I am free to assess the situation again. It is as it was - desperate. I order the signal given. We retreat again.

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Even as we move I realize we will again be encircled and trapped. The Wildlings and Northerners know this land better than we do. They know the winter better than we do too. My only remote hope is that Lord Lomas can keep them busy while we arrive. He won’t have to hold out long, but he is outnumbered ten to one. (As an aside note that the enemy is down to 15000 out of 71k men. Seems winter’s been even harder on them than on us. I don’t know how many more they might have out there, but if we could beat this army we might honestly have a chance.)

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Lord Lomas proved his worth. He was able to harry and distract the Northern army while we arrived, and we broke through their ranks with fewer casualties than we might have. We carry on towards Greywater Watch, which is where this thing could be decided. I have recently hired a host of mercenaries and they are finally passing The Twins themselves, so we will be able to meet there. They will have abundant time to prepare defenses in Greywater Watch. We’ll still be outnumbered when the fight comes, but a dug-in army of fresh sellswords bolstering my ragged band could, just, be enough to make the difference.

Thinking on this, I check the accounts. We have just enough. I smile, for the first time in weeks, as I hastily pen a letter to King’s Landing and have it sent by raven. Another 1500 mercenaries are to be raised along with whatever new recruits the Crownlands can provide. Further they are to find whatever ships we can scrounge up in Blackwater Bay. They are to be ferried northwards around The Vale with all haste. We lacked the ships to do it with the other mercenaries, as they were still engaged with Boremund’s forces, but now we may be able to get these men north quickly enough to make the difference.

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But for now the battle must be joined. We meet at Greywater Watch and clash - outnumbered, currently two to one, but in a decent defensive position. Before the battle is barely underway a Wildling has managed to slip through the ranks and find me. I wonder whether Jarl has offered some bounty on my head and whether I should do likewise to him. It hardly matters - Ser Dobber steps forward to defend me and the Wildling decides discretion is the better part of valor. This act of valor inspires my men notably, and they fight with renewed courage as they try to intimidate their own foes into retreating.

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There have been too many close calls though. I am growing too old for this business and I know it will be just a matter of time before one of these Wildlings has the skill or luck needed. I try to draw myself back from the lines without being obvious about it, but I know the men will realize it sooner or later. Still, my survival is important, more than obvious courage on my part.

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Failure. The new men from the Crownlands arrived during the battle, but it was not nearly enough to turn the tide. I can see little way to achieve victory now, and when it is possible I will instruct our retreat to the ships. I wonder, during yet another hasty flight from our enemies, whether there is any way to salvage this whole sorry war.

I make the decision as we have boarded the ships and are beginning to sail. We’ll not give up yet. We’re going back to the Karhold. It’ll take the Wildlings a long time to reach us, and the mercenaries will be able to gather a few new men in that time. When an enemy army is sighted we’re just going to hope back onto the ships and find another target. A Targaryen fighting like an Ironborn or Stepstone pirate. Well, fine, they can say what they like as long as they bend the knee.

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My heart is broken. My Kennett, my Lion, has died. He was wounded and sickened by this war, but never told anyone, not even me. And aged just 45 he has passed away. I am lost without him, and I do not know how I can carry on. I take the rather irregular step of replacing him as Master at Arms with the High Septon, who has surprising martial knowledge and had quietly expressed a desire for the position. I’ll have to investigate his motives at some point. For now, I’ve asked him to work on training men in King’s Landing.

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I cannot shed my thoughts of Kennett. Even this damned war is not enough to distract me. I see his absence in the command tent when we draw our plans, I hear the silence that replaces his wit when I take lunch. I feel his absence in my tent at night. His warmth was the only source of comfort on this campaign. I order wine brought regularly. It doesn’t make it easier to bear, but at least when I’m drunk my tears don’t make me feel ashamed as well.

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Another war between my vassals. Their total inability to help the Realm is… no longer a surprise. I can’t even muster any anger up. At least there is some good news though - just as that war begins, a different one ends. Barion won the war against The Vale. But perhaps now Lady Margaery can actually send some men to help us.

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I was contemplating suicide. I had thought of the means and the timing. I was wondering whether to pen a note to apologize or just to do it and be free of my burdens. But then news comes - rumors from the Free Cities brought by the sailors who bring our supplies. News that could change everything. Magister Terro of Myr has found an object of absolutely unparalleled importance and gravity. He has found a dragon’s egg. Many dismiss the news, but I know better. I have searched my entire life for it. I have spent thirty years with the ambition of finding one, but I have never come across one, just whispers of rumors that never went anywhere. But now one exists - could the Dragons be returning? Thoughts of suicide are banished from my mind. This news would not have come to me now, in my darkest hour, if it did not mean something. I am the Dragon! I will endure and I will win this war!

Kennett :( Valar morghulis.

RIP Kennett :( but also IT'S TIME

Valar Morghulis :(

I have literally had the "Obtain a dragon's egg" ambition since the day I turned 16, the first point you can assign an ambition, maintained it for over thirty years, and I didn't get so much as a sniff of one. Then out of nowhere some fat Myrish cock just bumbles his way into one. :cry:

Well, a dragon would most certainly even the odds and make that cold wasteland warm up a little.

Chapter 22: An Ending to Things

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The Karhold has held out, but it doesn’t matter much - Jarl’s armies have been split up and gone in every direction to deal with all kinds of threats he is facing, mine among them. We return to the ships and I direct them back to King’s Landing. I must give Kennett a true burial and I must amass a new force before we return Northwards. The ships make it a quick affair.

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Eight thousand men sail northwards yet again. This war is grinding us down, and it will take years to recover, but I will never submit to Jarl’s ownership of The North! We will make for White Harbor, the largest city of the Lord Paramountcy. As we are sailing, Ser Dobber dies. He was a loyal and brilliant soldier and I am dismayed that yet another of my Queensguard has passed, like so many have passed in this war. He seemed as healthy and strong as a man half his age but the pneumonia took him anyway. I will have to find yet another knight.

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As we land at Oldcastle, ready to move on White Harbor, I am brought news from King’s Landing. Winter has arrived there in force. I fear that a winter which spreads so slowly will be a long one, and I have had enough of long winters, but there is little to be done about it.

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I am fifty years old. My face is lined and worn, my hair grows thin and brittle, and I can hardly heft a sword anymore. I am old.

Jarl’s forces have managed to retake the forts I had conquered around The Neck. In exchange we take Oldcastle and Bittermouth Town. Instead of moving towards White Harbor we return to the ships yet again, and move back towards The Neck. I intend to retake these forts while Jarl’s men are away retaking my newest conquest.

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Wondering where my forces from The Vale are, I discover that that land is once again torn apart by other wars. In this case, it’s two distinct uprisings, one seeking to depose Lady Margaery in favor of Lord Elton Belmore and the other being waged against Margaery’s supposed tyranny. Clearly I can depend on not a single Lord Paramount, not even one married to my own son. Just days later I am told that my own son Aegor has been imprisoned by Elton ‘The Delicate Bell’.

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I have lost count of the wars raging between my Lords and Ladies Paramount in the five and a half years since this war began. This one concerns Barion and Renly, now known as The Simple Stag.

Defeat. Yet again. My remade armies are shattered by a Wildling force south of Moat Cailin and chased down in Greywater Watch. Bare hundreds survive. The last men straggle south to The Twins.

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I must accept that it is over. We are defeated, my armies are shattered, the holdings I had taken in The North have been reconquered, and Jarl has won. The ceasefire comes at an extortionate cost, but it must be paid. I weep quietly that night. For Kennett, for my reputation, for the dead and maimed sons. My return to King’s Landing is quiet, though whether this is because I am unpopular or simply because there is nobody left to cheer me I cannot say.

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It will take years to restore our coffers to positive figures. It will take years to restore the numbers of men, too. It will take infinitely longer to restore the name of my House. I wonder if I haven’t doomed the realm with my war. Had I won, I would have been truly remembered as The Restorer, but now… now I will live on in infamy and disgrace. I already hear whispers that Alaric surrendered the throne to me because the Gods told him I would prove House Targaryen unfit to rule once and for all.

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It is a long, long way down. Just before I hit the rocks I feel the gentle spray of the Blackwater and then - perhaps I shall see Kennett again.

Well that was depressing.

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Aelix needs to kick every Lord Paramount out of office for being such troutty troutters. :colbert:

RIP in peace, O Rhaella the Restorer. The realm is not whole, but it will be reclaimed with fire and blood. Wildling blood.

Valar Morghulis. Valar Dohaeris.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Pike

Well that was depressing.

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Hey guys, just wanted to check in with y'all and say this isn't dead, but I've been sick lately and not really up to playing and writing and stuff. Once I'm better it'll be back on course. Thanks for all the support, I couldn't do it without your comments :love:

No Big Deal. I'm half tempted to start trying to put up one of these numerous campaigns of mine up. Didn't have much success beyond the wall but Renly's descendants have done a bit of alright.

Chapter 23: An Inauspicious Ascendancy

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I am King. Mother is dead. Ser Roger Thorne came running to find me, his face anguished. We ran to the site of her body, blood pooled around it and mixing with the waves from the Blackwater. I looked up. She must have fallen hundreds of feet from the towers of the Red Keep. Fallen - or was pushed.

But no. Ser Balman and Ser Ardrian were posted to guard her. She had sent them to wait in the corridor and they assured me nobody else was on the tower parapet with her. So either she fell or she jumped. I think I know which it was, though I do not wish to put words to the thought. It matters little. My mother is dead, and I am King. King Aelix I Targaryen.

I have inherited a damned mess. My own accounts barely made a dent in the debts the realm incurred fighting Jarl, who sits secure in The North and has all manner of wealth to sustain his realm now. The rest of the kingdoms are still having their own petty squabbles, and I seem as unable to stop this as my mother was. I must take new stock of everything from this new position, beginning with the family.

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I have seven children, six by my sister-wife Visenya. Visenya, beautiful and brilliant, who detests me utterly. My brother Aegor resides in the dungeons of Lord Paramount Elton, who has usurped Lady Margaery Footly from ruling The Vale. My children are Rhaenys, Aglantine Waters, my eldest son and heir Baelor, Aerys, Maegon, Orys, and Aemond. At least the line is safe.

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The High Septon agrees to my request for a coronation. I wish it to be a grand affair, but the realm’s vaults are entirely empty and we will have to make do. I intend to have my brother attend it, so I inform Lord Paramount Elton that I expect him to be released immediately. He writes back claiming Aegor has committed crimes and will remain imprisoned.

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So I declare war.

It’s a doomed cause, but I cannot allow my brother to languish in the Sky Cells. We may not have been able to beat The North but I’ll not be defied by my own Lord Paramount!

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But then glorious news comes, news that changes everything. News that could have changed everything had it happened a few years or months ago. Princess Janyce Martell sends word that Dorne will join my cause. I assume her reasons are to ensure I favor Dorne and House Martell, and these are things I will indeed do, despite the unpleasantness with House Allyrion. A number of more modest lords, including Lord Paxter of Goldengrove and Lord Lothor of Runestone, have also pledged their forces. My wife Visenya also pledges her forces of Dragonstone to the cause, putting aside our hatred of each other to rescue our brother and hopefully our family name.

Lord Elton is not popular for his usurpation and that The Vale’s soldiers are drained by many wars. If the case were to remain this way we would have a good chance of winning, but I saw enough of the burdens my mother endured - something will soon go horrendously wrong. The Kraken will emerge and swallow Westeros, no doubt, or the Dothraki will find warhorses who can fly and decide King’s Landing would make a good target.

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As our armies gather and we prepare to march, the High Septon crowns me in a modest and quiet coronation ceremony. I am well aware that House Targaryen is in a precarious position at the moment. We retook the Iron Throne only to lose The North, and now I am defied by a usurper Lord Paramount. I do not wish to take men to war, especially as we have so damn few healthy men left, but I have little choice. Modest as it is the coronation is a success, and I am cheered by the smallfolk.

We are almost ready, but it seems my efforts are not favored, as Grand Maester Qarlton dies just days before we are due to march for The Vale. He was a great age, 74, but still this timing is desperate. I inform The Citadel that we shall have need of a replacement.

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With that business done we set off for Crab’s Shore. There are about five thousand men here, mostly mine and Visenya’s, but The Vale is involved in a bloody war of its own and several lesser lords there have declared for my side. They are reluctant to allow the precedent that Elton Belmore could usurp the Lord Paramountcy simply by force of arms - a reluctance I altogether share. As things currently stand we have the advantage, but I recall my mother’s curses about all the ills that befall her campaigns.

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And here is more good news - the new Grand Maester, Tormund Peake, is a supremely learned man. He is also known for applying that learning to some rather unsavory ends, but frankly as long as he serves me and keeps his predilections private I will overlook that.

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Ah, here we are - the disaster that is to befall me. Jarl has declared an invasion of The Riverlands and is moving his men towards The Twins. Lord Ermen Frey has thrown his lot in with Jarl and this leaves The Riverlands totally open. I must put our internal issues to bed quickly if we are to stand a chance against him. If he takes the Riverlands he could become truly unstoppable.

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Lord Paramount Harmund of the Iron Islands has died of natural causes, and is succeeded by his son Gylbert ‘The Laughing Kraken’. Gylbert is hardworking but otherwise lacking in merit, but I still send the letters of condolences and congratulations.

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Well, the war is unceremoniously ended when Aegor is freed. Lady Margaery was executed by Elton but Aegor has been set free, so there is now little point in continuing. I can only presume he feared Targaryen wrath if my brother was killed. I am just pleased to have him back, and pleased that we can use this to convince people we are not to be trifled with. I assure Aegor that in time he will have his revenge for the killing of his wife and usurpation of Targaryen rule of The Vale.

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More good news comes; winter is coming to an end. It may still take some time to depart us but it is a tremendous relief to think of summer again. I allow myself a few blissful hours of appreciating the situation before I turn my mind back to the threat we face: Jarl the Handsome. I send a brief letter to Barion Tully informing him that, per the duties of a King, I shall take up arms in his defense. Perhaps combined we might drive back the Wildling menace.

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This hope is aided by knowledge that several Northern lords have declared their independence, and their refusal to serve Jarl reduces his numbers. Whether he will retaliate against them I do not yet know but for the time being I am contented by the knowledge that The Neck, Flint’s Finger, Torrhen’s Square, and The Rills are not fighting against me.

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:save:There's a new GoTmod update out so I will be updating to it. Be forewarned that this may break things in spectacular or subtle fashion, but it has some critical bugfixes so the chance must be taken. :save:

What a state. I love how matter of factly Aelix declares war though. Were his armies of a notable size, I would peg him to be the one to bring Westeros to heel. But it will be tough recouping what was lost through bad luck and traitorous Lords Paramount.